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Convention report: TCAF 2012

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Guys, I really like TCAF. Which might sound strange, as this is the latest con report in the history of time, but there it is.

The Toronto Comic Arts Festival is a week long comics festival held all over Toronto’s downtown. It culminates in a weekend mini-convention hosted by the (not so) secretly awesome Toronto Public Library. Christopher Butcher, TCAF’s founder and director, didn’t want it to be your typical comic con, so he modelled it on literary festivals and conferences. There are none of the giant screens, booth babes, or pricey giveaways that you’ll find at most major North American comic cons, and you won’t hear much about the latest Marvel and DC releases. Instead, you’ll hear from Scholastic, First Second, Oni Press and Archaia, and mainly, comics creators themselves. You’ll get the chance to meet lots of up and coming and independent creators, from all over the world. You’ll get to participate in workshops, play indie games, indulge in kidstuff and check out great panel discussions, and you’ll do all of this mostly for free—only a few of TCAF’s events are ticketed.

I mention all of this not to boost the festival (it’s not without its flaws), but because TCAF is designed to cultivate a certain kind of festival experience for creators and fans, and overall, it’s a pretty good one. The festival is hosted by the downtown Reference Library and surrounding businesses, all of which maintain regular operating hours during the two-day explosion of comics love. While you’re collapsing into a lump of fannish bliss at Kate Beaton’s feet, someone’s studying for an exam, or enjoying an afternoon meal. And so, the festival is less an awesome assault on the senses, and more kicking comics book fair. Also, it’s on a smaller scale than the other two major dates on the Toronto comics scene’s calendar, Fan Expo and Anime North, and the character of the festival is just more relaxed, less overheated, and far more oriented to discussion of comic arts, than to promotion by publishers. If you’re a fan of indie, small press, or kids books, it’s a good show, is what I’m saying.

My usual con and festival buddy is my girl Maddy (of When Fangirls Attack). We’ve been attending local conventions for a couple of years now, and have it down to a special kind of socially awkward, anti-science. This time, while we were impeded by a forgotten cell phone, crowd aversion (Saturday was packed!), a general lack of proper hydration and nutrition, we managed to meet up with friends, hit most of the panels we were interested in, and with the help of a third friend and a Starbucks full of regretful witnesses, get into an hours-long argument about J.J. Abrams’ Star Trek. It’s why I missed the presentation of Allison Bechdel’s new book, and while I’m sore about it, I also can’t turn down a chance to complain about Kirk’s poor character development (Chris Pine, saved that script, ok?). Basically we had a great time, and we talked to all kinds of incredible people.

The Festival

Maddy and I are both Toronto locals, so we started our festival experience early, with a University of Toronto symposium that took advantage of TCAF, to bring in Kate Beaton (Hark A Vagrant) and Bryan Lee O’Malley (Scott Pilgrim). I can’t speak for the rest of the Bodies and Cities series, but this discussion was about art and place. Does art depend on where you are, or who you’re with? Is the internet making it harder for artists to make a living? These were questions the never entirely serious Beaton and O’Malley answered, with weird and funny anecdotes, and plenty of shade for North American Big Comics.

After the talk, we had mediteranian food and cake, and hit up BMV Books (quite possibly the best place to pick up cheap, used comics in Toronto) and The Beguiling (the festival’s mothership), where we got our festival guides, and started to plan our itineraries. We’re both panel people, so it was akin to shopping for a Christmas siege of the Reference Library, The Pilot Tavern and other TCAF venues. There may also have been an extended email chain involved. It was a whole thing.

O’Malley and Beaton both had interesting things to say about creation, ownership and the whys and wherefores of comic art, which set the tone for the weekend. The opening night talk with Jeff Smith (Bone), Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba (Daytripper) picked up on these themes—perhaps a consequence of bringing together so many indie and small press creators. Smith, Moon and Ba have a bit of a mutual admiration society going on; their rapport makes it well worth checking out the talk, which has been posted in full by the library. It also reminds you of just how small a world comics is, that creators and fans from all over the world have such close personal and creative connections. This, it turns out, was another of the themes of the festival. Butcher and the rest of the TCAF staff worked hard to bring in an impressive slate of international guests. With everything from workshops, to exhibits (Gabriella Giandelli!) to panel discussions, TCAF celebrated the hell out of the international comics scene this year, and particularly, international comic art (double emphasis on art). Toronto is one of the most multicultural cities in the world, so it seemed a pretty natural fit, to be having this discussion here.

After the opening night talk, we headed over to the opening night party at The Pilot. We missed whatever festival activity resulted in all the cool kids having Hello My Name Is tags, but were in good time for its devolution into a nerdier version of any other bar in the world. There was a lot of comics talk over beers, is what I’m saying, and although that’s increasingly common, in these halcyon post-Dark Knight, post-Avengers days, the collective knowledge of the Summers-Grey family tree was still impressive. Unlike the big cons, TCAF doesn’t attract cosplay (did you catch the Homestuck/TCAF cosplay blowup?), so the bars around the festival aren’t filled with visible displays of nerdy enthusiasm. The bar scene is not mine though, even with an above average number of Green Lantern t-shirts in attendance, so we left after a few beers, without any awkward fan-creator stories to share.

Saturday and Sunday were a haze of panels, shopping, and arguing about Star Trek. A lot of panels and talks, you guys. I attended: Comics and Mental Health, Guy Delisle Spotlight, Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba Spotlight, Kate Beaton Spotlight, Graphic Narrative, Writer’s Craft, and, hell, some other stuff that I can’t clearly remember. Maddy and I split up, so between the two of us, we covered about 70% of the festival’s programming. I’m a sucker for smart, passionate people, saying smart, passionate things, but I’m picky—TCAF’s programming though, was really quite good. Overwhelmingly, the conversation at TCAF is analytical (what are the boundaries of comic art? what does the future look like for small publishers and independent creators?) and informative (how to manage life as a self-employed creator, how to construct a page for maximum impact).

Aside from programming, there was still the festival floor to hit. Vendor and creator tables are set up on the library’s first and second floor. As with any con, space is at a premium, but because TCAF takes place in an open-for-business library, and not a convention centre, floorspace is even more precious. Attendance has been going up the last few years, but this year it was ludicrous—so well attended that Saturday was basically a wash, in terms of meaningful interaction. At one point, getting to a particular table involved five minutes of bobbing, weaving and inching forward, half a foot at a time. One of the biggest draws this year was Andrew Hussie, creator of Homestuck. His fans lined up, and lined up, and lined the hell up some more for his Q&A. There were a lot of Homestuck fans; adorable in their enthusiasm. Another big ticket was the Adventure Time creative team. A video of their panel is available here. By Sunday things tend to clear up (most locals have been and gone), and this year was no different. Finally we were able to enjoy meeting and chatting with creators, and do some shopping.

The Haul

For the last few years I’ve been doing this whole responsible adult thing, and trying to pay down my student debt at as blistering a pace as I can manage. As a result I’m perpetually cash strapped, and go into every book fair, festival and convention with the intention of not buying. Or at least, buying as little and as smartly as possible. Never has this plan survived the first engagement. When you go to a convention, you spend money. My resolve is strong… until I see Michael Cho (Back Alleys and Urban Landscapes), or Scott Chantler (Two Generals), or, or, oh god, is that Kate Beaton? OMG, I love her shoes! And then my plan to spend responsibly is revised into Operation: All The Things, Into My (not a plastic) Bag. You can probably relate.

This year I managed to avoid the admittedly adorable ephemera that sends me into fits of puzzled buyer’s remorse when I get home (five handmade felt bookmarks? really?) and double down on the things I really covet: books and prints.

