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The Flowers of Evil, Vol. 1

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By Shuzo Oshimi. Released in Japan as “Aku no Hana” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Bessatsu Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Vertical.

Sometimes you get one of those series coming down the pike where you know, based on your own personal tastes, you’re going to both love it *and* hate it. I sort of felt that way when I heard about Flowers of Evil. It’s somewhat twisted, which appeals to me, and also has a very distinctive cover, which Vertical has adapted well from the original Japanese. On the other hand, it features that classic beloved-in-Japan but not-so-much-here “weak male lead”, which tends to frustrate me quite a bit more than it probably should. If I’m going to be identifying with characters in stories I read, I’d like them to be less aggravating, thanks. In addition, I’d read the author’s Drifting Net Cafe on JManga, and found it riveting yet thoroughly unpleasant.

(Note that the typeface for the cover title has changed between releasing the above picture to retailers and actually coming out – Vertical has a lot of last-minute changes to spruce up their covers, mostly for the better.)

After reading Flowers of Evil 1, I’m prepared to hang in there for the long haul. As with Drifting Net Cafe, riveting is the adjective I find myself using to describe it. The plot itself is not the most original – outcast girl blackmails weak male guy, who’s interested in pretty-yet-unapproachable other girl – but as ever, it’s not the plot that matters so much as what the author does with it. Takao is an *interesting* weak male lead. His obsession with Baudelaire – particularly Flowers of Evil, his collection of poetry from which this manga gets its title – is interesting, but mostly as he almost uses it as a psychological crutch. I read important books, he thinks, so I am better than the people around me. It’s the teen intellectual approach, and god knows I did it myself a bit when I was in high school.

Most of the characterization in this volume goes to Takao. The object of his affection, Nanako, gets a little bit of oblique development towards the end – I liked her discomfort as the other classmates were accusing Nakamura, and she and Takao do actually look like a nice couple. We’re still mostly seeing her through his eyes, though. As for Nakamura, the girl on the front cover… I still don’t quite know what to make of her. She seems to enjoy manipulating Takao for her own amusement, but is that all there is? In this case, the fact that we can’t see what she’s thinking is what drives us on. Is she simply bored with life? Does she have feelings for Takao (something he accuses her of towards the end, and which she very quickly rips apart)? Is she simply enjoying having power over someone, in the way that many teenagers find they love? Or is she trying to get Takao to mature, to develop into a stronger man?

I notice how much I wrote above about how teenagers think. This first volume deals with that subject a lot. What is considered to be perverse, what can you say or not say around your friends… how much you’re allowed to show how puberty is changing you. Takao is actually, compared to some of the freaks we’ve seen in other shonen manga, a rather mild case, but because this is a fairly realistic plotline, it hits closer to home. Likewise, Nakamura seems to have a few perversions of her own. (I like the flush she gets as she’s stripping him in the school library. That and the ending where she screams at him shows that she’s not controlling her emotions as well as we think.) The combination of nostalgia and discomfort drives Flowers of Evil, and it’s done well enough that I absolutely want to see what happens next. Even if I may squirm a bit.

Off the Shelf: Second volumes & others

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MICHELLE: Hey, MJ? What did the fish say when he ran into the wall?

MJ: I don’t know, Michelle, what did the fish say when he ran into the wall?

MICHELLE: “Dam.”

MJ: Okay, that time I actually laughed.

MICHELLE: Yay! Victory at last!

Anyhoo, I believe it’s your turn to go first in talking about some of the manga you’ve read since we last convened.

MJ: You’re right!

So, first I caught up with you (and the rest of the manga blogosphere), and finally read the first two volumes of GTO: 14 Days in Shonan, the latest hit from Vertical. I have to admit, that despite all the praise, I was a little reluctant to dive into the GTO universe. I’d never read any of it when it was published by Tokyopop, so I wasn’t at all familiar with the characters, and even after your reassurances a few columns ago, I still couldn’t quite shift myself from simply “intrigued” to “actually cracking the books.” This week, I finally did it, and I am pleased to say that I enjoyed myself so much that I decided to bring it here to the column, even though we discussed the series so recently.

You’ve already covered the premise, so I won’t rehash it all here. While, unlike you, I didn’t worry about the comedic sensibility coming too close to something like Detroit Metal City (I loved Detroit Metal City), I did worry that I’d just find it all kind of… boring. Or maybe contrived. Fortunately, it was neither, and (again, unlike you) I think I just might be looking to try to track down all the series’ previous volumes.

What I found pretty spectacular about 14 Days in Shonan, is that it features a main character who spends a lot of time telling other people just how much of a badass he is, while actually being a badass. Usually, if a character has to tell me how great he is, that’s a sure sign that I won’t think he’s great at all—but in this case, Eikichi is exactly what he says he is, and I find myself with absolutely no doubt at all that he’ll be able to do absolutely anything he says he can, including winning over all the teens at the White Swan Children’s Home, while also possibly saving the world. And perhaps curing cancer. Can you tell I liked him?

Seriously, though, I enjoyed these volumes so much more than I expected, I find myself wishing I had some kind of award to give out for it, or something. It’s been a while since my expectations were so neatly trounced.

MICHELLE: Yay, I’m glad you liked it! I like what you said about the reader’s confidence in the protagonist’s ability to make good on his promises; I absolutely felt the same. I should also note that I liked the second volume even more than the first, and am at least intrigued by the prospect of reading the earlier series, if daunted by the expense of such an endeavor.

MJ: I’d say that I preferred the second volume as well, and I’m actually glad I saved them up to read together. Though now, of course, I’m anxious to get to the third!

So what have you been reading this week?

MICHELLE: Well, speaking of second volumes… I checked out volume two of Durarara!! this week. For the uninitiated, this is ostensibly the story of a kid named Mikado, who has moved to Ikebukuro to attend high school and has encountered its various peculiar residents. There’s a lot more going on besides that, though, including a mysterious gang, a nefarious pharmaceutical company, and a headless (female) figure in black who rides through town on a motorcycle.

I deemed volume one “weird but intriguing,” and was hoping things would start to make a bit more sense in the second volume. And they do. I think, though, that my favorite plotline—the mystery surrounding Celty, the black rider—may actually now make a bit too much sense. A key revelation regarding her felt so obvious I’m left wanting a twist of some kind. “Is that all there is?” Meanwhile, other aspects of the story are still fairly baffling at this point.

