Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Features & Reviews

Taking a Close Look at Ultra Jump

by 11 Comments

This article was originally published at Mangacast.net.

As sure as boys become men, some boys who read manga become men who read manga. And, at some point, battles for ninja clan supremacy fail to fully meet the emotional needs of that audience. No, that audience wants more violence, less focus on teamwork and strangely uncomfortable series that resolve without ending or end without resolving. For these readers, Ultra Jump is the magazine of choice.

Running 16 series currently, Ultra Jump is heavy on the sci-fi/fantasy and action, with some martial arts and a soupçon of magic. Ultra Jump got it’s start in 1999, some 30 years after it’s younger brother Shounen Jump. UJ is a monthly magazine, retailing in Japan for ￥560 ($6.65USD at time of writing) for just over 500 pages and like Shounen Jump, it’s available pretty much anywhere manga magazines are sold in Japan and in most Japanese bookstores in America. The 2010 circulation for Ultra Jump is reported to be 73,20 which is slightly up from 2009’s 70,834 and close to the 2008 circulation.  Ultra Jump has a digital magazine called Ultra Jump Egg, which provides sample chapters of manga series that have just begun to run in the magazine or, are perhaps being considered for it.

Of the series running currently in Ultra Jump, several have had a checkered experience on US shores. Infamously, Tenjou Tenge, which recently finished, was originally licensed by CMX, who had the nerve to deprive the readership of a glimpse of girl’s underwear and was therefore censured strongly by the folks least likely to actually buy the thing anyway. Viz has rescued this audience from that hell of not being able to see girl’s underwear, and new omnibus volumes are starting to hit the shelves.  Hayate x Blade (the actual reason that I get Ultra Jump) has been licensed and published through volume 6 by Seven Seas. Because Sevens Seas licensed the title from the original publisher, Mediaworks (who ran it in Dengeki Daioh magazine through Volume 8, when it moved to Shuiesha and Ultra Jump,) there is some confusion among fans whether Seven Seas will be able to continue it at least through that point or whether Volume 6 will be as far as the series makes it in English.

Because Ultra Jump is a Shueisha book, it’s no surprise that Viz has a strong presence in the UJ license game. Hyperviolent dystopian Gumn, known here as Battle Angel Alita, has undergone only slightly fewer iterations on these shores as it has in Japan and has managed to successfully reach Volume 14 of the Final Order series. Volume 15 is slated to be released in autumn 2011 Bastard!!, which made it to Volume 19 in English, is known for going on hiatus with some regularity (and has reached that stage of “venerable old series, which means it is serialized on the order of twice a year, perhaps.) Bastard!! is now on hiatus in English, as well. Also currently published by Viz is the hyperviolent dystopian Dogs, Bullets and Carnage.

Ultra Jump series have a tendency to be very long-running as manga series, (Ninku, Tenjou Tenge, Gunm, Steel Ball Run) but if they are turned into an anime at all, the anime tend to be OVAs or short series without second seasons. The overwhelming feeling as a reader is that this is a magazine for readers of manga, as opposed to anime/manga fans. And not just readers, but readers who are in for the long haul, who are content to see the plot develop through long fight arcs and the small spaces in between them. Of the remaining unlicensed titles, I can see Jumbor being ported here, fueled by any success with Takei Hiroyuki’s collaboration with Stan Lee, Ultimo – Jumbor has very similar character designs, but a slightly more classic sci-fi feel. And I wonder if America would be ready for a Wild West manga like Minagawa Ryouji’s Peace Maker. Viz is still slowly popping out Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure, so there’s at least a chance that, when that finishes, Steel Ball Run, a hyperviolent dystopian tale of the meanest polo game you ever did see, might make it over here. That, or when they hit the lottery and want to throw some of that money away on something people want, but will never buy.

The hyperviolent dystopian magical series Anima Chal Lives (one of my personal faves in the magazine), Grandeek Reel, Heaven’s Prison and Hatsukoi Magical Blitz all have about the same chance of being licensed as Needless, which is to say little, for any number of reasons, from constant, uneditable nudity, to constant, uneditable semi-nudity. (The Needless anime was licensed, I’m still not sure why. never was there a better-named series.)

I’ve seen UJ alternately labeled shounen (for boys, say 12-15) and seinen (for young men, say 16-25.) I’d weigh in on the side of seinen. It’s not that young boys can’t or won’t read and stick with long series – One Piece proves the lie on that pretty quickly – but that the sensibility of the stories, and the crises of identities are more “adult,” if you will. When I began this article, I was surprised, pleasantly, at how many of the series for this magazine have made it over here.  Viz has already resurrected Tenjou Tenge and, damn I’d love to hear that Hayate x Blade will be continued.

Ultra Jump, published monthly by Shueisha. http://ultra.shueisha.co.jp/

Erica Friedman write reviews of Yuri Manga, Anime and related media at her blog Okazu .

The Josei Alphabet: T

by

“T” is for…

Tamashii no Futago, written and illustrated by Mitsuzaku Mihara, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, two volumes. One of Tokyopop’s most focused efforts in publishing josei centered around Mihara’s works like The Embalmer and others. Here’s another Mihara title featuring two ghosts and the people who can see them.

Teke Teke Rendezvous, written and illustrated by George (A Perfect Day for Love Letters) Asakura, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Zipper, two volumes. The aggressive exterior of agricultural student Tayoko masks a novice in the ways of love. She’s working her way through school in a hostess club, so that should help out with the experience shortage.

Ten no Hate Chi no Kagiri, written and illustrated by Waki Yamato, originally serialized in Kodansha’s mimi, one volume. I note this tale of a poetess and seer wooed from a life of celibacy and service by rival princes not so much because it sounds particularly interesting but because its creator seems overdue for introduction to English-language audiences. Yamato is quite prolific, and it seems unfortunate that none of her work is available in print and in English.

Tenpari Ninpu no Shussan Icchokusen! written and illustrated by Tomoko Tamiya, originally published by Futubasha, one volume. This comic was developed to help women overcome their fear of childbirth and to give them strategies to help them enjoy pregnancy. Do you find that cover comforting? I think it looks like something by Junko Mizuno.

Tokyo Girls Bravo, written and illustrated by Kyoko (Helter Skelter) Okazaki, originally serialized in Takarajimsha’s CUTIE, two volumes, published in French by Casterman: A girl from the sticks finally gets the chance to live in Tokyo and fulfill her punk-rock dreams, but obstacles are thrown in her path by her conservative family. Every version of the covers for this book that I’ve seen is absolutely awesome.

Licensed josei:

  • Tomie, written and illustrated by Junji Ito, originally published by Asahi Sonorama, published in English by Comics One and Dark Horse, two volumes.
  • Tramps Like Us, written and illustrated by Yayoi Ogawa, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, published in English by Tokyopop, 14 volumes.

What starts with “T” in your josei alphabet?

Great performances

by

It’s not a spectacularly interesting week in local comic shops, so I’ve decided I’d rather talk about two extraordinary performances by actresses that I enjoyed over the weekend.

I saw Follies at the Kennedy Center on Friday. It’s a musical about a reunion of showgirls with a score by Stephen (Sweeney Todd, A Little Night Music, etc.) Sondheim and a book by William (The Lion in Winter) Goldman, and the original production was directed by Harold (Evita) Prince and choreographed by Michael (A Chorus Line) Bennett, and it could hardly have a more prestigious pedigree. I’d never actually seen a full production of it, though I watched and enjoyed a concert version that ran on PBS a couple of decades ago. Seeing it unfold from beginning to end forces me to conclude that it’s got some great songs, some very effective moments, and isn’t very good in terms of sustained storytelling.

The first act sketchily introduces the four leads – two former showgirls and their husbands, one pair being resolutely middle class, the other wealthy and elite – and gives a number of actresses of a certain age (in this case, Linda Lavin, Elaine Paige, Terri White, and others) the chance to bring down the house. The second act focuses more intently on the disintegration of the two marriages, and the piece ends on a spectacular note with a sequence, “Loveland,” where the protagonists each get a dazzling number that articulates their angst in song and dance.