Because Fabio Moon and Gabriel Ba made my TCAF weekend, I stopped by their table with the intention of buying all the things. But by the time I made it there, late in the day on Sunday, most of those things were gone. I picked up De:Tales though, a book I missed when it came out a couple of years back, and I have high hopes for. They weren’t the highlight of my festival experience just because they’re lovely guys, but also because they’re engaging speakers who used their showcase spot to put on a great talk about comic art and creative influence, and seemingly spent the weekend being laid back and intelligent all over the place.

Similarly, I went into TCAF weekend with the intention of picking up Guy Delisle‘s Jerusalem, and Alison Bechdel‘s Are You My Mother?, but their generally awesome showings at the festival made the experience of handing over my hard-earned Canadian dollars that much sweeter. Like the brothers, Delisle proved that PowerPoint can be wonderful, in the hands of an experienced comics professional. He showed in-progress art from his next project, sketches and pictures from previous projects, and bits and pieces of comics art that inspired him during his travels. Thus far, Delisle’s work has been something in the vein of thoughtful, personal (and hilarious) anti-travelogues, so seeing and hearing about that stuff made me even more excited for Jerusalem. As for Allison Bechdel, well, here’s a Wall Street Journal interview with her that demonstrates her inherent interestingness. (If you don’t think the grammar of comics is a cool subject, then I don’t know what to tell you. Also, at some point in the distant future, Scott McCloud will be rolling in his grave, because of you).

I also picked up two prints and the TCAF poster by Moon and Ba, and did a whole lot of shopping for other people. Their presents are in the mail, so hopefully I’m not spoiling things by mentioning Adrian Alphona, Chad Sell, Christina Strain and Bryan Lee O’Malley. Unicorns and drag queens—that’s all I’m prepared to say at this point. The Toronto streetscape above is part of a series by the always-friendly Michael Cho, and this lovely print is by Christina Strain and Jayd Aït-Kaci, who do the web comic Fox Sister. (Have you read Fox Sister? Get on that, for real). The print is of the eponymous fox sister, and will be framed and hung below my beloved Klimt print.

Overall I think I demonstrated admirable restraint. Which, hey, is why shopping for other people is the actual best.

The Conclusion (no hilarious anecdote?)

Even with all the people (18,000!), I managed to meet up with a few friends and acquaintances, get into two arguments about Star Trek, one argument about cyperpunk, and three debates about the future of online distribution and ownership. (I talk a lot. You might have noticed). I managed, somehow, to bump into two former classmates from the Toronto Cartoonist’s Workshop (holla!), and another two Twitter friends and their friends. And most importantly, I met the world’s most adorable Brony. Fluttershy, you guys, he was stealth cosplaying Fluttershy. My only regret is that I didn’t get a chance to check out the festival’s exceptional kids programming, or collapse into a lump of fannish bliss at Kate Beaton’s feet.

Oh well, there’s always next year.

Manga the Week of 5/30

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It’s a 5th week of the month, you know that means there’s virtually nothing. In fact, all three of these are available now… unless you order from Diamond.

Kodansha gives us the first Genshiken omnibus, collecting three volumes of this otaku-loving series. I always tended to read it for Saki, but there’s something for everyone here. Unlike Negima, this does not feature any new translation, possibly as the old version was perfectly fine. We also get Vol. 34 of Negima, which I’ve already reviewed, possibly as it’s hitting Diamond a full month late. And we have Vol. 28 of The Wallflower, which I always enjoy, mostly as I expect laughs and nothing else. This volume apparently featured the obligatory Edo Period AU!

Aaaaaand that’s it. Thoughts?

Bringing the Drama: Rooftop Prince

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Rooftop Prince is available for streaming on Hulu, Viki, and Dramafever.

ANNA: I just finished watching the first episode of Rooftop Prince and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. There were so many elements that were all over the place, it is difficult to summarize!

The Rooftop Prince, His Retainers, and Their Tracksuits

There are two parallel stories set hundreds of years apart, cast with the same actors. Is everybody time traveling, or are we looking at some odd cases of reincarnation?

In the present day, Se Na reacts badly when her mother remarries, providing her with a new sister, Park Ha. Se Na torments her little sister, and eventually causes her to become lost. Park Ha grows up in the United States with no memory of her previous family. She finds out that her father was looking for her and travels back to Korea in time to attend his funeral. She’s reunited with her stepmother and evil older stepsister.

The two sisters also exist in the past, with the older one about to be passed over as a candidate for crown princess in favor of the younger one. A horrible accident (or was it?) results in the younger sister being scarred. The older sister becomes crown princess. The crown prince Lee Gak is extremely charming and light-hearted, but when he wakes up to find that his princess has drowned in the middle of the night, he becomes overcome with grief. Determined to find out the truth behind his wife’s death, he puts together an investigative supergroup consisting of a scholar, warrior, and a fabulously fashionable eunuch.

In the present, a rich young man named Tae Yong who closely resembles the crown prince notices Park Ha, but he doesn’t ask her out. He’s betrayed by his cousin and drowns. Two years later, the crown prince and his retainers show up in Park Ha’s apartment. I think I’ve covered everything! What were your thoughts on the first episode?

EVA: You guys promised me a comedy! What the heck, man. The older sister isn’t funny, she’s evil! Awesomely evil, true, but still. Not a comedy!

In all seriousness, though, episode one is full of all the reasons why I usually give a series three chances before committing myself. It is clunky, disjointed, and not at all funny. Because the two storylines, one taking place in the Joseon era and the other in modern day, jump back and forth with no explanation, it’s hard to know if we’re dealing with a case of reincarnation or of doppelgangers. All I know for sure is, if it hadn’t been for the last scene where the prince and his retainers appear in the rooftop apartment after being sucked through a lunar eclipse after fleeing from Korean ninjas (that’s right, Korean ninjas), I’d have thought this show was going to be a straight up mystery.

The Rooftop Prince Scooby Gang

ANNA: I agree that the first episode was a bit confusing. I had no idea what to make of the doppelgangers, and the storylines seemed to tilt towards the tragic with all the bullying and death going on. The sudden switch of tone towards the end of the first episode where the prince forms his supergroup of retainers made me hope for much better things for the second episode, and I found myself liking it much better.

EMILY: Episode 1 was a lot more serious than the plot description I’d originally read of the series, but it is obvious that the whole episode is intended as set up for the hijinks to ensue later. The episode bounces back and forth between the story of a Joseon King, his beautiful Crown Princess, her scarred sister, and the story of modern reincarnations of the same people. Or are they reincarnations? There are a lot of questions and mysteries set up in the first episode. There are also two murder mysteries being set up. One in the past and one in the present. But they both have interesting twists. In the past, we aren’t entirely certain who the victim is, though it’s pretty much assumed to be the Crown Princess. Also, we don’t know who the killer is, though one piece of evidence points to an unlikely suspect. As for the accidental murder in the present, we know who the culprit is, but we aren’t entirely sure the victim is dead and not doing some sort of time-travel thing instead. You never know.

I enjoyed the first episode, and didn’t have any problems following the intertwined plots. I think Micky Yoochun is doing a great job in his role of the time-jumping King. His acting is a lot more animated than I’ve seen it in past dramas, and he sounds very funny with his historical accent (er, not that I’m one to judge Korean accents). I also must say, Micky looks fantastic in historical garb. He should stick to historical dramas forever and ever. Or at least, always wear that hat. I can see it now—Micky in some drama playing a lawyer, but wearing the historical hat. It would be awesome, I tell you.

Episode 1 ends right when things start to get funny, as our Joseon King and his sidekicks end up in a modern rooftop apartment. OF COURSE they land in a rooftop apartment. Given how often they appear in kdramas, the odds were fairly evenly split between them landing in a rooftop apartment, or a plush penthouse suite in a hotel. For comedic value, they obviously go for the rooftop.

Episode 2 promises to be very silly :)

Is it an elevator or a changing room? The modern world is so confusing!