I guess my gripe is I’d prefer a more balanced march towards clarity, as opposed to a lopsided one. Durarara!! is a very stylish series, and not one with a whole lot of depth, and I’d hate to see Celty’s tale resolved in a perfunctory manner.

MELNDA: I admit I had little patience with volume one, and though it’s heartening to hear that volume two is more coherent, I’m not sure it’s my cup of tea. Normally, I can deal with waiting for things to make sense, but it sounds like the payoff may not be worthwhile.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I really don’t know at this point. I’m willing to keep going with it a while longer, but I have no idea whether I’ll be satisfied or annoyed in the end.

What else did you read this week?

MJ: On a very different note, I also read the latest volume of one of my favorite current shoujo series, Yuuki Obata’s We Were There. Though this is a title I have reviewed regularly, I think this may be the first time I’ve brought it to Off the Shelf.

For anyone who might be unfamiliar with this series, it’s one of those titles like Sand Chronicles that begins as a high school romance, but eventually takes its characters much further into their lives, ultimately feeling much more like josei than shoujo, at least for my money. Though unresolved teen emotions are a major element of the romance, the characters also must face much more grown-up concerns, like jobs, marriage proposals, and taking care of ailing parents.

Clinging to first love is often a theme in these types of stories, and that’s certainly the case with We Were There, though it’s only “first love” for Nanami, the story’s heroine, as one of the romance’s primary conflicts is hero Motoharu’s lingering feelings for his former girlfriend who died in a car accident (and some of the ill-considered choices he makes out of guilt and grief). Though the plot is pure soap opera, Obata’s handling of it is so thoughtful and complex, it feels very little like anything I would normally describe with that term. Like Obata’s writing, the relationships in We Were There are as delicate as a scrap of old lace, ready to crumble at the slightest touch. And crumble they do.

This series has long been a favorite of mine—one of a short list of shoujo manga (along with more dramatic titles like Banana Fish and Tokyo Babylon) that’s made me sob helplessly for long periods while reading. So it was a bit of a surprise to me to find that volume 13 left me feeling completely disillusioned with the story’s primary relationship, to the point where I no longer had any desire to see it rekindled. I was okay with this, really. After all, there was another perfectly wonderful love interest just waiting there for my heroine. I didn’t need to care about Nanami and Motoharu anymore. I really, really didn’t.

Except now I do.

And that, volume 14, is how you write a shoujo manga. Heh.

MICHELLE: I stalled out on volume four of We Were There, but I actually just started over from the beginning the other day! If all goes according to plan—and if you don’t mind a bit of redundancy—I’ll be talking about this volume next week! I really look forward to seeing how the series progresses, as I am still firmly in the high school portion of the story.

MJ: I will be thrilled to hear what you think of this volume next week! And I’ll take care not to spoil you any further.

What else do you have for us this week?

MICHELLE: You may remember that I was a big fan of Dining Bar Akira, a BL oneshot published by NETCOMICS. So when JManga licensed another oneshot by its creator—Tomoko Yamashita—I knew I had to read it.

Don’t Cry, Girl is first and foremost an exceedingly silly manga. Due to unspecified problems with irresponsible parents, 17-year-old Taeko is sent to live with an acquaintance of her father named Masuda. Unfortunately for virginal Taeko, Masuda is a nudist and opens the door in his birthday suit. Taeko freaks out, as any normal person would, and I was giggling by page three, thanks to dialogue like, “Oh, shut up! Shut up, you stupid naked dumbass!”

Still, she’s got nowhere else to go, so Taeko and Masuda continue to cohabitate. Yamashita has a lot of fun with the premise, positioning speech bubbles and house plants in front of Masuda’s nether regions, and eventually introducing a friend for Masuda whose cool and sophisticated veneer hides a penchant for juvenile humor. A couple of would-be serious moments don’t quite work however, and make it hard to remember that this is a comedy and certain things don’t really need to make sense.

Also included is a story called “3322,” in which another young woman is staying with her father’s acquaintance. Kanoko is considering leaving school, so her father has her stay with Chiyoko, who is probably her mother. While Chiyoko has a dalliance with a local man, and her friend Yoko seems to pine unrequitedly for her, Kanoko finds herself interested in Yoko while frustrated by the adults and all their secrets. It’s an interesting tale and one I wish could be expanded upon.

Although a little uneven, Don’t Cry, Girl is still a lot of fun. And JManga’s now got another Yamashita title up—Mo’some Sting—which I will definitely be checking out!

MJ: Okay, now I’m giggling thanks to just the bit of dialogue you quoted! Silly manga is not always to my taste, but this sounds like far too much fun to pass up!

MICHELLE: I think it’s just the right kind of silly. Once again, I find myself thanking JManga for offering something it’s very unlikely we would’ve been able to get in English otherwise. New est em, new Tomoko Yamashita… could new Saika Kunieda (Future Lovers) be next? One can only hope!

MJ: That’s worth some hope, indeed!

The Flowers of Evil, Vol. 1

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If you grew up in a small town, you probably knew someone like Takao Kasuga, the nebbish-hero of The Flowers of Evil. Kasuga is a precocious middle-schooler who copes with provincial life by burying his nose in a book. His peers tolerate him, but find him a little too smug and strange to be one of the guys. Kasuga, for his part, takes pride in his sophisticated reading habits, stashing poems in his desk and telling his classmates that they’re too stupid to appreciate his favorite writer, Charles Baudelaire.

In a moment of impulse, Kasuga steals the gym outfit of beautiful classmate Nanako Saeki — an act witnessed by Sawa Nakamura, the class outcast. Nakamura confronts Kasuga after school, threatening to expose him as the thief unless he complies with her requests. Her motives for blackmailing Kasuga are complex, a mixture of prurient interest in Kasuga’s sexual fantasies and sadistic delight in wielding power over a boy. At times Nakamura  physically dominates him — she punches and tackles him — and at times she manipulates him with humiliating tasks and questions.

I’d be the first to admit that the similarities between Flowers of Evil and Sundome — however superficial — predisposed me to dislike the book. I didn’t think I had the stomach for another story in which a ball-busting girl sexually and psychologically tortured a sad-sack boy. Yet Flowers of Evil proved a far more compelling and honest look at adolescent sexuality than Sundome, thanks, in large part, to Shuzo Oshimi’s sympathetic portrayal of Kasuga.

