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Manga Artifacts: Memories

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Given the speed with which DC Comics shuttered CMX Manga last year, it’s easy to forget that both DC and Marvel actually wanted to publish manga back in the day. Marvel’s manga output paled in comparison with DC’s, but is notable nonetheless, as Marvel helped introduce American readers to one the most influential manga-ka of the last thirty years: Katsuhiro Otomo. Like Dark Horse, Eclipse Comics, and other companies who dabbled in manga publishing in the 1980s and 1990s, Marvel licensed work that it believed would appeal to the direct market. Marvel’s first acquisition was Katsuhiro Otomo’s dystopian epic AKIRA. Between 1988 and 1995, Marvel published the story in thirty-eight issues, each colorized and flipped in a calculated bid to woo American sci-fi fans. Though Marvel never finished collecting the original issues into bound editions, AKIRA proved important nonetheless, offering many American readers their first exposure to Japanese comics.

Marvel licensed work from other countries as well — including Airtight Garage and Blueberry, both by French artist Moebius — but never developed a substantial manga catalog; aside from AKIRA, the only manga it published were two short, stand-alone stories from early in Otomo’s career: “Memories” and “Farewell to Weapons.” “Memories” was issued in two forms: the first, in 1992, was a standard, thirty-two-page pamphlet with flipped, colorized artwork. The second, in 1995, was only released in the UK; Mandarin Books re-printed “Memories” and “Farewell to Weapons” as part of a longer anthology of Otomo’s short stories. (That anthology is called Memories and is out-of print; the ISBN is 0749396873.)

Plot-wise, “Memories” is simple but effective: a three-man salvage crew accepts a job clearing the “Sargasso Sea,” a debris field in deep space. They begin receiving a mysterious transmission from a large, rose-shaped ship inside the field, and decide to investigate. Once aboard, the crew makes an astonishing discovery: the interior resembles an English manor house with a formal dining room, an immense library, and a mysterious hallway guarded by robot sentries. As the men begin searching the ship for clues to the owner’s identity, a constellation of forces — including a fierce magnetic storm — threaten to compromise their mission.

It’s a tried-and-true sci-fi plot that’s enlivened by the efficiency of the set-up and the specificity of the art. Otomo wastes few pages establishing the crew members’ personalities and reasons for accepting the assignment. Though he teases the reader with hints about what awaits the men aboard the ghost ship, Otomo doesn’t belabor the introduction, swiftly transferring the action from the salvage vessel to the “magnetic rose.” The contrast between the ships is arresting; the Disposer is cramped, with plain steel walls and banks of computers, while the ghost ship is opulent and cavernous, festooned in elk heads, gilt-framed oil paintings, mirrors, and the kind of expensive bric-a-brac one might expect to find at Thornfield or Chesney Wold.

Normally, I’m a purist about black-and-white imagery, but Steve Oliff’s expert coloring brings clarity and emotion to the work that might otherwise be absent. Many of Otomo’s finer details — the pattern in an elaborate rug, for example, or the grain in a wood panel — pop with the judicious use of color, giving the ghost ship’s interior a more palpable feel. The use of rich reds, purples, and golds colors further reinforces strangeness of the environment; we, too, want to know why this lavish ship is adrift inside a cloud of metal, glass, and machine parts. Most importantly, however, Oliff uses color to underscore the characters’ emotional state, using an intense, disturbing green backdrop in the final pages of the story to suggest their growing state of panic as they discover the ship’s true purpose.

Readers curious about “Memories” won’t have any difficulty scaring up inexpensive copies on eBay; I paid less than a dollar for a bagged and boarded one in great condition. Anime fans may prefer to seek out the big-screen adaptation, which is longer and more detailed than the source material. (More information about the anime can be found here.) In either format, this short story is surprisingly eerie and graceful, proof that even the most familiar plot lines can acquire new power in the hands of an expert storyteller.

Manga Artifacts is a monthly feature exploring older, out-of-print manga published in the 1980s and 1990s. For a fuller description of the series’ purpose, see the inaugural column.

MEMORIES • BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO • EPIC COMICS (MARVEL) • 32 pp. • NO RATING

I Wish I Wrote That!

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Is it really Friday already? Assuming my calendar’s not lying, that means it’s time for new installment of I Wish I Wrote That!, a monthly feature in which I provide links to a articles about comics that I’ve especially envied as a writer.

First off, I’d like to point you to Khursten Santos’ Spotlight on Fumi Yoshinaga at her website, Otaku Champloo. In it, Khursten chronicles Yoshinaga’s career and the evolution of her work, writing from the perspective of both a journalist and a fan.

