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3 Things Thursday: Please Save My Earth

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Given that I spent the past week pretty much fully immersed in a re-read of all 21 volumes of Saki Hiwatari’s Please Save My Earth (followed by a full three days’ discussion and editing of same), it should be no surprise that I’ve got PSME on the brain.

And so, for this week’s 3 things Thursday, I give you…

3 reasons to re-read Please Save My Earth:

1. Alice Sakaguchi – Considering the way I felt about her the first time I read the series, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I am. Alice Sakaguchi kicks ass. No, seriously, she does. Is she restless & feisty, making her mark everywhere she goes? No. Does she have a quick temper? No. Does she confront her enemies with anger, telling them where to shove it? Definitely not. But she’s far from passive and definitely not dumb, accusations I might have hastily hurled at her when I first read the series. What she actually is, is thoughtful, compassionate, careful, and mature, and the only one of the kids in the series who will not let herself be controlled by the person she used to be. If you’re like me, and you originally read Alice as passive, I urge you to read the series again. I was stunned by my experience, and perhaps you will be too!

2. Humor – Though it’s easy to remember the series’ most dramatic moments, the biggest surprise waiting for me as I began my re-read was just how damn funny the Hiwatari can be. It’s a rare author who can genuinely pull off occasional remarks made to the audience (even some of the asides in Paradise Kiss make me cringe), and Hiwatari does this beautifully. I laughed out loud numerous times during the first volume, and that’s not even counting my delight over the artwork depicting Rin Kobayashi’s prowess with rhythmic gymnastics. Priceless, truly.

3. Art, art, and more art – Saki Hiwatari is a gorgeous artist, obviously influenced by the 49ers (among others), but very talented in her own right. Every panel in this series is wonderfully crafted, clear and expressive, regardless of tone. Drama, humor, romance, she draws it all, and she draws it well. This isn’t just pretty artwork, it’s powerful visual storytelling that gets better and better with each volume. It was difficult to stop scanning pages for our HU piece, because I found myself wanting to display everything, that’s how well the art in the series works for me. I found this a lot easier to appreciate on a more leisurely second read.

Yeah, I’ve got PSME on the brain, and I’m definitely proselytizing at this point, but that’s kinda what I love about manga, my friends. It makes me want to share.

So, readers… why would you re-read Please Save My Earth? Or why might you read it for the first time?

Please Save My Earth at The Hooded Utilitarian

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For our second joint venture at The Hooded Utilitarian, MJ and I take a look at the sci-fi shoujo classic, Please Save My Earth.

Summarizing a series this long is a daunting undertaking, but MJdoes an admirable job:

“Please Save My Earth is a 21-volume soft sci-fi epic about seven Japanese children (six teenagers and one elementary school student) who discover that they are the reincarnations of a group of alien scientists who once studied the Earth from a remote base on the Moon. Their discovery is made through a series of shared dreams, in which the children re-experience their past lives, including the destruction of their home planet and their eventual deaths from an unknown illness that spread rapidly through the group during their final days. Now reborn on earth, the children seek each other out, burdened with unfinished business from their past lives while simultaneously struggling with the present.”

To check out the rest of our conversation, which touches upon the series’ themes, characters, humor, and artwork, please visit The Hooded Utilitarian.

The Josei Alphabet: M

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“M” is for…

Marginal, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Flower, five volumes. In what sounds like Hagio in her classic speculative-fiction mode, she tells the tale of an Earth that’s faced a cataclysm that left only one woman and an average lifespan of 30 for the men. If Hagio’s name is listed after “By,” I want it.

Mesh, written and illustrated by Moto Hagio, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Flower, seven volumes. Nobody ever said I couldn’t mention two titles by the same creator in one letter, especially when that creator is Hagio. This story focuses on a teen’s decision to kill his drug-dealer father.

Midnight Secretary, written and illustrated by Tomu Ohmi, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, seven volumes, published in French by Soleil. In spite of her old-school fashion sense, Kaya proves to be a remarkably adaptable administrative assistant when she learns her boss is a vampire.

Mizu ni Sumi Oni, written and illustrated by Akiko Hatsu, originally serialized in Asahi Sonorama’s Mystery, one volume. This collection of horror shorts was apparently published in English by ComicsOne, though I can find no evidence of this. I include it here mostly for the gorgeous cover.

Momokan, written and illustrated by Kikuno Shirakawa, currently serialized in Kodansha’s Be Love. Cute puppy manga! Cute puppy manga! Cute puppy manga!

Josei magazines:

  • Mystery, published by Asahi Sonorama.

Licensed josei:

What starts with “M” in your josei alphabet?

 

 

MMF: Discovering Ranma and Ranma

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In every art form, it seems like there are chameleons and specialists. You can appreciate a particular actor for the way he or she vanishes into a role, or you can welcome the presence of a performer who has a narrower range but nails it every time. A novelist may embrace a variety of tones, subjects and styles over the course of their career, or they may choose to excel in a certain type of story told in a certain way.

I admire creative types from both categories, though I’ll admit to a slight preference for specialists, partly for the comforting familiarity they present. I know Meryl Streep is an extraordinary actress, but I feel no particular need to see everything she’s ever done. I also know that I’ll probably never mistake Eve Arden for any other performer or not be completely aware of her specific presence, but I go out of my way to watch any movie she’s ever done to bask in her brilliantly executed if more limited palette. The fun is in seeing the specialists find variations on their distinctive themes.

For my money, Rumiko Takihashi is one of our most treasured specialists. There are certain consistent elements in her work, whether it’s a nuts-and-bolts romantic comedy like Maison Ikkoku or a time-traveling fantasy epic like InuYasha. These recurring elements are always entirely welcome, in my opinion. They make reading a Takahashi title feel like catching up with an old friend whose life may have changed a bit in her absence but who is still comfortingly, reliably, charmingly herself.

To confirm this opinion, I decided to use the occasion of the Rumiko Takahashi Manga Moveable Feast to dive into a series I hadn’t yet read, Ranma 1/2. I know this is the series that not only introduced a lot of her admirers to Takahashi’s work and sometimes to manga itself, but I’d never gotten around to reading it. Part of this is due to the length of the series, which is a little daunting. But, while the selection of graphic novels at my local library isn’t comprehensive, they do have a robust supply of Takahashi’s work, including a full run of Ranma 1/2.

It’s about a highly skilled young martial artist named Ranma Saotome who has a bit of a problem. During rigorous training with his father, he fell into a cursed spring. Now, whenever he’s hit with cold water, he turns into a female version of himself. (Hot water reverses the transformation.) He and his father become guests of the Tendo family and their “School of Indiscriminate Grappling.” Fathers Tendo and Saotome have arranged a marriage between Ranma and one of the three Tendo daughters, Akane. She’s a tough cookie, and she’s not thrilled that this key component of her future has been decided for her. And she doesn’t seem to like Ranma that much.

I say “seem” because one of the most recognizable aspects of Takahashi manga is the ambivalent romantic relationship. Takahashi doesn’t waste any time twigging readers to the fact that Ranma and Akane are ideally suited to one another, but she doesn’t make Ranma and Akane seem stupid for not instantly realizing it themselves. The trick with this kind of drawn-out courtship is to create honest obstacles to the eventual union, and Takahashi is very, very good at that kind of slow burn. Novelist Charles Reade is credited with instructing storytellers to “Make ‘em laugh; make ‘em cry; make ‘em wait,” and Takahashi has successfully embraced this mantra.

