Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Features & Reviews

My Man Jeeves by P. G. Wodehouse: B-

by

Book description:
My Man Jeeves, first published in 1919, introduced the world to affable, indolent Bertie Wooster and his precise, capable valet, Jeeves. Some of the finest examples of humorous writing found in English literature are woven around the relationship between these two men of very different classes and temperaments. Where Bertie is impetuous and feeble, Jeeves is cool-headed and poised. This collection, the first book of Jeeves and Wooster stories, includes “Leave it to Jeeves,” “Jeeves and the Unbidden Guest,” “Jeeves and the Hard-Boiled Egg,” “Absent Treatment,” “Helping Freddie,” “Rallying Round Old George,” “Doing Clarence a Bit of Good,” and “The Aunt and the Sluggard.”

Review:
It grieves me to award a relatively low grade to My Man Jeeves, because I truly did want to like it, but the trouble is, if I may be allowed to borrow Bertie’s manner of speech for a moment, that the stories it contains are “dashed repetitive, don’t you know?” In fact, you too can write a story just like the ones in this book! Make a selection at each parenthetical prompt and you’re halfway there!

A friend of (Reggie Pepper/Bertie Wooster) is having trouble with a (rich aunt or uncle/woman) and is despondent because said person has threatened to (cut off his allowance/break off their engagement). (Reggie/Jeeves) comes up with a kooky idea to achieve the friend’s desired result and hijinks ensue.

The outcomes of the stories are all different, of course, and usually at least somewhat amusing. The story that varies the most from the formula above is “Doing Clarence a Bit of Good,” in which Reggie is summoned to the home of his former sweetheart, who has manipulated him thither with tales of an excellent golf course nearby but who really wants him to steal an ugly painting by her husband’s father. I probably should’ve seen the end result coming, but didn’t.

The relationship between Jeeves and Wooster is also enjoyable, with Wooster being terribly impressed by the “devilish brainy” Jeeves and occasionally rewarding him for his achievements by casting off ties, hats, or mustaches that have offended Jeeves’s delicate sensibilities. I’m a little sad that Jeeves’s intellect is used primarily for schemes of deception, though, and hope that won’t always be the case. There are a couple of occasions where he quietly works a solution of his own while Bertie is away, and I found those better examples of his cleverness than simply advising someone to pretend to have written a book on birds in order to appeal to a rich uncle with an ornithological bent.

There’s actually one story featuring Bertie and Jeeves that is even older than those collected here. “Extricating Young Gussie,” first published in 1915 and included in The Man with Two Left Feet in 1917, finds Bertie tasked with preventing the marriage of his cousin to a chorus girl. I had thought it was safe to save this ’til later, since Jeeves’s part is extremely small, but Bertie mentioned it a couple of times here so I’ll probably go ahead and tackle that one next.

Demon Sacred, Vols. 1-2

by

Demon Sacred is shojo manga’s answer to the everything bagel, substituting hot scientists, dragons, pop idols, twins, secret government research facilities, and time-traveling aliens for garlic chips and sesame seeds. That such an unlikely combination of ingredients proves complimentary is nothing sort of miraculous — it’s hard to imagine how rock stars and rifts in the space-time continuum could co-exist in the same manga without the whole enterprise descending into complete silliness, but Natsumi Itsuki walks the fine line between stupid and clever with the grace of a high-wire acrobat.

Consider the first three chapters of the series: in them, we’re introduced to Rena, the sole survivor of an incident involving unicorns; her fourteen-year-old daughters Rina and Mona, one of whom has developed a disease that causes her to age backwards; and the girls’ guardian Shinobu, a handsome, pony-tailed researcher who is toiling away on a cure for Return Syndrome and — natch — earned a PhD from Harvard before his eighteenth birthday. Those three storylines alone provide ample material for a good shojo fantasy, but Itsuki cranks up the narrative nuttiness to eleven in subsequent chapters, tossing in a handsome “demon” — in fact, a shape-shifting alien from another dimension — who knew the twins’ mother, and a second, more powerful demon who assumes the form of the girls’ favorite pop singer.

