Blog

CSI: Intern at Your Own Risk by Sekou Hamilton and Steven Cummings: C

September 28, 2009 by Michelle Smith

As part of the Las Vegas Police Department’s Outreach Program for high school students, five teenagers earn the right to serve as interns to the CSI unit. Among them is Kiyomi Hudson, who is intrigued by the murder of a classmate, Gretchen Yates. While she and her fellow interns—a creepy guy, a nerdy guy, a jock, and a rather jerky normal guy—perform their normal internly duties of watching demonstrations of forensic techniques and solving sample cases, Kiyomi also spurs them into investigating Gretchen’s death which leads to a (theoretically) dramatic conclusion.

I don’t watch CSI or any of its spin-offs, so some of the presumed appeal of this story is lost on me. Apparently, it features some characters from the show serving in an advisory capacity to the interns, but the only one I recognize is Gil Grissom. Taken only on its own merits, CSI: Intern at Your Own Risk isn’t bad, but it certainly could’ve been better.

The main problem is the disjointed nature of the storytelling, which cuts quickly between a facilities tour, a sample case, and the investigation into Gretchen’s murder. The characters are pretty stereotypical, too, and I found the identity of the culprit completely easy to guess, though not the exact nature of his or her motivation. Some of the dialogue is awkward and I had to laugh at the line “We’re on the scene of last night’s grizzly murder.” Oh no! Poor bear!

Still, now that the concept and group has been introduced, I might actually be interested in seeing the team work another case. Hopefully, if there is to be a next time, the result will be more polished.

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

Moyasimon: Tales of Agriculture, Vol. 1

September 27, 2009 by Katherine Dacey

Warning: the Surgeon General has determined that reading Moyasimon: Tales of Agriculture may be hazardous to your health. Individuals who routinely consume large quantities of yogurt, miso, or natto; keep stashes of Purell in their purses and desk drawers; or have an irrational fear of germs or dirt are cautioned against reading Moyasimon. Side effects include disgust, nausea, and a strong desire to wash one’s hands repeatedly. Those with stronger constitutions, however, may find this odd little comedy fun, if a little too dependent on gross-out humor for laughs.

Moyasimon tells the story of Tadayasu, a country boy with an unusual gift: he can see and talk to bacteria. (In other words, he’s the Doctor Doolittle of the microbial world.) At the urging of his grandfather, Tadayasu leaves his small rural village to attend an agricultural college in Tokyo, his best friend Kei in tow. Tadayasu’s abilities bring him to the attention of the eccentric Professor Itsuki, a terraforming expert, and his foul-tempered research assistant Haruka Hasegawa, a graduate student who dresses like a dominatrix. Though they wax poetic about the scientific applications of Tadayasu’s gift, the pair seem more intent on making fermented delicacies — the smellier, the better — than actually conducting experiments. Also vying for Tadayasu’s attention are Misato and Kawahama, two sad-sack sophomores who reach out to him after bacteria compromise one of their numerous get-rich-quick schemes: bootleg sake.

Tadayasu, for his part, finds the attention unsettling. His dearest wish is to have a normal college experience, a desire frustrated by his family’s refusal to send him anywhere but an agricultural school. He also feels ambivalent about his gift. On the one hand, he understands its life-saving potential after thwarting an e-coli outbreak (he overhears the microorganisms rallying around the cry of “Brew ‘n’ kill!”); on the other hand, his microscopic “Spidey sense” makes many everyday activities — shaking hands, eating yogurt, visiting a messy dormitory room — agonizing, as he’s keenly aware of the bacteria’s presence. (In one of the story’s running gags, Tadayasu swoons whenever he visits Misato and Kawahama’s foul bachelor pad, a veritable bacteria playground of half-consumed beverages, dirty dishes, and fetid mattresses.)

hasegawa The humor is good-natured, though Masayuki Ishikawa indulges his inner ten-year-old’s penchant for gross-out jokes every chance he gets.He repeatedly subjects Tadayasu and Kei to Itsuki’s food fetishes, forcing them to watch Itsuki exhume and eat kiviak (a fermented seal whose belly has been stuffed with birds), or try a piece of hongohoe, a form of stingray sashimi so pungent it makes their eyes water. Ishikawa’s decision to render the bacteria as cute, roly-poly creatures with cheerful faces prevents the story from shading into horror, though it’s awfully hard to shake the image of bacteria frolicking in a bed of natto or around the slovenly Misato’s nostril.