In Ranma 1/2, she does this mostly by making us laugh. Few activities seem to give her as much pleasure as humiliating her protagonists, and Ranma’s boy-to-girl transformations give Takahashi plenty of opportunities. When a bucket of cold water can drastically alter the direction of a story arc, your narrative opportunities expand, and Takahashi makes excellent use of this device. It’s solid, secret-identity farce that offers quick sight gags and more complex complications.

This brings us to another Takahashi specialty, the idiot rival. In the three volumes I’ve read so far, there has been a delightful variety of this type of character, and Ranma’s dual nature makes their attentions even more potentially awkward. There’s school kendo star Kuno, who wants Akane for himself and detests male Ranma as a result. But he’s instantly smitten with scrappy, adorable female Ranma. His smug, conniving sister shows up, as does an old rival of Ranma’s with his own humiliating curse.

While all of these romantic complications force Ranma and Akane’s relationship to shift and evolve, they also result in yet another Takahashi motif, the ridiculous battle sequence. In her universe, nothing seems to say “I love you” quite as much as a completely over-the-top combat challenge. That neither Akane nor Ranma seem in the least inclined to accept the romantic terms of defeat in these tourneys matters very little; they like to kick ass. Cementing or protecting their relationship is generally just gravy, and they keep whatever savor they derive from that to themselves.

So they combine martial arts with rhythm gymnastics in one memorable sequence. As I read this, the possibilities offered by Takahashi’s shamelessness immediately sprang to mind. “They could fight people on ice skates!” A few chapters later, my theory was realized. If it sounds formulaic, it’s not, because Takahashi is a versatile specialist. As comfortable as she is with her style, she doesn’t seem inclined to repeat herself. Good comedy comes partly from the ability of the storyteller to surprise, to find new corners in a familiar, heightened universe. It’s why television sitcoms can run for a decade on the same premise and still be welcome.

This is helped by Takahashi’s ability to build sprawling, likable casts. Ranma an Akane’s fathers don’t play huge roles in the story, but they’re fun examples of the kind of parental figures that are both smarter and more experienced than the heroes but still goofy and quirky. Akane’s sisters get a few good bits, as does the family doctor whose romantic inclinations tend to overcome his professional detachment. I mentioned the rivals earlier, and I certainly look forward to meeting more of these clueless, narcissistic fools, because Takahashi tends to knock that character type out of the park.

But what about the “make ‘em cry” edict? Nobody’s ever going to mistake Ranma 1/2 for a three-hanky drama, but it is invested with genuine feeling. (Great farce always is.) This is almost entirely confined to Ranma and Akane’s underlying feelings for each other and the obstacles they face, but Takahashi does sprinkle a number of honest, moving moments here and there. The series wouldn’t work as well without them; it’s the difference between liking characters and just being amused by them.

Ranma 1/2 has all of the expected qualities of a Takahashi manga: the charm, the slapstick, the warmth, the durability. It also has that last alchemical property, Takahashi’s ability to surprise even when she’s traveling familiar territory. It’s that last quality that makes her the best kind of specialist in the world of comics.

BL Bookrack: April

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Welcome to the April installment of BL Bookrack, a monthly feature co-written with Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This month, we take a look at two offerings from Digital Manga Publishing’s Juné imprint, Love Syndrome and Right Here, Right Now, as well as BLU Manga’s Crimson Snow.

Crimson Snow | By Hori Tomoki | Published by BLU Manga | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Amazon – “Crimson Snow,” the three-part title story in this collection, is a compelling character piece, focusing on the surprising bond that grows between two very dissimilar people. When Kazuma, a yakuza gangster, is shot in the act of exacting revenge for the killing of his beloved boss, he has nowhere to go. Pausing for a moment’s rest in the snow, which he stains red with his blood, he is discovered by Yukihiro Shibata, the rich bastard son of a renowned tea ceremony master. Without a moment’s hesitation, Yukihiro takes Kazuma in and begins to nurse him back to health.

This reaction utterly baffles Kazuma. “Don’t you know what kind of person I am?” he inquires. His background makes no difference to Yukihiro or his servants, however, and as Kazuma comes to know his caregivers, he begins to understand why they’re willing to help him. For one thing, one of the servants is himself a reformed gangster, and for another, Yukihiro is so used to accepting only what he is given—a holdover from many disappointments in his relationship with his absentee father—that when he is actually adamant about something, the servants will do anything to make sure he gets it.

Despite the yakuza connection, “Crimson Snow” is actually a quiet kind of story, largely because Kazuma, for the first time in his life, has the opportunity to simply be still and spend time reflecting on his life. He loved his former boss, and loved being by his side, but it did lead him into a life of violence. Life by Yukihiro’s side is different, peaceful, and in time, Kazuma realizes that he must leave in order to avoid bringing ruin upon his friend. (“I don’t know how to protect things I care about. My hands only ever break things and take things away.”)

Awesomely, however, Kazuma makes his decision with a minimum of angst, and with the clear-eyed intent of paying for his crimes. I would have been perfectly happy if the tale had ended here, but the brief and satisfying “Galance” provides some closure to Kazuma and Yukihiro’s story. There are two other stories in the collection, as well. “At First Sight” is a simple and happy love story between two students who follow up on mutual staring with some highly consensual intimacy. “Cry for the Sun” is a little odd—being the story of a young man who falls in love with his father’s former lover—but the premise is interesting.

On the whole, I enjoyed Crimson Snow quite a lot. Hori writes that this was her first foray into BL, and she shows great promise both in storytelling and in art. (Kazuma, in particular, often looks disconcertingly realistic.) I’d love to read more by her someday.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Love Syndrome | By Yura Miyazawa | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – As a regular reader of boys’ love manga, I’ve developed my share of pet peeves. Romanticization of rape, the excessively tortured uke, demonization of female characters–all are common elements of the genre that invariably make me cringe. The greatest sin of all, however–the one most hurtful and difficult to forgive–is that of the advertised single-volume story that turns out to be an anthology. This is the sin of the publisher, not the title, of course. Yet when reading for review, it’s the poor manga at which I’ll usually direct my wrath. Fortunately, in this case, that wrath is a bit subdued.

Most BL anthologies share a few tragic failings, and Love Syndrome is no exception. Though typically revolving around a common theme (in this case, friends-turned-lovers), the stories are rushed and underdeveloped, forced to a romantic climax (pun intended) by whatever means necessary, with little attention given to minor issues like characterization and basic believability.

Take a look at this volume’s first story, for instance. An unexpected water leak in his apartment building compels college student Serizawa to seek shelter with his old friend, Shinoda. Shinoda agrees, but inexplicably dictates that his guest agree to kiss him every morning. As Serizawa quickly discovers that he enjoys Shinoda’s kisses, he also finds out that Shinoda has been in love with him for years! Now Serizawa’s in love too! Hurray! The end. While the specific circumstances of the volume’s subsequent pairings differ slightly, the general trajectory remains the same throughout. Yura Miyazawa’s characters fall fast, overcome obstacles immediately, and declare their love (with a few panels left over for the suggestion of sex), all in the span of about 30 pages.

