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Combat Commentary: Bleach (The Entire Series)

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It occured to me that in the event that I ever run out of fights to cover (HA!), I needed to think of variations on my basic theme. And then I thought, instead of focusing on individual fights, it would be worth it to look at the basic fighting style(s) of entire mangas. If the overall fighting style of the manga isn’t interesting, then no amount of individual fights can salvage it. So in the spirit of imposing my opinion on which fighting manga are worth your time, I will start this brand new variation on my old theme.

Bleach has been called Dragonball Z, with swords. And I personally have absolutely no idea where anyone ever got that idea. I mean it’s not like Bleach spends insane amounts of time on fights, has characters of world shattering power, constant powerups, and always one more enemy to overcome … okay so maybe I can see where people might get that idea. But this is not a piece comparing DBZ and Bleach, rather it’s about the fighting in Bleach as a whole.

While Bleach does fall under the category of a “sword” manga, the swords are never really focused on that much, at least not later on in the series. There is no actual swordplay that goes into the series, rather it’s about who has the higher spirit power. Essentially the swords could be removed from the equation, and absolutely nothing would change.

Where a series like Rurouni Kenshin focuses a great deal on the philosophy of swords, different sword techniques, etc, Bleach takes a different approach. Rather than taking a swordsman philosophy stance, Bleach instead takes a “warrior” stance. The characters are not seen as swordsmen, but rather as warriors. This is emphasized by the fact that several of the characters have releases that remove all semblance of swordsmanship from their fighting style.

While there are several fighting styles presented in the manga, the most basic form of combat is using Zanpakuto, which are essentially the only weapons capable of damaging spirits. Each Zanpakuto has three forms it can take. The basic form is that of a Katana, which rarely gets used during fights as the series progresses; the next form is the Shikai, which changes the form of the Zanpakuto and gives it extra powers—very few of the Zanpakuto still look like swords after this initial release; the final release is the Bankai, which enhances the basic powers given by the Shikai, and enhances the spirit powers of the wielder.

Initially the basic enemies, Hollows (fallen spirits that devour other souls), have a variety of powers, but as the series progresses they are replaced by the Arrancar, a new form of Hollow that have removed their masks to gain Soul Reaper powers. They seal their Hollow powers into Zanpakuto that they can release to unseal those powers.

Throughout the later volumes of the series, a lot of focus is put on why Ichigo fights, with a fair bit of philosophizing going on about what it means to be a warrior. The fights, early on at least, are well developed, and take advantage of the unique powers to make every conflict interesting. In a way, despite the initial focus being swords, moving away from swords is a good idea, as it provides an infinite number of possible powers. But as the series progresses, more focus is put on nothing but the fights. And without the investment required to care about the conflict, I for one was left uninterested in any of the fights, especially since many of them devolved into just sword fights, something the series had moved away from.

Overall, Bleach took full advantage of a large variety of powers, and made fights that were a delight to read. Unfortunately, the fights lost their luster later on, resulting in a series that focuses entirely on fights, but fails to instill them with any kind of gravitas. Considering that for a while it was one of the only series where the outcome of the fights could really get me emotionally invested (see Ichigo vs Ulquiorra), it’s a real shame to have lost that.

I hope you enjoyed this new format. I’ll still focus on individual fights, but I think it might be interesting to look at the fighting styles of a series overall. I can’t promise anything just yet, but eventually I plan to broaden my gaze even further, and compare fighting styles of different series, to really show how they compare to each other, in an attempt to really understand what makes for a good fight scene.

Feel free to check out Derek’s blog over at Burning Lizard Studios, for manga and anime, as well as general graphic novel and cartoon reviews.

Comic Conversion: The Baby-Sitters Club

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The Baby-Sitters Club: Kristy’s Great Idea | Novel: Ann M. Martin / Scholastic | Graphic Novel: Raina Telgemeier / Graphix

Kristy Thomas has a great idea — she and her friends can work together to give beleaguered a one-stop-shop for baby sitters. That’s how the Baby-Sitters Club is formed, with Mary-Anne, Claudia, and the new girl, Stacey. A few problems pop up—prank calls, crazy kids, and accidental dog-sitting among them—but the club can work through it all. Stacey has a secret, and Kristy’s dying to know what it is. But when she pushes her new friend too hard, she risks losing the club when it’s barely even started.

Kristy’s Great Idea, the very first book in The Baby-Sitter’s Club, was originally published in 1986. Since then there have been 131 novels (and that’s not including any of the spin-off series!), though original author Ann M. Martin only wrote the first 35 herself. In 2006, five years after the conclusion of the novel series, Scholastic’s imprint Graphix released a graphic novel adaptation by Eisner Award winner Raina Telgemeier. The books themselves went out of print in 2009, but recently, Scholastic began rereleasing the first several books for a new generation of fans.

Confession time—I was a HUGE Baby-Sitters Club fan. I owned half the novels, and continued getting the other half out of the library until I realized I was older than the characters I was reading about. I picked up the first Baby-Sitters Club book again with some trepidation. At the very least, it’s been 13 years since I last read a BSC novel, and as it tends to go with many things I loved as a child, I worried the book wouldn’t stand up today. I was wrong. Martin tells the story in simple but interesting prose, easily keeping her readers engrossed. And it’s funnier than I remembered, like when one child insists her cat, Boo-boo, has been bewitched by the creepy neighbor when the animal begins to freak out and streak across the yard. Now over 25 years old, the book has some quirks that date it in the 80’s (handwritten essays, overalls as a fashion statement), but much of the novel focuses on the girls and their relationships with both family and friends—universal problems with any preteen reader—so that the story still feels current and relatable. And although each of the characters has a particular role that she fills—the tomboy, the popular girl—within 150 pages Martin gives them enough depth so that we get realistic, fleshed-out characters instead of a group of stereotypes.

One thing I didn’t notice as a kid was the diversity in the book. A main character is Asian, many characters come from broken or mixed homes, and another deals with a disease. The Baby-Sitters Club covered a spectrum with its characters, but what’s really fantastic is how blended and natural this diversity is. Being a different race or having a non-traditional family doesn’t feel strange in this book, or forced as if Martin was trying to make a point. Instead it’s just natural—the way things simply are—a wonderful point of view for a children’s book to have.

Having now rekindled my love of Ann M. Martin’s series I went into Raina Telgemeier’s graphic novel with a decent level of excitement. From the front cover you can tell that this adaptation is crafted by a fan. The character designs are alive with personality, from Kristy’s wide grin to Mary-Anne’s perpetually nervous looks. She even manages to make Claudia look sufficiently more “grown up” than her friends while still making her believably 12-years-old. Characters’ faces carry a range of emotions that are more telling than some of the prose, like with the loaded looks Kristy gives Watson, her stepfather-to-be.

The graphic novel matches the quick pace of the novel, packing in all of the events without making the comic feel crowded and rushed. Like a lot of adaptations, Telgemeier transfers parts of the novel’s narration to the comic’s voice over, but it works better here than in most cases. The first person point of view keeps the narration sounding like Kristy’s telling the story. Also, Telgemeier is pretty wise in how she uses it, generally only inserting the narration when it would be too awkward or long-winded to put the information into dialogue or thoughts.

I was absolutely wrapped up in the world of The Baby-Sitters Club through elementary and middle school, and it’s with a glad heart that I say I can still recommend the novel today. The novel is funny and easy to relate to, and with the cute updated cover little girls might not notice that the book is three times as old as they are. Telgemeier’s graphic novel is also a great introduction to the series, so much fun and so well-crafted that I’m genuinely disappointed that only the first four BSC books received adaptations. Acknowledging my own bias, I lean more towards recommending the novel, but both are great books that I’d give to any little girl.

Have any graphic novel adaptations you think do a good job? Or a comic you want me to check out for you? Leave suggestions for future columns in the comments!

Manga the Week of 5/16

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Don’t mind me, I’m just depressed. Still no Oresama Teacher 8 for me. And now Story of Saiunkoku 7 is missing as well. Oh Diamond, why must you hurt so?

That said, Midtown Comics is still getting a bunch of stuff in next week. Let’s go over it publisher by publisher.

Being around the Manga Bookshelf team has made me feel guilty that I tend to ignore manwha, so I’ll just note that the 11th volume of romantic fantasy Bride of the Water God is here. It runs in a magazine called Wink. Also, I hear there are gods.

Digital Manga Publishing has a bunch of new BL series, as well as some old favorites. Both Castle Mango and Samejima-kun & Sasahara-kun sound much sillier than the usual solicits I see, which pleases me. More silly BL, please! As for Starry Sky, it’s hard to find info on it except that I think it came from Comic B’s Log, so may not be true BL but BL-ish. It does seem to star a female. Lastly, we have new volumes of Private Teacher and The Tyrant Falls in Love, both of which tie for this week’s ‘sounds most like a USA Up All Night movie’ award.

Kodansha gives us Sailor Moon Vol. 5, which wraps up the ‘R’ arc, and features my all-time favorite Sailor Moon manga moment. We also get the 6th volume of the Emily Rodda series Deltora Quest, which Kodansha snapped up and turned into manga before, say, Yen Press could. :)

Seven Seas has the 4th volume of A Certain Scientific Railgun, which says right on the back that it’s beginning the long-awaited ‘Sisters’ arc, thus showing that any attempt to market this series to newbies has long since left town. Should be good, though. I quite enjoyed the last volume.