A quote from Khursten’s introduction to the article:

My journey in writing this spotlight was nothing but enlightening. My rule of thumb is to try to read the artist’s work in sequence and try to see their development as a mangaka, both in art, their themes, their interests, and their stories. Strangely though, I have read Yoshinaga-sensei in various points in my life that when I started to look back, I couldn’t exactly pin-point where she started. When I started asking if she had grown as a writer, in the back of my head, I was thinking… she had always felt mature as a writer.

Khursten’s insights are valuable not only for their personal touch, but for the rich knowledge they reveal. I admire Khursten particularly for her background in manga and her understanding of visual storytelling, both of which are demonstrated in this piece. I wish I had even half her expertise!

There are a couple of pieces I’ve appreciated this month involving Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata’s shounen series Bakuman, namely this thoughtful review by Chris Mautner at the newly-revamped Comics Journal, and this charming look at the third volume by Manga Curmudgeon David Welsh.

Also from The Comics Journal, Ken Parille offers up a detailed discussion of Moto Hagio’s short manga “Bianca,” as published in A Drunken Dream and Other Stories last year by Fantagraphics. Whether or not I agree with all of Parille’s points, I simply love reading his analysis of the piece. It’s one of the most thought-provoking essays on the subject I’ve seen, and it’s made me anxious to re-read the story as well. I wish I wrote that!

Lastly, Manga Critic Kate Dacey held me in her thrall this month with her write-up of Aki Shimizu’s Quan. Filled with scans of the series’ artwork and Kate’s brilliant prose, this article not only made me envy her skill, but also her manga library!

That’s all from me this month! Readers, what do you wish you wrote?

Sing me an Opera

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Last year, Digital Manga released Reversible, an anthology of short boys’-love comics. It was a terrific idea, to provide a sampler of work by relatively unknown talents. Unfortunately, I found the reality of the book to be a bit tepid. The notion of the book has stuck with me, though, so I would like to propose that someone else take a crack at it, using Akaneshinsha’s edgy yaoi anthology Opera as its source.

I don’t have a ton of Japanese-language comics on my groaning bookshelves, but I do have a copy of an issue of Opera, thanks to Christopher (Comics212) Butcher. I can’t read a symbol of it, but I flip through it all of the time, always marveling at the sheer variety of styles it encompasses. There seem to be a range of character types and story tones, from slice-of-life to comedy to heavy drama to period pieces and even some fantasy.

It’s one of the magazines where Natsume Ono’s yaoi (created under the pen name “Basso”) has been published, including Amato Amaro. Looking at the anthology’s roster of titles at Baka-Updates, it seems like there are several one shots that could be included in an Opera sampler. Titles that reach volume length could even be published under some kind of subsequent “Opera presents…” label, but maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. (Of course, getting ahead of one’s self is what license requests are all about.)

I’ve made no secret of my fascination with comics that fall under what Erica (Okazu) Friedman has described as “the fifth genre.” I could be wrong about this, but I get the sense that Opera is very much fifth-genre yaoi, at least in the sense that it doesn’t seem at all concerned with conventional, commercial concerns of its category, taking a more inclusive and experimental approach. And the possibilities of that excite me very much.

I also think it’s smart (and generous) when publishers give you a low-risk taste of what might be considered higher-risk material. I don’t know how much of a market there is for the kind of yaoi Opera publishes, but I’d certainly relish the opportunity to explore it in depth in the form of a licensed, translated sampler. A similar approach seems to be working for Viz with SigIKKI, so maybe Akaneshinsha could partner with someone to try and expand horizons. And the magazine has a blog, so you know they’re at least a little bit down with this whole internet outreach thing.

Five Children and It by E. Nesbit: B+

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From the back cover:
‘It’ is a Psammead, an ancient, ugly and irritable sand fairy the children find one day in a gravel pit. It grants them a wish a day, lasting until sunset. But they soon learn it is very hard to think of really sensible wishes, and each one gets them into unexpected difficulties. Magic, the children find, can be as awkward as it is enticing.

Review:
After reading and really enjoying The Railway Children, I decided that I definitely needed to read more by E. Nesbit. Five Children and It was my first pick, because I’ve been curious about the book for ages. Expect to see more Nebsit after this one!

Five Children and It (1902) actually has some things in common with The Railway Children (1906). It’s obvious from the titles that both feature kids, but more specifically these kids are siblings from the city who are moving into a new house in the country. Both stories are told by a companionable and amusing narrator. In the case of the latter book, the kids meet and help a lot of new people, and a warm, feel-good tone is the result. There is, alas, less of that feeling in Five Children and It, though it’s still an imaginative and entertaining tale.

