Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle

Off the Shelf: Ranting & Hoping

April 6, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 11 Comments

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda! What’s brown and sticky?

MELINDA: Um.

MICHELLE: A stick!

MELINDA: Ba-dum-dum *chick*

MICHELLE: That is seriously my favorite joke. Anyways! Want to get us started this week?

MELINDA: I will do that, though I warn you, it won’t be pretty.

MICHELLE: I’m a big girl; I can take it.

MELINDA: So here’s the thing. For a number of reasons (notably the “I get the message” incident) I haven’t read any of Kanoko Sakurakoji’s Black Bird since its second volume. But somehow last night, in a moment of true madness, I found myself picking up volumes six and seven from my review shelf, determined to give the series another chance. I’d genuinely liked the first volume, after all. Was not that alone reason enough to grant a second chance?

This was a mistake.

“I wanted to see this look on your face,” says super-Tengu Kyo to Misao, his helpless bride. Well, apparently that’s all anyone wants to see because she looks like that pretty much the entire time. It would not be an exaggeration to say that throughout the whole of these two volumes, there are maybe ten pages total in which she is not visibly flushed, either from terror, humiliation, or sexual arousal.

Furthermore, any hopes that Misao might have reclaimed even some small amount of the agency she appeared to possess in the series’ first volume have been utterly dashed by this point. She’s completely submissive to her demon lover, and though volume six opens with her going out on her own to try to stop Kyo’s brutal brother Sho from claiming leadership of the Tengu clan, practically the first thing she says to Kyo when she’s returned from the ordeal is, “I know you’re going to scold me. I’ll accept any punishment you give me,” at which point Kyo admits that what she did probably helped his cause but then adds, “All you had to do was stay in my arms and be protected. You’ve sure turned into a troublesome bride.”

Volume seven revolves around Misao and Kyo’s desperate struggle not to have sexual intercourse (featuring flushed, aroused Misao in an array of flustered poses), which is more tedious than it is genuinely offensive, but man, it was rough to get through.

I realize that I’m basically ranting here, but really, Michelle, I just don’t get it. And I mean that with all sincerity. I can accept that many girls and women enjoy fantasizing about being subservient to a stern, controlling lover. It’s obvious that they do, based on the popularity of this series alone. But it’s just so not my fantasy, to the point of making me feel alternately angry and ill as I attempt to read this series. I just can’t enjoy it, even when I try.

MICHELLE: I haven’t read beyond volume two, either, but I also have later volumes sitting around, waiting for their turn at a second chance. I guess it’s the sales figures and the feeling that popularity must somehow reflect quality that makes us feel compelled to try it again, even if it isn’t our cup of tea. If only it weren’t so skeevy, it could really be trashy fun! It’s not as if Kyo is hard on the eyes or anything.

MELINDA: I can often appreciate a trashy romance! I have done so many times! But there’s something about this one, Michelle… oh, it just makes me furious on pretty much every other page. And though I’m really quite fond of the adorable little Tengu, Taro, he doesn’t appear often enough in these volumes to sufficiently quell my rage.

So how about you? Anything less maddening to share with us this week?

MICHELLE: Well, though it does have its own shades of “average girl in love with a stern guy,” Itazura Na Kiss still continues to generally delight me.

The fifth volume is no exception. Brilliant Naoki Irie, who rivals Ash Lynx in the ability to do anything and do it awesomely, has finally decided that he wants to be a doctor. Even though he claims to be disinterested in Kotoko Aihara, the girl who has devotedly loved him for five years now, she is the only one he tells about his decision, knowing that it will upset his father to learn that Naoki won’t be taking over for him at his company.

Naoki’s right, but no one expected the father to have chest pains that require hospitalization. Putting his own plans on hold, Naoki steps in to lead his father’s company in his absence, realizes they’re in a pretty dire financial situation, and appears poised to go along with an arranged marriage that would make an in-law of a wealthy potential investor.

Of course, this brings much drama for our poor heroine, as well as many nice moments between the lead couple. While everyone else has their own vision of what Naoki should be, for example, Kotoko’s the only one who grieves the loss of his dream when he decides to put it aside for the sake of the family.

It’s too bad, though, that many other moments in the volume repeatedly drive home the point that Kotoko is thoroughly incompetent at anything she attempts. She’s worthless helping at the office, she can’t knit a decent scarf, she can’t cook… It’s frustrating, because I want to see her find that thing she is really good at. Happily, it seems that she might be poised to figure that out, since she’s realized everyone else has a dream and that all she’s been doing is revolving around Naoki.

Despite the occasional frustration, every time I finish a volume of this series I really wish I had the next. I’d say that’s pretty high praise!

MELINDA: That’s certainly high praise, maybe even more so since you can recognize the things that frustrate you about the series, yet still feel that way. Of course I’m famous for loving flawed books, but I really think it often comes down to the very *personal* needs we have as readers, and whether a book fulfills them. Yeah, I’d be frustrated, too, with the heroine who is terrible at everything. That trope is really unpleasant for me, and obviously it is for you too. But the series still fulfills your basic needs as a reader and leaves you wanting more.

I suspect my problem with Black Bird is that it simply doesn’t fulfill my needs, so there’s nothing to balance the things that frustrate me about it. Based on your assessment here, I have greater hopes for Itazura Na Kiss!

MICHELLE: I certainly hope you’d find it more to your liking. One major difference is that Naoki’s not trying to quell Kotoko’s personal ambition; in fact, he’d probably like her more if she found something else to do with her life than just moon about over him. I admit that he’s frequently dismissive of her, but there are also things about her that he obviously values, as well.

Now, our final pick of the night is one that we both read. Care to do the summarizing honors this time?

MELINDA: Ouch! The summarizing! Me? Why?????? (insert dramatic weeping)

Okay, I’ll try. So, the manga we’ve both brought to the table tonight is volume one of Kazue Kato’s Blue Exorcist, out just this week from Viz Media. It’s the story of Rin, a rowdy teen who just happens to be the son of Satan, born to a human woman and raised (along with his frail twin brother) by local priest and well-known exorcist Father Fujimoto. As the series opens, Rin is just becoming aware of his demonic ancestry, the shock of which sends him into a teenaged temper tantrum capable of (accidentally) causing the death of his beloved father figure. Bereft and fueled by vengeance, Rin vows to become an exorcist himself, only to discover that his supposedly innocent brother must be the one to teach him!

How’d I do?

MICHELLE: You did quite well! Now, I will go out on a limb here and guess that you didn’t care much about exorcisms or Satan or demonic powers sealed by a sword, but that you did enjoy the relationship between the brothers once we discover that Yukio, Rin’s brother, is actually a fairly badass exorcist in his own right!

MELINDA: You are very smart indeed! Yes, that was definitely my reaction, and I suspect it was yours too! I’m actually really glad that David made a point of repeating, when he named Blue Exorcist his Pick of the Week, that the first chapter is exceptionally weak, because if I hadn’t known that it was going to get better, I might not have soldiered on. There really was nothing there to draw me in, aside from a vague fondness for the art style. How about you?

MICHELLE: David’s words definitely were in my mind as I read. At first, I was wondering what was really so awful. Boring, yes, but awful? But then came the thoroughly cheesy scene in which Father Fujimoto is possessed by Satan and I went, “Oh.” Things improve very much when Rin gets to True Cross Academy, however. While I do like the art style, particularly the looks of Rin and Yukio, I must say that the quirky-just-to-be-quirky garb of the academy’s president puts me off quite a bit. Usually I take characters with a bizarre sense of fashion in stride, but this guy’s outfit just seems extra pointless to me.

MELINDA: I’m on the fence regarding the president’s odd outfit. It’s definitely “quirky-just-to-be-quirky,” just as you say, but it contains a particular element that tends to be bullet-proof costuming for me (giant cuffs on sleeves), which is almost enough to win me over all by itself. There’s a reason I’m obsessed with the artwork in Pandora Hearts.

MICHELLE: That is an oddly specific costuming kink! I haven’t paused to consider whether I have anything similar. Maybe I like long coats, because I really like the outfit Yukio wears while teaching his class.

Which leads us back ’round full circle to the brothers and their relationship. I have to wonder where the story is going to go from here, because while I like the boys and find their interaction interesting—Yukio initially blames Rin for Father Fujimoto’s death but comes around to deciding to protect his brother in Fujimoto’s place—if the whole series is going to be them tackling cases like the girl whose legs were affected by a garden spirit, I can’t say my interest is going to stay put for long.

MELINDA: Long coats are delicious. I can completely get behind that!

I enjoyed the episode with the girl in the garden, but yes, I agree that format would not be compelling for long. I’d like to see more of the two of them in the classroom, with Rin actually learning the craft under Yukio’s tutelage, because watching the two of them together is the most compelling aspect of the story so far. I’d like to get to know both of them more, both as their present selves and the little boys they once were. I feel like there could be a lot there.

MICHELLE: I think that’s unquestionably the area in which the series shows the most potential, particularly in the character of Yukio, whose perspective of events we haven’t been privy to. I definitely plan to continue reading it; I just hope I don’t wind up disappointed.

MELINDA: Given how dramatically the series improved between its first two chapters, at least things have already shifted in a positive direction. I have high hopes!

MICHELLE: I have… modest hopes.

MELINDA: Always the smart one. ;)

Off the Shelf: Cranky

March 23, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 8 Comments

MELINDA: Hello. It is snowing at my house and I’m feeling very cranky. How about you?

MICHELLE: *points and laughs* It’s warm and sunny here! Internet connectivity woes are making me slightly cranky, though. Perhaps we can get our minds off what ails us by talking about some manga!

MELINDA: Perhaps so! Do you have some healing manga to share this week?

MICHELLE: There’s one that always brightens my mood, but I think I’ll save that for last. First up, I’ve got the debut volume of Pavane for a Dead Girl, a new series from TOKYOPOP.

I read one volume of a Koge-Donbo series back in 2004 and thought that was quite sufficient for one lifetime. Pavane for a Dead Girl tempted me, though, with its late-Meiji music school setting. We begin—in an inauspicious and jumbled way—as a new student named Nanao Kaga is about to commence studying at the school where she once long ago heard a lovely violin melody being played by a boy whom she dubbed the “prince of harmony.” lmost immediately, Nanao runs into the boy again, who just so happens to be playing the same tune. “What beautiful music. Like a dazzling jewel overflowing with love and radiance,” Nanao opines.

The boy is named Takenomaru Sagami, and gives Nanao a brooch that is at first clear but progressively becomes a deep amber in color. She’s soon head-over-heels in love with him, but what she doesn’t know is that, in exchange for good looks and musical talent, Takenomaru has made a bargain with the “great angel” to “capture the tears of Maria.” What this basically means is that he has to bestow a brooch upon a pure-hearted girl, encourage her to love him, and then stab her in the heart once the brooch indicates that her feelings have reached maximum capacity.

In the right hands, this could be an interesting concept. Dark, brooding hero is doomed to be eternally alone, because he must kill every girl who loves him in order to survive. Perhaps it will even go there eventually—I can’t believe I’m actually willing to read a second volume of a Koge-Donbo series!—but the execution is hampered by this being the most moe-tastic thing I’ve ever seen. None of the female characters registers even remotely as a fleshed-out person, and one gets the impression that they’re only there to fall for and be slain by Takenomaru in turn.

Maybe this could end up being something like Higurashi When They Cry, in which moe and darkness coexist, but I’m a little dubious. Curious, but not wholly convinced.

MELINDA: I think overall I have a more generous view of “moe” and what that can mean for a series, but semantics aside, this sounds pretty dubious. There’s the potential for a sort of Princess Tutu-flavored darkness in the scenario you describe, but it sounds like the execution has a looong way to go to match that kind of depth. I’m quite sad to hear it, actually.

MICHELLE: Admittedly, I don’t have a lot of experience with moe and don’t mean to blast it in ignorance, but the flatness of the female characters is inescapable. Takenomaru doesn’t really fare much better, but at least he has a traumatic backstory and a cruel bargain to live up to.

How about you? Read any doldrum-vanquishing things this week?

MELINDA: One of my titles definitely falls into that category, and I’ll start with that in hopes of buoying us up for the evening! That heart-warming manga would be volume three of Yumi Unita’s Bunny Drop, out just this week from Yen Press. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine that this series could ever become anything but warm and charming.

This volume begins with a milestone, as Rin’s first day of elementary school approaches. As Daikichi finds himself unexpectedly anxious about letting Rin walk to school without him, he’s also faced with a reality check at work, when a flirtatious female coworker abruptly loses interest after he tells her he’s raising a child. This volume’s biggest challenge, however, continues to be Rin’s birth mother, whose dispassionate attitude towards her child leaves Daikichi alternately angry and confounded.

I know I already made this comparison in my discussion of the first two volumes, but it’s continuously fascinating to me just how differently this series reads from Yotsuba&! thanks simply to its marketing demographic. Nothing against Yotsuba&! of course, but the focus on actual parenting in Bunny Drop stands in such stark contrast to that series, it’s almost funny. As a non-parent, I might expect this to be tedious, but in this artist’s hands, it’s anything but.

What Unita manages to capture here is not just the challenges of parenting or the (presumably) relatable humor and fear, but the honest-to-goodness joy of it, in terms that even a child-free old biddy like me can appreciate. Rin may not be as unique a soul as Yotsuba is, or at least less obviously so, but she’s such a little person, it’s impossible to avoid slipping into Daikichi’s POV. We experience everything here just as he does, and we experience it intimately, as though immersed in his feelings.

It’s a beautifully written series, and it just keeps getting better, volume after volume.

MICHELLE: I probably said this exact same thing last time, but I am totally committed to reading this series in the near future. Your description warms the cockles of my poor, withered heart. I also love how Rin gets progressively older on each cover. The series just ended recently in Japan, I believe, and I wonder if she makes it to adulthood by the end.

MELINDA: You will love it, Michelle. Really and truly. It’s one of my favorite manga series currently running.

So, what’s this mood-brightening card you’ve been holding onto over there?

MICHELLE: Only my beloved Skip Beat!

For those not in the know, this is the story of Kyoko Mogami, a teenager who was betrayed by her first love after she followed him to Tokyo and supported him while he made it big as a pop star. After learning how he really viewed her, she vowed to get even by surpassing him in show biz. This might sound a bit like Honey Hunt, but trust me, Skip Beat! is the better series.

For one, it focuses pretty intensely on Kyoko’s evolution as an actress. In this volume, for instance, she is practically living the role of Natsu, the leader of a group of mean girls, a part she initially had trouble getting into until she succeeded in differentiating it from another villainous role for which she’s become moderately well known. Although Kyoko does have a love interest of sorts (although she’s oblivious to his feelings) in fellow actor Ren Tsuruga, he appears for all of three pages. Instead, it’s all about Kyoko’s professional growth and the rivalry her ability to transcend a notorious role inspires in a costar who hasn’t been able to get beyond a certain part she played as a child.

It’s immensely satisfying to watch Kyoko embody a part, particularly when she had struggled to understand the character, even if the reactions of astounded spectators can sometimes be a little over-the-top in their appreciation. One thing that’s particularly neat is that when Kyoko acted opposite Ren early on in the series, he was able to coax a good performance from her simply from his own acting. Now she’s capable of doing the same thing with her costar, but doesn’t even realize it. She’s such a great character, normally kind-hearted and fond of girly things, but capable of summoning a demonic aura when she is wronged. When said costar pushes her down a flight of stairs, for example, her first concern is for an armload of sodas she was carrying, but then she laughs evilly and declares, “I’m going to have so much fun with this.”

Have I gushed sufficiently? Skip Beat! may be lighthearted, but it’s tremendous fun to follow Kyoko’s rise to stardom and to root for her and Ren to get together one day, though I’m certainly in no hurry about that. I’ve read twenty-three volumes without tiring of the series in the least, and would happily read twenty-three more.

MELINDA: You know I’m embarrassed to have never gotten into this series, and now I’m chomping at the bit as well! So much manga, so little time! This really sounds delightful. How many volumes are there in total?

MICHELLE: Volume 27 came out in Japan in February. I’m not spoiled on the goings-on, but I haven’t heard any murmurings of it ending any time soon.

So, if you started with the buoying title, does that mean your other one’s a bit of a downer?

MELINDA: Mmmm, I’d say “downer” is a pretty strong word, but it’s definitely dark and not as expertly crafted. My other read this week was the second volume of Kim Hyung-Min and Yan Kyung-Il’s March Story, due out soon from Viz.

This series is still very much finding its feet, and nowhere is this more obvious than in this volume’s storylines. While the series’ first volume fell pretty squarely in what’s become known as “Comeuppence Theater,” in which foolish or selfish characters suffer horribly for their vices, this volume leans heavily towards poignance and compassion–still dark, but with a very different tone.

As in the debut volume, “Ciste Vihad” March encounters a number of demons known as “Ill” who lurk in beautiful objects, hoping to possess unwitting humans. In this set of stories, however, most of the Ill are deliberately sympathetic characters whom March feels compelled to help rather than destroy. March’s associates, too, all fairly terrifying in the series’ first volume, have been quite humanized here, particularly the giant-headed Jake and supernatural antique dealer Rodin.

Quite a few of the tales are genuinely touching, involving Ill motivated by love or other emotional attachment they simply can’t let go of. Add in the series’ intricate, latticed artwork, and one must acknowledge some moments of real beauty. It’s a real step forward, I’ll happily admit. I like the series’ new, softer tone.