Lastly, Viz stuff is still trickling in, as we see Naruto 56 (huge good pile of ninjas battle the enemy’s huge evil pile of reanimated ninjas), and Inu Yasha VIZBIG Edition 11, which presumably has Vols. 31-33. It’s more than halfway there! And also features the undead, which is apparently Viz’s theme this week.

So what floats your boat?

Fannish Drift: All We Are Is Lust In the Wind?

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Hello, Manga Bookshelf!

It’s the time of year where everything turns into a frenzy, and I haven’t had much opportunity for reflecting upon fannish things; but lately something has been on my mind, and that’s the syndrome of Fannish Drift. In this case I’m speaking in the fandom sense–how people move from one fandom to the next.

There are several reasons this has been on my mind: the primary one is that May 5th, the flagstone day for my previous fandom, Hikaru no Go, has come and gone without my doing anything to commemorate it, other than allowing the fandom at large to take over the “Let’s Five!” meme that I began 6 years ago. As you may remember from last year when it was hosted right here, the meme had been hosted in numerous places, and I didn’t have the heart to move it to yet a 4th location when it could have a permanent home. And while I love the canon as much as ever, I’m just not in the fandom anymore. I’ve stopped participating in the community and devoting large sections of my headspace to thinking about board games and the ghosts who play them. :D

Since 2010 I’ve been happily esconced in the fandom for Inception, which is an unlikely fandom to have survived this long because it’s a film fandom, and film fandoms tend to have very small fandoms and very short afterlives. For whatever reason, luckily for us, Inception fandom has been the exception, and is still going strong as a mid-sized fandom nearly two years later. Still, it’s inevitable that there’s been a decline in size over the years as people move on, and in a fandom whose largeness was always a surprise, it’s impossible not to notice the change. Which brings me to my second reason–watching fannish drift occur in my current fandom, and the accompanying experience of feeling overwhelmed by the current “trendy” fandoms.

As far as western fandoms go, I seem to be a bit of a strange bird because while I’ve dabbled in all kinds of fandoms during down periods, I tend to be very fandom monogamous. Literally for the last two years I’ve read nothing but Inception fanfic, because it was all I wanted to read, and it’s hard to get me to participate actively in multiple fandoms at once. I am, of course, aware of other fandoms and general fandom trends, but I don’t really invest in them heavily when I’m pre-engaged. :) My experience with Japanese fandoms has been totally different, however: during the period I was most heavily involved in Japanese fandoms, I was involved in, or at least actively conversant in, several at once: Tenipuri, Hikago, Nobuta wo Produce, Death Note, J-pop and J-rock. There have been moments when I’ve engaged with western media this way (most notably every year at Yuletide) but I also think there’s more of a culture, with western media fandoms, of movement from one fandom to another, rather than inhabiting multiple fandoms at once. I think that’s why lately I’m experiencing more of a disconnect between fannish social platforms: on tumblr, where it’s incredibly easy to reblog evidence of 20 different fandoms a day, fannish activity seems endlessly diverse; but in most other fandom corners I inhabit, the evidence for “active” fandoms–the fandoms people are talking about the most, the fandoms people are actively engaging in–seems largely confined to a handful at the moment: primarily, of course, Avengers, but also Teen Wolf, Sherlock, and hockey RPF.

Of course, the active fandoms I’ve just listed all have a white male bromance at their center, and many fans talk about this trend of movement between fandoms as being linked to the constant desire to seek out endless repetitions of this dynamic.* You might hear this phenomenon termed “Migratory Slash Fandom” or “Random Militant Slashers.” I have incredibly mixed feelings about this, honestly. I think it’s a very valid depiction of how many western media fans respond to canons, and a valid depiction of what kind of canons gain fan followings quickly. But I also think it’s a) sexist, because it’s usually used as a way to judge other female fans for doing fandom wrong, and b) limiting, because it presupposes that the only reason for fannish drift–for this movement from fandom to fandom–is because the fans are just moving around in search of more hot white guys to ship.

(Though for today, at least, the popular pairing seems to be F/F. I am speaking of Creamsicle, everyone’s new favorite OTP created in under 24 hours entirely from an unlikely internet meme!)


(Source = Tumblr, possible (?) credit to whileothersreap)

 

I’ll use my own fandom as an example: Inception fandom primarily revolves around the Arthur/Eames ship, which is a relationship between two characters who have literally three minutes of total screentime together. But they fit the formula for what pulls in the Random Militant Slashers completely: hot white guys, banter, easy chemistry, and: voila! Instantly popular fandom. But is that all there is to it? As I’ve said earlier, everyone was surprised by Inception’s popularity, and two years later, no one expected the fandom would still be this active, much less thriving. To me, that’s all the credit to the incredible possibilities the film gives us for worldbuilding and creation and literally endless interpretations of the canon universe and its alternatives. In other words, Arthur and Eames may arguably be cardboard stock characters dropped into a heist film ensemble, but if everything else about the film weren’t so compelling, none of us would be writing fics for it.

Still, when I see people moving on from Inception fandom predictably moving into other fandoms where the “two white guys + banter” phenomenon holds sway, I wonder what a more accurate set of criterion is for what pulls people from one fandom to the next, or if maybe there just isn’t one.

So tell me, MB: in your experience, what creates fannish drift? What draws you to a fandom initially and what keeps you there? Does it change over time, or does it change with every fandom? Is it easier to be in lots of fandoms at once or to devote yourself just to one until you’re done with it, then move on? Is there a culture divide in how we perceive fannish movement between Eastern and Western fandoms? I have no idea. But as I’ve already said, I’m an odd bird.

(Then again, I might just spend the rest of my day writing Normal Girl/Other-Girl-san~.)

Manga the Week of 5/9

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After a very busy week this week, next week is looking eerily quiet. Too quiet. (Except for me. Due to shipping issues with Diamond and UPS you may have heard of, 2/3 of my order this week never showed. Some is coming next week… some still later. In case you wonder where my Oresama Techer review is…)

In fact, Midtown is so quiet I’m going to throw in some stuff not on their list. One came in via Diamond today, the other next week, and both are from Drawn & Quarterly. Yoshihiro Tatsumi’s Fallen Words is a new short story collection from the author of A Drifting Life, each story told in the oral tradition of rakugo. I got that one today, and it looks fantastic.

And next week we get a new Shigeru Mizuki title, NonNonBa, a memoir about his lifelong interest in yokai. Given we are apparently not getting Gegege no Kitaro over here anytime soon, this is the next best thing, and everyone who reads this blog should get a copy. (For those wondering, Midtown apparently gets their ‘indie publisher’ stuff from a non-Diamond source, meaning some D&Q titles take forever to get there.)

Dark Horse has two manga ouit, one new and one a re-release. The new is the 2nd volume of Yasuhiro Nightow’s Blood Blockade Battlefront, which brings a Jump Square mentality to his traditional Western-style gunplay heroics. Let’s hope Shieisha’s editors were better than Shonen Gahosha’s at making his art more coherent, especially in fight scenes.

Speaking of incoherence, Dark Horse is also releasing the FLCL series as one big omnibus. Originally an anime, it was adapted in Kodansha’s Magazine Z, which tended to be devoted to media properties. Tokyopop released it back in the day, but this should have a fresh new translation and color pages and other cool things. I wasn’t too impressed first time round, I seem to recall, but then I found the anime overrated as well. If you liked the anime, though, this should be right up your street.

Another ‘not from Midtown but from Diamond’ title, the fourth in Seven Seas’s A Certain New York Times Bestselling Railgun is coming out, and should be electrifying as usual. So to speak.

Lastly, a Viz title that for some reason didn’t come in with the pile this week. The Story of Saiunkoku is up to Vol. 7, and now that Shurei actually is a civil servant, she should finally be able to achieve her dream… once she stops being bullied damn near to death, of course. The series recently ended in Asuka at 9 volumes (though the light novels go on forever), so we’re in the home stretch. Court intrigue ahoy!

So what are you getting this week? (And yes, Sailor Moon will be out in bookstores a week before comic stores, as usual. I’ll plug it next week, no doubt.)

Subtitles & Sensibility: Sequel time with Death Note & Gantz

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Back in February I shared my thoughts on the first live action Death Note & Gantz films, and honestly, not a lot has changed since I watched the sequels. (If you haven’t seen either, that post should be sufficient. This post assumes franchise knowledge for both.)

I did find the overall experience surprising. My snap judgment was that I would really enjoy Death Note, but I would find Gantz a little too dry & sci -fi for my taste. Instead, I frequently disliked Death Note, but I thoroughly enjoyed Gantz. There were two key differences for me between the two.

First, in Death Note, we are watching the manipulators from their areas of power, whereas in Gantz we are with the manipulated, watching these ordinary people trying to do their best in an extraordinary world. Second, the respective morality of the films was very different. In Death Note, even though Light is being pursued by authorities, the film accepts his decisions to kill in a way that I was uncomfortable with. Plus, an element of the Death Note is that the holder can kill from afar, so he doesn’t have to get his hands dirty. In Gantz, however, the characters brought back from death to fight are conflicted about killing, and when they choose to follow the instructions of Gantz it is for a clear goal: to earn enough points to either bring back someone else who has died, or so they might free themselves from the program. And even with this, in the second Gantz film, they are questioned outright about why they’re fighting, and it is clear that they question this themselves.

