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Comic, Vol. 8

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Comic, Vol. 8
By Ha SiHyun
Published by Yen Press


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Picking up immediately where volume seven left off, Patrick and Alice impulsively seek each other out in a last-ditch effort to rescue their relationship. Unfortunately for Patrick, it is in this crucial moment that he discovers just how much his single lie has cost him. Despite her desperate desire for Patrick, when Alice finds herself stranded in the rain with only enough change for one phone call, it is Neil she banks on as the reliable choice. Truthfully, she’s not wrong. Neil turns out to be the ideal boyfriend—attentive, affectionate, playful, kind—all the things Patrick never was, even at his best.

As Alice’s new relationship goes public, Daria seizes the the chance to reprise her play for Patrick, this time yielding more satisfying results. The most significant development in this installment, however, is that after four frustrating volumes, both Alice and Patrick remember that they are manhwa-ga.

Does that last line sound sarcastic? It might be just a little. For the most part though, it’s just plain gratifying to see even the slightest hint of the story’s original premise creeping its way back to the page. And though the manhwa-ga plotline is hardly front-and-center, it is actually responsible for a few of the volume’s most amusing bits. It is fairly hilarious to watch, for instance, as Neil, filling in as an assistant on Patrick’s manhwa, cluelessly asks his best friend for advice on kissing his new girlfriend—a request Patrick ultimately fulfills by handing him an armful of sunjeong and shojo comics.

What works less well in this volume are some of the standard romance scenarios, like a tedious chapter near the end of the volume in which Neil’s plans for an intimate evening with Alice are relentlessly interrupted by his meddling sister. Yet, while scenes like this play out too obviously to be believed, others sparkle with joyful sunjeong goodness, though they tend to weigh heavily against the main romantic pairing.

“I feel full even when I don’t eat. I have fun even when we don’t do anything,” Alice muses to herself in the midst of a giddy afternoon date with Neil. “The guy I used to like never made me feel this good. Ever.” Reading something like that, it’s hard to feel enthusiastic about the prospect of a break-up, fated romance be damned!

Regardless of this volume’s minor shortcomings, it’s really nice to see this series finally back on track as something just a little more interesting than a standard high-school romance. Let’s hope volume nine continues the trend!

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Immortal Rain 1-2 by Kaori Ozaki: A-

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immortalrain1Machika Balfaltin’s grandfather, Zol, was a renowned bounty hunter/assassin, but there was one man he could never catch: Methuselah, an immortal with a price on his head. Machika, like your typical fourteen-year-old, is convinced that she can do anything and is determined to settle her grandfather’s unfinished business. Her attempt to capture Methuselah goes wrong, however, when a rival group of bounty hunters swoops in to take the credit. Methuselah allows himself to be hauled off to jail, whereupon Machika breaks him out because he’s her prey. Of course, now there’s a price on her head, too, so she’s got to leave town. From there, Machika and Methuselah, who reveals that his name is actually Rain Jewlitt, get into a series of adventures usually involving people trying to nab Rain and figure out the secret of immortality, which is portrayed as much more of a curse than a blessing.

While the adventures are interesting enough, it’s the bond between the two characters that’s really the most fascinating aspect of Immortal Rain. Machika still maintains that she’s going to kill Rain one day, but quickly grows frustrated with his passivity regarding his fate and soon nurtures a desire to help him, including finding a way to make him human again. Initially, Rain attempts to keep his distance. He likes people but, as he puts it, “eventually everyone must leave this earth at a speed I can’t keep up with.” When he tries to refuse Machika’s help, it hurts her, but he’s reluctant to keep her with him because her life is so vulnerable. “So… would you hold me like I’m glass? I won’t break,” she replies. It’s clear that he’s unaccustomed to someone showing such fierce concern for his present rather than the promise of an unlimited future that he represents, and by the end of volume two he seems to have finally accepted her as a companion.

immortalrain2In addition to creating this pair of likable characters, Ozaki also parcels out bits of Rain’s backstory with a sure hand. Obscure hints and scraps of information offered in volume one are already taking shape into something that makes more sense by volume two, suggesting that answers will continue to be furnished at a satisfying rate. It would seem that he was somehow involved in some scientific experiments 600 years ago—the remnants of which are being excavated by a company that employs Sharem, an intriguing villainess who is initially introduced as a high-kicking ice queen but is gradually revealed to have inner pain of her own—and is destined to meet someone from that time who’s on the verge of being reincarnated. Too, he was once in love with a dark-haired woman whose violin is his most treasured possession.

