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BL Bookrack: March

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Welcome to the March installment of BL Bookrack, a monthly feature co-written with Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This month, we take a look at four offerings from Digital Manga Publishing’s Juné imprint, Honey Chocolate Pancakes, Intense Rain, My Bad!, and Then Comes Love.

Honey Chocolate Pancakes | By Keiko Kinoshita | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – The two-part title story in this collection by Keiko Kinoshita (Kiss Blue) is alone worth the price of admission. When famous actor Tougo Kijima takes a sudden sabbatical from his job and claims to be unemployed and homeless, he’s taken in by pasty chef Chiharu Abe, whose creations Tougo adores. They soon begin fooling around, with prickly Chiharu gradually lowering his defenses towards his uncouth houseguest.

Of course, when he finds out Tougo’s secret and realizes he’s been lied to, Chiharu feels like a fool. Tougo claims that it wasn’t his intention to trick Chiharu, but the damage has been done. Kinoshita handles this scene extremely well, especially in the way she allows silence to hang between them when there’s nothing more to be said. The second part of their story is a little less polished, since we don’t learn exactly why Chiharu allows Tougo back into his life, only that he does and that Tougo is a pretty jealous guy.

Subsequent stories are less successful. The best of the remainder is “For Love,” in which a businessman named Miyasaka, who has nurtured an unrequited love for his friend Minami for ten years, believes the time has come to wish Minami happiness as he embarks on a relationship with a woman. Miyasaka’s pain and Minami’s confusion are nicely conveyed, though the abrupt ending is somewhat of a disappointment.

Neither of the other stories in the collection impressed me much. “Tomorrow Will Be Rosy” is about the efforts of a teenaged couple to consummate their relationship while “A Clever Man at Work” features a very manipulative character who purposefully acts incompetent on the job in order to frustrate his mentor into making cute expressions. He also lies about his background to elicit sympathy and is just overall very unappealing.

In the end, it’s a fairly uneven collection, but not a bad read by any means.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Intense Rain | By Shinri Fuwa | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – It’s been five years since smooth operator Takaaki lost his college boyfriend, Ryuji, as a consequence of his own chronic infidelity. But when Ryuji turns up as a substitute at the high school where Takaaki teaches, old feelings rush back on both sides. Though Ryuji resists falling back into a relationship that was once so painful, confusing signals from Takaaki beg the question, can people really change?

If there’s one thing about this manga that deserves high praise, it would be the cover. The book’s cover image describes and contextualizes its contents more accurately than any review ever could. The tall, masculine aggressor, his tiny, disheveled prey, the melodramatic pose struck between their rain-soaked bodies, framed by flowers and dark desire–all these things together provide a pretty succinct overview of Shinri Fuwa’s Intense Rain. Perhaps the only the book’s inner cover could go one better.

If this sounds a bit snide, well, maybe it is, but there’s an element of reluctant praise that I simply can’t deny. For a book to be so forthright about what it hopes to accomplish (and so utterly successful in accomplishing it!) is something rare indeed. Intense Rain is, in execution, exactly as advertised, no more, no less. And if I might have hoped for more, can I really complain?

From the very beginning, Intense Rain exemplifies BL in its most surface terms. Seme Takaaki is dark, mysterious, vaguely brutal, and a predator of men and women alike. Uke Ryuji is delicate, emotionally frazzled, perpetually blushing, and helpless in his man’s arms. As maddening as these baseline characterizations may be, however, it’s the characters’ “growth” that is the story’s primary weakness. Takaaki’s transformation from classic rake to caring lover is left too much offscreen to be believed, while Ryuji’s acceptance of his lover’s sudden reformation is enough to send one’s book flying across the room. A secondary story involving the romance between a 30-something salaryman and a high school student fares a little bit better, though it is no less shackled by standard BL tropes.

What Intense Rain does offer is a strong dose of romantic melodrama and some pretty, pretty pictures, for those who have the craving. Then again, you could just stick with the cover.

-Review by MJ

My Bad! | By Rize Shinba | Published by Juné | Rated YA (16+) | Buy at Akadot – I’m generally not one for BL comedies, much less those that center on underwear thievery, so I initially did not think I’d be reading My Bad!. That changed after I checked out Intriguing Secrets, another title by the same creator which was favorably reviewed by MJin a Bookrack of yore. I liked it very much, which prompted me to give My Bad! a shot.

It turns out that My Bad! is a quirky and amusing collection of short stories that share some common themes and flaws. I appreciate how often the younger, smaller men are actually the driving force in the relationship. They haven’t merely been sought out by some horny seme whose advances they initially resist, but are shown to have their own drives and desires.

In “Lovely Beast,” for example, it’s teenage Hiroki who is obsessed by Izumi, a tenant in the building Hiroki’s grandparents oversee. He goes so far as to let himself into Izumi’s place and make off with a pair of his boxers. Smutty discovery ensues. “Won’t You Be My Wife?” and “Miracle Voice,” in turn feature younger men falling in love with a housekeeper and the guy who makes the announcements on the subway, respectively.

My favorite in this line is “Stamp Please!” in which a huge, genial postal worker named Yuji Kikkawa delivers a letter to Ayato Mashiba. Ayato is instantly smitten, and sends a letter to himself just so he can see Kikkawa again. Throughout the story, he puts himself in Kikkawa’s path while simultaneously avoiding the desperate pleas of a stalkery ex-lover. The plot takes a dark turn, but I ended up liking it a lot. Shinba writes in her notes that she regards this as a serious story, even though others perceived it as comedy, and I quite agree.

Where some of the stories fail is in making the reciprocation scenes believable. I’m not sure if blame should be laid at the feet of the short-story format or if Shinba just couldn’t communicate the characters’ true emotions clearly, but there are a few stories in which I found the happy moment extremely abrupt. Probably the biggest culprit here is “Won’t You Be My Wife?” where a surly character is suddenly revealed to care about his housekeeper far more than was ever previously suggested.

On the whole, I enjoyed the collection and feel pretty certain now that I’ll like anything Shinba produces.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Then Comes Love | By Riyu Yamakami | Published by Juné | Rated Mature (18+) | Buy at Akadot – When happy-go-lucky college student Takahiro approaches aloof loner Midori to try to gain an introduction for a smitten female friend, it’s surprising to both of them that this would eventually lead to close friendship. But things get complicated fast when an encounter with another student forces Midori to admit to himself and his friend that he’s gay. Though Takahiro claims not to be bothered by this new information, he’s also clearly angry about Midori’s new relationship, calling his own feelings for Midori into question.

While this type of love triangle is a pretty standard setup in the “best friends turned lovers” BL sub-genre, Riyu Yamakami makes better use of it than most. Though there’s never any question about where the story’s primary relationship is headed, its journey is surprisingly believable and comparatively un-rushed. Even the characters’ “popular guy” and “aloof guy” stereotypes work in the story’s favor here, allowing Yamakami to thoroughly explore the way two contrasting personalities process all the various difficulties and emotions common to falling in love.