Throughout the book, author Shuzo Oshimi hints that Kasuga’s character was inspired by his own experiences as a book-toting misfit. “I read Baudelaire’s Flowers of Evil for the first time in middle school,” he explains at the end of chapter one. “I didn’t understand much of it, but the book’s feel — suspicious, indecent, yet nastily noble — made me think, I’m so cool for reading it.” Kasuga, too, clearly feels a sense of superiority for having discovered Baudelaire at a young age; in a fit of self-pity, he muses, “How many people in this town understand Baudelaire?” At the same time, however, he’s keenly aware that his peers think he’s weird. Kasuga may be mature enough to appreciate Baudelaire — or perhaps, more accurately, to think he understands Baudelaire — but he isn’t quite old enough to shake off his classmates’ teasing.

Oshimi also does an exceptional job of dramatizing Kasuga’s inner sexual turmoil. Early in the book, for example, Kasuga catches sight of Saeki. In a flash, he pictures her clad in gym clothes, blushing and telling him, “I love you.” His acute embarrassment at being discovered mid-reverie is all the more palpable for the way in which he’s drawn: Kasuga sinks into his chair, his shoulders slumped, brows furrowed, and body foreshortened, making him look like a moist ragdoll. In later chapters, Oshimi uses surreal imagery — a wall of eyes, a fun-house mirror, a giant sink hole — to suggest that Kasuga’s normal teenage discomfort with sexual feelings has become something more powerful and destructive: shame.

If Kasuga is a sympathetic character, Nakamura poses greater difficulties for the reader. She claims her true agenda is to expose him as a pervert, but nothing about Kasuga’s behavior indicates that he is; if anything, Kasuga is naive, torn between romantic and sexual ideas about love. (That he calls Saeki “my muse, my femme fatale, my Venus” suggests the extent of his confusion.) Nakamura, too, appears to wrestling with complicated sexual feelings; in several scenes, she hints at her own predilections, only to accuse Kasuga of harboring even nastier ones. In short, Nakamura seems intent on finding someone more self-loathing and sexually confused than she is, yet her behavior is so violent and manipulative it sometimes feels as if Oshimi is trying too hard to suggest her disaffection; Nakamura’s character veers dangerously close to being a symbol of castration anxiety, rather than an emotionally damaged teenage girl.

That said, The Flowers of Evil is a shockingly readable story that vividly — one might even say queasily — evokes the fear and confusion of discovering one’s own sexuality. Recommended.

THE FLOWERS OF EVIL, VOL. 1 • BY SHUZO OSHIMI • VERTICAL, INC. • 202 pp. • NO RATING (BEST FOR OLDER TEENS)

Manga the Week of 5/16

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what floats your boat?

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

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Hello, Manga Bookshelf!

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

 

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

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

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

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

Bookshelf Briefs 5/7/12

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

Highschool of the Dead, Vol. 6 | Story by Daisuke Sato, Art by Shouji Sato | Yen Press – After reading the first six volumes of this Dawn of the Dead rip-off, I’m still mystified by its appeal. The layouts are busy and poorly composed, a riot of screentones, traced elements, and grossly distended breasts, while the script consists mostly of characters ordering one another around. Yes, there are plenty of scenes of zombie carnage, but even those aren’t executed with much imagination. In volume six, for example, our heroes try to fight their way out a shopping mall, eventually taking refuge on the roof. Sound familiar? That’s because volume one follows the same basic trajectory — just swap “school” for “mall,” and the two storylines are virtually interchangeable. That kind of lazy storytelling might be excusable if Highschool of the Dead were funny or exceptionally gory, but when the laughs and scares are in such short supply, it’s hard to fathom why horror fans are making do with such weak sauce. -Katherine Dacey

Itazura Na Kiss, Vol. 7 | By Kaoru Tada | Digital Manga Publishing – We’re now over halfway through this series, and so we begin to get some new plotlines and characters debut in order to give us more to chew on than “When will Naoki be nice/when will Kotoko be smart?” So we get a new girl who is clearly introduced to be the ‘consolation prize’ to nice yet loser-ish Kinnosuke. It works here, though, as Chris is so much fun – kudos to DMP for translating her fractured Japanese in a way that shows how she sounds to everyone else – and you’re also rooting for her. As for Kotoko, reality slaps her in the face again here, despite minor triumphs like winning over Naoki’s family. Naoki is correct in that Kotoko works best when she isn’t coddled or sympathized with. What’s impressive here is that she realizes it as well. She really may be finally growing up. –Sean Gaffney

Itazura Na Kiss, Vol. 8 | By Kaoru Tada | Digital Manga Publishing – And if the last book showed us Kotoko, if not getting smarter, then at least learning her strengths and limitations, this volume is for Naoki. No, he’s not really all that nicer, but he is at last realizing that he can’t simply expect declarations of love to be entirely one-sided on his wife’s part. Naoki simply doesn’t do emotions – except around Kotoko, who has taught him the joys of frustration, anger, exasperation… and love, reluctant as he still is to admit it. He admits this publicly for one reason – a serious threat to his marriage arrives, and starts pointing out all of his worst flaws. Keita is not particularly in danger of stealing Kotoko – she’s not all that interested. But Naoki here not only admits that he needs Kotoko to be more human – and to be more loving. Which is why the final part of the book is the two of them skipping their anniversary party and sharing a drink and a kiss on a quiet bench. –Sean Gaffney

Kamisama Kiss, Vol. 8 | By Julietta Suzuki | VIZ Media – The annual kami conference is underway, and Nanami has been assigned the special task of sealing the entrance to the land of the dead, which is always besieged by yokai when its guardian kami is away. Unfortunately, she and a mysterious human named Kirihito end up trapped on the other side. So basically, this is yet another “Tomoe to the rescue” scenario. True, Nanami exhibits some bona fide powers as she works to free herself and Kirihito, but ultimately it’s Tomoe who must save her. One nice side effect is that Tomoe seems to realize his feelings for Nanami at long last and some secrets concerning his past—that even he is unaware of—are touched upon. I continue to enjoy Kamisama Kiss, but it must be said that this particular volume was not particularly riveting. – Michelle Smith

Magic Knight Rayearth 2 | By CLAMP | Dark Horse Comics – Needless to say, although it had a great ending, it cannot be denied that the way the last Rayearth manga ended was a bit… well, depressing. So let’s have a sequel where we bring our heroines back and have them save the world again! This omnibus has more flaws than the first – too many characters and a messy and confusing plotline. That said, it explores the idea of what would happen to a world which is collapsing after the woman keeping it idyllic is killed quite well. And it is nice seeing the cute couples that barely had time to be suggested in the first series having a bit more time to develop now – aged-up Ascot is adorable, and I love Caldina and Lafarga too… (Sorry, Rafaga. Damn romanizations.) And of course there’s Hikaru, Lantis and Eagle, which is about as close as one can get to a canonical threesome without a wedding. Not as essential as the first, but still fun. –Sean Gaffney

