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My Week in Manga: January 17-January 23, 2011

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My News and Reviews

The Manga Moveable Feast for Karakuri Odette finished up yesterday. I was pleased to contribute not one, but two posts this time around (three if you count my quick take of the entire series). This probably won’t happen very often, but we’ll see what I can do. My first post was an in-depth review of the first volume of Karakuri Odette. This is the second in-depth manga review for January, so I’ve met my goal for another month, hooray! I also took a closer look at the androids of Karakuri Odette to see how they measured up to Isaac Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics. It’s kind of silly, but I had fun with it.

Did you get a chance to see the live-action Gantz film last week? Or maybe you just heard about it? Or perhaps you have no idea what I’m talking about? Regardless, there’s been an increased interest in the manga series it was based on, so I’ll be giving away a brand new copy of Gantz, Volume 1 by Hiroya Oku. The contest will begin this coming Wednesday, January 26 and will run for a week.

Quick Takes

ES: Eternal Sabbath, Volumes 1-8 by Fuyumi Soryo. I originally read the first four volumes of Eternal Sabbath from the library, but I liked the series so well that I picked up an entire set for myself. Shuro’s development as a character was particularly interesting. Incredibly intelligent and mature for his age, he is inexperienced emotionally and has to come to grips with this. And he isn’t the only character to grow and change throughout the series. The story itself explores some tough moral questions. The ending was a bit abrupt and parts of it were a little disappointing–Soryo probably could have used a couple more volumes finish–but I still really enjoyed the series.

Gantz, Volumes 1-5 by Hiroya Oku. The artwork is gloriously graphic and slightly disconcerting, but I do like it. However, there is bit more fan-service and misogyny than is necessary, although some of it is appropriate to the story. Gantz is dark. Gantz is violent. Gantz is edgy. It’s hard to say where Oku is going to go with the series and what the aim is or if there is some deeper meaning, but so far the examination of the human psyche is very interesting. The willingness that some characters show to participate in a deadly “game” that they don’t even understand is fascinating. I’ll probably keep with the series for a bit longer; I’d really like to know what is going on and there’s a lot of potential.

Sand Chronicles, Volume 10 by Hinako Ashihara. This is the final volume of Sand Chronicles which remains one of my favorite shoujo series. The main story ended with the eighth volume; volume ten is a side story that takes place when the main characters are in their thirties. They still struggle to accept and deal with their pasts which is not at all an easy thing. The emotional authenticity of Sand Chronicles has been one of its highlights throughout the series and the final volume is no exception. It provides a very satisfying conclusion (and continuation) to the series. The focus this time is on Daigo and it’s nice to see a bit more of the story from his perspective.

Under Grand Hotel, Volumes 1-2 by Mika Sadahiro. Incredibly intense, Under Grand Hotel is fiercely passionate and violent. Turn to a random page and you’ll most likely end up in the middle of a sex scene, but I was okay with that. Taking place in an underground prison, the manga is certainly a fantasy but a completely developed one. Sword is the shot-caller at UGH and Sen becomes his cellmate and lover for protection. At first it’s simply a convenient arrangement, but it soon becomes more. It’s not really a romantic love that is fostered, but instead the two men become mutually dependent upon one another and their lives are intertwined to such an extent that they can’t break free.

Departures directed by Yōjirō Takita. Departures won an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in 2009, an honor that is well deserved, among many, many other awards. Daigo lands his dream job as a cellist just before the orchestra is dissolved. (As a fellow “failed” musician, I completely understand what he is going through.) He returns to his hometown and, mostly by chance or fate, becomes the assistant to an encoffiner. It’s a misunderstood a job that isn’t looked well upon, and so he tries to hide it from his wife and is unsure about pursuing it himself. Departures is a beautiful film that faces life and death head on without getting too heavy.

Gantz (World Premiere Live Event) directed by Shinsuke Sato. It was really unfortunate that they decided to screen this with an English dub rather than subtitles. Otherwise, the films seem to be a fairly decent adaptation of the manga so far and the visuals are great. The suits in particular are fantastic. However, for as much action and violence that is in the movie, the pacing seems to drag quite a bit. It also seems to be missing some of the intensity and edge present in the manga. I did enjoy Kenji Kawai’s score and the music was just the right mixture of creepy and driving. The actors did a fine job, particularly Kenichi Matsuyama, and I’m interested in seeing the second part of Gantz when it is released latter this year.

Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight 6 by Jane Espenson: B-

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From the back cover:
Twilight and his gainfully employed military units are hot on Buffy’s magical trail—forcing her and Slayers across the globe into hiding. Buffy retreats into the Tibetan mountains to seek aid from the only person she knows who can suppress his true nature—Oz. Since Oz left Sunnydale he’s gained control over the magic that transforms him with the phases of the moon from man to werewolf. If Buffy, Willow, and the legion of Slayers give up their magic, Twilight might lose their scent, granting them a moment of peace, quiet, and tranquility.

Review:
Before I reread the “Retreat” arc, my memories of it went like this: Buffy and friends go see Oz in Tibet; some huge, brightly colored goddesses are involved; and Buffy discovers that she can fly. Weary of unnecessary cameos—although I genuinely do love Oz—and wary of Buffy’s new ability, I didn’t like this much the first time around.

Though it improves upon a second read, it straddles that line between “what I will agree to consider as canon” and “just somebody’s convoluted fanfic.” Obviously, I know that I am just one opinionated fan among many, but what I’m getting at is that some stuff happens that I genuinely like, and some stuff happens that I’m not crazy about.

After their castle in Scotland was destroyed by a magical bomb, courtesy of Twilight’s minions, Amy and Skinless Warren, the Slayers have been looking for new digs. Public opinion is against them, thanks to Harmony’s current popularity, so they find a secluded sort of bunker, shielded by a woodsy magical illusion. Alas, Twilight hones in on this magic and attacks again, causing them to teleport to the one person they know who has successfully divested himself of magic: Oz.

