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Let’s Get Visual: Fruits Basket

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MICHELLE: So, we’ve been talking about Fruits Basket all week, but I’m certainly not yet weary of the topic. How about you, MJ?

MJ: I suspect I could discuss Fruits Basket for weeks on end!

MICHELLE: Me too. We’ve already discussed the general awesomeness of the story and characters this week, but one thing we haven’t talked much about yet is the art. Takaya’s style evolves a good bit over the course of the series, and while I used to think I preferred her earlier style, I’ve lately realized that that is not the case at all. Do you have a preference yourself?

MJ: Hm, well, I definitely appreciate the prettiness of the series’ early volumes, and I do think there is some detail lost later on, but one thing the series never lacks is expressiveness, and that goes for the artwork as much as anything else.

MICHELLE: I think the expressiveness actually improves later on, at least insofar as Tohru is concerned, since she loses those really, really, really big eyes of hers. I will forever mourn the changes to my beloved Hatori, though, who goes from looking like this to looking like this.

It’s not that he’s become unattractive; he’s just lost a certain bishounen quality that I had certainly appreciated.

MJ: I do think Takaya does a wonderful job of aging the characters subtly over the course of the story, and I’m not necessarily just referring to their physical ages. I think she matures them overall, letting their outsides reflect their insides.

MICHELLE: That is definitely true, especially with Kyo, Yuki, and Momiji. Probably Momiji most stunningly of all.

MJ: Yes, there is quite a bit made of Momiji’s growing up, isn’t there? And though it’s more difficult to see that transformation as “subtle,” it’s certainly striking and oddly poignant.

MICHELLE: Takaya really does well with “striking” and “poignant,” doesn’t she? Which leads us to our specific picks for this month’s column!

Many of the most powerful and affecting moments in Fruits Basket occur between just two characters. To exemplify this trend, MJand I have both chosen scenes starring only Kyo and Tohru.

MJ, why don’t we start with you?

Volume 15, Chapter 87, Pages 129-134 (TOKYOPOP)

MJ: Okay, well, I’ve chosen a scene from late in volume fifteen. After losing his temper in a confrontation with Yuki, Kyo returns to his classroom to find Tohru waiting for him, alone. In terms of script alone, the scene is not especially remarkable. There are some dramatic moments in Kyo’s inner monologue, but they’re both being careful not to *say* anything out of the ordinary. What makes the scene really work, though, is their body language.

At this point in the series, both Kyo and Tohru are just barely beginning to realize how they feel about each other, and Takaya plays this beautifully. The way Tohru lights up the moment she realizes Kyo is in the room, Kyo’s impulse to lean against her, their excited nervousness about being close, and especially Tohru’s last page alone—you can actually feel the tension between them in every panel. It’s so well done.

I especially like the last panel, with a flushed Tohru hurrying out of the frame. Somehow, leaving us with the empty space behind her keeps us lingering in the moment, much as she would herself, if she hadn’t been called away. There’s a sense there that the moment still looms large for her, too, even as she’s hastily left it behind, emphasized by the flowers still present in the frame. Like her absence in the frame is saying, “Really intense and possibly scary feelings happened here… run away, run away!” Does that make any sense?

MICHELLE: It absolutely makes sense! I’m always interested in how mangaka use open space, and I think you’re quite right that in that final panel it’s being used to keep us in place while Tohru dashes off. On the first page, the oddly tall panel of Tohru alone in the classroom employs empty space to emphasize how she really is the only one there.

This example reminds me of your pick for our “Duds” column, Baseball Heaven, and how the artist in that case utterly failed to establish convincing body language between two characters who were meant to be attracted to each other. Perhaps Ellie Mamahara needs to read more Fruits Basket!

MJ: Oh, good call, Michelle! Yes, that’s the perfect choice for contrast here. Everything that’s missing in that scene from Baseball Heaven is demonstrated spectacularly here, and as a result, this actually plays as a love scene much more convincingly, despite not actually being one. Even the use of small frames to emphasize the hand or face—something that just felt distracting and fragmented in Mamahara’s scene—adds to the tension here. It’s wonderfully done.

So what about you, Michelle? What scene did you choose?

Volume 22, Chapter 128, Pages 96-99 (TOKYOPOP)

MICHELLE: The scene I’ve chosen is from volume 22, quite near the end of the series. Tohru has been hospitalized and her friends have barred Kyo from seeing her while she recovers, since she gets stressed at the mention of his name.

As Kyo makes his nervous way to the hospital, the size and shape of the panels reflect his mental state. They’re cramped, dark, and dominated by his inner monologue. “Do I really still like her? What do I like about her?” We catch incomplete glimpses of the things Kyo passes on his journey, because he is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he too is hardly noticing them. Finally he arrives at the hospital, and the tension as he catches Uotani’s eye is palpable.

And then… Tohru appears and the world falls away. Suddenly, everything is so clear. The doubts are wiped away as if they have never been, because the minute he sees her, it is so very simple. “I love her.” Even as Kyo’s focus narrows to include only Tohru, the pages still have a wide-open and airy feeling that suggests gentleness and infinite possibility. This is the first time Kyo has really allowed himself to acknowledge these feelings, and it’s so beautifully done that it gives me goosebumps.

MJ: Oh, absolutely, I have the same reaction here! Everything you’ve said about the size and tone of the panels is exactly spot-on. Also, watching Kyo’s face the few times we see it is striking, panel-to-panel. His first expression, as he’s approaching the hospital, is one of extreme trepidation, and it feels to me that he’s sort of hiding behind his bangs. He doesn’t want to be seen by anyone, especially someone like Uotani, whose gaze he reacts so intensely to. He’s terrified of his own feelings and of screwing things up, and he knows that he’s historically bad at dealing with emotional situations. He’s simply terrified on all fronts.

Then, when he sees Tohru, all of that just drops away, leaving him with an expression of pure longing and vulnerability we’ve really not seen on him before. Just as the air opens up, so does Kyo, completely unguarded for one long moment. It’s really stunning. I think both of these scenes we’ve chosen would play just the same with all the text removed—they’re so much driven by the emotion in the artwork.

MICHELLE: Longing, vulnerability and sheer wonder, I think. :)

And yes, I think we have a knack for picking scenes where text is not really necessary. Even here, body language is certainly telling a lot of the story for us, even in small ways like Kyo’s tensed, half-flexed arm and clenched fist as he finally reaches his destination. You can almost see him willing himself to get through this without messing up.

MJ: There’s just so much emotional nuance here, in every panel. When I’m reading scenes like this in context, these are details I don’t consciously notice as I let the emotions just sweep me along, but when we actually take the time to break it down like this, I can’t help but be amazed by how much thought has gone into each line on the page.

MICHELLE: Me too. It sounds like we’ve convinced ourselves that, yet again, Fruits Basket is awesome.

MJ: Indeed we have!

MICHELLE: Thank you, MJ, for joining me once again! And to those reading this column. Do you have a favorite artistic moment in Fruits Basket? Tell us about it in the comments!

Manga the week of 8/3

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Sorry for the list being a day late, Midtown didn’t update their Viz info right away and I wanted to ensure that I had the right titles there. (And no, still no Kodansha at Midtown.)

It’s a first week of the month, always the biggest. What have we got? Well, we’ve got the 2nd Card Captor Sakura omnibus from Dark Horse, finally staggering in after the usual eight or nine publishing delays. If it’s anything like Volume 1 was, it will be worth the wait – the series is fantastic, and DH’s reprint was flawless and worth a buy.

Presspop has an interesting release: the 1934 robot manga Tank Tankuro, a pioneering entry in almost everything. It’s an expensive hardcover with a slipcase, but with that sort of pedigree I imagine you want to pimp it a bit.