With all that in mind, though it would be an overstatement to suggest that Love Syndrome really *succeeds* at anything, it doesn’t completely fail either, thanks in great part to its author’s relentless good cheer. If these stories are obviously spun from the thinnest wish-fulfillment fantasies, they’re also crafted with a genuine delight for those fantasies. Miyazawa’s characters beam with love, creating a sense of real warmth within their hopelessly clichéd world. And in the cold, murky depths of the BL anthology market, a little warmth goes a long way.

-Review by MJ

Right Here, Right Now!, Vols. 1-2 | By Souya Himawari | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – If I were to describe this two-volume series as a time travel historical romance, probably you’d imagine something a lot more fluffy than what Right Here, Right Now! actually has to offer. Oh, sure, it’s not particularly deep or dramatic, but it also doesn’t gloss over some of the problems with falling in love with a guy who lived over 500 years ago.

On his way home from school one day, Mizuo Yanase decides to shirk his tea ceremony lesson and loiter at the run-down local temple instead. While sitting in the spot where the Buddha altar should be, he is suddenly tranported back in time to the Warring States period, where he is hailed as the living incarnation of Buddha. He is promptly introduced to Takakage, a boy about his age, who wastes no time glomping Mizuo and requesting that he become his “page,” which seems to be a euphemism for “bedmate.”

Mizuo demurs, and spends most of the first volume learning about Yamako, the land in which he finds himself, and taking combat lessons as a way to fend off his own feelings of insecurity because Takakage is so much more manly and mature than he is. After a brief visit home, he turns to find that Takakage has aged six years and become a hardened military general. Too, Takakage’s mother is pressuring him to produce an heir, and when a proposed marriage to an enemy princess seems like the path to peace for the people of Yamako, Mizuo thinks it best to remove himself from the picture, lest he be the cause of Takakage’s refusal and, therefore, the citizens’ suffering.

Mizuo is a bit of a milquetoast protagonist, but I still enjoyed his growth as he becomes more interested in trying his best, thinks of others before himself in a way that isn’t actually annoying, and ultimately resolves that he needs to find a way to contribute if he’s ever going to feel truly at home in the past. His dilemma over whether to stay with Takakage or return to his family is also a nice touch—many such stories give the characters an easy out in this regard, but not this one. The situation with the proposed marriage is also resolved more rationally than I expected, and with a minimum of melodrama.

As a time travel fantasy, therefore, Right Here, Right Now! is pretty decent. It’s in the romance department that things didn’t work for me. Right off the bat, Takakage is eager to get physical with Mizuo, which makes him look more like a horndog than someone actually in love. Mizuo protests for a while, then eventually submits without much enthusiasm. I can totally buy that Mizuo admires Takakage and wants to be by his side, but have a hard time seeing them as a couple.

In the end, Right Here, Right Now! isn’t perfect, but it’s certainly better than expected.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Review copies provided by the publisher.

The Josei Alphabet: L

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“L” is for…

Well, it’s for “Love.” Duh.

Love Blog!!, written and illustrated by Akira Fujiwara, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, three volumes, published in German by Tokyopop. Frustrated with her love life, office lady Eriko takes to the web to blog about her search for romantic fulfillment. There’s a sequel, Love Blog!! Next, and Fujiwara has another “L” josei series, Lost Girl wa Koi o Suru, currently running in Petit Comic.

Love Cruise, written and illustrated by Tomu Ohmi, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, one volume. This collection of smutty short stories is noteworthy mostly because it’s by the creator of the awesome-or-horrible-sounding Midnight Secretary, which I’ll almost certainly mention again next week.

Love My Life, written and illustrated by Ebine Yamaji, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, one volume, published in French by Asuka. Won’t someone please, please, please publish this by-all-accounts gorgeous and moving yuri romance? Please?


Love Vibes, written and illustrated by Erica Sakurazawa, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Young You, one volume. Mako is stuck in a love triangle with her unreliable ex-boyfriend, Shoji, and an alluring bisexual woman named Mika. Another Sakurazawa title in this corner of the alphabet is Lovely!, originally published by Shodensha.

Lovers’ Kiss, written and illustrated by Akimi Yoshida, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Flowers, two volumes. Everyone’s kissing everyone at this public high school, which promises both shônen- and shôjo-ai.

Licensed josei:

  • Loveless, written and illustrated by Yun Kouga, originally serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum, published in English by Tokyopop.

What starts with “L” in your josei alphabet?

Reader reminders and recommendations:

  • Love for Dessert, written and illustrated by Hana Aoi, originally published by Ohzora Shuppan, published in English by LuvLuv, published in French by Asuka.
  • Lady Rin!, written and illustrated by Youko Hanabusa, serialized in Shodensha’s Roma x Puri.

Manga Bookshelf 2011 Eisner Roundtable

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KATE: The 2011 Eisner nominees were announced last week, and the results were genuinely surprising. Not only did Eisner mainstays like Naoki Urasawa and Osamu Tezuka get nods, but the judges also recognized an unusual number of female artists, including pioneering shoujo manga-ka Moto Hagio. The diversity of styles and subject-matters was noteworthy as well; this is the first time in several years that the judges have nominated shojo and josei titles, which often get less critical respect than seinen manga.

So my question to everyone participating in the roundtable is this: which titles are you most excited about seeing on the list? And do you think they have a shot at winning? Why or why not?

DAVID: In terms of being genuinely surprised, I’d have to pick Yumi Unita’s Bunny Drop (Yen Press) as the most pleasantly eye-opening inclusion. It’s a wonderful, wonderful series that doesn’t have any of those particular gravitas selling points, like a legendary creator or an out-there concept. Unita just tells a warm story about recognizable characters, and she tells it very, very well. It’s like the crowd-pleasing indie film that nobody expects to get a best picture nomination.

MJ: I’ll have to agree with David on the candidate for “most surprising,” for exactly the reasons he stated. In terms of pure excitement, though, I have to mention Natsume Ono’s House of Five Leaves. This thoughtful, languorous manga is one of my current favorites. And though its period setting and unique art style probably contribute to its Eisner-likeliness, I was still surprised to see it nominated.

KATE: Though I’d agree that Bunny Drop was the most surprising nomination, I’m most excited about A Drunken Dream and Other Stories. I’ve been a big Moto Hagio fan since I first read “They Were Eleven” four years ago, and have been frustrated by American publishers’ reluctance to license her work. (I know, I know: old-school shojo doesn’t sell very well, as Swan and From Eroica With Love‘s poor sales records attest.) Hagio’s Eisner nomination fills me with hope that Fantagraphics will take a chance on one of her longer stories — say, The Poe Family or Otherworld Barbara — allowing American readers to really get to know her work.