Cyril, Anthea, Robert, Jane, and “the Lamb” (the nickname for the youngest, a two-year-old boy whose given name is Hilary) have just moved into their new house, and are keen to explore. One day, when their mother has gone off to tend to her ailing mother, their wanderings take them to a nearby gravel pit, where they dig and find a strange creature called a psammead, or sand-fairy. The psammead agrees to grant the children one wish per day, the results of which will disappear at sunset, and the majority of the book is made up of their wishes and the usually unpleasant repercussions thereof.

Nothing ever seems to turn out like they hope. When they wish for money, it comes in a form unrecognizable and unaccepted by local merchants. When they wish for wings, they fail to account for how hungry the exertion of flying will make them, and end up stranded on a rooftop after stealing someone else’s dinner. When they wish they lived in a castle, it’s ill-defended and in the midst of a siege. Each time, they attempt to learn from what went wrong and get the best from their next wish, but by the time their mother returns home they’re quite ready to quit with the wishing altogether. If I had to pick a theme for the book, I’d say it’s “be content with your lot.”

What’s really nice about the story is that the kids aren’t idealized at all. In fact, Nesbit says up front that they can be tiresome, and they’re shown being disagreeable often enough. They’re also, however, shown being clever and level-headed, particularly Anthea, the oldest girl. It takes a while for them to emerge as individual characters, though, and I’m still not really sure how to describe Jane, the youngest girl. This is another aspect in which The Railway Children is the superior book, since each of those characters is memorable and distinct. I do think, though, that Anthea and Railway‘s Roberta would like each other very much. In fact, now I kind of want to read fanfic in which they hang out and are sensible together.

In the end, I definitely enjoyed Five Children and It and look forward to reading its two sequels, but it doesn’t supplant The Railway Children as my favorite Nesbit so far.

3 Things Thursday: White Day, at last!

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Just last month, on the Thursday before Valentine’s Day, I presented virtual chocolate to my manga dream boys, or at least to those who might have been, were I still a schoolgirl in my teens.I promised then that I’d share my dream girls for White Day, and that week has finally come!

So, let’s get right to it, shall we?

3 manga Dream Girls for teen MJ:

1. Nana Osaki | NANA | Ai Yazawa | Viz Media – This one just seems obvious, doesn’t it? Anyone who identifies as strongly with Nana Komatsu as I do is going to be hung up on Nana Osaki. That’s just a given, right? Nana is badass enough to fight for what’s yours, and fragile enough to need your care–just the ticket for a softhearted girl like me. Her ambition is inspirational (or at least catching), and her presence is dazzling. I’d fall under her spell in a heartbeat. If I could only choose one dream girl for my attention on White Day, Nana Osaki would be the one!

2. Yamane | Flower of Life | Fumi Yoshinaga | Digital Manga Publishing – I suppose Yamane’s a strange choice, given that I don’t even know her first name, but anyone who read my recent ‘shipping post shouldn’t be too surprised. I’m definitely the sloppy Sakai in that pair-up, and I’m not ashamed to admit it! Similar to my Valentine’s Day Doumeki pick, I see Yamane as the mature, silent type, only with an extra dollop of politeness that goes a long way with me. She’s both thoughtful and circumspect as a teenager in ways I’ll never achieve in my whole lifetime. And after reading Not Love But Delicious Foods, I have to imagine that Yoshinaga would crush on her the same way I do. Thanks for the dream girl, Fumi!

3. Orihime Inoue | Bleach | Tite Kubo | Viz Media – Though she’s clearly set up to be this series’ ditsy, big-boobed babe (and she is in a way, though “ditsy” is really missing the point), two things draw me to Orihime, her hidden strength and her flights of fancy, particularly the latter. Like Tara in Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and, actually, Willow before season five or so), Orihime is someone whose rich inner life spills out into the “real world” in ways that make every day simply fun, for others as well as herself. Yet under all that gentle whimsy, she’s got a will of pure steel. I’d always wish for an Orihime in my life. Her love for very strange food is a bonus as well!

Even more so than with my Valentine’s Day post, I had difficulty paring this down to just three! Both Fullmetal Alchemist‘s kickass mechanic, Winry, and Paradise Kiss‘s elegant Isabella vied powerfully for spots on the list, and it was painful to have to turn them down. Why didn’t I name this column “30 Things Thursday”?? It’s a good thing I didn’t include anime characters as well. I’d have had to do a whole entry on the title character from Kino’s Journey. And the list just goes on and on.