Where Moyasimon really shines is the artwork. Ishikawa’s layouts are detailed yet clear and easy to follow, giving the reader a strong sense of the college and its shabby environs. Ishikawa’s character designs are similarly effective, whether he’s drawing an L. yogurti bacterium or an unscrupulous professor. Take Misato and Kawahama. The two are a classic Mutt-and-Jeff duo: Misato is tall with a scruffy beard, a greasy ponytail, and weasel eyes, while Kawahama is short and round with a dirty face. When we first meet them, we immediately recognize them as a pair of sweating, scheming losers whose big dreams yield little returns. Hasegawa provides another instructive example of how design can play a critical role in establishing character. She’s prickly and aggressive, personality traits amplified by her unusual choice of labwear — knee-high boots with dozens of buckles and sky-high heels, studded belts, and a leather miniskirt — her sharp facial features, and her preferred accessory: a scowl.

Though the art is solid and the characters firmly established, Moyasimon hasn’t quite found its groove yet. Ishikawa can’t make up his mind if he wants us to admire the diversity and tenacity of bacterial life or squirm at the thought of its ubiquity; every educational speech about bacteria’s numerous benefits is punctuated by an icky rim shot. Still, it’s hard to deny the odd appeal of Moyasimon, as Ishikawa takes an all-too-familiar trope — the teen who sees things that other people can’t — and gives it a fresh, idiosyncratic spin.

MOYASIMON: TALES OF AGRICULTURE, VOL. 1 • BY MASAYUKI ISHIKAWA • DEL REY • 224 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Moyasimon: Tales of Agriculture, Vol. 1

September 27, 2009 by Katherine Dacey

Moyasimon1_Cover Warning: the Surgeon General has determined that reading Moyasimon: Tales of Agriculture may be hazardous to your health. Individuals who routinely consume large quantities of yogurt, miso, or natto; keep stashes of Purell in their purses and desk drawers; or have an irrational fear of germs or dirt are cautioned against reading Moyasimon. Side effects include disgust, nausea, and a strong desire to wash one’s hands repeatedly. Those with stronger constitutions, however, may find this odd little comedy fun, if a little too dependent on gross-out humor for laughs.

…

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson: B-

September 24, 2009 by Michelle Smith

From the back cover:
Four seekers have come to the ugly, abandoned old mansion: Dr. Montague, an occult scholar looking for solid evidence of the psychic phenomenon called haunting; Theodora, his lovely and lighthearted assistant; Eleanor, the lonely, homeless girl well acquainted with poltergeists; and Luke, the adventurous future heir of Hill House.

At first, their stay seems destined to be merely a spooky encounter with inexplicable noises and self-closing doors, but Hill House is gathering its powers and will soon choose one of them to make its own.

Review:
The Haunting of Hill House is considered a classic of the horror genre, but honestly, I found it to be a mite snoozeworthy. I think the main problem is me. I’m a desensitized reader in the 21st century, far more difficult to shock and frighten, I assume, than the typical reader in 1959, when the book was published.

It’s the story of four people who gather to spend a summer at the supposedly haunted Hill House and report on paranormal activity there. Eleanor, a lonely woman who’s spent a sheltered decade caring for her ailing mother, quickly emerges as the protagonist, and early on displays a tendency for fanciful ramblings, as each time she passes a picturesque spot on her drive to Hill House, she concocts a story about how she has lived there and lovingly cared for the stone lions flanking the drive, et cetera.

Upon arrival, she quickly makes friends with the other female in the group, Theo. They bond during various terrifying (to them) supernatural disturbances, but the friendship is tested when the house begins to exert its power over Eleanor. It’s subtle at first, but by the end Eleanor is quite taken over by the place and the ending, though rather predictable, is great.

Besides my not finding any of the events truly creepy, Eleanor herself is the primary reason I didn’t enjoy the book more. Even before she begins to be affected by the house, she’s annoying, with a non-stop inner dialogue of self-doubt and worry about what others thought of her that really got on my nerves. Worse than Eleanor is Dr. Montague’s wife, whom I absolutely hated. Thankfully, she’s only present at the very end; I wonder why her odious presence was deemed necessary at all.

In the end, there are elements of the story that I liked and ones that I didn’t. But that’s okay; it’s never a waste of time to read a classic!

Traveling again!