It’s good to see Oz again, don’t get me wrong, but I’d be happier about it if his return hadn’t come after lesser characters like Ethan Rayne and Dracula. He’s settled down with a “mate” and has a child, and one of the saddest things about this arc is how Buffy descends upon his peaceful life, bringing war and death along with her once Twilight tracks them down yet again.

But before that happens, there’s a peaceful lull during which the Slayers and Willow participate in various chants and physical chores designed to direct their magical powers into the Earth. This allows plenty of time for character-building moments and amusing dialogue, my favorite being the interaction between Giles and the baby. Like so:

Baby: Ga!
Giles: Yes, hello, baby.

and

Baby: (steals Giles’ glasses) Gaha!
Giles: Oh dear.

On a more serious note, Buffy finally tells her friends about her encounter with Dark Willow in the future, which prompts some interesting reactions. Willow confidently swears it couldn’t possibly have been her, but meanwhile, Giles and Andrew are suspicious—especially given Willow’s dark methods of obtaining intel—and begin watching her. Also, just as Buffy begins to ponder wanting to connect with someone, and begins to think Xander might just fit the bill, he and Dawn finally get around to smooching. I might be in the minority here, but I like this pairing, especially since they’ve been shown to have developed a very solid friendship. Given her track record, it’s hard to say whether Buffy’s feelings are genuine or if she’s just lonely.

And speaking of Buffy and decision-making, it’s her choices that have ultimately led to a terrible massacre. True, there were no good alternatives, but she’s entirely responsible for bringing ruin to Oz’s tranquil existence, first by making his home a target for Twilight and his minions, then turning its environs into a battlefield, and finally by summoning some local goddesses—those to whom all that poured-into-the-earth magic was actually going—who kill indiscriminately. As with the Xander situation, this is not out of character for Buffy at all—part of why she’s lovable is that, even though she’s special, hers is an extremely tough role that nobody would envy—but it’s pretty depressing all the same.

I also have trouble believing that anyone thought getting rid of magical defenses—which includes the Slayers’ strength—would be a good idea when they are the target of a massive military operation. I suppose there was the chance that it would keep them hidden, but it doesn’t seem like they bothered to fully investigate the ramifications. A scene in which automatic weapons and grenades are passed out is just really weird, given Whedon’s stance on guns throughout the series.

Although I have issues with it, this arc is ultimately better than I remembered. Most of the fallout from Xander and Dawn and Buffy’s superpowers will come in the next volume, which is a plus, but there will be much crack, as well.

From the stack: Arisa vol. 1

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I wasn’t particularly kind to the work of Natsumi Ando the other day. While I don’t retract anything I said about Wild @ Heart (Del Rey), I’m happy to be able to express a different opinion about Ando’s Arisa. The first volume introduces a tense, observant mystery, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ando’s art look better.

Much as I love shôjo that traffics in comedy, romance, and fantasy, I have a weakness for detective fiction, particularly when it features an amateur sleuth. In Arisa, a young girl investigates the attempted suicide of her twin sister by assuming her identity, and she quickly finds that her twin’s seemingly perfect life had some decidedly dark undertones.

Spunky tomboy Tsubasa and demure princess Arisa have been separated for years by their parents’ divorce. They’ve kept in touch through letters, and they arrange a secret meeting to catch up in person. Tsubasa, whose quick temper and loose tongue have limited her social circle, admires Arisa’s femininity and popularity. Arisa gives Tsubasa the chance to live her perfect life for a day – class president, tons of friends, cute boyfriend, the works. Arisa is brokenhearted when Tsubasa doesn’t see through the façade, and Tsubasa is devastated when Arisa tries to end her own life.

Tsubasa decides to continue the impersonation to try and find out what could have driven Arisa to this desperate act. She begins to unravel the creepy secrets of Arisa’s seemingly cheerful, friendly class, putting herself in danger but charging forward because it’s the right thing to do. The students’ secrets are genuinely unnerving, but Tsubasa seems up to the challenge of deciphering them. She faces real danger, even in the seemingly benign school setting, but she’s tough and a quick thinker.

The script has the kind of darkness and ambition that I found lacking in Wild @ Heart, really digging into the ways that kids can have dark sides but finding a fresh, contemporary take on the subject. Better still, Ando’s illustrations are stripped down for the occasion. If your experience with her drawing is limited to Kitchen Princess, you might be surprised that Arisa is by the same artist. Character design is sleeker and less aggressively endearing. The angles in the page compositions are sharper and more challenging. Even the application of screen tone, while still lavish, is more targeted and restrained in terms of choices.

It’s always nice to see a creator stretch her muscles and try something different, and it’s even better to see her succeed in the attempt. Arisa really seems like a great coalescence of Ando’s evident raw talent into something stronger and more balanced, and the fact that it’s a promising, emotionally complex mystery is a welcome bonus. I’m eager to see what happens next.

(These comments are based on a review copy provided by the publisher. Del Rey released the first volume in 2010, and Kodansha will pick up the series in May of this year. It’s currently running in Kodansha’s Nakayoshi.)

Meh manga

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Earlier this week, Kate Dacey examined the concept of “meh” as it relates to critical discourse. Conveniently enough, I’ve just finished trudging through two titles that fall squarely in the “meh” range. Neither is especially bad, but neither transcends competence or adds any secret ingredient that makes them linger in the memory or heart.

Both are shôjo titles from Del Rey’s defunct manga line, so it may seem a little harsh to dissect them, but I liked Kate’s piece and the ensuing discussion so much that my mind is stuck in “meh” mode, and I need to push these books out of my system by taking quick looks at their respective – and admittedly routine — failures.