Missteps are few, but there are a couple of bothersome things in these first two volumes. First, while a lot of the humor is genuinely amusing (I especially adore anything having to do with Machika’s pet, Kiki), some of it falls flat, especially the inept Evans siblings who attempt to capture Rain with a thoroughly ill-conceived plan involving a train, a bridge, and a 12-year-old girl piloting a mecha. Also, while less of a problem in volume two, volume one contains some passages of narration that don’t make much sense. Here’s an example:

Look. Even if you open your ears you can’t hear… the sound of the heart… if only just once.

That sounds like the kind of poorly translated English you’d find on a t-shirt in Shinjuku!

Another great point in Immortal Rain’s favor is Ozaki’s incredibly appealing art. Although the series runs in the shoujo magazine Wings and Rain technically qualifies as a bishounen, the art fosters more of a shounen adventure feeling, creating an almost palpable sense of the wide world around the central characters. The nonverbal storytelling is also great, especially in Rain’s expressive reactions to some of the things Machika says and does. Somehow, his eyes manage to convey fondness, loneliness, regret, and puzzlement simultaneously; the effect is quite lovely.

I look forward to seeing how the story develops in subsequent volumes, although I do wonder whether TOKYOPOP intends to continue releasing the series. They’ve released eight volumes in English so far, and while new volumes in Japan appear at a rate of one per year there are still ten of them out now with no US solicitation of volume nine on the horizon. It may not be time to fret quite yet, but there’s definitely reason for concern.

A little Twilight, more xxxHolic

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This is just barely link-blogging, since I believe I have only two links. Still, it saves me from being disagreeable all over the internet, something I try to avoid.

First, EW has an exclusive look at the cover for Yen Press’ upcoming Twilight graphic novel, as well as a single sample page. The word floating around Twitter was “hideous” but I admit I think it’s kind of pretty. Not the cover so much (lifeless but inoffensive) as the interior artwork. I haven’t been looking forward to reading Twilight, despite my highly positive take on its announcement, but I gotta admit my inner teen is a tiny bit smitten with that sparkling vampire’s sensitive eyes. Oh, inner teen, must you humiliate me in this way? Must you??

Meanwhile, The Hooded Utilitarian continues their xxxHolic Roundtable with most participants not finding much besides the artwork to enjoy….

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Happy Cafe, Vol. 1

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Two Guys, a Girl, and a Pastry Shop might be a better title for this rom-com about a teen who waits tables at the neighborhood bakery, as the characters are so nondescript I had trouble remembering their names. The girl, Uru, is as generic as shojo heroines come: she’s a spunky, klutzy high school student who blushes and stammers around hot guys, bemoans her flat chest, and wins people over with her intense sincerity. The two guys — Shindo, a moody jerk whose boorishness masks a kind nature, and Ichiro, a cheerful slacker — are just as forgettable, despite the manga-ka’s efforts to assign them novel tics and traits. Shindo, for example, turns out to be a genius who finished high school at fifteen, while Ichiro suffers from hunger-induced narcolepsy, keeling over any time his blood sugar drops.

The plot, like the characters, has a similarly generic quality. At the beginning of volume one, Uru walks past Cafe Bonheur, overhearing a conversation between two giggling, satisfied customers. She then resolves to land a gig at the “Happy Cafe,” as she calls it, but is nearly defeated by the job interview: she accidentally breaks the front door, endures rude comments from Shindo about her youthful appearance (she looks ten), and nearly falls over Ichiro, who’s sprawled, unconscious, on the kitchen floor. (Shindo administers first aid in the form of a bun, reviving his co-worker.) Undeterred, Uru pleads with Shindo for a job, eventually persuading him to hire her on a trial basis. Broken dishes and spilled coffee notwithstanding, Uru quickly insinuates herself into Shindo and Ichiro’s lives.