What this volume suffers miserably from, however, is a maddening lack of its title character. After finally winning us over in the first volume’s late chapters by getting us really invested in March, her creators have all but tossed her aside in favor of these “touching” episodes, sucking out some of the life they’d so painstakingly put into it.

I’m not giving up on this series by any means, and honestly I’d pick it up just for the pictures! But I’m not sure yet what kind of story this wants to be, and I’d guess its creators are (or were, at least) in the same boat.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it does sound pretty uneven. The progress of March’s relationships withi the demons reminds me a bit of Natsume’s Book of Friends, in which the yokai quickly establish themselves as sympathetic. I hope March Story evolves into something as nice as that series.

MELINDA: I’d be a bit surprised, if only because I think it’s got a different agenda. But there’s definitely stuff to work with if its creative team can find its feet.

So, hey, are you feeling better?

MICHELLE: Yep! And my internet seems to have stabilized. How’s the snow?

MELINDA: Pretty much petered out, at least for the moment it seems! I call this a job well done!

MICHELLE: I concur!

MELINDA: Well, goodnight then!

Off the Shelf: The Lost Hour

March 16, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MICHELLE: It’s started! It’s started! No, I don’t mean Off the Shelf, I mean Daylight Savings Time! DST, I <3 you so! MELINDA: I’d like to share your enthusiasm, but the fact is, it’s now dark in the morning when I walk my dog. I hate getting up in the dark. Also, I am sleepy. So I am Daylight Savings Time’s March Scrooge. I’m recover in a month or so.

MICHELLE: I admit getting up in the dark is no fun, but I just love the height of summer when it’s almost 9 and still light out!

Anyway, if you can’t share my enthusiasm for DST, is there anything else you *can* feel enthusiastic about?

MELINDA: Well, if we’re talking about manga, mostly yes. Wanna hear about what I’ve been reading?

MICHELLE: Of course!

MELINDA: I’ll start with my debut manga for the week, volume one of Oresama Teacher by Izumi Tsubaki, author of The Magic Touch, a series I mostly loathed. I was quite pleasantly surprised, then, to find this volume rather to my liking.

After being expelled from her high school for repeated fighting, Mafuyu is ready to turn over a new leaf at her new school in the country. Unfortunately, she gets off to a rough start by unknowingly getting into a fight right in front of her soon-to-be homeroom teacher! Furthermore, when she tries to befriend a tough classmate, Hayasaka, he reads her energy as bloodlust, setting her up in his mind as pretty much her old, badass self. As her friendship with Hayasaka progresses (against all odds) and new truths about her teacher begin to come to light, Mafuyu finds herself struggling to reconcile who she was with who she wants to be.

That sounds a bit serious and angsty as I type it all out, but the truth is, this manga is just great fun. Unlike The Magic Touch, which I once accused of having “all the crucial elements of a fun shojo romance” while going out of its way to focus on their least interesting aspects, Oresama Teacher has got fun down pat. Its hijinks are genuinely amusing (especially Hayasaka’s consistent misreading of Mafuyu’s friendly overtures), its characters genuinely odd (I won’t even go into the deep issues of the homeroom teacher, Saeki), and its heroine genuinely spunky, which is always a winner with me.

I’m even enjoying Tsubaki’s artwork quite a bit, which I characterized as “serviceable” in my review of The Magic Touch‘s first volume. I’m finding her work here to be energetic and expressive, words I never would have used to describe her earlier series.

I should mention, too, that this is one of the few manga I’ve read where I’ve found a potential romantic pairing between a teacher and a teenaged student to be even remotely palatable. It’s still got its creepy aspects (hell, there’s not much about Saeki that’s not creepy), but the characters’ mutual backstory sets them up in a fairly unusual relationship that sort of supersedes their current circumstances. Don’t get me wrong, if I’m ‘shipping, I’ll be all about Mafuyu and Hayasaka, but the dynamic with her teacher is pretty interesting on its own.

Overall, I just really had a good time with this. It was an unexpected pleasure.

MICHELLE: That’s great to hear! I never did brave The Magic Touch, but I really like stories wherein a problem teen seizes the chance to turn over a new leaf (like Very! Very! Sweet). Plus, I have to give points for the name Mafuyu, which I don’t think I’ve run across in manga before!

MELINDA: Oddly, I feel this series has the potential to go kinka dark, which I doubt it actually will, but even just the fact that it could gives it a bit of oomph, in my book.

So what about you? Anything to get enthusiastic about, manga-wise this week?

MICHELLE: Mm, not exactly enthusiastic, no, but definitely optimistic.

I’ve got a debut manga of my own to discuss this week, which is Clean Freak, Fully Equipped. (Note: The volume offers no fewer than three variants on this title, punctuation-wise. Two of them are incorrect (no hyphens are required), so I’ve gone with the version that appears at the end of each chapter.) I must admit I didn’t have very high hopes for this weird little series, but it actually surprised me by eliciting a few giggles.

The basic premise is that Sata Senda was a normal little kid until an encounter with a wanton booger-squisher prompted him to develop an extreme phobia for germs. He’s able to conquer his fears when it matters, though, like when the girl he likes gets motion sickness on the bus, or when his new, equally odd friend in middle school attempts to use a precious raincoat to keep some potato plants from drowning in the rain (I am not making this up.) Gradually, he makes a few more new friends, who are accepting of his quirks.

It’s a little irksome watching Senda make progress only to have him relapse at the start of the next chapter, and the crowded and inconsistent art is certainly nothing to write home about, but the silly sense of humor goes a long way in making this series a fun read. For example, Senda’s parents find him hilarious, and they enjoy laughing at him and taking pictures of the elaborate defensive garb he’s devised for himself. Also, when the girl he likes moves away to “New York,” there’s a running gag where she keeps sending him pictures in which she’s accompanied by wild animals like lions and polar bears. Lastly, I never thought a picture of a sad bunny could be funny, but Clean Freak, Fully Equipped manages it.

In the end, it’s far from perfect, but it’s much better than I expected!

MELINDA: I’ve been interested in this title since it arrived in my mailbox, but I admit my first thought was… how will this go over with people who suffer from real germ phobia? Is the protagonist’s plight taken seriously enough to be relatable for them, or does it just poke fun?

MICHELLE: It is not taken even the littlest bit seriously. It’s always the source of a gag, and even to me, it seemed that Senda didn’t really have it, if he was able to get past it so easily when his friends needed him. Realism, this is not.

MELINDA: Good to know, good to know.

MICHELLE: What else have you got this week?

MELINDA: Well, this week I also checked out the second volume of the manga adaptation of My Girlfriend’s a Geek, based on the novels by Pentabu. I liked the first volume better than a lot of manga bloggers did, and I’m definitely still having fun with it, with really just a single caveat.

In this volume, our hero, Taiga, is deep into writing a BL novel for his new fujoshi girlfriend, and though he’s clearly embarrassed, he’s also pretty serious about the writing (which is damn charming, if you ask me). A trip to a school-uniform-themed cafe with Yuiko and her like-minded friends is a bit more than he can take. And an encounter with Yuiko’s elegant boss (nicknamed “Milan”) incites a sudden sense of rivalry in Taiga, causing him to foolishly proclaim his determination to become a “moe seme,” despite the fact that he’s not entirely sure what that is.

What’s charming about this series is that it winks equally at the Taigas and Yuikos of this world, making affectionate fun of both but never crossing over into satire, which would be far too cutting in this context. Pentabu actually manages to realistically evoke both the fun of being a fujoshi (or any other kind of intense fan) and the ways in which it can become isolating from those on the outside. Taiga’s experience in the cafe paints this perfectly, for instance, rendering the girls both adorable and obnoxious in their fandom, as Taiga swings between feelings of appreciation and alienation. There are some potentially deep things lurking here under the surface, and I find I’m eager to read the novels to see what’s really in there.

As a veteran of slash fandom, I find the series both genuinely amusing and a tiny bit humiliating. Fortunately, the characters are charming enough to keep the latter to a minimum.

Now to the caveat. The one thing that strikes me as odd through this entire series so far, is that though Taiga is clearly into Yuiko, and Yuiko has quite a few fantasies that involve Taiga, the two of them together actually don’t seem to have much of a sex life at all. And while I guess this could be played for humor, you’d think there would be some actual frustration on the part of our POV character, at least. I find that really strange.

MICHELLE: I’ve been considering reading the novels first, actually, especially since the second and final one just came out. That’s very interesting about the perspective on fandom; I find I experience something similar with my enthusiastic friends on occasion. Your last paragraph makes me wonder, though, whether Yuiko really likes Taiga for himself, or if she just likes the idea of him.

MELINDA: That’s a very good question. And though the series’ light tone makes me doubt it’ll leave Taiga ultimately heartbroken, I guess we never know!

So, what else have you got for us?

MICHELLE: The cutingest cute that ever cuted! Well, actually, maybe that’s Chi’s Sweet Home, but the second volume of Eensy Weensy Monster comes close.

Nanoha Satsuki and Hazuki Tokiwa got off on the wrong foot, when Hazuki’s shallow ways irritated Nanoha to the point where she yelled at him for being so empty-headed. Awesomely, this serves as a wake-up call to Hazuki, who realizes that he is pretty worthless. He begins spending more time with Nanoha, and by the second volume he’s developed feelings for her. He eventually confesses, which is followed by a cute period wherein he attempts to wait patiently for Nanoha to figure out how she feels about him.

This doesn’t sound like much plot, but that’s because the emphasis is entirely on the characters and their evolving feelings, something at which creator Masami Tsuda (of Kare Kano fame) excels. She’s especially good at showing how each characters’ perspective of the same moment differs, and at eventually bringing them together in a believable way. Too, I love how Nanoha, who is usually drawn in a simple, cute style, becomes lovelier when seen through Hazuki’s eyes. It’s a subtle difference, but makes a big impact.

This two-volume series is also unique for its twelve-chapter structure, which follows the couple over a year of their acquaintance, with each chapter representing a month. The story never gets too bogged down in details as a result, but still charts a satisfying path. I might wish for more, especially about their unique cast of friends, but it isn’t really necessary.

MELINDA: Oh, that does sound like the cutingest cute! What a great way to wrap up the evening here. I might even forget for a moment about my precious Lost Hour.

So it’s just two volumes, eh? I feel sad about this, even though you’ve already said it’s satisfying as-is.

MICHELLE: Yes, only two volumes, but, in my opinion, the first two volumes of Kare Kano were the best in that series, so it’s probably a good thing that she stopped here. Heck, maybe she agrees with me about Kare Kano. And I bet she agrees about DST, too!

MELINDA: Perhaps! :D

Okay, the Lost Hour has killed me. I must collapse in a heap.

MICHELLE: Collapse away!

MELINDA: ‘Night-‘night. *clunk*

Off the Shelf: Business as usual

March 9, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 16 Comments

MELINDA: So here we are, back to our regular programming after a few “special” weeks in a row. Feels a little strange, doesn’t it?

MICHELLE: It feels totally strange! Where are all the babies and girls living in cellars?!

MELINDA: Hm, when you put it that way, I’m grateful for a return to normalcy! So what have you got for us, now that we’re comfortably ordinary again?

MICHELLE: A love story between two not-so-ordinary teens!

I’m talking about Portrait of M & N, by Gakuen Alice creator Tachibana Higuchi. I read its third and fourth volumes this week, and I have to say I am pretty frustrated. It’s like that old saying, “The opposite of love is not hate but indifference.” If I didn’t think Portrait was worth getting angry at, I wouldn’t bother, but it really could be so much better than it is and reading it can be a wearying experience because of that fact.

Mitsuru Abe is an elegant-looking, if rather awkward, girl who has been belittled by her mother to the point that she has developed masochistic tendencies. The solitude arising from a sickly childhood, meanwhile, has led Natsuhiko Amakusa to develop a narcissistic fixation on his own beauty. The two meet, bond over their respective secret eccentricities, and eventually fall in love. If the story were solely about two people, different from others, who find love and acceptance with each other, I would probably like it a lot more. And, it’s true, sometimes the story does go in this direction, particularly in these volumes, where Mitsuru and Natsuhiko officially begin dating and immediately have to defend their relationship against Mitsuru’s disapproving family.

Unfortunately, this series has a gimmick, and one that Higuchi cannot resist beating into the ground. When Mitsuru feels pain, a different personality takes over and she pretty much glomps whoever inflicted it. And whenever Natsuhiko spies his reflection in a mirror, he goes off on rhapsodies of self-adoration. I was tired of this by volume two, and the fact that it’s still the punchline in volume four leaves me shaking my head. And as if everyone is morons and can’t figure out what’s going on despite abundant visual clues and the fact that we’ve seen it many times before, Higuchi also adds helpful narration, like, “He sees himself reflected in the goggles.” I also don’t like Hijiri, an obnoxious classmate who likes Mitsuru, or the frequent breakage of the fourth wall.

And yet, I wouldn’t say I dislike Portrait of M & N. It’s disappointing. It’s maddeningly frustrating. But sometimes, it’s kind of good. And it’s because of those glimmers that it’s worth reading.

MELINDA: Oh, ugh! I was thinking, “Wow, this actually sounds really good, what kind of crack is she smoking?” all the way up until you got to the part about the gimmicks. I mean. WHY? It’s as though the mangaka thinks that the characters’ issues need to be exaggerated in order to be interesting, when actually the opposite is the case. They’d be much more interesting if they were allowed to just be real, and we could watch the two of them learn to deal with each other and themselves. Ugh.

MICHELLE: Exactly. Sometimes, I feel like I come down too hard on comedies, but there’s a difference between injecting humor into a story that feels like it’s going somewhere—Silver Diamond consistently makes me giggle, for example—and substituting hijinks in place of actual plot momentum and character growth. This manga is much better when focusing on how the leads have changed because of their relationship rather than how they contend with the irksome antics of Hijiri.

Annnnnyway, what ordinary things have you been reading lately?

MELINDA: Oh, you know, the usual. Ghosts. Curses. Lots of cake. Yes, I’ve indulged myself over the last few days with my latest Pick of the Week, volume eight of Chika Shiomi’s Rasetsu.

Though Rasetu’s actually found true love, it would seem, just in time to save her from the demon who claimed her as his own however many years ago, it also seems likely that the whole thing was a ruse from the start. Not even true love can save Rasetsu from her fate, especially when one of her allies may not be as he seems.

The truth behind one of Rasetu’s ghost-hunting colleagues is finally revealed, and though it’s something I guessed on my own quite a long while ago, Chika throws in some twists that are stunning just the same. And that’s really the secret to this entire manga.

Though the surface elements are very much standard for supernatural shoujo (and romantic shoujo as well, of course), the execution is so fresh and charming, it feels anything but standard. It’s got the comfortable familiarity of a tried-and-true formula, but without the usual pitfalls, which in my mind, is what makes a really good genre series.

Interestingly, too, though we’ve finally hit the best bits of romance here in the series’ penultimate volume, what really shines here is the larger conflict between Rasetsu and her demon predator. For a romance junkie like me, that the rest of the plot would even register at this point is a pretty big deal, so for it to actually grab my focus for the bulk of the volume is significant.

I really enjoy this series, and I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for its final volume.

MICHELLE: I really appreciate how you’ve stoked my desire read this series but have almost entirely avoided spoilers at the same time. It almost sounds like Buffy, in that you’ve got these supernatural things going on, and some of them are dire, but the focus is always on the characters, their relationships, and how they are personally affected by whatever the spooky plot happens to be.

MELINDA: Well, I would say it stops short of the full greatness of Buffy, primarily because it isn’t long enough for the kind of character development that series was able to accomplish, but it’s definitely character-driven and also quite a bit of fun when it’s not in its deepest moments of angst. Well, actually, sometimes it’s fun then, too. I always feel like I need to mention that it gets a slow start, because really the first volume is nothing to get excited over. But it has definitely become a favorite for me over time.

So, what other mundane item have you got in store tonight?

MICHELLE: The thoroughly humdrum tale of a bunch of kids who take turns piloting a giant robot in battles against alien invaders!

I’m talking about Bokurano: Ours, specifically its third volume. Sometimes I feel like I’m alone in my interest in this title. It’s true that it has issues. Most fundamental for some will likely be the fact that “Zearth,” the robot, is powered by the life force of its pilot, which means that kids die. If one can get past this, there’s also the problem that we seldom learn anything about a given kid until it’s their turn to pilot, which means there are a lot of characters sitting around observing the action without really participating much in it.

However, there are some aspects of this series I simply find fascinating, and which keep me reading despite its grim formula. For example… are these alien invaders even real? It’s convenient that the mysterious fellow who tricked the kids into signing contracts knew that exactly fifteen of them would appear, and some elements of the story make me wonder if this isn’t just a game for some alien race’s amusement. The emissary to the kids, for example, is this creepy, pointy-toothed, plushie-like creature named Koyemshi, but he’s much less inclined to dispense helpful advice than to torment them about their impending deaths. In one especially bizarre scene, he addresses a room of empty chairs and explains his approach, saying “Oh? You think I went too far? Oh, come on. I want to see them break down in snotty fits of tears.”