First is Natsumi Ando’s Wild @ Heart, a done-in-one collection of a three-volume series from Kodansha’s Nakayoshi. I was a big fan of Kitchen Princess, Ando’s collaboration with Miyuki Kobayashi, but the primary strength of that series is the often surprisingly dark writing. Wild @ Heart is on the fluffy end of the spectrum, an innocent romance with a reasonably promising sitcom premise. It’s about an average junior high school girl whose explorer father brings home a feral boy he met on his travels. Will Chino be able to look past Hyo’s uncivilized behavior to form a friendship, or perhaps even more? The answer to this question, and to all questions Ando poses in this series, is unfortunately “Of course.”

Maybe it’s the result of reading the whole thing at once rather than bit by bit, but Hyo’s civilization seems to happen too quickly. The earlier chapters, with Hyo bouncing around in his school uniform (when he can be bothered to keep it on) have some funny bits, but things level out too quickly, and he becomes an only slightly off-kilter cute boy. Even before he settles down, he’s so good-hearted that Chino’s resistance seems perfunctory and even snobbish.

But the ultimate failing here is that the ending is telegraphed. There’s no suspense in the evolution of the relationship, moving from beat to beat in predictable, almost plodding rhythm. Ando’s art has always struck me as a more coherent version of Arina Tanemura’s. The coherence is welcome, even if the volume of screen tone is equivalent, but Ando’s kind of visual cuteness badly needs some narrative darkness or edge for counterpoint. It reinforces the bland sweetness of the story rather than subverting it, and vice versa.

Ema Toyama’s I Am Here! at least has its heart in the wrong place. In it, we meet an overlooked, isolated girl who’s encouraged to make real-world friends and assert herself by the readers of her blog. Hikage falls into a category of character that Mitch of Blogfonte winningly described as “Asperger Sue.” The efforts of socially inept characters to engage can result in manga that’s funny or moving or both, but I Am Here! is hobbled by the work’s flat sincerity.

Hikage is just so blandly sweet and earnest that it’s hard to invest much interest in her plight. I found myself reaching the uncharitable conclusion that she’s not more popular because she’s kind of a bore. Neither her desire to connect with people nor the obstacles to that goal feel very specific; she’s just a person who fades into the background, and that doesn’t even feel particularly unfair. She’s less of an underdog than a charity case — a nice, nondescript girl who can’t quite do the heavy lifting of a protagonist.

Complicating things is the fact that her rivals seem just plain mean. The notion of someone being threatened enough by this homeless kitten reduces them to overreacting, insecure caricatures. This is always a tricky balance, crafting nuanced foes for an openhearted innocent, and Toyama doesn’t manage to strike it.

Toyama is scrupulous in mapping out Hikage’s steps out of the shadows. She’s trying to do the hard work of building investment in Hikage’s evolution, but the formula of this kind of story overwhelms any spark that might be generated by quirky characters or scenarios. It ends up reading more like a “How to Be Popular” manual than an organic story.

This book collects the first two volumes of the five of the series, which ran in Kodansha’s Nakayoshi. The remaining volumes are on Kodansha’s publishing schedule for this year.

(These comments are based on review copies provided by the publisher.)

LIVES, Vol. 1

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Everything you need to know about LIVES is summed up by the following category tags: “big breasts,” “meteor,” “stranded,” “strategically torn clothing,” and “survival.” (Kudos to the Baka-Updates moderator who felt the need to give “strategically torn clothing” its due as a category. But what, no “hungry predators”?)

Plot-wise, LIVES resembles Battle Royale, Gantz, and King of Thorn in using a catastrophic event — in this case, a meteor shower — to deposit normal people into a hostile environment — here, a dense jungle inhabited by carnivorous monsters. It doesn’t take long for the refugees to discover the particularly nasty secret behind these beasties: they were originally human beings as well, and some can still transform back into their bipedal selves, with no memory of terrorizing their fellow survivors.

Art-wise, Taguchi delivers the goods, with scene after scene of expertly staged carnage. His monsters are perhaps a little too neat, lightbox chimaeras that originated in the pages of National Geographic, but they’re agile and vicious enough to be convincing. His humans also offer balm for tired eyes: the hero, Shingo, has abs that would shame The Situation’s, and the harem of doe-eyed, big-bosomed ladies wear just enough clothing to prevent the story from shading into pornography. (In a hilarious touch, all of the women’s shoes are in immaculate condition, even though their tops and skirts have been reduced to scraps. Paging Imelda Marcos!)

What’s missing is subtext. LIVES is the umpteenth manga to suggest when man lives in a “state of nature” — no rulers, no rules of law — that a “war of all against all” prevails, creating an environment where lives are “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” While other manga-ka have attempted to explore what happens to the human psyche when all social constraints disappear, Masayuki Taguchi focuses exclusively on those consequences that Thomas Hobbes forget to mention in The Leviathan: costume failures, near-rapes, faintly incestuous relationships, and hyper-violent showdowns between monsters and would-be meals. There’s nothing wrong with carnage and cheesecake; I’m all for brainless fun. But when the narrative falls into an all-too-predictable pattern of grope-chase-chomp-regroup in the very first volume, a little subtext goes a lot farther than a cool monster or a torn shirt in making things interesting.

Review copy provided by Tokyopop. Volume one will be released on February 1, 2011.

LIVES, VOL. 1 • BY MASAYUKI TAGUCHI • TOKYOPOP • 196 pp. • RATING: MATURE (18+)

I Wish I Wrote That!

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Welcome to the first I Wish I Wrote That of 2011! I’ve got a great batch of writing to share with you this month, which is a pretty great way to start off the year.