ANNA: What did people think of episode 2? I liked the way it focused on the main thing I enjoyed in the first episode, the Joseon King and his merry band of sidekicks. Putting them in different colored tracksuits for modern dress was inspired, and there were so many funny moments when they were trying to learn how to survive in the modern world.

EVA: Well, I both enjoyed it and didn’t enjoy it. I loved the track suits and hated the slapstick. (I have a very low tolerance for slapstick.) I loved the hate/hate relationship that forms between Lee Gak and Park Ha, but hated how long it took Lee Gak to figure out that he has traveled through time. And, man, is Park Ha’s sister evil. Eeeeeeevil.

Here’s the thing: I know it sounds like I’m doing nothing but whine and complain about this show, but I’m actually enjoying it. I just wish I didn’t have to put my brain on hold to do so. Sure, this is a comedy and most situations are going to be played for laughs. But my ability to suspend disbelief is being sorely tested. As the series progresses through the first four episodes, Lee Gak is way too slow on the uptake. I’ll grant that it takes him a while to figure out the whole time travel/doppelganger thing, but don’t you think that once he understands that there is a guy in this world who looks just like him he’d be able to open his mind wide enough to embrace the possibility that there might also be a person in this world who looks just like the princess? Considering how quickly he grasped the concept of television, this shouldn’t have been such a stretch.

The other thing that’s bugging me are the merry henchmen. In episode one they were described to be intelligent, crafty free-thinkers. Sure, okay, they’re loyal to their king, but once they realized a) there isn’t a king in modern day Korea, b) their constant kowtowing draws a lot of unwanted attention, and c) that their best chance of returning to their time depends on the kindness of strangers, that they’d start trying to fit in? While I love the comedic aspects of the merry henchmen, I do wish they’d start living up to their potential.

A trunk full of adorable merry henchmen

ANNA: Overall, I’m enjoying this drama although it seems to reel me in gradually. I think that anyone considering watching it has to view at least the first two episodes because they are so different in tone. I didn’t feel truly hooked on this series until the very end of episode 4, where we see the dramatic tension of the show ratcheted way up as the whole reincarnation storyline that was introduced in the first series was finally addressed.

I liked the storyline with Park Ha’s business and the henchmen being willing to help out so much. I’m wondering what sort of outfits they will have to wear next, since they’ve already been in tracksuits and furry mascot costumes. After 4 episodes, Micky Yoochun’s performance is really starting to grow on me, and I can see why Emily is such a fan. The time-traveling prince is a tough role to pull off, and it looks like there will be plenty of challenging scenes ahead after the end of episode 4. While I’ve enjoyed this series, I think it took 4 episodes for me to become enthusiastic about it. I watched the first 4 episodes gradually over time, but with the twist scene at the end of 4 (even though it was a bit predictable), I can definitely see myself marathoning the next few episodes as soon as I get time to watch more.

EMILY: I’m having a hard time containing my thoughts to episodes 1-4 because I have gone ahead and watched all the episodes that are out now and am current :) I’m enjoying the show very much. It seems to have several mini story arcs. It begins serious, and then shifts to ridiculous for several episodes, as our spoiled prince and his color-coded Joseon Power Rangers adjust themselves to our times. This is played up for maximum silliness, as the writers find not just the major things (cars, elevators, etc) to baffle our time-travelers with, but also a lot of small details of modern life that we take for granted. From putting out a fire by spitting toilet water, to the deliciousness of omelet rice, to the fabulous black card that will let the prince buy anything (oh, the power of chaebol credit limits) there is a lot to get used to in our time. But once the hilarity ends, things start to take a more serious turn as the murder mystery heats up, the Prince finds his Princess, the villains step up their scheming, and romance begins to bloom. Through all of it, I like the chemistry between Park Ha and the Prince, the antics of the Power Rangers are endearing (poor lovelorn blue ranger), and I don’t even mind the obligatory kdrama Birth Secret that pops up. I will say that the villains in this series are in the running for worst villains ever. She, because of her skill at lying and ability to make me want to poke her eyes out, and him because of his total ineptitude. I don’t think he could manage to kill anyone even if he aimed and shot a gun directly at their heart.

I really look forward to how this drama will play out.

The Rooftop Prince wears a Texas Tuxedo

ANNA: I think you’re right about the series functioning in mini story arcs, as I can see a new arc developing at the end of episode 4 and start of episode 5. In some ways I like that structure because having the story presented in 3-4 episode bursts makes it easy to stop and start the series if you don’t have the time to watch the whole thing at once. I think I will be watching the entire series, even though I’m not going to be able to get through it as quickly as Emily.

EVA: I am glad you two have enjoyed what you’ve seen of the show so far, but the more I think about it, the more sure I become that I don’t need to see the rest of the episodes. Yeah, Mickey’s character begins to grow and the plot begins to thicken, but all the silliness has pulled me out of the story enough times that I don’t think I want to dive back in.

ANNA: So Rooftop Prince is a good show if you enjoy your kdramas with family angst mixed with slapstick, but not so great if you find yourself with a low tolerance for silly men dressed in tracksuits. Have you watched this show yet? What did you think?

Oishinbo A La Carte, Vol. 2 (Sake)

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By Tetsu Kariya and Akira Hanasaki. Released in Japan by Shogakukan, serialization ongoing in the magazine Big Comic Spirits. Released in North America by Viz.

It’s time for the Oishinbo Manga Moveable Feast, and though I had already reviewed the final volume a long time ago (see sidebar), I thought that I would take this time to revisit another volume, one which got a lot of buzz when it first came out over here. That would be the one devoted to sake, Japan’s national alcoholic beverage. And so we get several chapters, including one long multipart epic, devoted to what makes good sake – and why so much of it these days is bad.

Given that Oishinbo is about singing the praises of Japanese food, it’s not particularly surprising that much of it involves praise for Japan in general. One chapter here involves a businessman who has been ‘Westernized’ and has to be reminded of the joys of good old Japanese cooking and liquor. That said, it’s rather startling how much of this volume is just ripping into Japan’s sake trade over and over again. I’ve no idea if things are the same these days (these chapters were written 15-25 years ago), but much is made over the fact that popular sake in Japan tends to be watered down in order to increase profit, and have additives such as charcoal and MSG. It can get fairly depressing.

That said, of course, you knock them down in order to build them up. We also get much praise of the good old-fashioned small-time sake brewer, still using pure ingredients with no additives and storing it properly to bring out the best flavor. There’s actually a lot of comparison with French wine, in a way that reminded me of The Drops of God – it’s noted that France would never treat its wine the way Japan does its sake.

In these Viz compilations, characterization usually falls by the wayside – the danger of working with a 108+ volume series – but we still get a good sense of the main players, which is important for a series like this. You have to sympathize with Yamaoka and Yuka, and care about their lives, as otherwise you’re left with nothing but a manga that lectures you. (Which, admittedly, it can sometimes be anyway.) Yamaoka shows off his cleverness in the final chapter, which reminds us that sake is still an alcohol, and that there are some people who abuse that. And Yuka really shines in the multi-part story, managing to sweet-talk Yamaoka’s father, Yuzan (this is actually a running thing in the series, and Yuka is very, very good at it – note Yuzan’s retainers giggling). There’s no romance here, but if you want that go lean Japanese and then buy the original Vol. 47, which has the wedding.

At the end of the day, though, the way to judge Oishinbo is by its ability to make you want to search out more. After this volume, I wanted some sake – just as I wanted to visit an Izakaya after the final Viz volume. Oishinbo may be about a battle between father and son, or a growing romance between colleagues, but that’s just the spice. The real meat of the manga is its love of food and its burning passion for it being cooked and served properly. And it’s something yoou can’t really get in North American Comics, either, though I’d love Batman’s recipe for crumble apple pie.

Bookshelf Briefs 5/21/12

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This week, Sean, Kate, MJ, and Michelle look at recent releases from Yen Press, VIZ Media, Digital Manga Publishing, and Kodansha Comics.