Besides all this, the military has now gotten involved, and their assistance initially gives the current pilot—a neurotic kid named Kako—hope that he might not have to die. When this hope is quickly dashed, he goes berserk, but if he fails to complete the battle in the allotted time frame, Earth will be destroyed! Dun dun dun….

Basically, the main appeal of Bokurano: Ours can be boiled down to, “What the hell is going on?!” Some series that try this approach lose me along the way, but here, I am genuinely interested. My only lament is that volumes do not come out faster, so it will take ages for us to get to the eleventh and final volume where, presumably, concrete answers await.

MELINDA: Well, hmmmm. I must say this does sound pretty interesting. Now, I tend to appreciate grim stories, so not even the child deaths deter me here, and I admit I’m a little fascinated by the horror that poor kid Kako must be going through. How do they muster the will to keep going when they know they are doomed? I would find that so difficult. I’d go berserk in a second. I’m kind of intrigued.

MICHELLE: That’s dealt with in an earlier volume, when Koyemshi tells them that if they refuse to fight or lose on purpose, Earth will be destroyed. So, either way, they’re going to die. They can either die while protecting the people they care about or they can or they can die alongside them. No pressure, kid! For those who are intrigued, a few chapters are available online at VIZ’s SigIKKI site.

MELINDA: That’s horrifying! And kind of awesome. I’m definitely intrigued.

MICHELLE: There’s even more horrifying stuff going on, but I can’t reveal everything!

What else have you got?

MELINDA: Well, actually, I read the first volume of TOKYOPOP’s new series, Yu Aikawa’s Butterfly, which I have to say is one of the oddest little manga I’ve ever read. And I mean that in the best way possible.

Ginji Ishikawa is a high school student who sees the vision of his dead brother every night in bed. Since Ginji’s primary method of dealing with upsetting things is denial, this means that he bases his entire life on the premise that ghosts can’t exist–or anything that smacks of the occult, for that matter.

This belief, in fact, is the biggest factor behind his failure with girls, since he absolutely rejects anyone with even the mildest interest in the supernatural, from haunted houses to horoscopes. It’s strange then, when finds he’s being followed by an elementary school girl who insists that he become part of her ghost-busting business.

Sounds pretty standard, right? I mean, it’s quirky, sure, with the ghost busting and all that, but nothing really strange so far. But that’s only because we haven’t covered yet that the little girl isn’t actually chasing ghosts, but rather living hallucinations she’s able to create out of other people’s thoughts, which she uses to con unsuspecting folks into hiring her as an exorcist. And that the reason she needs Ginji is that his stubborn denial makes him capable of actually destroying her creations (like seriously, by fighting them in one-on-one combat), something she can’t do herself.

And have I mentioned that one of the hallucinations is cute little game character called “Squeakears” (see below), apparently loved by all Japan? And that the little girl is not even a little girl?

(Click for larger view)

As weird as this series is, it’s also really interesting. The characters are all filled with dark little nooks and crannies they’re struggling to hide from everyone else. And the story behind Ginji’s brother’s death is more than spooky. Even Ginji’s odd James Spader-type best friend has some kind of mystery lurking beneath. It’s just the strangest little story, but I really can’t wait to read more.

MICHELLE: Oh, I’m so happy to hear good things about this! Sometimes it can be hard to tell whether a new TOKYOPOP series is going to be good or bad, and this is one that I had some trepidations about. What a delight to instead be reassured!

MELINDA: It’s strange, it really is, so it may be an acquired taste, but man, have I acquired it. I was really thoroughly charmed.

MICHELLE: That’s the plus side of low expectations—you can really fall in love in a surprising way. TOKYOPOP has done that to me several times.

MELINDA: Is that actually a good thing? :D

MICHELLE: It’s always a good thing to find a series to love!

MELINDA: True, indeed!

Amazon.com Widgets

Off the Shelf: Billionaires, Babies, & Brides!

March 2, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 17 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

MICHELLE: After spending last week’s column discussing the grim misanthropy of Osamu Tezuka’s Ayako, Melinda and I decided to go a more frivolous route this time. The idea was actually mine, inspired by a list of new Harlequin titles available on eManga.com. Upon perusing said list, I noticed a pattern. See if you can spot it, too!

Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!
A Date with a Billionaire
Claiming His Pregnant Wife
Royally Bedded, Regally Wedded
Powerful Persuasion
The Millionaire’s Pregnant Mistress
Pilgrim’s Castle
The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress
Lovechild

Out of nine titles, three reference pregnancy, three mention weddings or marriages, and two mention billionaires! One mentions a millionaire, but obviously that guy is just not trying hard enough.

Neither one of us was willing to relinquish our claim to the first title on the list, so we both read that one as well as a second choice. (Mine comes from a second, more recent list, which has fewer billionaires but more brides.)

How did you enjoy your foray into romance, Melinda?

MELINDA: Well, Michelle, first off I have to say I was a little disappointed that my first pick, which was listed originally as The Billionaire‘s Boss’s Forbidden Mistress contained a typo, because I was pretty interested in finding out just who the billionaire actually was in a story that was apparently all about his boss’s forbidden mistress. Alas, the mistress indeed belongs to the billionaire, though I’m not sure what makes her forbidden.

Two years ago, Leah was in a car accident that cost her two things, her mother and her husband’s love. Her mother died in the accident, as one might assume, but her husband, the bastard, was driven away by a new scar on Leah’s leg. When a young billionaire, Jason Pollack, buys the company Leah works for, she’s intrigued by him, but too embarrassed by her scar to give in to her feelings. Jason is a widower, still in love with his late wife, but attracted by Leah’s beauty. In the end, the two of them enter into an affair, Leah because she’s just so happy that any man wants her with her scar, and Jason because… well, he just thinks she’s hot. Both claim to be uninterested in love, but what happens when their feelings change?

Though someone could certainly write a really touching romance with these characters–a woman whose self-esteem has been destroyed and a man looking for solace after the death of his wife–author Milanda Lee has not done so, or at least it’s nowhere evident in Megumi Toda’s adaptation. Like much of the Harlequin manga I’ve read, nothing’s given enough time to feel actually real, and as a result, the romance falls flat. Both Leah and Jason’s traumas are too quickly dismissed to gain any kind of traction, rendering the whole thing too sloppy and shallow to be genuinely enjoyed.

MICHELLE: I think a story all about a billionaire obsessed with his boss’s (a trillionaire?) mistress would probably be more interesting than the story you describe. It seems to be a trend that the wrong guy for the heroine in these romances can’t just be a decent person with whom things don’t work out for subtle reasons; he has to be as shitty as possible, like a husband who ditches his wife because of a frickin’ scar.

MELINDA: Right?? And it’s not like that part isn’t, y’know, poignant, but then when the heroine gets into a loveless relationship just because she’s been so broken by that first, wrong guy, I’d like to see a little more impact. If you’re gonna go for that kind of over-the-top drama, at least use it.

I realize that one of the hardest things to do as a writer is to make a whirlwind romance feel genuine. It’s one of those things that, done well, is plainly exhilarating to read. Unfortunately, if it’s not done well, it just feels empty and not at all romantic.

So, how did you fare with your pick?

MICHELLE: Ai Yazawa could give her lessons on the dramatic potential of choosing the wrong guy! As for my pick, I fared a little better than you did, though I’ve got some of the same complaints.

I had originally intended to read Claiming His Pregnant Wife, but when a second round of Harlequin offerings appeared, containing a book entitled Cowboys, Babies, and Shotgun Vows, I ditched my first choice faster than a chick with a scar. (By the way, I told my husband about the husband in your book and his response was, “What a hosebag!”)

Ashley Bennet, the daughter of a rich oil tycoon, never received love from her father and stepmom. Rather than object when her father proposes an arranged marriage, Ashley is bowled over to have someone actually telling her he loves her. Too bad she catches him boffing someone else on their wedding day. She runs off and ends up drunk in a bar, where she meets an earnest cowboy named Ryder McCall. They enjoy a one-night stand and Ashley goes off to be a waitress in a diner.

Ryder, however, is convinced that he loves her and tracks her down. Ashley is dubious, because Ryder is acting like a presumptuous fool, but then reveals she is pregnant. In Harlequin romances, guys are always happy about this. “Yes! This is awesome!” cries Ryder. Ashley’s not on the marriage bandwagon, but eventually takes an accounting job at the McCall farm. Through proximity to Ryder and silly scenes like watching him be kind to a lost kid in a store for, like, two pages, Ashley decides she loves him. Martin the ex-fiancé returns and expresses a desire to get back together (and also informs Ashley that she’ll be having an abortion), but Ryder punches him. Yay! Now they are in the love.

Seriously, this really tries to be good. Ashley is not a wilting flower, which I appreciate, and there are some attempts at humor. Its biggest flaw is, like you mention, everything just happens too fast to feel genuine! I’m a very slow reader, and when I can blow through a story in twenty minutes, then you know it is pretty flufftastic material.

MELINDA: I do have to wonder if the original novels delve a little deeper, just because they have more time? I think part of the problem with these manga adaptations is that they almost feel more like summaries than stories. I mean, I assume if I went in and actually read Cowboys, Babies, and Shotgun Vows it would read almost exactly as your description did, without a lot more time taken at any particular point.

MICHELLE: Yeah, this is one where I actually have some interest in reading the original to see how it compares. You make a great point about my description being about as thorough as the book itself is, because that’s true. That scene where Ryder demonstrates his capability to be a good dad, for example, quite literally takes all of two pages. The end result is just too simplistic to be believable.

Should I take a stab at summarizing our tandem pick, Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!?

MELINDA: Oh, you know I love it when you summarize!

MICHELLE: I will do my best!

Two years ago, when famous Italian actor Mateo D’Arrezo was in England doing Shakespeare, he came across a local actress named Jennifer Wallen starring as Ophelia in a production of Hamlet. He was instantly smitten by her ability to refrain from being instantly smitten by him, and they start dating. Eventually they marry, even though her mother warns that all men are scum. The marriage does wonders for Jennifer’s career, but she’s no longer the wide-eyed girl Mateo originally fell in love with.

Busy schedules and a scheming manager keep them apart, and when a photo of Mateo kissing a co-star is published, Jennifer assumes the worst and initiates divorce proceedings. She still loves him, though, and when they run into each other while in Cannes to promote a film they made together, they end up getting it on in an elevator. Guess what happens next? If your answer is, “They make a showbiz baby,” award yourself a taco!

Mateo, of course, is delighted by this news. He’s being so sweet and solicitous that Jennifer learns to trust him again and even when the vengeful co-star claims to be pregnant herself, Jennifer’s faith in him remains firm. After a little bit of peril for the baby, they apologize to each other and admit their mistakes. The end.

MELINDA: Excellent summary, m’dear. So. Okay, here are a couple of my particular issues with this story. First, I find the amount of time Mateo spends defending his betrayal as “just a kiss” seriously laughable. I mean, come on. It’s only cheating if he sleeps with her? Making out with other women is totally kosher?

Secondly, what was up with totally dropping the ball on the scheming manager? They make all this fuss about how the guy is keeping Jennifer’s calls from getting through, but then… nothing happens. The manager’s not upset they’re back together. Mateo seems unconcerned that his staff has nearly ruined his marriage. The whole thing is just… dropped. What’s the point of inserting that kind of melodrama if you’re not even going to make anything of it? GIVE ME MRS. DANVERS OR GIVE ME DEATH. Or something like that. You get my point.

MICHELLE: I was sure there was going to be some explanation by which Mateo was not even responsible for the kiss, but at least that didn’t come to pass. And you’re totally right about the asshole manager. Mateo doesn’t even chew him out for his actions. This is the same guy who basically said that Jennifer neglected her husband (how dare she pursue her own career!) and should expect a little infidelity. What specific grudge he has against her isn’t mentioned and, in fact, he’s the one who takes Mateo to see her perform in the first place.

MELINDA: I have to think that the manager must be a little more deliciously evil in the novel. Or at least I’m going to go on pretending that’s the case, because overall, this story was a least a bit more solidly put together than The Billionaire Boss’s Forbidden Mistress.

People should really be clear on this fact though: we fought over who would get to read this manga. That’s how excited we were over the title alone. I have to say, overall, it wasn’t worth the fight.

MICHELLE: Yeah. Now I regret all that hair-pulling I did. But this does lead to another point on which people should be clear, which is that although neither of us is really a Harlequin reader, we didn’t approach the endeavor with the intent to just make fun of Harlequin or anything. I always want to like whatever it is I’m reading, and I certainly didn’t hate these or anything; they were just disappointing.

MELINDA: Yes, that’s absolutely the case. I love romance, I really, really do, and I always want to like these when we decide to dig into them. I expect we haven’t quite given up on them yet!

MICHELLE: I expect you’re right. Maybe next time we should try ones with more staid titles, like Pilgrim’s Castle. Though probably it is light on actual pilgrims.

MELINDA: I suspect that’s actually a blessing.

MICHELLE: I don’t know; at least they probably wouldn’t be accepting pregnancy with a cavalier attitude!

MELINDA: Perhaps not, but I’d hate to see the outfits. And the dialogue? I think we’re better off in billionaire showbiz boss territory.

MICHELLE: Don’t forget the babies and brides!

Check out more Harlequin manga at eManga.com. And join us again next week for an all new Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Ayako

February 24, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 23 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, Michelle and I take a break from our regular format to focus on a single title, Osamu Tezuka’s Ayako, published in English by Vertical, Inc.

MELINDA: So, Michelle, read anything incredibly depressing lately?

MICHELLE: Ha! Y’know, I actually found Ayako more confounding than depressing. Perhaps that’s because I just recently read some Barefoot Gen, which is an even bigger downer.

MELINDA: Oh, interesting. What confounded you so about it? Or are we just getting ahead of ourselves with a question like that?

MICHELLE: I think possibly we are, but in general, I just couldn’t figure out what the whole point of it all was. What exactly was Tezuka trying to say? Perhaps that’s something you can help me with.

MELINDA: I do have some ideas about that, yes. To make things easier on ourselves and our readers, though, maybe we should start with the basic plot. Want to take a stab at it?

MICHELLE: Somehow I knew my summarizin’ skills would be called upon! :) Spoilers ahead.

The story begins in 1949, when former POW Jiro Tenge returns home after the war to a chilly reception from his father, Sakuemon, who is described as arrogant, lecherous, and “thoroughly contemptible,” and learns that he has a new little sister. The girl, Ayako, is the product of Sakuemon’s liaison with his daughter-in-law Su’e, who has been offered up by her husband (Jiro’s elder brother) in exchange for a larger share of Sakuemon’s inheritance. Jiro is appropriately creeped out.

At first it seems like he’s going to be the sane one amidst his bizarre family, but then it’s revealed that he betrayed many of his countrymen at the POW camp and is currently spying for the occupying American forces. When they instruct him to convey a particular corpse onto railroad tracks, he complies, and when Ayako and a playmate later see him washing blood off his shirt, spirals into desperate attempts to cover up his crime, which ultimately leads to Ayako being imprisoned in a storehouse for 23 years while her family members either abandon or violate her.

Ayako finally escapes in 1972 and flees to Tokyo. Jiro, who has changed his name and is now the boss of what seems to be a crime syndicate, has been sending her money for ages and she mistakenly believes he’s her benefactor. Some dogged investigators won’t let up on Jiro and, finally, he ends up fleeing back home where all the offending family members get trapped in a cave-in and eventually die, except for Ayako. The end.

MELINDA: I know I was cruel to make you be the one to do that, but somehow I knew that if anyone could summarize 700 pages of human selfishness and degradation into a few short paragraphs, it would be you. :D

MICHELLE: I really don’t know where to begin with describing the depths of the degradation, honestly. Everyone in the Tenge family is guilty of something. You have the men, who are more obviously guilty of crimes like murder and incest, but the women are equally to blame, for allowing Ayako to be imprisoned and abandoning her to her fate. Nearly everyone wants to possess Ayako for some reason—even the policeman’s son, who attempts to acclimate her to the outside world, says, “Ayako is mine!!!”—while she herself equates feelings of affection with physical love, and so tries to put the moves on various inappropriate people.

There’s substantial violence against women, too, and for a while I thought the book was misogynistic. The only slightly strong female character seemed to be the fellow spy Jiro takes up with for a while, but after an absurdly comical seduction scene she becomes clingy. “Just don’t ever ditch me,” she implores him. But then I realized that the men are all portrayed just as horribly, too. They’re all greedy, sleazy, lust-driven cretins. It stopped looking like misogyny and more like outright misanthropy.

MELINDA: I don’t think misanthropy is a misread, and it’s an interesting viewpoint from Tezuka, who, though never shy about exposing the darkest aspects of humanity, has in the other works of his that I’ve read still found some kind of hope in it all… something of humanity worth treasuring. Yet here, as you say, everyone is contemptible in some way. All the men are morally wretched beasts, and all the women are helpless to stop them, eventually becoming complicit in Ayako’s ongoing abuse by their inaction. Even Shiro, the youngest of Ayako’s “brothers,” who for the longest time appears to be the one member of the family genuinely interested in doing the right thing (even to his own peril), is eventually corrupted by his own lust, to the point of being just as awful as any of them.

Only Ayako, who is not really a person at all in the construct of the story, remains innocent. And it’s a twisted kind of “innocent” that makes her really unfit to interact with anyone (not that this is a huge loss).