Ostensibly, the biggest draw to the production should be Bernadette Peters, who plays middle-class Sally, the emotionally fragile ex-showgirl who has completely unrealistic hopes for the reunion, most of them centered on her unresolved feelings for rich, elite Ben (played by Ron Raines of Guiding Light fame). You would think the role would be right in her wheelhouse, but maybe she was cast too well. I rarely found myself thinking about the character (who isn’t particularly sympathetic to begin with) as much as the ways Peters’ own narrative intersects with the role.

For me, the knockout, starring performance came from Jan Maxwell as Phyllis, the chorine turned high-society matron who harbors deep (and justified) dissatisfactions under her pristine exterior. I vaguely remember liking Maxwell in some episodes of Law and Order, but I wouldn’t trade the experience of seeing her perform live for anything, even in a show as problematic as Follies. Fairness demands that I acknowledge that Phyllis is probably the best written character in the show, and she certainly gets to perform my favorite numbers (“Could I Leave You?” and “The Ballad of Lucy and Jessie”). All the same, she rips into the role with a seriousness of purpose and a focus that are marvelous to witness. While she’s hardly the best singer and dancer on the stage, her musical numbers are informed by her acting choices, particularly the sense that Phyllis is rediscovering the joy of performing and what it brings to her as an independent entity. Of the “Loveland Numbers,” hers was the one that brought down the house, even with Peters doing a creditable job with the lachrymose cabaret standard “Losing My Mind.”

As for the rest of the cast, their relative success depends on how invested they are in playing a role rather than performing a number. The audience loved Lavin’s “Broadway Baby,” but it seemed to me more of a lively night-club number than an organic part of Follies. Paige’s take on “I’m Still Here” seemed to demonstrate a mighty (and unsuccessful) struggle to make an iconic number personal. White’s “Who’s that Woman?” deservedly stopped the show, partly for the force of her performance and because it’s one of the rare moments when the show’s core concept actually coheres perfectly. White and the other showgirls perform an old favorite as ghosts of their former selves perform with varying degrees of synchronicity, at times displaying the indignities of age. (And, great as White is, the number gave Maxwell the first opportunity to show Phyllis rediscovering herself through performance.)

Raines sings wonderfully well, but his performance isn’t sufficiently complex to make selfish bastard Ben particularly involving. Danny Burstein is close to great as Sally’s long-suffering husband, Buddy. I was delighted to see the actors playing younger versions of the central quartet rewarded for their hard work in thankless roles with spot-on performances terrific songs in the “Loveland” sequence, the wittily written “You’re Gonna Love Tomorrow” and “Love Will See Us Through.” (In truth, I think Lora Lee Gayer gave a better performance as Sally than Peters did, and she gave a pretty good performance as Peters at the same time.)

Because it was devastatingly hot in our nation’s capital, we spent part of the next day in the cool comfort of a movie theatre watching Super 8. Let me tell you, there are a number of worse ways you could spend a hot afternoon. The overall narrative doesn’t offer any surprises, but the execution is packed with craft and grace notes. Sure, it’s basically J.J. Abrams writing and directing a mash note to the films of Stephen Spielberg, but Abrams avoids the worst of his inspiration and executive producer’s tendency towards cheap sentiment while crafting what’s ultimately a really entertaining, nicely paced movie. (I’ve whined before about filmmakers’ tendencies to pad out the final act of a film with totally needless hullaballoo, but there’s none of that here.)

The whole cast is strong, but I was mesmerized by Elle Fanning as I was several summers ago by her older sister, Dakota, in director Spielberg’s War of the Worlds. (Of course, Dakota Fanning was the only thing worth watching in that movie, which made the performance that much more magical.) In Super 8, Elle Fanning plays the generally thankless role of the only girl in a group of boys. I’m not quite sure if it’s because of her performance or due to Abrams’ design, but “the girl” in this case actually has agency and doesn’t just end up being a catalyst for the boys’ reactions. There’s some of that, and the boys are all good at playing their respective archetypes, but Elle Fanning is endlessly watchable and sympathetic. Honestly, I’d like to see her nominated for an Academy Award. She’s just that good.

Rocket Girls by Housuke Nojiri

by

From the back cover:
Yukari Morita is a high school girl on a quest to find her missing father. While searching for him in the Solomon Islands, she receives the offer of a lifetime—she’ll get the help she needs to find her father, and all she need do in return is become the world’s youngest, lightest astronaut. Yukari and her half-sister Matsuri, also petite, are the perfect crew for the Solomon Space Association’s launches, or will be once they complete their rigorous and sometimes dangerous training.

Review:
I was really looking forward to reading Rocket Girls. I’ve long been intrigued by VIZ Media’s venture into Japanese sci-fi, Haikasoru, but this is the first title in the lineup that I’ve read (unless you count Brave Story, which I read before it was grandfathered into the imprint). Alas, I ended up disappointed.

The basic plot is that Yukari Morita, a high school student weighing 37 kg. (81 lbs.) has traveled to the Solomon Islands during summer vacation to search for her deadbeat father. She ends up meeting scientists from the Solomon Space Association just when they’ve determined that they need a really light person to pilot their rocket, and when the director promises to help her find her father, she agrees. Later, her similarly petite half-sister Matsuri joins up to serve as backup. The SSA folks have a lot of trouble getting a rocket into orbit, but eventually succeed (sort of) and Yukari becomes a national hero.

I guess I was hoping for the novel equivalent of Twin Spica or something, but Rocket Girls doesn’t even come close to achieving the passion and poignancy on display in that series. In fact, it almost totally lacks any depth whatsoever. The book is about 80% dialogue, with very little insight into Yukari’s thoughts, let alone anyone else’s. As a result, many of the characters’ reactions and decisions are inexplicable. Here are some examples:

  • The director of the space program, Isao Nasuda, calls up Yukari’s mother to obtain her permission for Yukari to become an astronaut. Without asking any questions at all, her mother agrees. I could accept a similarly carefree mom in a manga comedy, but it’s harder to swallow in a sci-fi novel.
  • Very quickly, Yukari finds her father, who had no idea she even existed (having disappeared during his honeymoon). His reaction? “How about that?” What, that’s it?!
  • Yukari decides she doesn’t fancy dying in an unsafe spacecraft, but her father won’t come back to Japan with her if she outright quits, so she decides to gain weight so that Matsuri will have to take her place. And then, suddenly, she’s done with that idea. I think this is because one of the scientists guys waxed poetic about his spacefaring dreams, but I’m not sure.
  • Yukari then decides to become hyper-vigilant about the safety of the craft and goes on a hunger strike protesting some new fuel mixture. And then later, when she’s strapped in and ready to take off, the team finds a problem. Her response? “If we let every little thing scare us, we’ll never launch.” Uh, then what was that whole protest about? She even had a sign.

At first, I was bothered that none of the adults seemed to have any empathy for Yukari. They treated her as a tool and spoke dispassionately of bringing her to her breaking point so they could test the jungle-survival capabilities of the new skintight spacesuit they’d designed for her. But then I realized that I had lost all empathy for Yukari, too! Probably I was supposed to care when she nearly died during the flight, but I did not. I just wanted the book to end. After a kind of cool but very brief visit to Mir, I got my wish.

Is one slightly nifty bit near the end enough to recommend the book? I think not. There is also a sequel, but I’ve no intention of reading it.

Bookshelf Briefs, 6/13/11

by , and 6 Comments

This week, MJ, Kate, & Michelle take a look at a handful of titles from Viz Media and Digital Manga Publishing.