Vertical is cruising along in their release of Black Jack, with Volume 15 getting released next week. It originally ran in Weekly Shonen Champion, back when the magazine was not a haven for the lowest that manga has to offer. Of course, Black Jack is not afraid to get into some deep waters itself…

As always, the bulk of the week of Viz. We have a huge PILE of stuff. Most important to me is the 23rd volume of Gintama, which is the last currently scheduled in the States. It’s a low seller, and unlike other Viz low sellers, it’s shown no signs of ending in Japan anytime soon. So Viz is calling this the ‘Final Volume!’. Which it isn’t. Perhaps JManga might try continuing it there? Heh… In any case, Gintama, you were fantastically underrated, and I shall miss you.

There is, of course, a lot of new Jump manga that isn’t ending. Yu-Gi-Oh GX. Tegami Bachi. Slam Dunk. Nura: Rise of the Yokai Clan. Bakuman. And Bleach, getting another 3-in-1 omnibus. Speaking of those, Fullmetal Alchemist gets another one as well, despite being the redheaded stepchild of this pack, being a Shonen Gangan title.

The shoujo end of the spectrum holds even more gems. New Ai Ore!, for Mayu Shinjo fans and apparently no one else. Haruka Beyond the Stream of Time 13, for readers who have difficulty getting to sleep at night. New Kaze Hikaru, for whose who wondered if Viz was trying to quietly bury it behind the forge. And new Otomen, where I’ll bet you two to one we’ll have no idea what Ryo is thinking.

In non-sarcastic manga out this week, we have new volumes of Kamisama Kiss, Natsume’s Book of Friends (which should be catching up with Japan soon at this rate…), Sakura Hime, the Story of Saiunkoku, and the penultimate volume of Seiho Boys’ High School.

And, in non-manga news, Archie Comics releases its big 400-page Best Of Archie Comics digest. I raise an eyebrow, as I’ve seen Archie’s idea of best-ofs before, but will let you know how it is.

Busy week! What are you getting?

3 Things Thursday: Fruits Basket Favorites

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It’s Manga Moveable Feast time once again, which so often inspires me to think about 3 things. This week, I have with me a special guest for 3 Things Thursday, Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith, who, like me, is a big fan of this month’s MMF topic, Natsuki Takaya’s shoujo epic Fruits Basket.

We’ve already talked at length about the series as a whole, but one thing we’d like to linger on just a little bit longer is some discussion of our very favorite characters in the series. Fruits Basket is a treasure trove of complex, deeply moving characters, each of which could easily inspire hours of discussion. We don’t have hours, but we do have some favorites, and this seemed like the ideal time to share them. We’ve each picked three, so let’s start with Michelle’s! (Click images to enlarge.)

Michelle’s 3 Favorite Fruits Basket Characters

1. Yuki Sohma – My love for Yuki springs largely from a sense of pride in how much he blossoms over the course of the series. As he recounts the story of his childhood to Manabe, Yuki says, “There was something I wanted… loving parents… a home that no one would ever want to leave. A happy home. A warm place… with everyone smiling at me.” But Yuki was denied this. His parents valued him not for himself, but as a tool to gain favor within the Sohma family. Family members revered and reviled him just because of his status as the rat, something he had no control over. Even when he left the main house to live with Shigure and attend high school, the other students saw him not for himself, but as a princely figure.

Only Tohru saw and accepted the real Yuki. And once he found that with her, once he had that warm and happy home, he was finally able to move beyond the past and begin figuring out what kind of person he wanted to be in the future. One of my favorite Yuki moments occurs directly on the heels of his conversation with Manabe, where Yuki articulates his desire to give support to someone in the future, not just receive it.

2. Ayame Sohma – As a teenager, Ayame was self-absorbed and didn’t realize, until Hatori pointed it out to him, that the things he said and did could actually hurt other people. One of those he hurt was Yuki, who had reached out to him as someone he might be able to tell about his unhappy life as Akito’s companion. Ayame failed him then, but now regrets that deeply and tries his best to form a relationship with the little brother whom he once ignored. Sure, he’s kooky and outlandish, but he’s also absolutely sincere in his love for Yuki, and little by little wins his confidence.

My favorite Ayame moment occurs in volume thirteen, when he interrupts the parent-teacher conference Yuki and his mother are attending, deflects all of their mother’s hostility onto himself, and helps Yuki find the courage to tell her that he will be the one deciding his own fate. I also love that Ayame immediately texts Hatori to let him know Yuki said he is reliable.

3. Hatori Sohma – Hatori, the quietly suffering woobie. How I love him. There are no shortage of sad characters with painful backgrounds in Fruits Basket, but the first such story we learn about in detail involves Hatori and Kana, a special, optimistic woman who loved Hatori and accepted him, curse and all. What she couldn’t accept was the guilt after Akito reacted violently to their relationship and severely wounded Hatori, putting him in the dreadful position of eventually wiping all of her memories of their time together in order to ease her suffering. Because this revelation occurs so early in the series, everything Hatori does from that point on is tinged with sadness as we know what he’s gone through. He’s also the only one who can reign in Ayame’s enthusiasm or dare to talk with Shigure about his schemes.

So, while I wouldn’t exactly call this my favorite Hatori memory, it’s certainly an indelible one.

MJ’s 3 Favorite Fruits Basket Characters

1. & 2. Arisa Uotani & Saki Hanajima – Like David, I’m a sucker for great female friendships, and no friends could be greater than Fruits Basket‘s Uotani and Hanajima. Though they are each fantastic characters in their own right, nothing beats them as a team, looking after (and being looked after by) their dearest treasure in the world, Tohru Honda. They’re happiest as a trio, of course, but fiercest as a deadly duo that doesn’t take crap from anyone. Not that Takaya limits them to a life of badassery, mind you. They’re also just as kind, broken, and unexpectedly vulnerable as anyone else in the series, and that’s saying quite a bit. I would happily read an entire series chronicling the lives of Uotani and Hanajima, their adventures, loves, and triumphs as young adults and beyond. They’re just that awesome.

Still, I admit I love them best when they’re kicking ass. Don’t you?

3. Momiji Sohma – And should one require more evidence that David and I share a brain, my third favorite character in the series—and my very favorite Sohma—is little rabbit Momiji. We meet Momiji as a hoppity, cheerful boy, but it isn’t long before we learn that he’s one tough kid. Having watched his own mother beg to have her memories of him erased, he lives as a stranger from her, keeping a brotherly eye on his little sister from afar, whom he hopes he might one day be allowed to spend time with. He’s also the first person to put himself between Akito and Tohru—a favor Tohru returns in kind.

Though Momiji is at his best when he’s happy (and awesomely brave when he’s being rebellious), one of my very favorite Momiji moments is this scene from volume eleven. After standing up to Akito, against the grain of their supernatural bond, and watching Tohru, in turn, stand up for him, he finds himself suddenly overcome by being just a kid, unable to hold back his tears. It’s a rare glimpse at the most vulnerable side of Momiji, and I dare you not to tear up when reading it in context.

Readers, which three characters from Fruits Basket do you love best? Let us know in comments!

MMF: Why Fruits Basket?

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With almost every installment of the Manga Moveable Feast, we tend to ask the question, “Why this particular title?” In the case of Natsuki Takaya’s Fruits Basket, published in English over the course of 23 volumes by Tokyopop, I think the answer is complex.

First of all, it’s almost always interesting to dig into a cultural phenomenon. In the period between the initial English-language publication of Sailor Moon by Tokyopop and its upcoming republication by Kodansha, Fruits Basket was the most commercially successful shôjo manga and one of the most commercially successful manga, period.