There’s another reason I want Drunken Dream to win: stories written by and for female audiences don’t often win major awards. Looking over the complete list of Eisner nominees, for example, I see only a sprinkling of female artists and writers singled out for recognition. The titles that did make the cut — Julia Wertz’s Drinking at the Movies, Raina Telgemeier’s Smile — are excellent, but I can’t help but wonder why female creators weren’t nominated in more categories, given how many smart, talented, and imaginative women are working in the field today. A win in the Best U.S. Edition of International Material–Asia category is a small but important step towards correcting that kind of oversight.

So what about you: which titles are you hoping will win? Which title would you bet on, if you were the gambling sort?

DAVID: Before I start odds-making, I definitely wanted to concur with your enthusiasm for the inclusion of women creators in the manga category. It’s been a while since they’ve been represented, I think since the 2007 and 2008 slates. And these women creators — Unita, Ono, Hagio — are extraordinary. I’m delighted to see all of them recognized.

Of course, I’m cynic enough to doubt that any of them will win. I think Eisner voters have an understandable fondness and admiration for Osamu Tezuka, so I would probably put my money on Ayako, even though I don’t think it’s his best work by any means. In fact, I’d rather have seen just about any of Vertical’s other books fill that fifth slot — Twin Spica or Peepo Choo in particular. But Ayako is a big, serious drama by a (male) legend, and that’s some serious voter bait right there.

MJ: I’m thrilled about the nomination of Drunken Dream, and out of the female-created manga on the list, I think it has the best chance to win. It’s “classic” and comes to us from a publisher that is better-respected in the western comics world than most of those that primarily (or exclusively) publish manga. I’ll join David in his cynicism, however, and agree that I think a classic from a beloved male creator (and Tezuka in particular) is much more likely to win. And while I’m not especially keen on an Ayako win (I, too, would have preferred to see nearly any of Vertical’s other recent releases nominated instead), in my heart of hearts, I admit I’d most like to see a longer series take the prize, above Ayako *or* Drunken Dream.

This will probably be an unpopular opinion, but long-form storytelling is one of the things I most highly value in comics from Japan, and though I’d like to see Hagio get the attention she deserves, I’d rather see her get it for one of her longer series. Like Kate, I hope the nomination inspires Fantagraphics to consider publishing some of those here. I’d be very excited to see one of them on the Eisner list in a couple of years.

All that said, I’d quite possibly die of joy if any of this year’s nominated female mangaka actually did win, Hagio included.

KATE: That’s a great point, MJ: multi-volume series have certainly won Eisners — Buddha and Old Boy are past winners — but it’s very difficult to compare a complete story such as Ayako with an ongoing one such as Bunny Drop or House of Five Leaves. Sustaining a complicated narrative over many volumes is a very different skill than telling a story in a single volume; it seems patently unfair to compare something which is still in an early stage of development with something where one can actually judge the effectiveness of the ending.

And speaking of long-form stories, do you think 2011 will be the year that Naoki Urasawa finally wins an award, or is he doomed to be the Susan Lucci of the Eisners?

DAVID: I think the best way I can answer this is to suggest that Urasawa is an excellent Eisner nominee but not necessarily an ideal Eisner winner. And, speaking as someone who watched All My Children for many of the years that Lucci was nominated for her performance and lost, I think the comparison is apt beyond the nominations-to-losses ratio.

The thing about Lucci, and I say this as an admirer of her work, is that she rarely had those moments of transcendence that could be found in the performances of the actresses who actually won. She’s adept at both comedy and drama, and she certainly has charisma in the role, but I think her great failing was that she made her work look effortless. She was reliably entertaining rather than transporting, and I think you can say something similar about Urasawa.

He makes terrific genre comics that are among the most reliably entertaining you’re likely to find on the shelf. But when I compare his work to that of Tezuka, Hagio, or even Ono to a lesser extent, I see Urasawa possessing great skill as an entertainer rather than singular vision as an artist, and I think that puts him at a disadvantage in the best manga category.

When you compare him to the competition in the best writer/artist category, I think he could theoretically enjoy better odds, but then you have to factor in the tastes of the general population of voters. What percentage of that pool reads comics from Japan? And what percentage of that percentage reads Urasawa’s work?

MJ: David, thank you for clarifying your point so beautifully. That makes a lot of sense to me, and I think it’s helped me understand my own feelings about Urasawa as well. I like 20th Century Boys and all the other work of his I’ve read, and I’d describe them as wonderful comics and great reads. Yet when someone asks me for a list of my favorite mangaka, his name never even comes to mind. Because even though I thoroughly enjoy his work, my “favorites” will be writers who really speak to me in some specific way that is unique to them, and aside from traumatizing me forever with the death of a robotic dog, that’s never been Urasawa.

KATE: Your comments about Urasawa, David, make me wonder if Nabuaki Tadano’s 7 Billion Needles has a chance at winning its category (Best Adaptation from Another Work). Tadano’s work is solid but not showy; unless the judges have read Hal Clement’s original novel, it would be hard for them to appreciate what Tadano did to make the storyline more appropriate for a sequential art treatment. (Clement’s book, for readers unfamiliar with it, takes place largely inside the human host’s body, and consists of many lengthy conversations between host and alien. It’s a good read, but not something that would translate directly into a graphic novel.)

DAVID: That’s hard for me to answer, since I haven’t read Clement’s book. I do think the outcome of that category will depend on whether or not voters are considering how the source material was adapted or the stand-alone quality of the work. I’ve really enjoyed the first three volumes of 7 Billion Needles, so I was just happy to see it get a nomination and, hopefully, more readers from that.

MJ: I was actually surprised to see it nominated there, not because it isn’t a great series (it is), but because from what I understood, it wasn’t a direct adaptation they way we tend to think of them. I do think 7 Billion Needles is the kind of manga that appeals easily to non-manga readers, so at least that might work in its favor. I’m always pleased to see manga nominated outside of the Asian-specific category, so this nomination was one of my special favorites this year.

KATE: I’m hoping that the judges understand that Needle would have been difficult to adapt as is; Tadano did a great job of taking Clement’s ideas and making them work in a visual format, which required some pretty fundamental changes to the script.

And since we’re on the subject of Asian comics nominated for categories besides Best U.S. Edition of International Material–Asia, what did you think of Korea As Viewed By 12 Creators: did it deserve a nomination?

DAVID: I think it did, yes. It’s not the stunner that Japan as Viewed by 17 Creators was, but it does what an anthology is supposed to do: present a variety of styles and introduce the reader to some talented creators while featuring a very respectable percentage of good stories and some great contributions.

I have to say that I was kind of surprised not to see Top Shelf’s Ax anthology nominated. I’m not saying I liked it better than Korea, but when you consider the ambition and breadth of the project, it seemed like such obvious Eisner bait.

MJ: I was a little disappointed in Korea As Viewed By 12 Creators, but I’ll admit that my expectations may have been inappropriately high. I am certainly happy to see it nominated, if only for the visibility it might bring to its Korean creators. Anything that might help to bring a greater variety of Korean comics our way is a win in my book.

I would have liked to see something like Twin Spica break into the non-Asian-specific categories, but I can’t be surprised that it didn’t.