Border, Vol. 1 | By Kazuma Kodaka | Digital Manga Publishing – If you’re still mourning the cancellation of Crown, you could do a lot worse than Border, a globe-trotting adventure about an ex-commando who runs a detective agency. The story focuses on a quartet of handsome men: Yamato, a former Special Forces officer; Sogo, the team’s go-to guy for explosives and gizmos; Tamaki, a hairdresser who moonlights as a detective; and Kippei, their plucky Guy Friday. Volume one begins with two stories showing the team solving cases, then jumps back in time to explore Yamato’s military past. Aside from a few unfortunate “I’m not gay, you’re special!” conversations between Yamato and his lover, the flashback works surprisingly well, explaining both Yamato’s skills (he can repel down skyscraper walls and overpower men twice his size) and his conflicted attitudes about sex. Sexy character designs, decent action sequences, and an engaging plot complete the attractive package. -Katherine Dacey

Claymore, Vol. 18 | By Norihiro Yagi | Viz Media – I’m a big fan of Claymore, there’s no doubt, but I’ll admit the last two volumes have wearied me some. Aside from a few fascinating revelations at the beginning of volume 16, it’s been all battles, all the time in the Claymore universe lately. But though volume 18 deviates very little from that trend, it also offers at long last the confrontation we’ve been moving toward for nearly the entire series as Clare meets Priscilla on the battlefield once more. While it’s true that battles are hardly my favorite thing, even in battle manga, this kind of emotionally fraught skirmish shows off mangaka Norihiro Yagi at his best. It’s nice to finally find myself at the edge of my seat again. Bring it on, Yagi, bring it on. -MJ

The Desert Prince | By Shushushu Sakurai | Digital Manga Publishing – Superficially, the five stories that comprise The Desert Prince are very different: one focuses on the relationship between a handsome sheik and a Japanese tourist, for example, while another explores the attraction between a yakuza enforcer and his protege. Plot-wise, however, all five stories follow the same trajectory, with characters fussin’ and fightin’ until one breaks down and confesses his true feelings for the other, leading to a brief but steamy sex scene. Shushushu Sakurai’s character designs are generally appealing, though she struggles a bit to make her older men look their age; the hero of the final story, “Mister Y’s Love,” looks more like a shar-pei puppy than a retiree. What prevents The Desert Prince from being a guilty pleasure is the thinness of the writing; there are simply too many plot holes, coincidences, and abrupt reversals for any of the stories to make much of an impression, in or out of the bedroom. -Katherine Dacey

Fullmetal Alchemist, Vol. 25 | By Hiromu Arakawa | Viz Media – Oh, Fullmetal Alchemist, you never cease to thrill me. Just two volumes away from the conclusion to Arakawa’s epic fantasy-adventure, what strikes me most is just how tightly plotted this series has been since the beginning. With everything coming together as the story approaches climax, it’s clear now that there has been nothing in this entire series—not a single side character, perhaps not even a single joke—that wasn’t carefully crafted to serve that climax in one way or another. Also, between volumes 24 and 25, it’s been made clear to me that a feature on “The Women of Fullmetal Alchemist” is not only imminent, but essential. Arakawa’s women simply kick ass. Highly recommended. -MJ

Ouran High School Host Club, Vol. 16 | By Bisco Hatori | Viz Media – The perpetual brakes on the passage of time in Ouran have finally been released and Haruhi becomes a second-year student at long last. Other changes are afoot, too, as Tamaki’s domineering grandmother finally allows him to live in the main house, though this means adhering to her strict rules. Tamaki commits to the challenge admirably—even though it means giving up the host club and possibly Haruhi as well—while everyone else worries about him. Even though this storyline shows most of the characters to their advantage, I would so much rather see Tamaki and Haruhi make real romantic progress that the bulk of this volume is downright dull. I hope we can put Tamaki’s family issues behind us soon and get to the good stuff! -Michelle Smith

Twinkle Stars 1-2 by Natsuki Takaya

by

I have no idea why Natsuki Takaya’s Twinkle Stars (aka Hoshi wa Utau) has yet to be licensed in the US, but when I learned that English editions were available in Singapore/Australia, I knew I had to acquire them. See the final paragraph of this post for a link where you might do the same.

I thought I might be disappointed by this series. There’s no shortage of complaining Takaya fans online, after all, and it’s not like her other series Tsubasa: Those With Wings or Phantom Dream really knocked my socks off, though I did come to like the latter by the end. After having read these two volumes, however, I am left to conclude that the chief complaint of unhappy fans is that Twinkle Stars is nothing like Fruits Basket. But why should it be? It’s a completely different kind of story, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t good!

Sakuya Shiina is a heroine in the mold of Tohru Honda, in that she has a difficult family situation but tries to keep up a cheerful front and doesn’t talk about her own problems very much. Her father contracted her cousin, Kanade, to be her guardian, though it’s unclear whether Sakuya knows that, since she seems to regard Kanade as a kind of savior (and often defends him against allegations of laziness). We don’t learn too much about Kanade, but it seems that he originally kept his distance from Sakuya, but has lately become very fond of her. As the story begins, he has actually remembered her birthday and offered to cook Sakuya’s favorites for dinner.

When Sakuya gets home from her part-time job that evening, she finds that Kanade is not alone. A young man named Chihiro is with him, and Sakuya simply assumes he’s one of Kanade’s friends. He gives her a present and tells her she’s amazing for always smiling and never giving up. Attracted to his lonely mien, Sakuya wants to meet him again, but discovers the next morning that Kanade didn’t actually know Chihiro at all! He spotted him loitering around outside with a gift box and assumed he was there for the festivities.

Sakuya becomes determined to find Chihiro and enlists the help of her two best friends, Hijiri Honjō and Yūri Murakami, who are also members of the stargazing club Sakuya has started. One of Natsuki Takaya’s strengths is in creating terrific friends for her heroine, and Hijiri and Yūri are both interesting characters in their own right. Yūri is pretty straightforward—a short but athletic fellow who is brave, forthright, and easily flustered—but Hijiri is a lot more complex, one of those refined-looking girls who loves to say things that rile other people but who is fiercely protective of Sakuya, even though she seems to adore her friend largely because of her ineptitude in various areas and doesn’t intervene to spare her embarrassment. I think I could easily read a spin-off all about Hijiri, especially since we’ve already gotten a couple of hints that she’s got secrets.

Eventually, Sakuya runs into Chihiro. She’s convinced he’s not a bad person and just wants to hear his reasons for what he did so as to understand, but he’s not cooperative. “I don’t want to tell you anything,” he says, and seems willing to concoct some fantasy persona for himself but not reveal the reality of his life. He disappears after telling Sakuya he hates her, and only then does she realize that she’s fallen in love with him.

At this point it becomes apparent that this will probably be one of those stories (like We Were There or Kare Kano) where the heroine will help heal the hero’s pain and angst. Because this is a shoujo manga Chihiro soon transfers into Sakuya’s school, and though he is initially cold and remote, he very slowly begins to warm up to Sakuya. Another thing Takaya is good at is leaving little clues about important events, and we get a couple of glimpses of Chihiro’s past that inform his behavior toward Sakuya. Primarily, she’s so vulnerable and pathetic that it moves him to protect her, and this sort of unpredictable impulse scares him.

It’s not that he actually hates her, but that he’s uncomfortable and unsure around her. This point is proven when Sakuya speaks before a group of students in an attempt to recruit new members for the stargazing club. She flounders so badly that Chihiro, spurred by the memory of another girl in a similar situation, rushes to her side to reassure her. Although he initially comes across as an irritating jerk, by the end of the second volume it’s clear that he’s mostly just awkward, and perhaps a little broken, too. Sakuya continues to be confused by his behavior, but the lingering sadness in his eyes convinces her not to give up.

The quality of the Chuang Yi edition is quite good. Physically, the paper quality is lovely, the images are crisp and clean, and the volumes come with dust jackets. The translation has a British flair, tickling me by including words like “wonky” and “vexing.” Takaya’s art looks great, but also makes for a kind of bizarre reading experience. The characters are so obviously drawn by her that they look and feel incredibly familiar, and yet they are not copies of anyone in either design or personality. Take, for example, this panel of Sakuya and Chihiro.

There’s no doubt who drew that. And they look slightly reminiscent of other characters, but one would never get them confused. It’s almost like we’re seeing some denizens of the Fruits Basket world to whom we were simply never introduced before.