First off, today’s main attraction is a wonderful essay posted just last night, the latest in Jason Thompson‘s “House of 1000 Manga,” this time featuring Swan.

Published incompletely in English by the now-defunct CMX, Swan is one of those manga I am trying my hardest to collect before the volumes become so scarce that they all go for $300 apiece from skeevy Amazon sellers. I haven’t yet made it to the double-digits, something that reading Jason’s essay makes me deeply regret. Almost nobody can make me want to read a manga the way that Jason Thompson can (which is why I went immediately broke after the release of Manga: The Complete Guide), and the way he talks about Swan, I expect my bank account will suffer again. A quote:

“I didn’t expect that a shojo manga about ballet would be one of the most fiery-spirited shonen manga I’ve read in the last few years. Blood and sweat, competition, agonizing training sequences — these are things that are more common in boys’ manga, but Swan transfers them to the ballet and somehow makes it a perfect fit. It’s a mixture of rivalry and hard work, art and elegance; a combination of yûjô, doryoku, bigaku … I don’t know if this is just stereotypes, but judging purely from Swan, Japanese girls in 1976 were 10 times more badass than men in most countries today.”

Jason’s maybe not as “quotable” as some snarkier manga critics–I’m not doubled over with laughter when I read even his funniest lines. The beauty of his writing is found in the whole, and the whole is what must be read. I wish I wrote that!

A few other terrific links:

Khursten Santos has a new review up at Otaku Champloo, for est em’s gorgeous BL anthology, Red Blinds the Foolish. “There was a time when I used to dream of Spanish fiestas. La Tomatina. Hogueras de San Juan. San Isidro de Madrid. Corrida de toros. And I did not dream of this because my country, the Philippines, used to be a Spanish colony. My fascination with it lies in the romance of the activity. There was something beautiful and romantic with the order that comes with the chaos of a fiesta.”

At The Manga Critic, Kate Dacey reworked a older review of Taiyo Matsumoto’s Blue Spring, and the result is beautifully descriptive: “Matsumoto eschews linear narrative in favor of digressions and fragments; as a result, we feel more like we’re living in the characters’ heads than reading a tidy account of their actions. Snatches of daydreams sometimes interrupt the narrative, as do jump cuts and surreal imagery: sharks and puffer fish drift past a classroom window where two teens make out, a UFO languishes above the school campus. Even the graffiti plays an integral part of Matsumoto’s storytelling; the walls are a paean to masturbation, booze, and suicide, cheerfully urging ‘No more political pacts–sex acts!'”

This one’s going to get super-meta, but in my very first incarnation of this column, I praised Shaenon Garrity’s essay about Cathy Guisewite’s Cathy. Today, Noah Berlatsky did the same at The Hooded Utilitarian, and dammit, his is better than mine. “Ultimately, though, while I appreciate the insight into my own animosities, what really made this perhaps my favorite piece of the year was the insight into Shaenon’s affections … the piece is filled with affection, and indeed love. That love is directed precisely at Cathy’s fans; the Baby Boomer women. Among those women is Shaenon’s mother…and Cathy Guisewite herself.”

And speaking of Shaenon Garrity, her latest post at comiXology, about Neil Gaiman’s Sandman makes me want to finally finish the series, which I had loved until I got too bogged down in the visual overload of its ever-changing artwork. “I dreaded rereading Sandman because it was the comic that got me hooked on comic books, when I was a nerdy teenager who hung out with the goths and followed them to Kent State coffeehouses on Friday nights, and there was no way it could possibly live up to my memories. The Dark Knight Returns didn’t; the art’s still amazing, but all of Batman’s monologues now sound like they’re about butt sex, and the fact that I can’t read them without giggling indicates that I’ve somehow gotten more juvenile since I was sixteen.” Or maybe I just want to read more Shaenon.

That’s what I wish I wrote this month! Readers, what about you?

License Request Day: Akuma to Dolce

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I’ll confess that I wasn’t familiar with the work of Julietta Suzuki before the announcement of the current Manga Moveable Feast. My mixed history with aspirational robotic fiction didn’t make Karakuri Odette an insta-buy, and my standoffishness towards reedy boys with more than one set of ears, while not yet the stuff of legend, is at least strong enough to make me look askance at Kamisama Kiss (Viz). But I do like what I’ve read of Karakuri Odette, and reliable sources have reassured me that Kamisama Kiss is a pleasant diversion.

As is the way of things (with me, at least), I’m disproportionately excited about a Suzuki series that has yet to be licensed. This is because Erica (Okazu) Friedman mentioned that her wife is very fond of Suzuki’s Akuma to Dolce. I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting Erica’s wife, but I’ve divined the fact that our tastes in shôjo are eerily similar. (Never underestimate the bond formed by a shared love for V.B. Rose.)  Add to this the fact that I really like comics about people who bake, and my anticipation becomes more pronounced.

It’s apparently about a girl with an aptitude for both magic and cooking. She inadvertently summons a powerful demon who, conveniently enough, will do just about anything for a sweet treat. From there, I would imagine that standard but charming, slightly idiosyncratic shôjo antics ensue. And this is sometimes all I require from a series.

Akuma to Dolce is currently running in Hakusensha’s The Hana to Yume, which is not to be confused with Hana to Yume, the magazine home to all of her major works to date. There are two volumes available thus far.

Speaking of yet-to-be-licensed manga about people who make dessert, Alexander (Manga Widget) Hoffman conducts a thorough investigation of Setona Mizushiro’s Un Chocolatier de l’Amour Perdu, which was recently nominated for a Manga Taisho Award.