Response for Valentine’s Day was fantastic, and though I was a bit disappointed by how few men were willing to divulge their crushes, I expect plenty of men and women will come through for me today.

So readers, you’ve waited patiently for a month to tell me about your dream girls. Comment away!

From the stack: Dengeki Daisy vol. 1

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When running through the winners of this year’s About.Com Manga Readers’ Choice Awards, I realized I hadn’t actually reviewed the first volume of Kyousuke Motomi’s Dengeki Daisy (Viz). Since I expressed puzzlement over its win in the shôjo category over two very superior titles, I thought I should go into more detail. To be honest, I can’t muster much. It’s solid enough, but I find it lacking in some essential ways.

It’s about an orphan named Teru whose older brother has died. She finds solace in communication with a mysterious person named “Daisy” who texts her via a cell phone Teru’s brother left her. Teru gets grief from her well-to-do classmates, but she holds her own. She does wind up in service to the school’s weird handyman when she breaks a window, but the handyman, Kurosaki, is concealing a protective streak towards his indentured minion. Could this jerky loner be the mysterious Daisy?

I was surprised at how little mileage Motomi got out of that question, to be honest. She seems more interested in moving into a narrative groove where Teru acts impulsively, gets into trouble, is saved by Daisy, and doesn’t realize that her taskmaster is also her text-message angel. It’s sad that Teru’s spunk only goes so far and that she’s so prone to requiring rescue. It’s also one of my pet peeves when a character withholds knowledge that could empower another and enable them to make better choices but doesn’t.

It’s conceivable that Kurosaki could have a persuasive reason to keep Teru in the dark, but it feels very by-the-numbers by volume’s end. I admit I would find it a tough sell under any circumstances. It’s hard to invest much in the series when the driving relationship is unsatisfying and, in my opinion, badly constructed.

But I’d love to hear from Dengeki Daisy partisans, especially if they feel the problems I have with the series are mitigated in later volumes. What say you?

Off the Shelf: The Lost Hour

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

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

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

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

MICHELLE: Of course!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MJ: Good to know, good to know.

MICHELLE: What else have you got this week?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, what else have you got for us?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MJ: Perhaps! :D

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

MICHELLE: Collapse away!

MJ: ‘Night-‘night. *clunk*

The Josei Alphabet: G

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“G” is for…

Glass no Isu, written and illustrated by Mariko Nakamura, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Be Love, eight volumes. There seems to be a vocational trend with the letter “G.” This one’s about a woman who becomes a great furniture maker and wants to reconnect with her estranged older brother.

Gokusen, written and illustrated by Kozueko Morimoto, originally serialized in Shueisha’s You, 15 volumes plus three specials. A teacher who comes from a Yakuza family tries to help her class of delinquents learn valuable life lessons, though grandpa wants to groom her for mob leadership.

Gold, adapted from Ann Major’s novel, Secret Child, by Kazuko Fujita, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Josei Seven, eight volumes. It’s got characters named Mars, Chantal, and Mischief, and people faking their own deaths. Seriously, if I was trying to keep a low profile, I wouldn’t become a super-model named Mischief.

Gozen 3-ji no Kikenchitai, written and illustrated by Youko Nemu, currently serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, two volumes so far. It’s about a shy and inexperienced woman who goes to work for an office full of freaks who design pachinko parlors. It’s a sequel to Gozen 3-ji no Muhouchitai, which ran for three volumes in Feel Young.

Green, written and illustrated by Tomoko (Nodame Cantabile) Ninomiya, originally published by Kodansha, four volumes. A city girl falls in love with a farmer. Simple as that sounds, I’m sure Ninomiya did a lot of charming things with the concept.

Licensed josei:

  • Gorgeous Carat, written and illustrated by You Higuri, originally serialized in Gentosha’s Web Spica, four volumes, published in English by Tokyopop.

What starts with “G” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

  • Gal Boy! written and illustrated by Mariko Nakamura, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Be Love, 33 volumes.

From the stack: The Zabîme Sisters

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I’m working my way through the top ten books on the 2011 Great Graphic Novels for Teens, one of which is the late Aristophane’s The Zabîme Sisters (First Second). It follows three girls from Guadeloupe through their first day of summer vacation, and it does so with a degree of clarity, honesty, and restraint that’s quite surprising and very refreshing.

Bossy M’Rose wants to watch a fight between the school bully and one of his targets. Attention-hungry Célina wants to hang out with some girlfriends. Timid Ella just seems to want as pleasant and peaceful a day as she can manage. They cross paths with classmates who have their own agendas and concerns. Manuel is trying to figure out what to do about his father’s broken pipe. Euzhan has smuggled some rum out of the house to share with her girlfriends. Some things go well, some go badly, and some just go.