MICHELLE: I wonder if part of Tezuka’s intent was to subvert the audience’s expectation that a hero of sorts would appear. At first, Jiro appears the likely candidate, but that falls through. “Okay, Shiro then,” I thought, since he was such an honest little kid, but he succumbs to temptation and beds Ayako. Finally there’s Hanao, the young man Ayako cohabitates with, who remains more virtuous than anyone else, but still thinks of her as an object. Why did everyone want to possess her, anyway? Is it simply that she’s malleable and nubile?

MELINDA: I wonder if he just thinks a hero is impossible in Japan of that time. He’s obviously got a lot to say about post-war Japan and the American occupation. He illustrates both the sickness of old Japan (evident in the Tenge patriarch’s unchecked urges) and the sickness of the new (Jiro’s treachery, the government’s treatment of its socialist factions), and presents them as pretty much incurable ills. In Kate’s review, she suggests that it isn’t much of a stretch to see Ayako as a symbol for Japan, abused from all sides, and I have to say that makes a lot of sense to me.

MICHELLE: Ooh, that’s very deep. I’m afraid that thought didn’t even come close to occurring to me. Her eventual accommodation to and preference for remaining isolated and confined takes on a whole new meaning now.

MELINDA: I hadn’t thought of it in terms of a symbol that big, either, so I can’t take credit. But it seems clear that Ayako really is nothing more than a symbol, and Japan in particular makes a lot of sense. Thinking too, of the inappropriate appetites Ayako develops, without even really understanding what they’re about… it really could be seen as a pretty scathing view of western influence on modern Japan.

Grand symbolism aside, though, I think there’s a lot here being said about the insidiousness of moral corruption… the way it seeps into those who touch it until they become embodiments of the corruption around them. No one escapes, really, and Tezuka takes that to a stunningly literal point by having them actually die in a cave. He goes so far with it, it begins to feel clumsy and overstated. I mean, it’s powerful, there’s really no denying that, but more heavy-handed than is usual even for Tezuka.

MICHELLE: Poor Japan. It just wanted to stay happily in the cellar, but then it read a women’s magazine and now it wants to have the sex.

And yes, you’re right. I particularly found Shiro’s about-face very abrupt. There he is, saying, “I’ve let myself get drenched head t’toe in all th’ Tenge sewage” in a way that suggests he regrets what has happened, but then on the next page he’s dismissing the fact that Su’e was murdered by her husband and declaring, “I’m gonna keep violatin’ Ayako.” What? Shouldn’t there be at least more guilt or something first? I get that Tezuka needed to move the story along, since it spans such a long time, but this development definitely felt clunky to me.

MELINDA: I wonder if Tezuka betrayed himself a little bit here. You know, there he is, working so hard to show that everyone is inevitably corruptible when placed in an environment of such corruption, and he’s created this powerfully honest kid to make his point. Yet here you are, utterly unconvinced. Maybe that’s his own little shred of hope, betraying him in the background. :)

MICHELLE: Well, I am convinced that Shiro has turned into someone just as contemptible as the rest of them. It was just the speed of the progression that made me adopt my dubious face.

But, y’know, as much as we have mixed feelings about the work in general, it’s a testament to Tezuka’s skills that I devoured 700 pages with relative ease, and even though there were really no characters to care about—Ayako, as you mentioned, is largely a cipher—the momentum of the story kept me interested to the end.

MELINDA: Oh, absolutely. There’s nothing enjoyable about Ayako, and I wouldn’t say it’s Tezuka in his element. It’s too persistently dark, without enough contrast to gracefully make his point. But I listed it as one of the best manga of last year, because even with all that, it’s still masterful. The visual storytelling is incredibly compelling–I was transfixed by Tezuka’s artwork throughout, even in parts of the story I found most distasteful. A scene in which Shiro is having sex with Ayako, for instance, and the two of them are transported through the skylight (Ayako’s only connection with the world outside her prison) into the night sky… it’s really beautiful, and even moving. Yet it’s one of the more sickening sections of the story, which in a story like this is saying quite a bit.

MICHELLE: By contrast, I snickered heartily at the phallic imagery at play in the scene where Jiro seduces the female spy. It reads as ludicrous to me, but who knows, maybe at the time it was scandalous or something.

MELINDA: Ha! Yes, that’s perhaps an unfortunate side-effect of this having been created in the 1970s. Sort of the sequential art equivalent of the leisure suit.

MICHELLE: One particularly effective visual passage that I recall happens after Ayako has gone to live with Hanao. He’s gone off for some reason and one of Jiro’s goons sneaks in the window and attempts to ravish her, only to be thwarted by Hanao’s dad. There are about six pages in a row where the panel perspective and size is identical—the interior of this small bedroom—and I thought it was pretty effective in showing that even such an ordinary space can be the venue for violence and commotion. Plus, there are several pages broken up into unique panel arrangements the likes of which I’ve never seen anywhere else.

MELINDA: Oh, I know exactly the passage you mean! Yes, there is something really effective about that scene, with the bed sitting there looking so normal all the time. Also, the stationary perspective reminds me of watching a play.

One sequence early on I think works really well, is the set of pages in which Jiro’s accessory to murder is carried out. It’s raining throughout, and we see the train come through and run over the victim, segueing into the older sister waiting for her lover to return on the train. There’s almost no dialogue at all, over the course of several pages, and even one of the few bits that’s there, the sister’s, “No one’s gotten off at all,” actually seems unnecessary.

MICHELLE: It’s a very noir kind of feeling.

MELINDA: Indeed.

MICHELLE: Talking about that first dirty job reminds me that I found the whole “who at GHQ hired me?” part tacked on at the end to be very random and kind of boring. I never could get very interested in that aspect of the story, and I didn’t understand either how Jiro evidently used the bomb provided by Kinjo to kill the female spy (Machiko?) instead of the American officer he was supposed to target, and yet still got to keep the money and be partners with the guy for the next twenty years.

MELINDA: I agree, that was the least interesting aspect of the story to me. While I can see why Tezuka wanted to let Jiro escape his fate back home and end up even profiting from it–his affluence and lifestyle change allow Ayako to poignantly mistake him for someone good in her life–the trappings of it all seem pretty clumsy.

MICHELLE: So, I guess what we’re getting at is, the story and characters are not the best, but it’s still a really well-made manga with some possibly deep themes that could escape a casual audience. I mean, I personally classify it as a keeper.

MELINDA: Yes, I think that’s exactly what we’re getting at. Though Ayako is problematic in some ways, it’s also a genuine work of art. I’d consider it an essential part of anyone’s manga library.

MICHELLE: I couldn’t have said it better myself.

Off the Shelf: Boob-free living

February 9, 2011 by Michelle Smith and Melinda Beasi 5 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, we take a look at some recent releases from Viz Media and Tokyopop.

MELINDA: So, here we are again, ready for our usual column. Is it just me who’s thinking, “How can we ever top the boobs episode?”

MICHELLE: Actually, it’s a relief to me that this week’s column is boob-free! Not that I refuse to consider the notion of a sequel at some point down the line.

MELINDA: So, what boob-free fare have you been gratefully consuming this week? :D

MICHELLE: Completely at random, both manga I plan to talk about are written by someone named Yuuki! First up is the debut volume of Itsuwaribito, by Yuuki Iinuma and published under VIZ’s Shonen Sunday imprint.

As a child, Utsuho Azako was so trusting that he innocently divulged all the details about the layout and defenses of his home to a group of bandits, which resulted in mass slaughter. Now in his adolescence, he’s being cared for by a monk in the “Valley of Orphans” and maintains that it’s better to be an itsuwaribito—one skilled in sneaking, tricking, beating, and stealing—than to be an honest fool. When the valley is the target of still more bandits and everyone except Utsuho is killed, he resolves to use his gift for lying for good and to save a thousand people in the kindly monk’s stead.

Utsuho heads out on his journey and quickly encounters a talking tanuki caught in a trap. The tanuki, whom Utsuho christens “Pochi,” is positively adorable. Trusting to a fault, he keeps falling for the trick of a hunter who claims he will return Pochi’s mother if Pochi will meet him at a certain time and place, which provides Utusho his first chance to help someone by lying. Afterwards, he and Pochi help a reluctant bandit leave his gang and a young doctor to save his patient from the sway of a charlatan.

Aside from one particularly nice moment—when Utsuho invites Pochi to travel with him, he says, “We’re not related by blood so it’s not true. It’s a lie, but I’ll be your family”—Itsuwaribito is pretty uninspiring. The villains are as superficial as they come, and there’s no suspense at all as to whether Utsuho will best them. In a bizarre juxtaposition, these silly, tongue-lolling foes are also apt to dispense some fairly graphic violence. It’s very strange because this feels so much like a teen-rated title, until the top of someone’s head is being sliced off.

I haven’t completely given up on Itsuwaribito, but I would say this is probably something to investigate via the library before committing to purchase.

MELINDA: Well, I think teens generally appreciate things like heads being sliced and so on. :D I admit this title looked uninspiring to me, even on a surface level. I’m sorry to hear there’s not much more to dig for.

MELINDA: Ah, no. Definitely no woodland creatures, and the only joke I can think of to follow that up with is dirty, so I’ll refrain. I do have a Yuki, though! First off this week, I made good on one of my promised second chances by reading volume five of Yuki Yoshihara’s Butterflies, Flowers. Though I’d really enjoyed the first volume of this series, things went rapidly downhill for me as I became unable to stomach some of the story’s sexual politics. Still, after having privately decided to dump the series, continued praise from some folks whose taste I usually share made me wonder what I was missing.

After promising to give it a second chance, I picked up volume four, and was shocked by how easily it won me back to the series. That volume completely charmed me by being made up of mostly the same smart, over-the-top comedy that wooed me in the first place. So when Viz sent me volume five for review, I was actually looking forward to digging in.

Surprisingly, the volume launched itself from pretty shaky ground, beginning with a couple of chapters devoted to Choko and Masayuki’s collective angst over whether or not to live together. Though there were a few laughs sprinkled throughout these chapters, the storyline veered a bit too much into serious romance mode for me to fully enjoy them. Fortunately, the story’s next chapters (revolving around Masayuki’s sudden onset of impotence) jumped right back into comedy, which is definitely my preferred tone for this series.

Though Yoshihara continues to push my limits with regards to controlling men as romantic leads, she really satisfies my sense of humor, and that’s difficult to beat. All told, I’m glad I gave this series a second chance, and I’m genuinely looking forward to more.

MICHELLE: This is excellent news! I’ve been planning to catch up on this series myself, and now I’m even more motivated to do so. One of the things I particularly remember from the earlier volumes is Masayuki’s abrupt changes in character between domineering jerk and solicitous sweetie. It was hard to get a handle on his personality. Any progress in that arena in recent volumes?

MELINDA: He’s still both of those things, definitely, but Yoshihara is dealing with him pretty well by making fun of his vulnerabilities pretty mercilessly. That definitely helps to put the domineering jerk in his place. :D

So, what else have you got for us this week? More woodland creatures?

MICHELLE: No, no woodland creatures, but no shortage of cuteness despite their absence! My second pick is the second volume of The Stellar Six of Gingacho, by my second Yuuki, Yuuki Fujimoto.

As you know, this is a slice-of-life story about six friends who grew up helping out at their parents’ shops along the Gingacho Street Market. In the second volume, we fast forward a little so that everyone has now just entered high school. Structurally, this volume is very similar to the first, including a couple of chapters in which the friends band together to help out a neighbor in need, first at a flower shop being victimized by a vandal and then at a short-handed bento shop that’s swamped at its grand opening.

These are lighthearted stories, saved from becoming repetitive by awesome scenes like child-like Mike taking the bento shop’s elementary-aged daughter—who’s upset at having moved away from all her friends—around the market and pointing out everything that makes it awesome. Mike naturally knows just what to say to make a kid feel comfortable and interested, and by the end of their journey, a layer of subtle screentoned sparkles conveys how thoroughly Mike has brought the magic of the place to life for this unwilling transplant. It kind of made me verklempt.

The first volume focused primarily on Mike and her best friend, Kuro, and while I like both of them a lot, I was hoping future volumes would spend more time with their friends. Alas, that is not to be, as there’s a fair amount of material here about Mike and Kuro’s relationship and how Mike is utterly oblivious to the fact that Kuro is in love with her. Although she would say she knows nothing about love, she still refuses to lose Kuro to anything, be it another school, another sports team, or another girl. It’s a little frustrating that Kuro doesn’t just tell her already, but perhaps he’s waiting for her to be not quite so dense first.

Another aspect of the story that is both good and bad is the propensity of adults to comment on the kids’ friendship. When Kei-san, the owner of the flower shop, tells Mike, “There’s nothing that doesn’t change,” it works. I am a sucker for bittersweet nostalgia, and moments like these imply that perhaps the kids will drift apart despite their pledges not to let that happen. However, when even random passerby feel the need to call out, “Just how long do you think it’s gonna last? Forever?” then it becomes a bit much.

In the end, The Stellar Six of Gingacho is a series that may look a little generic on the surface, but has a special charm all its own.

MELINDA: I *really* enjoyed the first volume of this series and I’m quite excited to read this one, even taking into account your few caveats. I, too, had hoped that we’d see more of Mike’s other friends in future volumes, though it certainly helps that I really *like* both Mike and Kuro, so it’s not like I’ll be sad to see more of them. And the scene you describe with Mike and the little new girl sounds absolutely delightful.

Has your enthusiasm for the series waned at all after this volume?

MICHELLE: Not a bit! At first I might’ve been a little, “Oh, here we go again” regarding the neighbor-helping, but when I later ended up a mite sniffly I put aside all my doubts. This one’s a keeper.

Can you say the same for your next book?

MELINDA: You know, I think I can. This week, I checked out the third volume of Bakuman, Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata’s tale of aspiring teen mangaka. This series has taken a beating from bloggers (occasionally including me) for things like sexism, lazy romance, and an unrealistic setup for the teens’ entry into the industry. Still, I named it one of my top two new shounen series for 2010, and this volume actually cements that decision in my mind.

Though Mashiro and Takagi have now experienced some success with a third-place one-shot in Akamaru Jump, their next step brings them mostly frustration, and even puts them at odds with their editor, who doesn’t believe that trying to create something mainstream is the right move for them at all. Personally, things are becoming strained as well, as Takagi starts spending more time with his girlfriend and Mashiro takes a position as an assistant to a rival artist.

Usually my favorite part of a story is where everything goes wrong, and this is where we are now (at least for the moment) in Bakuman. I’m especially pleased that Ohba and Obata are able to balance the typical shounen perseverance with some real doubt and bitterness as well. Though it seems unlikely that our heroes will remain apart for long, their separation doesn’t feel forced at all, and there are some hard realities for both of them to face here.

Reduced presence of Mashiro’s awkward romance is definitely a plus in this volume, with extra points for the prevalence of Takagi’s, which is actually pretty interesting to watch. One of this volume’s strong points, too, is some extended screen time for their eccentric rival, Eiji Nizuma, who is possibly my favorite character in the series at this point.

Most of all, however, I’m still really enjoying this look at the fairly calculated world of Jump, alternately inspiring and chilling, whether that was the authors’ intention or not.

MICHELLE: I really like Bakuman, even though I have totally complained about the things you mentioned, so the developments in this volume sound quite welcome. Like you, I find the insight into the workings of Jump to be the very best thing about this series. I suppose it’s too much to hope that Mashiro realizes that his arrangement with his sort of girlfriend is really stupid.

MELINDA: Probably, though I’m finding it much less distracting at this point, so perhaps we can hope that it might actually become interesting?

MICHELLE: I suppose there is at least a small chance that might happen!

MELINDA: We live in hope.

MICHELLE: Hey, is that a Rutles reference?!

MELINDA: Not deliberately, but it could have been! :D

Tune in next week for this month’s BL Bookrack, and then again the week after for an all new Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Boobalicious

February 3, 2011 by Michelle Smith and Melinda Beasi 16 Comments

MICHELLE: Welcome to a rather… special edition of Off the Shelf! Before we launch into our selections today, I wanted to provide a little background. Y’see, although I genuinely love a very wide spectrum of manga, no matter the demographic to which it’s aimed, there’s still one genre from which I instinctively steer clear: the blatantly fanservicey. When two debut series, each putting its cover to boobalicious use, were released in the same month, I decided to challenge myself to read them, hoping that beneath the titillating exterior I’d find a good story that I would’ve otherwise missed.

MELINDA: Boobies!

MICHELLE: Er, yes. Anyway, I enlisted Melinda to participate in this experiment along with me, which brings us to this evening’s mammarian extravaganza.

How went your forays into fanservice?

MELINDA: Well, they were mixed, to be sure. I’ll start from the bottom (so to speak) and move up. My first ultra-servicey selection was Mario Kaneda’s Saving Life, published in English by TOKYOPOP.

Haruhiko is a rich high school kid who has left home to escape his father’s influence. Living on his own is tougher than Haruhiko imagined. He’s pretty lonely in his new digs, and has even filled the place up with scavenged (mostly broken) appliances just to make the place feel less empty. On top of that, money troubles send him scraping for part-time jobs and scrounging for change from his school’s vending machines. Fortunately, his two closest childhood friends, Yoriko and Nanako (who just happen to be totally boobalicious babes) are waiting to come to the rescue!

Haruhiko’s accident-prone and super-clumsy (unless he’s working), so much of the story so far consists of him accidentally falling into one (or both) of the girls, often while they’re nearly naked, and there’s always some kind of water-related incident coming into play just in time to ensure that the girls’ clothes get soaked through.