3 Things Thursday: ‘ships ahoy!

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So, I used to be in fandom. No, I mean, Fandom. The kind with a capital “F.” Of course, anyone who’s ever been in Fandom knows that this means I used to read and write a whole lot of fanfiction. The less said about most of that now, the better, but somewhere around the New Year, I got a bit nostalgic and revisited my old writing. It was a fairly horrifying exercise, all told, but I came out of it all remembering just how much I enjoy ‘ships, and I don’t necessarily mean heavy-duty One True Pairing-type ‘ships (though I did have those from time-to-time), but more often the obscure, quiet, barely fannish ‘ships. I love the tiny, off-screen pairing whose story never gets told, the Big Fandom non-canon pairing with maybe three active fans, or the super-duper Big Time pairing… in a fandom with only three fans.

While it’s unlikely I’ll ever return to Fandom with the kind of zeal I once had, the whole thing got me thinking… what would I read now? Now that I read no fanfiction at all, is there any kind of ‘ship so compelling I’d throw aside everything in my too-busy day to read it? It just might be possible, I thought. And so I give you…

3 pieces of fanfiction I might actually read

1. Twin Spica | Mr. Lion/Yuko Suzunari | Kou Yaginuma | Vertical, Inc – One of my very favorite things about Twin Spica is the existence of Mr. Lion, first introduced as Asumi’s imaginary friend, and then later as the ghost of a young man who died in the tragic crash of the Lion space shuttle. The series’ first volume includes some of Mr. Lion’s backstory, including his romance with a young woman named Yuko Suzunari, who, years later, ends up being Asumi’s elementary school teacher. Though Mr. Lion intended to propose to Yuko, he never got the chance before he died.

There are any number of stories I might like to read about this couple, ranging anywhere from additional backstory depicting them as students to a bittersweet reunion that can never be made real. They’re a perfect fit for fanfiction, really, with just enough existing story to get a handle on the characters, but with so little actually written, there’s plenty of ground to cover.

2. One Fine Day | No-Ah/Aileru | Sirial | Yen Press – After finishing volume two of this whimsical children’s manhwa, I went directly to Twitter and said something like, “If nobody is writing No-Ah/Aileru fanfic, I don’t know what Fandom’s been doing with its time.” At least one person expressed horror over my statement at the time, but come on. There hasn’t been a pairing more obvious since Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

Again, this pairing could really go anywhere, and they have the advantage of being both “friends” and antagonists, depending on when you catch them. Magical powers don’t hurt either, though I’m not a big fan of overdoing that sort of thing. I’d enjoy anything from a sweet domestic scene to an out-and-out magician fight between these two. And Sirial keeps drawing them prettier and prettier, so I know it’s not just me. ;)

3. Flower of Life | Yamane/Sakai | Fumi Yoshinaga | Digital Manga Publishing – So, despite the fact that Sakai’s boyfriend clearly suspects that his girlfriend is having a crush (“Are you a lesbian?” he even asks her outright at one point), it’s possible Yoshinaga would say I am making this one up. Still, these two are adorable in their little side story in which slovenly Sakai borrows a beloved book from mature, meticulous Yamane.

Though something set in the same time-frame as the manga could certainly be sweet, I actually think I’d prefer future-fic here, with the two meeting up as adults, or perhaps in later college years. I’d like to see how both of them might grow up–especially Yamane who appears so grown-up even in high school. I can imagine the story already, really… like the reunion of the two women near the beginning of Antique Bakery, only this time Tachibana might be right. Hey, maybe it’s a Yoshinaga crossover!

Okay, I’ve indulged myself enough here, I think.

So, readers, if you did read fanfiction, what fanfiction would you like to read? Or maybe you could write me some comment-fic? :D

From the stack: Sand Chronicles vols. 9 and 10

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If Hinako Ashihara had contented herself with the conclusion of the main story of Sand Chronicles (Viz) in the eighth volume, I don’t think most fans of the series could have reasonably complained. We’ve seen our heroine, Ann Uekusa, grow from pre-teen to woman, through a stormy adolescence packed with setbacks, disappointments, and rewarding steps forward toward maturity. Ann’s is a fully realized character arc, one of the most complete you’re likely to find in comics.

I’m a bit of a glutton, and I’m a sucker for side stories, so I was thrilled to learn that there were two more volumes of material, checking in with supporting characters and giving readers a look at Ann’s life after “happily ever after.”

In the ninth volume, Ashihara gives us a glimpse into the troubled adolescence of Ann’s mother, whose beauty and gentleness make her the object of jealousy and the subject of rumor in her very small town. As tricky as the core conceit of the story can be – she’s too pretty and fragile for this world – Ashihara grounds it with surprising skill. It highlights the underlying emotional brutality that bubbles up in Ashihara’s work, and while it doesn’t fully excuse Ann’s mother’s later choices, it does give those choices additional context.

The second half is given to a chance encounter between Ann’s friend and rival, Shika, and one of Ann’s exes as they build lives for themselves in New York City. Given the tendency of some shôjo mangaka to exile the ostensible bad girl to a faraway land where she can build a new and better life – you generally see her in a panel, reading a letter from the heroine, who has graciously forgiven her – it’s nice to see that new life in detail. It’s a generous impulse, and it results in a sweet, redemptive encounter for the characters involved.

The tenth volume returns us to our heroine, Ann, and her true love. I’m reluctant to go into too much detail, since who that true love turns out to be is a significant plot point through the series, but the volume-length story shows us the satisfying adult relationship that evolved from turbulent, youthful love. We see Ann’s partner adapt to adult responsibilities, and we see her as a supportive, functioning person, which is a lovely gift to longtime readers.

Aside from being gracefully written and beautifully drawn, these volumes repay patience and investment that resulted not from flash but from sincerity and craft. It’s like a sumptuous brunch the morning after the wedding of a couple you rooted for but were never quite certain would make it to “I do.” They’re essential reading for fans of Sand Chronicles, and they’re additional inducement to read the series from beginning to end if you haven’t already.