Many people have made the argument that romantic fantasy for a female audience tends to be critically undervalued. Commercially successful romantic fantasy for a female audience adds another potential disclaimer for a book’s artistic value. Fruits Basket wasn’t just primarily for girls, but girls liked it a lot. And they bought as many copies of it as boys did of manga they liked. What’s that about? Or, at least that sometimes seems like the psychological subtext.

And Fruits Basket, which originally ran in Hakusensha’s Hana to Yume, is difficult to quantify. It’s shares a number of qualities with more generic manga of its category – an optimistic but kind of dingbat heroine, two hunky boys engaged in a rivalry for her attentions, a seemingly cutesy curse, and so on. But Takaya approaches that material with quite a bit of craft and emotional ruthlessness. She doesn’t brutalize her characters (or her readers), but she doesn’t spare them much. It’s not a creepy, “suffering and terror are hot” kind of approach; it’s more of a fluid, applied grasp of the nature of tragedy. Fruits Basket has scale. If the aesthetic were less contemporary-casual, the Takarazuka Revue could operetta up this sprawling epic.

It takes a while for things to fall into place, to be honest. Initially, the series seems like what its cover blurb describes: a story about a plucky orphan who moves in with a family of hot guys who are living under a curse! They turn into animals represented in the Chinese Zodiac when they’re hugged by someone of the opposite sex! Eventually, though, the cutesy sheen of the curse gives way to the profound dysfunction and deep, deep pain of the Sohma family. And the ditsy charm of Tohru Honda, the outsider in the tearstained zoo, resolves into resolve and force and generosity of spirit.

I hope you’ll give a few volumes a try. My plan for the week is to focus on some of my favorite moments from the series and to keep a running tally of each day’s posts, if posts there are. I’m looking forward to the contributions of anyone who cares to do so.

Previous Manga Moveable Feasts:

 

Magazine no Mori

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Welcome to the newly named Magazine no Mori, where I will try to guide you through the dark tangled forest of Japanese Manga magazines and, hopefully, we’ll discover some wondrous manga truffles along the way. (Was that pushing the metaphor a little too far? I think it might have been.)

As much as I consume a ridiculous amount of manga and of manga magazines, my tastes run to the fringes of all typical categories of manga. Of shounen, shoujo, seinen and josei, the manga I read the least is the most popular – the shounen.

So it was some suprise to me that Shounen Sunday really is all that and a bag of chips.^_^

Of course I had heard of Shounen Sunday. I just hadn’t ever given it any thought. When I finally cracked the covers, I was instantly greeted by series that I, and you, will be familiar with.

First published in 1959, Shounen Sunday has a 2010 monthly circulation of 678,917. At a cover price of 260 yen per volume ($3.31 at the time of writing) for more than 450 pages, you’re getting a page and a half of manga per cent spent.

And, oh, what you are spending those cents on! The names that write for Shounen Sunday are, well, legendary. Prominent among them are Adachi Mitsuru (Asaoka Kouko Yakyuubu Nisshi), Takahashi Rumiko (Rinne), Watase Yuu (Arata Kangatari ~Engaku Kougatari~). These run alongside series that are probably better known over here by title than by their creators’ names, such as Takashi Shiina’s Zettai Karen Children, Hata Kenjiro’s Hayate no Gotoku (known in the west as Hayate the Combat Butler), Wakaki Tamiki’s Kami nomi zo Shiru Sekai (known as The World Only God Knows) and Aoyama Gosho’s Detective Conan (known here as Case Closed).

Weekly Shounen Sunday has a website in Japanese with news, interviews and “backstage” with the manga artists, links to collected volumes, and other typical magazine “stuff.” In addition, Viz has an English-language site for “Shonen Sunday” where you can find downloads, creator profiles and series synopses.

Despite the somewhat irksome persistence of misogynistic “service” (breast groping, nipples visible under clothes and crotch shots), this magazine is undoubtedly targeted to boys who plan on becoming immature man-boys in the future. I’d love to love Sunday, but it’s hard to see past the “Boys Only, Girlz Stay Away” sign on the treehouse door.

This is particularly frustrating, as Sunday’s pages are replete with very cool baseball, soccer and other non-dating sim-esque manga inside. If the service was notched back a few degrees, I might add this to my monthly rotation. As it is, I think I’ll pass.

As a box of chocolates, while there are a whole lot of caramel and peanut treats inside, there’s just a few too many yucky jellies for my taste. But your taste may vary. ^_^

Weekly Shounen Sunday, by Shogakukan

BL Bookrack: July 2011

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Welcome to the July installment of BL Bookrack! This month, MJand Michelle take a look at three offerings from Digital Manga Publishing’s Juné imprint, including two from mangaka Kazuma Kodaka—the debut volume of Border and volume three of the Kizuna deluxe editions—as well as the first volume of Akira Honma’s Rabbit Man, Tiger Man. Michelle also checks out Shushushu Sakurai’s JUNK! from DramaQueen.

Border, Vol. 1 | By Kazuma Kodaka | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – Yamato heads a private detective agency staffed by handsome men who will stop at nothing for their clients, even if it means consistently usurping the police. They’ll also stop at nothing to get into bed with Yamato, some in a platonic way, some not so much. Yamato is a playboy who will sleep with nearly any guy once, but he’s haunted by the memory of someone he lost. Also, Yamato was once some kind of secret agent, when he wasn’t taking care of a group of boys he grew up with back at the orphanage.

If that intro sounds disjointed, it’s for a reason. There’s a lot going on in Border, and it doesn’t all mesh as well as one might hope. Is it a smart, sexy story about gay male detectives? Is it a character-driven exploration of love and loss? Is it a heartwarming tale of self-made families and brotherly love? Yes and no, for though this volume tries very hard to be all three of these things at some point or another, ultimately it fails to succeed fully at any of them.

That’s not to say that Border isn’t worthwhile. Rather, it feels like a work-in-progress, still feeling around for its place. Yamato is an intriguing and well-developed character, and his history and dynamic with his coworkers is by far the most compelling aspect of the series, and though it is frustrating that we get so little of it in this volume, that bodes well for the series continuing forward. Even the story’s mild case of everyone-is-gay (or at least gay for Yamato) doesn’t feel like a problem here, with Yamato’s detective agency basically functioning as a group of close friends in need of an excuse to spend all their time together in order to ignore most of the rest of the world. Kodaka’s artwork, too, is a highlight, expressive and carefully skirting the line between pretty and too pretty.

The only potential deal-breaker here is Kodaka’s treatment of her female characters. The series begins with a case involving women who are basically being raped in the name of porn. Women in refrigerators is never a great way to begin a story, and Kodaka takes things one step further by making the villain in that case a (jealous) woman as well. Hopefully this is not an indicator of things to come.

-Review by MJ

JUNK! | By Shushushu Sakurai | Published by DramaQueen | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy from DramaQueen – “Junk,” as the opening pages tell us, refers to ambiguous DNA whose purpose is as yet undiscovered. It’s also the name of our inscrutable and rugged protagonist, a “free agent” who has been contacted by the mysterious X, who threatens to blow up an upcoming international symposium unless Junk agrees to lead him to a heretical religious leader called Nagil.

Junk agrees to work with X, and when his employers betray him by crashing the rendez-vous and attempting to take X—actually a wanted criminal named Cross—into custody, Junk whisks him away to a safe house, where things quickly turn sexual between them. After bonding (again, quickly) over similar pasts as subjects of genetic experimentation, Cross and Junk work together to take out Nagil.