September 24, 2009 by MJ Leave a Comment

Things are going to get quiet here again for a few days as I’ll be boarding an early morning (very early morning) train tomorrow to head out to the New York Anime Festival. I had a great time last year and I anticipate more of the same! NYAF is my kind of con. It’s conveniently located, reasonably sized, and attracts a decent number of manga publishers (though I weep at the lack of Yen Press representation this year!) and since this is its last year alone before teaming up with New York Comic-Con, there’s no way I’d miss it. It’s also close to my old stomping grounds, so I’m usually able to catch up with a friend or two while I’m in town.

If you’re also attending, please stop and say hello to me over the course of the weekend! I’m very much looking forward to meeting up with other manga bloggers, reviewers, and readers, so please don’t be shy (and try to ignore the fact that I am).

I’ll be back next week with news and stories to tell!

Wild Adapter 1-6 by Kazuya Minekura: A-

September 24, 2009 by Michelle Smith

I’ve heard a lot about the works of Kazuya Minekura over the years—mostly in praise of Saiyuki and Saiyuki Reload—but was never particularly tempted to see what all the fuss was about. That changed when MJ, who has uniformly good taste, raved about Wild Adapter on her blog back in June, and was immediately greeted with a chorus of agreement from other trustworthy sources. The time had come, it seemed, for me to have a look for myself.

On its surface, Wild Adapter is the story of Makoto Kubota, a former leader of a yakuza youth gang who is looking into a string of gruesome deaths, victims transformed into beasts by overdosing on a drug known as Wild Adapter. He takes in a “stray cat,” Minoru Tokito, with no memory of his past and a bestial right hand that indicates he’s had at least some exposure to the drug. Together, they attempt to unravel the mystery while Tokito strives to regain his memories and rival yakuza groups pursue Kubota for various reasons. Delving deeper, Wild Adapter is about two broken men who care for each other deeply but are so damaged that their affection manifests in unusual ways.

The first volume of the series serves as a prologue, introducing Kubota as he was before he met Tokito. He joins the Izumo syndicate on a whim and spends seven months as a youth gang leader, forming a close relationship with his second-in-command, Komiya. It’s primarily through Komiya’s eyes that we see Kubota, who seems to shirk his duties and is underestimated by many until he single-handedly administers violent payback to a rival organization. This Kubota trusts only himself, and says things like, “It was him or me, and I only choose me.” After Komiya is killed for investigating Wild Adapter, Kubota quits Izumo and takes in his new houseguest.

Beginning with volume two, which picks up a year later, the series features Kubota and Tokito together, following various leads on Wild Adapter and getting into dangerous predicaments. Each volume is self-contained and introduces a new character who gives an outsider’s perspective on the leads and their relationship. This storytelling approach is fascinating, because by never really allowing us into Kubota’s head, he’s able to come across to the reader the same way he does to the characters who encounter him, like “a mysterious, untouchable man who seemed to float on air.” Tokito is much more openly expressive—as Kubota notes, “he can only tell the truth”—and though his past is unknown, who he is now is not nearly so difficult to ascertain.

Kubota has never cared for anyone before meeting Tokito, and is gradually changed by the relationship. Throughout the series there are quite a few poignant moments where he demonstrates how much he cares for and even needs Tokito and by the end of volume six, he has evolved from someone who only chooses himself into someone who will unhesitatingly risk his own death in order to rescue his kidnapped friend. We probably get the most insight into how Kubota feels about Tokito in volume five, where our point-of-view character is Shouta, an elementary school kid and aspiring manga artist who lives next door. Shouta finds his neighbors cool and exciting and is drawing a manga based on them. He confides to Kubota that he’s having trouble with the character based on him, and in a rare moment of candor, Kubota suggests that the character was searching for something to make him feel alive, but didn’t know what to do once he got it.

We begin to see that Kubota wanted to feel a connection like others do, but the only person he’s ever been able to rely on is himself, so it’s difficult to trust in someone else. “He really cares about Tokito,” the observant Shouta concludes. “He just doesn’t know how to express it.” Interestingly, these insights and the undoubtedly positive influence Kubota and Tokito have on Shouta can lull one into thinking Kubota is a good guy, an impression thoroughly tested by the Kill Bill-esque levels of vengeance on display in volume six.

