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Natsume’s Book of Friends, Vol. 2

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By Yuki Midorikawa
Viz, 208 pp.
Rating: Teen

In this volume, Natsume is coerced into attending a school-sponsored “haunted challenge,” only to discover that one of his classmates (who suspects his abilities) wants his help to communicate with a yokai . Next, he falls prey to a curse that he can’t break without supernatural assistance. Later, he meets another human with his abilities and also becomes possessed by a yokai with a final, desperate wish.

Though this volume focuses less on Natsume’s quest to return all the names in the “Book of Friends,” that’s actually not a bad thing at all. Each of the chapters in this installment of the series is more touching than the last, which is saying a lot considering that the first chapter begins with Natsume pouring water on a dehydrated yokai collapsed in the middle of the road.

Unlike his grandmother, Reiko, Natsume is slowly developing bonds with his fellow humans, but he’s also forging relationships with yokai that are much more genuine than Reiko ever bothered with. While she ruled over yokai with the power of the Book, Natsume reaches out to them with genuine affection, struggling to understand how the yokai‘s wants and priorities might differ from his own. This deceptively simple lesson in learning to value things outside one’s own experience is subtly and effectively presented, with the same gentleness that has characterized the series thus far. The series’ humor is a highlight in this volume as well, providing much-needed contrast to its forthright sentimentality.

Though the series’ structure is still rigidly episodic, Natsume’s character development is satisfying enough to easily keep up the story’s momentum. Natsume’s Book of Friends remains one of this year’s best shojo surprises!

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

Love*Com 17 by Aya Nakahara: B

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After the main Love*Com story finished, mangaka Aya Nakahara published a few additional bonus stories, which are collected in the series’ seventeenth and final volume. Three stories depict Ôtani and Risa during their junior high years and one revisits the gang four months after graduation. One of the major flaws of Love*Com in its later volumes was that, in a transparent effort to milk the series for all it was worth, the focus drifted too much from the leads to the uninspiring supporting cast. Here, at least, each story features one or both of the protagonists in the starring role(s).

Despite its hokey setup—practically every semi-significant character from the series coincidentally converges on the same beach on the same day—the post-graduation story is not only the best of the four, but also provides the best Risa/Ôtani scene in quite some time. It deals with Risa’s feelings of being left behind by her undergraduate friends, who are off having new experiences with people she doesn’t know while she contends with the challenges of fashion stylist school, which is not going as well as she had hoped. Somehow, this series works best when Risa is miserable, and when Ôtani steps up to the plate to cheer her up and listen to her troubles, it provides a better and more personal farewell for the series than the full-cast send-off volume sixteen offered.

It’s been a long time since I paused to admire and reread a particularly sweet moment between these two characters, and I can’t help feeling grateful that I was able to experience it one more time before the end. Maybe, just a little, Love*Com has redeemed itself.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Dear Fandom: Please Grow Up.

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Yesterday saw the release of the first Twilight graphic novel adaptation, produced in all its glossy, hardcover glory by Yen Press. I haven’t had a chance to do more than a quick flip-through so far, but though I’ve never read the novels (and have little interest in doing so) I’m actually looking forward to taking a look at the series in graphic novel form, if only to see what all the hype is about.

By “hype” I’m not only talking about the series’ huge sales. I’m also interested in finding a connection with its notoriously rabid fans. I’ve found myself defending them quite a bit recently against accusations of being “crazy,” “repugnant,” and “freaks,” which has made me more curious about the source of their obsession than I might have been otherwise. After all, if obsessive fandom is the issue, there’s very little I can relate to more. …

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Kiss Your Hair

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By Duo Brand
DMP, 177 pp.
Rating: M (18+)

A long-haired gardener provides special services to his employer but finds himself falling for the butler instead. A teenage houseboy (drawn too young for this reviewer’s comfort) catches his master in a compromising position with the head servant. An artist falls in love with his model and feels unable to sufficiently express his beauty through painting. These stories and more make up the anthology Kiss Your Hair, the latest in English from BL mangaka team Duo Brand, authors of Shards of Affection.

Though this anthology holds together better than some, it is unable to avoid the most common trap plaguing its kind—an inability to choose between romance and pornography. As a result, it ultimately fails at both. Loosely held together by the theme of master and servant (stretched to include relationships like senpai/kohai and employer/employee), each of the volume’s stories features grand declarations of love, almost none of which are well-developed enough to ring true. One possible exception is the story “Escape,” featuring two old friends who find themselves thrown together again in desperate circumstances.

Released under DMP’s adult 801 Media imprint, this manga is never coy about getting its characters into bed, but just as too much sexual content leaves little room for developing romance, the reverse is also true. Though the stories rush blatantly toward consummation (a few even begin there), these scenes feel hurried as well, like flashes of memory from a hazy, drunken night.

Duo Brand’s art is sketchy but expressive, with attractive character designs distinctive enough to provide genuine variety over the course of so many unrelated stories.