Happy Cafe aims for a mixture of wacky comedy and heartfelt drama, but doesn’t quite succeed on either count. The humor is mild but not very funny; the few good gags — Uru’s super-strength, Ichiro’s ability to nap anywhere, anytime — are repeated with little variation until they cease to register as jokes. The drama, too, is tepid and predictable; every conflict is resolved so neatly and sweetly that a strong whiff of pointlessness hangs over the whole enterprise. Early in the volume, for example, we learn that Uru is living on her own, thanks to her mother’s decision to marry a younger man. Uru misses her mom terribly, but worries that her presence interferes with mom’s new relationship. So far, so good: the idea of a mother allowing her sixteen-year-old to live alone is a little ridiculous, but the set-up could yield some juicy, emotional scenes. Matsuzuki squanders that potential by resolving the conflict in a matter of three pages: mom and stepdad beg Uru to return, Uru asserts her desire to visit but maintain her independence, and her parents shower her with affection. The end.

Matsuzuki’s artwork is serviceable, if not memorable. Her characters are virtually indistinguishable from the cast of Me & My Brothers, right down to their perfectly messy hair, rail-thin frames, and noseless faces. Matsuzuki struggles with more ambitious perspective drawings; some of her attempts to place characters on different levels in the picture plane result in unnaturally foreshortened bodies. Where Matsuzuki’s art shines is in her characters’ nuanced facial expressions. Uru’s round, open visage registers a convincing range of emotions, from embarrassment to loneliness to indignation. On those occasions when Uru smiles — sweetly or with mischievous intent — it’s easy to grasp why the terminally grouchy Shindo keeps her around, as the character radiates joy.

If I were to compare Happy Cafe with baked goods, I’d say it reminds me of a Duncan Hines cake mix: it’s easy to follow, yields predictable results, and, while sweet, is curiously bland. Readers in search of manga comfort food could certainly do worse than this sugary dramedy, though I’d steer more adventurous souls towards The Antique Bakery or Cafe Kichijoji de, both of which are funnier, tastier, and sexier than this by-the-book shojo title.

HAPPY CAFE, VOL. 1 • BY KOU MATSUZUKI • TOKYOPOP • 192 pp. • RATING: TEEN

Happy Cafe, Vol. 1

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HappyCafe01_cvr.inddTwo Guys, a Girl, and a Pastry Shop might be a better title for this rom-com about a teen who waits tables at the neighborhood bakery, as the characters are so nondescript I had trouble remembering their names. The girl, Uru, is as generic as shojo heroines come: she’s a spunky, klutzy high school student who blushes and stammers around hot guys, bemoans her flat chest, and wins people over with her intense sincerity. The two guys — Shindo, a moody jerk whose boorishness masks a kind nature, and Ichiro, a cheerful slacker — are just as forgettable, despite the manga-ka’s efforts to assign them novel tics and traits. Shindo, for example, turns out to be a genius who finished high school at fifteen, while Ichiro suffers from hunger-induced narcolepsy, keeling over any time his blood sugar drops.

The plot, like the characters, has a similarly generic quality. At the beginning of volume one, Uru walks past Cafe Bonheur, overhearing a conversation between two giggling, satisfied customers. She then resolves to land a gig at the “Happy Cafe,” as she calls it, but is nearly defeated by the job interview: she accidentally breaks the front door, endures rude comments from Shindo about her youthful appearance (she looks ten), and nearly falls over Ichiro, who’s sprawled, unconscious, on the kitchen floor. (Shindo administers first aid in the form of a bun, reviving his co-worker.) Undeterred, Uru pleads with Shindo for a job, eventually persuading him to hire her on a trial basis. Broken dishes and spilled coffee notwithstanding, Uru quickly insinuates herself into Shindo and Ichiro’s lives.

…

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Charlie and the Chocolate Factory by Roald Dahl: A-

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charliechocolateFrom the back cover:
Willy Wonka’s famous chocolate factory is opening at last! But only five lucky children will be allowed inside. And the winners are: Augustus Gloop, an enormously fat boy whose hobby is eating; Veruca Salt, a spoiled-rotten brat whose parents are wrapped around her little finger; Violet Beauregarde, a dim-witted gum-chewer with the fastest jaws around; Mike Teavee, a toy pistol-toting gangster-in-training who is obsessed with television; and Charlie Bucket, Our Hero, a boy who is honest and kind, brave and true, and good and ready for the wildest time of his life!