Tokito, on the other hand, immediately trusts Kubota and gets petulant a couple of times when details of Kubota’s past of which he was not aware come to light. Although he’s by far the more endearing of the two, I find I have less to say about Tokito, perhaps because his origins are still shrouded in mystery and therefore all we have to gauge him by is the present. Readers receive a small tidbit of information about his past in volume six, and he’s had a few flashes of memory, but one can only assume that further development for Tokito will come later.

In addition to possessing fantastic, nuanced characters and a well thought-out approach to storytelling, Wild Adapter also boasts terrific art. In a word, it’s best described as “dark,” with black margins on every page and a gritty and shadowy feel that befits the subject matter. Kubota, in particular, has a knack for appearing distressingly cool while committing heinous acts. Despite the darkness, the art is seldom hard to follow and can also be much brighter, especially when the leads are enjoying some pleasant time together in their apartment, as well as versatile, like when Minekura draws the characters in the style of Shouta’s obviously shounen manga. I’m also impressed by the covers, each of which depicts the characters with a barrier of some kind, be it barbed wire, prison bars, or police tape. The cover on which they are the least obscured is for volume five, which just so happens to be the volume in which their missing first year together is finally revealed. Coincidence? I think not.

About the only complaints I could make is that the Wild Adapter plotline is occasionally sidelined for volumes at a time—volumes four and five, specifically, though these are also my favorites, so make of that what you will—and that there isn’t more! I’m sure Saiyuki fans are thrilled by announcements of new spin-offs, but I’d much rather Minekura work on this series instead!

Wild Adapter balances action, mystery, suspense, and strong character development while being downright addictive and capable of inspiring passionate devotion. In my quest to have more Minekura to read, I might even defect and check out Saiyuki, but in my heart I’ll really be wondering, “How long until volume seven?”

Let’s Talk About Manhwa, Yen Press Edition

September 22, 2009 by MJ 14 Comments

I’ve made quite a few manhwa-heavy posts in the past six months or so, starting with Let’s Talk About Manhwa, in which I declared my love for Korean BL comics and asked for recommendations for all kinds of manhwa. The comments to that post were fantastic–filled with recommendations upon recommendations, only a fraction of which I’ve managed to get to at this point. I’m reading as fast as I can!

The truth is, I’ve really fallen in love with manhwa. It has many of the traits I most love in Japanese manga–lots of epic, dramatic, character-driven, single-creator stories with lovely art and well-paced, finite plots–but each these traits has its own particular quality unique to manhwa. I believe that even if I was presented with flipped manhwa (reading right-to-left like Japanese comics) I would be able to tell at a glance that it was made in Korea–something that has been proven to me already, actually, in the case of one of my favorite single-volume Korean BL stories, U Don’t Know Me. Some of this has to do with the art, particularly the character designs which favor a a particular kind of cheek and chin, full lips and heavily lined eyes, but the storytelling has its own flavor too, with its spunky, outspoken (often even violent) girls and arrogant, swaggering boys.

…

Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy L. Sayers: B

September 21, 2009 by Michelle Smith

From the back cover:
When ad man Victor Dean falls down the stairs in the offices of Pym’s Publicity, a respectable London advertising agency, it looks like an accident. Then Lord Peter Wimsey is called in, and he soon discovers there’s more to copywriting than meets the eye. A bit of cocaine, a hint of blackmail, and some wanton women can be read between the lines. And then there is the brutal succession of murders—five of them—each one a fixed fee for advertising a deadly secret.

Review:
Murder Must Advertise finds Lord Peter Wimsey infiltrating an advertising agency and investigating whether a man was killed for knowing too much. He assumes the identity of his (fictional) disreputable cousin, Death Bredon, for the purpose and, in the course of his probe, also dons the costume of a harlequin in an attempt to extract information from a notoriously drug-addled woman. Some of the story is told from the perspectives of outsiders who encounter Peter in these guises, paving the way for long entries about office squabbles and excruciatingly detailed passages about cricket matches (in which Lord Peter saves the day, of course). Sayers also works in a good deal of criticism of the advertising profession and how it preys on the poor by purporting to offer them luxury at an affordable price.

This mystery isn’t bad, but something about it didn’t click with me. I think the problem is that I’m used to knowing more about the case going in, what Peter is thinking, that sort of thing. This time his actions are more mysterious, particularly as regards his aims with the whole harlequin masquerade, and sometimes lost me a bit. Too, though the latter half of the book seems to focus more on the drug trade issue (I believe that by this point Peter already had the murderer pegged), in the end the resulotion to the drug plot occurs entirely off camera and the identity of the much sought-after kingpin turns out to be rather disappointing.