Psyren, Vol. 4 | By Toshiaki Iwashiro | VIZ Media – The plot of Psyren is moving right along. Oh, sure, there’s the obligatory shounen stuff wherein the heroes are determined to get stronger and the main character must gain control of his tremendous yet potentially destructive power, but we also get more information about how the world of Psyren came to be and how far ahead it is from the present for our characters. Each volume of Psyren is a lot of fun, though I’m beginning to suspect that I would enjoy it even more if I had a lovely stack to consume at once—each time I finish a volume, I wonder when the next will be coming out, which is a pretty big compliment. If you’re weary or wary of certain shounen clichés, Psyren might be different enough to satisfy. As an added bonus, at sixteen volumes, it’s considerably shorter than many titles in this demographic. – Michelle Smith

Voltron Force: Shelter from the Storm, Vol. 1 | Story by Brian Smith, Art by Jacob Chabot | VIZ Media – Back in the 1980s — the golden age of cruddy cartoons with merchandising tie-ins — Voltron: Defender of the Universe introduced a generation of American kids to mecha. Nickelodeon revived the series last year, giving it a fresh look and new cast of cadets. In keeping with the spirit of the original, the new Voltron has inspired its fair share of spin-off products, including a series of original graphic novels published by VIZ. When contrasted with similar comics — especially the original Ben 10 “manga” — Voltron Force: Shelter from the Storm is a superior product, with crisp artwork, sophisticated storytelling, and teenage characters who sound and act enough like teenagers to pass muster with the comic’s target audience of seven-to-ten-year-old boys. The language is sufficiently challenging for advanced readers but not too overwhelming for kids who have just graduated to chapter books, while the diverse cast of characters ensures that boys and girls alike will find a cast member to identify with. A solid addition to the elementary school classroom library. -Katherine Dacey

Not By Manga Alone: Battle of the bands

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Welcome back to Not By Manga Alone! This month Sean continues his mastery of Kilban’s back catalog with Playboy’s Kilban and Playboy’s New Kilban, while Megan explores the dangers of far north prospecting in Zach Worton’s The Klondike, and the even more terrible dangers of inter-band romance, with Dan Parent and Bill Gavin’s The Archies & Josie and the Pussycats.

The Archies & Josie and the Pussycats | By Dan Parent and Bill Galvan | Archie Comics — Archie Comics has been in the news plenty in the last few years. Between the introduction of Kevin Keller, the line’s first gay character, Archie’s dueling alternate universe marriages to Betty AND Veronica, and his interracial romance (and eventual alternate universe marriage and family) with Valerie of Josie and the Pussycats fame, the once staid publisher has become hot news. Kevin earned the publisher a boycott, and the marriages sparked an epic, cross platform ship war, with shades of class and culture war. Archie and Valerie’s love got some conservative fans tut-tutting but it was generally received well. It’s cute, is the thing.

Archie and Josie kiss.Archie is currently running another of those unit-moving future marriage stories, but this time he marries and begins a family with Valerie. The start of their romance is collected in The Archies & Josie and the Pussycats. The two bands decide to go on tour together, because… because reasons. There are numerous logistical and logical Rubicons to cross here, not least being the status of the two bands: The Archies are a garage band, while the Pussycats can carry a world tour; Archie’s in high school, while Valerie most definitely is not. But aside from the weaselly objections of Alex Cabot, the Pussycats’ money-hungry manager, these issues are glossed over in favour of milkshakes and love songs. And rightfully so, Archie comics having their own particular, family-friendly, romcom logic. If it doesn’t bear up to too close a look, well, it isn’t meant to. And so, in due course–a handful of pages–Valerie and Archie find themselves falling in love.

The romance is rushed. I found myself wondering why Archie, why Valerie, but as with any Archie comic, a certain amount of suspended disbelief is a requisite. It pays to just go with it. The resulting shenanigans–scheming Cabot siblings, a thwarted Veronica–are worth it. Despite the mysterious genesis of their relationship–they write a love song together, and then they fall in love–and a first half that drags, once things get going, they’re adorable.

Writing for comics franchises takes a different skill set than does writing original comics, and Dan Parent and Bill Galvan are old hands. Galvan’s Riverdale is as timeless as ever, with the usual small updates for contemporary sensibilities. And Dan Parent powers through the narrative with admirable brevity. Light, earnest and slightly ridiculous, The Archies & Josie and the Pussycats is pure fun. — Megan Purdy

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The Klondike | By Zach Worton | Drawn and Quarterly — I’ve been meaning to read The Klondike for awhile. I picked it up on a weekend trip to Montreal and it’s been staring at me ever since. The prospect of seeing Zach Worton this weekend at TCAF spurred me on–and I’m so glad I finally cracked the cover, because aside from a few issues, the book is fantastic. The Klondike is historical fiction. Worton tells the story of the Alaskan/Yukon gold rush through a combination of real historical, and fictional characters, and it’s a wise choice that lets him create charming amalgams like Sid the Barber and John the Russian. Characters who have brief, vivid lives in the narrative, but speak to a whole cast of real characters–the thousands of prospectors, some experienced, some naive greenhorns, who came in search of their fortunes. Too many ended their lives in misery, and Worton doesn’t shrug away from that. The harsh conditions of the North are detailed here: the killing weather, isolation, persistently threatened health, and humanity itself are all dangers Worton’s characters have to navigate. Few of them make it through, and fewer strike it rich. Klondike cover

Worton tells the story in segments, shorter stories often centered on interesting historical episodes, interposed with fascinating explanatory notes. The whole is a skillfully woven epic in miniature. The Klondike isn’t just Joe (Dawson City founder and mayor) Ladue’s story, or Sam Steele’s story, it’s a wonderful exploration of the lives of these prospectors and the economy and society that quickly rose up around them. Although it starts out episodic, The Klondike quickly shifts into competing story arcs about the prospectors, cops, criminals, and tough men and women of the North. Worton says that he didn’t want to write an adventure, and The Klondike rolls over that potential story with an avalanche of everyday struggle, misery and small triumphs, but there’s still plenty of action in this book.