Off the Shelf: Karakuri Odette

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MICHELLE: Hello, Off the Shelf readers! MJand I are devoting this week’s column to Karakuri Odette, the topic for this month’s Manga Moveable Feast hosted at Manga Report. I had read some of this series before the MMF was announced, but MJnever had. That has since been rectified!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MICHELLE: I agree. :)

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

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

MICHELLE: I can’t quarrel with that!

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

Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers by Grant Naylor: B

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Book description:
The first lesson Lister learned about space travel was you should never try it. But Lister didn’t have a choice. All he remembered was going on a birthday celebration pub crawl through London. When he came to his senses again, he was living in a locker on one of Saturn’s moons, with nothing in his pockets but a passport in the name of Emily Berkenstein.

So he did the only thing he could. Amazed to discover they would actually hire him, he joined the Space Corps—and found himself aboard Red Dwarf, a spaceship as big as a small city that, six or seven years from now, would get him back to Earth. What Lister couldn’t foresee was that he’d inadvertently signed up for a one-way jaunt three million years into the future—a future which would see him the last living member of the human race, with only a hologram crewmate and a highly evolved Cat for company. Of course, that was before the ship broke the light barrier and things began to get really weird…

Review:
Red Dwarf: Infinity Welcomes Careful Drivers retells a handful of episodes from the first two seasons of the BBC sci-fi comedy, Red Dwarf, and provides additional background information on its two main characters, priggish Arnold J. Rimmer and slovenly Dave Lister.

For those unfamiliar with the show, it takes place aboard the mining ship Red Dwarf. Rimmer is a lowly technician—just about the lowest rank on the ship, tasked with things like unclogging chicken soup nozzles on vending machines—and his only underling is Lister. While Lister is in stasis as punishment for smuggling a (pregnant) cat on board, Rimmer causes an accident that floods the ship with radiation, killing the entire crew.

It takes three million years for the radiation to reach levels safe enough for the computer to let Lister out, which triggers an iconic scene wherein Lister wanders around while the computer, Holly, repeats, “Everybody’s dead, Dave,” with varying inflections until the Liverpudlian finally gets it. Holly brings Rimmer back as a hologram, judging him to be the companion best suited to keep Lister sane, and they soon discover that the cat’s descendants have evolved into a highly fashion-conscious civilization, of which only one member now remains. Episodic silliness ensues.

The book follows this basic outline, too, but adds some scenes to flesh out the characters. For example, rather than meeting Rimmer and Lister aboard the ship, we first encounter them on Mimas, one of Saturn’s moons, in a scene in which Lister has stolen the equivalent of a taxi and picks Rimmer up as a fare. We learn that Lister joined the Space Corps solely as a means of getting back to Earth—and purposefully got caught with the cat so that he’d be put in stasis and the journey home would feel shorter—and receive additional insight on Rimmer’s desperation to become an officer. Both benefit from this treatment and emerge as more sympathetic characters.

Not every episode from the first two seasons is represented—Lister isn’t shown taking the chef’s exam in order to outrank Rimmer, for example—but some, like “Future Echoes,” are included almost verbatim. Because of this structure, there’s not so much a cohesive plot as a string of linear events, culminating in the crew believing that they’ve managed to return to Earth. The material, both old and new, provides quite a few giggles, but can also be extremely unfunny, like when Rimmer and his holographic double squabble interminably.

In addition, a few changes have been made that outright contradict the show. The captain, once male, is now female. Although Lister never was able to tell his long-time crush, Kristine Kochanski, about his feelings on the show, in the book they enjoy a month-long fling. There’s no obvious reason for these alterations, but it’s better to think Grant Naylor—the pseudonym adopted by the show’s creators, Rob Grant and Doug Naylor—made them for some purpose rather than merely by accident.

What this all boils down to is that the content of this book is decently entertaining, though not excellent, and probably deserves somewhere in the vicinity of a B-, which is the grade it likely would have received had I read the print edition. But I didn’t. Instead, Hubby and I listened to the unabridged audiobook read by Chris Barrie (the actor who portrayed Rimmer) and holy freakin’ crap! He was amazing!

Okay, true, Barrie mispronounces the occasional word—“irrevocably” being the most egregious—but his skill in impersonating his castmates is truly incredible. So good, in fact, that I found myself thinking, “I can’t wait until they discover Cat so I can hear Chris Barrie do his voice!” Every single one is great, and though Kryten is perhaps the most eerily accurate, I found myself most transported by Barrie’s take on Lister. Many, many times I forgot that I was not actually listening to Craig Charles in the part.

Barrie’s performance bumps the grade up a notch, and I’d go so far as to say that one should eschew the print edition entirely. He really does bring that much to one’s enjoyment of the book.

The Seinen Alphabet: Y

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“Y” is for…

The Yagyu Ninja Scrolls: Revenge of the Hori Clan (Del Rey), written and illustrated by Masaki Segawa, based on a novel by Futaro Yamada. This super-violent revenge tale is a sequel to Basilisk (Del Rey), also by Segawa, based on a novel by Yamada. It ran in Kodansha’s Young Magazine. Other manga adaptations of Yamada’s work include Yagyuujuubee Shisu (with Ken Ishikawa) and Yama Fu-Tang (also with Segawa).

Yubisaki Milk Tea (Tokyopop), written and illustrated by Tomochika Miyana, originally serialized in Hakusensha’s Young Animal. It’s about the life and loves of a young cross-dresser.


Yakushiji Ryōko no Kaiki Jikenbo, written and illustrated by Narumi Kakinouchi, based on a series of light novels by Yoshiki Tanaka, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Magazine Z, now in Afternoon. It’s about a talented police detective who investigates cases related to the paranormal.