As for particulars of the films themselves….

In Death Note: The Last Name, the production value runs the gamut from soap opera to video game. Story-wise a few new complications are added to the rules of the Death Note (and a second Death Note is introduced), though none of this really challenges L, who works intuitively. The story tension is meant to come not from whether or not L will know that Light is Kira, but whether or not he will be able to prove it. However, Light and his various associates, be they gods of death or devoted fans, continue to remain one contrived step ahead of L’s ability to discover hard evidence.

As for Gantz: The Perfect Answer, it was a satisfying conclusion to the story. New elements were brought in, like people who are investigating the rumors of Gantz and the possibility that these dead people are still alive, and as aforementioned, the fighters deal with some heavy questions about who they are fighting and why.

There are a number of excellent action sequences involving a subway car, though there were definitely some moments where I wished I was watching it in the theater. Action on DVD frequently goes on too long to hold my interest, but that’s a personal thing. Overall, I enjoyed both Gantz films, and they’ve got me interested in the anime and manga, which is a huge success.

::

On a whim I picked up L: Change the World at the library, and to my surprise, very much enjoyed it. It’s an L-specific spin-off of the Death Note live action films, and opens just before the Kira story begins. It starts with L working with Naomi on a case, and I actually really wished we could have had more of that. Naomi is a fun, capable character, and I enjoyed the taste we got of their relationship. If anyone could tell me if that is expanded on in the anime or manga I would really appreciate it.

The film quickly leaps through the timeline of the first two films, and the bulk of it takes place after. L takes some time finishing off odds and ends of cases, and this is his last big case before his chosen death comes. Essentially it’s a completely unoriginal bioterrorism-type outbreak story, but I enjoyed getting to know more about L outside of his entanglement with Light, especially insofar as it gave us a better look at the system L works within. The villains have a pretty traditional plan to destroy the world so they can remake it, but at least in the process they have to engage with the world, which makes them much more interesting than Light, hiding behind his notebook.

It’s a testament to the work Matsuyama had done with the character of L over the prior two films that when he engages in simple human behaviors it’s incredibly strange to watch. When he’s simply being outside in the world, it made me nervous. I wanted to encase him in bubble wrap & return him to his hermetically sealed chamber, full of sweets & computer monitors. In the course of fighting the virus, he has to interact with children, and it’s a great twist to watch this child-like character struggle to connect. As a bonus, children are the perfect people to ask L all the questions we’ve had through the prior two films. Why does he eat so much sugar? Is he even capable of standing up straight?

In the end, L: Change the World was a treat for me for making it through the other two Death Note films. It wasn’t great, and it certainly wouldn’t stand on its own, but if you really wanted more L, it’s a fun little diversion.

Review copies of Death Note: The Last Name and Gantz: The Perfect Answer provided by New People Entertainment.

Manga the Week of 5/2

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It’s a first week of the month, which means manga, manga, manga at the list we get from Midtown Comics and not from Amazon, as I’ve mentioned a few times. (Unless you shop at my store, which Diamond is not shipping anything to next week. I’m not sure why. To spite me?) So what have we got?

DMP has a new yaoi manga called Good Morning, which seems to deal with drunken office couplings and their aftermath. At least the cover doesn’t feature one guy with his arm possessively around the other. It’s a start?

Gen manga has another collection of an indie manga story that’s been serialized in their magazine. This one, Kamen, deals with… a masked man! I know, the title really threw you off.

Kodansha has the third and (I believe) final Tokyo Mew Mew omnibus, as well as the third and not final Love Hina omnibus. And to make this week re-releases week at Koda nsha, they also have the 5th volume of dinosaur seinen masterpiece Gon.

And of course there’s Viz. As you can see, I’m dedicated to spotlighting the most exciting, dynamic covers every week. So have another week of someone gazing blankly at the reader, this time from shoujo weepie We Were There. Also hitting the shoujo shelves are new volumes of Oresama Teacher and Haruka: Beyond The Stream of Reader Comprehension… um, Time. There’s also Ai Ore 5. Can the hero stay vaguely likeable, or will he remember he’s in a Mayu Shinjo manga? There’s also new omnibuses for Hana Kimi and Skip Beat, highlighting Vols. 4-6 of both series.

On the shonen side, there’s more Jump. Tegami Bachi Letter Bee 9 (I always forget if there’s a colon somewhere in that mess). Psyren 4. One Piece 62, where the Fishman Island arc makes readers forgive Skypeia and Thriller Bark everything. (I kid. But only some.) And lastly, for the kids there’s new Fluffy Fluffy Cinnamonroll, as well as a new Pokemon Black & White.

So what appeals to you this week?

Going Digital: April 2012

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Welcome to the latest Going Digital, Manga Bookshelf’s monthly feature focusing on manga available for digital viewing or download. Each month, the Manga Bookshelf bloggers review a selection of comics we’ve read on our computers, phones, or tablet devices, to give readers a taste of what’s out there, old and new, and how well it works in digital form.

This month, MJ, Sean, and Michelle take a look at several recent JManga releases available to read in your web browser. OS and browser information is included with each review, to let you know exactly how we accessed what we read.


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Apartments of Calle Feliz | By est em | Libre Publishing Co., Ltd., Citron | JManga.com | Mac OS 10.7.3, Safari 5.1.5
“No one wants to read your sad story during a recession. You need to finish this with a happy ending.”

Still reeling from his latest breakup, these words from his editor are the last thing Luca wants to hear. “… happy ending? I’ve never experienced anything like it,” he thinks, as he lugs his scant possessions down to an apartment building at the end of the ironically-named “Calle Feliz” (“Happy Street”), where he hopes to find a vacant room. Unfortunately, the vacancy is non-existant, but the building’s landlord—a late-night DJ named Javi—offers him a couch, wi-fi, and a home-cooked meal, delivered with a pair of mournful eyes that Luca can’t bring himself to refuse. In addition, Javi offers him a solution to his creative difficulties, by suggesting that Luca write about the building’s tenants, most of whom could use some kind of happy ending.

I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with short stories, especially when they’re told through sequential art. That is to say, most of the time I hate them, except when I really, really love them. Est em’s work has generally fallen into the latter category, particularly her collection Age Called Blue, which I once referred to as “most overtly romantic” book in est em’s English-translated catalogue. Though Age Called Blue still stands as my favorite of her work so far, The Apartments of Calle Feliz gives it a run for its money in the romance department, if not in the most satisfying way.

Though the bulk of the volume consists of Luca’s observations on the building’s tenants—a man whose fear of losing his partner has (oddly) driven him to nudism, a pair of twins involved with the same man, a rather creepy puppet maker who can’t let go of his long-lost relationship with an underage lover, and (my favorite of the bunch) a transgender circus performer who finds love with the man upstairs—the book’s real love story belongs to Luca and Javi, who I wish had a lot more screen time. Don’t get me wrong. The book’s series of apartment vignettes are exactly as nuanced and intriguing as all of est em’s work. It’s just that there’s so much to explore in Luca and Javi, and though est em makes the most of the pages she gives them, it still feels as though she hasn’t done them justice. As a result, both their individual stories and their slow-building romance read as genuinely unfinished rather than typically sparse.

That said, there’s no excuse for missing out on even a single page of est em’s delicately-crafted storytelling, even as it leaves us wanting more. Recommended. – MJ

Non-chan no Tenohira, Vol. 1 | By Setsuko Kaneko | Futabasha, Jour Suteki no Shifutachi | JManga.com | Windows XP, Firefox 11.0
It is sometimes hard to read this title without thinking of With The Light, the josei manga about raising an autistic child that Yen Press put out. Both ran in magazines for housewives (Akita Shoten’s For Mrs. and Futabasha’s, which I think translates as “Jour for Beautiful Housewives’); both are clearly written from the perspective of the mother; and both deal with the difficulty that communities and family, especially in Japan, have in dealing with children with disabilities. That said, autism and Down’s Syndrome are not the same, and while With The Light had the drama starting after the child had already been born, Non-chan begins much earlier than that.

Our young couple, Kazuya and Yuki, have been married for years but still have been unable to conceive. Kazuya’s family is very much looking for a child, and the pressure is seemingly entirely on Yuki. It’s made fairly clear that her husband’ family don’t think much of her, and are blaming her for this regardless of what is being said. The joy that the couple have when Yuki finally conceives is wonderful… then a blood test comes back saying there’s a high probability the baby will have Down’s. This manga does not pull any punches, as the hospital tells Yuki this, then says “If you’re going to have an abortion, do it quickly.” As the volume goes on, we struggle with Yuki and Kazuya, as they try to decide whether to have the baby, whether to have amniocentesis that will tell them if that’s the case, and then when they finally have the child, dealing with both Down’s Syndrome as well as the continuing issues with Kazuya’s family.