Ai Ore!, Vol. 5 | By Mayu Shinjo | VIZ Media – I have completely given up on these characters – especially Mizuki – growing or learning from any of their experiences. And honestly, doing that makes it much easier to get into the groove of this melodramatic, silly manga. From Akira’s desperately trying to be taken seriously as a guy while wearing a kitty hoodie, to Mizuki’s over-the-top “MY WORLD IS ENDING!” reaction to her first fight with Akira, the situations here are made for amusement. Sure, there’s some soap opera dramatics – the fight I mentioned earlier – but even the serious backstory for Akira, where he reveals that his tutor once brought in an older woman to “make a man of him” – is played with its tongue in cheek. The ending seems to hint we may be seeing the return of “Dark Akira”, though – let’s hope he’s merely firm and seductive, and not the callous ass he was at the start. Fun stuff. –Sean Gaffney

Arata: The Legend, Vol. 10 | By Yuu Watase | VIZ Media – The latest installment of Arata: The Legend features body-swapping hijinks. Usually these kind of comic interludes are a sign that the artist is marking time between big fight scenes, but Yuu Watase uses this time-honored trick to advance the plot in a meaningful fashion, allowing Hinohara to infiltrate Yataka’s stronghold. The body-swapping gimmick also provides the characters an opportunity to reflect on their feelings for one another, giving us greater insight into Hinohara and Mikusa’s personalities. The only drawback to the out-of-character behavior is that it grants Watase license for fan service — something that the series doesn’t need to be funny or sexy. That minor gripe aside, Arata remains engrossing, finding the perfect middle ground between shojo angst and shonen action. Recommended. -Katherine Dacey

Hana-Kimi, Vols. 4-6 Omnibus | By Hisaya Nakajo | VIZ Media – A lot of this second omnibus deals with the class culture festival, where most of Mizuki’s class is dressing up in drag. This gives her an excuse to wear a dress most of the time, even if it’s as Alice in Wonderland. After a strong start, the author seems to have realized that the series will be a long one, so the actual romance between Mizuki and Sano isn’t moved forward as much. Instead, Nakatsu gets the focus, as he struggles with his repressed feelings for a “guy”. He’s mostly comedic, but I liked how he handled telling the girl who likes him that he was breaking it off – he’s a sweetie pie that sadly is doomed in a series like this. The addition of a female friend – as well as a new rival – for Mizuki is also welcome, and I look forward to the third and presumably last teaser omnibus. –Sean Gaffney

Itazura Na Kiss, Vol. 8 | By Kaoru Tada | Published by Digital Manga Publishing – There are times when Itazura Na Kiss is so frustrating, one wants to hurl it against the wall. Usually this is because the protagonist, Kotoko, is almost aggressively incompetent. In this latest volume, she has decided that what she wants to do is become a nurse and help Naoki with his medical practice, so she enrolls in nursing school with practically no idea what this will entail. Naoki is cutting in his criticism, as usual, but what’s interesting is that one of Kotoko’s classmates objects to how Naoki treats his wife and eventually presents himself as an alternative. Naoki, faced with jealous feelings for the first time, is thrown for a loop and it’s what he does to win Kotoko back that makes up for every bit of irritation caused by other elements of the series. Still recommended, despite its flaws! – Michelle Smith

Pandora Hearts, Vol. 10 | By Jun Mochizuki | Yen Press – While the series’ last few volumes have posed many more questions than they have answered, things finally come to a head here in volume ten. This volume is chock full of revelations, particularly regarding Gil and Vincent Nightray, and the atmosphere is tense in exactly the way that shows off Jun Mochizuki’s fast-paced storytelling style to its best advantage. Though crystal-clear plotting has never been Mochizuki’s strong point, clarity in the moment is, which is what makes a volume like this work so well. Panel-to-panel, she maps out these characters’ emotional truths so clearly that the text becomes nearly irrelevant to our understanding of their plights. That said, some of Mochizuki’s dialogue is so delightful (Xerxes Break owns my soul), it would be a tragedy to do without it. Still recommended. – MJ

Psyren, Vol. 4 | By Toshiaki Iwashiro | VIZ Media – I’m starting to enjoy this the more I get into it. The lead is likeable and talented while retaining that ‘everyman’ spirit, the cast isn’t too overpowered yet, and of course hard work is emphasized, as in the best Jump works. The introduction of the Elmore Wood kids is well-handled – they act like typical kids, ranging from bratty to shy to stoic. They help Ageha to figure out how to control his powers (well, we presume – we haven’t seen it in action just yet) by virtue of a simpler mindset and learning at a younger age. And, as a cliffhanger shows, they may be mankind’s last, best hope. Of course, they may all be killed at the start of the next volume, too. The only downside here is Kabuto, who lacks enough likeable traits to make a good comic relief character – you want him to fail. Otherwise, very good stuff. –Sean Gaffney

Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei, Vol. 12 | By Koji Kumeta | Kodansha Comics – “We’ll have to start a new campaign with easier content so that even first-timers can understand Zetsubou-Sensei,” declares suicidal teacher Itoshiki Nozumu in the first pages of volume 12. What follows is a sharp, funny deconstruction of a common manga practice: the catch-up chapter. I wish the rest of the jokes in volume 12 were as accessible to a Western reader as “The First-Timer Condition,” but the intricate wordplay and cultural allusions often sailed over my head. (Word to the translator: I know what Comiket is! More explanation of the yakuza jokes and economic references, please!) Zetsubou-Sensei ought to be in my wheelhouse — there was a Stendahl joke in chapter 112, for Pete’s sake! — but requires too much explanation to elicit more than an appreciative, “Oh, I get it. Very clever.” -Katherine Dacey

Until Death Do Us Part, Vol. 1

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Until Death Do Us Part is a slickly packaged compendium of action movie tropes that reads like a story. That’s not to say it’s bad — it isn’t — but to warn you that you may experience a powerful sense of deja-vu as you thumb through its numerous shoot-outs, explosions, and speeches about terrorism.

The opening pages plunge us directly into the action: a solemn pre-teen girl leaps from a speeding car, accosts a blind man, and begs him to help her, promising him jewels and money in return for his assistance. That man, Mamorou, proves surprisingly adept at dispatching bad guys; he’s a modern-day Zaitoichi, using a pair of special goggles and a fine-edged sword to disarm Haruka’s captors, a group of thugs in the employ of the Ex Solid Corporation. (Which begs the question: how does such an ill-named company stay in business? But I digress.) Haruka’s ability to pick Mamorou from a crowd of thousands is no accident; like the pre-cogs in Minority Report, she has an uncanny ability to predict the future. For several years, she used that power to enrich her family — mostly by playing scratch tickets — but now she finds herself running from several powerful organizations, each of whom sees her precognition as a tool for advancing their own interests.

Whether Until Death‘s similarities to The Professional, Mission: Impossible, Minority Report, and the entire oeuvre of Jason Statham are intentional is difficult to say; some of the plots skirt the line between theft and homage. Mamorou’s fellow crime fighters, in particular, seem like IMF recruits, as they’re armed to the teeth with the latest spy technology and weaponry — an incredible feat for an off-the-the-grid vigilante organization with no ties to the government or the mob. (Just in case we don’t fully appreciate how awesome this weaponry is, there are several scientists on hand to explain in excruciating detail how they work.) The sheer abundance of borrowed characters and story lines, however, work in Death‘s favor, with no single borrowing overpowering the resulting fusion of sensibilities.

Like many action manga, the artwork tacks between static scenes of talking heads — usually imparting some key points of information about a bad guy’s history, or describing a hypothetical technology — and kinetic scenes of bone-crunching violence. Though the fights aren’t as inventively staged as a John Woo shoot-out, DOUBLE-S wins points for carefully delineating the space in which the gun battles unfold; the reader is conscious of how walls, objects, and sight lines influence the outcome of those battles. DOUBLE-S is overly enamored of slo-mo bullets — a visual gimmick so overused in the last fifteen years it’s become a parodic gesture — but he uses it to good effect, demonstrating how swiftly Mamorou moves, and how precisely his blade slices through solid objects:

Mamorou slices bullets with his scientifically modified katana.