Aristophane’s approach to slice of life is meticulously subdued. His narrative never overpromises, maintaining a steady pace of event but never inflating those moments into more than just moments. It’s a day, not an epic, and there’s comfort and familiarity in the string of anticlimaxes. The pleasure of The Zabîme Sisters is in its simplicity and candor.

Part of that candor comes in the form of sharp little bits of exposition that Aristophane sprinkled throughout the narrative. When Célina joins her family for breakfast, Aristophane offered this narration:

“Célina got up after making them beg her. She took particular pleasure in being pleaded with and in feeling indispensible. When she got this attention first thing in the morning, she felt especially content.”

These bits of omniscience are frank and illuminating, but they’re never intrusive. They add wonderful layers to the events, and they rarely flatter their subjects. Aristophane isn’t mocking his characters, per se, but his assessments are unsparing. But they reveal the emotional complexity of the characters, too, and they add weight and clarity to their actions. It’s a terrifically successful technique, and it lifts the book to a higher level.

The art has the same kind of chunky, inky beauty that I find so appealing in the work of Iou (Sexy Voice and Robo) Kuroda. Just about every panel is absorbing in its own way, with shifting perspectives and an eye-catching haziness. There’s a blend of precision and abstraction that adds interest; you’re always sure of what you’re seeing, but the rendering has enough oddity and expressionism to keep refreshing the way you see it. (Publishers Weekly ran several preview pages from the book.)

I’m actually kind of embarrassed that this book largely escaped my attention before making it onto the top ten list. It’s the kind of thoughtfully inventive work that always excites me, and its unique elements and techniques cohere in really admirable ways.

Other reviews in this intermittent series:

  • Set to Sea, written and illustrated by Drew Weing, Fantagraphics

You can nominate titles for the next Great Graphic Novel for Teen List, and you can take a look at the current batch of contenders.

 

Follow Friday – a little late

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Yesterday was Follow Friday, according to my feature schedule, but I admit I had a hard time mustering the will for such a frivolous post in the aftermath of the earthquake in Japan.

Today, though, I’ve got some recommendations to share that many may find helpful. Here are a few Twitter accounts I’ve found valuable for keeping up on news from Japan.

@YokosoNews, usually devoted to lifestyle and entertainment news, has focused its efforts on relaying news about the catastrophe from the Japanese media to English-speaking readers. Check out their USTREAM for ongoing translation of news broadcasts from the NHK.

@MariKurisato, a regular favorite on my follow list, has been tweeting available news from all the reliable sources she can find pretty continuously over the couple of days

@tokyograph is another source for current news (thanks to Kimberly Saunders @ShroudedDancer for the link).

I’ve also been following tweets from @mangauniversity, @tokyoreporter, and @globalvoices.

So far, I’ve been grateful to hear that all those I personally know in Japan are all safe. I hope the same for all of you.

License request day: Glass Mask

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Looking back on my most recent license requests, I notice an unfortunate trend: none of them run to the outlandish end of the spectrum. It’s all well and good to ask for things that you may actually receive, but it’s also important to pull out the stops from time to time… to ask for something massive, something commercially suspect, something old… something like Suzue Miuchi’s Glass Mask.

This is the sprawling tale of an ambitious, would-be stage actress named Maya Kitajima who responds to her mother’s dismissal and criticism with a burning desire for fame. (As Roxie Hart sagely noted in Chicago, “And that’s because none of us got enough love in our childhood. And that’s showbiz, folks.” Okay, Renée Zellweger’s Roxie may not have said that, but Gwen Verdon’s did, and Verdon’s is the one that matters.) Maya apparently endorses the Method, throwing herself into rehearsals and performances with reckless disregard for her own health.

And she has a rival, Ayumi Himekawa, who takes a more learned approach to acting and thinks she’d be much better in Maya’s dream role, the lead in The Crimson Goddess. And she has a mentor, Chigusa Tsukikage, whose own very promising acting career was prematurely ended by a disfiguring accident. And she has at least one love interest, entertainment entrepreneur Masumi Hayami, who can only reveal his feelings for Maya through gestures as an anonymous fan.

It sounds like the acting version of Kyoko Ariyoshi’s Swan (CMX), and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Both series launched in 1976, with Swan in Shueisha’s Margaret and Glass Mask in Hakusensha’s twice-monthly Hana to Yume. Swan concluded in 1981 with its 21st volume. Glass Mask is still running, though it did move to Hakusensha’s monthly Bessatsu Hana to Yume. The 46th volume of Glass Mask came out in October of 2010. The series has enjoyed to anime adaptations, one of which has been released in North America.