A cynic might dismiss these additional characters as pandering to teen girl taste, but Mika and K2 serve an important role in advancing the plot, shedding light on Rina and Mona’s past (Mom disappeared when they were four) and offering a potential cure for Rina’s condition. Ditto for some of the comic-relief episodes, in which K2 impersonates a real-life idol; if Itsuki always played it straight, the story would seem positively ludicrous instead of charmingly overstuffed. Remember, the opening pages of the series involve a stampede of unicorns emerging from the aurora borealis and trampling a group of tourists in the Finnish countryside. Even Madeline L’Engle didn’t have the guts to try that.

I’d be the first to admit that Demon Sacred isn’t as well constructed as Itsuki’s Jyu-Oh-Sei, a tight, logical exercise in hard science fiction; if anything, Demon Sacred feels freer and messier than her earlier work. That impression of spontaneity stems from the casual way in which Itsuki assembles plot elements, like a chef rummaging through the refrigerator and grabbing whatever looks appetizing. There’s no obvious rationale for inter-dimensional, time-traveling aliens to assume the form of mythical Earth-beasts, other than the fact it tickled Itsuki’s authorial fancy. Yet that kitchen-sink quality is a big part of Demon Sacred‘s appeal; I’d be lying if I denied my pleasure in seeing a character quote from the Book of Revelations, or imagining a universe in which griffins, unicorns, and fire-breathing dragons could assume the form of popular singers.

It’s hard to guess how Itsuki will resolve the myriad subplots introduced in the first two volumes, but the story unfolds in such a feverish, urgent fashion that it’s easy to forgive the occasional narrative shortcuts or capitulations to shojo convention. (See “hot young scientist” and “pop idols,” above.) Demon Sacred may not be the best new manga of 2010, but it’s a strong contender for most addictive.

Review copies provided by Tokyopop.

DEMON SACRED, VOLS. 1-2 • BY NATSUMI ITSUKI • TOKYOPOP • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Manhwa Monday: A Fan’s Lament

by 31 Comments

Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

There’s little to report in the manhwa blogosphere this week, a state of affairs I’ll address in just a moment, but first, let’s take a look at this week’s duo of reviews. First, at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson checks out the September issue of Yen Plus (Yen Press), now available online for the low, low price of $2.99 a month.

Three manhwa titles currently run in the online magazine, JiUn Yun’s Time and Again, JinHo Ko’s Jack Frost, and MiSun Kim’s Aron’s Absurd Armada, a Korean webtoon just recently added to Yen’s catalogue. Of these, Lori considers Time and Again the only must-read, though Aron’s is beginning to please. A few tidbits from her review:

“First up is Jack Frost, a title I haven’t been impressed with over the last three volumes … This chapter follows the routine that Jack Frost seems to have set up. Talking heads, panty shot, fight; lather, rinse, repeat. It would be nice to see that routine shaken up a bit. Many less panty shot and more plot? …

“I think Aron’s Absurd Armada is starting to grow on me. This month featured Ronnie, the girl they rescued last issue … It’s a good quick read …

Time and Again is one of the titles that made subscribing worth it. In this month’s chapter, we get to see into Baek-On’s past … This was the best chapter of the magazine, behind Nightschool. It was rather heartbreaking to finally see the truth.”

On the subject of Yen Press, Charles Webb takes a look at volume three of Jack Frost over at Manga Life.

Aaaaand that’s it for manhwa news this week, which brings me to the whining portion of this post. There’s been a dearth of manhwa-related activity online recently, and with the relatively sparse release schedule we’ve seen from most of the publishers who bring us manhwa, this can hardly be a surprise. It’s been nearly a year since I began the Manhwa Monday feature at Manga Bookshelf, and though we’ve seen quite a few series come to conclusion during that time, the loss has been balanced by very few new releases.