I’ll be honest – this is a heavy, heavy manga. There are moments of joy and love in here, and they’re wonderful, but they’re all the more poignant because they’re surrounded by the reality of what raising this child means. There’s a lot of classism here, as Kazuya’s family is rich, while Yuki’s family was not – she’s always had to struggle for acceptance, and the birth of Noriko (Non-chan) is like a nail in the coffin. Nor is it limited to Kazuya’s family – when the baby is born, the doctor and nurses are silent,. not offering congratulations. Over and over again, the narrative fights with itself – “Your child is wrong and you are horrible” versus “Your child wanted to be born and is your child, screw those other people”. Finding the balance between the two is what makes the manga so riveting. It does, at least, lighten up towards the end of the first volume. Still – oof. JManga’s translation is overly formal and stilted at times (like many of their first Futabasha volumes), but this is still worth a read if you don’t mind the tone.-Sean Gaffney

PoyoPoyo’s Observation Diary, Vol. 1 | By Ru Tatsuki | Takeshobo, Manga Life | JManga.com | Windows 7, SeaMonkey 2.8
When a drunken young woman named Moe Sato spots a perfectly round kitty in an alley one night, she mistakes him for a pillow. Upon sobering up and realizing his felinity, she takes him home and he becomes the family pet, Poyo. PoyoPoyo’s Observation Diary is a 4-koma manga about Poyo’s life with the Sato family, which consists of his doting owner, Moe; her equally doting but incredibly strong father; and her rather unenthused younger brother, Hide.

I wanted to like this manga and, in truth, I honestly don’t dislike it. It’s just that I seldom find 4-koma manga funny, and this is no exception. Most of the humor involves Poyo (who really is genuinely cute) getting mistaken for other things, like a pumpkin or a loaf of bread, and it gets old after a while. It doesn’t help that every few pages, the concept is reiterated, and the cast reintroduced. There’s also a recurring gag about a neighbor cat who likes to mount Poyo, which is pretty bizarre, as well as a few strips that I just didn’t get at all.

The parts of the manga that I liked best were the parts that weren’t intended to be funny. I liked it when Poyo got revenge on the cat who beat up his overly affectionate friend, for example, and really adored anything about how tough and manly Papa Sato is a pushover where kitties are concerned. That’s enough to convince me to give the second volume a try whenever it materializes. – Michelle Smith

Working Kentauros | By est em | Libra Publishing, Zero Comics | JManga.com | Windows 7, SeaMonkey 2.8
I first learned about Hatarake, Kentauros! from the blog Brain Vs. Book. It sounded wonderful, but I wasn’t too optimistic about getting to read it in English. So, imagine my exuberance a couple of weeks ago when the title appeared in the “coming soon” section of JManga’s newsletter! And now that I’ve read it, I can attest that it’s every bit as wonderful as I had hoped.

Beginning from the premise that centaurs exist and that recently revised employment laws allow them to work alongside humans, est em depicts five different centaurs in their chosen careers. We begin with Kentaro, who has moved from Hokkaido to Tokyo to become a salaryman. Guided by his sempai, he meets with clients and arranges contracts whilst dealing with challenges like crowded trains and getting groped in the elevator. Next is the story of Shunta, who wants to make people happy with his soba, but is unable to fit in the kitchen at the shop where he is an apprentice. Subsequent chapters feature a centaur who wants to make shoes (despite his inability to wear them), a centaur model who is tired of the Photoshop tricks that make him appear human, and an aspiring NEET who only wants to run and be carefree.

For the most part, the stories are lighthearted and have positive outcomes. Shunta meets a human with similar goals, and they run a ramen cart together. The shoemaker’s wares are highly praised. The model comes out of the closet with the encouragement of a designer. The slacker is gently encouraged by another centaur and comes to appreciate the value of good work. But there’s a certain degree of poignancy as well, since the centaurs’ lifespan greatly exceeds that of humans. The most striking depiction of this truth can be found in the shoemaker chapter, as est em encapsulates a decades-long working relationship in a series of near-identical panels in which the human partner ages while the centaur remains unchanged. It made me sniffly, and really brought home the point that, though this may not be overt BL, the male-male relationships are deeply meaningful all the same.

Like the best speculative fiction, est em uses her offbeat “centaurs in the workplace” concept to communicate universal truths. Everyone wants to be free to be themselves, and no one wants to watch someone they love get sick and pass away. Even if they happen to be a centaur. Highly, highly recommended. – Michelle Smith

A Monthly Dose of IKKI

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 The irony this month is thick. I have been reading IKKI magazine for approximately three years and in that time I have not managed to review it. Now that my reason for reading it is gone, I finally am taking the time to review it…just before I stop getting it regularly.

In fact, part of the reason I have not been able to review it was because I was reading it monthly for a series that is unlikely to make it over here in English, but is nonetheless the best manga I have ever read. It left me emotionally spent with every issue, so I couldn’t just sit down and write about it, or the magazine.

IKKI is relatively well-known to American readers, as Viz Media has an imprint of titles specifically coming from IKKI, known as SigIKKI. These titles include Childen of the Sea (Daisuke Igarashi), Afterschool Charisma (Kumiko Suekane), Kingyo Used Books (Seimu Tsuchida), House of Five Leaves (Nastume Ono), Saturn Apartments (Hisae Iwaoka), Dorohedoro (Q Hayashida) and Bokurano Ours (Mohiro Kitoh). These have been covered by many English-language manga reviewers, so I hope you don’t mind if I skip covering them. Another title that ran in IKKI that might be familiar to the English-reading audience is Iou Kuroda’s Sexy Voice and Robo.

Less well known to western audiences are other currently running series; of note Est Em’s “Golodrina,” about a woman who is being trained to become a matador; “Sex Nyanka Kyouminai” by the team of Kizuragi Akira and Satou Nanki, Banchi Kondo’s manga about baseball “Bob to Yuukaina Nakamatachi 2010,” and the reason I read IKKI at all, “GUNJO,” by Nakamura Ching, among many, many other series.

The general feel of IKKI is not terribly light-hearted. It’s a dark magazine, with dark roots and bits of dark stories popping up all over the place. It’s so dark at times, in fact, that as one reads a relatively innocent story, like “Ai-chan” or “Stratos”, one keeps waiting for the boot to drop and something awful to happen. Post apocalyptic life and murder sit comfortably next to unstable clones and gritty tales of survival in extreme circumstances.

IKKI has a website in Japanese, with sample chapters, featured messages from the manga artists and a list of shops where current volumes are available. SigIKKI also has a website in English where there are previews and downloads available for series that are carried under the imprint. At 550 yen ($6.60 at time of writing) for about 430 pages, IKKI costs just a few cents per page of entertainment.

IKKI is undoubtedy a magazine for adult readers of comics. It’s not that there’s sex, but that the themes are more about life – survival, even – in a variety of circumstances. A fan of Dostoevsky would be comfortable with the level of instrospection and conflict in this magazine. IKKI falls solidly into my “fifth column” of manga, if only for the lack of feel-good, team-oriented heroes fighting the good fight. IKKI is the dark side of seinen, away from the guns and running along rooftops, and closer to the quite desperation of making the best of a bad situation.

IKKI from Shogakukan: http://www.ikki-para.com/index.html

 

Manga the Week of 4/25

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Well, this shouldn’t take long. There’s a tiny, tiny amount of manga out next week (from Midtown Comics, a fact I try to emphasize every week when people say “But what about X, which Amazon released this week?”). In fact, there are two titles.

Stare into this girl’s soulful gaze and try not to buy Air Gear 23, you heartless monster. (At least I hope it’s a soulful gaze. It could be drugged to the gills for all I know.) The series is ending in Japan this spring, this reducing our number of manga with surprise Obama cameos in it by one.

Then there’s Volume 12 of GTO: The Early Years, aka Shonan Jun’ai Gumi. In the recent Shonan 14 Days, Onizuka had to really do his best to avoid violence (well, until it happened anyway), noting he is supposed to be a teacher. None of that here – Onizuka may be a Yankee with a heart, but he’s still a gang leader, meaning there’s lots and lots of fights. And more fights. And still more fights. It’s fantastic.

That’s it. Given the last three weeks, I for one welcome the break (though I’m getting SJG anyway). How about you?

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes

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Ke Zhen'e uses his staff to draw a line in the ground representing the end of his relationship with Guo Jing; in the background, Guo Jing's facial expression shows great sorrow.

And now we are back in Hong Kong. Just as the first review in this series presents an adaptation of the first novel, Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn, the final review also presents an adaptation of Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn.

Example Scene

Yang Kang looks really excited about his ambitious plans.
Here, Yang Kang tells Mu Nianci what he plans to do.

Mu Nianci slaps Yang Kang across the face.
Mu Nianci expresses her opinion of Yang Kang’s plans.

Mu Nianci threatens to slit her own throat. Yang Kang grabs away the knife by the blade and grips it tightly, causing his fist to bleed.
That knife is a great metaphor for their destructive relationship. These two hurt each other a lot … and yet they hold on. Furthermore, it is Yang Kang, not Mu Nianci, who is bleeding. Ultimately, Yang Kang pays the heavier price for this romance. I am not sure whether or not that is their father’s knife (note: this is not incest; she’s adopted, he’s biological, and they didn’t even know about each other’s existence until they were teenagers) but if it is, then that makes the metaphor perfect.

Mu Nianci looks shocked. She slowly pulls the knife out of Yang Kang's hand, and looks at his bloody palm in horror.
Look at that gloriously bloody hand!