KATE: I’d have been more inclined to nominate Herve Tanquerelle’s “A Rat in the Country of Yong” for Best Short Story than to nominate the entire Korea anthology. “Rat” is a perfect example of how to do wordless comics: it’s got a clear, simple narrative that anyone can follow, but all of the fine details — the character’s mode of transport, the view from his hotel window — add nuance to the “stranger in a strange land” concept. Furthermore, by using animals as stand-ins for people, Tanquerelle avoided one of the problems that plagued other stories in the collection: cultural condescension. I know I’m in the minority for disliking Catel’s contribution, but I found a lot of her observations patronizing and superficial; it’s as if someone based their entire impression of New York City on one trip to Barney’s, you know?

As for titles that I feel were neglected, I have to agree with both of you: Twin Spica would have been a natural choice for the Best Publication for Teens, as would Cross Game. Both series have the rhythm and feeling of a good YA novel — more so, I’d argue, than some of the nominated titles in the teen category, which seem a little young for real adolescents.

Are there any other titles that you feel were unjustly neglected?

DAVID: I do generally find myself wondering why there’s no room for manga in the Best Publication for Teens category, especially for the titles you mentioned, but that might be more of a function of me not having read enough of the nominees that are there. And given that he has three excellent series currently in publication, I would love to see Takehiko Inoue nominated in the Best Writer/Artist category at some point.

MJ: I could definitely get behind that. I’d also love to see Real in the Best Continuing Series category.

See The Manga Critic for a full rundown of 2011’s nominated manga and manhwa titles. A complete listing of this year’s nominees in all categories can be found at Comic-Con.org.

The Josei Alphabet: K

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“K” is for…

Kuragihime, obviously, but that’s one of those “just a matter of time” titles, so I’ll save the five major slots for series that I haven’t really highlighted yet. Kiko-chan’s Smile might be less likely for licensing, but, again, I’ve already covered it to the best of my ability.

Kami no Kodomo, written and illustrated by Kyoudai Nishioka, originally serialized in Ohta Shuppan’s Horror M, one volume. This is described as a “twisted and deeply disturbing tale of a sociopathic serial killer.” The brother-and-sister team that goes by Kyoudai Nishioka was responsible for one of the stories in Top Shelf’s Ax anthology, and one of their other titles, Child’s Play, was published by Last Gasp, though it seems to be out of print.

Kanon, written and illustrated by Chiho (Revolutionary Girl Utena) Saito, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Flowers, six volumes. This one promises seriously crazy melodrama about a gifted but emotionally damaged young violinist.

Kawa Yori mo Nagaku Yuruyaka ni, written and illustrated by Akimi (Banana Fish) Yoshida, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Flower, two volumes. The summary of this title has to be read to be believed, but it sounds just awesomely insane. A snippet: “Toshi is your regular senior high student, except in the evenings when he’s a bartender at a joint frequented by American servicemen, where he deals drugs, pimps, and even cross-dresses a little on the side.”

Kaze to Ki no Uta, written and illustrated by Keiko (Andromeda Stories, To Terra…) Takemiya, variously serialized in Shogakukan’s Sho-Comi and Petit Flower, 17 volumes. Yes, this is the legendary The Song of the Wind in the Trees.

Kiss and Never Cry, written and illustrated by Yayoi (Tramps Like Us) Ogawa, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, 10 volumes. This emotional drama focuses on a star-crossed pair of ice dancers.

Magazines:

  • Kiss, published by Kodansha

Licensed josei:

  • Kaze Hikaru, written and illustrated by Taeko Watanabe, currently serialized in Shogakukan’s Flowers, 28 29 volumes to date, published in English by Viz.

What starts with “K” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

  • Karneval, written and illustrated by Touya Mikinagi, currently serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum, published in English in Singapore by Chuang Yi.
  • Kajimaya, written by Eiichi Ikegami, illustrated by Mamoru Kurihara, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, five volumes.

3 Things Thursday: tl;dr

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It happens to everyone at some point or another, for some reason or another. Sooner or later, every manga fan will drop a series they previously liked–maybe even loved–out of boredom, disappointment, or just plain oversight. And though a significant part of what draws me particularly to manga is its tendency towards long-form storytelling, it’s happened to me too.

Though as Kate Dacey recently stated, breaking up is hard to do, sometimes making up is even harder. Once you’ve let a few volumes pass for this reason or that, even if your intention is to pick a series back up, the catch-up can be daunting. So on this 3 Things Thursday, I’ve decided to take a look at 3 series I’ve dropped, intentionally or not, why I dropped them, and what my chances are of returning to the fold.

3 series MJhas failed to continue:

1. Bleach | Tite Kubo | Viz Media – At this point, I suppose I know more fans who have stopped reading Tite Kubo’s shounen battle epic than those who have kept on, but for my part, I’m actually a little surprised. While it’s absolutely true that I tend to find its long battle sequences tragically uninteresting, the point at which I dropped the series (after volume 28) feels a bit sad. Yes, the series was headed into a (likely) long stretch of battles, none of which I was keen on sitting through, but it had also just produced two of my favorite volumes of the entire series. With such riches so recently offered up, why did I stop reading?

I think it’s possible that $9.99 a volume just felt like too much to spend to wade through another swath of battles, waiting for the next bit of juicy characterization to finally materialize. Now I’m more than five volumes behind. Return? Unlikely.

2. Otomen | Aya Kanno | Viz Media – Otomen is a series that has left me tormented. On one hand, it’s absolutely brilliant. I mean really, truly, a gorgeous piece of work. But much like one of Kate’s drop-ees, Detroit Metal City, a person could die waiting for something to actually happen. These series are like old-school television sitcoms. Though at any moment it might seem like something significant could happen, changing its characters’ lives in truly dramatic ways, everything is back to normal by the end of the episode, with everyone safely returned to exactly where they started. As brilliant as the series’ premise is, it’s failed for me as long-form storytelling, and unless there’s going to be some genuine forward motion in plot or characterization, I’m loathe to give it more of my time.

I stopped reading this series after volume five, though on some level, it broke my heart to do so. It’s such a smart, funny series. But what’s an epic-loving girl to do?

3. Pluto | Naoki Urasawa/Osamu Tezuka | Viz Media – This dropped series is the saddest of them all, because I had no intention of dropping it at all. And though I understand how it happened, I’m not sure how to get back on track. Back in July of 2009, I wrote an entry called Tears and Manga, inspired by my experience with volume four of Pluto, which had so affected me with the death of a mechanical dog in its first chapter, that I was unable to continue reading at the time. Now, any regular reader of this blog will know that I love to be hurt by fiction. Really I do. I love to feel deeply about what I’m reading, even if those feelings are difficult to handle. I fully expected to jump right back into Pluto, one of my very favorite series at the time, once I’d recovered from the hurt, and I expected to read it eagerly to the end. But the truth is, I haven’t. In fact, I don’t even own past volume five.

How do I return, now that I’ve failed to buy the rest of the series? Can my heart or my pocketbook ever manage it? I sincerely hope so.

Readers, what beloved series have you dropped and why?

The Josei Alphabet: J

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“J” is for…

Jazz-Tango, written and illustrated by Wakuni Akisato, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Flower, one volume. This yaoi-themed tale features a surfer whose life takes a dark turn when a virtual double shows up in his world.