Obviously story was never the point here, and Kaneda barely tries. I have to give high marks to the boobs, though. While it’s established early on that Haruhiko is an ass man, Kaneda doesn’t skimp on the chest area in the slightest. They’re all on the large side (but not toooo large), and Kaneda brings them into focus pretty much whenever possible. The worst part of this series’ fanservice is its contrived human pile-ups and blushing-shy-girl cheesecake poses the female characters are constantly maneuvered into.

I assume that this series’ target audience knows what it’s getting into here. Unfortunately, despite its perfectly nice boobies, I can’t recommend it for anyone else.

MICHELLE: Your description reminds me of the the time I tried to read Negima!. Though I’ve heard it develops a plot later on, the first volume was almost entirely girls tripping and sprawling over the young protagonist or him accidentally walking into someone’s bountiful bosom.

You bring up a good point: characterization counts with boobalicious ladies! Badass ones, like Revy from Black Lagoon (as seen here) do not trouble me one bit, especially if it seems that they dress the way they do because they want to and not to catch some fella’s eye. Boobalicious girls who simper and are brainless, however, make steam come out of my ears.

MELINDA: What’s a little sad, is that both Yoriko and Nanako have some interesting character traits and they’re generally not weak. But they’re always weak when Kaneda is overtly sexing them up, which is pretty gross to me.

So what bountiful bosoms do you have to share tonight?

MICHELLE: Interestingly, both of my picks are disaster/survival stories, so they’ve got much more plot than Saving Life seems to have.

First up is Highschool of the Dead, by Daisuke and Shouji Sato, a fast-paced action movie sort of manga in which a sudden zombie outbreak at Fujimi High School is just the latest development in a more widespread epidemic. A few resourceful students manage to escape the carnage, after many scenes in which classmates maul and/or kill one another, and the volume ends with the small band poised to check on their families and gauge the condition of the rest of the town.

Does it matter that I haven’t given you any characters’ names? No, not really. You’ve got the hotheaded guy, the girl who was his childhood friend, a geeky dude, a smart girl, the cool and composed female kendo captain, et cetera. No one has any depth, and a few things don’t make much sense, but at least some of the girls are given the opportunity to be strong and useful.

It’s certainly not a great manga, but I enjoyed it well enough—about on par with how I enjoy Raiders, another zombie-related Yen Press title—to want to see what happens next. (Plus, it earns a few bonus points for what might have been a Shaun of the Dead reference.)

But oh, the boobs. They are hideous. I think Kate Dacey called them something like “distended lemons,” and there’s really no better way to put it. The ones on the cover are bad enough—that pose is impossible and her arm looks like it’s on backwards!—but worse lurk within. I have seen my share of bodacious boobs, but never any that were so huge that they had to extend beyond the panel’s border! Behold:

Those are not attractive bosoms. Those are head-scratchingly bizarre bosoms. How can one pay attention to a zombie uprising whenever these avocados of doom keep thrusting themselves in one’s face?

MELINDA: Well, heavens. You know, I was so distracted by the hilariously unnecessary panty shots when I read this manga, I somehow missed the strange, missile-shaped boobs entirely. Also, I’m quite taken with the phrase, “avocados of doom.”

MICHELLE: Oh god, yes. Even scenes that I wanted to like for their grim depiction of human nature—for example, a pair of girls whose eternal friendship lasts precisely as long as it takes one of them to fall into a zombie’s clutches—are marred by gratuitous panty shots. I really don’t get the appeal. I conducted an informal poll of two whole guys and neither of them found it sexy, either. They could’ve been dissembling, I suppose, but I doubt it.

MELINDA: That was really the saddest thing about this book, wasn’t it? There was some stuff to say, after all. It may not be the most original stuff–this ground has been covered pretty extensively in nearly every medium-but it was there. Still, it’s the fanservice that drives the series, which is just kinda… icky.

MICHELLE: Yeah. In the end, I’ll be back for volume two, but I won’t be expecting much.

I take it you liked your second selection more than the first.

MELINDA: I did in a way, though not for itself, actually. My second pick was volume one of Spice & Wolf, adapted by Keito Koume from Isuna Hasekura’s novels. Yen Press is publishing both concurrently, which on one hand is pretty cool, but on the other, really exposes the weaknesses of the adaptation.

Kraft Lawrence is a traveling merchant who, after encountering a village harvest festival in the midst of his travels, discovers that the village’s harvest “god” (a 600-year-old wolf-spirit named Holo, who appears as a teen girl with a wolf’s ears and tail) has stowed away on his wagon. Anxious to return to her northern homeland, Holo begs to join Kraft on his travels, and though he’s initially a bit wary, Kraft agrees. As it turns out, 600 years of observing mankind has given Holo a great sense for both business and human nature, so she’s pretty useful as a merchant’s companion. Unfortunately, with the church so much in power, her supernatural appearance poses a threat to her survival.

This premise sounds fascinating, and honestly it is. But wordy explanations of medieval economics don’t necessarily translate well into visual storytelling, and unfortunately that’s what happens here. While the series’ first novel is a pretty good read, especially for fantasy fans who are weary of the usual swords and magic stuff, the manga’s debut volume plods endlessly along, so unsuited to full visual treatment, the illustrations feel like they’re actually in the way of the story.

Furthermore, while Jyuu Ayakura’s original character designs offer just the slightest taste of fanservice–more than enough, in my view, when the lead female reads visually as a very young teen–the manga’s prolonged nude scenes end up feeling just creepy. Holo’s childlike, impish expressions may be cute when she’s conning another merchant, but coupled with color pages filled with nude poses, it’s another story indeed.

In the end, I’d recommend picking up the novels, but leaving the manga alone. With a title this popular, I’m sure there are plenty of Holo artbooks out there for those who require their sexy teen fix.

Unlike Saving Life, Spice & Wolf gives Holo the full bare-breasted treatment, and since even I feel creepy discussing this with a character who looks so young, I’ll refrain from attempting to rate them.

MICHELLE: I have seen the adjective “creepy” applied to Holo’s nude scenes before, which is why I have no intention of reading the manga adaptation of a light novel series with such a unique and interesting concept. This is another case where I just have to go, “Why?” Do you think it’s partly to compensate for the elements of the story that fail to translate well to a more visual medium?

MELINDA: Well, this may be an unfair assumption, but it seems to me like it’s just for the purpose of pleasing male fans who aren’t able to fantasize on their own with the prose.

MICHELLE: Could be, though I’m sure plenty of guys find this all creepy, too.

MELINDA: Well to be clear, I’m sure that lack of imagination doesn’t apply to all men. :)

So, what was your second boobalicious book?

MICHELLE: My second pick was the first volume of Lives, a new two-volume series from TOKYOPOP. Like Highschool of the Dead, it wastes little time getting to the disaster du jour—a rain of asteroids that appears to kill a few people who then, mysteriously, wake up unharmed in a jungle. It quickly becomes clear that all of the creatures there were at one point human and that many are unable to overcome the urges that compel them to attack and eat their fellow mancritters. There’s no explanation for this—unless you count the nude angel who descends to inform a schoolgirl she was perfectly right to eat her brother—and I’m a little concerned that there won’t ever be much of one, given that there’s only one more volume in the series and that this one spends far too many pages on a subplot about intra-dojo rivalry.

The fanservice is not quite as intrusive as in Highschool of the Dead, though there are still visuals like topless, disemboweled corpses that I could have done without. What bothers me more is the characterization of the women. The fact that the girl on the cover is wearing very little, for example, is less troubling than the fact that she looks completely dazed and vacant. Another female character is introduced as the most competent member of a sexy singing group, but she very quickly loses any cool points she might have possessed by blushingly making out with her skeevy manager about two minutes after her bandmates have been viciously slaughtered.

Scattered storytelling and weak women don’t do much to encourage me to keep reading, but since there is only one more volume I will probably be a completist and read it, even though I expect that it will be lame.

MELINDA: But what about the boobs, Michelle? You’re missing what’s really important here.

MICHELLE: They’re your standard big bazongas. Improbably huge and round and bouncy, but at least they won’t poke your eye out.

MELINDA: And so we give thanks for small blessings.

MICHELLE: Ha, yeah. Ultimately, I’m glad I didn’t let the fanservice keep me from reading these two books. Perhaps I fared better than you did in terms of my selections actually having plots—I still can’t picture myself reading an ecchi romantic comedy, really—but though they weren’t that good, they weren’t that bad, either.

MELINDA: Agreed. :)

Amazon.com Widgets

Join us again next week for an all new Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Karakuri Odette

January 19, 2011 by Michelle Smith and Melinda Beasi 2 Comments

MICHELLE: Hello, Off the Shelf readers! Melinda and I are devoting this week’s column to Karakuri Odette, the topic for this month’s Manga Moveable Feast hosted at Manga Report. I had read some of this series before the MMF was announced, but Melinda never had. That has since been rectified!

Melinda, it has taken a lot of self-control not to pester you with repeated, “Did you like it? Did you like it?” inquiries this past week. And of course I’d like to know that, but I’d also like to ask what you expected Karakuri Odette might be like going into it and how it compared to your expectations.

MELINDA: I have to say that I actually had very few expectations going in, other than knowing that it was shoujo that you like and having a vague sense of what that means. And in those uncertain terms, I’d say it fulfilled my expectations entirely. Probably the series it most reminds me of is Kimi ni Todoke–a prime example of “shoujo Michelle likes” if there ever was such a thing. Its tone is similarly good-hearted, and there are actually quite a few similarities between Odette and Sawako in that both of them are really learning to be high school girls for the very first time. That robot Odette seems to accomplish this more easily than human Sawako says quite a bit about both of them and the worlds they inhabit.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I tend to like a lot of those good-hearted shoujo series (many of which were serialized in Margaret or one of its offshoots). And you’re absolutely right about the similarities between Odette and Sawako. Both, for example, have people around them who *like* someone, which is a concept somewhat alien to heroines who are happy enough just to have some friends! So they both must learn what liking someone actually entails. As of volume five, Odette hasn’t really figured that out yet, and Sawako gets it by volume four or so, so the human’s not too far ahead!

MELINDA: Well, though Odette may not have figured it out intellectually, she’s certainly got the symptoms! This is actually something I wanted to bring up with you. Odette has clearly picked up some genuine emotion along the way, and while this is certainly not a sci-fi series by any means, that’s still a pretty big deal for a robot in any universe. It seems clear, too, that mangaka Julietta Suzuki is charting a romantic course for Odette with Asao, one way or another. How do you feel about that? Does this at all impair your ability to suspend disbelief? And should Suzuki ultimately not go down that road, how will you feel about this as a shoujo manga?

I’m personally torn on both these questions, so I’m curious to hear your take on it all.

MICHELLE: Ooh, what a good question. I have vastly enjoyed Odette’s gradual acquisition of feelings, because Suzuki’s take on it has been laudably understated. Odette’s growing interest in Asao doesn’t impair my ability to suspend disbelief, because honestly I think accepting the whole robot protagonist concept in the first place means one has given blanket acceptance to all sorts of things. I like that she’s beginning to see him in this light, particularly because he was introduced as having feelings for someone else and, so far, does not seem to be thinking of Odette in a romantic light. I always admire series that go for the unexpected ending, so seeing Odette and Asao together at the end would be somewhat of a disappointment, actually. In my ideal ending, she realizes that she loves him, recognizes that he doesn’t love her, and is totally happy that she understands the feeling, even if it must remain unrequited.

An even worse case scenario than Odette ending up with Asao would be to see her paired up with either of the robot boys who seem interested in her. Chris is just too bland, and Travis just too flamboyant.

MELINDA: Poor Chris! He works so hard only to be labeled “bland!” ;) I think Chris is an especially sympathetic character, actually, because he’s most likely not capable of ever understanding Odette fully or catching up with her at all. He’s simply not an advanced enough robot. Yet if there’s anything he’s learned to actually want it is to please Odette so that he can continue to be with her. It’s subtly written and heartbreaking to watch. And really not that different from some tragic human relationships I’ve seen in my day.

MICHELLE: Well, when you put it that way! Poor Chris, indeed! It’s not that I dislike him—perhaps what I mean is that a relationship with Asao would be more challenging for Odette and prompt further progress toward humanity. Though, of course, I suppose it could say something creepy about Asao if he wanted to date a robot, even one as awesome as Odette.

MELINDA: Yes, I suppose that’s true. It’s hard to really keep a handle on concepts like that in this series’ universe, where there seem to be robots turning up all the time. This is actually the one aspect of the series I’m not completely sold on at this point. I am enjoying the story of Odette. Where better for any character to learn to be a “girl” than in the pages of a shoujo manga? But though I’ve liked most of the other robots who have turned up in the story, there have been so many of them at this point, it actually is beginning to wear on my ability to suspend disbelief. Or perhaps it’s that too many robots are muddying the waters. This may seem unreasonable, I realize. If I’ve already accepted one robot in the story, what’s keeping me from accepting five? But somehow Odette losing the uniqueness of her existence makes it progressively harder for me to take her circumstances seriously.

I like this manga, I really do. But I wish there were fewer robots. Does that make any sense at all?

MICHELLE: It does, and I get your point. It’s been a while since I read the first three volumes, but I recall a more social robot appearing there against which Odette measures herself. I suppose that’s useful for her, but the pair of robots introduced in volume five feels completely superfluous to me. There are already enough guys (human and mechanical) who are interested in Odette—we didn’t need another. I have a feeling they were introduced only as accessories to their creator, who is probably going to do something dastardly in the final volume.

MELINDA: Yes, I believe this feeling really did kick in with the introduction of Travis and Grace. It’s not that they’re bad characters, but they feel really incidental to Odette’s story. Honestly, I feel the same way about their sinister creator. This story doesn’t need that kind of melodrama to survive. It was so much more than that when we were just watching Odette learn how to be human.

MICHELLE: Definitely. I reviewed volumes four and five together and liked the former—which focuses largely on Odette’s friendship with sheltered rich girl, Shirayuki—much more than the latter. I wonder whether you share my affection for Shirayuki. I was quite impressed that Suzuki-sensei introduced a new significant character into the cast so seamlessly. She functions as a kind of Sawako, actually. Someone who has shunned human contact and so provides Odette a friend who is also experiencing some commonplace things for the first time.

MELINDA: I do like her quite a bit, yes! Though I’ve felt that since Shiayuki started attending school with Odette, the author has conveniently ignored her condition, for the most part. We’ve watched Shirayuki go through some rough times, but I can’t recall anything that’s actually had to do with the fact that she hears people’s thoughts whenever they touch her. It was supposedly this huge, terrifying issue that had cut her off from her family and society, but now that she’s in society, it seems to have ceased to exist, at least to any significant extent. So what was the problem again? I like the character, but maybe she really didn’t need that trait to be the person the author wanted to write.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I noticed that, too. And I wasn’t sure how she initially concludes Odette will never lie to her based solely on the fact that she can’t hear Odette’s thoughts, either. I think you’re right that that trait wasn’t necessary and probably Suzuki realized it, too. It must speak highly of my fondness for this series that I, usually such a stickler about plot continuity and the like, am willing to forgive and forget the mishandling of Shirayuki’s ability just because I like the character so much.

MELINDA: And it’s funny, you know I generally don’t care all that much about such things, so you know it all must be really, really obvious. :D Still, I’ll forgive this series nearly anything because I just really like Odette. She’s a wonderfully written character, and that’s something that hasn’t changed in the slightest over the course of the series so far. In fact, I’d say some of the best writing involving her happens in volume five, when she’s struggling over her irritation with Chris. In those moments, she’s both authentically human and authentically not at the same time. It’s brilliantly written. And while I wish the writing was more consistent, I’m not actually unhappy.

MICHELLE: I wonder, since you read Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss first, do you prefer it over Karakuri Odette? It’s a later work, so will probably be more polished (it’s hard to tell from the single volume that’s been released in English so far) but I’m not as captivated by its lead as I am by Odette. Hopefully that will change in time.

MELINDA: I think that it’s really too early to tell. I’m very attached to Odette, and I barely know Nanami at all. I will say that one thing both series have in common is their sense of humor. This is actually something I wanted to be sure to bring up here, because despite the fact that Karakuri Odette is, in many ways, a standard high school shoujo series, the humor grabs me more than most. There was one bit of dialogue, for instance, that delighted me so much, I stopped to write it down. It appears near the end of volume three, when Odette has coerced Asao into going on a double-date with her at an amusement park. Startled at Odette’s choice of date, her friend Yoko asks, half jokingly, whether they need to worry that Asao (who has a reputation for fighting) might “snap and get violent all of a sudden.” Odette responds earnestly, “It’s okay. I’ve never seen any part of Asao snap off.” It’s the tiniest thing, but I actually laughed out loud. The series is full of moments like that.

MICHELLE: It is! The interaction between Odette and the Professor is frequently amusing, as well. And it’s all humor born of the characters’ personalities and not based at all on “oh, the wacky android doesn’t understand our ways” gags or something.

MELINDA: Yes, you’re absolutely right. Even the line I mentioned, which is certainly a symptom of Odette’s inexperience with human idioms, is not overplayed. The laugh is there, but it isn’t telegraphed in that goofy gag kind of way. It’s the simplicity and honesty of it that makes it so funny.