Review:
I’m not sure why we spent what seemed to be the entire last week of fourth grade sprawled on the carpet of the media center wearing out one of those new-fangled videotapes of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory by watching it over and over again, but sprawl and watch we did. I don’t remember anyone complaining when, after the movie ended, it was immediately begun again, but perhaps my recollection is clouded by how much I loved (and still do) the film. Until now, however, I had never actually read the original book though I’ve owned it for several years.

As most people probably know, this is the story of humble and poor Charlie Bucket who loves chocolate very much but must be content with nightly meals of watery cabbage soup. As luck would have it, a huge and world-famous chocolate factory is on his way to school and every day he pauses to sniff the air near Wonka’s Factory, though his family is so poor they can only afford to give him one bar of chocolate each year on his birthday.

When Wonka announces his Golden Ticket contest—in which five Golden Tickets are hidden in Wonka chocolates, each entitling one child to a tour of the facilities and a life-time supply of candy—Charlie tries not to get his hopes up, but is nonetheless disappointed when his birthday bar fails to contain the golden prize. A second bar paid for from his Grandpa Joe’s secret fund yields the same results, and Charlie has almost given up hope when a lucky dollar found on the sidewalk buys him a bar containing the fifth and final Golden Ticket. The next day, Charlie and Grandpa Joe join four other children and their parents in a tour of the fantastic factory. Each of the other children has a flaw—eating too much, being spoiled, chewing gum constantly, and watching too much television—and is disqualified along the way by some means connected to it. In the end, only Charlie remains and it’s a happy ending for the well-deserving child.

Although the basic flow of the plot is the same and indeed, some lines of dialogue are used verbatim in the film (“Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!”) there are some differences. No one in the book sings except for the Oompa Loompas (who are not orange and are sometimes female), and their songs are not nearly as catchy in print form. Charlie and Grandpa Joe do not commit the grievous sin of sampling fizzy lifting drinks, although the beverages and the method to combat their lifting powers are discussed, and Veruca’s exit is facilitated by nut-evaluating squirrels rather than an egg meter. I seem to recall that Tim Burton’s film version (which is pretty awful) keeps the squirrels, so perhaps special effects in 1971 were simply not up to the task of bringing them to life on the screen. Most importantly, there’s neither Mr. Slugworth nor any testing of Charlie to see whether he will protect Wonka’s secrets. When I was a kid I didn’t like that part because Wonka was mean to Charlie, but now that it’s gone, I find I miss it. In the book, Charlie is an observer who wins mostly by process of elimination, but in the film he’s required to prove his goodness and is a more interesting character.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is thoroughly charming and is undoubtedly a classic of children’s fiction. The fact remains, however, that I still like the movie more. Gene Wilder brings so much to the role of Willy Wonka, retaining his eccentricities but also endowing him with both warmth and menace, that even the original pales by comparison. Add to this the film’s more fleshed-out portrayal of Charlie and my choice is clear.

Avatar by John Passarella: C+

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avatarFrom the back cover:
When Angel arrived in Los Angeles, he assumed he’d find enough evil to keep himself busy for, well… eternity. Up until now, he’s had his hands full in real time. So when Cordelia suggests starting up a web site for their detective agency, he’s hesitant. As Doyle puts it, “People in trouble want to interface with a face.”

Soon, though, the police discover a trail of desiccated corpses stretching across the city. The only thing that binds these victims (other than their cause of death) is their pastime pursuit: online chatting. One by one, they are being hunted by a techno-savvy demon. And when this monster has claimed his final victim, he will have completed a ritual that extends the arm of his evil far beyond the reaches of even the Internet…

Review:
Much like Ghoul Trouble, a Buffy the Vampire Slayer book by the same author, Avatar features a pretty lame plot brightened by some entertaining moments between the characters and a good feel for each character’s voice. It occurs early in season one, seemingly before episode eight, “I Will Remember You,” because Angel doesn’t seem to have seen Buffy since he left Sunnydale.