Yamakimi’s only real misstep is in her use of the love triangle’s third party, a smooth talker named Soejima who alternates between promiscuous playboy and sneaky matchmaker. Though technically no less a BL cliché than the story’s two leads, Soejima unfortunately crosses over into uglier real-life stereotypes, spouting lines like, “Gay men are always looking for the chance to have sex with tons of other guys,” as he works on seducing a desperate Takahiro during the book’s single descent into truly absurd fantasy.

Yakamimi’s artwork, though awkward in some of the characters’ more physical encounters, is generally a highlight, providing much of the contrast and emotional nuance that make her characters so compelling.

Though not without its minor stumbles, Then Comes Love is a genuinely refreshing addition to Juné’s BL one-shot catalogue.

-Review by MJ

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Twin Spica, Vols. 5-6

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If you spend any time surfing the mangasphere, you don’t need me to tell you that Twin Spica is about a group of teenagers who are training to become Japan’s first astronauts. You probably know — or have heard from other readers — that it’s poignant. And you may have heard pundits declare it one of the best new series of 2010. (It made my best-of list.) Rather than re-hash plot points or tell you how awesome it is, therefore, I thought I’d share what I like best about Twin Spica: every volume makes me want to look up at the sky.

I’m not talking about the simple act of looking through a telescope or watching clouds drift in the wind — I’m talking about the way the act of looking at the sky makes me feel. Reflecting back on my childhood, that act elicited very specific emotions: the sky represented the future, a large canvas on which I could project my most cherished dreams of traveling to distant places, having adventures, and doing things that, from a six or eight-year-old’s perspective, seemed important. Kou Yaginuma clearly remembers that feeling from his own childhood, because his characters are at their most optimistic and thoughtful when they’re looking up at the sky and thinking about their own experiences.

There’s a lovely moment in volume six, for example, when Fuchuya’s grandfather tells six-year-old Asumi to cherish the memory of gazing up at the sky, as the sky will look different to her as she reaches adulthood. He explains:

You might as well spend your time looking up, at the sky. Me, I’ve spent decades staring up the sky in this town. I only thought the sky was very high when I was your age. When you’re old, it doesn’t seem quite that way. The sky you see as a kid is a lifelong treasure. I mean it. Value what you can see now, and only now.

Reading this passage reminds me of “Feldeinsamkeit” (“In Summerfields”), a beautiful piece of juvenilia from Charles Ives’ 114 Songs. The lyrics, taken from German poet Hermann Allmers, describe the experience of lying in a meadow on a summer’s afternoon and watching the sky. The sight of drifting clouds induces melancholy in his poem’s narrator, who — in typical nineteenth-century fashion — sees the clouds’ gentle, unfettered progress across the sky as a symbol of release from earthly burdens:

I’m resting quietly in tall green grass,
and cast my eyes far upwards;
around me crickets chirp unceasing,
the sky’s blue magically encloses me.

The beautiful white clouds float past
through the deep blue, like lovely silent dreams.
It is as if I had been long dead,
and flew in bliss with them through unending space.

Ives’ setting, by his own standards, is rather tame; there’s a running accompaniment figure that suggests fast-moving clouds, and a fleeting moment of bitonality, but it falls squarely within the nineteenth-century Stimmungslied tradition with its rounded binary form and gentle chromaticism. The song has an undeniably haunting quality, however. Its rapid modulation to harmonically distant key signatures and achingly sad melodic line suggest that the singer isn’t simply describing the act of watching clouds, as the lyrics alone might imply, but remembering what she was thinking and feeling as she did so.

That may sound like a minor distinction, but memory — or, more accurately, the act of remembering — is an important motif in the 114 Songs. “At the River,” for example, initially sounds like a straightforward rendition of “Shall We Gather At the River,” only to deviate from the melody as the singer “forgets” the proper tune, while “Memories” re-enacts a child’s enthusiasm at attending a concert. “In Summerfields” is less self-consciously modernist than either of these songs, but all three rely heavily on the illusion that the performer is reliving one of her own memories.

And that’s exactly the quality I find so compelling about Twin Spica: it’s a manga about living with vivid memories — some haunting, some happy — about reconciling past and present, about recognizing the value in both joy and pain, about negotiating the transition from youthful innocence to adulthood. In that scene with Fuchuya’s grandfather, we’re given a powerful reminder of just how much symbolic importance the sky holds for all of us, even if it doesn’t fill us with the same sense of wonder that it did when we were small.

Review copies provided by Vertical, Inc.

TWIN SPICA, VOLS. 5-6 • BY KOU YAGINUMA • VERTICAL, INC. • RATING: TEEN (13+)

A Kid’s View: Beauty and the Squat Bears

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Jia Li is in second grade and enjoys ballet, singing, and jumping on her trampoline. Her favorite subject in school is science and she also enjoys playing the piano and violin. She would like to grow up to be a veterinarian, a teacher or a star. This is her first book review.

Beauty and the Squat Bears | By Émile Bravo | Published by Yen Press – There is a princess named Snow White who is getting chased by her step mother because Snow White is the prettiest princess in the world and the stepmother would like to be the prettiest. Snow White finds a house in the woods but it is the house of seven bears. The bears come home and Snow White begs them to stay. They ask her if she will do chores but she says she does not do chores and that princesses are supposed to marry a prince. So the bears have a talk, and one of the bears goes out to find her a prince.

The bear goes walking in the woods and comes across a blue bird who claims to be a prince. The bear agrees to take the bird with him to see the fairy godmother to change him back into a prince. The bear then sees a castle and goes in to look for a prince. He finds one, and that prince agrees to come with him as well. As the bear is in the castle, the bird changes back into a prince. So now the bear has two princes fighting over the princess.

While the three are on the way to see the princess they come across another character who claims to be a prince but looks like a monster. As the bear and three princes are talking, an old woman comes out of the wood. They tell her she’s too ugly to kiss the monster to turn him back into a prince when suddenly the old lady goes *poof* and becomes the fairy godmother. The monster grabs a kiss from the fairy godmother and turns back into a prince. The fairy godmother gets angry and a very bad thing happens. In the end, the bear comes home empty handed, Snow White has to do chores, and the stepmother gets her wish.

I liked the story and it is very funny. I like princesses and fairy godmothers, and the bears are very cute and say funny things. The funniest part was when the bear walks into the ball, Cinderella’s clothes turn back into rags in front of the prince, and then he walks out with the squat bear. I did not like the sad ending. I also did not think that it should have ended there. I would have liked there to be more to the story.

There were some things I did not understand because it was a kids’ book but had some things written for adults. There were a couple of words that I could not read, and I did not understand some of the big words like “bewitched” and “conferred”.

I liked the detail of the artwork, especially the dresses. I did not like some of the bears’ expressions. They seemed strange to me.

I really liked this book. I would recommend this book to kids who like princes and princesses and tiny, cute bears but who also can read big words.

Review copy provided by the publisher. For a grownup look at Beauty and the Squat Bears, check out Kate’s review here.

The Josei Alphabet: I

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“I” is for…

Ice Age, written and illustrated by Akiko Monden, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, ten volumes. There are no wooly mammoths here, but there is the whiff of extinction. Smelling the death of traditional journalism well ahead of time, Eiji quits his job as a reporter to teach English. Published in French by Kana under the title Professeur Eiji. Its sequel, Ice Age 2, is up to three volumes in Chorus.