Contrary to expectations, I enjoyed Twinkle Stars a lot. True, it’s not epic on the level of Fruits Basket, but again, that’s okay by me. I certainly don’t expect Takaya to keep writing the same sorts of things over and over, and I’m really looking forward to seeing what she achieves with this different kind of tale.

Twinkle Stars is not currently licensed in North America. These English editions were published by Chuang Yi Publishing in Singapore and distributed by Madman Entertainment out of Australia. They are available for purchase here, but shipping is quite expensive. I’ll be switching to the French editions from volume three onwards. The series is complete in Japan with eleven volumes.

License request day: Prix Asie 2011

by

This week, we have less of a license request than a round-up of likely candidates. Tom (The Comics Reporter) Spurgeon shared this year’s nominees for the Association des Critiques et Journalistes de Bande Dessinée’s Prix Asie award, so let’s learn more!

We’ll start in the Philippines with Gerry Alanguilan’s Elmer, published in French by Editions Çà et Là. This is a family drama set in a world where chickens have achieved (or downgraded to) a human-equivalent level of sentience and emotional complexity. That’s a really neat premise, and the preview pages at the publisher’s site are gorgeous and odd. Alanguilan has worked on some high-profile franchise properties in the U.S., but I’d much rather read about the neurotic chickens.

Sanpei Shirato’s Kamui-Den, published in French by Kana, offers more from the gekiga category. This time, it’s a period piece about a young ninja fighting against dehumanizing caste systems during the Edo period. I think Viz published at least some of this a while back as The Legend of Kamui. It ran for 21 volumes in Garo. I love the cover designs, which is kind of an emerging theme.

I’m already kind of in love with Kazuo Kamimura’s La plaine du Kantô (published in French by Kana), based almost entirely on the covers, but I always thought Kamimura’s art was always the most interesting thing about Lady Snowblood (Dark Horse). This seems to be an autobiographically informed story of cross-cultural understanding set in Japan just after the end of World War II.  I have no idea who originally published it, but it sounds interesting.

Shotaro Ishinomori’s Le voyage de Ryu (published in French by Glénat) features a young man who travels a bit father in space and time than he’d intended. He wakes from suspended animation to find that his ship has crashed onto a bizarre and hostile planet. It seems like there should be more of Ishinomori’s work in print, though some publishers have made stabs in the past. I mean, he did kind of help define the super-hero for Japanese comics fans, didn’t he?

Last, but certainly not least, is Makoto (Planetes) Yukimura’s Vinland Saga, published in French by Kurokawa, which has been lurking near the top of my license wish list for years. YEARS.

Which of these do you find most enticing?

Grand Guignol Orchestra, Vol. 3

by

In his review of TRON: Legacy, critic Andrew O’Hehir made a distinction between movies that are boring because they make the viewer keenly aware of time’s passage — what he calls “intentional and challenging boredom” — and movies that are boring because they overstimulate the viewer — what he calls the boredom of “endless distraction and wall-to-wall entertainment.” Kaori Yuki’s latest effort, Grand Guignol Orchestra, is a prime example of the latter, a relentlessly melodramatic horror story that never pauses to catch its breath. And while that kind of manga can be engrossing, Yuki’s unwillingness to vary the tone or pace robs Grand Guignol Orchestra of its power to shock, amuse, or arouse anything resembling a real human emotion.

In other words, it’s boring.

The third volume isn’t boring for lack of effort. There’s a lengthy set-piece in which Eles, Gwindel, and Lucille engage in hand-to-hand combat with an evil, cross-dressing nun who is, in fact, a castrato; there are several flashbacks to Lucille and Gwindel’s tortured pasts; and there’s a third-act auction in which noblemen bid for the privilege of watching a young woman be transformed into a zombie. And if those plot twists weren’t enough to hold the reader’s attention, Yuki throws in a few more for good measure: characters double- and triple-cross each other, former enemies unite against a common foe, and zombies swarm a castle, chomping on everyone in sight.

For all the sound and fury, volume three is dramatically inert. Every conversation is overwrought to the point of cartoonishness, draining the truly horrific and sad moments of their visceral power. Worse still, Yuki feels the need to include closed captions for the emotionally impaired, a function she’s assigned to the hapless Eles; when Eles isn’t playing the piano or being held hostage by one of Lucille’s enemies, her primary job is to think about the other characters: “Oh, so that’s why so-and-so has been depressed!” or “They don’t hate each other; they just can’t be together!” And so on.

The artwork, like the script, seems calculated to overwhelm rather than seduce. Yuki is a big proponent of the costume-as-character school of manga writing, substituting epaulets, eye patches, and lace for actual personality traits. As a result, every character, no matter how inconsequential to the story, wears a wackadoo outfit of one sort or another: a habit with a plunging neckline, a clown mask and a cock-eyed top hat. Yuki’s artwork is certainly arresting; her linework is very sensual, and her flair for drawing costumes undeniable, but her desire to populate every scene with elaborately dressed nuns, zombies, and masqueraders comes across as numbing excess in a story that lacks any form of narrative restraint.

I realize that many people will read this review and think I’m a killjoy, that I’ve lost my ability to enjoy a manga for what it is and not what I want it to be. And, to some extent, those readers are right; after five years of grinding out manga reviews, I’m no longer enthusiastic about stories that rely on spectacle to command my attention. But what I find more frustrating about Grand Guignol Orchestra is that there’s nothing real or interesting lurking beneath its busy surface; it’s hysteria masquerading as drama, and the constant stimulation of all-caps dialogue, sudden plot reversals, and Baroque murders becomes its own form of tedium to be endured, rather than something to be savored and enjoyed.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC.

GRAND GUIGNOL ORCHESTRA, VOL. 3 • BY KAORI YUKI • VIZ MEDIA • 196 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

From the stack: Ten Questions for the Maidman

by

I think Adam Warren has done tremendous work turning Empowered into something much greater than the sum of its parts. This trend continues with the second series special, Ten Questions for the Maidman. I’m always impressed with the ways that Warren can stretch a single, seemingly unpromising joke several times farther than what would be the snapping point for lesser writers.

Adam Warren is joined on artistic duties by Emily Warren, who provides painted pages for the titular interview that are sprinkled throughout the comic. They’re attractive, but they reinforce for me how essential Adam Warren’s creative control is to the property. One of the reasons Maidman is a great joke is the character’s routinely masculine body language. He’s just a guy who happens to fight crime in a frilly maid’s costume, as stolid and solid as your average caped vigilante.

In the interview pages, Emily Warren overlays Maidman’s body language with a certain coyness that, to my way of thinking, undermines the deadpan genius of the character, which is articulated in Maidman’s responses to the fatuous interviewer for a super-hero version of Inside Edition or Entertainment Tonight. The amusing cognitive dissonance is lost when Maidman is actually behaving in ways that are consistent with his appearance. It’s just not as funny, and it almost seems to contradict what the character is saying in his feature sequences. His shtick seems more about playing on the perceptions opponents impose on him, not about actively triggering those perceptions. It’s funnier when it’s the villain’s gay-panic paranoia at work rather than being a response to Maidman’s active provocation.

Still, this is an entirely welcome expansion on the Empowered universe, focusing on one of the funnier and more subversive supporting characters while still giving the title character some moments to shine. I hope Adam Warren keeps this specials coming, as they help to pass the time between new volumes of the main series by being perfectly entertaining in their own right.

 

Off the Shelf: Deliver us from slugs

by and 9 Comments

MJ: Well, hello there, colleague! I’m still really enjoying that.

MICHELLE: Why, hello! Fancy meeting you here.

MJ: What a lovely space we have here. Makes me feel like talking about books. And you?

MICHELLE: Now that you mention it, I am experiencing an odd tingle, so I’m going to take that as an invitation to begin! My reads this week provoked wildly different reactions in me. One was epic and impressive while the other was icky and confusing. Saving the best for last, I shall begin with the latter.

I didn’t have very high hopes for Amnesia Labyrinth, the two-volume (so far) series released this year by Seven Seas, but it is a mystery manga penned by Nagaru Tanigawa, the man behind the Haruhi Suzumiya light novels, so I at least expected to derive a modicum of enjoyment from it. Alas, while the first volume is merely not very good the second is downright craptacular.