Frankly, the less said about the plot of Avatar the better. It makes sense, I suppose, but there’s nothing great about it. I did find one thing interesting, though. Often, media tie-in books are prohibited from having anything genuinely important happen to the characters. In Avatar, that still holds true but some events are inflated to seem like they are very important. For example, after Angel saves a bunch of teenagers being held prisoner by some sewer-dwelling demon bugs—slipping into vampface in the process—one of the teens says something like, “What are you?” Angel slinks away and the text reads, “Never before had his human face felt so much like a mask.” Really? A fleeting encounter with a teen in a sewer eclipses all of the other times Angel’s had angst about the duality of his existence?

The best part about Avatar is the depiction of the main characters, especially some nice conversations between Doyle and Cordelia and Angel’s observations about Doyle’s chances for a romantic relationship with her. Many fans agree that the worst episode of Angel‘s first season is “She,” featuring Bai Ling as a violet-eyed, leather-clad leader in a flimsy story meant to serve as a metaphor for female circumcision. Angel’s supposedly attracted to her, but no one can figure out why because she’s so boring. Avatar is certainly not as good as the best episodes of season one, but it is definitely better than “She.”

Except for the part where Angel dances. That part is awesome.

Crown of Love, Vol. 1

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Crown of Love, Vol. 1
By Yun Kouga
Published by Viz Media


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“I’d sell my soul to the devil … if it would make her notice me.”

Hisayoshi Tajima is an aloof high school student—a stereotypical “prince” type, fawned over and admired by all the girls in his class. Though none of his classmates has ever caught his interest, a chance encounter on the train throws him into sudden infatuation with a young female idol, Rima Fujio. Over the next month, his fixation with Rima becomes so strong that everything else (including schoolwork) begins to slip as he spends most of his time attending Rima’s video tapings and keeping up with news from her fan club. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for Hisayoshi, he catches the eye of Rima’s former manager, Ikeshiba, who lures him into a career as an idol with the promise of getting him close to Rima.

Crown of Love is the retelling of an older series by mangaka Yun Kouga, originally serialized in 1988. That series was only two volumes long, with an ending described by the artist as “abrupt.” With that in mind, it’s not surprising that this volume offers an uneven mix of clunky exposition and insightful characterization.

The volume’s narration switches point-of-view constantly, revealing far too many of the characters’ inner thoughts, most of which could be more effectively implied through the story’s dialogue and art. The story’s chronology is all over the place too, jumping back and forth from Hisayoshi’s encounters with Rima, his disapproving father, and Ikeshiba, creating a great deal of confusion over what happens when.

All this aside, where Kouga succeeds, and stunningly so, is in her characterization. There are no shojo stereotypes here, despite appearances.

As he watches his desperate, submissive mother cowering under the rule of his controlling father, Hisayoshi is horrified to recognize himself in both of them. He is sickened by the intensity of feeling he has for Rima, a girl he barely knows, but can’t stop himself from prostrating himself before her, like his mother before her husband. Similarly, he recognizes his father’s stubborn arrogance in his own face and voice and hates himself for that. Hisayoshi is fully aware of what he means to Ikeshiba—fortune, notoriety, and possibly (though only lightly implied) sexual satisfaction—and though it angers him, he is willing to be led along in order to achieve his own goals. For all his righteous anger, he’s ready to play the game, too. “You’re so convenient, like a taxi,” he says to Ikeshiba after calling him in the middle of the night for a ride and a place to stay.

The idol, Rima, is in love with her married former manager (Ikeshiba) and resentful of Hisayoshi, whom she sees as a rival—more for Ikeshiba’s attention than the public’s, though she uses the latter as her rationale. She is insecure about her position in the business and endlessly embarrassed by her mother’s indiscretions. Rather than the typical bird in a gilded cage, she is portrayed as a scared young woman who gratefully accepted her career in order to escape her family and her own limitations. “Well, I can’t get a real job! There’s nothing else I’m good at!” she barks at Hisayoshi, angered by his nonchalance over his own career. More than anything, though, she wants to be taken care of by someone more capable than her mother.