Klondike landscapesLike Osamu Tezuka and Bryan Lee O’Malley, Worton contrasts toony figures, with more realistic and beautiful, detailed backgrounds. The characters are made accessible, easy to read, while the landscape of the Klondike is revealed to us with loving attention. It’s probably not a deliberate, story-telling choice, but Worton’s expressive, simply rendered characters have very detailed, over-sized hands. This draws attention to what they’re doing–working, drinking, striking deals–and lends a certain weather-beaten roughness to even the most polished characters.

My chief complaint about an otherwise great book, is that the dialogue is often stilted, and sometimes reads as though it’s adapted from letters, or historical accounts. Later in the narrative, characters pick up individual verbal tics, which goes a long way toward establishing and maintaining a sense of naturalism in speech that’s sorely needed. Early on, conversations read too much like a script without actors; interesting, but stiff and too mannered. Once Worton finds his rhythm–or his characters do–and the various plots pick up, The Klondike is an easy, quick, read that’s informative and at times genuinely moving. — Megan Purdy

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Playboy’s Kliban and Playboy’s New Kliban | By B. Kliban | Wideview Books — Let’s face it, an artist has to earn a living. And B. Kliban has been drawing cartoons since 1965. The Cat book didn’t really take off till the mid to late 1970s, meaning most of his work depended on his main publisher, and that was Playboy Magazine. We’ve seen several cartoons by Kliban, notably in Whack Your Porcupine, that were sexually explicit, but they were still completely bizarre and Kliban-ey. It’s not until we look at these two collections of cartoons he drew explicitly for Playboy over the years that we realize just how much of the previous four books was his sketchbook of unsellable ideas. You will not find grotesque caricatures here – most of the people look fairly normal, and the girls of course all look attractive. This is not weird Kliban, or offbeat Kliban. Or clean Kliban. It is, thank goodness, still funny Kliban.

These books are mostly cartoons from the late 60s and early 70s, and it shows – even if they weren’t meant for Playboy, there’s still a certain aura to them. These cartoons are for the adult male – not just because 80% of them feature sexual content (though there are quite a few here that are ‘normal’), but because they have a certain male viewpoint to them. There’s little to no non-consensual sex here – Playboy cartoons tend to show men and women having tons of fun – but there’s still a certain sexist sensibility I never really got in the prior Kliban collections. Let’s face it, he’s drawing for his audience.

These are such a contrast to his other books, in that they’re mainstream. This doesn’t mean bad – I laughed many times throughout both books – but work like this is what paid the bills, while his Workman Publishing books are what fueled his creative mind. If you can find these, and are over 18, grab a copy – but they aren’t essential, as his other works are. — Sean Gaffney

Fallen Words

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By Yoshihiro Tatsumi. Released in North America by Drawn and Quarterly.

Sometimes you don’t need deep, significant plots. You don’t need characters that go on an incredibly journey that lets them grow up and learn about life. And you may not need 65 volumes to tell your story. Sometimes all you need to do is be interesting, to have an anecdote to tell and to enthrall the listener with that anecdote. And if it ends on a funny note, well, so much the better. The art of rakugo is beloved in Japan. It’s basically storytelling, but has an element of stand up comedy to it (while, of course, being nothing like stand up at all). The stories usually involve dialogues, all conveyed through changes in tone and pitch. And now we have legendary mangaka Yoshihiro Tatsumi giving us some rakugo in manga form.

There are eight stories here, all about 30-50 pages in length, and almost all being fairly comedic and lighthearted. Even the darkest of the bunch, which involves a down-on-his-luck man who befriends The Grim Reaper (seen on the cover here) is still fairly humorous until its dark conclusion. Since Tatsumi cannot aurally convey what the world of the Rakugo is like, he simply has to do it by drawing us into the stories. And it works beautifully, as I found it very hard to pull myself away, even when I was reading about yet another get-rich-quick scheme (a common theme of these stories is the lack of money).

While I said the stories weren’t stand-up, they are of course devoted to telling a funny story. I was reminded a bit of the longer and less humor-oriented parts of Henry Rollins’ old spoken word albums, where he described photo shoots in Australia and crappy jobs euthanizing animals. The other thing these stories reminded me of, especially since some of them *do* end with a punchline that makes you groan rather than laugh, is the shaggy dog story. Not in as much as you feel that you just wasted 15-20 minutes of your life (which is what the best shaggy dog stories offer to the listener), but that feeling that the journey was more important than the destination. In a story about a courtesan and her clients, all of whom sit alone and rail at the poor beleaguered assistant, the final joke is sort of a quick “the end’ gag. What’s fun is the entire story itself, watching these puffed-up and self-deluded middle-aged men ranting and raving because they aren’t getting any.

My favorite story, in terms of combining all the elements I mentioned above, was the third in the book, Escape of the Sparrows. Featuring a prologue that is seemingly irrelevant to the rest of the tale, this them spins off into another ‘deadbeat guest’ story, but becomes far more fantastical. As the pace quickens and the stakes increase, the story also takes on a fantasy element, and even manages to have some beauty. And then… there’s the last page, which features a horrible, horrible joke that wraps up everything the entire story did in a neat bow. You will groan, but feel like applauding.

Such is the nature of the craft of rakugo. Tatsumi says in his afterword that the performers would retire if they didn’t feel they could convey the different moods anymore. I don’t think Tatsumi has anything to worry about here, though. This is not only a great collection of humorous short stories, but a storybook, the kind that you feel like reading aloud to people after you’ve finished it. Perhaps someone will read these and become a rakugo (or its Western equivalent) of his own!

Manga the Week of 5/9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Subtitles & Sensibility: Sequel time with Death Note & Gantz

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

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

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

As for particulars of the films themselves….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GTO: The Early Years, Vol. 12

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By Toru Fujisawa. Released in Japan as “Shonan Jun’ai Gumi” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Vertical.

Volume 11 of this manga was fortuitously focused on Onizuka. I say fortuitously because when you’re reintroducing a series via a different publisher that didn’t sell well in the first place, it’s always best to drum up sales by featuring the one character people absolutely love. This next volume, however, reminds you that GTO: The Early Years didn’t just star Onizuka, but his best friend Ryuji Danma, and he gets most of the focus here.

This is not to say there isn’t also plenty of Onizuka. He gets most of the first half, actually, as we resolve the Joey storyline from the previous volume. As you might guess form a delinquent story set in Shonen Magazine, this is not done through graphic violence and killings, but via a motorcycle race. Joey is on one of the best bikes around, Onizuka is on a legendary old bike whose best days are behind it. Guess who wins. It’s notable that, while we all know Onizuka as a cool character who is constantly allowed to be a giant comedic goof, he also works well in the opposite direction: Onizuka is a goofy, horndog teen who can nevertheless back up his boasts with feats of utter badassery. And of course teaching valuable lessons, which he does with Joey here.