Even Yen Press, whose acquisition of Ice Kunion’s original catalogue has made them the most consistent publisher of (print) manhwa in English, has only begun three new series in 2010–One Fine Day, Laon and now Aron’s Absurd Armada (yet to reach print). Aside from There’s Something About Sunyool, NETCOMICS has been nearly dormant. DramaQueen’s brief revival with volume one of The Summit has seen no further activity to my knowledge. Udon’s series, Apple notwithstanding, remain on hiatus. Dark Horse has begun nothing new. Tokyopop??? And with the exception of Fanfare/Potent Mon’s Korea As Viewed By 12 Creators, the mid-season poll conducted here in June is still an accurate representation of new releases this year.

So what gives? Is the manhwa slowdown just an inevitable symptom of the industry’s woes overall, or is there something else at work?

I know that this blog’s readership consists mainly of manga fans, a group that has not been entirely welcoming of manhwa as a whole. Yet every week, as I search for content for this column, I slog through Google alerts filled with reviews and discussion of scanlated manhwa, so clearly it’s being read and enjoyed. Is it just that nobody’s buying?

So, in an entirely unscientific fashion, I invite–nay, plead with you, dear readers, to respond with a comment to this post if you actually buy manhwa (and if you don’t, feel free to tell me why). And while you’re there, why don’t you take the opportunity to talk about some series you’d like to see licensed!

That has been the end of my whining for the week.

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

Chi’s Sweet Home, Vols. 1-2

by 3 Comments

Chi’s Sweet Home, Vols. 1-2 | By Konami Kanata | Published by Vertical, Inc. – Chi’s Sweet Home is the very sweet story of a lost kitten who is rescued by a family whose apartment building does not allow pets. Originally serialized in Kodansha’s seinen magazine, Morning, it is endlessly cute and monumentally charming. What’s immediately striking about the series, however, is how much more it is than just a “very sweet story.”

Even from the very beginning, there is a darker side to this tale. Chi spends nearly half of the first volume trying to get back to her mother, while her tiny kitten memories slip away, bit by bit. Though she eventually settles in happily with her new family, her first days with them are mainly spent in panic, a truth of which they are entirely unaware.

This is a recurring theme throughout the first volume of the series, not Chi missing her mother, per se, but the lack of effective communication between humans and cats. In volume two, this is taken a step further, when Chi meets an older neighborhood cat who warns her not to trust humans too much.

“And what does ‘twust’ mean?” Chi asks.

“To think they’re your kind. Cuz they aren’t your kind,” the cat replies. “I scratch their backs, they scratch mine.”

Not that this cynical tone reflects the author’s intent. It’s made clear throughout that whatever lack of understanding may exist between Chi and her human family, the love is real, and certainly Chi’s innocent acceptance of her humans’ love and care makes her a much happier kitty than her jaded counterpart appears to be. But what’s also clear is just how vulnerable cats are to the whims and choices of their human caretakers, who may not know or care how well they are serving the needs of their feline houseguests.

As a long-time cat owner, mangaka Konami Kanata hits upon one of my greatest worries over the years–that, thanks to the communication barrier, my pet may be unhappy or even ill without my knowledge. Kanata’s message is a reassuring one. Though this may indeed be true, she says, speaking through Chi’s innocent, wide eyes, it’ll all be okay as long as there’s love.

This gentle touch is just what the doctor ordered for overly-anxious adult readers, but it also serves as a real teaching tool for new cat owners, especially the very young. A child reading Chi may even find herself schooling her parents on “what kitty really wants.”

And children will read Chi’s Sweet Home. Published by Vertical “flipped” left-to-right and in full color, Chi’s Sweet Home is the family-friendly manga we’ve all be waiting for. Its tiny feline protagonist is uniquely poised to appeal to readers of all ages, and even very young readers will find its image-heavy narrative easy to follow. Kanata’s simple, expressive art tells her story so clearly, it’s a series most of us could probably follow even if Vertical had printed it in the original Japanese.

That said, I’m glad they didn’t, because their adaptation is truly dear. Though Chi’s cartoonish, childlike speech (based by Kanata on Tweety from Looney Toons fame, according to translator Ed Chavez) might have easily come off as cloying or contrived, alongside Kanata’s jubilant artwork, it’s just plain cute. The language is clear and true to its characters, both human and cat. From translation to paper quality, these books were obviously produced with care. Each volume is a delectable treat for the senses. All warm ambers and sweet pastels, Kanata’s artwork dances brightly over crisp, white pages, within a soft, matte cover that is even pleasant to the touch.