Ikeshiba, however, is the series’ true piece of work. Manipulative and emotionally unavailable, he has few scruples about anything if it will get what he wants. When Rima’s attachment to him becomes too desperate to be convenient, he simply turns her over to another manager. Still, he’ll use that attachment to help reel in Hisayoshi without even a trace of guilt. His full interest in Hisayoshi is unclear, though he carelessly engages in a sort of artful flirting when Hisayoshi calls him for help. His full interest in anything is really anyone’s guess, though he goes about it all with a smile on his face. “I’d sell my soul to the devil … if it would make her notice me,” Hisayoshi muses early on. It seems somewhat possible that he has.

The fact that the characters seem to know just how screwed up they are is what rescues them from being too disturbing to bear, though even then it’s hard to read some of Hisayoshi’s internal monologue without feeling a bit of a chill. “I keep thinking of all these different things I want to do with you. Like this… and that…” he says to himself near the end of the book, dreaming of Rima. “But that’s okay, right? As long as I’m just thinking about it, it’s not wrong. I haven’t done anything yet.” It’s difficult at this point to tell just how seriously Kouga takes the broken universe she’s created in Crown of Love, something that will ultimately decide whether the series is deep and insightful or just plain creepy.

As always, Kouga’s art is a highlight of her work. There’s something essentially cheerful and straightforward about her layout and designs that gives a story like this an even darker tone than it might have with a more overtly sinister look. Also, though the story is far from light-hearted, there is a clarity to Kouga’s visual storytelling that keeps it from becoming mired in its own weight.

Though this series’ first volume has its share of stumbles, it is also genuinely intriguing, more than many shojo titles can claim this early on. Crown of Love is definitely worth a try.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Monday Morning Links. Again.

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I’ve come to the conclusion that Monday is link-blogging day, so I’m just going to go with it. I’ll begin with a couple of links to my own offsite reviews. First, last Monday, I reviewed volume 22 of Fullmetal Alchemist for PCS’ Manga Minis. By now I’m sure everyone knows what a huge fan I am of the series, but I find myself needing to talk about it again and again in an attempt to sway the unconvinced. At 22 volumes, this series has still not lost even a crumb of its original appeal. Wonderfully drawn and well-plotted–if you haven’t yet given this shonen epic a try, this is the time to start.

Secondly, I have a review in today’s installment of PCS’ On The Shojo Beat, for volume nine of Yuu Watase’s Fushigi Yûgi: Genbu Kaiden. Better than a prequel has any right to be, this series is much more than a rehash of Watase’s original shojo classic, …

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On Criticism: Why Editing Matters

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Have you ever read a review that was so riddled with misspelled words, grammatical errors, or nonsensical phrases that you began to keep a mental tally of the gaffes instead of following the author’s argument? I have. And while it would be easy to make light of such reviews, I feel compassion for the writer. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes online, from misspelling an author’s name to penning a sentence so tortured that, in hindsight, I wasn’t even certain what I meant. The majority of these mistakes can be chalked up to one thing: failing to edit my work carefully. Deadlines, job pressures, and personal commitments can make it easy to neglect editing, but failing to do so can compromise your authority as a writer and a critic, and anger creators who want to see their work treated respectfully; it isn’t pretty to be called on the carpet for writing a negative review that’s as problematic as the book under consideration. (Believe me, I’ve seen it happen. In a word: aaawwwwwwwkward.)

Below, I’ve outlined the steps involved in editing a review. These suggestions reflect the many years I’ve spent honing my own writing as a student, a teacher, an editor, a writer, and a Gal Friday with proofreading chops. This outline is not intended to be a one-size-fits-all proscription for catching mistakes, but a tool to help writers develop their own process for assessing and improving their work. Have an online resource that you think would be helpful for writers? Let me know in the comments and I’ll update the post to include your suggestion.

How Do I Edit My Stuff?

Most writers equate editing with checking their work for cosmetic problems—typos, extra carriage returns, and so forth. And while it’s true that proofreading is an important step in the editorial process, it’s generally the final one. The first—and most difficult—stages require you to scrutinize your prose for clarity, consistency, and economy (namely, can you say something in 10 words instead of 15 or 20?). Here’s a rough outline of the steps entailed in editing an essay or story:

Step One: Set the draft aside for one or two days.

There may be times when this simply isn’t possible, but allowing yourself time between drafting and editing will improve your chances of spotting problems.