Dauntingly long? Check! (Miuchi indicated in 2009 that the end of the series was near, though.) Vintage, difficult-to-market shôjo style? Double check! (Hakusensha is somewhat skimpy with preview pages, but if you click on the red button with the open-book icon on the third entry down in the right-hand column, you can see a bit of Glass Mask and gape.) Do I want to read it like Maya wants to play the lead in The Crimson Goddess? Triple check!

What ridiculously long, commercially questionable series would you like to see licensed? Or do you just want the chance to read the rest of Swan, From Eroica with Love, and Oishinbo?

 

Wandering Son 1 by Shimura Takako: A

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Book description:
The fifth grade. The threshold to puberty, and the beginning of the end of childhood innocence. Shuichi Nitori and his new friend Yoshino Takatsuki have happy homes, loving families, and are well-liked by their classmates. But they share a secret that further complicates a time of life that is awkward for anyone: Shuichi is a boy who wants to be a girl, and Yoshino is a girl who wants to be a boy. Written and drawn by one of today’s most critically acclaimed creators of manga, Shimura portrays Shuishi and Yoshino’s very private journey with affection, sensitivity, gentle humor, and unmistakable flair and grace. Volume one introduces our two protagonists and the friends and family whose lives intersect with their own. Yoshino is rudely reminded of her sex by immature boys whose budding interest in girls takes clumsily cruel forms. Shuichi’s secret is discovered by Saori, a perceptive and eccentric classmate. And it is Saori who suggests that the fifth graders put on a production of The Rose of Versailles for the farewell ceremony for the sixth graders—with boys playing the roles of women, and girls playing the roles of men.

Wandering Son is a sophisticated work of literary manga translated with rare skill and sensitivity by veteran translator and comics scholar Matt Thorn.

Review:
The main thing I kept thinking about while reading Wandering Son—beyond the continuous undercurrent of general squee—is how things that seem insignificant to one person can be secretly, intensely significant to someone else.

Wandering Son begins simply. Nitori Shuichi (the translation retains Japanese name order) is an extremely shy fifth-grade boy, and as the volume opens, he and his sixth-grade sister, Maho, are preparing for their first day at a new school. Upon arrival, Shuichi is instructed to sit next to Takatsuki Yoshino, a girl so tall and handsome that she’s called Takatsuki-kun by her classmates. They become friends.

One day, when Shuichi goes to Takatsuki’s house to work on some homework, he spies a frilly dress hanging in her room. Perhaps Takatsuki didn’t mean much of anything when she suggested that Shuichi should wear it, but it’s an idea that refuses to leave his head, despite his protests that he isn’t interested. He ends up taking the dress home and giving it to Maho, but its presence in their shared bedroom taunts him.

At this point, Shuichi isn’t thinking about things like gender identity. He’s ten! Instead, he’s dealing with processing the new idea that he could wear a dress and that he might even want to. Slowly, and bolstered by interactions with another encouraging classmate, he begins experimenting. First, he buys a headband. Then he tries dressing as a girl while no one else is home. Finally, when Takatsuki reveals her own treasured possession—her elder brother’s cast-off junior high uniform—he tries going out as a girl in public, with Takatsuki (as a boy) at his side.

One wonders what would’ve happened to Shuichi without Takatsuki to set the example. Would he have become aware of these feelings within himself eventually or been somehow unfulfilled forever? Her comments and her acceptance mean more to him than she knows, as he has a habit of internalizing things that are said to him. After an adorable turn in a female role in a drag version of The Rose of Versailles at school, for example, Maho conversationally notes, “You should have been born a girl.” Again, this is a concept that’s new to Shuichi, but one he gradually comes to believe is true. When his grandmother promises to buy him a present, he visualizes his female form and realizes it’s what he most wants. “Even grandma can’t buy me this.”

I had no problem seeing Takatsuki as a boy throughout, because of her inner certainty and obviously boyish appearance, but Shuichi was more problematic. The moment he confronts the mental vision of what he feels he should be, however, and realizes that he truly wants to be a girl, he starts to become one for the reader. By contrast, it’s shocking when the onset of her first period reminds readers that Takatsuki is biologically female. Though she mostly projects a confident air, her anguish at the undeniable truth that she is not really a boy is intense.