Ice Forest, written and illustrated by Chiho (Revolutionary Girl Utena) Saitou, currently running in Shogakukan’s Flowers, up to 8 volumes. In this weekend’s random question, there was great enthusiasm for figure skating, which is the subject of this series. A former solo skater thinks her career is over until she’s paired with a Canadian-Japanese ice dancer.

Ichiya dake no Princess, based on a novel by Marion Lennox, written and illustrated by Takako Hashimoto, originally published by Harlequinsha, one volume. Tragedy! Royalty! Yarn! A fashion designer travels to a European principality for its fabulous yarns, gets into a traffic accident that kills the prince’s fiancée, and winds up staying with the royal family. Tangled! (I know that this is available in English as Princess of Convenience, but I couldn’t wait until I got to that letter. Yarn!)

Imagine, written and illustrated by Satoru Makimura, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, 11 volumes. This one’s about two working women, a mother and a daughter. The mother is an architect, and the daughter is an office lady. I suspect Makimura’s Imagine 29 may be a sequel of sorts. It ran in Shueisha’s Young You for 3 volumes and focuses on the relationship between two very different sisters.

IS: Otoko demo Onna demo Nai Sei, written and illustrated by Chiyo Rokuhana, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, 17 volumes. This series takes an apparently episodic look at intersex people and the various challenges they face. It does seem to have long arcs focusing on individual characters, though the point of view seems to change over the course of the series.

Licensed josei:

  • IC in a Sunflower, written and illustrated by Mitsukazu Mihara, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, published in English by Tokyopop, one volume.
  • Idol Dreams, based on a novel by Charlotte Lamb, written and illustrated by Youko Hanabusa, originally serialized in Ohzora Shuppan’s Harlequin, published in English by Dark Horse, one volume.

What starts with “I” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

Ai Ore!, Vol. 1

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Androgyny is as much a part of rock-n-roll as sex, drugs, and three-minute guitar solos, so it seems only natural that a music-obsessed manga-ka would write about a female guitarist who struts like Mick Jagger, or a male singer who can wail like Whitney Houston. Putting two such androgynous rock-n-rollers together in the same manga seems like a stroke of genius — think of what Moto Hagio could do with those characters! — until you realize that Ai Ore! is written by the author of Sensual Phrase, quite possibly the silliest manga ever written about rock musicians.

Ai Ore! begins promisingly enough. Mizuki — a tall, masculine girl — reluctantly allows Akira — a short, feminine boy — to join her band Blaue Rosen. At first, Mizuki seems to be the dominant one; not only is she taller and stronger than Akira, she’s also more charismatic, commanding her friends’ loyalty through the strength of her personality, rather than her sexual allure. (Akira, by contrast, relies on his delicate good looks to get what he wants.) Mizuki claims to hate men, but it doesn’t take long before her cover is blown: she’s besotted with Akira.

So far, so good: Mizuki is a believable character, embracing a masculine persona to camouflage how uncomfortable she feels in her own skin. (As someone who was also tall and broad-shouldered in high school, I can attest to the special misery of being bigger than many of my female peers: I vacillated between striding the halls like General MacArthur and secretly wishing I was four inches shorter.) Even Mizuki’s desire to be softer and prettier for Akira makes sense; she can’t imagine that a boy would be interested in a girl who was unconventionally feminine, despite abundant evidence that both her female and male peers find her attractive.

No, where the story really goes off the rails is in its dogged insistence on including every shojo cliche in the Hana to Yume playbook. A few chapters into the series, for example, we learn that Mizuki’s ambivalence about men stems from a distressing childhood experience in which she became so infatuated with a cute boy that she felt physically ill. (In a line straight out of Guys and Dolls, Mizuki declares, “Men are bad for your health!”) Shinjo doesn’t bother to conceal the mystery prince’s identity from readers, nor does she use that revelation to bring her leads closer together; the whole episode feels completely perfunctory, as if Shinjo were ticking off plot points from a checklist. The same goes for a story line that sends Mizuki, Akira, and a bus full of girls on a retreat. You probably don’t need me to tell you that their destination is a resort with hot springs, or that Akira infiltrates the group by pretending to be girl, or that Mizuki’s virtue is threatened by one of Akira’s classmates who’s tagged along for the express purpose of putting the moves on Mizuki.

It’s too bad that the story settles for such predictable plot twists; there’s a germ of a good idea in here, a chance to challenge the way teenagers define “feminine” and “masculine” by celebrating kids who can’t be neatly pegged as either. Instead, Mizuki and Akira revert to stereotypical female and male roles in the drama, with Mizuki sobbing and trembling and needing rescues, and Akira playing the hero. Now where’s the rock-n-roll in that?

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC. Volume one will be available on May 3, 2011.

AI ORE!, VOL. 1 • BY MAYU SHINJO • VIZ • 300 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Don’t Fear the Adaptation: House of Five Leaves

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House of Five Leaves | by Natsume Ono | Manga: Shogakukan/Viz Media | Studio: Manglobe/Funimation

Watch streaming from Funimation

House of Five Leaves cast

Regular readers of Manga Bookshelf will need no introduction to House of Five Leaves. MJlisted it as one of her best new seinen series of 2010, Kate has reviewed all three volumes, and David himself wrote a smart little ode to it recently when he reviewed volume two. For those of you still new to the series, House of Five Leaves is Natsume Ono’s seven volume samurai story. The main character, Akitsu Masanosuke, referred to in the series as Masa, is a masterless samurai determined to change himself while looking for work in Edo. One afternoon, Masa is hired by a suspicious man named Yaichi as a bodyguard. But all is not as it seems: Yaichi is actually the leader of a band of kidnappers who call themselves “Five Leaves”, and he doesn’t just want Masa to be his bodyguard — he wants Masa to join them as a comrade in crime. Masa, by nature a righteous and naïve man, resists Yaichi’s attempts to draw him in. However, he soon finds himself entangled in the fate of Five Leaves and, more importantly, in the mystery of Yaichi.

There are so many wonderful things about the anime adaptation of House of Five Leaves that it’s hard to know where to start. Thankfully, Natsume Ono’s distinct art style makes my job easier. Manglobe and the series director Tomomi Mochizuki transferred Ono’s art effortlessly into animation. The character designs are instantly recognizable, especially in Masa’s wide, childish eyes and Otake’s playful lipsticked smile. The sweatdrops, stray hairs, and blush lines of Ono’s characters are rendered in loving detail in every episode. There are even moments — the candy pieces of episode four, the pillars of the bridge in episode twelve — where the lines look like calligraphy, as if they were penned by Ono herself.

Often anime simplifies manga artwork. House of Five Leaves, the anime, does the opposite. While the manga tends to be very “white” on the page, full of negative space, the anime is full of textures: the unpolished wood of Goinkyo’s home, the tatami mat of the Katsuraya house, the smooth rice paper doors of Ume’s restaurant. Even more impressive is the interplay of light and shadow in the anime. Characters constantly move in and out of candlelight, open doors to let in sunlight, or sit with their backs to a window, hiding their faces in the dark. Ono is no slob herself when it comes to lighting in the manga, but the anime takes full advantage of its color palette — earthy browns and subdued gray-greens — to make Edo come alive.