Jinsei Jojo na no da, written and illustrated by Ai Ueno, originally published by Shueisha, one volume. A young couple elopes and plans to live on love, until the harsh realities of life smack them around a bit. Will their relationship endure?


Jotei Ecatherina, written and illustrated by Riyoko (The Rose of Versailles) Ikeda, five volumes. This series uses the life story of Russian-born author and historian Henri Troyat to examine the biography of Catherine the Great. The notion of Ikeda examining czarist Russia makes me drool, as do the page samples on Amazon.

Jounetsu no Game, based on a novel by Helen Brooks, written and illustrated by Keiko Ishimoto, originally published by Ohzora Shuppan, one volume. This one sounds like Two Weeks Notice, featuring a hard-working young woman slaving away for a selfish jerk. Of course, this jerk’s name is “Matt de Capistrano,” so it certainly gets points for that.

Juunji no Kane ga Naru made, based on a novel by Elizabeth Harbison, written and illustrated by Junko Sasaki, originally published by Harlequinsha, one volume. The most striking thing about this book, aside from the heroine’s apparently disastrous home perm, is her career: she’s a hotel concierge, which would make a great subject for an episodic seinen or josei series. Career concerns aside, our concierge must deal with the advances of the Prince of Beloria. Ah, Beloria… how I tread your soil someday.

What starts with “J” in you josei alphabet?

 

 

BL Bookrack: March

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Welcome to the March installment of BL Bookrack, a monthly feature co-written with Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This month, we take a look at four offerings from Digital Manga Publishing’s Juné imprint, Honey Chocolate Pancakes, Intense Rain, My Bad!, and Then Comes Love.

Honey Chocolate Pancakes | By Keiko Kinoshita | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – The two-part title story in this collection by Keiko Kinoshita (Kiss Blue) is alone worth the price of admission. When famous actor Tougo Kijima takes a sudden sabbatical from his job and claims to be unemployed and homeless, he’s taken in by pasty chef Chiharu Abe, whose creations Tougo adores. They soon begin fooling around, with prickly Chiharu gradually lowering his defenses towards his uncouth houseguest.

Of course, when he finds out Tougo’s secret and realizes he’s been lied to, Chiharu feels like a fool. Tougo claims that it wasn’t his intention to trick Chiharu, but the damage has been done. Kinoshita handles this scene extremely well, especially in the way she allows silence to hang between them when there’s nothing more to be said. The second part of their story is a little less polished, since we don’t learn exactly why Chiharu allows Tougo back into his life, only that he does and that Tougo is a pretty jealous guy.

Subsequent stories are less successful. The best of the remainder is “For Love,” in which a businessman named Miyasaka, who has nurtured an unrequited love for his friend Minami for ten years, believes the time has come to wish Minami happiness as he embarks on a relationship with a woman. Miyasaka’s pain and Minami’s confusion are nicely conveyed, though the abrupt ending is somewhat of a disappointment.

Neither of the other stories in the collection impressed me much. “Tomorrow Will Be Rosy” is about the efforts of a teenaged couple to consummate their relationship while “A Clever Man at Work” features a very manipulative character who purposefully acts incompetent on the job in order to frustrate his mentor into making cute expressions. He also lies about his background to elicit sympathy and is just overall very unappealing.

In the end, it’s a fairly uneven collection, but not a bad read by any means.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Intense Rain | By Shinri Fuwa | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – It’s been five years since smooth operator Takaaki lost his college boyfriend, Ryuji, as a consequence of his own chronic infidelity. But when Ryuji turns up as a substitute at the high school where Takaaki teaches, old feelings rush back on both sides. Though Ryuji resists falling back into a relationship that was once so painful, confusing signals from Takaaki beg the question, can people really change?

If there’s one thing about this manga that deserves high praise, it would be the cover. The book’s cover image describes and contextualizes its contents more accurately than any review ever could. The tall, masculine aggressor, his tiny, disheveled prey, the melodramatic pose struck between their rain-soaked bodies, framed by flowers and dark desire–all these things together provide a pretty succinct overview of Shinri Fuwa’s Intense Rain. Perhaps the only the book’s inner cover could go one better.

If this sounds a bit snide, well, maybe it is, but there’s an element of reluctant praise that I simply can’t deny. For a book to be so forthright about what it hopes to accomplish (and so utterly successful in accomplishing it!) is something rare indeed. Intense Rain is, in execution, exactly as advertised, no more, no less. And if I might have hoped for more, can I really complain?

From the very beginning, Intense Rain exemplifies BL in its most surface terms. Seme Takaaki is dark, mysterious, vaguely brutal, and a predator of men and women alike. Uke Ryuji is delicate, emotionally frazzled, perpetually blushing, and helpless in his man’s arms. As maddening as these baseline characterizations may be, however, it’s the characters’ “growth” that is the story’s primary weakness. Takaaki’s transformation from classic rake to caring lover is left too much offscreen to be believed, while Ryuji’s acceptance of his lover’s sudden reformation is enough to send one’s book flying across the room. A secondary story involving the romance between a 30-something salaryman and a high school student fares a little bit better, though it is no less shackled by standard BL tropes.

What Intense Rain does offer is a strong dose of romantic melodrama and some pretty, pretty pictures, for those who have the craving. Then again, you could just stick with the cover.

-Review by MJ

My Bad! | By Rize Shinba | Published by Juné | Rated YA (16+) | Buy at Akadot – I’m generally not one for BL comedies, much less those that center on underwear thievery, so I initially did not think I’d be reading My Bad!. That changed after I checked out Intriguing Secrets, another title by the same creator which was favorably reviewed by MJin a Bookrack of yore. I liked it very much, which prompted me to give My Bad! a shot.

It turns out that My Bad! is a quirky and amusing collection of short stories that share some common themes and flaws. I appreciate how often the younger, smaller men are actually the driving force in the relationship. They haven’t merely been sought out by some horny seme whose advances they initially resist, but are shown to have their own drives and desires.

In “Lovely Beast,” for example, it’s teenage Hiroki who is obsessed by Izumi, a tenant in the building Hiroki’s grandparents oversee. He goes so far as to let himself into Izumi’s place and make off with a pair of his boxers. Smutty discovery ensues. “Won’t You Be My Wife?” and “Miracle Voice,” in turn feature younger men falling in love with a housekeeper and the guy who makes the announcements on the subway, respectively.

My favorite in this line is “Stamp Please!” in which a huge, genial postal worker named Yuji Kikkawa delivers a letter to Ayato Mashiba. Ayato is instantly smitten, and sends a letter to himself just so he can see Kikkawa again. Throughout the story, he puts himself in Kikkawa’s path while simultaneously avoiding the desperate pleas of a stalkery ex-lover. The plot takes a dark turn, but I ended up liking it a lot. Shinba writes in her notes that she regards this as a serious story, even though others perceived it as comedy, and I quite agree.

Where some of the stories fail is in making the reciprocation scenes believable. I’m not sure if blame should be laid at the feet of the short-story format or if Shinba just couldn’t communicate the characters’ true emotions clearly, but there are a few stories in which I found the happy moment extremely abrupt. Probably the biggest culprit here is “Won’t You Be My Wife?” where a surly character is suddenly revealed to care about his housekeeper far more than was ever previously suggested.