This is quite a lot of plot for a BL one-shot, and Sakurai scores points for sheer ambition. Ultimately, though, JUNK! reads a lot like one of those Harlequin manga adaptations, where many plot details are skimmed over and everything happens so fast that it’s hard to really buy into any of it. Cross doesn’t have much expression or personality, so when he abruptly decides that he wants Junk, readers have no idea why. Love declarations are likewise sudden, and the fact that they happen while one of the characters is dangling over the edge of a cavern doesn’t really help with the believability.

Insubstantial and a bit cheesy, yes, and rather too detailed in certain areas for my personal preference, but JUNK! really isn’t a bad read. If you’re interested, do check it out—DramaQueen could certainly use the revenue!

-Review by Michelle Smith

Kizuna Deluxe Edition, Vol. 3 | By Kazuma Kodaka | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – I am so glad I continued beyond that first, uneven volume of Kizuna, because it improved so drastically that I now eagerly anticipate each new, double-sized release.

What makes Kizuna so special is that it is a shining example of BL that is more than just a romance. There can be no doubt that long-time couple Kei Enjouji—illegitimate son of a yakuza who wants nothing to do with his father or his organization—and Ranmaru Samejima—a former kendo champ injured during an attempt on Kei’s life—are seriously in love, but there is also quite a lot of genuine suspense as yakuza drama keeps intruding upon their life together.

In this volume, Kei has been captured and badly beaten by yakuza with a grudge against his family, and a desperately worried Ranmaru teams up with Kei’s half-brother, Kai, to find him. The situation is milked for every bit of possible melodrama, but in the best possible way, culminating in a tense standoff between Ranmaru—who shows that his kendo prowess is still very much intact—and the guilty party. Once Kei has been taken to a hospital, the tone shifts to something more light-hearted, with a frankly adorable marriage proposal.

Aside from the storytelling, another thing that sets Kizuna apart is the way it’s drawn. It’s not particularly pretty, and features simple page layouts with multiple small panels. Although characters occasionally comment on Ranmaru’s loveliness, he is certainly no willowy bishounen, and other character designs include massive and stern Masa, Kai’s protector and unrequited/not really unrequited love interest, and Jack, a middle-aged, beak-nosed, hairy-chested assassin.

Kizuna is clearly a classic for a reason. If you’re a BL fan, I’d go so far as to call this required reading.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Rabbit Man, Tiger Man, Vol. 1 | By Akira Honma | Published by Juné | Rated YA (16+) | Buy at Akadot – Young surgeon Uzuki gets more than he bargains for when he chooses to treat the gunshot wound of a gangster in the street. The yakuza, up-and-coming boss Nonami, delirious from blood loss, remembers little detail about the incident afterwards, but has developed a case of Florence Nightingale syndrome regarding his rescuer, whom he believes to have been female. What happens when he finds out the truth?

On one hand, the first volume of Rabbit Man, Tiger Man feels like a collection of some of the genre’s most tired clichés. A brilliant, manly, totally heterosexual hunk accidentally falls for a timid, pretty, totally heterosexual little guy, who of course is quickly smitten back, to the point that he basically manipulates the hunk into ravishing him (only semi-consensually, at least on the surface) so that he doesn’t have to admit that he’s turned on. Pretty much everything I dislike most about typical seme/uke tropes is featured prominently in this manga, which should be enough to send me running far, far away as quickly as possible.

On the other hand, this manga isn’t quite the sum of its clichés. Even within their rigidly defined roles, both Uzuki and Nonami display glimmers of actual complexity, especially Uzuki, whose frustration with the treatment he receives as a young resident suggests that his job may be more that simply a shallow plot device. Unfortunately, like so many BL tankobon, a full quarter of the volume is given over to an unrelated secondary story (in this case featuring both rape and the vilification of its female characters—not exactly a winning combo for this reviewer), leaving its title tale sadly underdeveloped.

Can this series overcome its tired beginnings? We’ll have to wait for the next volume to find out.

-Review by MJ

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Disclosure: MJ is currently under contract with Digital Manga Publishing’s Digital Manga Guild, as necessitated for her ongoing report Inside the DMG. Any compensation earned by MJin her role as an editor with the DMG will be donated to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund.

Manga the week of 7/27

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Right, Midtown is really starting to irritate me. I don’t know where their distributor has wandered off to, but the Kodansha titles are just passing them by. With that in mind…

Stuff that’s come out from Kodansha but hasn’t hit Midtown in the last 2 months: Well, we have (deep breath) Air Gear 18 (back to single volumes), The Wallflower 25 (ditto), Negima Neo 7 (the final volume, and thank God for that), and Sayonara Zetsubou-sensei 9. Reviews of Zetsubou and Wallflower are already on my site. That’s June.

From July, we have out already the 14th volume of Fairy Tail, the 3rd of the blogger favorite Arisa, the final volume of Shugo Chara proper (the last volume is a collection of the sequel, Shugo Chara Encore), and a new Ninja Girls, which is… not a blogger favorite. Those came out today.

Next week, from Diamond but not Midtown, we have the 30th volume of Mahou Sensei Negima!. It’s in the middle of a kickass arc that doesn’t let up. And while I can’t confirm this (as I didn’t order it), we may see the new Deltora Quest as well. Hey, Midtown! Fix this!

Rant over, so what *is* Midtown getting in? Well, there’s the 6th volume of Gurren Lagann, from Dengeki Daioh. There’s also a large stack of stuff from Digital Manga Publishing, who apparently finished a bunch of Taiyo Tosho stuff at once. All one-volume sets, with such suggestive titles as I Give To You, This Night’s Everything, and Entangled Circumstances. All these come from their two yaoi magazines, Hertz and Craft.

(Side note to DMP: If you license one more yaoi manga where a seme has one hand cupping the chin of his lover while the uke is staring back at him with this sort of tortured ‘do what you will, you callous ruffian of my heart’ look, I shall be very cross with you indeed.)

And that’s it. What appeals to you this week?

The Josei Alphabet: Y

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“Y” is for…

Yami no Koe, written and illustrated by Junji Ito, originally serialized in Asahi Sonorama’s Nemuki, one volume: Another collection of horror shorts from one of the genre’s masters. I love how horror is one of the most popular sub-genres of josei.

Yasha, written and illustrated by Akimi Yoshida, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Betsucomi (shôjo) and Flowers (josei), 12 volumes: A gifted kid’s mother is murdered, and he’s subsequently kidnapped. He returns to his home town, a small island off of Okinawa, six years later with a title (doctor), an entourage of bodyguards, and a whole lot of secrets. More presumably sexy mystery from the creator of Banana Fish, this won a Shogakukan prize in 2002.

Yoru Café, written and illustrated by Maki Enjouji, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, three volumes: A widow inherits a café and its harem of handsome male employees. Manga about eateries with hunky staff members is almost always made of more win than lose.

Yukan Kurabu, written and illustrated by Yukari Ichijo, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Ribon (shôjo) and Chorus (josei), 19 volumes: The quirky offspring of three famous men (a police commissioner, an ambassador, and a painter) solve crimes to pass the time. There are few things I love more than quirky people solving crimes because they’re bored.

Yuru Koi, written and illustrated by Aki Yoshino, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, one volume: This meet-cute romance is about a woman who moves back home after quitting her job and a guy who seems to be jerky but probably isn’t. I just love the cover. It glows.

Josei magazines:

  • You, published by Shueisha
  • Young You, published by Shueisha

What starts with “Y” in your josei alphabet?

3 Things Thursday: Out of my dreams

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Though my commute to work is too short to allow the consumption of podcasts in a timely manner, over the past few days, I’ve been slowly working my way through the latest installment of Ed Sizemore’s Manga Out Loud, featuring Takako Shimura’s Wandering Son. I still have a ways to go, but one of the topics that has engaged me deeply so far has been discussion of Shuichi’s nightmares in the book, and what they reveal about his fears and his state of mind as he works through his discomfort and disconnection with his biologically assigned gender.