The soundtrack features a combination of rumbling drums, wistful koto melodies, and reedy flute-like tunes that helps ground us in a historical Edo that, amazingly, never comes off as antiquated or forced. Likewise, the voice actor choices are almost flawless. Daisuke Namikawa as Masa is exactly the kind of guy who wears his heart on his sleeve and never says anything less than what he means. Veteran voice actor Takahiro Sakurai’s performance as Yaichi is by turns teasing, seductive, spiteful, and, at his best, all three at once. A shout out must be given to Masaya Takatsuka, who never misses a beat conveying Ume’s my-bark-is-worse-than-my-bite personality, especially in episode three when Ume makes a crack at Matsu. But the anime adaptation goes that extra mile: if you listen carefully, you can hear Edo in the background, in the soft drone of water boiling in a kettle, or the river streaming past, or the birds of Goinkyo’s backyard, or the shuffling of Yaichi’s wooden shoes. Ono’s manga might not think to comment on the “shaaa chhk” sound of a rice door sliding open or the faint crackle of straw as Ume unloads their latest hostage out of a basket, but it would be a pity to go through this anime without appreciating these little details.

At first glance, House of Five Leaves is about the journey Five Leaves takes from a ragtag group of misfits to a family who looks out for their own, even when there’s no money involved. For lack of a more nuanced, less cheesy word, the story is heart-warming. The more you uncover the crisscrossing ties of responsibility that connect the Five Leaves members, whether it be the reluctant life debts Matsu shoulders or the reason Ume remains in Five Leaves, the more you enjoy seeing them together at Ume’s restaurant, making fun of each other as they drink sake. Sadly, the anime does cut out one of my favorite scenes from the manga so far (Ume and Matsu bickering in volume one), and I imagine the later episodes similarly streamline forthcoming volumes. But the heart of the story comes through unscathed, which is a testament both to the strength of Ono’s writing and Manglobe’s talent at adaptation.

Underlying this story, though, is another tried and true theme: appearances are deceiving. Yaichi shows up in the first episode as a sage and benefactor to Masa, so naturally Masa, along with the viewer, looks upon Yaichi as a voice of authority. When we meet Yagi, the police chief who seems to know more about Yaichi than he lets on, we’re immediately suspicious of him because Yaichi tells us to be. But the more that’s uncovered about Yaichi, the more we realize Yaichi is the unreliable one. Just as Ume, Matsu, and Otake are more virtuous than the criminals we first meet them as, Yaichi is not at all the kind-hearted character we first encounter. In fact, he’s the most dangerous one of them all.

The anime has restructured the pacing of Ono’s series, favoring episodes that end on jarring cliffhangers and jumps in the timeline, often through flashbacks. Some might prefer the more measured pacing Ono shows in the manga; others might find the anime benefits from a more coherent focus, especially when it comes to Yaichi’s storyline. I for one felt like I could guess the events of episode twelve from the flashback sequence in episode one — a flashback sequence, I should add, that does not exist in the manga. But anime being the inherently action-based medium it is, I can’t fault Manglobe for wanting to ratchet up the tension just a little on what is, overall, a slow-moving story.

In the end House of Five Leaves is one of those series that I enjoy for reasons I can’t put into words. It’s not plot driven, and the characters never really change, even if they become more well-rounded. Certainly Masa never learns to get over his fear of being watched and remains the clumsy, shy samurai we first meet. But there is a marvelous je ne sais quoi to House of Five Leaves, an atmosphere of rambling down a countryside path on a late autumn afternoon, knowing that you’ll get to your destination eventually but not really knowing when. The anime luxuriates in that feeling. You could spend your time trying to piece together all the threads of the story, but you’d be missing the point. It’s meant to be savored, like a dango shared with a friend while hungry.

P.S. Next month’s anime adaptation will be Antique Bakery, just in case you haven’t had enough of stories about people making their own families. As always, if you have any anime you’d like taste-tested, drop me a line.

Bookshelf Briefs 3/28/11

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Welcome to the first installment of Bookshelf Briefs, a new, weekly collection of short reviews from the Manga Bookshelf crew covering both recent releases and some blasts from the past. This week, David, Kate, and MJlook at ongoing series from Viz Media and Yen Press, while guest Michelle Smith chimes in with an oldie from Dark Horse.

Black Butler, vol. 5 | by Yana Toboso | Yen Press – The fifth volume of Black Butler pits Sebastian against a rival butler in a curry cook-off reminiscent of an Iron Chef episode. (Queen Victoria stands in for Chairman Kaga as the ultimate arbiter of whose curry reigns supreme.) As inspired a development as the curry battle may be, it reveals the biggest problem with Black Butler: the story relies so heavily on gruesome supernatural plot twists that the narrative comes to a grinding halt whenever Yana Toboso depicts more mundane situations. The supporting characters are two-dimensional at best, doomed to sound the same notes over and over, while Sebastian is so relentlessly perfect that the outcome of every conflict is never in doubt. About the best I can say for volume five is that Toboso pulls out all the stops while drawing the interior of the Crystal Palace; every steel arch and palm tree are rendered with loving precision. – Katherine Dacey

Itsuwaribito vol. 2 | by Yuuki Iinuma | Viz Media – This series has such a terrific premise – an habitual liar decides to use his inherent dishonesty to help people – that I keep hoping it will start to make the most of it. Unfortunately, Utsuho is a rather inscrutable protagonist, and there aren’t enough hints at hidden depths to give his adventures the kind of weight the premise promises. It’s pleasant and attractively drawn, but it doesn’t really go any farther than that. Iinuma could build an interesting and novel mythology with the underlying idea, which could transform the series into something quite special. I’ll probably stick with it for a bit longer to see if that happens. – David Welsh

Kimi ni Todoke, vol. 7 | by Karuho Shiina | Viz Media – Sawako’s slowly burgeoning relationship with Kazehaya leaps boldly forward in this installment, leaving Sawako finally certain of her own feelings. Unfortunately, insecurity prevents her from recognizing that those feelings are returned. Though the pace of this series remains as leisurely as the growth of its heroine’s self-confidence, its unabashed sweetness saves this from ever becoming stale. Shiina’s smart, honest writing and expressive artwork serve as a how-to manual for creating effective shoujo manga, with a touch of wry humor as a special bonus. A scene in which Chizu and Ayane give Sawako a whirlwind makeover is worth the cover price, alone. Still recommended.– MJ