On the whole, I enjoyed the collection and feel pretty certain now that I’ll like anything Shinba produces.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Then Comes Love | By Riyu Yamakami | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – When happy-go-lucky college student Takahiro approaches aloof loner Midori to try to gain an introduction for a smitten female friend, it’s surprising to both of them that this would eventually lead to close friendship. But things get complicated fast when an encounter with another student forces Midori to admit to himself and his friend that he’s gay. Though Takahiro claims not to be bothered by this new information, he’s also clearly angry about Midori’s new relationship, calling his own feelings for Midori into question.

While this type of love triangle is a pretty standard setup in the “best friends turned lovers” BL sub-genre, Riyu Yamakami makes better use of it than most. Though there’s never any question about where the story’s primary relationship is headed, its journey is surprisingly believable and comparatively un-rushed. Even the characters’ “popular guy” and “aloof guy” stereotypes work in the story’s favor here, allowing Yamakami to thoroughly explore the way two contrasting personalities process all the various difficulties and emotions common to falling in love.

Yamakimi’s only real misstep is in her use of the love triangle’s third party, a smooth talker named Soejima who alternates between promiscuous playboy and sneaky matchmaker. Though technically no less a BL cliché than the story’s two leads, Soejima unfortunately crosses over into uglier real-life stereotypes, spouting lines like, “Gay men are always looking for the chance to have sex with tons of other guys,” as he works on seducing a desperate Takahiro during the book’s single descent into truly absurd fantasy.

Yakamimi’s artwork, though awkward in some of the characters’ more physical encounters, is generally a highlight, providing much of the contrast and emotional nuance that make her characters so compelling.

Though not without its minor stumbles, Then Comes Love is a genuinely refreshing addition to Juné’s BL one-shot catalogue.

-Review by MJ

Review copies provided by the publisher.

The Josei Alphabet: I

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“I” is for…

Ice Age, written and illustrated by Akiko Monden, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, ten volumes. There are no wooly mammoths here, but there is the whiff of extinction. Smelling the death of traditional journalism well ahead of time, Eiji quits his job as a reporter to teach English. Published in French by Kana under the title Professeur Eiji. Its sequel, Ice Age 2, is up to three volumes in Chorus.

Ice Forest, written and illustrated by Chiho (Revolutionary Girl Utena) Saitou, currently running in Shogakukan’s Flowers, up to 8 volumes. In this weekend’s random question, there was great enthusiasm for figure skating, which is the subject of this series. A former solo skater thinks her career is over until she’s paired with a Canadian-Japanese ice dancer.

Ichiya dake no Princess, based on a novel by Marion Lennox, written and illustrated by Takako Hashimoto, originally published by Harlequinsha, one volume. Tragedy! Royalty! Yarn! A fashion designer travels to a European principality for its fabulous yarns, gets into a traffic accident that kills the prince’s fiancée, and winds up staying with the royal family. Tangled! (I know that this is available in English as Princess of Convenience, but I couldn’t wait until I got to that letter. Yarn!)

Imagine, written and illustrated by Satoru Makimura, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, 11 volumes. This one’s about two working women, a mother and a daughter. The mother is an architect, and the daughter is an office lady. I suspect Makimura’s Imagine 29 may be a sequel of sorts. It ran in Shueisha’s Young You for 3 volumes and focuses on the relationship between two very different sisters.

IS: Otoko demo Onna demo Nai Sei, written and illustrated by Chiyo Rokuhana, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, 17 volumes. This series takes an apparently episodic look at intersex people and the various challenges they face. It does seem to have long arcs focusing on individual characters, though the point of view seems to change over the course of the series.

Licensed josei:

  • IC in a Sunflower, written and illustrated by Mitsukazu Mihara, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, published in English by Tokyopop, one volume.
  • Idol Dreams, based on a novel by Charlotte Lamb, written and illustrated by Youko Hanabusa, originally serialized in Ohzora Shuppan’s Harlequin, published in English by Dark Horse, one volume.

What starts with “I” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

Don’t Fear the Adaptation: House of Five Leaves

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House of Five Leaves | by Natsume Ono | Manga: Shogakukan/Viz Media | Studio: Manglobe/Funimation

Watch streaming from Funimation

House of Five Leaves cast

Regular readers of Manga Bookshelf will need no introduction to House of Five Leaves. MJlisted it as one of her best new seinen series of 2010, Kate has reviewed all three volumes, and David himself wrote a smart little ode to it recently when he reviewed volume two. For those of you still new to the series, House of Five Leaves is Natsume Ono’s seven volume samurai story. The main character, Akitsu Masanosuke, referred to in the series as Masa, is a masterless samurai determined to change himself while looking for work in Edo. One afternoon, Masa is hired by a suspicious man named Yaichi as a bodyguard. But all is not as it seems: Yaichi is actually the leader of a band of kidnappers who call themselves “Five Leaves”, and he doesn’t just want Masa to be his bodyguard — he wants Masa to join them as a comrade in crime. Masa, by nature a righteous and naïve man, resists Yaichi’s attempts to draw him in. However, he soon finds himself entangled in the fate of Five Leaves and, more importantly, in the mystery of Yaichi.

There are so many wonderful things about the anime adaptation of House of Five Leaves that it’s hard to know where to start. Thankfully, Natsume Ono’s distinct art style makes my job easier. Manglobe and the series director Tomomi Mochizuki transferred Ono’s art effortlessly into animation. The character designs are instantly recognizable, especially in Masa’s wide, childish eyes and Otake’s playful lipsticked smile. The sweatdrops, stray hairs, and blush lines of Ono’s characters are rendered in loving detail in every episode. There are even moments — the candy pieces of episode four, the pillars of the bridge in episode twelve — where the lines look like calligraphy, as if they were penned by Ono herself.

Often anime simplifies manga artwork. House of Five Leaves, the anime, does the opposite. While the manga tends to be very “white” on the page, full of negative space, the anime is full of textures: the unpolished wood of Goinkyo’s home, the tatami mat of the Katsuraya house, the smooth rice paper doors of Ume’s restaurant. Even more impressive is the interplay of light and shadow in the anime. Characters constantly move in and out of candlelight, open doors to let in sunlight, or sit with their backs to a window, hiding their faces in the dark. Ono is no slob herself when it comes to lighting in the manga, but the anime takes full advantage of its color palette — earthy browns and subdued gray-greens — to make Edo come alive.

The soundtrack features a combination of rumbling drums, wistful koto melodies, and reedy flute-like tunes that helps ground us in a historical Edo that, amazingly, never comes off as antiquated or forced. Likewise, the voice actor choices are almost flawless. Daisuke Namikawa as Masa is exactly the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve and never says anything less than what he means. Veteran voice actor Takahiro Sakurai’s performance as Yaichi is by turns teasing, seductive, spiteful, and, at his best, all three at once. A shout out must be given to Masaya Takatsuka, who never misses a beat conveying Ume’s my-bark-is-worse-than-my-bite personality, especially in episode three when Ume makes a crack at Matsu. But the anime adaptation goes that extra mile: if you listen carefully, you can hear Edo in the background, in the soft drone of water boiling in a kettle, or the river streaming past, or the birds of Goinkyo’s backyard, or the shuffling of Yaichi’s wooden shoes. Ono’s manga might not think to comment on the “shaaa chhk” sound of a rice door sliding open or the faint crackle of straw as Ume unloads their latest hostage out of a basket, but it would be a pity to go through this anime without appreciating these little details.