At the heart of it all, though, is Chi. She’s feisty, sweet, surprisingly poignant, and possibly the very key we’ve all been looking for to help bring manga into non-otaku western households. On Christmas morning this year, my family’s getting Chi’s Sweet Home. How about yours?

Review copies provided by the publisher

Breaking Down Banana Fish, Vols. 7-8

by , , , , and 16 Comments

Hello faithful shojo fans, and welcome again to our roundtable, Breaking Down Banana Fish!

This month we take on volumes seven and eight, in which Ash brings his war straight to Arthur’s doorstep and Papa Dino’s bank account, playing both cutthroat businessman and cold-blooded killer, while Eiji does his best just to keep Ash human. Blackmail, introspection, and an epic subway battle ensue.

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).

Read our roundtable on volumes one and two here, volumes three and four here, and volumes five and six here. On to part four!
…

Read More

Manga Artifacts: Magical Mates

by

It’s hard to remember a time when the only translated manga featured explosions, monsters, and naked women, but for most of the 1980s and 1990s, manly-man manga was the norm; American publishers barely acknowledged that female comic fans existed in or outside Japan. There were licensed manga with female protagonists, to be sure, but The Legend of Mother Sarah and Mai The Psychic Girl were clearly written for male audiences, as the reductive tagline on Mai‘s front cover attests: “She is pretty. She is psychic. She is Japanese.” (Read: “She might go out with you.”) That began to change in the mid-1990s, when a few publishers made the then-radical decision to introduce manga for girls. VIZ released Moto Hagio’s They Were Eleven (1995) and A, A’ (1997); Mixx made a hit out of Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon (1997); and Antarctic Press, home of Ninja High School and Hurricane Girls, dabbled in shojo with Mio Odagi’s Magical Mates (1996).

If VIZ took the high road, introducing readers to one of Japan’s most influential and beloved creators, and Mixx took the middle road, courting female fans of Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers and the Sailor Moon anime, Antarctic took the cheap road, licensing a self-published work by an obscure artist. The fact that Magical Mates reached American shores at all had more to do with who Odagi knew than the quality of her work. As Jason Thompson explains in a recent House of 1000 Manga column, Odagi was a member of Studio Do-Do, a small group of artists that had an inside connection at Antarctic Press: Ippongi Bang, whose friendship with Antarctic staffers helped open the door for her fellow Studio Do-Do artists.

Flipping through the six issues that comprise Magical Mates, Mio Odagi’s lack of skill is painfully obvious. The stories — which focus on a trio of tarot-reading, spell-casting teens — abound in the kind of poorly drawn panels and non-sequitors that would make a Hana to Yume editor pull out her hair. Odagi lavishes considerable attention on her characters’ eyes, rendering their irises and lashes with a meticulous precision that’s fundamentally at odds with the slapdash way she draws the rest of their bodies. She also struggles with backgrounds; her characters often appear to be floating above the picture plane, unencumbered by gravity.

Each story revolves around a romantic entanglement of one sort or another: in “Love on a Friendship Bracelet,” for example, Rinko, Kana, and Noemi help the manager of the boys’ soccer team express her feelings to the arrogant star player, while in “The Priestesses’ Love Letter,” the girls play matchmaker for the class brain and the rock guitarist she secretly adores. Not much connects the episodes, save for running gags about Rinko’s vanity — she vies with Kana and Noemi to be the “star” of the series — and about Rinko’s long-suffering suitor Eiji, a short, bespectacled nerd with an alter ego: The Student President of Darkness, a malicious teen who carries out Eiji’s darker wishes.