The story is subtle, simple, poignant, and innocent. The tone is matched by Shimura’s uncluttered artwork, which features big panels, little screentone, and extremely minimal backgrounds. These factors combine to make the volume go by quickly, and all too soon it’s over. While waiting for volume two, in which Shuichi and Takatsuki will progress to the sixth grade, I suspect I will have to console myself with the anime adaptation, currently available on Crunchyroll.

The first volume of Wandering Son—published in English by Fantagraphics—will be available in June 2011. The series is still ongoing in Japan, where it is currently up to eleven volumes.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

3 Things Thursday: Down the Aisle

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Today is my tenth wedding anniversary, so I’ve got marriage on the brain. And I was surprised to realize, when I thought about it, just how seldom I encounter weddings or even marriage in the manga I read, despite my heavy leanings towards romance.

Then again, I think it’s only a rare kind of story that wants to delve beyond the early rush of romance and into what happens next. I remember as a child, getting to Laura Ingalls’ wedding in the Little House series, and feeling just as bewildered as she seemed to be, suddenly separated from the place and people she’d lived with all her life until then. The heart-pounding romance that had brought us both to this point had taken a too-realistic turn that neither she nor I was even remotely prepared for. I had a similar feeling when Betsy finally married Joe near the end of Maud Hart Lovelace’s Betsy-Tacy series. As much as Betsy struggled with the reality of domestic life, I struggled with the loss of her romantic adventure.

Still, there are a few manga weddings that spring to mind as I ponder, though not all of them are marriages I personally endorse!

3 manga weddings for MJ’s anniversary:

1. The Moon and the Sandals | Fumi Yoshinaga | Hashizume & Ida

Probably the favorite of my manga marriages is not actually a legal one, at least not in Japan. But when Hashizume turns up with the adoption forms, showing Ida that he really does love him, and has wanted to marry him for long time, I honestly got teary. Oh, Fumi. *snif* You really are the best of all.

2. Fruits Basket | Natsuki Takaya | Tohru & Kyo

Okay, so they don’t actually show Tohru’s marriage to Kyo, but after 23 volumes of pounding in the message that a girl’s most important dream is marriage, Takaya at least provides us with proof that it happened after all. It’s a pretty sweet little moment too, even if it gets her out of having to deal with any of the hard stuff.

3. NANA | Ai Yazawa | Hachi & Takumi

Though Hachi and Takumi’s wedding is possibly the least romantic thing to ever hit the page as far as I’m concerned, its business-like manner reminds us all that marriage is really just a contract, for good or for ill, and that it can’t create or replace love and emotional partnership. Will we ever find out how this marriage really turns out? I dearly hope so.

A list of manga weddings was difficult for me to muster, I have to admit. Readers, can you do better?

Playing for the Ashes by Elizabeth George: A-

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Book description:
When country milkman Martin Snell makes his usual delivery to fifteenth-century Celandine Cottage one fine spring morning in Kent, he expects to be greeted by the cottage’s seductive tenant, Gabriella Patten, not the ugly remains of a fire pointing to murder.

As all of England, as well as the magnetic world of national cricket, discovers itself reeling from the shock of this particular crime, Lynley and Havers find themselves working on the most frustrating case of their careers: the perfect crime. When in an act of desperation Lynley breaks department rules to flush out the killer, he risks being pulled from the case and jeopardizes his career with New Scotland Yard.

In Playing for the Ashes, a deft study of human nature and a crime with too much evidence result in a powerful work of fiction that pulls the reader into a fully created world to explore the dark side of passion and self-delusion.

Review:
I would normally never dream of naming the culprit in a review of a mystery novel. But your average mystery novel usually doesn’t have themes, which this one does, and exploring those requires me to divulge some essential details. Major spoilers ahead.

When Kenneth Fleming, a renowned batsman for England’s cricket team, is found dead in his lover’s rented cottage in Kent, a media frenzy ensues. Scotland Yard is called in to assist in the investigation, and Inspector Lynley and Sergeant Havers must get the truth out of various recalcitrant witnesses before their lack of results sees them ousted from the case. The principal cast includes Jean Cooper, Fleming’s soon-to-be ex-wife; Jimmy Cooper, his grungy and rebellious teenage son; Miriam Whitelaw, Fleming’s former teacher and current roommate and patron; Olivia Whitelaw, Miriam’s estranged daughter and frequent narrator; and Chris Farraday, animal activist and Olivia’s bargemate.