The story begins promisingly enough. Readers witness the murder of a high school student who turns out to be the class president of the school our protagonist, Souji Kushiki, is transferring into. Two other students have died over summer break, as well. One of Souji’s classmates, the perky Yukako Sasai, is attempting to investigate and enlists his help because he’s very smart and she thinks his politician dad might be able to get her access to the police department’s information. By this point, I was expecting a Haruhi-esque story, in which stoic Souji goes along with energetic Yukako’s efforts to unravel the mystery. Instead, the story goes in a completely different direction, as we begin to learn more and more unpleasant things about Souji’s deeply creepy family.

The back cover of the first volume tries very hard to depict the “inappropriate” and “clingy” behavior of Souji’s sisters as something new, but it quickly becomes apparent that this is par for the course, given that Souji’s been having sex with his half-sister, Saki, since at least middle school. This doesn’t prevent his full-blooded sister, Youko, from coming on to him nor his innocent step-sister, Harumi, from wanting to be his bride. On top of this, Souji suspects Saki and Youko of committing the murders, and volume two attempts (in as baffling a manner as possible) to flesh out the family history as (I think) supernatural assassins of some sort who also possibly suffer from multiple personality disorder. It’s monumentally unclear and surreal in a bad way.

Natsumi Kohane’s art doesn’t help matters any. Faces are generic and stiff, anatomy can occasionally be very strange, and the action scenes in the Heian-era flashback are utterly incomprehensible. Plus, there’s a lot of squicky images like this one. Seriously, is that supposed to be sexy? It looks like she’s barfing out a slug!

Apparently, this is all that’s been written of this series so far, and the second volume is padded out with an illustration gallery and a preview of Blood Alone. Normally I’d be sorry to see a manga go unfinished, but in this case, I think we should all be grateful.

MJ: Well, wow. After that image, I find that I have nothing to say. Except maybe, “Ew.”

MICHELLE: “Ew” is certainly the prevailing thought I’m left with after that second volume. After that image, we’re both probably in need of a mental palate cleanser. I hope you’ve something that can do the trick!

MJ: You know, I do! I liked both my reads this week, but I’ll start with one I know you’ve read and liked as well to help with that cleansing. I’m talking about Bakuman, by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata, the fifth volume of which has been released just this week.

Mashiro and Takagi have gotten their manga serialized, but their success begins with a shock as their editor, Hattori, is being replaced by Miura, a man they’ve never met before. Though they have no choice but to accept the change, things get off to a rocky start as their series takes a while to catch on with Jump readers.

I’ve blown hot and cold with this manga in some ways, but I think I’ll never stop being fascinated by the look it provides into the process at Weekly Shonen Jump, however pro-Jump it might read to someone with more knowledge of the business in Japan. I’m charmed, too, by the way its creators use the Jump formula to comment in Jump itself.

For a long time, these things were the series’ only decisive draw for me, but more and more I’m drawn in by the series’ supporting characters, especially eccentric prodigy Eiji Nizuma and Takagi’s girlfriend, Miyoshi, who are probably my favorite characters in the series.

Volume five warms me to some potential new favorites, including reluctant mangaka Hiramaru who, when asked if he wanted to be a manga artist, replies, “Maybe, for like a fraction of a second.” I’m also becoming increasingly fond of self-possessed writer Aoki, who manages to lower her defenses a bit in this volume.

More astonishingly, the series’ protagonists have started to matter to me. While this should perhaps be a given for most series, this is the first volume in which I’ve found myself really at the edge of my seat, wondering what will happen as they receive each week’s reader survey results. Finally these characters mean something to me, which makes the whole thing that much more worthwhile. It’s a real treat.

MICHELLE: I love Nizuma so much now that I can’t believe I ever found him irritating. My favorite moment in the whole volume occurs when Mashiro and Takagi encounter him at the Jump New Year’s party, dramatically quaffing soda from a champagne glass.

I’m with you, too, on finally caring about Mashiro and Takagi as people. I think it helps that other characters are acknowledging the ridiculousness of Mashiro’s arrangement with Miho, the girl he likes, not to see each other until their dreams come true. Plus, Miyoshi is so awesome that Takagi grows more awesome for liking a girl like her.

It’s really become a series that I actively anticipate.

MJ: You’re absolutely right about Miyoshi’s awesomeifying effect. And I think it helps, too, that Miho is really struggling, so we’re seeing some nuance in that relationship even within its ridiculous construct.

So go on now and hit me with “epic and impressive!”

MICHELLE: I know that you, historically, have not had an easy time getting into Eiichiro Oda’s One Piece, but I have to say, it really is a stunning piece of storytelling. Oda has created not just a cast of likable characters, but a fully realized world for them to inhabit, and in this world, conflict has long been brewing between the pirates and the navy.

In volume 57 of the series, this conflict comes to a head on the island of Marineford where Portgaz D. Ace, brother to series protagonist Monkey D. Luffy, is about to be executed by the navy. Luffy’s on his way to save him, along with a plethora of pirates he helped escape from the impregnable prison Impel Down, but does not actually appear until midway through the volume. Instead, we witness the beginnings of an epic clash between the navy and Whitebeard, a powerful pirate and Ace’s captain.

The battle is huge, sprawling, and fascinating. It’s made doubly more impressive by the fact that, with the exception of the tardy Luffy, it’s entirely being carried out by supporting characters. That is how fleshed out this world is—there’s a whole cast of semi-familiar navy officials (and hired security of sorts in the form of the Warlords of the Sea) to go up against Whitebeard and his allies. Part of the draw is the cool Devil Fruit powers nearly everyone seems to possess, but Oda does a great job conveying the importance of this encounter as well as linking the public revelation of Luffy’s parentage to events that occurred much earlier in the series. Continuity has always been one of the series’ strongest suits.

I must also mention that many of Luffy’s allies are drag queens who rush into the fray whilst wearing fishnets and high heels. No one bats an eye, because in this universe, it’s a given truth that anyone can be brave and awesome, even if they’re a man wearing a tutu.

MJ: Well, if you think about it, is there anyone braver than a man wearing a tutu? I think not.

I know I need to get further into this series, and every time you or David talk about it, I remember why.

MICHELLE: That’s a very good point!

And yes, you do. I wish everyone had a public library as awesome as mine, because it’s ever so much easier to commit to a 62-volumes-so-far series like this one when you have that kind of resource. Even so, I find myself seriously tempted to start compiling my own collection. It’s just that good.

What else did you read this week?

MJ: Well, I’m way behind, but I finally read the third volume of Natsume Ono’s House of Five Leaves, one of my very favorite current series.

It’s difficult to discuss plot when talking about this series, because though things do happen in the world of broken samurai Masa, the story’s actual events are never really the point. There’s a missing member of the Five Leaves gang and the theft of a candle merchant’s seals, but the real story here seems to be about Masa’s acquaintance with a man from the magistrate’s office and the strain that acquaintance is putting on his relationship with Five Leaves leader, Yaichi.

This series is built on deeply private characters and layers and layers of atmosphere. Even when nothing particular is going on, you can feel the weight of Masa’s world on his slouched shoulders. Even in his most contented moments, his world feels heavy, yet he’s quietly grateful for all of it, somehow. He’s the soul of this story in all his passive reticence, and it’s his personal journey that most interests me.

That said, some real tension begins brewing in the plot department during this volume, which should offer a clearer thread of action as the story continues on. And if I’m content to sit with Masa as he quietly waffles through life, I admit that this extra momentum is a bit exciting. One gets the feeling that it wouldn’t take much for the entire world Ono has created to shatter into pieces, should something happen to break the tension she’s built up so slowly.

This series is one I find myself rereading already just to pick up extra nuances as I head into each new volume. It’s that compelling for me.

MICHELLE: I haven’t read beyond volume one yet myself, but even from the beginning the weight of tension is tangible. Now I’m excited by proxy at the idea of actual plot momentum. I wonder if that’s an IKKI thing, because Saturn Apartments is similar—I’m perfectly content to wallow in its slice-of-life charm, but small stirrings of actual plot seem to be cropping up in earnest now, meaning the series might become even more enjoyable.