The Student President of Darkness gag embodies what’s good and bad about Magical Mates. Eiji’s frequent transformations are the kind of problem that could easily be fixed by logic or a lanyard; the fact that he’s always absent when the President is sabotaging a soccer match or flooding a water park doesn’t seem to register with Rinko or her friends. Yet for all the suspension of disbelief that Eiji’s Jekyll-and-Hyde persona demands, these transformations serve an important function, adding a badly needed element of emotional authenticity to Magical Mates; Eiji’s jealousy feels more real than anything else in the series, providing a reliable source of comic relief and dramatic conflict.

More striking than the stories themselves is Antarctic Press’ attempt to position Magical Mates as a comedy that older male readers would enjoy. Each issue featured advertisements for comics such as Warrior Nun Areala, Codename: Scorpio, and the NC-17 vampire comic Tabou, which had a tie-in with an adult film. Though the covers seem less deliberately calculated to appeal to male readers than the advertising, issue four is a notable exception: all three girls have been given a sexy makeover with super-long legs, savage tans, and skimpy bathing suits that are completely out of character. The one fan letter that Antarctic published — which appears on the back page of issue four — comes from a male reader who complains that he doesn’t like Magical Mates‘ cover art or title. “It’s got that Sailor Moon stigma,” he notes. “I hope readership picks up, and that people don’t get the wrong idea and think this is some sort of bland children’s comic.”

With the benefit of hindsight, it’s easy to fault Antarctic for treating Magical Mates as something other than a “children’s comic,” as its tone and episodic structure seem best suited for young readers. Yet at the time Mates debuted, there was no obvious market for girls’ manga. The Sailor Moon anime was just beginning to reach female audiences here in the US — it was still two years away from becoming a big hit — and American publishers had been neglecting the female comics market for decades. Antarctic made a logical gamble, presenting Mates as a wacky comedy starring three cute girls rather than a wacky comedy written for girls, never acknowledging that Odagi’s artwork, plotlines, and sensibility owed a significant debt to the magical girl genre.

Had it been marketed differently, Magical Mates still might not have found an audience — Moto Hagio, after all, bombed with readers, despite her impeccable pedigree and formidable talent. Yet Mates is significant because it anticipated the kind of shojo that caught on with American girls in the following decade, with its focus on romance, wacky hijinks, and unabashedly teen pursuits, from telling fortunes and swapping love charms to visiting amusement parks.

Readers curious about Magical Mates can find inexpensive copies of all six issues on eBay; note that Antarctic initially planned a nine-issue series, but canceled the last three.

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

BL Bookrack: Four from DMP

by and 10 Comments

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

This month we take a look at four manga from Digital Manga Publishing, Cafe Latte Rhapsody, Garden Sky, and The Tyrant Falls in Love from their Juné imprint, and Double Cast from DokiDoki.

Cafe Latte Rhapsody | By Toko Kawai | Published by Juné | Rated 16+ – Freckled and good-natured Hajime Serizawa works at a book store. One day, while attempting to fill an order, he comes across a huge customer with a piercing glare. Serizawa’s scared of him at first, but when the customer kindly fetches a book that the diminutive Serizawa can’t reach, he wonders if his first impression was mistaken. Further observations reveal that the huge customer is the kind of guy who tidies up books misshelved by other customers and saves abandoned kittens in the rain. In other words, not scary at all!

Serizawa learns that the customer’s name is Keito, and they strike up a friendship initially based upon finding the kittens a home. Keito discovers that Serizawa is gay when the latter’s no-good former lover comes by to hit Serizawa up for money, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. Little by little, they fall in love and it’s just about the sweetest, cutest thing on the planet.

Rather than the story fizzling at this point, it actually gets even better. Serizawa, at 23, has been in relationships before but none ever worked out. Even now, when it seems he’s finally found a fairy-tale love, he’s thinking of the day when it’ll all have to end. As readers, we also get to know him better when it’s slowly revealed that he’s not actually as cheerful as he appears—he has some deep-seated insecurity, especially about his looks, which prevents him from expressing annoyance when the girls at work start to show an interest in Keito. He feels like he’s so unattractive, it wouldn’t be fair to ask Keito not to notice them, and instead he goes in the opposite direction and almost seems to encourage their hopes.