DOUBLE-S has several other nifty tricks up his sleeve as well. In one of the manga’s recurring visual gambits, DOUBLE-S shows us how Mamorou perceives his environment through his special goggles:

A Tokyo street as viewed through Mamorou’s goggles.

Though the characters are recognizable in their computer-enhanced form, they have a spectral quality to them; if anything, they resemble echoes or after-images, rather than corporeal entities. The artist’s quick cuts between Mamorou’s perspective and ours neatly underscores how much Mamorou must rely on his other senses to give these incomplete forms flesh and blood: how else could he be so devastating, given the limitations of his goggles?

Perhaps the best compliment I could give Death‘s creators is to note the skill with which it recycles familiar action-movie conventions. We’ve seen Death‘s characters and plots and scientifically implausible weapons in other stories, but Hiroshi Takashige and DOUBLE-S stitch them together in such a fashion that the seamwork is almost invisible. The resulting manga isn’t original, exactly, but it has enough style and integrity to engage the reader’s interest, making it an agreeable beach or airplane companion.

Review copy provided by Yen Press.

UNTIL DEATH DO US PART, VOL. 1 • STORY BY HIROSHI TAKASHIGE, ART BY DOUBLE-S • YEN PRESS • 448 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

One Piece, Vol. 62

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By Eiichiro Oda. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Weekly Shonen Jump. Released in North America by Viz.

Now that the gang is back together, we are off to Fishman Island. No, really! Really and truly, they do finally arrive at Fishman Island this time. Which sort of ends up being a mixed blessing, I will admit. I’m afraid that Fishman Island’s arc is similar to Skypeia and Thriller Bark – you like it more on a re-read, but at the time, it just annoyed you. Still, being annoyed by One Piece is still superior to being entertained by other, lesser shonen series.

Of course, first we have to get to the island, which is not as easy as it sounds. This is the better half of this volume, with each of the crew showing off why they’re awesome – everyone gets to fight (except Nami, whose navigation skills are what’s awesome here), we get another dumb goofy villain who actually seems to have more staying power than we expect, and Luffy tames a kraken. Of course he does.

Unfortunately, it turns out that Fishman Island is not quite as welcoming as you would have expected given our adventures with Cammie and Hachi. It turns out that the island was under protection by Whitebeard, and with him gone, power balances are quickly shifting. Another of the Four Emperors – Big Mom – is supposedly protecting them now, but this seems more like mafia protection than anything else. What’s more, the issues of prejudice – on both sides – that we’ve seen before in the Arlong and Sabaody arcs are still around, and there’s some particular nastiness when it becomes very hard to find a blood donor for Sanji, who is dying due to idiocy.

No, I won’t ever stop complaining about this. I will give Oda credit – when he decided to overuse a dumb idea, he really goes all out – but I still hate Sanji’s complete incompetence around women, even if you do acknowledge that he was on the okama island for two years. We see everyone else’s flaws here as well – including Nami’s lust for money, which hadn’t come up in a while – but it’s just harder to take with Sanji nosebleeding all over the place. Even if he is surrounded by gorgeous mermaids.

Having arrived at Fishman Island, our heroes are escorted to King Neptune and his beautiful daughter, but there’s already a conspiracy against them, as the local fortune teller has said Luffy will bring ruin to Fishman Island. Sounds like one of those self-fulfilling prophecies to me, honestly. A bigger problem is that we’re simply introduced to too many characters too fast here – there’s at least 20 new characters, each with boxes giving names and what time of Fishman they are – and there’s simply no way to know at this point who we have to be paying attention to. Well, except for Hody Jones, who appears to be the villain of the arc so far.

On a side note, the last cover page shows Makino with a baby?!?! Oh Oda, why you gotta destroy the Shanks/Makino shipper dreams? :)

There’s lots of cool action here, and some fun goofy humor. I also like that Oda is not forgetting about Nami’s past – there’s a great shot of her shuddering when she sees one pirate has an Arlong tattoo. But the arc is a bit too new to see where the plot is going, and thus this whole volume ends up being a bit more confusing than I think it really deserved to be. Hopefully next time we’ll see Jimbei and things will begin to get knit together.

Off the Shelf: Ode to Lionel Richie

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MJ: Hello, hello!

MICHELLE: Is it me you’re looking for?

MJ: Heh. Yes. Though now I’m a little embarrassed about it.

MICHELLE: I had the sheet music to “Say You, Say Me,” if that makes you feel any better.

MJ: It does, it does. So. What have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: Well, as promised, I undertook a marathon read of We Were There in order to finally get current with the series (now up to volume 14 in English). I must admit that I’m still kind of gathering my thoughts from the experience. But the thing that sticks in my head from when you talked about this volume last week is “That’s how you write a shoujo manga!” and I find that I couldn’t agree more.

There were several twists along the way that I totally didn’t expect, and I shan’t spoil them here, but I will say that I kind of love where the characters are at the moment, even though it’s pretty heartbreaking for some of them. I feel like mangaka Yuki Obata does an especially good job making readers understand exactly why Yano has the living situation he does without coming right out and saying, “it’s atonement.” I must also sing her praises in regards the “show, don’t tell” method of storytelling—in the volumes leading up to this one, we’d seen Yano referred to as kind but cold, and to see him so visibly, demonstrably moved in this volume shows how deeply he still loves Takahashi.

If I had any complaint at all, it would be that I could write multiple paragraphs about Yano, a couple of paragraphs about steadfast Takeuchi, and perhaps a sentence or two about Takahashi, the heroine. It’s not that she’s a flat character, exactly, but she is somewhat of an angelic figure, the only one who can heal Yano’s hurt. It struck me today that we see far more of a supporting character’s family than we ever see of hers!

Ultimately, I cannot stress enough how much I enjoyed catching up with this series, and how much I look forward to the final two volumes.

MJ: I feel like I could really write a lot about Takahashi, but maybe it’s just because I identified with her so strongly early on in the story. I suppose I feel like I *know* her in some way, despite the fact that she’s not as obviously fleshed-out. I could write a book about Takeuchi, though, mostly because I feel so freaking SORRY FOR HIM. Poor Takeuchi.

Seriously, though, this is a great shoujo manga.

MICHELLE: I definitely identify with her on some levels, to be sure. And man, Takeuchi. There are some especially painful moments for him in volume 14, too. I keep hoping he’ll get together with Sengenji in the end, but that’s a little bit Marmalade Boy.

Anyways, what have you been reading this week?

MJ: Well, first I read volume one of Shuzo Oshimi’s The Flowers of Evil, a new shounen series from Vertical. With the back cover tagline, “Aren’t you a perv too?” I wasn’t sure this would be a good fit for me, but I actually liked it quite a bit.

Kasuga is a bookish middle schooler who buries himself in Baudelaire poetry while admiring his pretty classmate, Saeki, from afar. One day after school, he finds himself alone in his classroom, along with Saeki’s gym bag, and impulsively steals her gym clothes to take home with him. He regrets this action pretty much right away, but by the time he has an opportunity to try to put the clothes back, the whole class is buzzing about a clothes-stealing pervert. Worse still, the class outcast, a foul-mouthed girl named Nakamura, saw him steal the clothes, and is using the information to blackmail him into hanging out with her.

Nakamura is obsessed with Kasuga’s bad deed, and with the idea of seeing Kasuga act out his fantasies (or what she imagines to be his fantasies) with the clothes, and she’s enough of a bully to get under his skin with it all, especially after Kasuga actually scores a date with his dream girl. This aspect of the story gives it a fetish-y feel, similar to something like Sundome, though the vibe is a bit different than that series, since the girl who’s controlling the hero isn’t the object of his sexual fantasies (at least not yet). If anything, it seems like she’s drawn to him mostly because she’s relieved to find out that she’s not the only person in her class having “perverted” thoughts, which is sort of heartwarming in an odd way.