I rambled on a lot about this in comments to the entry, mainly because the harshness of his later nightmare in the volume resonated so strongly with me personally and the nature of my own worst nightmares.

The truth is, I’m pretty obsessed with dreams and dream worlds (pleasant or otherwise) and always have been, and while many works of fiction use dreams as a narrative device, it’s not all that often that they use them in a way that really rings true to me. Obviously, what “rings true” to me in a dream sequence is going to be largely informed by my own dream experiences and may not reflect the experiences of others, but this is an area in which Shimura’s vision of her character’s dreams really shines. I’ll probably have more to say about this as I discuss the series further, but in the meantime, let’s have ourselves a 3 Things Thursday!

3 manga series that heavily (and effectively) make use of dreams

1. After School Nightmare | Setona Mizushiro | Go! Comi – One of my greatest regrets will always be that I could not find the time to participate in the Manga Moveable Feast for this title, because I have a lot to say about it, not the least of which would be regarding its use of shared nightmares as its primary plot device. In these students’ nightmares, they each appear as manifestations of their darkest secrets, and while, as Erica Friedman points out in the Wandering Son podcast, these secrets tend to come from a place of self-loathing, the line between what we fear about ourselves and what we fear other people think of us is often a pretty difficult one to draw. It took me a long time to realize that the horrible things people say about me in my nightmares are less often what I fear they think of me and more what I secretly fear about myself. It’s me writing the script, after all. This is a distinction that After School Nightmare completely gets, and that has a lot to do with why I found it so effective as a dream-based manga. Furthermore, it uses its nightmare setting as a metaphor for the state of being a teenager, when emotional vulnerability to one’s peers is more terrifying than anything else the subconscious mind could possibly dream up.

2. Please Save My Earth | Saki Hiwatari | Viz Media – Probably I’ve already talked this one to death in my recent discussion with Michelle at The Hooded Utilitarian, but moving to the happier side of dream fantasy, nothing can possibly beat Saki Hiwatari’s Please Save My Earth, in which a group of teenagers discover through a series of shared dreams (is there a theme here?) that they are the collective reincarnation of a group of alien scientists sent to study Earth from the Moon. Unlike After School Nightmare, this series resonates more strongly with the best dreams of my youth and the sense that our dream worlds might be just as real as our waking lives. This was a recurring theme in my childhood, and Please Save My Earth is in many ways a perfect representation of my own deepest pre-teen fantasies. Interestingly, like After School Nightmare, this series also touches on questions of gender identity, though it fails to dig as deeply, and of course neither approach the subject with the same kind of maturity as Wandering Son.

3. xxxHolic | CLAMP | Del Rey Manga – Though this is a manga that hooked me long before its use of dreams as a major narrative device, there are few examples that I love more. From Watanuki’s frequent dream-based encounters with Doumeki’s grandfather to his complete inability to maintain his waking consciousness throughout some of the later volumes, CLAMP’s use of dreams in this series is emotionally and narratively spectacular. This series goes further than either of the others in questioning the concept of reality vs. dreams, as it plunges Watanuki from waking to dreaming and back again, leaving both he and us disoriented as to which is which much of the time. It’s revealing and immersive, which is what makes it so effective for me. Also? Kinda gorgeous.

Readers, do you have favorite dream-based manga?

Manga the week of 7/20

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After the first two weeks of July were very busy, this third week, as is traditional with comic shops, is fairly quiet. (Quick note: Midtown, where I get my list from, is very behind in getting Kodansha Comics. My shop (not Midtown) lists Fairy Tail 14 as coming in next week, and I suspect that means Arisa 3, Ninja Girls 6 and Shugo Chara 11 might also show up via Diamond. But we won’t know till Monday.)

First off, Bandai has a new one-volume Code Geass spinoff, Tales of An Alternate Shogunate. It’s essentially Code Geass in 1853, assuming that 1853 had giant mecha. It ran in one of Kadokawa’s media magazines, Kerokero Ace, but does not feature anyone from Sgt. Frog. I think.

Udon’s line of child-friendly manga never really got as much attention as it probably deserved. They licensed several titles from Japanese publisher Poplar, which specializes in the ‘kodomo’ genre, aka manga for children ages 3-6. The longest title Udon picked up was the 5-volume magical girl manga The Big Adventures of Majoko, and its final volume hits shelves next week.

Vertical has Volume 8 of its quietly fantastic space manga Twin Spica. Which I believe is actually the 2nd half of 8 and all of 9 in Japan, as Vertical is starting to release these in longer chunks. Very much worth your money in any case.

And Viz has its prestige items. La Quinta Camera is the latest in Viz’s quest to license everything by Natsume Ono they possibly can (that is not either yaoi or owned by Kodansha). This ran, like Not Simple did, in Penguin Shobo’s magazine Comic SEED!, and from the reviews I’ve read I expect I will enjoy it quite a bit.

The 6th volume of Ooku is also coming out. This runs in the Japanese magazine Melody, which tends to straddle the line between shoujo and josei so much that folks get confused. A good rule of thumb is to see which imprint the collected editions come out under. Gatcha Gacha, for example, ran in Melody and was put out under the Hana to Yume imprint. Hence, shoujo. Ooku, on the other hand, comes out in the much sleeker and more adult Jets imprint. This one’s josei. Enjoyable no matter where it slots, however.

Lastly, there’s the 10th VIZBIG Edition of samurai thriller Vagabond, which I believe is the last until Japan gets a few more volumes out, as I think the collections have almost caught up with the individual volumes.

Anything appealing to you yet?

The Josei Alphabet: X

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“X” is for…

Xenosaga Episode 1, written and illustrated by Atsushi Baba, based on a video game series developed by NAMCO, originally serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum, three volumes: No one really expected the letter “X” to be a treasure trove, did they? But it does give us reassurance that josei magazines can be just as much a part of the anime-manga-game-other sausage factory as any other demographic. If asked to identify a josei publisher that seems intent on reaching a wider audience, I would have to point at Ichijinsha, with its Comic Zero-Sum and Zero-Sum Ward. I could fairly be accused of neglecting Ichijinsha properties in this alphabet; I tend to skim over them because so many of their covers look the same to me, and so many of their plots sound the same to me. (I always feel like I’m reading solicitations from an alternate-universe Image Comics from late 1990s.) That said, it’s awesome that there are at least two comic magazines aimed at adult women that focus on fantasy, adventure, and science fiction. I would assume that Xenosaga Episode 1 follows the plot of the game, which involves a bunch of different factions trying to control a mysterious and powerful artifact called the Zohar on a version of Earth called “Lost Jerusalem.”

What starts with “X” in your josei alphabet?

 

Manga the week of 7/13

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It’s a good second week of the month for manga, seeing a hefty but not overwhelming amount of stuff coming from Midtown Comics (which still seems to have misplaced June’s Kodansha releases that Diamond and bookstores already have, by the way).

Seven Seas gets to Volume 10 of its bestselling title Dance in the Vampire Bund, one of the few things they have that’s not a Dengeki work. It comes from Media Factory’s Comic Flapper. There’s also the second volume of romantic comedy Toradora!, which *is* from Dengeki Daioh, and features possibly the most popular of the four ‘loli tsunderes’ that all arrived at the same time (for the curious, the other three are Shana, Louise and Nagi).