Mu Nianci throws away the bloody knife and runs out of the building. She looks like she wants to puke.
Mu Nianci runs away. But it’s too late.

About Lee Chi-Ching

Lee Chi-Ching, while lacking the stature of Tony Wong and Ma Wing-Shing, is yet another of Hong Kong’s most popular manhua artists. He has the distinction of being the first Hong Kong manhua artist to have his work published in Japanese, and to the best of my knowledge, is still the most popular manhua artist in the Japanese market. Unlike the other manhua artists who have adapted the Condor Trilogy, Lee Chi-Ching is not known for his original stories. All of his well-known works are adaptations of novels.

Art

Guo Jing says that he loves Huang Rong; Huang Rong doesn't believe him.

Even though this is also in black and white, the style is in many ways the opposite of Wee Tian Beng’s. Wee Tian Beng’s style is to use sophisticated layouts to present simple drawings. Lee Chi-Ching most of the time uses simple layouts. Panels are generally a collections of rectangular boxes, and each panel generally contains one image. Yet each image is rendered with detailed linework. This artwork is very focused on the content of the panels, not the delivery of the panels.

Guo Jing kneels and pounds his fist in a dramatic manner.

In Tony Wong’s adaptations, the fights look like acrobat shows. In Ma Wing-shing’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre, the fights look like storms. In Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes, the fights look like ballet performances. In Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes, the fights look like … fights.

Mei Chao-feng and her husband fight the Jiangnan freaks.

Even though the fights are not as full of “goodies” as the fights in the other manhua adaptations, Lee Chi-Ching knows how to find stillness in the movement of the human body—which is beautiful.

Huang Rong strikes Zhen Ke'e as he is about to kill Guo Jing.

Or some lovely shape is formed by the series of blows—but the loveliness seems incidently to the fight itself.

Huang Rong uses the Dog Staff technique on Ouyang Feng.

And when the strikes connect, they look like they hurt. It does not look like a show.

Zhen Ke'e blinds Mei Chao-feng.

One reason the fights look more painful is that, more than in any other manhua adapted from the Condor Trilogy, Lee Chi-Ching’s drawings focus on the characters. The simplicity of compositions make the characters stand out that much more. When they hurt, the reader knows.

Ouyang Feng sees Ouyang Ke in pain.

Yin Gu thinks about her infant son, which is a very painful memory.

Outside of the fights, there are many panels in which the characters strike a pose that sticks in my mind. For example, this one:

Huang Yaoshi and Hong Qigong stand.

I like how Hong Qigong’s body is open and facing the reader, with his feet spread apart to show power, and how Huang Yaoshi is facing the side, his eyes away from the reader, with his feet in turnout showing that he too can stand his ground—it really fits both of their personalities. Both of their stances convey that they both are experts at using their own bodies—not to mention the clothes. The way Huang Yaoshi’s cape is draped looks quite nice. The the strap of Hong Qigong’s gunnysack matches the diagonal lines formed by the fold in his coat, and the belt adds a good horizontal line to tie it together.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong look happy - and his hairtie looks lovely.

Speaking of clothes, I really like Guo Jing’s hair-tie, especially how it swishes about throughout the manhua. Generally, I think this manhua adapation has the most fashion sense.

And the tears. Lots of tears.

Yang Kang cries.

The artwork does not seem to force the drama. It simply lets the tears flow when the characters feel the need to cry.

Huang Rong cries.

Of course, in this story, practically every other page has a character who feels like crying.

Guo Jing cries in a scary way.

While the compositions are generally simple, they can be quite powerful, such as in this page:

Mu Nianci and Bo Xiruo run to Yang Tiexin and he thrusts a spear into his own belly.

This is a really focused picture. The woman’s arms form a nice parallel with the horizontal line of the man’s body. The vertical lines of the girl and the spear also form a nice parallel and, in turn, point (along with the diagonal lines of the man’s legs) at the main focus of the drawing—the man’s belly. Notice that this picture follows the rule of thirds—the man’s belly is about a third of the way up from the bottom-right of the drawing. The lines formed by the girl and woman’s tears point at their eyes, and the gaze of the eyes are, of course, also pointed at the man’s belly. And of course, inside the man’s belly is a spear-head.

After going through that scene again, I’m the one who now feels like crying…

And there’s this spread:

Guo Jing and Tolui ride towards each other on horseback.

Notice on each page, there are three main elements which for three points of a triangle—a long-distance shot of the character in profile on horseback showing the distance between the two characters, a close-up of the character on the horse in motion facing front, and a close-up of the character’s face. Then the two pages mirror each other. Even the dialogue is mirrored:

Tolui: Guo Jing-anda, how are you?
Guo Jing: Tolui-anda, so it’s you?

Anda means “sworn-brother” in Mongolian—and in traditional Mongolian culture, sworn-brothers were considered closer to each other than biological brothers. I think Lee Chi-Ching’s drawings show how these two anda feel compelled to do what they think is right, even though that means fighting each other.

Tolui deliberates about what to do as Guo Jing prepares to sneak into the tent, intending to kill Tolui. In the center, their are flashbacks to their childhood.

Lee Chi-Ching mirrors these two anda again, this time in a V shape with their childhood memories inside the V while their hostile intentions forms the shape of the V itself. Lee Chi-Ching rarely uses a composition this complex, but he certainly chooses the right moment for it.

And Lee Chi-Ching mirrors the two anda yet again.

A split view of Tolui and Guo Jing's faces, combined as one face.

In short, out of all of the manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy, the artwork in Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes does the best job of illustrating the humanity of the story.

Adaptation

This is the least abridged manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy. Yes, some details get left out. Yes, there are some changes too—some of which annoy me. On the other hand, the scene I used to open this review is not in the original novel, yet it is so wonderful (are there any other comics where somebody holds a knife by the blade in order to prove a point?) that, for me, it compensates for the changes to the story that I do not like.

There are scenes which, while decently rendered in this adaptation, fail to capture the magic of the novel. For example, while the scene where Huang Rong meets Guo Jing by the lake is one of my favourites in the novel, in this adaptation it feels like nothing special.

And there are scenes where seeing it instead of reading it, in my opinion, makes the impact more visceral. For example, the flock of crows shock me more in this adaptation than in the novel.

This manhua is by far the longest of any adapted from the Condor Trilogy, but each page only covers a little plot. The low plot-to-page ratio means that the pages go by very quickly. It grants Lee Chi-Ching plenty of room to show, not tell, the story. I wish Ma Wing-Shing had done this in his The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre.

Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes is very much about the characters. This adaptation puts the least emphasis in fights of all the manhua adaptations—they generally seem to be there to connect the story together rather than being ends in their own right. Thus, they are relatively short. On the other hand, many pages get spent on the key dramatic moments so the reader can really sink into them. This manhua sets up the roller-coaster of the characters excitement, glee, anger, sorrow, pain, and joy—and it is a hell of a ride.

Much more than any other manhua adaptation of the trilogy, this one gripped me by the heartstrings. Going through it again while preparing this review just reminds me why I love it so much. Each time I go through it, I find many wonderful little bits I had not noticed before.

Availability

This manhua is totally unavailable in English. Much as I want this situation to change, considering the financial realities, I am not holding my breath. It has been published in Japanese, though I do not know how to get a hold of a Japanese-language copy.

Anyone who wishes to read this in Chinese should try to get one of the Taiwan editions instead of the Hong Kong editions—the Taiwan editions come in a bigger page size, which serves the detailed artwork very well. That said, even in Taiwan, it’s easier to get the Hong Kong editions than the Taiwan editions. The Taiwan editions are all out of print, whereas this manhua has been reprinted in Hong Kong as recently as 2010. The fact that this is the only manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy which is being kept in print demonstrates its enduring popularity.

Conclusion

I have been reading comics since I was four years old. While there were years when I was sticking to re-reads and not trying any new comics, it still adds up to having read quite a few comics in my lifetime. If I were to make a list right now of my favourite comics—in any language, from any country—Lee Chi-Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes would find a place in the top 10.

Guo Jing and Huang Rong embrace in the mountains.

Discussion Question:
What did you think of this series of blog posts? What did I do well? What could be improved? Would you be interested in reading more posts about wuxia, manhua, or Chinese-language pop culture in general?

Sara K. would like to register her astonishment at the ignorance of Chinese-language pop culture among non-Asians who are studying Chinese. There are many non-Asians who are studying Chinese who have never heard of the Condor Trilogy. Sara K. mostly blames their teachers—language teachers need to introduce students to the culture, not just the language itself—though she also thinks that the students could be a bit more active about researching Chinese-language pop culture themselves. One of the reasons she wrote this series of blog posts is to help non-Asians who are studying Chinese to find something to read in Chinese, or at least find inspiration. She is currently working on some guest posts for Hacking Chinese, which might even be interesting to people who are not studying Chinese. Her own personal blog is The Notes Which Do Not Fit, though there is little about comics or Asian culture over there.

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Return of the Condor Heroes

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The cover of Volume 15 of Return of the Condor Heroes, featuring Guo Xiang and Yang Guo.

Let’s leave Hong Kong for a post to visit Singapore. A peek at this manhua was already presented in an earlier post: The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting.