What really makes this story work for me, is that both Kasuga and Nakamura are sympathetic characters, whose personal failures and perversions really ring true for their age. It’s hard not to relate to the boy who is aware that his obsession with foreign poetry is based in a kind of desperate pretension, but can’t stop himself from embracing that anyway, or the unpopular girl who is so grateful to find that she’s not all alone with her sexual fantasies, and can’t quite keep herself from wanting to know more, even if she has to be a bully to get it.

It may be too early to say this, but while I never would have recommended Sundome to *you*, Michelle, I think I actually might recommend The Flowers of Evil. And I certainly recommend it to everyone else.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I just don’t know. I’m a little intrigued and a little hesitant. I may just have to bolster my courage and give it a go.

MJ: I can at least reassure you that the first volume is very tame, sexually, so testing the waters should be relatively risk-free.

So what else have you got for us this week?

MICHELLE: To give a little bit of contrast to We Were There, I opted for another shoujo love story now in its fourteenth volume, Karuho Shiina’s Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You.

Despite a few superficial similarities—the protagonists live in Hokkaido, there’s a girl named Takahashi and a somewhat inscrutable character named Yano…—the depiction of first love in these series could not be more different, with the sweetness of Kimi ni Todoke offering a bit of brain balm after the more-or-less realistic drama of We Were There.

The premise of the series is that Sawako Kuronuma has always unintentionally scared her classmates with her spooky behavior and resemblance to a horror movie character, but has now finally made a couple of good friends and found love with the popular Shota Kazehaya. The fourteenth volume finds the main characters on a school trip to Okinawa, and while Sawako and Kazehaya come reeeeeeally close to sharing their first kiss, and it’s all very adorable, the really emotional moments belong to her two friends.

Most of the time, tomboyish Chizu is rather ditzy, but when she realizes that her childhood friend, Ryu, likes someone and hasn’t told her who it is, it really bothers her. She is genuinely shocked to learn that she is the object of his affections, but the volume ends before she can really begin to process the information. Even more affecting is Ayane Yano’s failed attempt to fall in love—seeing her two friends confess their love in recent volumes (Chizu has long had a thing for Ryu’s brother) made this mature and rather private girl yearn to experience love, and when a boy in another class asked her out, she said yes, thinking she might be swept away on the tide of his feelings for her. Alas, things don’t go as planned, and she ends the volume in tears.

I love that a character as complex as Ayane exists in the realm of shoujo manga, usually populated by girls who don’t think much before they speak, and find myself rooting for her happiness even more strongly than I do for the main characters, now that they seem to be on the path to happily ever after. I wonder if Yuki Obata and Karuho Shiina are in secret communication and Ayane is, like, Motoharu’s long-lost cousin or something.

MJ: I’m a few volumes behind in this series, but I love the fact that its cheerful sweetness manages to feel just as rich and emotionally true as the delicate melancholy of We Were There—thanks largely to the awesomeness of Chizu and Ayane. I’m a real sucker for female friendship in manga, and these two are the greatest example of that since Fruits Basket‘s Uotani and Hanajima. I’m so glad to hear there’s so much of them in volume fourteen.

MICHELLE: I am sure that Chizu and Ayane would totally be friends with Uotani and Hanajima. Not only that, the four of them would look on proudly as Tohru and Sawako tentatively became friends.

What else did you read this week?

MJ: This week, I also read volume one of Kyudo Boys, a series of short shoujo manga by Keiko Nishi, available from JManga. I say “shoujo,” because the stories are school-based, and it ran in Wings, but for the record, JManga classifies it as josei.

The stories all revolve around the members of a high school archery club—both male and female members. Some of the stories are romantic, like one about a boy who can’t decide whether he has a crush on a new girl or her twin brother, or a later story (one of my personal favorites) about an archery nerd who discovers that it’s his very nerdishness that makes him attractive to a pretty team member. I should note, however, that not all the stories are romances, and even the ones that are, are more concerned with exploring the idiosyncrasies of their subjects than reaching any kind of romantic conclusion. I love romance—we all know that—but even I have to admit that it’s refreshing to read a shoujo manga in a school setting that isn’t playing by those rules.

Short stories have never been my favorite format for manga, but these make the best of their brevity, by focusing on small moments and embracing an open-ended feel. Nishi never gets too ambitious. She doesn’t rush. She presents us with a few deft snapshots that let us feel like we’ve really gotten to know and love these students, without ever giving us too much to handle, story-to-story. Her artwork is charming, and relatively sparse, with a light touch that matches the breezy tone of the book overall.

Though it may seem like I don’t have a lot to say about this manga, the truth is, it’s simply charming. It’s a very satisfying light read, and I’d recommend it without question.

MICHELLE: I’ve definitely had Kyudo Boys on my radar as a candidate for a future Going Digital column. That’s largely because Keiko Nishi was responsible for some of the first josei to hit American shores. Like you, I’m not particularly into short stories, but I am definitely, definitely down with idiosyncratic romance!

MJ: Unlike Flowers of Evil, I can *wholeheartedly* recommend this series to you. It’s absolutely your kind of manga.

MICHELLE: That’s good to know!

Manga the Week of 5/23

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Only publishers at the end of the alphabet are welcome in next week’s manga shipment!

Vertical features the first volume of their new shonen romantic blackmail comedy The Flowers of Evil, and I’m afraid everyone has to buy it, as otherwise the cover image will continue to stare into your soul forever. Into your SOUL. FOREVER.

Viz has the 5th volume of Saturn Apartments, which I’ve lost track of but which is from the SigIkki line, so clearly it is deserving of your praise.

And there is a huge pile of stuff from Yen. Including two big new debuts. From Square Enix’s Young Gangan, we have Until Death Do Us Part, an action/adventure/esper epic that they are releasing in omnibus format, meaning we get the first 2 volumes here in one. This is 15 volumes and still running in Japan, so should be a lot of fun. And from Houbunsha (I believe they went straight to graphic novel, a rarity in Japan), we have the first volume of Magic Girl manga Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Hey, do you want to buy a magical girl manga? Kyubei can sell one to you!

But wait, Yen has even more! The penultimate volume of Bamboo Blade; the 12th Haruhi Suzumiya manga, which starts to adapt the 7th novel; new Nabari no Ou, Omamori Himari, Pandora Hearts, and Sumomomo Momomo, which I don’t have anything clever to say about; and the 9th Soul Eater, which I would say features things spiraling out of control, except that might imply Soul Eater had control in the first place. And lastly, there’s the 3rd volume of Daniel X, which is an OEL adaptation of the James Patterson series. Who doesn’t love OEL?

So what are you devouring next week?

Combat Commentary: Bleach (The Entire Series)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

FLCL Omnibus

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By GAINAX and Hajime Ueda. Released in Japan in two separate volumes by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Magazine Z. Released in North America by Dark Horse Comics.

I recall when Tokyopop first released this manga, a number of years ago, my general reaction to it was sort of a flat ‘what’. Of course, I was a much younger reader then, and have since read many experimental manga with weird art, weird plotting and a certain gonzo style to them. So I picked up Dark Horse’s new omnibus, which has a spruced-up translation, color pages, and some extras by the author, wondering if I could now appreciate the deep and beautiful meaning in the series. But as it turned out, most of FLCL still ends up making me say the same thing: what?