Step Two: Read the review out loud, asking yourself the following questions:

Do the sentences flow smoothly? Circle or highlight any sentence that sounds choppy or awkward—the grammar may need correction, the word order may need adjustment, or the sentence may need to be shortened.

Do you use the same words or phrases too often? Circle or highlight those passages, then grab a thesaurus and search for alternatives.

Do you needlessly repeat information or opinions? There’s a fine line between elaborating a point and belaboring it; if you’ve described a book as “exciting,” “pulse-pounding,” and “thrilling” all in the span of a single sentence, you’ve said the same thing three times.

Step Three: Make your first round of corrections, then re-read with an eye towards structural issues. Ask yourself the following questions:

Does my review flow seamlessly from point to point? Look for awkward phrases, abrupt transitions, and weak topic sentences.

Have I achieved an appropriate balance between summary and critique? Generally speaking, reviews should be no more than 50% summary. If in doubt, trim any information that may be viewed as a spoiler, or is not addressed in your subsequent critique of the manga.

Have I substantiated my critique with evidence from the volume(s) I’m reviewing? If you describe a book as “dull” or “irritating,” be sure to explain why you feel that way: is it the dialogue? A particular character? The obvious plot twists?

Does the overall tone of my review match my opinion of the book? If you enjoyed a book, that should be evident from your word choice; the same is true for books that you didn’t like. If you’re ambivalent about a title, it’s OK to say so in the opening or closing of your review.

The Discard File

One of the main reasons we have difficulty editing is that we become attached to a favorite sentence or paragraph. Having crafted something that we like, we’re reluctant to delete it no matter how clumsy or inappropriate it may be in context. I have a remedy for deletion anxiety: cut and paste the offending passage into a separate file. That way, you can retrieve a sentence that, on second judgment, seems useful to your argument. Or you can do the eco-friendly thing and recycle a great turn of phrase in a future article. My own discard file has been a terrific resource for overcoming writer’s block, improving a weak review, and preserving kick-ass sentences that amused me but might never see the light of day.

Proofreading Tips

Allow at least a few hours (if not longer) before you begin proofreading, or you’re bound to miss mistakes. I find it helpful to read the document backwards—the strangeness of the experience forces me to look at the prose more carefully, though the technique might not work for everyone.

I have a simple checklist of things to look for when I proofread:

  • Extra spaces or carriage returns
  • Spelling errors, typos (e.g. extra or missing letters)
  • Subject-verb agreement (e.g. “They is” instead of “They are”), switching tense
  • Its vs. it’s, which vs. that
  • Punctuation and capitalization errors
  • Missing words (e.g. forgetting an article, “In this volume, the family gets dog.”)

Two other things on my radar screen are parallelism problems and passive constructions. Most writers don’t realize that when they make a list of items, all of the items of the list need to be structured/phrased in the same manner, e.g. “Among the things she owned were a broken TV, a rotary phone, and a cracked mirror.” Note that all of the items in this list are expressed as article-adjective-noun. The same rule applies to sentences using participles and verbs, e.g. “He enjoys many activities, from playing golf and swimming to gardening and walking the dog.”

One of my other pet peeves as a writer is the kind of vagueness that goes hand-in-hand with passive constructions. Phrases such as “Urasawa is widely acknowledged as a genius” do more harm than good, as they leave your reader to wonder, Who says Urasawa is a genius? His critics? His mother? A better strategy is to rephrase these sentences in the active voice: “Urasawa’s fellow manga artists revere him as a genius.” There are, of course, plenty of times when the passive voice is a perfectly acceptable choice, especially in academic writing, but if it’s possible to identify an agent, do so. Your writing will sound more authoritative.

The final thing to keep in mind when proofreading: be consistent. If you give the name of one city as “Austin, TX,” all the cities in your essay should be formatted that way (as opposed to “Boston, Mass.” or “Yonkers, New York”). If you decide to hyphenate Asian-American, then all occurrences of that word should be hyphenated. And so forth. There are several excellent style manuals on the market (such as The Chicago Manual of Style and The MLA Handbook) that provide the nitty-gritty on hyphenation, capitalization, italicization, etc. Don’t want to shell out the clams for a bound copy? Many universities have posted Cliff Notes versions of these venerable style guides; one that I find useful in a pinch is The OWL (Online Writing Lab) at Purdue.