MJ: Yes, I’m really looking forward to what the next volume has in store.

In other news, every time I look up at that slug-tongue image, it creeps me out more. I had to make it smaller, just to lessen the effect.

MICHELLE: I keep looking at it, too, as if to remind myself of its utter awfulness. Now I feel compelled to apologize to the readers for exposing them to it.

MJ: Hopefully they will forgive us … and possibly save us from it.

MICHELLE: We can only hope.

A Certain Scientific Railgun, Vol. 1

by

Question: what do you get when you cross Sunshine Sketch with X-Men? Answer: A Certain Scientific Railgun, a story about a quartet of schoolgirl psychics who fight crime, go shopping, and eat parfaits. If that combination sounds like the manga equivalent of a peanut butter and tunafish sandwich, it is; the story see-saws between sci-fi pomposity and 4-koma cuteness, never combining these two very different flavors into an appetizing dish.

The story takes place in Academy City, a metropolis whose entire population consists of psychics and psychics-in-training. After a series of bank robberies and bombings, members of Justification, Academy City’s teen police force, make a disturbing discovery: some psychics — or “espers,” in the series’ parlance — are using an illicit drug called Level Upper to enhance their natural ability. (Level Upper is, in essence, steroids for teleporters and mind-readers.) Though the drug grants them tremendous power, that power comes with a terrible price, causing the user to slip into an irreversible coma. The girls must then track the drug to its source before it can spread through Academy City.

As promising as the plot sounds, it often feels like an afterthought, something that happens in between the principal characters’ trips to the mall, the cafe, and the gym. (There’s an entire scene devoted to one character’s efforts to find the perfect pair of pajamas. No, I’m not kidding.) The lead character, Mikoto, is the strongest and best-defined of the bunch; she’s described as a “level-five esper” capable of channeling up to one billion volts of electricity, a skill she gleefully unleashes on robbers, perverts, and her arch-nemesis, a male psychic named Toma Kamijo. Though Mikoto is an unappealing heroine, she’s the only female character who has a real personality; Mikoto is angry, unpredictable, and stubborn, but she’s also very disciplined, cultivating her skills with practice and study. Kuroko, Ruiko, and Kazari, the remaining members of the quartet, are less developed: each girl has one psychic ability that she uses in combat and one adorable tic that she exhibits while hanging out with friends. (Actually, “adorable” is up for debate; grabbing another girl’s breasts seems more predatory than cute.)

Thin as the characterizations may be, A Certain Scientific Railgun faces an even bigger problem: many important plot elements are poorly explained. Not that the series wants for exposition-dense conversation; the opening ten pages are filled with characters narrating Mikoto’s rise from level-zero nobody to level-five bad-ass. But many other details remain unexplored: who is Toma and why does Mikoto detest him? why do so many characters have supernatural abilities? why has the government created an entire city just for young psychics? Perhaps the most egregious example is Mikoto herself; though we learn a lot about her education, the fact that she’s been cloned is glossed over, as if having six genetic doppelgangers was entirely unremarkable.

Given Railgun‘s origins — it’s a side story within A Certain Magical Index, a long-running light novel series — it’s not surprising that so many of these crucial details remain unexamined; the author might reasonably expect Japanese fans to know the Magical Index universe well enough to jump into Railgun with a minimum of exposition. For a newcomer, however, the experience is frustrating; uninteresting plot points are explored in excruciating detail, while many of the things that seem more fundamental to the story (e.g. the characters’ psychic abilities) are barely addressed at all.

The final chapter suggests that future installments may feature more scenes of crime-solving and fewer scenes of tweenage girls showering, eating desserts, and horsing around. An honest-to-goodness mystery would go a long way towards giving the story some dramatic shape; right now, A Certain Scientific Railgun feels as aimless and airy as a volume of Sunshine Sketch, even if Mikoto and friends have cooler talents than the Sunshine girls.

Review copy provided by Seven Seas. Volume one will be released on June 30, 2011.

A CERTAIN SCIENTIFIC RAILGUN, VOL. 1 • STORY BY KAZUMA KAMACHI, ART BY MOTIO FUYUKAWA • SEVEN SEAS • 192 pp. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Bookshelf Briefs 6/6/11

by , , and 4 Comments

This week, MJ, Kate, David, & Michelle take a look at a variety of manga from Viz Media, Vertical Inc., Digital Manga Publishing, and Yen Press.

 

 

Bakuman, Vol. 5 | By Tsugumi Ohba & Takeshi Obata | Viz Media – The theme for this volume may as well be “Everyone makes progress toward making their dreams come true!” Not that everything is smooth sailing. Mashiro and Takagi finally have a series in Shonen Jump, but along with that comes new editor, Miura, who is rather inexperienced. It takes him some time to gain the confidence to steer the boys in a direction that will keep their series popular with readers. Meanwhile, other friends and rivals aim for the same goal and even Miho experiences a rejuvenation in her dedication to become a voice actress. It’s a thoroughly shounen setup, which is only fitting for a story about making shounen manga. I wish we actually got to see some of this manga they’re creating, though! Maybe in due time… -Michelle Smith

Black Bird, Vol. 8 | By Kanoko Sakurakoji | Viz Media – If there’s one thing that can be said for Kanoko Sakurakoji’s Black Bird, it’s that it stays unflinchingly on message, volume after volume. “Girls, always obey what the menfolk tell you,” it says over and over, in a thousand different ways. “They’re smarter and stronger than you are, so they always know what’s best.” That’s the overwhelming message of this series, though there’s an equally consistent side note attached, “Be grateful and understanding when your man punishes you for your mistakes. After all, it’s for your own good.” Volume eight personifies these messages without fail, as always, with the added bonus of the much-anticipated consummation of Misao and Kyo’s sexual relationship, which is of course preceded by extra gratitude, humility, and expressions of flushed desperation from our heroine. Yay? -MJ

Bleach, Vol. 35 | By Tite Kubo | Viz Media – Despite its status as a hit battle manga, for a reader like me, the best of Bleach exists between battles, when Tite Kubo is able to utilize his (not insignificant) talent for writing quirky, compelling characters. Unfortunately Kubo tends to excess in this area, creating a never-ending stream of brand new characters, leaving less room and page time for those we already love. With that in mind, volume 35 reveals both the best and worst of Kubo’s habits, providing some genuinely satisfying moments with some of our favorite characters while leading us into another series of battles with an array of new foes. If I could deliver one message to Kubo, it would be that when it comes to supporting characters, sometimes less is more. 35 stacks up in the “win” column, but the future looks far less bright. – MJ

Blue Exorcist, Vol. 2 | By Kazue Kato | Viz Media – In discussion of this series’ first volume, I said, ” I’d like to see more … with Rin actually learning the craft under Yukio’s tutelage, because watching the two of them together is the most compelling aspect of the story so far.” The good news here is that we do see more of this, and it indeed remains the series’ greatest strength. The less good news is that the bulk of this volume is spent introducing the class’ other students, including hotheaded Suguro and by-the-book tsundere Izumo. Though there’s obviously a self-formed family of young exorcists being nurtured here, it’s a shame to have so much of the volume’s focus stolen away by it, when we’ve only just begun with the series’ two main characters. Still, this remains the most compelling new shounen series to travel westward this year. I look forward to seeing where it goes from here. – MJ

A Bride’s Story, Vol. 1 | By Kaoru Mori | Yen Press – This is one of those books where I’m convinced I could pass off random page scans as a review, possibly followed up with, “See? See?!” I can’t quite decide if it’s more gorgeous than Mori’s Emma (CMX), but I can say without question that it’s one of the loveliest manga you’re likely to find in current release. It’s also as quietly moving and packed with absorbing details as Emma was, so you really can’t lose. In this tale set in central Asia in the 19th century, a 20-year-old woman enters into an arranged marriage with a 12-year-old boy. We see quietly forceful Amir adapt from her nomadic lifestyle to the more settled state of affairs with her young bridegroom. There’s the whispered promise of an actual plot, but I could read dozens of volumes of nothing but Mori’s meticulously researched, breathtakingly drawn slice of life. Really, what more do you need? -David Welsh