To be fair to its authors, this is probably the reaction they were going for anyway. It’s OK to write something that’s surreal, and if FLCL is anything else, it’s that. The plot, for those who may not know, involves a young boy named Naota and his metaphors for puberty, which in this series emerge from his head and turn into giant robots. He has a crush on a girl named Mamimi, a ditzy older girl who’s in love with Naota’s older brother (who is in the US) and using Naota as an emotional crutch. She’s also an arsonist. He also goes to school, where he has the usual two male friends, plus the class president, who is the mayor’s daughter and is tsundere for him. All of this is turned upside down when a woman named Haruko arrives, bringing chaos in her wake and fighting the robots… or using the robots to fight one another… in an intergalactic battle that is never really explained properly.

This manga ran in Magazine Z, which no longer exists but was basically Kodansha’s media tie-in magazine. And it should come as no surprise to you that this was based on an anime by GAINAX, who were trying to deconstruct everything so they could reconstruct themselves after putting out Evangelion. The anime was 6 episodes long, and the manga is sort of a truncated adaptation. However, unlike the manga version of Evaangelion, which sticks to the same plot/events but makes the characters more likeable, FLCL’s author is allowed to shake things up a bit. Certainly I don’t remember Naota killing his father in the original.

Sometimes the author does actually remember that this is supposed to be about Naota growing up. At one point, all three female protagonists are living in his house, and Haruko and Mamami decide to tease him by pretending to be lesbians, something that does actually play off of male teenage sexuality. The ending is also rather interesting, changed slightly from the original – Haruko actually gives Naota her broken Vespa, and challenges him to fly to outer space after her. Of course, now our last shot is of his bruised and bloody fingers trying to fix/fly the thing. One might argue it’s more downbeat than the original.

The art is very stylized, and may possibly be worth a look-see. And I still like Mamimi despite myself. But for the most part, what read as an incoherent mess 8 years ago is *still* an incoherent mess, even if the author would like us to think otherwise. If you’re looking for teenage metaphors for sexuality, there are better manga than this.

Adventures in the Key of Shoujo: Sailor Moon Vol. 4

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Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Vol. 4 | By Naoko Takeuchi | Published by Kodansha Comics USA | Rated: T, Ages 13+

After my aggravation over volume 3, in this volume, things start taking on a more serious angle with the remains of the team trying to make sense of new villains (Black Moon), and the kidnappings of Sailors Mars and Mercury. Chibiusa’s backstory begins to be fleshed out and Usagi starts to buckle under the stress of having all her friends snatched away from her. I was really frustrated by the previous story’s lack of tension despite all the danger they were in, but Takeuchi re-applies the pressure by bringing more people in on the fact that the Sailor Senshi are missing. So now things are moving faster, and this is better for the narrative in my humble opinion.

I find that despite Usagi discovering her royal lineage, she proves she’s still a teenager with her jealousy over Chibiusa hanging out with Mamoru so much. But as we learn more about Chibiusa, we discover that Usagi and she are more alike than they realize. Turns out Chibiusa and Usagi are related to each other and Chibiusa is from the thirtieth century. Using the two girls as a sounding board, I often wonder what would happen if I met my future descendants. Would I have anything in common with them? Or more importantly, if they were in trouble, would I fight for them? It’s interesting to speculate, especially since I had previously derided Usagi’s somewhat childish behaviour towards Chibiusa. Does this completely absolve Usagi? No, she can still go over her boundaries into somewhat irrational territory but I’ll give her a pass from now on, within reason.

A little window gets opened in relation to Sailor Jupiter. Since she was introduced, I haven’t seen sight nor hair of the poor girl, except when she’s needed to defeat evil, blah, blah, blah. But I get an teeny tiny window into her thoughts and how important the others have become to her, and she then perfectly articulates why the rest of the girls and Mamoru don’t look (on the surface at least) to be all that concerned about their missing comrades. Also, we see her and Motoki have a tender, quiet moment only to have it snatched away without Motoki knowing it’s happened. Is this a comment on the attrition of war and its effect on its soldiers? It would be interesting if I could confirm this. The manga runs its usual wire-thin line between tragedy and comedy, so all bets are off in this volume as to where Takeuchi takes this.

In my quest to understand what theories you could derive from Sailor Moon, I’m looking at the concept of Black Moon as villains. For the most part, the individuals fall into the Dark Kingdom’s mold of villainy for villainy’s sake. But the overarching idea behind them (and I’m trying to stay out of spoiler zones here) is they are rebelling against the established order. They don’t want to simply accept that this is how society has gone and they won’t agree with it. The problem for them is, like all rebellions, there’s nothing inherently wrong with not wanting to go with the rest of society, just that once you get out of talking and protesting about your ideals, you reach an impasse. You can either accept that change will take time and get into the trudge of eventually changing things, or you decide more drastic measures are required. Black Moon falls into the latter category. So they murdered and maimed their way to the top of Chibiusa’s world and now want to do the same to the present. So in this way, I would surmise, the lesson here is you can get what you want, the only thing you’ve got to do is not mind stepping on people to do it. It would be fantastic to think Takeuchi was trying to say something about the manga industry but I fear I’m grasping at straws here.

Another thing that pops up is the idea of pre-destiny. For those who do not know, predestiny is the idea that all the major events in your life were pre-ordained before you ever existed and continue after you’re gone. Two people suffer this problem: Chibiusa and Mamoru. Mamoru is in a brief (and I’m stumbling for the next word) spiritual conference with his dead lieutenants—the ones who were Queen Beryl’s resurrected minions but who later came to see the folly of their ways. He wonders why he was even reincarnated if he can’t protect Usagi. Was he fated to fail? No, say his lieutenants, because you’re here means that Usagi will be Queen and you King. While Mamoru begins to understand from that point on, it’s not decided or explained by the author whether Mamoru’s men know this truth about him because it is a truth or because they have advanced knowledge. Is it predestiny if it’s imparted by a person outside the need for a personal destiny? On Chibiusa’s side, was she always fated to find Usagi and the Sailor Senshi? Is the fact that she’s related to Usagi a deciding factor in her arrival in our present? Again, no answers, just concepts.

I have to say this volume has me thinking, rethinking and over-thinking the plot and concepts it brings with it. We haven’t even talked about the amount of pressure Usagi—that she alone finds herself under by the end of the volume. Things get very grim for our heroes—decidedly so. While I’m sure there’s an inner light or a new spell to call upon, I find myself hammering away at the cogs of the machine rather than the machine itself.

Hey, I’ve a homework assignment for all of you, if you’re interested. Can you tell me what part of Sailor Moon got you thinking beyond the page? What ideas or theories did it throw up? If not Sailor Moon, you can use any shoujo manga you like. I’ll print whatever you send me in next month’s Sailor Moon post. If your comment has spoilers for SM, then I’ll ask MJto post them for me so I don’t read them ^-^!

After my blood pressure problems with dealing with volume 3, I should be equally angry with this volume, but that one conversation with Sailor Jupiter took the wind right out of my sails. So is the series getting better for me? Certainly, and my initial hangups about the series (it’s too girly, the villains are wishy-washy) have largely evaporated due to Takeuchi’s layering of plot on plot, dialogue over dialogue as we start to see the whole thing start to coalesce into something close to a concept in motion. This series, despite the occasional landmine, continues to shine and hold my attention.

Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Vol. 5

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By Naoko Takeuchi. Released in Japan as “Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Nakayoshi. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics.

Sailor Moon is at Vol. 5, and the R arc is nearing its end. Things are getting bad. Mercury, Mars and Jupiter are still abducted, Moon’s been kidnapped, and now Wiseman seems to have spirited off Chibi-Usa. Will our heroes be able to stop the rising tide of pervasive evil? Well, there’s 7 more volumes of the main storyline, so the answer to that is obvious. The question is how dramatic and interesting can the author make it before Usagi fires her beam of super-concentrated pureness at the villain?