Viz has its ‘Oh, right, we also put out Shonen Sunday stuff’ second week, and the big news here is the 4th volume in the Cross Game omnibus, which has now reached its halfway point. There’s the 39th volume of Case Closed, which is really quite impressive given how it has to compete with all those Jump titles. The 6th volume of Rin-Ne will no doubt make us all keep hoping that Sakura will actually get mad at something. New volumes of Hyde & Closer and Kurosakuro, both Vol. 5. And for Pokemon fans, two volumes of the new Black and White series, 96 pages each.

Yen Press also rolls out their July releases. The 4-koma series Ichiroh! ends here with Volume 5. Cirque Du Freak is up to Vol. 10 for you Darren Shan fans. High School of the Dead would like to remind you that yes, it is technically a shonen title, at least in Japan. Speaking of genre, what genre to call Kobato, which runs in media magazine Newtype. The fanboy genre? But of course, the big titles for yen are the Square Enix ones from GFantasy. Black Butler and Pandora Hearts, which are both smash hits. And Nabari no Ou, which… isn’t a smash hit. But has ninjas, so should be doing better than it is.

Anything interesting you? Or will you be catching up with the pile that came in this week?

The Josei Alphabet: W

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“W” is for…

Waltz wa Shiori Dress de, written and illustrated by Chiho Saitou, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Flowers, four volumes: At the turn of the 20th century, a young Japanese woman is fascinated with European clothing and wants to become a designer. Unfortunately, she’s on the fast track towards a career-free life in an arranged marriage. At least she is until she meets a half-English, half-Indian spy at an embassy ball.

Watashi no Atama no Nakano Keshigomu, written and illustrated by Masami Hoshino, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, one volume: When people use the phrase “This will end in tears,” they could apparently be referring to this adaptation of a popular TV drama about young lovers who enter into a tragic romance.

Watashi no Naka no Kiseki, adapted by JET, based on a novel by Liz Fielding, originally serialized in Ohzora Shuppan’s Harleqin, one volume. A working woman tries to fend off her horrible, misogynist boss by inventing a fake boyfriend. Suing him for discrimination and harassment is apparently out of the question?

Water., written and illustrated by Kiriko Nananan, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, one volume: Two yuri-themed stories from the creator of Blue (Fanfare/Ponent Mon).

Wine Glass no Mukou ni, adapted by Junko Sasaki, based on a novel by Rebecca Winters, originally published by Harlequinsha, one volume: A wine buyer lets the romantic beauty of Alsace affect her better judgment and falls into bed with an entirely unsuitable gentleman. I thought that was why people toured vineyards in the first place?

Licensed josei:

  • Walkin’ Butterfly, written and illustrated by Chihiro Tamaki, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Vanilla, four volumes, three of which were published in English by Aurora.
  • Wedding Eve, written and illustrated by Keiko Honda, originally serialized in Ohzora Shuppan’s Roma Roma, one volume, published in English by Central Park Media.
  • Wild Com., written and illustrated by Yumi Tamura, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Flowers, one volume, published in English by Viz Media.
  • Works, written and illustrated by Eriko Tadeno, one volume, published in English by ALC Publishing.

What starts with “W” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

3 Things Thursday: Characterization & Emotional Truth

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Though I rarely wax nostalgic over flame wars, I’ll admit that searching for the comment I quoted in yesterday’s “Soapbox” post led me to revisit the material that inspired it. I won’t reiterate the entire argument here, or even my entire premise, but here’s a brief excerpt that I think expresses quite well what my purpose is in experiencing and writing about fiction:

“My focus as a reader/critic/human being is now and always will be discussion/analysis of a work’s emotional content. That is what I know about, and that is what I’m most interested in and qualified to write about. That is what my background prepares me for. That is what I care about in the world. The real purpose of fiction in my life is that it gives me the opportunity to interact directly with someone else’s inner life. This is not only what I find most compelling about other people, but I’d even go so far as to say it’s the way I best connect with the human race as a whole. It’s is a delicious smorgasbord of humanity. It’s where people communicate what’s most important to them, often even within formulaic structures and “fluff” pieces. It is, on a very basic level, a window into another person’s soul.”

Let me elaborate just a little on that. Like a lot of voracious readers, I’m a fairly introverted person. One of the side-effects of this is that I spent the vast majority of my growing years appreciating and cultivating my own inner life to a much greater extent than the one I physically shared with other people. This does not mean that I don’t like other people or don’t enjoy interacting with them. It does mean that I often find I understand other people more easily when I’m given the opportunity to examine their inner lives, and since I think understanding other people is a pretty vital part of life, I spend a lot of time doing that.

It is this, along with a number of other factors, that led to me spending most of my youth and a large chunk of my working adulthood as a singer and stage actress. As immersive as reading or watching fiction can be, there is nothing more revealing (and, frankly, thrilling) than exploring someone else’s inner world by actually becoming a player in it. It’s a transformative experience in every way, and I recommend it heartily, if not as a way of life, at least as an enlightening pastime.

I bring all this up, because I’ve previously mentioned that I think my approach as a manga critic is deeply informed by having been an actor, but I’ve never really explained what that means. What I mean when I say that, is that I think being an actor gave me some specific tools for understanding storytelling, particularly in terms of characterization and emotional truth (the two main elements I’m referring to when I mention “emotional content”), both of which are essential to effective, believable fiction, regardless of medium.

Now, to the point! All this has been a fairly long-winded introduction to this week’s 3 Things…

3 critical elements of characterization in storytelling I learned from The Theater:

1. Intention. I’m not here to argue acting technique, and frankly, I think a lot of it is pretty hit-or-miss, but I will say that out of all the various techniques I encountered during my years of study and professional work, the thing that consistently worked for me was a focus on intention. What do I want, and how do I get it? Nearly everything we do as human beings is motivated by intention, and this is true of fictional characters as well, at least the ones that are written effectively. One of the things I most enjoy looking at when I’m analyzing comics, is the intention of each of the story’s characters, and how consistently the author is able to maintain those intentions throughout the work. Certainly a particular character’s intention may change over the course of a series (and even within that, there is an intention in every moment that may actually, realistically conflict), but a strong writer will discover that her characters’ intentions are more important than her own when it comes to writing a believable story. Which brings us nicely to…

2. Truth. When asked if he preferred playing good guys or bad guys, Willem Dafoe is famously quoted as having said, “Ain’t no difference. Everybody thinks they’re righteous.” This is absolutely so, and a failure to recognize this fact is why so many stories that feature the concept of “good vs. evil” fail to ring true. People are masters of self-deception, and all of us will do what we convince ourselves is right, even if “right” translates as “right for us” or “the right way to avoid having to do things we don’t like.” Even if we say we did something we know is wrong, we’ve still justified to ourselves why we were “right” to do it anyway. That’s just what we do. It’s how we continue to go on. While humans as a society may strive (mostly unsuccessfully) to identify common truths, it’s clear to anyone who has spent five minutes watching the evening news that trying to lay out universal concepts of “good” and “evil” is beyond futile.

What’s not at all futile, however, is determining individual truth, and when it comes to characterization, this is vital. The best writers know how to separate their own personal truths (which may influence things like theme) from the individual truths of their characters, allowing each of them to exist truthfully and independently in the story. When something reads as out of character, most of the time it’s because the writer has forgotten this, or has tried to use a character as a shortcut to the writer’s own truth. This really never works. For an actor, this kind of writing is deadly, because it means she must take actions that are at odds with her intentions. This is no less deadly for a comic.