Yama Onna Kabe Onna, written and illustrated by Atsuko Takakura, currently serialized in Kodansha’s Evening. It’s about two women, co-workers who become friends in spite of their different personalities and breast sizes. No, seriously, it is. The title apparently translates to “Mountain Woman, Wall Woman.”

Yawara! A Fashionable Judo Girl, written and illustrated by Naoki Urasawa, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Big Comic Spirits. It’s about a naturally talented martial artist who initially hates judo because of her grandfather’s pressure to excel in the discipline.

Yokohama Kaidashi Kikô, written and illustrated by Hitoshi Ashinano, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Afternoon. Pretty much everyone in the world wonders why this slice-of-life science-fiction tale hasn’t been published in English.

Yugo, written by Shinji Makari and illustrated by Shuu Akana, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Afternoon. It’s about a master negotiator and mediator who travels the world to defuse tense hostage situations.

Yume Tsukai, written and illustrated by Riichi Ueshiba, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Afternoon. Honestly, this sounds like a seinen answer to Sailor Moon. It’s about a group of “Dream Agents” who fight physical manifestations of nightmares born of the darkness in human hearts. I couldn’t find a satisfactory cover image for it, to be honest.

Speaking of much-desired titles that have yet to be licensed, and moving on to mangaka, there’s always Fumi Yoshinaga’s first foray into seinen, What Did You Eat Yesterday?

Ryoko Yamagishi is one of the members of the Year 24 Group who has worked in the seinen category in addition to shôjo. Her seinen works include Hakuganshi.

Hideo Yamamoto is the creator of Homunculus, which is about a person who gains extra-sensory powers after a hole is drilled in his skull.

Yoshikazu Yasuhiko has had a rangy career, from early works like Dirty Pair to examinations of Joan of Arc and Jesus.

Mitsuteru Yokoyama is quite an influential mangaka, who has worked in virtually every category, from shôjo to seinen. He was a Tezuka contemporary who is credited with breaking ground in the giant robot and magic girl categories.

There are also seven million magazines whose titles start with “Young.” These include:

  • Kadokawa Shoten’s Young Ace, home to the great Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service.
  • The aforementioned Young Animal, which has hosted both wonderful and terrible manga.
  • The aforementioned Young Magazine, which seems much more traditionally seinen than Kodansha’s Afternoon, Evening and Morning.
  • And Shônen Gahosha’s Young King OURs, which seems to favor action/adventure/fantasy titles.

And “Y” is for Yen Press, which hasn’t published a ton of seinen yet, but they’ve already picked at least one potentially magnificent title in that category (Kaoru Mori’s A Bride’s Story).

What starts with “Y” in your seinen alphabet?

Manhwa Monday: holiday quick links

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Excerpt from Sunjeong Manhwa Chapter 8Welcome to another Manhwa Monday! It’s been a quiet week on the manhwa front, so there are just a few quick links to share on this American holiday.

It’s Martin Luther King Jr. day here in the US, and The Korean has a message for his Asian-American readers today.

Our friends at iSeeToon have unveiled a new front page design for their blog, with easy access to their currently available (and in-progress) iOS manhwa apps, as well as their series on types of manhwa. They are actively looking for feedback on pretty much all these things, so please let them know how you think they’re doing!

This week’s manhwa news is nearly all live-action news, with HANCINEMA posting the newest Priest trailer, and Dramabeans sharing casting info for the new drama adaptation of Kang Pool’s Pain. Kang Pool is also the author of Sunjeong Manhwa, reviewed by Hana Lee in her introduction to Korean webcomics, and pictured here in this entry.

At Manga-Market.com, tomnomnom joins the legions who attempt to explain “What is manhwa?”

This week in reviews, Todd Douglass at Anime Maki takes a look at volume 11 of Korean-created Black God (Yen Press). And at Panel Patter, Rob McMonigal talks about Korea as Viewed by 12 Creators (Fanfare/Ponent-Mon).

That’s all for this week!

Is there something I’ve missed? Leave your manhwa-related links in comments!

MMF: Karakuri Odette vols. 1-3

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The genre of stories about robots who want to learn what it is to be human is large, so it’s only reasonable that I would have a spectrum of reactions to its various examples. I’ve read exactly as much of Osamu Tezuka’s Astro Boy (Dark Horse) as I feel like I need to read, in spite of the fact that it’s by Tezuka. Naoki Urasawa’s revamp of Astro Boy and his robot associates in Pluto (Viz) was a pleasure to read from beginning to end, in spite of my general aversion to dark retellings of more innocent properties.

The Vision was always one of my favorite members of the Avengers (Marvel), but I always found the Justice League’s Red Tornado (DC) to be kind of ridiculous and whiny. I was pleasantly surprised by the gentle intelligence of Yuu Asami’s A.I. Revolution (Go! Comi), or at least what circumstances allowed me to read of it, but I could barely manage to sit through Steven Spielberg’s A.I. I’ve never been able to finish either CLAMP’S Chobits (Dark Horse) or Yuu Watase’s Absolute Boyfriend (Viz), since “built to love you” stories make me a little queasy.

To make a long story short, the genre isn’t a slam dunk for me like some others are. Julietta Suzuki’s Karakuri Odette (Tokyopop), the subject of the current Manga Moveable Feast being hosted by Anna at Manga Report, lands comfortably in the pro column of this kind of tale. It’s gentle, smart, and funny. I’ve read the first three volumes, and I’ll certainly read the rest.

It begins with Odette, a highly lifelike robot, telling her creator that she’d like to go to school like humans do. There isn’t anything mawkish or aspirational about her decision, and her rather blank bluntness is instantly winning. She never declares that she wants to be a real girl, and she doesn’t really make much of an effort to pass as one. Odette isn’t about pretense; she’s more focused on gaining experience and understanding, which is a promising starting point.