Meanwhile, Onizuka gets to cool moments, but Ryuji gets the emotional turmoil. (Not a surprise: Ryuji has always been vaguely more mature than his best friend. Note I said vaguely.) First of all, he’s dealing with his former teacher and first love appearing back in his life again, right when he’s trying to settle down with Nagisa. Secondly, there’s the ongoing issues with Joey, and his girlfriend being used as “bait” to draw out the two leaders. But both of these pale next to the end of his “castle” and idyllic trailer park life, as the cops arrive to destroy everything, and Nagisa’s parents arrive to take their runaway daughter back home. Ryuji, of course, is forbidden to see her.

There’s a lot of teen angst here, which I can’t help but see from a slightly older perspective. For all that Ryuji and Nagisa were living in their happy fantasy, a bus in the middle of a field, with no real prospects for the future is not something to cling to. I think Nagisa gets that more than the others. While Onizuka and Shinomi are wondering why they can’t be left alone, Nagisa’s the one noting that no matter where they run, adults (and by extension reality) will still exist. They can’t face life as a loving couple on teenage terms. Growing up has to be done. And for the moment, that means dealing with her being under house arrest and having to communicate via written messages.

There is still, lest this all sound like a bummer, plenty of humor – this is an Onizuka manga, after all. The catfight between Shinomi and Saya over Onizuka is ridiculous and hilarious, as is the chapter where Nagisa reveals she might be pregnant, and everyone goes completely out of control. (Spoiler: she isn’t.) Best of all, though, is Onizuka accidentally ending up in the middle of a yakuza job, and finding the horrifying things you would expect – all played for comedy, of course. All in all, the series continues to give us what Fujiwara does best: lots of fighting, lots of goofy faces, a few heartwarming/heartbreaking moments, and lots of a future Great Teacher.

Negima! Magister Negi Magi, Vol. 34

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By Ken Akamatsu. Released in Japan as “Mahou Sensei Negima!” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics.

Since I wrote my last Negima review, the series has ended in Japan, and I’d love to talk about the fan reaction to it, but will have to wait till the ending comes out here a year from now. Till then, I will be content with talking about Vol. 34, which is pure balls-to-the-wall action, and gives lots of the ‘second-tier’ girls a chance to show off and be the hero. Perhaps that’s why this cover art is notable for not having Negi in it.

Let me start with Natsumi. Negima has featured a lot of shy, “normal” girls in its cast, but along the way any pretense of normality has totally vanished, with Nodoka and Yue commonly pulling off amazing feats. Natsumi, though, is the genuine article – even her artifact is a tribute to how she doesn’t stand out. Now that artifact is the one thing that might allow the cast to pull off Asuna’s rescue, which means it’s all depending on her. And she’s TERRIFIED. The way Akamatsu draws her emotions in this volume is really amazing – it’s taking every bit of willpower she has not to run away screaming. Then of course she gets to watch the cast, including the boy she’s fallen in love with, get taken down one by one. It’s no wonder she’s petrified by the cliffhanger. Keep going, Natsumi!

Where, you ask, is Negi in all this? Well, Negi is busy finding that while it’s all very well to embrace dark magic and say he’ll rely on his friends to break him out of any evil he might do, that in practice he’s still a 10-year-old boy easily controlled by his emotions. So, when he almost kills Shiori, he goes into an emotional coma. Even Chisame slapping him (which she does, AGAIN, to get him to calm down, even after he wounds her) doesn’t help. Luckily, Negi gets the traditional ‘visited by your dead family and friends’ coma flashback towards the end, and even though most of them aren’t actually dead, it’s enough to revive his spirits. Come on, he’s the hero.

The battle to rescue Asuna is pretty damn awesome, all the more so as they’re doing it without Negi. There’s several noble sacrifices, including Yuna and Sayo (petrified) and Kaede and Kotaro (beaten down), but they manage to grab the key *and* Asuna. (By the way, Natsumi, you fail as plucky girl compared to Makie. Makie just needed a pep talk, Natsumi had to be slapped and dragged away. Another reason she’s still the ‘normal’ one.) And then… oh dear. You’d think Fate’s real name, Tertium, might have clued us in, but the arrival of FOUR OTHER Fates really is absolutely no fair. The ease with which they dispatch everyone is actually rather unnerving – in particular, seeing Chachamaru blown in half is really horrible – and everything they gained since the start is seemingly lost.

Except, of course, Fate is not just one of many generic villains anymore, and he does not take too kindly to these last minute bosses stepping in and ruining his fun. Yes, in the end, Fate is much like Kotaro was 20-odd volumes ago, another young boy who simply wants to fight Negi to see who is more powerful. And if that means getting rid of the other clones who will stop that? So be it. The cliffhanger to this volume is well-paced, and it really makes you want to get to Vol. 35 as soon as possible. When, rest assured, we should begin the final Negi vs. Fate showdown.

Off the Shelf: BL GL Bookrack

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MJ: Welcome back to Off the Shelf! We’re doing something a bit different with the column this week. Usually, somewhere around this time, we’d be preparing our monthly BL Bookrack column, featuring reviews of a handful of new BL titles. This month, we decide to switch things up a bit, and take on a few Yuri titles—sort of a “GL Bookrack” if you will—inspired by the growing number of Yuri titles becoming available digitally from JManga. But as we talked more about it, we realized we both wanted to read all three of the titles currently available.

So, in the end, we bring you BL GL Bookrack, Off the Shelf style!

Michelle, would you like to introduce our first title?

MICHELLE: Hmm… where to start? I suppose the simplest title can go first, and that would have to be Hayako Goto’s Poor Poor Lips.

Told in a four-panel format, Poor Poor Lips is a comedy about Okashi Nako (whose name is a pun meaning “strange girl”), a deeply impoverished 21-year-old who answers an advertisement for a sales job at a store selling power stones. The manager, Otsuka Ren, is the daughter of a rich family who promptly tells all the applicants that she is a lesbian. When most of them flee, Nako is hired on the spot with the reassurance, “You’re DEFINITELY not my type, so don’t worry.”

Most of the manga involves gags about Nako’s extreme poverty—she eats a lot of bread crusts—and Ren’s growing fondness for her, coupled with her impulse to give Nako everything she lacks, which she is trying not to do because previous relationships have been spoiled by excess generosity. Ren also gets really jealous of Nako’s old classmate, pastry chef Furui, and does various silly things to get him to go away/keep tabs on him, including placing spy cameras in his shop.