Singapore’s most commercially successful manhua artist by far is Wee Tian Beng. He was the first Sigaporean manhua artist to achieve success in the Hong Kong and Taiwan markets. Wee Tian Beng is best known for The Celestial Zone and its sequels, but before Wee Tian Beng made The Celestial Zone, he adapted Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ, using ‘Return of the Condor Heroes’ as the official English title. In 1997 this adaptation won the “Asian Manga Prestigious Award” at the Asian Manga Summit held in Seoul, South Korea.

Art

Hong Qigong teaches Yang Guo some of the Dog Staff technique.

Compared to Hong Kong manhua, Wee Tian Beng’s drawings look simple and cartoonish. I admit that at first that turned me off. However, as I read more and more, it dawned on me that the artwork is quite rich. Sure, the artwork does not have the intricate line-work characteristic of Hong Kong wuxia manhua … but there is such variety in the way Wee Tian Beng draws the story.

Hong Qigong and Ouyang Feng watch Yang Guo training.

For example, there are many sequences showing a series of graceful motions by the characters. Indeed, I think Return of the Condor Heroes has the most graceful movement of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua – Hong Kong manhua tends to have characters move in a more BLAM! manner.

A drawing of Yang Guo in which his right side is done in negative shading.

There are many panels which play with light and shadow, particularly shadow.

Xiaolongnu weeps over a sleeping Yang Guo.

It's because of moments like this that I think that Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ is the most shojo-like novel in the Condor Trilogy. When he wakes up, even though his face is still wet from her tears, there is already no trace of her current wheareabouts.

And of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua, Return of the Condor Heroes is the most cinematic. Often there will be a series of panels, or even pages, without dialogue or fancy composition—just simple still shots.

We see a beautiful songbird as Yang Guo rides through the countryside.

Speaking of cinema, Return of the Condor Heroes is the manhua which puts the most emphasis on natural scenery. Like westerns in the United States, wuxia movies and TV shows sometimes put a lot of emphasis on beautiful scenery. Something about human nature must make people enjoy watching fighters beat the living daylights out of each other in gorgeous settings. Heck, I first became interested in wuxia because it features people beating the living daylights out of each other while wearing beautiful clothes—I only came to appreciate other aspects (the story, for example) later.

NOTE: While all other manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy are read from right-to-left, Return of the Condor Heroes is read from left-to-right.

A close-up drawing of some water birds.

The water birds in flight.

As the water birds fly in the background, Yang Guo wanders the countryside, longing for Xiaolongnu.

All of the Condor Trilogy manhua show some of the naturally beautiful settings. Even The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre occasionally has a nice page or two showing the lovely scenery. But Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes not only has many panels of lofty mountains, verdant forests, and scenic rivers, it also shows quite a bit of the wildlife too. While Tony Wong’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes is the adaptation to look to if you want luxurious palaces, Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes is definitely the scenic route.

Wee Tian Beng’s drawings also renders the characters in a more subtle manner than Tony Wong and Ma Wing-shing. For example, I really like the way that Wee Tian Beng draws Guo Xiang.

A picture of Guo Xiang with a variety of beasts behind her.

His drawings capture how she is curious, clever, mischievous, and naïve at the same time—in other words, how she is just like many other teenage girls.

While at first I did not care for the way he draws Xiaolongnü, his depiction of her grew on me.

Xiaolongnu is conflicted as she fights Gongsun Zhi.

Wee Tian Beng conveys how cold Xiaolongnü is while offering glimpses of the feelings she has deep down. That’s hard to pull off, and something that I do not think Tony Wong really succeeded at. While I haven’t seen any of the TV/film adaptations of the Condor Trilogy, I think that Xiaolongnü would be the most challenging role for an actor to play in the entire trilogy.

So, in spite of a bad first impression, the art definitely won me over.

Yang Guo catches a knife with his mouth.

Did Yang Guo just yank away that knife with his mouth? THAT IS SO COOL!

Adaptation

Wee Tian Beng botched the depiction of Yang Guo’s childhood. He shows Yang Guo as a mischievous young boy—fair enough, Yang Guo is a mischievous boy. Yang Guo’s childish exploits are shown in a humorous light—fair enough, some of them are humorous. Wee Tian Beng also shows some of the bullying … but … but the bullying is also shown in a humorous light, which is definitely not how it reads in the original novel. Wee Tian Beng also fails to show the true extent of the bullying. And no where in the manhua is it shown, or even said, that Yang Guo was wandering around China, homeless, without any relatives or friends, surviving by any means necessary … when he was just eleven years old. Plotwise, is that detail important? No, not really. Is that detail important for Yang Guo’s character development. Oh hell yes it is.

The reader needs to feel Yang Guo’s pain to have the fullest experience of the story. As Todd Brown succinctly put it in his review of the 1983 TV series, Yang Guo “has been repeatedly abandoned and abused by the adults in his life, leaving him both desperate for approval and deeply distrustful.” While I do not enjoy reading about Yang Guo being bullied, abused, and neglected, it is a necessary foundation for everything that is done with Yang Guo’s character later. I love reading about teenage Yang Guo kicking everybody’s ass because I know how much he suffered as a boy. Without that suffering …. I care a lot less about Yang Guo.

Furthermore, Wee Tian Beng also messed up the scene which made me fall in love with Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ. Specifically, the first fight with Li Mochou in the Tomb of Living Death. I cannot get into details without spoilers, so let’s just say that I love the scene because it feels like it was ripped straight from a fairy tale, spiked with the kind of melodrama found in classic shoujo manga. First of all, Wee Tian Beng completely takes out the buildup to the fight. That is not horrible, but it does make things seem rather sudden. But—and this is what really bothers me—he also took the most dramatic, fairy-talish moment out. That just killed the scene for me.

So, between the way Yang Guo’s childhood was (not) shown and what it did to one of my favourite scenes, I was set to hate this adaptation.

Then, about a third of the way through, this manhua started being a lot more faithful to the novel. It started to include many of the things which The Legendary Couple left out, including some of the subtle little details. Of course, the subtler details matches the subtler art. And I found myself sucked back into the story again. I relived the experience of the novel, but I think even if I had not read the novel, this manhua would have still sucked me in.

For example, I think that this adaptation did another one of my favourite scenes—the trip Guo Jing and Yang Guo make to the Mongol camp—better than The Legendary Couple. Generally, I felt that The Legendary Couple gave the relationship between Guo Jing and Yang Guo short shrift, but because it glosses over it rather than actively butchers it, it did not bother me as much as what Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes did to the first fight in the Tomb of Living Death. Yet … this is one of those scenes where Yang Guo’s childhood suffering is very relevant. I love this scene because, in the novel, the suspense and the intensity made my heart leap into my throat. However, cutting back on Yang Guo’s childhood cuts the suspense and intensity of this scene, so while I appreciate Wee Tian Beng giving this scene a fuller treatment that Tony Wong, I cannot say “well done.”

Overall, this manhua is quite good at capturing the quiet melancholy of the story, as well has having the richest versions of the characters of any of the manhua reviewed thus far. And the melancholy is quite beautiful.

But.

While the story certainly has plenty of subtlety and quiet melancholy, some parts have all of the subtlely of a sword pierced through the chest (wrong novel, I know). While The Legendary Couple was not subtle, it could pierce. I don’t think Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes ever manages to be sufficiently sharp during those moments. Three examples:

Example 1: There is a scene where a father threatens to cut off his daughter’s arm. In The Legendary Couple, there is a full-page panel dedicated to this moment, highlighting the father’s intent and the daughter’s terror. In Wee Tian Being’s Return of the Condor Heroes, this moment is not shown as being particularly special. I actually like the way he draws the father’s calm resolve, however the daughter does not seem to be really terrified.

Example 2: (WARNING: if discussion of sexual assault triggers you, skip to Example 3) There is a rape scene. Here is what I was thinking when I read the rape scene in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes:

“She looks so lovely and vulnerable … that’s a nice use of shadow … what a beautiful night, with the stars and the trees.”

This is what I was thinking when I read the rape scene in The Legendary Couple:

“No, not this scene again. Maybe I should skip it … [shudder] the clothes have come off … no! Stop! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! DO NOT DO IT!!!!!!!!!!”

I will let you draw your own conclusions about which manhua evoked a more appropriate response to the rape scene.

Example 3: At one point in the story, a character’s hair turns white in the course of a single night.

In The Legendary Couple, it looks like this.

Yang Guo is weeping, on top of a cliff, with his cape swirling, and his hair all white.

This is the same moment in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes.

Yang Guo looks down from the mountain, and then sees his reflection in the water - his hair has gone white.

Some people might prefer Wee Tian Beng’s quieter interpretation, but I think that if somebody has experienced something so horrible that his hair turns white in one night, exclamation points are called for. Generally, I feel that The Legendary Couple was much better at punching out the exclamation points.

Availability

Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes is the only manhua adaptation of the Condor Trilogy which has been completely published in English. The publisher claims to still have the English-language edition for sale, but I have not personally confirmed this.

To the best of my knowledge, all Chinese language editions, both simplified and traditional characters, are out of print, but I can testify that it is still fairly easy to get the Taiwanese (traditional characters) edition, at least in Taiwan.