Maybe the real problem is that I miss the repartee between Peter and Harriet. Oh well, only one more to go before Gaudy Night!

Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You, Volume 2

September 21, 2009 by MJ Leave a Comment

Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You, Vol. 2
By Karuho Shiina
Published by Viz Media

Buy This Book

Yano and Yoshida first laugh off the rumor that Sawako has been spreading stories about them. After overhearing Sawako deny their friendship, however, they begin to doubt themselves, ultimately learning just how deep their feelings for her go. Certain that her association with Kazehaya, Yano, and Yoshida is destroying their popularity, Sawako tries to distance herself from them but she too learns a lesson about her own feelings in the process.

…

The Manga Hall of Shame

September 20, 2009 by Katherine Dacey

Though my taste in manga is very particular, I’m much less discriminating in my reading habits. My willingness to try anything has yielded some wonderful surprises: Ai Morinaga’s Duck Prince, Taiyo Matsumoto’s No. 5, Shioko Mizuki’s Crossroad, Kazuo Umezu’s Scary Book, Motofumi Kobayashi’s Apocalypse Meow. The flipside of being a gourmand is that I’ve encountered my share of truly dreadful stuff, too — the kind of manga with such incoherent plots, unappealing characters, clumsy artwork, and tin-eared dialogue that they beg the question, Who thought this was a good idea?

Now that I’d donned my flame-proof pants, here are my candidates for the Manga Hall of Shame:

miyuki 10. Miyuki-chan in Wonderland
By CLAMP • Tokyopop • 1 volume
I’ve read my way through the highs and lows of the CLAMP canon, from the Gothic angst of Tokyo Babylon to the cutesy antics of Kobato, and can say with great confidence that this odd one-shot represents the nadir of this talented quartet’s work. Miyuki-chan probably sounded like a great idea on paper: a young girl falls down a hole and finds herself in a sexed-up version of Lewis Carroll’s famous story. Unfortunately, the story bears almost no resemblance to Carroll’s original; Miyuki-chan is really just a pretext for CLAMP to draw scantily-clad beauties engaging in vaguely naughty behavior, usually by making a pass at Miyuki or inviting her to play strip poker. The stories are short and repetitive, barely spanning 100 pages in total, and are so inane that they don’t work as pornography or parody.

9. Nightmares for Sale
By Kaoru Ohashi • Aurora Publishing • 2 volumes
The premise of Nightmares for Sale is pure comeuppance theater: in exchange for having their dearest wishes granted – in this case, by the proprietors of Shadow’s Pawn Shop – bad people receive their just desserts. For this old-as-the-hills premise to succeed, three basic conditions need to be met. First, the audience needs to understand the subject is unrepentantly bad and not merely flawed or misguided. Second, the audience needs to see the chain of decisions that lead to the subject’s downfall. And third, the punishment needs to fit the crime. Alas, manga-ka Kaoru Ohashi doesn’t satisfy these basic criteria in Nightmares for Sale. A few characters get what they deserve, but many of the stories are sloppily executed; we don’t learn how or why the subject is being punished until Shadow appears at the end of the story to tell us. By far the worst chapter is “Children of Darkness,” in which a woman is tormented by the spirit of her unborn child. No matter what your personal convictions on abortion, the story is both macabre and misogynist, and shows an astonishing lack of compassion for the subject’s situation. Not even the artwork can redeem this clunker: it’s both busy and generic, a hot mess of awkwardly posed bodies and poorly applied screentones. (Review originally posted at PopCultureShock, 11/28/07)

armkannon 8. Arm of Kannon
By Masakazu Yamaguchi • Tokyopop • 9 volumes
After a nearly three-year absence, archaeologist Tozo Mikami returns to his family with a mysterious object in tow: the Arm of Kannon, an ancient Buddhist relic that, unbeknownst to Mikami’s son Maso, is a parasitic weapon that feeds off its host’s life force while transforming him into a tentacled killing machine. Before we’re too far into volume one, the Arm of Kannon destroys Tozo, choosing Maso as its next host. What follows is an unholy marriage of gore, mystical mumbo-jumbo, and military conspiracy theories, as Maso rapes and dismembers people, gets captured by an army contractor, then kills some more. A third-act detour into the distant past adds unnecessary complications to the plot; it’s as if Yamaguchi got bored with his characters but realized that he hadn’t quite resolved things enough to simply end the story. The art is incredibly detailed, which is a mixed blessing: if you like your entrails rendered with anatomical specificity, Arm of Kannon might be your cup of tea. Anyone in search of a coherent plot or sympathetic characters, however, is advised to look elsewhere.