All in all, I have to say that I didn’t find this funny at all. That’s not to say that it isn’t pleasant, but none of the gags struck me as funny. I kept thinking, “I wonder what this would be like if Nako was actually depicted as a scruffy young woman instead of looking like an eight-year-old.” I bet I would’ve liked it more then. Ultimately, I didn’t really feel much inclined to read the other two volumes available on JManga, figuring they’d simply be more of the same.

How about you?

MJ: I’d say my reaction was significantly different, at least once I’d gotten a ways into the story. What you describe is pretty much how I felt over the course of the first few chapters, but as the volume continued, I have to say it really grew on me. I began to like both of the main characters quite a bit, and I did actually find a lot of it to be quite funny, particularly the running (false) rivalry between Ren and Furui (whose family’s bakery “Furui Cake” could also be read as “old cake”).

Things like the over-the-top spying and even Nako’s young/cute appearance read as humorous to me, which I largely chalk up to its being a 4-koma. I think I would have found most of it unappealing as a regular story manga, but in comic strip format, it really worked for me.

MICHELLE: I was still envisioning it as 4-koma, but with an older-looking Nako. But, yeah, maybe a lot of over-the-top silliness wouldn’t be possible if she looked too realistic.

I will say that I think the story has surprising depth in terms of Ren’s conflicting impulses. She honestly doesn’t know how to make someone happy other than by bestowing money and gifts upon them, and it’s hard for her not to coddle someone or something she likes. Goto exemplifies this rather neatly in a few panels about a stray kitten Nako takes in, and Ren’s sad past with an overfed baby bird.

I guess I should clarify that me not finding something funny doesn’t mean I don’t think it’s worthwhile or, as I called it, “pleasant.” It is at least not outright unfunny.

MJ: I’ll point out, too, that this is one of the better localization efforts I’ve seen from JManga. It read really smoothly, the translation notes were genuinely helpful, and the fact that I found it funny at all says a lot. I think 4-koma is very difficult to bring across effectively in English.

MICHELLE: Definitely. I think I saw all of one typo. There are a few print publishers who wish they could make that claim!

So, how about you introduce the second title?

MJ: Sure! Let’s take a fairly drastic turn and look at the other single volume we each read, Ebine Yamaji’s Love My Life, originally serialized in josei magazine Feel Young, home of familiar titles like Bunny Drop (Yen Press), Happy Mania (Tokyopop), and Blue (Fanfare/Ponent Mon).

Love My Life tells the story of a young woman named Ichiko who, upon coming out to her father, discovers that he also is gay, as was her mother (who died when Ichiko was quite young). What’s especially interesting about this, is that though the story certainly centers around the relationship between Ichiko and her girlfriend, Ellie, that’s not the only thing Ichiko is dealing with by far. She’s also having to come to terms with the fact that her parents’ relationship wasn’t what she thought, and that even now, her father has been living a life completely separate from the one he has with her. And since we meet Ichiko after her relationship with Ellie has already been going on for some time, it’s neither a coming-out story nor a typical romance.

Ichiko meets her father’s boyfriend (who wants very little to do with her), helps Ellie survive her strained relationship with her own father, struggles with feelings of loneliness while Ellie studies for the bar exam, and poses as her gay (male) best friend’s girlfriend to help shield him from having to deal with his sexuality at school. It’s more of a slice-of-life manga than anything else, but emotionally resonant in a way I tend to expect from serious drama or well-written romance.

I have to say that this was probably my favorite of all the Yuri we read this week, mainly because it was by far the most relatable and true-to-life. I like genre romance a lot, but this contained some of the best aspects of romance manga (including a good amount of sexual content) without having to rely on fantasy at all, which I’ll admit is pretty refreshing. It’s also added to my yearning to see more josei in English, Yuri or otherwise.

MICHELLE: Yes, this was my favorite, as well. As you say, it’s neither a coming-out story nor a typical romance. To me, it reads simply as a growing-up story with a focus on being true to yourself. Ichiko comes out to her father, but learns a truth in return that flips her world on end. It’s a hard thing to learn that something you’d believed in was never real, and that your parents are individuals with thoughts, desires, and lives that may have nothing to do with you. As hard as that is to process, though, she achieves a better understanding of her father as a result, including the realization of how understanding he is.

And then there’s Ellie, who has been fueled by the desire to compete with her father and brother. It’s not that she particularly wants to be a lawyer, but wants to prove, “I can catch up to you. And be on equal footing with you.” Ichiko instinctively feels that this is wrong, but must learn not to meddle and let Ellie have her own journey, come to her own realizations.

I liked that there’s not a certain “happy ever after” feeling to Love My Life. Ichiko and Ellie may not last as a couple. But one definitely gets the sense that, even if that were to happen, they would still be okay.

MJ: That was all so eloquently put, Michelle! I’m not sure I could add anything of substance to what you just said. Yes. Exactly. You’re so right-on.

As I attempt to muster some kind of intelligence again, do you want to talk about our third selection?

MICHELLE: Thank you! And sure!

Our last title is Milk Morinaga’s Girl Friends, which is available on JManga in its five-volume entirety (and which will be coming to print courtesy of Seven Seas later this year). This seinen series was serialized in Futabasha’s Comic High! and takes place at an all-girls high school.

Mariko (Mari) Kumakura is somewhat shy and reserved, but accepts an invitation from a more outgoing classmate, Akiko (Akko) Oohashi, to take the train home together. This leads to Akko encouraging Mari to get a haircut, educating her about fashion, and introducing her to some friends, including glamorous Sugi and cosplay addict Tamamin. All of this helps Mari gain confidence and some independence, and as she and Akko get closer, she starts to realize that she not only doesn’t want their friendship to fade, but wants to be more than friends.

Various misunderstandings ensue. Mari despairs that hers is “a love that can never come true,” and decides to date a former classmate in an attempt to move on and be happy that she gets to be Akko’s friend. At one point she kisses Akko, but is later evasive and embarrassed and eventually plays it off as a joke. But soon, Akko is feeling jealous of the time that Mari spends with her boyfriend, and realizes that she too wants to be more than friends. Now if only she can convince Mari that she really means it, or has that ship already sailed?

Sorry, lapsed into a bit of “back cover blurb” style, there!