Seiho Boys’ High School!, vol. 4 | by Kaneyoshi Izumi | Viz Media -Though Seiho Boys’ High School pretends to be a soap opera about hunky, horny guys trapped at a geographically isolated boarding school, it’s actually a smart comedy about teenage dating rituals. Male and female characters alike struggle mightily to impress the opposite sex: they pretend to be easygoing, or feign indifference, or mistake friendship for romantic attraction, embarrassing themselves in the process. In keeping with the realistic spirit of the comedy, Kaneyoshi Izumi doesn’t always find a way to unite her would-be couples; their interactions are as messy and complicated as real-life relationships, even if her characters are handier with snappy one-liners than most teenagers. Only the dorm room hijinks fall flat, with predictable jokes about the slovenly habits of the adolescent male — a minor complaint about an otherwise entertaining series. Recommended. – Katherine Dacey

Seiho Boys’ High School!, vol. 5 | by Kaneyoshi Izumi | Viz Media – A series of ghost sightings at Seiho High force Maki to confront his lingering feelings for the love of his past, while his present girlfriend pushes for some understanding of where she stands. Meanwhile, Hana finds a new calling in providing photos of his classmates to a nearby girls’ school, and townie Fuyuka makes unexpected progress with her crush, Kamiki. Kaneyoshi Izumi may not be revolutionizing the genre, but she’s surely livening it up with this decidedly indelicate, humorous look at the inner lives of boys left to wallow in each others’ company. As a die-hard fan of shoujo, it’s hard not to be charmed as she alternately mocks and pacifies her readers, and her increasing focus on deeper characterization only makes the series stronger. Five volumes in, Seiho continues to be one of Shojo Beat’s most enjoyable current reads. – MJ

Toriko, vol. 3 | by Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro | Viz Media – It’s hard to imagine a manga that both Ted Nugent and Michael Pollan could agree on, but Toriko comes pretty close: while it celebrates the manly valor of hunting game, it also focuses on the importance of eating “real” food. (Or what counts for “real” food in the fantasy-universe of the manga.) The tonal shifts can be dramatic, with characters waxing poetic about the delicate properties of puffer whale meat in one panel and engaging in brutal, hand-to-hand combat with rival gourmet hunters in the next, but the prevailing spirit is exuberant; every line of dialogue is delivered with emphatic punctuation, and every character seems thoroughly committed to the pursuit of delicacies. I’d be the first to admit that many of the game animals seem more ferocious than delicious, but Mitsutoshi Shimabukuro’s feverish energy and imagination help sell the more improbable story lines. Recommended.
– Katherine Dacey

From the Archives

Metropolis | by Osamu Tezuka | Dark Horse – According to the back cover, the 1949 Tezuka work Metropolis inspired an “astonishing” animated film. Alas, it didn’t inspire me much. For the most part, the narrative consists of a band of vertically challenged middle-aged sleuths pursuing an over-the-top villain who is himself pursuing Michi, an artificial being who is neither male nor female. Later, the villain’s robot slaves, led by Michi, stage a revolt. True, one could talk about the themes present in the work, most notably that life is sacred, no matter if it’s biological or artificial, but the story zooms by too quickly for anything to make much of an impact. I’m left wondering what Naoki Urasawa could make of this one. – Michelle Smith

From the stack: Kingyo Used Books vol. 3

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Seimu Yoshizaki’s Kingyo Used Books (Viz) has been rightly (if harshly) criticized for its reliance on formula and simplistic sentimentality, so I thought it was worth noting that the third volume expands the boundaries of the series in some successful and satisfying ways.

For those who haven’t sampled the series online, it’s about a bookstore that specializes in manga. Customers come in and reconnect with an old favorite in ways that resonate with something that’s going on in their lives. It’s very affirming of fandom across the lifespan, and a little of that can go a long way, particularly in a fairly rigidly episodic format.

There’s a nice two-part story in the third volume that steps away from Kingyo and its customer-of-the-month fixation. In it, a salaryman leaves the corporate world to take over a manga rental library. Remembering a youthful transgression, he sets out to collect the books that were never returned to the library. He’s not punitive about it, but he’s willing to go to rather ridiculous extremes to reclaim some of the lost volumes.

It’s a nice change of pace. It also features (or possibly creates) another kind of shared fan touchstone that’s pleasant to see, even if Yoshizaki has manufactured it entirely. (Do Japanese people actually swap manga when they chance to meet each other abroad? I have no idea, but it’s a nice notion.) And the chapters give me fodder for another license request. (Jiro Taniguchi worked on a food manga? The mind reels.)

On the down side, an episodic structure sometimes promises a predictable number of duds. For me, the biggest disappointment in this volume was a piece spun around the manga of the wonderful Kazuo Umezu. It’s about a ladies’ man who sets his sights on a hardcore Umezu fan in spite of his aversion to horror. Given how distinctive Umezu’s work is, you’d think Yoshizaki might have tried to incorporate some of Umezu’s iconic weirdness into the piece. You’d think wrong. Nobody even wears a striped shirt.

But, stumbles and sentiment aside, Kingyo Used Books is never less than gently likable. I’m not sure it benefits from reading in big chunks, but you don’t have to, what with the SigIKKI serialization.

 

Breaking Down Banana Fish, Vols. 14-16

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Hello and welcome once again to our roundtable, Breaking Down Banana Fish!

We continue this month with our new three-volume format, and with just six volumes left to discuss, that means we’ll have the entire series covered by the end of our May installment.

Volumes fourteen through sixteen are action-packed, as Eiji and the others manage to (mostly) pull off their ambitious rescue operation, followed by a declaration of war by Golzine that places all three of our major gangs at the center of a military-style siege. Meanwhile, Yut-Lung declares a war of his own with assassin Blanca on board as his bodyguard.

I’m joined again in this round by Michelle Smith (Soliloquy in Blue), Khursten Santos (Otaku Champloo), Connie C. (Slightly Biased Manga), Eva Volin (Good Comics For Kids), and Robin Brenner (No Flying, No Tights).

Continued thanks to these wonderful women for their hard work and brilliance!

Read our roundtable on volumes one and two here, volumes three and four here, volumes five and six here, volumes seven and eight here, volumes nine and ten here, and volumes eleven through thirteen here. On to part seven!

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How to Pen & Ink: The Manga Start-Up Guide

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Type the words “how to draw manga” into the Amazon.com search engine, and you’ll net over 575 results. These books run the gamut from Manga-for-Dummies manuals, designed to teach beginners the basics of figure drawing and paneling, to highly specialized texts focusing on a specific skill — say, applying screentone or drawing buxom warriors.

One of the biggest drawbacks to these manuals is the lack of examples culled from actual manga; for licensing reasons, many of these how-to books feature original art that may not be drawn by a professional working in the Japanese publishing industry. And while many of these books possess genuine educational value for the beginning artist, teaching from a copy — however good it might be — isn’t the same thing as learning from the original. That’s where DMP’s How to Pen & Ink: The Manga Start-Up Guide comes in: the book is liberally illustrated with sketches, pin-up art, and finished pages from the work of Oh!Great (Tenjo Tenge, Air Gear), Yasuhiro Nightow (Trigun), and Satoshi Shiki (Kami-Kaze), as well as a half-dozen other established artists.