MICHELLE: I agree. :)

So, I talked a little about what I’d like to see in the final volume. What would you like to see happen?

MELINDA: This is probably going to sound like a cop-out, but with occasional exceptions, I try to avoid expecting specific outcomes when I read. In general terms, I’d like to see some kind of satisfying conclusion for Odette (whatever that might mean), and for Chris and the Professor as well, since I’ve become quite fond of the three of them. As long as it feels like an ending, though, I’m not feeling too picky about it. Sure, a romance is always nice, but problematic in this case, as you’ve pointed out. So I think I just want to see it come to a real stopping point–one that’s hopefully positive for Odette.

MICHELLE: I can’t quarrel with that!

Check in next week for January’s installment of BL Bookrack, and then again the week after for an all new Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Sweet Surprises

January 12, 2011 by Michelle Smith and Melinda Beasi 4 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, we take a look at new releases from Viz Media and Tokyopop, as well as a continuing series fromYen Press.

MELINDA: Greetings from the land of mountainous snow!

MICHELLE: Salutations from the land of Floridians feeling put out because they have to wear gloves!

MELINDA: I hate you people.

MICHELLE: Fine. Then we’re taking back all our sweet tea.

MELINDA: I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it! Please bring back the tea!

MICHELLE: Thought so. *smugs*

MELINDA: So, while you’re feeling smug, wanna tell me what you’ve been reading?

MICHELLE: First up for me this week is Arina Tanemura’s Mistress Fortune, a one-shot due out from VIZ on February 1st. I haven’t had the best luck with Tanemura—early on, I enjoyed the anime version of Kamikaze Kaito Jeanne and the manga Full Moon o Sagashite, but was disappointed by the overpopulated and abruptly truncated Time Stranger Kyoko as well as what little I read of The Gentlemen’s Alliance Cross. Quite frankly, I expected not to like this.

At first, it seemed like I’d be right, since I rolled my eyes several times during the opening pages. The gist of the plot is thus: Kisaki is a fourteen-year-old psychic who works for a government agency fighting adorable aliens. She’s partnered with Giniro, a boy her own age, with whom she is in love but about whom she’s forbidden to ask any personal questions. Their code names are Fortune Quartz and Fortune Tiara and they focus their psychic powers by affixing cheerful star-shaped stickers to their target.

Really.

But, y’know, somehow this story managed to grow on me! I think part of it must be that Tanemura is simply better when dealing with smaller casts of characters, as in those series I mentioned liking above. Secondarily, because it’s a very relaxed, three-chapter love story it isn’t as if I went into it really expecting any sort of depth. Kisaki loves Giniro. Giniro is fixated on Kisaki’s boobs. She discovers he has angst. A very brief misunderstanding ensues. They declare their love. Spoilers? Not really; it was inevitable.

One thing that genuinely pleased me is that Tanemura’s attempts at humor are actually amusing this time. I still shudder in horror at a theoretically comical side character from Time Stranger Kyoko, but the plushie-looking alien, EBE-ko, whose dreams is to be a socialite with designer bags, is actually lively and cute. There are also a couple of fun “reaction shots” from eyewitness animals, like if something slightly naughty happens, you’ll cut to a nearby frog who says, “I saw it!”

No, Mistress Fortune is not great, but it’s certainly much better than I’d expected.

MELINDA: I actually read this recently as well, and my experience was very similar to yours. I started out rolling my eyes, but was mostly won over by the end, mainly thanks to the whimsical charm of EBE-ko. Though it’s a pretty shallow romance overall, it’s also very appropriate to the age of the characters and the tone of this short manga. I wasn’t wowed or anything, but I was pleasantly surprised.

MICHELLE: Exactly. It gave me some hope that Sakura Hime, Tanemura’s other new VIZ series (due April 5th), might be kind of fun. The Heian Era setting is encouraging, at least.

MELINDA: Agreed!

MICHELLE: Read any pleasantly surprising things this week?

MELINDA: Yes I did, actually! You know, despite your recommendation, I still wasn’t quite prepared for the utter sweetness that is Yuuki Fujimoto’s The Stellar Six of Gingacho.

For those who don’t know, the series revolves around 13-year-old Mike (pronounced “Mee-kay”) and five friends she grew up with, all from families who own food stands in a busy street market. Over the past year, as they entered middle school, the six have quietly drifted apart, each making new friends and becoming increasingly awkward with each other. Feeling the loss, Mike tries to bring the gang back together by inviting them to enter a traditional dance contest at their market’s summer festival. Though her efforts are unsuccessful at first, a mutual enemy finally puts them all on the same page.

The story is simple and not particularly suspenseful, but Mike and her friends are so likable and fun to be with, it’s a real pleasure to watch things play out.

The series’ first volume focuses mainly on Mike and her best buddy, Kuro, son of the market’s fishmonger, from whom she was inseparable until puberty came along to make their friendship more complicated. Their story is nothing new, but there’s something so fresh about the telling of it, you’d swear it was the first of its kind. The secret to this may be the fact that neither their affection nor their awkwardness is overplayed, leaving smaller moments to stand out with real poignance. A panel, for instance, in which Mike first notices that Kuro’s hands have gotten bigger than hers, is actually quite touching, though it comes and goes in the blink of an eye.

Fujimoto’s artwork is spare and not especially distinctive, though like this story, it’s surprisingly expressive. And the fact that one of the Six is a genuinely lovely, overweight girl earns about a hundred points from me.

Though the others of the Six are yet defined by fairly surface characteristics, I expect they’ll each find their moments in upcoming volumes of the series. I honestly can’t wait.

MICHELLE: Oh, I’m so glad you liked it! You mention several of the things I liked best, myself—the moment about Kuro’s hands and the overweight character who is not written off as “fat girl” and given no face or personality—and captured the appeal of the story well when you said that though the story isn’t new, something about the telling feels fresh. I do get the feeling each of the friends will receive more attention as we go along, but I like Mike a lot, so I hope we never stray too far from her perspective.

MELINDA: Yes, Mike is a lot of fun, and really it’s Fujimoto’s characterization of her that has me so looking forward to getting to know the other four kids. I have a lot of confidence that they’ll all be equally as special. Also, Mike and Kuro have such a sweet backstory, I feel certain we’ll see more of the bonds between the others as well.

So, what else have you got for us this week?

MICHELLE: I read the third and fourth volumes of Yana Toboso’s Black Butler. Despite some terrifically unfunny supporting characters, I’ve enjoyed this series from the beginning, but the third volume really takes things to a whole new level.

In this series, a thirteen-year-old named Ciel Phantomhive is the head of his family after a fire claimed the lives of his parents. To assist him in his plans for revenge he has entered into a contract with a devil who is serving him in the guise of his butler, Sebastian. The Earls of Phantomhive have always served as a “watch dog” for the crown, a duty Ciel is now expected to perform for Queen Victoria. When she sends him to London to find Jack the Ripper, he duly complies, not realizing someone from within his own family is involved.

There are probably a million historical inaccuracies in this setting, but I don’t care. I’m a sucker for Victorian England, and it’s simply a lot of fun watching Sebastian get into a fight with a chainsaw-wielding corrupt shinigami on a cobblestone street. Moreover, the change of scenery provides some respite from the entirely
incompetent servants at the Phantomhive manor.

They return in volume four, alas, along with a pretty self-proclaimed Indian prince with an impressive butler of his own. This time Ciel is in London to investigate assault crimes against Englishmen who’ve recently returned from India, but developments in the case somehow prompt the leads to contemplate entering a curry competition. I didn’t enjoy this volume as much as the third, but the emphasis on solving mysteries is pretty fun and Toboso’s art is very easy on the eyes.

MELINDA: I’m heartened a bit to hear your take on volume three, since I let this series go after the first two volumes which did very little for me. The third volume actually sounds like it might be genuinely fun. Maybe I’ll give it another look. Do you find yourself looking forward to the next volume?

MICHELLE: I do! In fact, I even pondered checking out the anime, which is a rare thing for me. If you’ve let the series lapse, I definitely recommend checking out at least volume three because it shows the potential of this series to become something genuinely fascinating.

MELINDA: I’m genuinely surprised to hear it!

MICHELLE: Now I’m genuinely hoping “fascinating” wasn’t an overstatement. I’ve at least become invested in a way I wasn’t before, which is really all one can ask for.

MELINDA: That’s good enough for me!

Join us again next week, when we’ll be discussing Karakuri Odette for a special MMF edition of Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Soap, Shoujo, & Samurai

January 5, 2011 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith Leave a Comment

Welcome to Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle, and our first column of the New Year! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, I catch up on some favorites from Yen Press and Viz Media, while Michelle shares a look at a unique “how-to” offering from Tokyopop.

MICHELLE: Hey, Melinda? Why were the little strawberries upset?

MELINDA: I dunno, why?

MICHELLE: ‘Cos they were in a jam!

MELINDA: Ba-dum-dum *chick*

MICHELLE: Thank you! I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitress.

Before you advise me not to quit my day job, perhaps I should make with the business at hand and inquire as to what you’ve been reading this week!

MELINDA: I spent the week catching up on new volumes of both a new favorite and an old one. I’ll start with the old one, which would be Park SoHee’s gloriously soapy manhwa, Goong. And I have to say, now that Yen Press has been releasing these in omnibus format, the series is more addictive than ever. Despite its soap-opera leanings, Goong moves at a brisk pace, so it reads very well in two-volume chunks.

Volume ten (consolidated from Korean volumes 11 & 12) begins with Chae-Kyung throwing both herself and her husband to the palace wolves by revealing the truth about their marriage in a live television interview. Incredibly, things only ramp up further from there to the end, making this one of the most dramatic volumes of the series so far.

What I admire most about Park SoHee, aside from her detailed, expressive artwork, is her ability to create well-rounded, morally ambiguous characters in both the “hero” and “villain” camps (particularly with the younger characters), displaying all their weaknesses, refusing to make clear distinctions between them, and yet still creating real biases and allegiances in the hearts of her readers.

Take Hyo-Rin for example. She’s certainly at odds with our heroine, Chae-Kyung, but she’s pretty well-balanced, overall. She’s equal parts “bitch” and “misunderstood victim,” and Park gives significant page time to both. As a reasonable adult, it’s clear to me that she’s just a regular teen girl stuck in a situation just as unfortunate and as unfair as Chae-Kyung’s. Yet I believe Park intends for me to really hate Hyo-Rin. Why? Because I do. I really, really do. Despite the fact that it’s incredibly juvenile of me to do so, I genuinely hate her and have, at times, wished ill upon her.

Writing a villain like a villain may not sound particularly noteworthy, but what’s brilliant about what Park does is the way she’s able to create the illusion of black and white using only shades of gray. It’s what keeps this series crisp and compelling, despite its soapy consistency. I’m impressed by it every time.

MICHELLE: The bit about you wishing ill upon Hyo-Rin literally made me crack up. Well done! And man, you have certainly stoked the flames of my love for Goong. I’ve been hoarding the past several releases with the intention of reading them soon, but now I’m tempted to reread from the beginning first the better to wallow in the melodramatic goodness that is this cracktastic series.

MELINDA: This volume is just about as melodramatic and as good as it could possibly be, and if you aren’t wishing ill upon Hyo-Rin right along with me by the end, I’ll eat my hat. :D

MICHELLE: No one ever goes through with that promise.

MELINDA: Well, I might not either. It’s a wool hat. Terrible texture. But never mind that! What have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: My pick for the week is not actually manga, but is very much about manga. I read How to Draw Shojo Manga, by the Editors of Hakusensha’s shojo magazines. The title is a bit unfortunate, because it might lull one into thinking this is simply a book about drawing, when that isn’t the case at all.

What it is is a very thorough introduction to the entire (incredibly time-consuming) process of creating manga, with specific advice and examples. I’m not talking simply “use this kind of nib for thin lines” but in-depth instruction on topics like creating outlines and storyboards, panel arrangement, the proper order for inking, using digital tools, and even how to deal with criticism. This can sometimes get quite specific, like, “It’s effective to have a panel that draws the eye to the top of the left page.”

Throughout, readers follow Ena, an aspiring manga-ka, as she creates an outline for a 16-page submission to a short story contest, moves on to the storyboard phase, and finally submits her finished product for criticism from two of Hakusensha’s editors. Obviously, the parts of this book dealing with submitting one’s story for consideration aren’t really applicable to American would-be manga-ka—unless they are fluent in Japanese, one supposes—so it’s unlikely that the claim “Follow along with us, work hard, and you will find yourself transformed into a professional shojo manga artist” will ever come to fruition. I wonder how often a book like this has actually produced success in Japan.

That said, even a casual manga fan would find this book illuminating. For a reviewer, particularly ones like us who are trying to improve our skills in artistic criticism, I’d go so far as to call it positively indispensable. There’s so much practical advice about what a manga-ka should be—and theoretically is—striving for in his/her work that I found it quite a fascinating read.

MELINDA: I have a copy of this as well, and while I haven’t read it in-depth, I was immediately struck by how different it is from the lame, obviously western takes on “shojo manga” we’ve seen in so many how-to books. It’s honestly the first one I’ve ever been sent that I had any interest at all in reading after doing a quick flip-through, and that includes all the ones I’ve actually read. Heh.

Though I expect you’re right–not too many American artists are going to be submitting their work for publication in Japan–was any of the submission advice general enough to be useful for western artists submitting their work to OEL publishers?

MICHELLE: Indeed, there is nothing lame about this book at all. And absolutely, the advice would completely apply to OEL creators. From the aspects of the craft itself to how to solicit criticism—instead of asking a friend whether they liked your work, instead ask if they understood it, for example—it’s completely applicable for western artists!

MELINDA: Now I feel even more inspired to read this!

MICHELLE: Any time I like something, I always think that you should read it, but this time I really, really mean it. I think you’ll learn a lot. I did.

Anyways, enough gushing. You hinted earlier at a new favorite. Which one might that be?

MELINDA: Ah yes, well, the new volume of a new favorite is volume two of Natsume Ono’s House of Five Leaves, one of my favorite debut series last year. As you may recall, I read volume one pretty much on a whim via the SigIKKI website, during a week in which I had little access to physical books. It’s going to be real books all the way for Five Leaves from now on, though. This series is definitely a keeper.

As this volume opens, Masa falls ill, which forces him to retire to the country under the care of Goinkyo, a friend of the Five Leaves gang. With Masa separated from Five Leaves’ leader Yaichi for most of the volume, the story takes on a dreamy, disjointed feel, emphasizing how important Masa’s admiration of Yaichi has become to his sense of purpose–perhaps even his sense of self. At Goinkyo’s, Masa is encouraged to discontinue his association with the Five Leaves, but thanks to Yaichi’s influence, it’s clear by the end of the volume that Masa’s not going anywhere.

This series continues to be very much in tune with my personal sensibilities, which is obviously a major selling point for me. Masa’s layers of quiet turmoil, the story’s moral ambiguity, and Ono’s distinctive, melancholy artwork are all perfectly constructed for my enjoyment. Though this volume has a distinctly plodding feel, this has the effect of placing the reader in Masa’s convalescent headspace–part boredom, part relief, and tinged with some undetermined amount of separation anxiety. The volume’s a bit sleepy but never dull, and the last few pages are genuinely riveting.

I suspect a series that relies so heavily on prolonged character study may not be to everyone’s taste, but it’s certainly a great fit for mine. And I’m expecting the emotional payoff to be pretty big as Masa submerges himself further into the world of the Five Leaves.

MICHELLE: I’ve really been looking forward to reading this second volume after I, too, loved the first very much. With his personality, Masa could so easily be irritating if handled poorly, but Ono renders him with incredible sympathy. He is ill-equipped to resist Yaichi and his charms and is actually kind of adorable in how he gets swept up in it all.

MELINDA: I absolutely adore Masa, and I agree that might well not be the case were he in another author’s hands. As it is, though, he’s a character I always want to know more about. I think I actually find him more interesting than any of the mysterious criminals around him. He’s really a unique protagonist.

MICHELLE: Definitely. You know, your picks this week remind me how much thoroughly awesome manga and manhwa we have in English these days. Granted, I could easily rattle off a dozen series I’d love to see licensed, but we’ve got it good.

MELINDA: You’re absolutely right. It’s a great time to be a fan, no matter how you look at it.

MICHELLE: Which reminds me, Deb Aoki at About.com put together this thoroughly awesome gallery of the new series debuting here in 2011. I bookmarked it, and thought maybe others might find it useful as well.

MELINDA: Great call, Michelle! Way to start the New Year off right!

MICHELLE: I guess this just goes to show that I can never simply appreciate what we’ve got, but must always pine for more, but I’m looking forward to quite a lot on that list and that’s a fun place to be as a fan.

MELINDA: I’ll drink to that.

Happy New Year from Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: First reads, second chances

December 29, 2010 by Michelle Smith and Melinda Beasi 2 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

We’ve got another Tokyopop debut series to look at this week, and a mix of debuts and continuing series from Yen Press and Viz Media as well.

MELINDA: I like fruitcake.

MICHELLE: You have my deepest condolences.

MELINDA: Hater.

MICHELLE: I tend to generally not like bread-like items with things in them. That said, I was a kid the last time I tried it so would give it another chance.

Can you say the same about the manga you read this week?

MELINDA: Hmmmm, well, not quite. Or, I should say, “not necessary.” But I’m guessing you can?