Without a clear allegiance to love or lust, Kiss Your Hair ultimately falls short on both counts.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

Manhwa Monday: At the Movies!

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Greetings on another Manhwa Monday! First, a bit of news I picked up from Variety, NETCOMICS will be producing a film version of the manhwa series X Diary by Toma. According to the article, casting will begin in June of this year (with filming beginning in October). The film is being produced by NETCOMICS’ VP Soyoung Jung.

In a review from The Comics Journal earlier this year, Adam Stephanides writes, “X Diary is a feather-light collection of humorous four-panel strips — I would call them gag strips, but “gag” is too strong a word for the gentle humor here — about Mingo (female) and Jerry (male), a pair of 26-year-old ex-lovers who have decided to remain friends … X Diary is unpretentious, and there is a genuine warmth to both the writing and art. It could perhaps best be described as likable.”

For those interested in seeing for themselves, X Diary is available in print …

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How to Capture a Martini by Makoto Tateno: B+

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As a first year in high school, Naoyuki Hibino experienced his first love, first kiss, and first sexual experience with an upperclassman named Shinobu Okada. When Shinobu abruptly disappeared after his graduation, Naoyuki was crushed but did his best to forget him. Four years have passed since that time, but when Naoyuki happens to run into Okada, who’s working as a bartender, all of his old feelings return with a vengeance.

Shinobu doesn’t seem to care about anything anymore, whether it’s his body—he’s willing to “do” just about anyone—or his career, even though his boss and more experienced coworker encourage him frequently to expand his cocktail-making horizons. Earnest Naoyuki can’t accept this attitude, and keeps pouring his concern and love onto Shinobu until the latter finally admits his reasons for keeping his distance.

While this kind of story and couple isn’t exactly groundbreaking—there are shades of Future Lovers in the humor and characterization—it makes for an engaging romance nonetheless. Naoyuki and Shinobu are both likably flawed, and the cast of supporting characters helps move the story along, though I could’ve done without Shinobu’s boss and his incestuous relationship with his teenage brother.

In the end, How to Capture a Martini is a lot of fun and pretty darn adorable. I’m looking forward to the sequel, How to Control a Sidecar, which is due later this spring.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

ZE 4 by Yuki Shimizu: C+

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It’s maintenance time for the kami who serve the kotodama users of the Mitou family, which provides an opportunity to introduce some members of the extended family.

Volume three dealt primarily with the couple of Genma and Himi, an arc that carries over into the first few chapters of this volume. Himi, who had once been the kami of Genma’s father, protects his new master from an attack and “dies” as a result of his injuries. Genma is frantic to have him resurrected, but has trouble adjusting to the new Himi, who has the appearance of the original but none of his memories. I’d have more sympathy for Genma if he hadn’t been such a creep to Himi in the previous volume, but at least this is better than what follows.

After Himi’s maintenance is complete we meet a pair of extremely obnoxious twins and the kami they share. This whole episode—intended to be comedy, one assumes—is jarring because it doesn’t mesh at all with what’s just come before.

I seriously think the twins appear only because Shimizu wanted to draw a threesome, which is an example of ZE’s main problem. I’ve lost count of the characters who’ve appeared in this series so far, and it seems like mangaka Yuki Shimizu is focusing on variety rather than fleshing out any of the characters who’ve been present from the start. The guy who goes crazy for ice cream is still just the guy who goes crazy for ice cream, and nobody else seems poised to grow, either.

There were hints in earlier volumes of a larger story, and maybe those threads will be picked up again in the future, but I’m certainly not holding my breath.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Love*Com 15-16 by Aya Nakahara: B-

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I used to like Love*Com very much, but as I read these two volumes the main thought going through my mind was, “Just end, already!”

End it eventually does, as volume sixteen sees the conclusion of the main story line (the seventeenth and final volume is comprised of short stories) , but before that can happen we must endure more chapters focusing on the supporting cast. First up is the transgendered Seiko, whose dreams of confessing to the boy she likes are stymied by the untimely deepening of her voice. Next, the whole gang takes a conveniently free trip to an unspecified tropical island to witness the wedding of a popular teacher, culminating in a rather immature freakout from Risa at the thought of sharing a room/bed with Ôtani.

As volume sixteen begins, the gang is planning for graduation, but instead of spending the final chapters on the main cast, some new random third-year girl is introduced for the purpose of providing a girlfriend for Kohori, Risa’s coworker who had a thing for her at one point. These chapters—in which the girl (Abe) attempts to break up Risa and Ôtani so that Risa can date Kohori and make him happy—are pretty pointless and predictable, though they do at least inspire Ôtani to dismiss the chances of them breaking up any time soon.