devilwithin 7. The Devil Within
By Ryo Takagi • Go! Comi • 2 volumes
If 98.7% of shojo heroines are kind, smart, enthusiastic, and/or sincere—read likeable—Rion, the sixteen-year-old heroine of The Devil Within is a rare outlier: she suffers from a full-on shota complex that makes her seem mentally unbalanced. Forced into choosing among three prospective fiances (all adults), Rion instead pins her hope on a young neighbor who happens to be a fifteen-year-old trapped in a five-year-old’s body. Making this whole distasteful concept even more unpalatable is the way in which manga-ka Ryo Takago treats the principle character; Rion endures truly grotesque forms of abuse from her suitors that results in her abject humiliation. Hats off to anyone who made it through the first volume without squirming — I couldn’t.

dragonsister 6. Dragon Sister!
By Nini • Tokyopop • 2 volumes
Buried beneath the slapstick, speedlines, and extreme mammary close-ups is an intriguing premise: what if ancient China’s greatest warriors were, in fact, women? Dragon Sister! begins around 184 AD, when three brothers—Zhang Jiao, Zhang Bao, and Zhang Liang—acquire a set of magical scrolls capable of granting any wish. In their desire to overthrow the Han Dynasty, the brothers pray that no more heroes will be born. Their scheme backfires, however, transforming them into a cabal of power-hungry girls. As the country descends further into chaos, young nobleman Liu Bei forms a volunteer army to oppose the Zhangs, recruiting two busty babes, Zhang Fei and Guan Yu, to aid his cause. None of this is explained very clearly—we never have a sense of who the various factions are, or why Liu Bei remains faithful to a corrupt emperor. Instead, Nini treats us to a seemingly endless parade of costume failures, crude jokes, and scenes of predatory lesbianism, all delivered in speech that vacillates between present-day dudespeak and wuxia film formality. Strictly for the fanservice crowd. (Review originally posted at PopCultureShock, 11/2/08)

gorgeouslife 5. The Gorgeous Life of Strawberry-chan
By Ai Morinaga • Media Blasters • 2 volumes
I didn’t think it was possible to dislike anything by Ai Morinaga, but this sadistic boarding-school comedy proved me wrong. There’s no real story here; most of the “action” revolves around Akiyoshi, a fatuous pretty boy, and Strawberry-Chan, his talking frog. Akiyoshi delights in torturing his pet, squashing Strawberry-Chan, burying him alive, and even inflating him like a balloon via a well-placed straw. (If Morinaga is trying to make a greater point with her hero’s perverse antics, I can’t imagine what it is.) Adding insult to injury is the art, which is a riot of misapplied screentones, clashing patterns, and extreme facial close-ups—it’s the best representation of a migraine I’ve ever seen committed to paper, but some of the worst sequential art I’ve seen, period. (Review originally posted at PopCultureShock, 5/31/08)

jpopidol1 4. J-Pop Idol
Story by MILLENNI+ M, Art by Toko Tashiro • Tokyopop • 2 volumes
Until Tokyopop releases a Glitter Cinemanga, otaku eager for overripe musical drama will have to content themselves with J-Pop Idol. But unlike Glitter, which is bad in a jaw-dropping, can’t-take-my-eyes-off-it way, J-Pop Idol is just plain bad. A big part of the problem is the story, which has been hastily cobbled together from dozens of similar, Star Is Born narratives–so hastily, in fact, that many scenes feel like complete non-sequitors. One of the most egregious examples can be found in the very first pages, when the members of an up-and-coming girl group face a test of their friendship: after winning a major talent competition, only one of them is singled out for a recording contract. From the context, however, it’s impossible to see why producers chose Maki over band mates Kay and Naomi, as Maki lacks the charisma, talent, and sex appeal that distinguished Diana Ross from her fellow Supremes.