MICHELLE: More like a “probably not” and a “this one was on its third chance already” kind of thing. :) But first, the former!

I really wanted to like AiON, TOKYOPOP’s new series by Yuna Kagesaki, the creator of Chibi Vampire. The cover is pretty attractive, after all (if you can get past the moe factor), and shows off the publisher’s snazzy new trim dress. Plus, the back cover blurb starts with six tantalizing words I never expected to see strung together in this order: “Mermaids and mind-controlling parasites wage war…”

Unfortunately, despite the cracktastic potential suggested by that phrase, the story as presented in the first volume is exceedingly dull. Wealthy Tatsuya Tsugawa has lost both his parents the week before, and yet seems largely unaffected by this aside from trying to live up to his dying father’s wish that he become a great man. This compels him to intervene when he notices a classmate, Miyazaki, being bullied. She tells him several times that she wants the bullying to continue, but he can’t leave her alone and eventually learns that she was purposely antagonizing the bully the better to extract a parasite that was infecting her.

Perhaps the story doesn’t seem so boring in summary form, but it really, really is. I lay most of the blame at the feet of Tsugawa, who is just so utterly generic that the only thing remarkable about him is the extent of his blandness. At the halfway point, when he questions why Miyazaki’s opinion matters to him and wonders if this means that he likes her, I quite literally set the book aside and had a brief nap. That’s how believable and meaningful the scene was.

Tsugawa and Miyazaki interact a few more times, with the inevitable result that she winds up moving in with him. Love and parasites will surely ensue, but man, I can’t imagine sitting through a second volume.

MELINDA: I’ll admit the story doesn’t sound *so* boring in summary form, but your nap anecdote is difficult to ignore. Also, where are the mermaids?

MICHELLE: An excellent question! I don’t recall a single mention of them. More vividly, I recall the half dozen grammar errors that plague the text. All in all, it’s not a very auspicious debut.

Did you fare better with your picks this week?

MELINDA: I did, particularly with my first selection, which I found quite charming. This week, I finally got around to picking up Julietta Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss, a supernatural romantic comedy from Viz’s Shojo Beat imprint.

Like AION, this series begins with its protagonist, Nanami, being essentially orphaned, though in this case our teenaged heroine’s father has not actually died but skipped town to avoid his gambling debts, leaving his daughter to face the collectors all alone. Once she’s been evicted from her apartment, Nanami ends up in the park where she meets a strange man who offers her his home if she’ll take over his job. Before she knows what’s happening, he’s sent her on her way, but when Nanami reaches the home that’s been promised her, it turns out to be a shrine–of which she’s just been made god!

An argument could be made that this premise sounds much less interesting than AION‘s as you’ve described it, but fortunately this one is well-executed and genuinely fun.

Nanami’s cut from pretty standard shoujo cloth–a spunky young woman with no obvious talent aside from her determined optimism, but she’s got a great foil in the form of Tomoe, a fox (the supernatural kind, though the other kind too) who served the shrine’s former kami and who is beyond dismayed to find himself bound to someone like Nanami. Tomoe is catty and cynical but excellent at his job, and watching him work and argue with Nanami is the source of most of this volume’s charm.

What I especially appreciate about this series, is that regardless of Tomoe’s tremendous superiority complex, he’s far too lazy to be controlling like so many shoujo love interests, and even his surliness is kept staunchly at bay thanks to Nanami’s power of kotodama, which forces him to do her bidding whether he wants to or not. In a way, Kamisama Kiss is everything that Black Bird could have been if not for its heavy misogynist overtones. Like Misao, Nanami’s surrounded by yokai who would just as soon eat her if they had the chance, but unlike Misao, Nanami has agency, and that makes all the difference in the world.

MICHELLE: It’s interesting that you mention Black Bird, because I did the same in my recent review of Kamisama Kiss, though mine was more in the context of being worried about some of Tomoe’s comments as contrasted by his kindliness. You’re right about the kotodama giving Nanami an advantage, though—actually, this combined with Tomoe’s white ears puts me in mind of Kagome’s ability to compel InuYasha‘s titular hero to “Sit!”—so perhaps I oughtn’t be so concerned.

MELINDA: It’s interesting to me that you had that concern, because this series didn’t ping me that way at all, and not just because of Nanami’s kotodama. Tomoe may be surly and condescending, but he’s expressed zero sexual interest in Nanami so far, and he thankfully lacks Kyo’s predatory lust and possessiveness, which is what makes Kyo so controlling and repulsive. Tomoe’s neither as clingy nor as abusive as Kyo, and though it seems clear that Tomoe and Nanami are being set up for romance, I feel like they’re starting on even ground, thanks to their individual strengths and weaknesses.

MICHELLE: Yeah, you’re right. And it wasn’t so much that I thought there relationship was like the one in Black Bird, but more that it made me think of Black Bird, which is usually not a good sign! :)

MELINDA: Yeah, I can relate to that. :D

So what else have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: You’ll be pleased to hear that the series to which I gave a third chance is Nabari No Ou! It’s very rare that you and I should disagree about a series, but it happened with this tale of a reluctant ninja. I found the first two volumes to be mighty boring, but I’m happy to report that things pick up a lot in volume three and stay pretty interesting through volume five!

The basic gist of the plot is that a middle schooler named Miharu Rokujou is inhabited by an immense power known as the “Shinra Banshou,” and two factions of ninja clans are fighting over him. Both are after a set of five scrolls containing the “secret arts” of the various ninja clans, though one group thinks they can use these scrolls to dispel Shinra Banshou while the other seeks to activate it. In volume three, Miharu and his protectors (they of the “dispel” camp) accept a job to assassinate a scientist in exchange for one such scroll, which leads Miharu’s protector Kumohira-sensei to question his convictions and ultimately, to a chilling culmination of the assignment. Volumes four and five deal primarily with the backstory for one of the characters’ brothers, and manage to sustain much of the momentum gained in volume three.

Don’t get me wrong, I still yawn when reading about the squabbling clans or the all-powerful scrolls, but the characters and their relationships are what have piqued my interest at last. Largely this is facilitated by the head of a rival clan—the one who hired them for the assassination job—who possesses the ability to read minds and threatens to reveal everyone’s “grave secrets.” This gets everyone suspicious of one another, with some pretty dramatic results. I’m most interested in the dynamic between Miharu and Kumohira, because the latter seeks to obtain the former’s trust while revealing as little as possible about what he remembers of some cataclysmic past event, but I also quite like scenes between Miharu and Yoite, another young man who should be Miharu’s enemy but for whom he seems willing to do just about anything. I’m sure there is loads of fanfic written about these two.

Anyway, I am finally on board the Nabari train.

MELINDA: I am very pleased to hear this! I feel like this series has been the skeleton in the closet of our friendship! Or something like that.

I agree that it’s the relationships that really make this series come alive, though I liked them earlier on than you did. Or maybe I just liked Miharu so much, I felt more patient about the rest. He’s the kind of enigma I enjoy most. I haven’t fully dug in to volume five yet, but now I’m really looking forward to it.

I feel like I should have many smart questions to ask you, now that you’ve read further into the series, but I find I mainly just agree, particularly on your feelings about where the most interesting relationship drama currently resides.

MICHELLE: I found Miharu petulant at first, but once the mind-reader arrived and saw that his indifference is just a front, I found him more appealing. I must say, it is somewhat of a relief for us to be on the same page at last! :)

What else have you been reading this week?

MELINDA: I’m a bit tardy on this one, but I’ve just finished the second volume of Shunjo Aono’s I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow from Viz’s SigIKKI line.

I enjoyed the first volume of this series, but my greatest concern at the time was that the series might quickly become unreadable if something didn’t change for its painfully lost protagonist. Fortunately, that pitfall has not yet come to pass, though not for the reasons one might imagine.

The second volume finds Shizuo still plugging along in his half-hearted, humiliating way, creating bad manga that may never be accepted for publication, imagining romantic interest from a woman who is merely kind to him, and imposing on the few people who inexplicably care for him, including his daughter and his younger friend, Shuichi. A bit of backstory helps to put his stunted personality in perspective, but it’s truly agonizing to watch him fumble through life, especially should one catch a glimpse of oneself in Shizuo’s plight, which, believe you me, is uncomfortably easy for many of us to do.

What really saves this volume, however, is that it miraculously develops a hero, and that hero is, surprisingly, Shuichi. Here’s a quiet, pretty much expressionless guy, who manages somehow in the least likely arena to display the kind of compassion and fearlessness one might expect from a shounen battle hero. I won’t spoil you by telling you what happens, but I will say that I actually cheered audibly at one point in this volume. Being a melancholy seinen comedy, Shuichi’s heroism doesn’t get him much but a messed up face and the loss of his job, but it’s still a damn good read.

Of course, Shuichi isn’t actually the hero of this manga, and even now I find myself wondering how long the story’s premise can last without becoming too depressing to bear. But Aono’s won my confidence enough to compel me towards volume three, and that’s no small feat.

MICHELLE: I haven’t even been able to work up the desire to give this series a first chance, much less a second or third. It just sounds so… horribly frustrating and bound to leave the reader depressed. Maybe it’s shallow of me, but I’d much rather read something utterly frivolous.

MELINDA: It’s not necessarily an easy read, that’s for sure, though it is genuinely a comedy. It’s not self-consciously dark.

MICHELLE: Yeah, but I have a history of finding unfunny series that others find very amusing, like Detroit Metal City. I think I’ll continue to stay away from this one.

MELINDA: Probably a good call. Though I hope you’ll give fruitcake another try someday. ;)

MICHELLE: It might take some time to muster up the nerve.

MELINDA: So it’s often been said.

MICHELLE: Many times, many ways?

MELINDA: “Merry fruitcake… to yoooooou.”

MICHELLE: *pachi pachi*

Many thanks to Michelle for indulging me in 22 installments of this feature since we first began back in August! Join us again in the new year for an all new Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Four for the girls

December 15, 2010 by Michelle Smith and Melinda Beasi 9 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, we take a look at an upcoming debut from Tokyopop, as well as some continuing series from Yen Press and Viz Media.

MICHELLE: Once upon a time I worked for a circus and I lived in Omaha.

MELINDA: I’ve been to Omaha, if that counts for anything.

MICHELLE: That’s actually a lyric from the stage play version of The Wizard of Oz, which I was in in the sixth grade. For some reason, it gets stuck in my head all the time.

MELINDA: It serves as an interesting conversation-starter!

MICHELLE: I should try it at a party sometime. Anyway, I expect you’ve been doing some reading!

MELINDA: Indeed I have! I’ve had a pretty shoujo-tastic week, I have to say. Pretty snark-tastic, too, if I think about it, since both of the books I plan to discuss tonight feature wry humor in place of the usual wide-eyed shoujo optimism.

First on the docket, I’ve got the debut volume of The Secret Notes of Lady Kanoko by mangaka Ririko Tsujita, due out in a couple of weeks from TOKYOPOP. The series’ title refers to Kanoko, a third year junior high school student who prides herself on perfect objectivity. To maintain this emotional purity, she spurns any kind of social interaction with her classmates, preferring to simply observe (and, of course, take copious notes). When her interest is piqued by a classroom love triangle, Kanoko is shocked to find herself somehow drawn into the fray by each of the parties involved, and even more so to find herself accidentally befriending them.

My experience with this manga was a bit of a roller-coaster ride. I was immediately drawn in by Kanoko and the gloriously idiosyncratic friendships she develops against her will. Then, amidst a deep sigh of contentment, I was jerked right out of my shoujo-induced bliss by the volume’s second chapter, which begins with Kanoko having transferred to a new school, leaving everything I’d just learned to care about abruptly behind. My dissatisfaction continued through at least two more chapters before I finally realized that this is actually the premise of the series. That’s also when I realized that it’s brilliant.

Using Kanoko’s impossibly frequent school transfers as a structural conceit, Tsujita sets herself free from the bothersome constraints of reality, while also weaving in some of the most wonderfully real characterization I’ve seen in a manga comedy. It’s as though some sleep-deprived manga editor spliced together pages of Kimi ni Todoke with Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei, absent-mindedly inventing a new and delicious flavor of shoujo satire that manages to consistently maintain the gag while telling an unexpectedly heartwarming story at the same time. And in a fantasy space like this, of course, Kanoko’s original, accidental friends are able to pop up as needed, to help our heroine learn and grow, even as she snarks her way through another anonymous middle school.

The real secret to the story’s success, however, is Kanoko herself. She’s smart, hilarious, and even kind of heroic, like a super-hero version of Harriet the Spy. She wards off bullies by genuinely not caring what they think of her, and blows off “friendly” saboteurs with little more than a sneer. I seriously wanted to applaud several times during the first chapter alone. She’s also deeply damaged and a complete mess, but even that’s not overplayed. It’s astonishingly well done.

MICHELLE: That truly sounds awesome. I, too, was unaware of the series’ structure, but had managed to pick up somewhere or other that Kanoko is a unique heroine, which is why I’ve been looking forward to this volume’s release. I note from the exterior of the book that TOKYOPOP has a new logo and it looks quite snazzy. Were any differences apparent on the inside of the book?

MELINDA: I didn’t notice anything new inside, other than this very pleasant sight on the book’s page of credits, “Editor – Asako Suzuki.” :)

You know, the thought I had as I was writing this, Michelle, was that this ability to mix satire with an actual, forward-moving story is what I’ve fruitlessly hoped for from Otomen all this time.

MICHELLE: Oh, that is a welcome sight indeed! And yeah, I’m beginning to see more disappointment with Otomen‘s lack of forward movement popping up online. I usually buy new volumes as they come out, but after the disappointment I mentioned when I discussed volumes six and seven here back in September, I just couldn’t bring myself to buy volume eight.

MELINDA: So now that I’ve blathered on, what have you got for us tonight?

MICHELLE: Back in the waning days of Manga Recon there was this review copy for Angel Diary volume ten that no one had claimed, so I ended up reviewing it. And, actually, it was pretty interesting. It was primarily a fight between siblings, and though it didn’t make me want to read the series from the beginning, it at least made me want to see what happened next. Well, I’ve now read volumes eleven through thirteen (the final volume) and, unfortunately, what happens next is really not too much.

Briefly, the premise of the story is that Dong-Young, the Princess of Heaven, has fled an arranged marriage with the King of Hell and come to Earth disguised as a boy. Of course, one of her classmates is Bi-Wal, the King of Hell, and they end up falling in love. In volume eleven, there’s some brief resolution to the battle between Bi-Wal and his brother, Ryung, and then Dong-Young decides to get serious about becoming the Queen of Heaven which means going home and devoting herself to studying.

At first I thought, “Oh, this is the Boys Over Flowers school of story conclusions, with one member of a couple going away for an extended period of time.” With two volumes left at this point, I expected there would be several chapters, at least, of Dong-Young hard at work and maybe even the pair waiting quite a while to finally get married. Alas, much of this period is skimmed over and the series ends shortly into volume twelve. The rest of this volume and the whole of the thirteenth are bonus chapters about supporting characters, frequently as big-eyed bratty kids.

I didn’t like or follow this series enough to feel disappointed by this ending, but it certainly lacks substance. I’m glad I wasn’t more invested otherwise I might have been annoyed. I will say, though, that I associate this series with Moon Boy a lot, since they both began with Ice Kunion around the same time and are now wrapping up in the same month, and between the two series, this one is superior. Everything makes sense and Kara’s art is frequently nice to look upon. In fact, I must confess that I felt some squee for Bi-Wal’s chief aide, Hee-Young, mostly because he has really cool hair.

MELINDA: Is “superior to Moon Boy” really much of a recommendation? :D

MICHELLE: I guess not. If one were in the mood for some utter fluff with pretty boys in it, though, Angel Diary would probably be a decent choice.

MELINDA: I’m a fan of Kara’s artwork in another Yen Press series, Legend, so though I may snark, I can well imagine the appeal of her very pretty men and their undeniably cool hair.

MICHELLE: I actually scored the first few volumes of Legend recently, and look forward to checking it out.

So, what’s your other wry shoujo read for this week?

MELINDA: My second shoujo-snark-tastic selection for the evening is the third volume of Kaneyoshi Izumi’s Seiho Boys’ High School, from Viz’s Shojo Beat imprint. Now, you’ll recall that the series’ second volume is what originally won me over, but I’d say that it’s the third that earned it a place in my recent holiday gift guide. And though, in part, this is because it simply maintained the second volume’s quality, it also has some particular merit of its own.

The volume starts a bit slowly, with townie Miyaji coerced into dressing up as a boy-dressing-up-as-a-girl to help Dorm 1 spice up their entry for the school’s play competition. Things move up quickly from there, however, with the introduction of a new love interest for our hero, Maki, and an unexpected development in Nogami’s flirtation with the school nurse.

As in the series’ previous volumes, what really makes this manga shine is Izumi’s honest treatment of her teenaged male characters, even within the context of a fairly light comedy. Though perhaps the more impressive achievement is her demonstrated ability to make a bunch of (mostly) heterosexual horndogs actually appealing to female readers. That Nogami, for instance, the most hideously crass of the bunch, is even remotely sympathetic as a character is an accomplishment indeed. She’s not above poking fun at her readership either, as she proves in the volume’s final chapter with the revelation that Maki’s new love interest is a dedicated fujoshi.