MJ: Well done! In some ways, the “back cover blurb” summary is very much the point. Girlfriends falls into what Erica Friedman refers to as “Story A” for the genre, which isn’t an inherently negative description, by any means, but it is an indication that this is going to be a formula romance on a basic level. It’s a very enjoyable formula romance, in my opinion, but it’s unquestionably romantic fantasy. I’d even say it’s unquestionably romantic fantasy for men, given the particular types of fanservice we see throughout, but even that isn’t really a negative. It’s just a point of fact.

As I’ve said, I absolutely enjoy genre romance, and that’s what Girlfriends is. It’s got all the sweetness and anticipation of most any high school romance you’d find in a typical shoujo magazine, and there’s nothing wrong with that at all. It’s adorable. And if the way things work out so neatly and sweetly (after getting through a few typical hurdles) feels unbelievable, that’s part of what makes it fantasy.

MICHELLE: I concur. Reading it, though, I was struck by how little yuri I have really actually read. While I knew it was all going according to formula, reading about a burgeoning relationship between two girls still felt pretty new to me.

I’m glad you brought up the fanservice, because I definitely wanted to talk about that. First off, I should mention that it’s much less than I had anticipated, knowing that this series ran in a seinen magazine. There are a few superfluous bikinis, a few crotch shots, some boobies… but that’s about the extent of it. In contrast, Love My Life has much more sexual content, but because it feels more natural to the story (with no zooming in to specific body parts) it doesn’t come off as fanservice at all.

MJ: Yeah, I would never describe the sexual content in Love My Life as “fanservice” and looking at these two titles together really highlights the difference there. But as you say, the service in Girlfriends is definitely restrained. It almost feels like little more than a shift in perspective from shoujo romance, in which the girls are usually drawn just as prettily, short skirts and all, just not by way of the male gaze.

I, too, have read relatively little yuri, but I’m very glad to see more of it becoming available in English, including romantic fantasies like Girlfriends. I’m a big fan of romance, and I’ve pretty much discovered over the years that my tastes in that genre depend very little on the genders of the characters, outside of the fact that it offers more variety in the genre, and variety is always a good thing. Possibly that makes me pretty shallow, but really, I just like a good romance.

MICHELLE: Same here! So thanks, JManga, and more of the same, please!

Manga the Week of 5/2

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

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

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

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

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

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

So what appeals to you this week?

The Best Manga You’re Not Reading: I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow

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I’m not a big fan of squirm-inducing comedies like The Office; it’s hard to root for a loser who makes everyone uncomfortable with his general lack of self-awareness and humility. Yet The Office was undeniably compelling, even if it was sometimes hard to watch. The genius was in Ricky Gervais’ performance: he embodied a type that we’ve all encountered in our working lives, someone who felt small but used his job to make himself seem bigger or more important than he really was. Gervais never tried to make his character appealing in his vulnerability, and in so doing, forced the audience to confront the fundamental falseness of the lovable loser stereotype; we may feel better about ourselves for identifying with a decent underdog, but we probably have more in common with David Brent than we’d care to admit.

I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow, an unsparing farce about a forty-year-old father who quits his job to become a manga artist, inspires a similar mixture of love and squick. Shunjo Aono makes no effort to endear his protagonist to readers; Shizuo is a loser with big dreams but terrible follow-through. Like many daydreamers, Shizuo failed to realize that his fantasy job would be just as grueling as the one he quit, a revelation that sends him into a tailspin of binge drinking, prostitution, and video gaming. The first volume’s blunt, unsparing tone yields some squirm-inducing moments that are just a little too truthful to be funny, such as when Shizuo bumps into his eighteen-year-old daughter at a love hotel or parties with younger colleagues.

As the story progress, however, Shizuo spends less time pretending to be twenty and more time writing stories. Volume two opens with a scene of Shizuo pitching an ill-advised story Murakami, the one editor at EKKE magazine who can tolerate Shizuo. Following the dictum of “write what you know,” Shizuo has penned “The History of Me,” an autobiographical comic depicting Shizuo’s ongoing struggle to find his true gift, the thing that, in his own words, makes him “different from other people.” It’s an exquisitely uncomfortable scene, as Murakami must endure Shizuo’s pompous editorializing, making it almost inevitable that Shizuo’s work will be rejected swiftly. Worse still, Shizuo’s journey of self-discovery is anything but; he’s failed at everything he’s tried — street tough, folk singer, salary man — yet hasn’t abandoned the delusion that he’s “too big” for the “little” opportunities he’s been given thus far.

In subsequent volumes, Shizuo’s progress remains fitful, impeded by his ego and his inexperience. When he does have an epiphany, it’s usually because he’s failed spectacularly and must rationalize the choices he’s made. In volume four, for example, Shizuo is assigned to a new editor, Aya Unami. After reading his latest excruciatingly autobiographical manuscript, “Live to 300,” she promptly tells him, “I think you need to know when to give up.” Oguro is initially stunned, but soon realizes that Aya might be the only person with the vision and honesty to help him improve. Whether she’s willing to coach him, and whether he can accept her guidance, however, are a different story; it’s hard to imagine Aono treating this moment as a major breakthrough in Shizuo’s journey from amateur to professional, the first meeting between a gifted natural and the coach who will lead him to stardom.

The artwork mirrors Shizuo’s skill level and emotional maturity: the lines are thick and imperfect, the shapes are basic, and the characters’ bodies are awkwardly proportioned. Shizuo has an enormous, round head that seems ill-suited for his body, and tiny eyes that remind us just how myopic he is in every aspect of his life. (See “bumping into teenage daughter at a love motel,” above.) In a particularly skillful touch, Shizuo’s own drawing mirrors that of Aono’s, only executed with less command of line and form — a subtle reminder that the prevailing aesthetic of both stories is meant to reflect how Shizuo sees the world, not an artistic failing on Aono’s part.

I’m probably making I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow sound like a colossal downer; after all, it’s hard to laugh at a character who seems so pitiful. Yet for all Shizuo’s self-aggrandizement, there’s something honest about his efforts, and that’s what makes this squirm-inducing comedy readable. We may do our best to be responsible — to hold good-paying jobs, pay our mortgages, and raise our children to be good students and citizens — but for many of us, a soft, nagging voice asks, “Is that all there is?” Shizuo’s decision to act on that doubt isn’t wise or noble, but it’s testament to a deeply human need: to create meaning out of our experiences, and to find proof that our lives are intrinsically interesting to other people. Recommended, though you may want a stiff drink afterwards.

This is an expanded version of reviews that previously appeared at The Manga Critic on 8/20/09, 11/08/10, and 11/28/11.