Chi’s Sweet Home, Vol. 6 | By Konami Kanata | Vertical, Inc. – After five volumes of cute kitten antics — including Chi’s first visit to the vet, Chi’s first bath, and Chi’s first excursion beyond the safe confines of home — I thought Kanata Konami would have run out of material. I’m pleased to report that volume six of Chi’s Sweet Home is just as appealing and fresh as the previous installments, offering plenty of awwww-inducing moments as well as some genuinely funny scenes. (Don’t miss the chapter in which Chi stalks a parakeet; Chi’s reaction to the parakeet is priceless.) Konami continues to expand the scope of the story to include more animals, more people, and more settings, neatly mimicking Chi’s growing awareness of her surroundings while preventing the story from becoming too cutely claustrophobic. As in previous volumes, the illustrations are simple but effective, capturing Chi’s surprise and delight in discovering new things: vacuum cleaners, Kleenex, birthday cake. Recommended. -Katherine Dacey

Chi’s Sweet Home, Vol. 6 | By Konami Kanata | Vertical, Inc. – Whenever a new volume of Chi’s Sweet Home comes into my possession it automatically vaults to the top of the to-read pile. The first five volumes all offered colorful, cute, and (mostly) cheerful stores about Chi, an adorable tabby kitten, and the sixth is no exception. Kanata has a knack for depicting scenarios familiar to any cat owner, like massacred houseplants and the species-wide fascination with climbing into boxes, while imagining what the world must look like to a cat. Chi’s nocturnal journey to the local park is a particular standout. My one complaint is that Chi’s owners, the Yamadas, continually do frustrating things like leave cakes unattended and store breakable objects at the top of a flight of stairs, then proceed to freak out when Chi messes with them. You’ve got a cat now, folks. You either put things away or get used to the gnaw marks. -Michelle Smith

Itsuwaribito, Vol. 2 | By Yuuki Iinuma | Viz Media – In this volume, Utsuho proves himself trustworthy to the implausibly youthful Dr. Yakuma by rescuing him from the clutches of a bizarre fellow whom I shall christen “Freaky Dude.” Not only that, he correctly deduces the cause of Freaky Dude’s killing spree and helps him to see the error of his ways. The display convinces Yakuma to invite Utsuho on a journey to Nadeshiko Island, where he suspects a treasure of life-extending medicine awaits. It also happens to be the location of many exiled criminals. I’m still not enraptured by Itsuwaribito, but I found this volume a lot more entertaining than the first. For reasons I cannot quite pinpoint, it reminds me of Black Cat, in a simple shounen adventure kind of way. Plus, there’s an adorable twitchy-eared talking tanuki! I’ll definitely be checking out volume three. -Michelle Smith

Twin Spica, Vol. 7 | By Kou Yaginuma | Vertical, Inc. – In the seventh volume of Twin Spica, Kou Yaginuma explores Marika’s childhood, as well as Marika’s struggle to create her own destiny, rather than the one for which she was created. Though Marika’s story is emotionally compelling, Yaginuma strains too hard to show us that Marika, Asumi, and Fuchuya have a shared history; there’s a tidiness to the connection that feels a little false, as if the characters’ shared memory of the Lion disaster wasn’t grounds enough for bonding. The volume’s final chapters are more dramatically persuasive, giving the three female leads a chance to demonstrate just how smart, resourceful, and tough they can be under duress. N.B. Beginning with volume seven, Vertical will be releasing Twin Spica in a longer omnibus format of 300-400 pages (roughly 1.5 volumes). -Katherine Dacey

Your Story I’ve Known | By Tsuta Suzuki | Juné Manga – It’s rare that I find the sex scenes in a boys’-love title to be the most interesting, but that’s definitely the case in the title story of this book. Suzuki laces the physically intimate moments with intriguing, revealing observations. Unfortunately, those kinds of notes are largely absent in the rest of this tale of a gangster who takes up with the son of one of his ex-girlfriends. It’s drawn well, but the characters and their dynamic aren’t very engaging. The back-up stories compensate for the centerpiece, though. One’s about a young man dealing with his lover’s irritating reticence. Another is a love story between a kid and a goofy, centuries-old ghost. The last describes the awkward early courtship between two salarymen. Each has a distinct, quirky charm, making the book a worthwhile investment overall. -David Welsh

The Science of Doctor Who by Paul Parsons

by

From the front flap:
Almost fifty years after the Doctor first crossed the small screen, he remains a science fiction touchstone. His exploits are thrilling, his world is mind-boggling, and that time travel machine—known as the Tardis—is almost certainly an old-fashioned blue police box, once commonly found in London.

Paul Parsons’s plain-English account of the real science behind the fantastic universe portrayed in the television series answers such burning questions as whether a sonic screwdriver is any use for putting up a shelf, how Cybermen make little Cybermen, where the toilets are in the Tardis, and much more.

(Note: This is the 2010 revision of a book originally published in 2006.)

Review:
I am not a science person. In my years of schooling, I never once came up with a non-lame idea for a science project and was positively abysmal at experiments. I did pretty well on tests and homework, but if someone’s test tube was going to spontaneously erupt in a geyser of brown froth (true story!), it would be mine.

Suffice it to say, then, that while I enjoy science fiction entertainment, it’s not because of the science. Still, The Science of Doctor Who promises “a plain-English account of the real science behind the fantastic universe portrayed in the television series,” so I reckoned on being able to follow it. Alas, Paul Parsons’s definition of plain English is a bit different than mine.

I was okay with the majority of the material. Chapter topics include the Doctor’s recurring foes, regeneration, gadgets, weapons, space stations, force fields, parallel universes, and more. In general, Parsons would start by mentioning something that happened in a particular Doctor Who serial and then interview renowned scientists as to whether this is actually possible. Most of the time the answer is “no” or “only with extreme amounts of energy/effort,” but there are a few things that are not so far off. The chapters on alien worlds (Lots of planets really do have a north!) and mirror planets were particular favorites of mine.

Stupidly, however, I hadn’t counted on there being so much physics! I frequently found my eyes glazing over during these sections, which were unfortunately clustered near the beginning (making it hard to get started) and end (causing a strong urge to set the book down with only forty pages to go) of the book.

Take, for example, this quote from page 35:

M-theory’s main thrust is to generalize the one-dimensional objects of string theory into p-dimensional objects known, amusingly enough, as p-branes (where setting p = 0 gives a particle, p = 1 gives a string, p = 2 a “membrane,” and so on).

My brain’s response: asdlkjasldkfzzt!

Seriously, is that plain English? I note that Parsons did not bother to define “p-dimensional,” though that probably wouldn’t have been much help to me anyway.

In the end, I did learn some interesting things. In the chapter on Cybermen, for example, I learned that a cybernetic brain implant currently exists that can block the signals that cause Parkinson’s disease. That’s pretty awesome! I also now know that Sontarans reproduce by cloning and it takes only ten minutes for their offspring to reach adulthood. That’s less awesome.

I’m glad I didn’t give up on reading The Science of Doctor Who but now I think I’ll give my brain a rest by actually watching some.

Additional reviews of The Science of Doctor Who can be found at Triple Take.

A Spy in the House by Y. S. Lee

by

From the back cover:
Mary Quinn leads a remarkable life. At twelve, an orphan and convicted thief, she was miraculously rescued from the gallows. Now, at seventeen, she has a new and astonishing chance to work undercover for the Agency.

It is May 1858, and a foul-smelling heat wave paralyzed London. Mary enters a rich merchant’s household to solve the mystery of his lost cargo ships. But as she soon learns, the house is full of deceptions, and people are not what they seem—including Mary herself.