The final chapter of the main story, chapter 62, is nothing fantastic, but still manages to be satisfying. True to form, Risa and Ôtani are late to their graduation ceremony, and as punishment must deliver a speech that devolves into one final comedy routine. A DVD of classmate memories yields further testimonies of love from the protagonists, and everything ends on a sunny note.

I wish the volume had ended there as well, but instead there’s a bonus story about the singer/actor whose first big role was playing Ôtani in the Love*Com movie. It’s all about his struggles to achieve stardom and to get people to listen as he and his buddy play acoustic guitars out in public. It’s exceedingly boring, and memories of Negishi in Detroit Metal City performing the same sorts of gigs—with lyrics as sappy—kept intruding.

Love*Com has fallen a lot in my estimation since its early volumes, but I don’t regret persevering to the end. It should have ended sooner, definitely, and all the filler gets on my nerves, but I can’t really quibble with its warm and fuzzy finale.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Ristorante Paradiso

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Oh, Natsume Ono, I just can’t quit you! I was not wild about not simple, but try as I might, I couldn’t dismiss you as just another overrated indie artist. I couldn’t shake the memory of how I felt when I read the first few chapters of House of Five Leaves — that incredible sensation of discovering a new voice with something fresh to say, of having my love for manga validated all over again. So I picked up Ristorante Paradiso with high hopes. I’m happy to report I felt butterflies and excitement, just like the first time, and am firmly back on Team Ono.

Not that you didn’t test my patience — those first twenty pages were a slog, filled with the kind of amateurish moments that I might expect in a freshman effort. We learn that Casetta dell’Orso is popular because a character says it is; that the waiters are handsome because a character comments on how good-looking they are; that the loyal female clientele comes for the help not the food, again, because a character states it as a fact. In short, you have a bad case of telling instead of showing, of not trusting your artwork to demonstrate the restaurant’s popularity or the studliness of the wait staff. I nearly demanded the check.

Then something wonderful happened: the characters began to interact with each other, and in their impassioned conversations, we began to appreciate who they were, what drew them into the restaurant’s orbit, and why they seem stuck in certain unhappy, unfulfilling roles. Olga, the heroine’s mother, provides an instructive example. In the first few pages of the book, we witness a tense exchange between Olga and Nicoletta, the daughter she abandoned. Nicoletta, now twenty-one, has shown up on her mother’s doorstep demanding to be acknowledged, something Olga refuses to do out of fear that her current husband will leave her. It seems like you were stacking the deck against Olga, Ms. Ono, as Olga initially comes off as a dreadful Mommie Dearest who’s so committed to protecting her own interests that she initiates an elaborate charade to conceal Nicoletta’s identity. But then you slowly reveal how other people see Olga, as a vibrant, intelligent, giving woman who radiates warmth and charm. You help us understand that Olga is both a lousy, selfish mother and a loving wife to her second husband, two roles she struggles to reconcile. That we finish the book feeling sympathy for daughter and mother is testament to your storytelling skills and your obvious affection for your characters.

Your artwork, like your grasp of character, is stronger and more assured in Ristorante Paradiso than it was in not simple. As we watch the waiters moving through Casetta dell’Orso, for example, it’s easy to see why the female clientele swoons: the male characters have strong, distinctive faces that leave a lasting impression. They’re not conventionally handsome, but those faces have a wonderful, lived-in look that’s inviting and alluring — think of Alan Rickman, William Powell, or Marcello Mastroianni, not the smoothly perfect bishonen we’re so accustomed to seeing in manga. When Olga explains her attraction to Lorenzo, her husband, the artwork supports what she says: he’s drawn not as a fantasy object, but as a rugged, bearlike man whose virility is obvious even though his body and face are beginning to soften in middle age.

Put simply, Ms. Ono, you won my heart back. I found Ristorante Paradiso an engaging story filled with complicated, true-to-life characters who I enjoyed getting to know. It was a welcome departure from the emotional torture-porn of not simple, and a promise of good things to come: Gente and House of Five Leaves.

Ristorante Paradiso

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RistoranteParadisoOh, Natsume Ono, I just can’t quit you! I was not wild about not simple, but try as I might, I couldn’t dismiss you as just another overrated indie artist. I couldn’t shake the memory of how I felt when I read the first few chapters of House of Five Leaves — that incredible sensation of discovering a new voice with something fresh to say, of having my love for manga validated all over again. So I picked up Ristorante Paradiso with high hopes. I’m happy to report I felt butterflies and excitement, just like the first time, and am firmly back on Team Ono.

Not that you didn’t test my patience — those first twenty pages were a slog, filled with the kind of amateurish moments that I might expect in a freshman effort. We learn that Casetta dell’Orso is popular because a character says it is; that the waiters are handsome because a character comments on how good-looking they are; that the loyal female clientele comes for the help not the food, again, because a character states it as a fact. In short, you have a bad case of telling instead of showing, of not trusting your artwork to demonstrate the restaurant’s popularity or the studliness of the wait staff. I nearly demanded the check.

…

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