The rest of volume one charts Maki’s attempt to build a recording career under the tutelage of handsome idol Ken, who motivates his protege with tough talk and hard lessons. There’s also a subplot involving tuberculosis that might not seem out of place in a Joan Crawford weepie, but seems downright ludicrous in a manga aimed at a teenage audience. The bottom line: J-Pop Idol may have been a “#1 hit mobile manga in Japan,” but that endorsement carries about as much weight as Paula Abdul’s enthusiastic cheerleading on American Idol. (Review originally posted at PopCultureShock, 3/10/08)

seraphicfeather 3. Seraphic Feather
Art by Hiroyuki Utatane • Story by Yo Morimoto and Toshiya Takeda • Dark Horse • 6 volumes
Seraphic Feather has three strikes against it: an overly fussy plot, tin-eared dialogue, and lousy artwork. The story revolves around the discovery of an alien spaceship on the far side of the Moon. Various Earthly factions compete for the downed ship, hoping to unlock its powers using the Emblem Seeds, ~~a high-protein energy bar~~ a mysterious power source. Running in tandem with the main plot are a love story between a young man named Sunao and his childhood friend Kei — who mysteriously re-appears after dying in an explosion on the Moon — and a subplot involving Kei’s brother Apep, who mysteriously sprouts a pair of wings. Making these baroque plot twists harder to take is the dialogue, all of which sounds like it was pilfered from an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. The frosting on the cake, however, is the art: Hiroyuki Utatane seems more interested in drawing buxom girls and explosions than advancing the plot. Though characters yell and grab each other by the arm on almost every page, the story is dead in the water long before the end of volume one. Anyone who finds the cover art sexy will find the actual story an even bigger let-down, as it’s much tamer than the bustier and riding crop might suggest.

innocentw 2. Innocent W
By Kei Kusonoke • Tokyopop • 4 volumes
I can’t decide if Kei Kusonoke is exceptionally efficient or just plain disgusting. To wit: on the very first pages of this three-volume series, she treats us to a panty shot of a girl with a gruesome injury. Things don’t improve much from there, as the story quickly devolves into a Wiccan Battle Royale, pitting a group of young witches against an assortment of sadistic weirdos in a remote, wooded area. The hunters rape, torture, and mutilate the young women for sport, leaving a trail of dismembered corpses in the forest before the survivors gain the upper hand. Perhaps more disturbing than the actual story is the artwork. Kusonoke lavishes considerable attention on the characters’ costumes and hairstyles, but can’t be bothered to endow their faces with any expression; it’s as if the entire cast consumed large amounts of valium right before the mayhem began. They look bored. Funny, I was too…

colorofrage1 1. Color of Rage
Story by Kazuo Koike • Art by Seisake Kano • Dark Horse • 1 volume
First published in 1973, this historical drama plays like a mash-up of The Last Samurai, Rush Hour, and Mandingo. The story begins in 1783, when a whaling ship goes down off the coast of Japan. Two men — George, who’s Japanese, and King, who’s African-American — wash ashore, cut off their shackles, and head inland, only to discover a landscape populated by unscrupulous samurai and feudal lords who hold the peasants in thrall. For such a far-fetched premise to work, its principal characters’ thoughts, words, and actions need to make sense in historical context. Yet George and King behave like two modern action heroes deposited in feudal Japan, not two products of the eighteenth century; it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to imagine John Cho and Will Smith slashing and wise-cracking their way through a big-screen adaptation. Making things worse are several scenes of brutal misogyny — what the editors euphemistically call “pulpy sexiness” — that are made all the more cringe-worthy by the unexamined racial stereotypes on parade. Kazuo Koike is always pushing the boundaries of good taste — that’s part of what makes Crying Freeman and Lady Snowblood so much fun — but Color of Rage sails way over the line and keeps on going. (Review originally posted at PopCultureShock, 5/18/08)

* * * * *

I’ll be the first to admit that this list reflects my own biases. I don’t have much patience for fanservice, sadism, or gore for gore’s sake; if I’m going to be treated to dismembered bodies and panty shots, there needs to be a story and some memorable characters for me to be on board with it. I realize that some folks don’t feel the same way as I do, and that’s OK. There’s plenty of room for all of us under the manga-loving tent, even if we can’t agree on whether Arm of Kannon is awesome or awful. (In other words: hate the manga, not the critic.)

So what manga belong on your all-time worst list and why? Inquiring minds want to know!

POSTSCRIPT, 9/28/09: Over at Okazu, Erica Friedman posts her Yuri Manga Hall of Shame, five blisteringly funny critiques of books like Suzunari and Alice on Deadlines. Go, read, and be glad you dodged a 4-koma manga about cat clone twincest.