Her athletic prettiness works in her favor as a character. She’s not some robot-girl bombshell, looking instead like an averagely attractive teen-ager. It negates the possibility that she’s a grosser kind of toy, cutting off some of the more unsavory possibilities of this kind of story. You can be reasonably certain that she was created in the pursuit of a scientific exercise rather than to fit the maid’s costume, if that makes sense. And she’s perfectly capable of defending herself; she’s an innocent, but she’s unlikely to ever be a victim.

With an engaging protagonist in place, Suzuki surrounds Odette with interesting, in-scale people. The professor who made her is generally benevolent though not fully parental in his relationship with Odette. Her classmates ostensibly don’t know that she’s a robot, but they certainly know she’s different from the average student, and their general reaction is to find things that they like about her differences rather than viewing her as an object of pity or ridicule. They’re willing teachers, even if they don’t realize that’s what they’re doing.

Without knowing she’s doing it, Odette sets off a sort of mutating romantic geometry. Her frail best friend, Yoko, likes a boy who seems to kind of like her in return, but Yoko is admired by bad-boy Asao. He forms a brotherly relationship with Odette, whose blanket approval of and interest in Asao cause people to question their assessments of his character. Other characters phase in and out of the romantic undercurrents without Odette ever really realizing what’s going on, though she’s trying. (A sweet recurring joke involves people trying to explain the difference between liking someone and liking someone.)

None of the specific plot developments are very novel or surprising. If you’re at all familiar with robot-in-school or just plain innocent-abroad stories, you’ll be able to see what’s coming with a good degree of reliability. Suzuki distinguishes her version through style and tone, tending to find the just-right balance of funny and thoughtful, handling her characters with consistency and compassion and looking at their circumstances with straightforward warmth. I was quite surprised that Karakuri Odette was Suzuki’s first ongoing series, since her writing is so restrained and self-assured.

I think the art actually does reflect someone in the early stages of a career, though. The best parts tend to involve faces, particularly Odette’s coolly curious expressions. Suzuki seems more at ease with stillness than movement, though. On the plus side, it seems like a distinct and interesting style is in the process of cohering as the series progresses. I’m very curious to see Suzuki’s later works to watch that process continue.

And I’m definitely eager to read the last half of Karakuri Odette, which runs a total of six volumes. It’s not ambitious or innovative, but it’s got the kind of gentle, quirky likability that’s always a pleasure to experience. Suzuki has an engaging, slightly off-kilter sensibility that helps make the predictable become winning.

The Railway Children by E. Nesbit: A

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From the back cover:
When Father goes away unexpectedly, Roberta, Peter, Phyllis and their mother have to leave their happy life in London to go and live in a small cottage in the country. The children seek solace in the nearby railway station, and make friends with Perks the Porter and the Station Master himself. But the mystery remains: where is Father, and will he ever return?

Review:
This is the story of three children—Roberta (Bobbie), Peter, and Phyllis—who move with their mother from the city to the country after their beloved father mysteriously goes away. Though it’s initially a culture shock, they’re soon fascinated by the railway and make many friends among its staff and patrons and end up helping quite a few people—and receiving help in return—along the way.

Perhaps the best compliment I could give The Railway Children is that I wish it had gone on for about three times as long. But, as Peter sagely opines, everything must end.

‘There’s no end to this tunnel,’ said Phyllis—and indeed it did seem very, very long.

‘Stick to it,’ said Peter; ‘everything has an end, and you get to it if you only keep on.’

Which is quite true, if you come to think of it, and a useful thing to remember in seasons of trouble—such as measles, arithmetic, impositions, and those times when you are in disgrace, and feel as though no one would ever love you again, and you could never—never again—love anybody.

The passage above exemplifies several of the qualities that make this book such a charming read. The narration, for example, has a comradely air, evincing sympathy for the child’s point of view while utilizing humor that would please any audience. Here’s another bit at which I giggled—it takes place right after the children have gone out to pick cherries and end up preventing a terrible accident:

Bobbie said nothing. She was thinking of the horrible mound, and the trustful train rushing towards it.

‘And it was us that saved them’ said Peter.

‘How dreadul if they had all been killed!’ said Phyllis; ‘wouldn’t it, Bobbie?’

‘We never got any cherries, after all,’ said Bobbie.

The others thought her rather heartless.

I could go on quoting similar diverting passages, but must address a second strong point in favor of this book: the characterization of the children. Now, it may be said that it’s idealistic to expect children this clever and honest to truly exist, but Nesbit is also careful to give each of them flaws. Peter is a bit hot-headed, Phyllis is self-absorbed, and Bobbie is… well, Bobbie hasn’t really got faults, and yet I love her best of the lot.

Bobbie’s the eldest, and poised on the brink of growing up. She still has fun playing with her siblings, but she’s the one attuned to her mother’s sorrow, and realizes that asking about their father’s whereabouts would only cause more pain. When she discovers the truth, and thinks how it would affect her younger siblings, she understands why her mother did not reveal it. She’s brave, kind, sensitive, and thoughtful. The family owes their happiness to her, though they know it not.

The end result is a story that is wholesome, but never saccharine. The children invariably do the right thing, but that doesn’t make them immune from quarrels. Unfair and frightening things happen, but likewise people are willing to offer help when asked. Cleverness and simple goodness are prized more than foolhardy exploits, and the children are extremely proud of their mother, who uses her gift of storytelling to support the family after the move. It’s a story that makes one feel good about people, and oh, that ending! “I think that just now we are not wanted there. I think it will be best for us to go quickly and quietly away.”

Clearly I must read more E. Nesbit.

Additional reviews of The Railway Children can be found at Triple Take.