Review:
As a convicted thief, twelve-year-old Mary Lang is about to be executed when she is saved by the ladies of Miss Scrimshaw’s Academy for Girls. There, she receives an education and by the age of seventeen is teaching other students the skills they will need to be independent. Trouble is, she’s not satisfied and the few other career options open to her gender don’t interest her much, either. When she mentions this to the two women running the school, they suggest another alternative: the Agency.

The Agency is a covert organization of female spies, operating under the assumption that because women are presumed to be flighty and empty-headed, their agents will be able to retrieve information more easily than a man might, particularly in situations of domestic servitude. Mary quickly agrees, despite the threat of danger, and soon finds herself serving as paid companion to spoiled Miss Angelica Thorold, whose merchant father is suspected of dealing in stolen Hindu goods.

Mary (now using the surname Quinn) isn’t the lead on the investigation and isn’t supposed to actually do much of anything, but she gets antsy, and in the process of snooping meets James Easton. James’s older brother desperately wants to marry Angelica, but James has heard rumors about her father’s business practices, and so is doing some sleuthing of his own to determine whether a family connection would be unwise. He and Mary form a partnership and spend most of the book poking about in warehouses and rest homes for aging Asian sailors and following people on foot or in carriages while maintaining a flirty sort of bickering banter.

Author Y. S. Lee tries to make the mystery interesting, giving us a bit of intrigue between Angelica and her father’s secretary as a distraction, but ultimately it feels very insubstantial to me. Nothing much comes as a surprise and two story elements that could’ve been highlights—Mary’s month-long intensive training and Scotland Yard’s raid on the Thorold house—occur off camera! Too, Mary is harboring a secret about her parentage which is thoroughly obvious: she’s part Asian. Only towards the end did Lee actually make clear that Mary is keeping this a secret from others because of the foreigner bias of the time, and I must wonder whether the intended young adult audience was reading this going, “What’s the big deal?”

Not that it isn’t nifty to have a part-Asian heroine, of course. Mary is competent and level-headed, though I admit I did get irritated by how often she is favorably compared to “ordinary women,” who would scream or faint in situations in which Mary is able to keep her head. When a mystery stars a male sleuth, do we need to hear over and over how much smarter he is than the ordinary fellow? I don’t think so. On the flip side, the overall theme of the book seems to be “don’t understimate women,” and Mary finds time to inspire a scullery maid to seek out Miss Scrimshaw’s and to convince Angelica to pursue a musical career.

In the end, A Spy in the House is a decent read. It’s not perfect, but I still plan to read the second book in the series in the near future.

Additional reviews of A Spy in the House can be found at Triple Take.

Don’t Fear the Adaptation: Ristorante Paradiso

by 9 Comments

Ristorante Paradiso | by Natsume Ono | Manga: Ohta Shuppan / Viz | Anime: David Production / Crunchyroll

Whenever you write a review of Ristorante Paradiso, you always have to get one thing out of the way first: which one is your favorite gentleman? When I read the manga, Luciano was mine, because I fall pretty hard for the gruff types who despite their claims of disinterest can’t help but meddle. And while the anime cemented my love of Luciano, I have to say anime Teo is exactly the handsome aniki I’d fall in love with at Casetta dell’Orso. It helps that he’s a dessert chef, mouthy, and also rides a motorcycle. (Lorenzo is disqualified from my rankings — he’s too perfect and there’s no way to avoid being in love with him and horribly, horribly jealous of Olga.)

Ristorante Paradiso is primarily about Nicoletta, a twenty-one year old determined to exact revenge on her mother Olga, who left Nicoletta behind in order to marry Lorenzo, a restaurant owner in Rome. But when she arrives in Rome, Nicoletta falls in love with Claudio, a waiter at Lorenzo’s restaurant, and ends up staying there as a kitchen apprentice. Like most of Natsume Ono’s stories, it’s a mature slice-of-life production with a slow plot and an ensemble cast filled with enigmatic men and self-assured women. The manga is short at one volume but has a three-volume prequel-sequel entitled Gente: The People of Ristorante Paradiso. The anime mixes and matches the overall Nicoletta-and-Claudio plot of Ristorante Paradiso but detours heavily into the backstories of Gente. The end product is very, very much House of Five Leaves meets Antique Bakery. Why else do you think I pleaded with MJto let me do a Natsume Ono double punch? ;)

Ristorante Paradiso the anime is a feel-good jousei version of a dating game crossed with a butler café. It falls somewhere in between the beloved reverse harem romcoms like Ouran Host Club and the “counseling session of the week” trope of Bartender (which, incidentally, was also adapted into an anime). Like Antique Bakery, Ristorante Paradiso has its moments of drama — some might even argue, melodrama — but it’s one of those series that ultimately boils down to its playful sampling of human life. It’s bursting with little stories about romance, family, growing up, and, well, more romance. There’s a particularly memorable side story about a woman whose husband keeps cheating on her. The dell’Orso staff, especially Gigi and Vito, get involved, and the episode caps off with a very serious, but touching, lesson about marriage and coincidence that even O’Henry would have been proud of. Episode eight and nine owe more to Giuseppe Tornatore than Iron Chef, and episode four, which chronicles the founding of dell’Orso, could be a movie all by itself.

All the characters, especially the gentlemen, get a boost from being animated and paired with a voice actor. Gigi and Lorenzo as twenty-somethings are heartwrenchingly adorable when animated, and Claudio as a young and awkward server trying to find off the amorous intentions of a rich patron will make you swoon. Of special note for me are the relatively unknown Mitsutaka Tachikawa as Luciano and Jin Yamanoi as Claudio. Listening to Yamanoi really makes you believe you’re in the presence of a saint, while Tachikawa’s Luciano is beyond endearing, especially when he growls.

The additional materials from Gente, on top of keeping the anime from having to stretch out one volume’s worth of material into eleven slow episodes, also gives more depth to Nicoletta and her relationship with Claudio. Nicoletta’s observation that love comes in different shapes makes more sense when you get to meet all the significant others of the dell’Orso staff. That they spend more time together and go through a lot more troubles together makes their ending in the anime far sweeter and more conclusive. An unexpected benefit of getting to know Luciano better in the anime was that Claudio, in the process, came into better focus. Their friendship and comparable statuses (Luciano as a widow and Claudio, a divorcee) meant Claudio comes off in the anime as more than just a nice guy. You struggle with him over his idealistic nature, sympathize with his inability to move past his ex-wife Gabrielle, and really, truly wish for his happiness. You feel like you understand just what it is that Nicoletta sees in him.

David Production is a smaller, newer studio compared to Madhouse, the studio responsible for Ono’s other anime adaptation House of Five Leaves. The style in Ristorante Paradiso is less obviously Ono’s this time around, but David Production still did an excellent job translating Ono’s art style. The glimpses of food in the series are mouthwatering, and the shots of the staff’s favorite enoteca, with shelves and shelves of wine bottles, make me want to follow Nicoletta’s journey and spend an extended vacation in Rome. There’s some awkward use of CG as well as a laughable moment in episode six, where if you pause the video in Olga’s office, you can see that the certificate behind her is issued to “Bob Fields”, Cambridge, and qualifies the recipient to teach English to adults. Other than that, the animation is top notch. Episode seven introduces Luciano’s daughter Margherita who is almost indistinguishable from Nicoletta, but that, I think, is more the fault of Ono herself and not the studio’s.

For fans of the manga who were frustrated with the slowness of Ristorante Paradiso‘s first few chapters, but liked Gente‘s character development, the anime is the best of both worlds. (It’s just a terrible shame that Crunchyroll took down their videos.) For those of you who have yet to read the manga, while some have complained that the anime’s flashbacks were too confusing, I would recommend watching the anime over reading the manga. The meshing of Gente with Ristorante Paradiso makes for a fuller, more fleshed out cast and also tempers the ending of Nicoletta’s storyline, which I found unsatisfactorily abrupt when reading the manga. It’s far from realistic, the initial conflict between Olga and Nicoletta is still solved too easily, and very few of the staff’s backstories cover truly original ground. But if you like food, are a people-watcher, or simply enjoy a little romanzo in your life, Ristorante Paradiso welcomes you to Casetta dell’Orso.