When Deadlines Loom…

Pressed for time? At a minimum, run the SpellCheck function on your computer, but monitor it carefully—the SpellChecker can add mistakes to your work, especially if you use funky foreign words like fujoshi or gensaku-sha. If these are words you anticipate using in future documents, add them to your SpellChecker’s memory to avoid comically awful substitutions. I’m less enthusiastic about Microsoft Word’s GrammarCheck function. While it seldom misses glaring errors (e.g. “You is my woman”), it may gloss over deeper structural problems or flag a sentence that is, in fact, grammatically acceptable. Use sparingly.

Putting Advice Into Practice

Suppose you’re writing a review of a new series, Dogball D. You’re both bored by and frustrated with the first volume, as the characters’ mannerisms and physical appearance remind you of characters from Dragonball Z. At the same time, however, you recognize that the similarity is intentional. The challenge: how to express that idea effectively.

Version 1: The main problem with Dogball D is that the characters are boring and unoriginal and just like the characters in Dragonball Z. That’s understandable, since Yuki Yamamoto wrote her story for a magazine that was competing directly with the magazine in which Dragonball Z was a big hit for many years before Dogball D came out.

Version 2: Dogball D‘s biggest problem is the characters: they’re pale imitations of the Dragonball Z gang. The similarity is understandable, since Yuki Yamamoto’s story runs in Young Mister, a direct competitor of the magazine in which Dragonball Z was serialized.

In the second version, I’ve compressed the idea of “boring” “unoriginal” characters into a single, more forcefully stated comparison between Dogball D and Dragonball Z. I’ve eliminated several prepositional phrases (e.g. “for a magazine”) and conjunctions, and dropped the phrase “before Dogball D came out,” as the contrast in tenses (“runs” versus “was serialized”) implies that Dragonball Z preceded Dogball D — an impression confirmed by the initial statement that the Dogball D cast is a “pale imitation” of Dragonball Z‘s famous characters. You can only imitate existing models!

Here’s another before-and-after comparison, this one culled from my own writing. The first paragraph comes from my review of Chica Umino’s Honey and Clover; the second comes from the revised version now currently visible on the front page. Changes are highlighted in red:

Original: If you’ve spent any time around an art school or conservatory, you’ve met students like the Honey and Clover gang, a chatty bunch who are eager to share and compare influences, discuss their romantic lives in intimate detail, and wax poetic about their latest enthusiasms. In Honey and Clover, that garrulity reflects the characters’ deep-rooted need for community, both a boundary-drawing exercise — this is what I stand for — and an invitation to join the group. As characters grow closer to each other, however, they often find conversation inadequate to the task of bridging the remaining distance between them, a motif that Chica Umino uses throughout volume eight.

Revised: If you’ve spent any time around an art school or conservatory, you’ve met students like the Honey and Clover gang, a chatty bunch who are eager to share and compare influences, discuss their romantic lives in intimate detail, and wax poetic about their latest enthusiasms. In Honey and Clover, that chattiness reflects the characters’ deep-rooted need to define who they are and how they fit in with their peers. As characters discover common ground, however, they often find conversation inadequate to the task of bridging the remaining distance between them, a motif that Chica Umino uses throughout volume eight.

I decided to revise the paragraph because I found it wordy and, frankly, a little pretentious: “garrulity”? “Boundary-drawing exercise”? The emptiness of those words became even more apparent when contrasted with the review that immediately followed it, as my take on Mixed Vegetables was snappier and easier to follow. So I rolled up my sleeves and made several small but crucial changes by finding five-dollar substitutes for the fifteen-dollar words and eliminating the parenthetical remark from the second sentence. The result: a clearer statement of the same idea.

Conclusion

I’ve learned as much from my errors as I have from my successes, as they remind me just how difficult writing really is. The more I practice drafting and editing my own work, however, the better the final product tends to be. Confronting my own shortcomings keeps me humble, but it also keeps me invested in improving, too — each review presents an opportunity to refine my skills a little more, and a chance to reflect on what constitutes good writing.