I mentioned above that this work has themes, and the central one seems to be: choices. Everyone in the story is either faced with a choice or dealing with the repercussions of a choice they made in the past. While teenagers, Fleming and Jean chose to have unprotected sex, then chose to marry and keep the baby, putting an end to his scholastic ambitions, much to Miriam Whitelaw’s dismay. Olivia Whitelaw chose to break free of her privileged life and pursue a path of debauchery and drugs.

In the present, Lynley has still not received a response to his marriage proposal to Lady Helen, and he finally insists that she decide one way or the other. Fleming chooses not to reveal that he has decided to cancel a fishing trip with his son to go to Kent and end his relationship with a promiscuous girlfriend, an omission which leads to his death, as Miriam chooses that moment to get rid of the problem girlfriend on his behalf. Jimmy chooses to follow his dad and to later confess to the crime, believing that the person he saw at the cottage that night was his mother.

Despite the objections of his superiors, Lynley chooses to bring media scrutiny down upon Jimmy to exert pressure on Olivia, who must choose whether to reveal admissions of guilt made by her mother, just when the two had achieved some measure of reconciliation brought on by Olivia’s request for help in dealing with her illness, ALS. This choice affects Farraday’s life, as well, since Olivia being in her mother’s care will allow him to spend more time with the woman he loves. Heck, even Havers faces a choice regarding whether to befriend an eight-year-old neighbor!

Another prominent theme is the comparison of platonic love and physical love. Both Olivia and her mother are living with men they love who, though they care for the Whitelaw women, don’t return their feelings in the same degree. Actually loving a man is painful for Olivia, for whom sex has always been a casual thing, since the one person she really wants to be with in that respect sees her only as a friend. Physical relationships are portrayed as fleeting and lust-driven, and George goes a bit overboard in depicting some of these, especially an awful scene occurring between a hostile young Olivia and her father. In fact, much of Olivia’s early narration is frustrating, because she is so insolent as to be borderline intolerable, but by the end of the novel she does become a sympathetic character.

On the whole, despite some unpleasant and unnecessary bits, I liked Playing for the Ashes a lot. I thought it was cleverly constructed and well written, and was impressed that it managed to convey just how much the victim would be missed by those he left behind, something many mysteries fail to do. It made me care about the characters more than the solution, and I actually got sniffly when Lady Helen (who has the best line of the novel in “I’m very nearly frivolity personified”) finally made her decision. Happily, I still have ten more books in this series to go!

From the stack: House of Five Leaves vol. 2

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Of all of the series in Viz’s SigIKKI initiative, I think Natsume Ono’s House of Five Leaves is probably my favorite. It’s intriguing in a very delicate, oblique way, and it’s rare to be able to say that about… well… just about any kind of entertainment.

It’s about an out-of-work samurai called Masa who falls in with a gang of kidnappers. Masa isn’t a bad person, but he lacks confidence, and he doesn’t inspire it. He looks physically frail, and whatever good intentions he may have are outweighed by the harsh realities of his jobless existence.

Beyond necessity, the gang, the Five Leaves, have a kind of lazy allure. They aren’t violent, and they plan carefully to make sure they profit from their illegal activities. There’s Matsukichi, the spy who prefers to keep his own counsel. In the rest of his life, Ume owns a bar and looks after his daughter who’s just entering adulthood. Sexy, mature Otake views life with a wry curiosity. And Yaichi, their ringleader, has a shady glamour and a strange kind of affection for, or at least profound interest in, Masa.

They’re appealing individually and as a quintet. Ono has assembled the kind of cast I could happily read about if they just sat around and drank and gossiped (which they do a lot). But she finds surprising depths in all of them, and she shifts their relationships around in measured but heartfelt ways.

The second volume digs into Umezo’s criminal past as it encroaches on his present. Masa is recuperating with Ume’s former boss, Goinkyo. Two of Goinkyo’s former underlings are stirring up trouble, one reluctantly and one maliciously. There’s blackmail involved, and violence, but they’re secondary to the dynamics that fuel them. Fatherly Goinkyo seems to have a sense for people who aren’t cut out for a life of crime, and his observations resonate through the events and revelations of the volume. And, of course, there’s Yaichi, guarding his secrets and managing the state of his colleagues at the same time, while wanting to not seem like he’s trying very hard.

In that, he’s representative of the series itself. It kind of glides along, casting sideways glances at its characters that mask the sharpness of its observations. It’s sly, but it’s also very sincere. With an apparent absence of effort, Ono has crafted a cast and a set of circumstances that are deeply involving, even at a very low volume. Ono leaves you wanting to know everything there is to know about these intensely private people, even as you understand she probably won’t spill everything. As low-key as House of Five Leaves is, it’s also cumulatively stunning. I can’t get enough of its hidden depths.