The book is divided into two sections. In the first, billed as a “close-up of how a manga is born,” each of the three featured manga-ka takes readers step-by-step through the creation of a pen-and-ink drawing, offering insights into their own work process. In the second, readers practice drawing their own manga. This section, which comprises most of the book, contains a list of tools used by professional manga artists, a lengthy Q&A section aimed at novice creators, and a variety of exercises, the most useful of which focus on working with pens. Over a four-week period, readers learn how to draw lines of varying weight, length, and straightness; how to draw effective speedlines; and how to use crosshatching to define space and volume.

What distinguishes Pen & Ink from other how-to manuals is its approach: manga isn’t treated as a style but as a storytelling medium. Almost of the advice focuses on how to draw effective stories, whether readers are learning where to place word balloons or how to use speedlines and panel frames to direct the eye to a key element in the layout. Though some of the tips are too vague to be helpful, the book is chock-full of examples culled from the pages of Air Gear, Kami-Kaze, and Trigun, as well as Hikou x Shonen, Oudo no Kishi Moro, Sgt. Frog, Trigun, and Vampire Princess Yui — a diversity that nicely underscores the manga-as-medium message.

Anyone who’s taken a few life drawing courses should be able to complete most of the exercises, though they may wish to supplement Pen & Ink with a manual on character design. (Tips for drawing eyes, hands, and bodies are too scarce to be very helpful to novice cartoonists.) For readers just learning the basics — anatomy, perspective drawing — most of the information in the book is too advanced to be immediately beneficial; the ideal audience is someone who already owns a few pens and drawing tools but needs guidance on how to work more effectively with them.

Review copy provided by Digital Manga Publishing, Inc.

HOW TO PEN & INK: THE MANGA START-UP GUIDE • VARIOUS AUTHORS • DMP • 114 pp. • NO RATING (BEST SUITED FOR TEENS, AS THE SECTION ON OH!GREAT INCLUDES SOME NUDITY)

At the moment

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What with a significant license request so recently fulfilled, I thought it would be a good excuse to take stock, go through the roster, and try and figure which five top my personal wish list at the moment. Here they are:

50 x 50, written and illustrated by Saika Kunieda, originally serialized in Kadokawa Shoten’s Comic Charge. Libre Shuppan’s Magazine Be x Boy.

Bartender, written and illustrated by Araki Joh, serialized in Shueisha’s Super Jump.

Gokusen, written and illustrated by Kozueko Morimoto, originally serialized in Shueisha’s You.

Nasu, written and illustrated by Iou Kuroda, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Afternoon.

The Rose of Versailles, written and illustrated by Riyoko Ikeda, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Margaret.

What five books top your current wish list?

 

3 Things Thursday: Arts in Manga

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One of the things that seems to naturally go along with a career in the arts is a love/hate relationship with fictional portrayals of people engaging in such, and that definitely applies to my experience with arts-focused manga. Still, after a fevered late night open letter directed at the TV show Glee, I can’t help but have those exact portrayals on the brain.

Most artists are going to be more sensitive to the inaccuracies and overworked clichés in fiction written about their own field than any other, so I suppose I’m lucky that there hasn’t yet been a manga (imported here, at least) about singers and actors in musical theater (though there are some fairly funny scenes with Broadway hoofer Art in Reiko Shimizu’s Moon Child). When there is, I’ll surely cringe. But for now, I’ll enjoy these fine series, glossing over the bits that chafe and taking them as they are. As a side note, I find it interesting that its subjects are all students.

3 Performing & Visual Arts Epics:

1. Nodame Cantabile | Tomoko Ninomiya | Del Rey Manga | Classical Music – While I know at least one classical musician who despises this manga, as a former classical voice student, this series evokes memories of what I loved most about my college years, when I was surrounded by other students just as serious about music as I was. For me, coming from high school in the depressed midwest, this was actually pretty novel, and definitely inspiring in a whole lot of ways. What perhaps works so well for me here, is that my own personality as a young music student was pretty much equal parts ambitious Chiaki and free-spirited Nodame. My relentless drive was weirdly balanced by hippie-like clothing and a persistent absence of shoes, something that drove at least one of my studio teachers absolutely crazy. It was actually my experience with her that convinced me to avoid a career in opera. I really, really didn’t like wearing shoes.

2. Swan | Ariyoshi Kyoko | CMX | Ballet – Unbelievably, I’ve only read one volume of Swan, and one of my greatest fears at this point is that I’ll miss picking up the others, now that CMX is no more. Though I never was a real dancer despite years of classes (lack of physical discipline & wrong, wrong body type), I spent quite a bit of my youth obsessed with ballet, and spent no small amount of my “spare” cash buying tickets to ABT performances during my NYC years. For me, reading Swan is a natural extension of my teenaged fixation with The Children of Theatre Street and The Red Shoes, confirmed for me by Jason Thompson’s detailed writeup in his column at ANN. Will I find the rest of this series? (what was published of it, at least?) Let’s hope it’s not too late!

3. Honey and Clover | Chika Umino | Viz Media | Visual Art – I suppose it’s a little tragic that the type of art that provides me with the greatest mystery is also the inspiration for the series on this list that has (so far) taught me the least about its characters’ vocation. I expect its later volumes may focus more heavily on career, but as I’ve (shockingly) just begun the series, I’m so far mainly lured by its delicious soap-opera. Regardless of how it plays out, however, I suspect there is no manga on earth powerful enough to help me understand how visual artists do what they do–that is how magical it is for me. Even as a music student, I learned early on that I would never create true beauty with my hands, no matter how much I tried and practiced. My voice was the only thing I could ever make real music with… the only instrument I could ever command with my own will.

So, readers, gimme your arts-centric manga! I want to read more! MORE!

Off the Shelf: Cranky

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MJ: Hello. It is snowing at my house and I’m feeling very cranky. How about you?

MICHELLE: *points and laughs* It’s warm and sunny here! Internet connectivity woes are making me slightly cranky, though. Perhaps we can get our minds off what ails us by talking about some manga!

MJ: Perhaps so! Do you have some healing manga to share this week?

MICHELLE: There’s one that always brightens my mood, but I think I’ll save that for last. First up, I’ve got the debut volume of Pavane for a Dead Girl, a new series from TOKYOPOP.

I read one volume of a Koge-Donbo series back in 2004 and thought that was quite sufficient for one lifetime. Pavane for a Dead Girl tempted me, though, with its late-Meiji music school setting. We begin—in an inauspicious and jumbled way—as a new student named Nanao Kaga is about to commence studying at the school where she once long ago heard a lovely violin melody being played by a boy whom she dubbed the “prince of harmony.” lmost immediately, Nanao runs into the boy again, who just so happens to be playing the same tune. “What beautiful music. Like a dazzling jewel overflowing with love and radiance,” Nanao opines.

The boy is named Takenomaru Sagami, and gives Nanao a brooch that is at first clear but progressively becomes a deep amber in color. She’s soon head-over-heels in love with him, but what she doesn’t know is that, in exchange for good looks and musical talent, Takenomaru has made a bargain with the “great angel” to “capture the tears of Maria.” What this basically means is that he has to bestow a brooch upon a pure-hearted girl, encourage her to love him, and then stab her in the heart once the brooch indicates that her feelings have reached maximum capacity.