Conclusion

Ultimately, I think this manhua has more to offer than The Legendary Couple. I must find time to read The Celestial Zone some day. Yet I find The Legendary Couple flashing in my mind far more often than Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes. While it is less admirable, The Legendary Couple made a deeper impression on me.

Because of the problems with the first part of this manhua, I do not recommend making this one’s first contact with Shēn Diāo Xiá Lǚ.

What I highly recommend for lovers of Asian comics is reading the seven ComicsOne volumes of The Legendary Couple first, and then proceed to read this. That is a nearly ideal manhua experience—ComicsOne edition cuts off right around the point Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes starts being better than The Legendary Couple, and readers can experience both interpretations of the story.

Of course, if you can, you really should read the novel. While both of the manhua adaptations are fine, neither can match the experience of the original.

Discussion Question:

Which do you think you would prefer, The Legendary Couple or Return of the Condor Heroes?

Sara K. loves dancing. She has taken ballet, swing, modern, jazz, Afro-Haitian, and noh dance classes. However, the dance of her dreams is tap dance. Of course, she thinks Swan is fantastic, and she also appreciates the way the characters in Wee Tian Beng’s Return of the Condor Heroes look like they are dancing.

Manga the Week of 4/18

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Man, April has been a very busy month for manga. Let’s see what’s hitting stores this week. It’s a lot.

Dark Horse, a company that’s cut back on manga in recent years, has three whole new books out! There’s Vol. 22 of popular violence ‘n service title Gantz. Vol. 41 of Oh My Goddess!, which is not known for its violence or fanservice. Well, not the kind of service Gantz offers, anyway. And after 7 years, we see Vol. 2 of The Monkey King, another adaptation of the famous story by Vampire Hunter D artist Katsuya Terada that ran in Shueisha’s Ultra Jump.

From Kodansha, we get Vol. 5 of their two newest Shonen Magazine titles. Thriller Bloody Monday (which reminds me of 24), and mystery Cage of Eden (which reminds me of Lost, only with far more shots of breasts drawn in loving close-up).

Seven Seas gives us two volumes that many folks got today from Diamond – for once, it’s Midtown being a week late. Blood Alone Vol. 6 has vampires in it. And Toradora Vol. 4 has tsunderes in it. It’s arguable which creature might be more scary to the average person…

Udon offers us Vol. 1 of a manga I know absolutely nothing about, Captain Commando. It seems to be some sort of superhero thing. And is apparently not from Japan, but original to this publisher? I guess? Looks interesting, at any rate.

Viz’s third week is usually its most interesting. We see Vol. 6 of my favorite Ikki title Dorohedoro; Vol. 6 of the Tenjo Tenge omnibus; and Vol. 2 of the X reprint, which should look gorgeous if nothing else. And apocalyptic.

Lastly, Yen has a giant pile of releases. New Betrayal Knows My Name. New Black Butler. New Black God. And that’s just the B’s! There’s also the 2nd Durarara!! manga, which should finally give us some Shizuo; a 6th volume of Zombie massacre title High School of the Dead; and the final volume of Higurashi’s latest arc, the Atonement Arc. After this we take a 5-month break before the next arc begins, so enjoy Higurashi now for the summer months!

So what are you getting out of that large pile of manga?

The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: The Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre

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A cover illustration showing a number of the Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre characters inside the Dragon Sabre.

This is part four in a series of posts about the Condor Trilogy in Manhua. The previous posts are Introduction, Fighting, Tony Wong’s The Eagle-Shooting Heroes, and The Legendary Couple.

This manhua is by Ma Wing-shing, who is Hong Kong’s next most significant wuxia manhua artist after Tony Wong.

Whereas the other novels in the trilogy have been adapted multiple times into manhua, this is the only manhua adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì. Poor Zhang Wuji, nobody loves him. Well, maybe my friend loves him. She kept on asking me what I thought about him as I read the novel (“Isn’t he wonderful?” “Ummm, he’s still twelve years old” “Just wait until he becomes a man!”)

Speaking of Zhang Wuji and female attention, let’s check out his wedding.

Example Scene:

Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo are staring at each other while they are wearing traditional Chinese wedding clothes.
The young couple is getting married. And they love each other. They really do. This must be a happy scene where nothing goes wrong…

Zhao Min, a Mongol Princess, crashes the wedding.
… aside from a Mongolian princess barging in.

Zhao Min tells Zhang Wuji to call off the wedding.
The Mongolian princess asks the groom to jilt the bride. The groom says that if he did that, he would be a jerk.

Zhao Min changes Zhang Wuji's mind with whatever is in her hand (not shown to the reader).
The Mongolian princess seems to have something in her hand. Whatever it is, it makes the Chinese groom change his tune.

Zhou Zhiruo sees that Zhang Wuji might actually call off the wedding, and looks worried.
Hey, Chinese people bride, it’s time to PROTECT YOUR COUNTRY MAN FROM THE MONGOL INVASION PRINCESSS!

Zhao Zhiruo starts to attack Zhao Min.
Go Chinese people bride, go!

Zhou Zhiruo attacks Zhao Min in a major way.
*sigh* Bride, you’re not going to score any points if you beat up a helpless princess who … poisoned and kidnapped a bunch of the world’s most powerful martial artists … is the best schemer in the story … can get Zhang Wuji to crack a joke (before the Mongol princess showed up, I was under the impression that Zhang Wuji didn’t have a sense a humor) … okay, bride, if you take down the princess, you score ALL the points.

Zhang Wuji defends Zhao Min.
Given a choice between a Mongol princess who is trying to ruin his wedding and previously tried to kill him and his companions, and a woman that he loves and wants to marry, the groom is of course siding with the Mongol princess.

Zhang Wuji and Zhou Zhiruo get into a kung fu fight.
You know, I think most weddings would be improved if the bride and groom decided to break out into a kung-fu match in the midst of the ceremony. Too bad that this couple seems to be fighting for real.

Zhou Zhiruo smashes her phoenix-bridal crown.
Apparently the wedding is now messed up beyond all repair.

Zhang Wuji runs after Zhao Min as she flees the wedding.
Game over. Mongol empire princess: 1; Chinese people bride: 0.

Adaptation

The manhua is paced very differently from the novel. Even though this manhua is 25 volumes long (Taiwan edition), the first 75% of the novel gets covered in the first 5 volumes, though some of the early scenes in the novel appear later in the manhua as flashbacks. Considering that the first half of the novel is about as brisk as rush hour traffic, this is not exactly a bad thing. Even so, the sheer speed did make me a little dizzy. The last three chapters of the novel, however, are covered in about 6 volumes, which allows much more room for nuance. While I will not say that the last three chapters are the best three chapters, the last fourth of the novel is certainly the best part, so I cannot exactly argue with this either.

However, while the pacing of the manhua is completely different from the novel, the plot is pretty much the same. Like every other adaptation of the Condor Trilogy, some details are left out. Yes, some of the moments which are missing are my personal favorites, but that’s always going to happen and I can always re-read the novels if I so wish.

Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì has less humor than the other parts of the trilogy, but whatever humor the story has, this manhua manages to kill it. For example, the socks scene is utterly serious—and I don’t mean that it is done deadpan style. It simply is not funny in the manhua. The only humor in this manhua is unintentional—such as the wedding scene described above (to be fair, I thought the wedding scene was quite funny in the original novel too, and I do not think that was Jin Yong’s intent).

The manhua is based on the second edition of the novel and has the second-edition ending (different editions have different endings). I also happened to read the second edition of the novel. My first reaction to the ending of the novel was “what the [expletive]!” and then I chose to be amused. Ma Wing-shing has a very different take on the second-edition ending—he presents it as being creepy and scary. (Which just goes to show how open-ended the second edition ending is.) Whereas I took the most light-hearted interpretation possible, Ma Wing-shing took the darkest interpretation possible. The line between comedy and tragedy can be quite fine.

Generally, out of all of the Condor Trilogy manhua, this was the hardest one for me to get involved in the story. There were points when I got involved, but it felt like I was recalling how a given scene made me feel in the original novel rather than re-experiencing the scene anew. I think this is mainly an art issue, because aside from the pacing, timing, and some simplifications, the dialogue and the plot of the manhua are not that different from the novel.

Artwork

An illustration showing the backstory of the Persian Ming cult and its female leader, using purple dragons as visual flourishes.

Ma has a more gritty-realistic style than Tony Wong. Though he can use an abundance of flourishes when he wishes, they do not have the eye-candy feel of Tony Wong’s visual flourishes. While the characters in Tony Wong’s manhua often seem to have a light spring to their steps, Ma’s characters move in a more grounded manner. Overall, where Tony Wong’s art expresses exuberance, Ma’s art expresses restraint—a restraint which sometimes bursts into an explosion of glory. And to be honest, I have trouble imagining a Tong Wong adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì. While Tony Wong expresses excitement—whether of joy or angst—quite well, he is not so adept at expressing solemn, heavy feelings. Thus, I feel that the right artists were chosen for the right adaptations.

An illustration of a scene which, in spite of being a fight/soap opera scene, is full of talking heads.