Quite a bit, as it happens. The villains below Wiseman seem to get a bit more depth to them than their first arc counterparts. In particular, Saphir seems like he might actually betray the villains for the sake of his family. Unfortunately, we’re not at the point yet where the manga starts redeeming minor villains, and the power of Death Phantom within him proves too much. Demande fighting his conditioning was also interesting, though I find Demande so loathsome that the impact was lessened for me. Unfortunately for the Black Moon Family, they find themselves replaced by a more useful villain, who has closer ties to our heroes.

That’s right, it’s time for Black Lady. Take all of the frustrations, desires and fears of a typical eight-year-old girl (again, ignore that she’s supposedly 902, that makes no sense). Then infuse her body with evil, and age her up so that she looks like an adult. This plotline can get a little creepy, be warned – Chibi-Usa’s jealousy of Usagi gets played out here with incestual subtext, and seeing Black Lady kissing her mind-controlled dad is meant to be as unpleasant as it sounds. Still, Black Lady does an excellent job of making the villain’s plan come to fruition – so much so that if they’re going to stop her, it’s going to require the big guns. They’re just going to have to – STOP TIME.

I have to admit, re-reading this volume, I hadn’t realized how emotional Sailor Pluto gets in it. I’d gotten used to the concept of her as the cool, stoic warrior of time – which she clearly isn’t here. Lamenting her fate (she can’t leave the time gate, she can’t let people through the time gate, and she can’t stop time, all rules she breaks in this arc), we realize that her true desire has simply been to be able to fight with the rest of the senshi. This is why she has such a close bond with Chibi-Usa, who has similar feelings of loneliness. Of course, you don’t break the only three rules of your position without consequences, and Pluto’s are particularly heartbreaking, even if you do know how things end up in the S arc and beyond. That said, her sacrifice was definitely worth it, as they were able to get Chibi-Usa back, as well as give Sailor Moon the final bit of determination she needs to beat the bad guys (even if the “name of the moon” speech seems a little jarring after such a serious scene.

The rest of the volume is basically getting Usagi in place to defeat Death Phantom, then getting her back. (Which reminds me, there’s a very amusing scene towards the start of the book where Tuxedo Mask runs off to rescue Chibi-Usa, and a stressed Sailor Moon collapses. They decide to take her back to the 20th Century to recuperate… for about 10 minutes, then the Black Moon Family messes things up so they have to return again. Pacing can sometimes be a problem with Takeuchi.) Luckily, everything works out, and Sailor Moon is even able to briefly meet her future self (hey, they’ve already broken all the other laws of time). We also see the three abducted senshi reuniting with the human side characters who their chapters focused on, which was nice and sweet. (I can’t remember if we ever see them again, but that’s par for the course with minor Sailor Moon characters.)

This volume really doesn’t let up at all, being a breathless race to the climax from beginning to end. And while that may disappoint some fans of the anime (certainly the other four senshi really have very little to do here), it helps to convey the tension needed to support such scenes. And Chibi-Usa goes home to the future! … no, wait, she’s back immediately, as Neo-Queen Seremity apparently regards her past self as free babysitting. Oh well, it’s always nice to end an arc on a cute note. On to the third, and some might say best, arc.

Comic Conversion: The Baby-Sitters Club

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rohan at the Louvre

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In 2007, NBM Comics-Lit published Nicolas de Crecy’s Glacial Period, the first in a series of graphic novels commissioned by the Louvre Museum. The goal of Glacial Period — and the four books that followed it — was to introduce readers to the richness and complexity of the Louvre’s vast collections through a familiar medium: comics.

The artists’ strategies for bridging the divide between fine and sequential art have varied. In Glacial Period, for example, a team of anthropologists unearth the Louvre’s collections, which have been buried under ice for a millennium. The scientists try to make sense of the objects they discover, not unlike a group of aliens speculating about the purpose of a Coke bottle or an Etch-A-Sketch. Other novels are more fanciful: Eric Liberge’s On the Odd Hours reads like a classy version of Night at the Museum, in which the museum’s iconic pieces come to life, roaming the empty galleries until the night watchman can subdue them. Still others are explicitly historical: Bernar Yslaire and Jean-Claude Carriere’s Sky Over the Louvre, for example, stars two of the French Revolution’s best-known bad boys: Maximilien Robiespierre and David.

Hirohiko Araki’s Rohan at the Louvre, by contrast, takes its cues from the world of J-horror, using the Louvre as the setting for a nifty ghost story. In the book’s opening pages, we’re introduced to Rohan, an aspiring manga artist who lives with his grandmother in a nearly deserted rooming house. (N.B. Fans of JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure may recognize Rohan as a minor character from one of the later volumes of the series, though prior knowledge of JoJo is not necessary for appreciating Louvre.) The unexpected arrival of a beautiful divorcee turns the normally placid household upside down with tearful drama. Within a week of her arrival, however, Nanase disappears into the night, never to be seen again.

We then jump forward ten years: Rohan, now 27, is a successful manga artist who decides to visit the Louvre to view what Nanase once described to him as “the darkest painting in the world.” The painting, he learns, has never been publicly displayed; it sits in a long-forgotten basement vault. What transpires in the bowels of the Louvre is a mixture of old-fashioned Japanese ghost story and contemporary slasher flick; if one were to update Masaki Kobayashi’s Kwaidan for today’s audiences, the denouement of “The Black-Haired Woman” or “Hoichi the Earless” might look like the climatic scene of Rohan.

For all the gory zest with which that scene is staged, Rohan‘s artwork is uneven. Araki’s command of color is impeccable: the prelude is bathed in a golden light, while the scenes at the Louvre are rendered in a cooler palette of grey, blue, and pure black, a contrast that nicely underscores Rohan’s journey from youthful inexperience to maturity. Araki’s sexy character designs are another plus; even the most muscle-bound figures have a sensual quality to them, with full lips and eyes that that moistly beckon to the reader.

When those figures are in motion, however, Araki’s artwork is less persuasive. Rohan and Nanase’s bodies, for example, rotate along several heretofore undiscovered axes; only Power Girl and Wonder Woman twist their bodies into more anatomy-defying poses. Araki’s fondness for extreme camera angles similarly distorts his characters’ bodies, as he draws them from below, behind, or a forty-five degree angle, eschewing simple frontal views whenever possible. Such bodily distortions are meant to give depth to the picture plane, I think, but the result is curiously flat; the characters often look like paper dolls that have been bent into unnatural shapes, rather than convincing representations of walking, talking people.

What Araki’s artwork does best is convey a sense of place. The opening pages are lovely, offering us a peek into a world that is largely — though not completely — untouched by modernity. Araki takes great pains to render the boarding house’s environs — its rock garden and gnarled pine trees — as well as its interior of spartan rooms and sliding doors. We feel the stillness and seclusion of the inn, and bristle when Nanase’s cell phone pierces that tranquility.

Likewise, Araki captures the Louvre in vivid detail. He guides the reader through its galleries, marching us past the Nike of Samothrace and several rooms of seventeenth- and eighteenth-century paintings. We follow Rohan’s gaze upwards towards vaulted ceilings encrusted in sculptural detail and elaborate frescoes, pausing to meet the gaze of the Dutch burghers and Roman gods whose images are mounted on the gallery walls. We then descend into the museum’s extensive network of tunnels and storage vaults, a veritable catacombs of neglected and obscure objects spread out over hundreds of acres. Although these dark, claustrophobic spaces make an ideal setting for a horror story, they’re also a powerful reminder of the Louvre’s history; the tunnels are remnants of a twelfth-century fortress that once occupied the site of the present-day museum.

If the artwork is, at times, overly stylized, Rohan at the Louvre is still an imaginative celebration of the Louvre Museum, conveying its scale, age, and majesty. Araki’s book is not as sophisticated or ambitious as some of the other titles in this series, but is one of the most dramatically satisfying, achieving a near-perfect balance between telling a ghost story and telling the Louvre’s own story. Recommended.

ROHAN AT THE LOUVRE • BY HIROHIKO ARAKI • NBM/COMICS-LIT • 128 pp. • NO RATING