And though Maki is definitely the most average guy of the bunch, he’s also the one who consistently tugs at my heartstrings, whether he’s struggling with overcoming his continued attachment to his lost girlfriend or discovering that there’s more to a popular classmate than he’d previously thought. He’s a fragile sort of everyman, but it really works for this series.

MICHELLE: I’ve seen the girl-dressed-as-boy-dressed-as-girl plot before, as well as the school nurse (there’s one in the second book I plan to discuss tonight, actually) but it sounds like Izumi is able to make some tried-and-true shoujo ideas feel original.

MELINDA: Yes, she really does, and it’s by doing little more than playing them honestly. Though her terrific sense of humor certainly doesn’t hurt.

So, school nurses, eh? Bring ’em on!

MICHELLE: If your theme this week has been wry shoujo, then mine is “final volumes of light shoujo (or sunjeong).” I wasn’t too impressed with the first two volumes of Cactus’s Secret, in which prickly Miku expects the easygoing object of her affections, Fujioka, to pick up on her feelings despite the fact that she gets angry and yells at him all the time. The series has gradually improved, though, and the scene in the third volume where Fujioka finally admits/realizes that he likes Miku too is truly sweet. Shortly into the fourth and final volume, alas, a buxom new school nurse is introduced and I began to fear that a lame plot centering on Miku’s jealousy would soon unfold. And, in fact, that’s sort of what happens, but in a much better way than I’d anticipated.

Rather than be outraged because Fujioka is spending time with a physically beautiful lady, Miku is actually made insecure by the fact that Fujioka, whom she has pressured into considering his future, has apparently been able to discuss something with the nurse that he couldn’t share with her. It’s a classic case of opposites getting together and realizing, “Hey, we really are majorly different here!” Miku is very focused on her future, so the fact that Fujioka isn’t bothers her. Because she does care so much, he feels unable to reveal to her how clueless he is, lest he lose estimation in her eyes.

Finding the nurse a good confidante herself, Miku eventually realizes what Fujioka’s been feeling and the two end up working things out. Just like Angel Diary, this series ends pretty abruptly and is followed by a couple of bonus stories featuring supporting characters. Even so, I found the conflict in this volume to be engaging and honest, evolving organically from who these characters are. Cactus’s Secret doesn’t rank as one of my favorite shoujo series ever, but it just might deserve a Most Improved award based on the difference between its first and last volumes!

MELINDA: I wasn’t impressed by the first volume of this series, which kept me from continuing on, and now I’m torn by a desire to watch it improve and a desire to avoid being disappointed by an abrupt ending!

MICHELLE: I think it’s worth it, personally. The creator is also really young, so it’ll be interesting to see her develop, assuming her future endeavors are licensed here.

MELINDA: You make a compelling argument! I do tend to get attached to flawed works that show promise for their creators.

MICHELLE: Like Heaven’s Will?

MELINDA: That’s exactly the manga that sprang to mind! You know me too well, my friend.

MICHELLE: As my husband always says, “That’s my gig!”

MELINDA: So true.

Tune in next week for December’s BL Bookrack, and then again on December 29th for this year’s final Off the Shelf!

Off the Shelf: Dream sweet dreams for you

December 8, 2010 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 16 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, as always, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, Michelle wraps up her look at the end of Del Rey Manga, while I dig into some new volumes from Viz Media and Vertical, Inc.

MELINDA: Brrrrrrr. That’s all I really have to say tonight. Brrrrrr.

MICHELLE: People are saying “Brrrrrr” even down here! I am also adding my chorus of personal grumbles because I hate wearing bulky clothes, but that is really not relevant to this column, is it?

MELINDA: I guess not. Though for the record, I *love* wearing bulky clothes. :D

MICHELLE: I have this one coat that is so pooftacular that no strap will stay on one’s shoulder. It’s supremely frustrating!

Anyway, on with the program! This is my third and final week of Del Rey appreciation/mourning, and this week I am turning my attention to a couple of recent shounen releases. The first is the twelfth volume of Fairy Tail, a fantasy adventure series about which I have some pretty mixed feelings.

The main characters of Fairy Tail are members of a wizard guild by the same name, and undertake various jobs for monetary reward. Over the course of the series several wizards have formed a team, including Natsu, an insanely powerful “dragon slayer” with fire-based magic; Gray, a wizard with ice powers; Lucy, who wears insanely skimpy outfits and can call celestial beings to do her bidding; and Erza, an extremely powerful wizard with the ability to equip herself with all manner of armor and swords. Erza has always been somewhat of a mystery, and a story arc began in volume ten to tell the story of her childhood, culminating in a final battle here in volume twelve.

I wish I could say that I like the result, but I am unable to resist comparing it to the Water Seven arc in One Piece which I’ve been reading recently. Both stories feature a crew of sorts with one powerful, more mature female character that generally keeps to herself. She is in trouble, and though she attempts to undertake an act of self-sacrifice to protect her friends, they refuse to allow her to do so. Aside from these similarities, the differences between the two are profound. Characterization runs a hell of a lot deeper in One Piece, for one thing, and the world-building is much more imaginative. Emotional scenes in One Piece feel earned and can leave one a pile of sniveling goo. There is no chance of that happening in Fairy Tail.

Part of the problem, I think, is that mangaka Hiro Mashima admits that he’s making things up as he goes along, whereas Eiichiro Oda is notorious for having planned large quantities of One Piece well in advance. The result is a story that feels slapdash—this particular volume includes a clumsy retcon to explain why Erza did not recognize that a person in her present looks exactly like someone from her past. Also, even though Oda’s work is full of buxom ladies, they generally wear a lot more clothes than the females in Fairy Tail, and when they get into fights their opponents do not immediately target their bodices with the aim of getting a look at their boobs.

I know, I know, I’m supposed to be celebrating Del Rey here, but I can’t help but be rather disappointing in the execution of a story that could have been so much more.

MELINDA: Making things up as he goes along??? This is perhaps unfair of me, but I really have difficulty respecting that kind of process. How can you build anything meaningful into the story if you aren’t actually, you know, telling a story? I’m sure some people can pull it off, and sometimes things like that can start out okay, but in the end… they just turn into Twin Peaks.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I much prefer series where it’s evident that the mangaka has a clear goal in sight. In Mashima’s defense, he also says that he didn’t expect the series to go on for so long, so perhaps its longevity has outlasted his original ideas. I’ll still keep reading it, but it’s definitely something I check out from the library rather than purchase.

What’ve you got for us this week?

MELINDA: I read a whole stack of manga in a hurry this weekend, in order to prepare myself for my gift guide, including a couple of series that are simply too much a matter of taste for me to recommend them as gifts, despite the fact that I enjoyed them both quite a lot. Coincidentally, they are both also from non-Japanese artists, though they are both published in Japan.

The first of these is March Story, written by Korean manhwa-ga Hyung Min Kim and Kyung Il Yang. It’s a supernatural horror manga about a character named March who is among the Ciste Vihad–supernaturally gifted warriors who hunt and exorcise nasty demons known as “Ill.” The Ill hide themselves in beautiful objects with the purpose of tempting humans into allowing themselves to be possessed. Once invited into a human consciousness, the Ill turn their hosts into murderous beasts.

Though beautifully drawn from the very start, the series begins in a fairly clichéd and tedious fashion. March travels around, observing the foolish vanity of humans, occasionally warning them against the evils of the Ill, and ultimately being forced to save them from their own greedy mistakes. Even the gorgeous artwork is not enough to shine up this tired trope.

Fortunately it doesn’t have to, because just as you’re about to give up on the dull melodrama of it all, the creators start to really dig into the their protagonist’s origin story, which is definitely more interesting than most.

As I mentioned, the artwork is quite stunning, in a sort of creepy Lewis Carroll/Arthur Rackham-ish kind of way, which at first feels fairly shallow alongside such empty content. By the end, however, it all comes together beautifully, and to great effect. It was enough, honestly, that by the time I finished the volume, I’d forgotten that I ever thought it was lame at all, and in the span of about thirty minutes, that’s no small feat. As it is, I can’t wait to get ahold of the next volume to see where the series goes. I suspect things are going to get even creepier, to which I certainly have no objection.

MICHELLE: I meant to tell you I enjoyed your gift guide!

I’m glad to hear that you enjoyed March Story, because most of what I’ve read about it so far hasn’t been very enthusiastic. I’d be interested to learn more about the publishing history of this title, and why it ended up being published in Japan and not Korea. I don’t suppose there are any notes to that effect included in VIZ’s packaging.

MELINDA: Thanks!

I’m fairly certain that both the writer and the artist live in Japan and have for some time. The artist, at least, also works on a manga called Defense Devil, which is currently running in Weekly Shonen Sunday. I suspect this manga was conceived entirely between its creators and their editor in Japan, so I doubt there was ever any possibility of it being put out by a Korean publisher. Probably, their stories aren’t that much different than that of the second artist I’ll be discussing tonight, or really any artist who has journeyed to Japan with hopes of breaking into the industry there.

MICHELLE: That all sounds plausible.

MELINDA: I’m happy to have enjoyed March Story, too. It was David Welsh’s review that inspired me to really give it a chance, and I’m glad that I did. I’m looking forward to more.

So what’s next for you on this chilly evening?

MICHELLE: My second pick is the second volume of of Akimine Kamijyo’s C0de:Breaker. In the first volume—which has one of the most awesome opening scenes I’ve seen in a long time, I must note—we are introduced to Ogami, wielder of deadly flame and member of an organization “that punishes the evil the law fails to punish,” and Sakura, a strong-minded girl who is determined not to let Ogami go around killing people.

Volume two builds upon this dynamic, with Sakura testing out her idealistic approach on one of Ogami’s would-be victims, with dissatisfying results. Still, she’s convinced by random acts of kindness that Ogami still possesses a human heart, and pledges not to give up on getting through to him. The addition of Toki, another Code:Breaker with the ability to push Ogami’s buttons in a major way, interferes in some respect, but also brings to light some tantalizing hints about Ogami’s past, including the possibility that he committed patricide.

There are a few things about C0de:Breaker that I’m not too keen on. In order to keep Ogami sympathetic, for example, all of the villains are incredibly over the top, like the corrupt politician who harvests organs from unwilling donors and sells them to wealthy clients. Suddenly, too, Sakura is repeatedly the victim of boob groping. Is a real shame to see her objectified in this way because she’s otherwise such a strong heroine.

On the positive side, the story is really interesting and I’ll be truly saddened if Kodansha doesn’t continue the series. I am also loving the injection of cute provided by Puppy, the offspring of the dog whose violent demise you warned me of in volume one. I’m really glad to see that the horrific incident wasn’t simply forgotten and that taking care of Puppy is important to both Ogami and Sakura in the wake of what happened to his mother.

MELINDA: Aaaaah, the story’s shounen roots finally begin to show. The boob groping is especially unfortunate. I’m glad to hear that Puppy is so charming, though. I haven’t read this volume, but I really enjoyed the first, as you know, so I’m glad that there’s still enough of what made that volume compelling to balance some of the less desirable elements.

MICHELLE: Oh, definitely. The first volume is tighter and better-paced, but it seems that—unlike Hiro Mashima—Kamijyo knows where he wants his story to go, so there’s definitely a good bit of forward momentum here.

MELINDA: That’s always a plus.

MICHELLE: Forsooth! So, who’s this other foreigner making good in Japan? I bet I can hazard a guess!

MELINDA: My second book from a non-Japanese creator this week is the third (and, unfortunately, final) volume of Peepo Choo, from American manga artist Felipe Smith. Again, this is a series that is not quite appropriate for inclusion in a gift guide, but it’s one that I’ve grown to like more and more with each new volume.

There are two main storylines going on in Peepo Choo. First is the story of Milton, a young otaku from Chicago who adores a rather surreal anime series called, “Peepo Choo,” and who dreams of visiting Japan, where everyone shares his passion for the series and its message of happiness and goodwill. Second, is that of Morimoto, a Yakuza upstart who idolizes the members of a fictional Chicago street gang whose exploits he’s followed by way of imported films.

Milton wins a trip to Japan, and it isn’t long before he discovers the heart-wrenching truth. Not only are otaku nearly as much of a minority in Japan as they are over here, but almost no one has ever heard of Peepo Choo, which was a major flop in its home country (and a super-cheap license for the American publisher who imported it over).

Milton’s heartbreak is substantial, but he does make some real friends on his overseas journey, most notably a Japanese gravure model who is in as much need of an identity breakthrough as poor Milton. Meanwhile, Morimoto crosses paths with Milton’s traveling companion, Jody, whom he mistakes for a fellow “gangsta,” and eagerly welcomes him into his circle.

Though the first volume didn’t quite hold together, the second was strong enough to compel me to jump right on this one pretty much the moment it arrived in my mailbox. And by the end volume, I was honestly heartbroken that the series had been canceled. Smith is able to wrap up a couple of his major plot arcs (more or less), but there’s so much left unexplored, and these characters really deserve the life Smith gave them. They deserve the chance to live those lives out, fully, on the page for us to see. It’s really a shame.

Everything in Peepo Choo is painfully vivid. Violence, sex, humiliation, joy, sorrow, misunderstanding, and even its humor are so sharp and pointed, it can be difficult to handle at times. That a silent, colorless medium could be capable of creating such extreme sensory overload is something I never would have expected when I first started reading manga. But this extreme sensibility is what really drives Peepo Choo and cements it into the senses of the reader. It’s not pretty by any means, and not even always coherent, at least in its early chapters, but it’s something that compels attention–an attention that, by the end of its third volume, it has definitely more than earned.

This is an incredibly crude and violent manga, so it’s definitely not for everyone (probably including you), but it’s got a lot to say to American manga fans, and I’d recommend it to anyone who can stomach its more vulgar elements.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I admit that I tried to read the first volume and only got a couple of pages in before I realized it was really not my cup of tea. Maybe it’s my British genes acting up, but when something is this raw and unabashed, I just can’t take it. I realize this limits me as a reader, but I can’t shake it.

MELINDA: I think there are some elements of the third volume, in particular, that you would really like a lot, but it’s hard for me to imagine you actually getting that far. :) There’s some imagery in the first volume–gross-out stuff for the most part–that was tough for me to stomach, and I think I’ve got a higher tolerance than you do to begin with.

MICHELLE: Maybe it needs a Reader’s Digest Condensed Version for Prudes or something!

MELINDA: I’m trying to imagine the editors at Reader’s Digest even *reading* Peepo Choo and it’s pretty entertaining, let me tell you.

MICHELLE: Oh, dear. I’m sure many palpitations would ensue.

In Memoriam

Off the Shelf: Sentimental Journey

December 1, 2010 by Melinda Beasi and Michelle Smith 11 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, once again, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, Michelle continues her look at some final releases from Del Rey Manga, while I check out some new manga from Yen Press and Tokyopop.

MICHELLE: So, Melinda. Read anything interesting on the internet today? :)

MELINDA: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Okay. *whew* Gotta recover here.

MICHELLE: Maybe we can recover by discussing some manga. By the way, you’re looking radiant tonight.

MELINDA: Why, thank you! You’re exceptionally brilliant, and possibly a little sparkly.

MICHELLE: Why, thank you for noticing. (I’m part vampire, you know.)

MELINDA: I suspected as much! Well, now that we both feel properly affirmed, I suppose we could talk about some manga.

MICHELLE: It is what we’re here for, after all!

MELINDA: Yes, yes, it is. So, usually I would save my favorite selection for last, but I admit that tonight I’m so anxious to talk about one of the manga I just read, that I’m going to just give in and go for it. I don’t know if you’ve read it yet, but I suspect you’re looking forward to it. Promise not to shriek when I tell you what it is?

MICHELLE: I will try to contain myself.

MELINDA: Good luck! As you may have guessed by this point, it’s Fumi Yoshinaga’s Not Love But Delicious Foods (Make Me So Happy), due out in December from Yen Press. As a fan of Yoshinaga’s previously-translated works, I’ve been eagerly anticipating this release for some time, though I knew very little about it, specifically, before I pulled open the cover. What I discovered inside was even more charming than I’d imagined.

The book is essentially a tour of several of the author’s favorite Tokyo restaurants, highlighting each establishment’s specialties, and including details ranging all the way from atmosphere to parking recommendations. What makes it especially rewarding for Yoshinaga fans, however, is that Yoshinaga herself stars as the main character, surrounded by her circle of friends. How much of this is fictionalized, of course we can’t know, but it feels so authentic, the overwhelming sense for readers is that we’re getting a peek into Yoshinaga’s private world, with a delightful view of her real-life quirks, hopes, desires, and of course, her obsessive love of food.

Yoshinaga portrays herself as an aging, neurotic slacker who eats like a horse, routinely spills food on her clothing, and has a thing for cute, chubby men, all of which makes her even more appealing to an older female reader like me. She strikes exactly the right balance between self-deprecation and self-love, warding off any danger of approaching either desperation or narcissism. She’s neurotic, sure, but also keenly self-aware, and her affection for her friends (be they real or fictional) is palpable.

There isn’t a real story to this manga, just a series of episodes moving from restaurant to restaurant, but what makes each chapter come together is a strong feeling of intimacy with the characters and the author’s characteristic banter. Humorous dialogue is Yoshinaga’s specialty, and she uses it to great advantage in this book, stringing together descriptions of complicated dishes in the most natural way possible. …