3. Show, don’t tell. But don’t “show” either. “Show, don’t tell,” is a pretty fantastic mandate. It instructs writers of all kinds to let both their own ideas and their characters’ intentions be revealed through action instead of narration or inner dialogue, and often an adherence to this directive is what makes the difference between a story that doesn’t work and one that does. But one thing actors learn pretty early on, is that sometimes “showing” can be just the same as “telling.” What I’m talking about here is what we’d refer to in high school acting class as “indicating.” When an actor is “indicating,” instead of doing something, she’s trying to show the audience that she’s doing something, essentially telling them what she feels by using familiar gestures or visual cues. For instance, instead of thinking, “I’m really sad,” and acting on her whatever her intention is from that point, she’s thinking, “I have to show the audience that I’m really sad,” and actually trying to make that her intention. You might think this works, but it doesn’t, because instead of watching the character, the audience is actually watching the actor, which is not the same thing at all, and will never read as true.

Comics creators can fall into the same trap, essentially using “showing” as “telling,” even without narration or dialogue. A writer may think he is carefully revealing his character’s thoughts and intentions in the manner of “show, not tell,” but because he’s so worried that the audience may not get it, he’s inserted some extra visual cues and emphasis, just to make sure, and before he knows it, he’s actually telling instead, even without using any words. This pulls us out of the character’s truth and into the author’s process, making the character less believable.

With a character’s truth and intention in place, any comic can be believable, whether it’s a deep look at the psychology of mountain climbers or a cracktastic boys’ love epic. Any type of story can be believable if it is rooted in emotional truth, and it is through these stories that we continue to understand and learn from each other as we struggle with the realities of our lives. Creating, distributing, and experiencing/interacting with art is the most powerful method we have for establishing human connection.

And that’s what I learned from the theater.

Don’t Fear the Adaptation: Summer Special

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This month Don’t Fear the Adaptation brings you a summer one-two combo of series that span the anime/manga/light novel trifecta: The Story of Saiunkoku and Shiki!

The Story of Sainkoku | Novel: Sai Yukino / Kadokawa | Manga: Kairi Yura / Kadokawa / Viz | Anime: Madhouse / Geneon (previous) / Funimation

The Story of Saiunkoku is a classic shoujo series if there ever was one. Its heroine, Shurei Hong, is a strong, hardworking girl determined to overcome the position she was squashed into, both with regard to her socioeconomic problems and her gender. She’s intelligent, insightful, caring, civic-minded, and just sassy enough to get her way. Its main male character, the Emperor Ryuki Shi, comes from a tortuous family history and is in need of exactly the qualities Shurei has to offer. Though he truly appreciates, even loves, Shurei, there’s an obstacle or three that keeps him from expressing those feelings. Not to mention, he has other things to worry about — like how to keep the country running. Add in a childhood friend with a mysterious background who rounds out the love triangle, some kibbitzing side characters, the glorious half-fantasy rendition of ancient China that is the country of Saiunkoku, and you have a formula for a successful shoujo story that’s been perfected since Rose of Versailles.

I don’t use that comparison lightly. As much as Rose of Versailles romanticized revolutionary France, The Story of Saiunkoku romanticizes ancient China in a way that is deeply familiar to anybody who grew up watching Chinese TV dramas. This isn’t a bad thing. The Story of Saiunkoku‘s aesthetic fits the story perfectly — flowing layered robes in brilliant colors, intricate hairstyles for the women and long luxurious hair for the men, patterned window lattices, pagodas a plenty, and enough flower petals to drown in. It’s vibrant and feminine without exaggeration. Madhouse’s animation, like Kairi Yura’s artwork, is solid but uninspiring, almost to the point of being dull. But Saiunkoku‘s strength is the political intrigue and the character dynamics which, together with a hint of the fantastical and the core of a romantic drama, make for an entertaining story.

David, Kate, MJ, and Michelle have all written about The Story of Saiunkoku‘s charm. The anime does justice to their compliments. The Story of Saiunkoku does what it’s supposed to, and does it well: a cast of likeable characters develop interesting relationships with each other which are then pitted against a meandering but straightforward plot. Shurei is a classic spunky anime heroine, all the way down to her relationship with her father (like so many anime and manga heroines, her mother is absent and she’s had to take care of the family). But The Story of Saiunkoku is a great example of why tropes aren’t necessarily a bad thing. Shurei is loveable because she embodies all the right traits. She’s a strong young woman, someone with her own troubles but is always sensitive to the troubles of others, someone who isn’t above getting angry when her pride is hurt but also genuinely supports the people she loves. She never glamorizes herself as a martyr, even when she’s bullied to the point of exhaustion. She’s the kind of Mary Sue that you want to aspire to, instead of snarking, and she’s definitely one of the strongest anime heroines I’ve seen in years.

What I found most intriguing about Ryuki was his multi-faceted personality. In front of his older brother, he’s vulnerable and adoring; in front of Shurei, he’s a lovesick fool. But when it comes to beating down kidnappers or running an imperial inquiry into corruption, he’s every bit the model emperor, with only his country’s wellbeing in mind. It’s not that he’s manipulative. Rather, you can tell he’s only survived so long by being calculating. As the series progresses, his inability to win over Shurei with tricks and ploys (and hard-boiled eggs) exposes him for the 19 year old he is inside, enthusiastic and well-meaning and more than a little clumsy. Is it just that we like to see a man with so much power reduced to putty in the hands of a mere girl? I know that’s certainly part of my amusement. Here Shurei is never just a damsel in distress depending on Ryuki. She even gives up a life of luxury as Ryuki’s consort in order to pursue her dreams. Shoujo heroines often pay lip service to a life framed around something other than romance, but Shurei actually lives that life. She never wanted Ryuki to fall in love with her; she’d always wanted to serve her country in any way she could. It’s just that love happened along the way.

The other characters are hit or miss, but mostly hits. Split three ways between his fondness for Ryuki, his dedication to Shouka and Shurei as an adopted son, and the torch he carries for Shurei’s affections, Seiran is just as calculating as Ryuki and, without Ryuki’s natural bubbliness, is far scarier. Koyu Li, the assistant secretary of Civil Affairs, is tragic, hotheaded, and heart-meltingly endearing in turns, and in another series could have managed to be the main character. Here, he and his good friend Shuei Ran, whose ladykiller air hides a competent general, are the mocking peanut gallery, almost always on screen as a pair, whether it be as a pair of the Emperor’s confidants or a pair of troublemakers. The Story of Saiunkoku does at times come off as a reverse harem. Don’t get me wrong, I like reverse harems just as much as the next person, but none of the female characters in the first season even come close to matching up to Shurei. While I adored meeting characters like Reishin, the sneaky but overly doting Minister of Civil Affairs who doubles as both Koyu’s adoptive father and Shurei’s uncle, and Kijin Kou, the eccentric masked Minister of Finance, Sakujun — the second oldest of Enjun Sa’s grandsons– is basically a less nuanced version of Ryuki, even in appearance, and Kuro is the least interesting of the three Hong brothers for sure. With a cast this large, there were bound to be a couple of duds, but I just wish there had been more female characters like Kouchou, the courtesan who, with equal equanimity, teaches Shurei how to wear makeup and runs Kiyou’s entire red light district.

Like all the best shoujo stories, The Story of Saiunkoku throws in plenty of humor, and the anime manages to slip in a few extra jokes. One of my favorite episodes is when Shurei falls ill and all the characters come out of the woodwork to wish her well, including an extra silly Reishin who sulks over the implication that one day his beloved niece will get married. I’m especially impressed with the anime’s restraint — there’s not a single super-deformed face for all thirty-nine episodes.