At first glance, House of Five Leaves is about the journey Five Leaves takes from a ragtag group of misfits to a family who looks out for their own, even when there’s no money involved. For lack of a more nuanced, less cheesy word, the story is heart-warming. The more you uncover the crisscrossing ties of responsibility that connect the Five Leaves members, whether it be the reluctant life debts Matsu shoulders or the reason Ume remains in Five Leaves, the more you enjoy seeing them together at Ume’s restaurant, making fun of each other as they drink sake. Sadly, the anime does cut out one of my favorite scenes from the manga so far (Ume and Matsu bickering in volume one), and I imagine the later episodes similarly streamline forthcoming volumes. But the heart of the story comes through unscathed, which is a testament both to the strength of Ono’s writing and Manglobe’s talent at adaptation.

Underlying this story, though, is another tried and true theme: appearances are deceiving. Yaichi shows up in the first episode as a sage and benefactor to Masa, so naturally Masa, along with the viewer, looks upon Yaichi as a voice of authority. When we meet Yagi, the police chief who seems to know more about Yaichi than he lets on, we’re immediately suspicious of him because Yaichi tells us to be. But the more that’s uncovered about Yaichi, the more we realize Yaichi is the unreliable one. Just as Ume, Matsu, and Otake are more virtuous than the criminals we first meet them as, Yaichi is not at all the kind-hearted character we first encounter. In fact, he’s the most dangerous one of them all.

The anime has restructured the pacing of Ono’s series, favoring episodes that end on jarring cliffhangers and jumps in the timeline, often through flashbacks. Some might prefer the more measured pacing Ono shows in the manga; others might find the anime benefits from a more coherent focus, especially when it comes to Yaichi’s storyline. I for one felt like I could guess the events of episode twelve from the flashback sequence in episode one — a flashback sequence, I should add, that does not exist in the manga. But anime being the inherently action-based medium it is, I can’t fault Manglobe for wanting to ratchet up the tension just a little on what is, overall, a slow-moving story.

In the end House of Five Leaves is one of those series that I enjoy for reasons I can’t put into words. It’s not plot driven, and the characters never really change, even if they become more well-rounded. Certainly Masa never learns to get over his fear of being watched and remains the clumsy, shy samurai we first meet. But there is a marvelous je ne sais quoi to House of Five Leaves, an atmosphere of rambling down a countryside path on a late autumn afternoon, knowing that you’ll get to your destination eventually but not really knowing when. The anime luxuriates in that feeling. You could spend your time trying to piece together all the threads of the story, but you’d be missing the point. It’s meant to be savored, like a dango shared with a friend while hungry.

P.S. Next month’s anime adaptation will be Antique Bakery, just in case you haven’t had enough of stories about people making their own families. As always, if you have any anime you’d like taste-tested, drop me a line.

Breaking Down Banana Fish, Vols. 14-16

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Hello and welcome once again to our roundtable, Breaking Down Banana Fish!

We continue this month with our new three-volume format, and with just six volumes left to discuss, that means we’ll have the entire series covered by the end of our May installment.

Volumes fourteen through sixteen are action-packed, as Eiji and the others manage to (mostly) pull off their ambitious rescue operation, followed by a declaration of war by Golzine that places all three of our major gangs at the center of a military-style siege. Meanwhile, Yut-Lung declares a war of his own with assassin Blanca on board as his bodyguard.

I’m joined again in this round by Michelle Smith (Soliloquy in Blue), Khursten Santos (Otaku Champloo), Connie C. (Slightly Biased Manga), Eva Volin (Good Comics For Kids), and Robin Brenner (No Flying, No Tights).

Continued thanks to these wonderful women for their hard work and brilliance!

Read our roundtable on volumes one and two here, volumes three and four here, volumes five and six here, volumes seven and eight here, volumes nine and ten here, and volumes eleven through thirteen here. On to part seven!

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3 Things Thursday: Arts in Manga

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One of the things that seems to naturally go along with a career in the arts is a love/hate relationship with fictional portrayals of people engaging in such, and that definitely applies to my experience with arts-focused manga. Still, after a fevered late night open letter directed at the TV show Glee, I can’t help but have those exact portrayals on the brain.

Most artists are going to be more sensitive to the inaccuracies and overworked clichés in fiction written about their own field than any other, so I suppose I’m lucky that there hasn’t yet been a manga (imported here, at least) about singers and actors in musical theater (though there are some fairly funny scenes with Broadway hoofer Art in Reiko Shimizu’s Moon Child). When there is, I’ll surely cringe. But for now, I’ll enjoy these fine series, glossing over the bits that chafe and taking them as they are. As a side note, I find it interesting that its subjects are all students.

3 Performing & Visual Arts Epics:

1. Nodame Cantabile | Tomoko Ninomiya | Del Rey Manga | Classical Music – While I know at least one classical musician who despises this manga, as a former classical voice student, this series evokes memories of what I loved most about my college years, when I was surrounded by other students just as serious about music as I was. For me, coming from high school in the depressed midwest, this was actually pretty novel, and definitely inspiring in a whole lot of ways. What perhaps works so well for me here, is that my own personality as a young music student was pretty much equal parts ambitious Chiaki and free-spirited Nodame. My relentless drive was weirdly balanced by hippie-like clothing and a persistent absence of shoes, something that drove at least one of my studio teachers absolutely crazy. It was actually my experience with her that convinced me to avoid a career in opera. I really, really didn’t like wearing shoes.

2. Swan | Ariyoshi Kyoko | CMX | Ballet – Unbelievably, I’ve only read one volume of Swan, and one of my greatest fears at this point is that I’ll miss picking up the others, now that CMX is no more. Though I never was a real dancer despite years of classes (lack of physical discipline & wrong, wrong body type), I spent quite a bit of my youth obsessed with ballet, and spent no small amount of my “spare” cash buying tickets to ABT performances during my NYC years. For me, reading Swan is a natural extension of my teenaged fixation with The Children of Theatre Street and The Red Shoes, confirmed for me by Jason Thompson’s detailed writeup in his column at ANN. Will I find the rest of this series? (what was published of it, at least?) Let’s hope it’s not too late!

3. Honey and Clover | Chika Umino | Viz Media | Visual Art – I suppose it’s a little tragic that the type of art that provides me with the greatest mystery is also the inspiration for the series on this list that has (so far) taught me the least about its characters’ vocation. I expect its later volumes may focus more heavily on career, but as I’ve (shockingly) just begun the series, I’m so far mainly lured by its delicious soap-opera. Regardless of how it plays out, however, I suspect there is no manga on earth powerful enough to help me understand how visual artists do what they do–that is how magical it is for me. Even as a music student, I learned early on that I would never create true beauty with my hands, no matter how much I tried and practiced. My voice was the only thing I could ever make real music with… the only instrument I could ever command with my own will.

So, readers, gimme your arts-centric manga! I want to read more! MORE!