Because the manhua tries to cover the first three-fourths of the novel so quickly, the art is in rapid plot-exposition mode—which means there are a lot of talking heads. In the hands of an artist who is great at drawing talking heads, that would be sweet. Ma Wing-shing is not that kind of artist. Not only do the characters constantly seem to be wearing the same stoic expression, but they often look just like each other. I think that depicting the characters as constantly having a stoic expression is an interesting way to interpret Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì—but when you’re mostly seeing talking heads, it looks really monotonous.

Zhang Wuji is thinking about a certain Mongol Princess.

This moment is supposed to be full of feeling, but because the faces look just the same as they do in pretty much every other moment, I find it hard to feel the feeling.

However, while Ma is not good at expressing character through face or body, he can express the character’s inner life through composition, color, and motion.

The Ming Cult thinks about the death of one of their leaders.

For example, you can tell by the blues, the rain, the way the figure’s back is turned as his body fades into the storm, that this a sad, solemn moment.

A nice set of pictures of Zhang Sanfeng.

But to express things through composition and color, one needs a high-page-to-plot ratio. Such a ratio does not exist in the first half in the manhua. There were flashes of Ma’s visual genius, even in the first half, but they were quickly buried in a sea of talking heads.

Zhang Wuji sees an injured Yin Liting.

But when the page-to-plot ratio goes up? Ma demonstrates why he is one of Hong Kong’s most celebrated manhua artists. The last 8 or so volumes are GORGEOUS. When I say they are gorgeous, I mean they are full of pages like this (click to see them in larger size):

The Yellow Dress Maiden fights Zhou Zhiruo.

And this:

Xie Xun fights Cheng Kun in grand style.

And this:

Zhou Zhiruo thinks she is being pursued by the ghost of Yin Li.

I am tempted to say that if Ma had expanded this story over more pages, the entire manhua could have been visually amazing. But I suspect Ma needed to be inspired to show his true capabilities, and that the first part of the story did not inspire him.

Please forgive my poor digital camera – it does not do the artwork justice.

More Thoughts on the Adaptation

This is my least favourite of the manhua adaptations of the Condor Trilogy.

The last fourth of the original novel kept my jaw fixed in a state of drop until it was over. When the manhua adaptation made my jaw drop, it was always because the art was stunning, not because the story swept me up again.

Perhaps the art and the story failed to connect because there was no focus. I would have been happy to read a manhua adaptation of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì which threw the story to hell and focused on fantastic fight scenes—and I think Ma could have delivered such a version. I might also enjoy a manhua adaptation which focuses on the romance—as one can probably tell by my commentary on the wedding scene, I would have a lot of fun with that version.

The manhua adaptation I would really like to see is one which delved into the commentary on society and politics. Hong Kong wuxia manhua uses plenty of visual metaphors and flourishes to flesh out the battles. Why not use those visual metaphors and flourishes to flesh out the socio-political allegory? Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì would be the perfect story for this treatment. The title literally means “Relying on Heaven to Kill the Dragon Tale” and is usually interpreted to mean that when the emperor (dragon) is bad, the people who support justice (heaven) will remove him. And there are two blades—the Heaven Sword and the Dragon Sabre—which carry this metaphor throughout the story. Why not build on that? I think sequential art is the perfect medium for examining this side of the story. Alas, this manhua does not try to go there and mostly takes the story at face value.

And I think that might be the thing. This adaptation sticks too close to the surface. It is reasonably faithful to the letter of the story—more so than the Tony Wong adaptations. But it does not try to dig into any aspect of the story—not the battles, not the romance, not the camaraderie, not the social commentary, not the tragedy, and so forth. I already know the story, so I am not terribly interested in a shallow overview.

Availability in English

11 volumes of this manhua were published in English by ComicOne. They are out of print, and seem a little harder/more expensive to get than The Legendary Couple, but are apparently not too difficult to acquire. I do not know how the ComicOne volumes correspond to the Taiwan edition. Having only read the Taiwan edition, I also cannot comment on the translation.

To continue the story in English, Chu Yuan’s The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre Part 1 & 2 (1978), The New Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre (1986), and The Heaven Sword and Dragon Sabre (2009) are all available on DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

I think the only people who should read the ComicOne edition are people who really want to experience the story of Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì in a printed medium and cannot read the novel. It is actually not a terrible adaptation, and can give one a sense of the story, even though it cannot replace the experience of reading the novel.

Everyone else—Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì fans, Ma Wing-shing fans, and so forth, should go straight to one of the Chinese-language editions, regardless of one’s Chinese reading ability or lack thereof. If one wishes to invest money in this manhua, there is no reason to deny oneself the splendor of the late volumes.

Speaking of gorgeous art, the question is:

Whose art style do you prefer, Tony Wong’s or Ma Wing-shing’s?

Sara K. has tried martial arts herself. She has taken kickboxing and Tai Chi (Chen style) classes, and has gone up to green belt in Tae Kwon Do. She is slow and her arms are weak. She is flexible, has a good sense of balance, and has powerful legs. If she found herself in hand-to-hand combat, she would use her arms mostly for defense and use her legs mostly for offense. Her bones have an unusual structure, which means that certain arm twists which work on most people do not work on her (and would offer her an excellent opportunity to send her opponent a surprise elbow jab), however her unusual bone structure also makes her more prone to injuries in general. If she were to study a new martial art, she would choose archery.

Comic Conversion: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

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The Wonderful Wizard of Oz| Novel: L. Frank Baum / W. W. Norton Norton & Company | Graphic Novel: Eric Shanower and Skottie Young / Marvel Comics

When Dorothy’s dog, Toto, hides under a bed during a twister, she follows in an attempt to save him. As a result, both are trapped in the house as it’s carried away by the storm. Dorothy wakes up to find herself in a new land, and discovers that she has just killed a Wicked Witch. She’s a hero to the Munchkins, but Dorothy only wants to go home—and the only person who can help her do that is the Wizard of Oz. As she travels to see the wizard she meets a talking scarecrow, a man made of tin, and a lion who’s afraid of everything, but when they reach the end of the road will they all be able to get what they wish for?

L. Frank Baum published the first Oz book in 1900, and it became a success almost immediately. He went on to write 13 more novels in the series, and even produced a stage adaptation of the original book. And we all know that Oz has inspired movies, including one written and directed by Baum and, even more famously, the MGM movie starring Judy Garland.

It’s safe to say that The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is universally recognized as a classic novel and a staple of American culture, but Baum’s great aspiration was simply to create an enjoyable story for children: “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz … aspires to being a modernized fairy tale, in which the wonderment and joy are retained and the heart-aches and nightmares are left out.” And that’s just what Baum created. With simple—but still lovely—language, Baum has carried generations of children through his rich, fantastical world full of characters that are entertaining as well as deep and real.

Baum’s story is pretty straightforward, but Dorothy and her friends experience a number of adventures both before and after they meet the Wizard (certainly many more than in the MGM film). Shanower and Young manage to find a way to fit all the adventures from Baum’s novel into the comic—but that’s not necessarily a good thing. Dorothy’s three friends are given more room to expand as characters in the side adventures, but in context of the comic, these feel like wasted time. Bits like the Lion jumping a gorge feel unnecessary, taking up little enough time to seem unimportant, but enough page space to disrupt the flow.

The comic also fails to escape the problem of using too much of the book’s original narration. Much of it is helpful for establishing the setting, but sometimes the narrative is contradictory to the illustrations, such as when Dorothy and the Scarecrow are described as walking through a “dismal country” while the art shows a bright, friendly-looking forest. Luckily the comic doesn’t rely as heavily on the narration as other, less well-crafted adaptations, such as when we first see Dorothy’s home in Kansas. Baum aptly describes the monotony of the scenery in the original novel: “Dorothy … could see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side … The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass … Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color …” As imagistic as that prose is, Shanower wisely chooses not to put any of the description in his novel. Instead, Young and colorist Jean-Francois Beaulieu give us a sweeping view of the gray plains with Dorothy in her pink dress as the only spot of color.

The art works in favor of the characters as well. Adding his own touches, like a mustache on the Tin Woodman, Young inserts his own vision into the designs rather than simply copying Denslow’s original art or redrawing the actors from the movie. The personality Baum gave his characters shines through, like his roly-poly lion and his viciously cruel Wicked Witch. Young’s illustrations also increase the intensity in some scenes, such as one in which the Scarecrow and Tin Woodman fend off the Wicked Witch’s beasts. Wolves are given bright red eyes, and we see the sketchy shadows of their heads flying as the Woodman chops them apart. A silhouette of the Scarecrow snatches descending crows and crushes their necks.

It seems almost impossible to escape the over-narration problem with comic adaptations, at least those of classic novels, but Shanower manages to reduce it enough so that you’re not constantly wincing at artwork clogged with text. Shanower may have also kept a few too many of the off-shooting scenes, but he does offer those with no Oz experience outside the MGM movie a glimpse of the true depths of Baum’s characters. Young’s art is what really makes this adaptation worthwhile. His illustrations enhance the whimsical fairy tale feel of the original book, giving the comic its own life and a leg to stand on amongst the many adaptations Baum’s work inspired. Baum’s book is a classic that all fans of children’s literature should read at some point (I’m ashamed to say I didn’t read it until adulthood), but Shanower and Young’s adaptation is still a fine means for jumping into the world of Oz.

Have any graphic novel adaptations you think do a good job? Or a comic you want me to check out for you? Leave suggestions for future columns in the comments!