In the right hands, this could be an interesting concept. Dark, brooding hero is doomed to be eternally alone, because he must kill every girl who loves him in order to survive. Perhaps it will even go there eventually—I can’t believe I’m actually willing to read a second volume of a Koge-Donbo series!—but the execution is hampered by this being the most moe-tastic thing I’ve ever seen. None of the female characters registers even remotely as a fleshed-out person, and one gets the impression that they’re only there to fall for and be slain by Takenomaru in turn.

Maybe this could end up being something like Higurashi When They Cry, in which moe and darkness coexist, but I’m a little dubious. Curious, but not wholly convinced.

MJ: I think overall I have a more generous view of “moe” and what that can mean for a series, but semantics aside, this sounds pretty dubious. There’s the potential for a sort of Princess Tutu-flavored darkness in the scenario you describe, but it sounds like the execution has a looong way to go to match that kind of depth. I’m quite sad to hear it, actually.

MICHELLE: Admittedly, I don’t have a lot of experience with moe and don’t mean to blast it in ignorance, but the flatness of the female characters is inescapable. Takenomaru doesn’t really fare much better, but at least he has a traumatic backstory and a cruel bargain to live up to.

How about you? Read any doldrum-vanquishing things this week?

MJ: One of my titles definitely falls into that category, and I’ll start with that in hopes of buoying us up for the evening! That heart-warming manga would be volume three of Yumi Unita’s Bunny Drop, out just this week from Yen Press. Honestly, it’s hard to imagine that this series could ever become anything but warm and charming.

This volume begins with a milestone, as Rin’s first day of elementary school approaches. As Daikichi finds himself unexpectedly anxious about letting Rin walk to school without him, he’s also faced with a reality check at work, when a flirtatious female coworker abruptly loses interest after he tells her he’s raising a child. This volume’s biggest challenge, however, continues to be Rin’s birth mother, whose dispassionate attitude towards her child leaves Daikichi alternately angry and confounded.

I know I already made this comparison in my discussion of the first two volumes, but it’s continuously fascinating to me just how differently this series reads from Yotsuba&! thanks simply to its marketing demographic. Nothing against Yotsuba&! of course, but the focus on actual parenting in Bunny Drop stands in such stark contrast to that series, it’s almost funny. As a non-parent, I might expect this to be tedious, but in this artist’s hands, it’s anything but.

What Unita manages to capture here is not just the challenges of parenting or the (presumably) relatable humor and fear, but the honest-to-goodness joy of it, in terms that even a child-free old biddy like me can appreciate. Rin may not be as unique a soul as Yotsuba is, or at least less obviously so, but she’s such a little person, it’s impossible to avoid slipping into Daikichi’s POV. We experience everything here just as he does, and we experience it intimately, as though immersed in his feelings.

It’s a beautifully written series, and it just keeps getting better, volume after volume.

MICHELLE: I probably said this exact same thing last time, but I am totally committed to reading this series in the near future. Your description warms the cockles of my poor, withered heart. I also love how Rin gets progressively older on each cover. The series just ended recently in Japan, I believe, and I wonder if she makes it to adulthood by the end.

MJ: You will love it, Michelle. Really and truly. It’s one of my favorite manga series currently running.

So, what’s this mood-brightening card you’ve been holding onto over there?

MICHELLE: Only my beloved Skip Beat!

For those not in the know, this is the story of Kyoko Mogami, a teenager who was betrayed by her first love after she followed him to Tokyo and supported him while he made it big as a pop star. After learning how he really viewed her, she vowed to get even by surpassing him in show biz. This might sound a bit like Honey Hunt, but trust me, Skip Beat! is the better series.

For one, it focuses pretty intensely on Kyoko’s evolution as an actress. In this volume, for instance, she is practically living the role of Natsu, the leader of a group of mean girls, a part she initially had trouble getting into until she succeeded in differentiating it from another villainous role for which she’s become moderately well known. Although Kyoko does have a love interest of sorts (although she’s oblivious to his feelings) in fellow actor Ren Tsuruga, he appears for all of three pages. Instead, it’s all about Kyoko’s professional growth and the rivalry her ability to transcend a notorious role inspires in a costar who hasn’t been able to get beyond a certain part she played as a child.

It’s immensely satisfying to watch Kyoko embody a part, particularly when she had struggled to understand the character, even if the reactions of astounded spectators can sometimes be a little over-the-top in their appreciation. One thing that’s particularly neat is that when Kyoko acted opposite Ren early on in the series, he was able to coax a good performance from her simply from his own acting. Now she’s capable of doing the same thing with her costar, but doesn’t even realize it. She’s such a great character, normally kind-hearted and fond of girly things, but capable of summoning a demonic aura when she is wronged. When said costar pushes her down a flight of stairs, for example, her first concern is for an armload of sodas she was carrying, but then she laughs evilly and declares, “I’m going to have so much fun with this.”

Have I gushed sufficiently? Skip Beat! may be lighthearted, but it’s tremendous fun to follow Kyoko’s rise to stardom and to root for her and Ren to get together one day, though I’m certainly in no hurry about that. I’ve read twenty-three volumes without tiring of the series in the least, and would happily read twenty-three more.

MJ: You know I’m embarrassed to have never gotten into this series, and now I’m chomping at the bit as well! So much manga, so little time! This really sounds delightful. How many volumes are there in total?

MICHELLE: Volume 27 came out in Japan in February. I’m not spoiled on the goings-on, but I haven’t heard any murmurings of it ending any time soon.

So, if you started with the buoying title, does that mean your other one’s a bit of a downer?

MJ: Mmmm, I’d say “downer” is a pretty strong word, but it’s definitely dark and not as expertly crafted. My other read this week was the second volume of Kim Hyung-Min and Yan Kyung-Il’s March Story, due out soon from Viz.

This series is still very much finding its feet, and nowhere is this more obvious than in this volume’s storylines. While the series’ first volume fell pretty squarely in what’s become known as “Comeuppence Theater,” in which foolish or selfish characters suffer horribly for their vices, this volume leans heavily towards poignance and compassion–still dark, but with a very different tone.

As in the debut volume, “Ciste Vihad” March encounters a number of demons known as “Ill” who lurk in beautiful objects, hoping to possess unwitting humans. In this set of stories, however, most of the Ill are deliberately sympathetic characters whom March feels compelled to help rather than destroy. March’s associates, too, all fairly terrifying in the series’ first volume, have been quite humanized here, particularly the giant-headed Jake and supernatural antique dealer Rodin.

Quite a few of the tales are genuinely touching, involving Ill motivated by love or other emotional attachment they simply can’t let go of. Add in the series’ intricate, latticed artwork, and one must acknowledge some moments of real beauty. It’s a real step forward, I’ll happily admit. I like the series’ new, softer tone.

What this volume suffers miserably from, however, is a maddening lack of its title character. After finally winning us over in the first volume’s late chapters by getting us really invested in March, her creators have all but tossed her aside in favor of these “touching” episodes, sucking out some of the life they’d so painstakingly put into it.