I’ve only read the first two volumes of the manga, but from what I can tell, the anime and manga do have differences, even from episode one. Some characters are introduced early in the anime, and scenes have been both added and rearranged. For instance, while in the manga, Shurei is relatively unaware that she is in danger of being poisoned, in the anime Ryuki is forced to explain the danger to her after she’s almost poisoned at a banquet. As a result, Shurei in the anime learns both about Ryuki’s troubled past and Ryuki pretending to be stupid much sooner than the manga Shurei. It’s hard to compare the entire first season of the anime to just two volumes of the manga, but if I have to make some comparison, I’d say there just seems to be more stuff happening, and at a quicker pace, in the anime. Despite this, the anime does start dragging, in particular during the period after the imperial exams. While there are never any straight-out filler episodes, the series often picks the slowest, most tortuous methods to advance the plot, like episode 21, which is almost entirely superfluous except for an eleventh hour hint at a plot twist.

The Story of Saiunkoku is like Fushigi Yugi meets Dream of Red Chambers, as envisioned by CLAMP. This, actually, is a good thing. If you’re just the slightest fan of shoujo manga, and if you come across a box set of the first season for a reasonable price, I cannot stress how quickly you should snap up that deal. As it is, you can still get the early DVD sets relatively easy, but the later DVD volumes are nigh impossible to get your hands on. Thank goodness Viz is putting out the manga, or else we’d all be missing out. Now if only we could convince them to license the light novels as well!

(Note: I’ve used the Funimation names for this review. Shuurei’s family name is actually Kou, not Hong, but I’m guessing Funimation was worried we’d get her family mixed up with the other Kou family.)

Shiki | Novel: Fuyumi Ono / Shinchosha | Manga: Ryu Fujisaki / Shueisha | Anime: Daume / Funimation

Watch online at Funimation

I feel bad that I’ve been recommending stuff that you can’t buy or watch, or can only buy at ridiculous prices. So I thought I’d throw in a bonus review and recommend something you can watch easily. Shiki has vampires, “werewolves”, and a fascinating ensemble cast that will hook you faster than you can say “Twilight.” Plus, you can watch it for free on Funimation’s site now, and next year it’ll be released as DVD box set. What more could you want? (Well, other than for someone to license the corresponding manga and light novel as well, of course.)

Summer is the season for horror stories, and Shiki delivers in spades. The story is set in the small rural village of Sotoba, a place isolated from the rest of the world by mountains and forests. Sotoba is famous for burying their dead, and as a result the local folklore has plenty of stories featuring the undead, though no one takes that myth seriously. That is, until one summer, the villagers begin to die off an unprecedented rate, only to be seen walking the streets at night. Is it an epidemic? Is it a curse brought in by the mysterious Kirishikis, the eccentric family that builds a castle in the mountains and moved in during the dead of night? Or could there be some truth in the undead legend after all?

The closest Shiki has to main characters are Natsuno Yuuki, the surly teenaged son whose family moves from Tokyo to Sotoba in the beginning of the story, and Toshio Ozaki, the young head doctor of the Ozaki Clinic whose family has always served as Sotoba’s doctors. Ozaki, first frustrated by his inability to identify what the illness killing his villagers is, tries his best to convince the other adults that there are vampires — known as “shiki”, or corpse demons, in the series — walking amongst their midst. As a representative of the adult residents of Sotoba, his is a powerful story of how the rational can brainwash people just as much as the irrational. None of the adult villagers seem able to accept that something unusual is happening in Sotoba, much less that the cause is supernatural. As much as Ozaki tries to save the village, the village unconsciously repels his attempts, and it’s only a drastic eleventh hour sleight of hand by Ozaki that gets Sotoba to listen.

Natsuno’s problems are likewise complicated. He has no love for Sotoba, and in fact only has one friend in the entire village, a cheerful guy named Toru Mutou, but he isn’t willing to stand by and let the shiki kill off the village either. Still, how do you kill the undead, especially when the only allies you have are two middle schoolers who are just as clueless as you are? To make matters more complicated, one of the first victims, a teenaged girl named Megumi Shimizu, has an obsessive crush on Natsuno, and after she’s turned into a shiki, she’s hellbent on stalking him down and turning him into a shiki as well.

It’s not the kids that are interesting in Shiki, though the complications of the Natsuno/Tooru/Megumi relationship certainly make for one of the most dramatic twists mid-series. It’s really the ambiguities of the adult characters and the incredibly well-executed pacing of the narrative that elevates Shiki from a mere vampire horror story to a very complex and very human drama. Shiki is all about asking what it means to be or want to be alive, and what sacrifices are justified in the pursuit. Take Ozaki, whose obsession with hunting down the shiki is matched only by the shiki’s obsession with hunting down him. He wants to save the village from getting taking over; they want to keep him from killing their own kind. Is one really better than the other? The leader of the shiki, Sunako, was bitten when she was just a little girl, and all she wants is to give the shiki a place where they don’t have to hide, where they can have festivals and live as families and walk down the street just like people. It’s a noble enough dream, but to accomplish it, she needs to wipe out Sotoba’s living residents.

If Sunako is a charismatic villain who tugs at your heartstrings, Ozaki is a terribly unsympathetic protagonist who makes you question whether you should even be cheering for him. He’s callous towards the concerns of others, so one-minded that he thinks nothing of sacrificing his own wife to accomplish his aims. Towards the end of series, you begin to wonder whether he actually cares about the village at all, or if this is just a matter of pride for him. Then there’s Muroi, who as the head priest of Sotoba, should be on the frontlines driving away the shiki. But instead Muroi is entranced by the shiki as a way of escaping his stifling life, and you find yourself upset with Ozaki for not being more understanding, even though Muroi is, in effect, enabling the death of Sotoba. And all of this doesn’t even begin to touch on the feelings of the victims’ families, who are simultaneously repulsed and drawn to their shiki loved ones. Would it be better for someone you love to die and stay dead? Or is it better for them to die and come back as a murderous, blood-thirsty, but very animate shiki?

Shiki packs all this and more in crisscrossing plot lines that weave together to form a narrative about life and death that could be mined forever. You’ll find yourself changing loyalties, reconsidering sides, examining long-held preconceptions about how life should be and what rules should guide human interaction, simply depending on which character the episode focuses on. While the story can get a little heavy-handed, especially during Muroi’s dialogues with Sunako, the grand finale of the last few episodes handle the moral dilemmas of the remaining Sotoba residents so unflinchingly that you’ll wish for some sugar-coating. But if there’s one thing you could say about Shiki, it’s that it forces most of its major characters to look their choices in the face and stand up to them — sometimes with disastrous results.

The art in Shiki can be preposterous at times. Don’t get me started on the crazy hairdos, the physics-defying tears, and the inexplicable fashions; Megumi in the first episode doesn’t even come close to the worst of it. There’s a particular moment where one of the Kirishiki servants goes to visit Natsuno which just emphasizes how ill-suited Shiki was for comedy, no matter how hard the series would try to inject occasional jokes. But you forget that failing when you’re dealing with one of the spookiest soundtracks made for any horror anime. The sound effects– whispering choirs, eerie giggles, and almost fetid sucking sounds– will make you cringe and shrink back into yourself. The music ranges from forgettable melodies plucked out on guitar strings to an unassuming main theme that nevertheless ends up being associated with so many depressing events that you start dreading its appearance. The end product gives off the impression of being a demented music box — harmless during the day, but deeply unsettling in the dark.

Shiki is a feast for the fan of vampires or the supernatural. There’s something vaguely Stephen King-ish about its plot and premise, but the execution is something much closer to an HBO miniseries: you know it has a plan, you know it’s going somewhere, and the ending is satisfying and satisfyingly unexpected. The characters span the whole spectrum of unselfish, neutral, and reprehensible. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve watched a series that handled that spectrum as well as Shiki. Watch it now while it’s free, then grab a copy for those hot, terrible summer evenings where you need a little chill that only the undead can inspire.

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Either Natsume Yujincho or Chi’s Sweet Home will be next. If you feel strongly one way or another, as always, drop me a line!