I’m not giving up on this series by any means, and honestly I’d pick it up just for the pictures! But I’m not sure yet what kind of story this wants to be, and I’d guess its creators are (or were, at least) in the same boat.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it does sound pretty uneven. The progress of March’s relationships withi the demons reminds me a bit of Natsume’s Book of Friends, in which the yokai quickly establish themselves as sympathetic. I hope March Story evolves into something as nice as that series.

MJ: I’d be a bit surprised, if only because I think it’s got a different agenda. But there’s definitely stuff to work with if its creative team can find its feet.

So, hey, are you feeling better?

MICHELLE: Yep! And my internet seems to have stabilized. How’s the snow?

MJ: Pretty much petered out, at least for the moment it seems! I call this a job well done!

MICHELLE: I concur!

MJ: Well, goodnight then!

The Josei Alphabet: H

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“H” is for…

Hatenko Yuugi, written and illustrated by Minari (Maria Holic) Endou, serialized in Ichijinsha’s Comic Zero-Sum, currently at 12 volumes. This one’s a quest tale about a young girl out to see the world and the guy trying to avenge his father’s death. Oh, and they both use magic. Update: This has actually been partially published in English by Tokyopop as Dazzle.

Helter Skelter, written and illustrated by Kyoko Okazaki, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, one volume, published in French by Casterman. A gruesome and award-winning tale of obsessive beauty gone horribly wrong. Someone should publish this in English.

Heptagon, written and illustrated by Chiaki Hijiri, originally serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus, one volume. Usually, when a fictional adult gets the chance to relive their youth, that fictional adult is a guy. In this story, a twenty-something woman spends some time in her fourteen-year-old life.

Hi no Matoi, written and illustrated by Miku Inui, originally serialized in Ichijinsha’s Zero-Sum Ward, three volumes. This is about the son of a samurai who learns to be a firefighter.

Honey and Honey, written and illustrated by Sachiko Takeuchi, originally published by Media Factory, two volumes. Erica (Okazu) Friedman says this book “educates the nonke (straight/heterosexual) audience, explaining what lesbian life is about; the good, the bad, the annoying, the funny, with a cheerful attitude of ‘you’re a woman – you’ll understand what I mean.’” Erica also reviews its sequel, Honey and Honey Deluxe.

Licensed josei:

  • Happy Mania, written and illustrated by Moyocco (Hataraki Man, Sugar Sugar Rune) Anno, originally serialized in Shodensha’s Feel Young, published in English by Tokyopop, 11 volumes.
  • Haunted House, written and illustrated by Mitsuzaki (The Embalmer) Mihara, originally published by Shodensha, published in English by Tokyopop, one volume.
  • Honey and Clover, written and illustrated by Chica (March Comes in Like a Lion) Umino, variously serialized in Shueisha’s Chorus and Young You, published in English by Viz, 10 volumes.

What starts with “H” in your josei alphabet?

Reader recommendations and reminders:

  • Haigakura, written and illustrated by Shinobu Takayama, currently serialized in Ichijinsha’s Zero-Sum Ward, three volumes to date,
  • Hapi Mari, written and illustrated by Maki Enjouji, currently serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, six volumes to date, published in French by Kaze, due for release in German by Tokyopop.
  • Harutsuge Komachi, written and illustrated by Miyuki Yamagachi, originally serialized in Hakusensha’s Melody, four volumes.
  • Heart no Ousama, written and illustrated by Aki Yoshino, originally serialized in Shogakukan’s Petit Comic, one volume.
  • Hito Yuri Touge, written and illustrated by Miyuki Yamagachi, originally serialized in Hakusensha’s Melody, one volume.
  • Hotaru no Hikari, written and illustrated by Satoru Hiura, originally serialized in Kodansha’s Kiss, 15 volumes, published in French by Kana.

From the stack: Blue Exorcist vol. 1

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I would have loved to be a fly on the wall in the editorial meetings following the publication of the first chapter of Kazue Kato’s Blue Exorcist (Viz), because they must have been intense. That first chapter is terrible – bland, boring, and baffling, a triple threat in the realm of bad shônen. Aside from being ably drawn, it didn’t have a single aspect that would make me want to read the second chapter if I was a follower of Jump Square, its original home.

Someone at Shueisha, and possibly Kato herself, must have agreed, because the series rights itself completely in the second chapter and stays on course for the remainder of the first volume. It’s downright weird to see all of your complaints and criticisms answered in the space of a month. Even Viz must admit to this, since the free preview of the series is from the second chapter, not the first.

Blue Exorcist is about the son of Satan, Rin Okumura, but this fact has been kept from him by his foster parent, Father Fujimoto. Things go very badly when Rin learns this fact, but the experience leaves him with a goal – he wants to fight demons as an exorcist, even though his chosen profession views him as a likely threat and thinks everyone would be better off if he just died. It’s an awkward situation, compounded by the fact that Rin’s teacher at exorcist school is his fraternal twin, Yukio.

It’s nice to see another fraternal relationship as the crux of an action manga, what with the days of Hiromu Arakawa’s Fullmetal Alchemist (Viz) sadly numbered. Rin is rough around the edges, and Yukio is polished and restrained (and obviously much more studious than his elder twin). Beyond that, there are some dark undertones to their relationship. Yukio doesn’t have the burden of their demonic legacy, and he’s grateful for Rin’s protection throughout their sickly childhood. But Yukio is an exorcist, and his brother is half demon with very poor impulse control. It adds nice tension to the series.

It’s also nice to see Kato’s storytelling become sprightly and thoughtful after the first chapter’s muddle. There’s some solid resonance in the second and third chapters, and the supporting characters show a lot of promise. I’m particularly smitten with Mephisto Pheles, headmaster of the school for exorcists, the True Cross Academy. Mephisto looks ridiculous, both in human form and in those moments when he transforms into a dog (a West Highland White, if I’m not mistaken). He’s one of those grown-ups who seem more intent on amusing themselves than behaving in a strictly responsible fashion, and Mephisto certainly amused me, so I’d love to see more of him.

It seems like the fictional world of Blue Exorcist is moving towards some interesting coherence. The funny, quirky bits aren’t so ludicrous that they throw you out of the story, and Kato shows real flair in the more ostentatiously supernatural visuals. I wasn’t even bothered by the quasi-Catholicism of the whole affair, even though that’s almost always an indicator of a series I’ll despise. (For the record, that’s not due to any protectiveness for the Catholic church on my part. It’s just that manga Catholics are often the presented in exactly same kind of confusing cosplay fashion as manga vampires.) I didn’t find the demons very persuasive or interesting, but Kato seems to be building up a taxonomy.

Blue Exorcist really seems to have a lot of potential, which I never would have believed halfway through that first chapter. In fact, I’d suggest you skip that first chapter entirely, as its events are explained and reframed later (and better), and there’s really no reason to subject yourself to it. If you’re looking for an attractive shônen fantasy-adventure with a decent amount of wit and heart, it’s a likely candidate.

(These comments are based on a review copy provided by the publisher. You may remember that Blue Exorcist was a candidate in my first “readers’ choice” Previews experiment. Believe me, if it hadn’t shown up at random, I wouldn’t have bothered. It still sounds like a formulaic drag on paper.)