Sweet, cute, complicated in a very human way… these are the ingredients of some of the best BL! Toko Kawai also has a gift for staging some very natural-feeling conversations between her characters. They’re not always talking about their feelings—sometimes they talk about coffee or food they dislike, and even seem to be a pair of science nerds, though that’s not dwelt upon too much. The one complaint I could really make is that the art is a little rough, but it’s not in any way detrimental to a truly charming love story.

I’ve read a few things by Toko Kawai now and there was not a one among them that I didn’t like. In fact, I think Café Latte Rhapsody has solidified my status as an honest-to-goodness fan.

-Review by Michelle Smith

Double Cast | By Ellie Mamahara & Takana Mizuhashi | Published by DokiDoki | Rated 16+ – Yuki Yamamuro is a charismatic idol whose stage work in a modern adaptation of Goethe’s Faust is just a way of killing time while he waits for his stalled television career to revive. When he fears that the young actor double-cast in his role may be making moves on his producer (and occasional lover), Otaki, he tries to manipulate his rival into falling for him instead. Unfortunately for Yuki, the other actor, Sawaki spots his efforts a mile away, setting up a level of rivalry between them that Yuki is neither emotionally nor artistically prepared to face.

The promotional copy for this manga is filled with phrases like “seemingly innocent” and “game of love.” With words like these in mind, one imagines a cast of sexy idols sharing arch glances and little substance–at best a sly, humorous romp. What Double Cast actually offers, however, is a surprisingly insightful and even touching exploration of insecurity, confidence, ambition, and art.

Initially portrayed as an arrogant player (both for the story’s audience and in the character’s own mind), Yuki’s emotional deterioration is swift and true, betraying the inherent vulnerability of anyone whose self-worth and livelihood are both reliant on the approval of strangers. Both the challenges he receives from his better-trained rival and the truths revealed by his nurturing producer are perfectly calculated to either ruin him or save him, depending on your point of view. Meanwhile, Sawaki’s bitterness over the natural charisma of his less-educated (and arguably less-talented) co-star is palpable, manifesting itself as both resentment and desire, neither of which conforms to his high ideals or his careful career plans.

That the story’s theatrical setting is one of a handful in which a cast of characters made up almost entirely of gay men seems genuinely plausible surely adds to its realistic feel, but there is really very little fantasy involved here at all. Aside from whatever liberties may be taken with the workings of the Japanese entertainment business, the characters’ emotional journeys feel very authentic to their necessarily self-centered careers.

Mamahara’s artwork is attractive, if uneven. Though the visual storytelling flows well, her male characters in particular feel stiff and awkward, with expressionless faces outside of their occasionally haunted eyes. She has better luck with her few female characters. Yuki’s ambiguous girl friend, Kaho, is downright luminous (as is her adorable pet cat) offering a refreshing contrast to the stony-faced leads and perhaps deliberately creating sympathy for a girl who is ultimately destined for heartbreak.

And “refreshing” is really a key word here. Emotionally complex and surprisingly thoughtful, Double Cast falls into the all-too-rare category of single-volume yaoi I’ve truly enjoyed reading. Recommended.

-Review by MJ

Garden Sky | By Yuko Kuwabara | Published by Juné | Rated 13+ – Garden Sky is technically a short story collection, but the stories within focus on just two sets of characters. In the first, the child-like Kami-sama (God) is lonely. While watching the pond of human lives one day, he spots an idiotic fellow who has just been shot by a jealous lover and is about to die. Figuring that bringing a dead person back as a companion does not violate the laws barring him from interfering in the lives of humans, he rescues the man, dresses him in white clothing, and dubs him Shiro (white).

Shiro’s crazy for chicks and when there aren’t any in Heaven, he convinces Kami-sama to let him pick a woman friend and, together, the three of them will become a family. As luck would have it, the woman Shiro picks turns out to be a ninja with the magical ability to change genders and she is really he, whom Kami-sama dresses in black clothes and names Kuro (black). While spazzy Shiro initially pesters reserved Kuro to adopt his feminine form, he somehow realizes that Kuro still does it for him even though he’s a guy. They seem to be growing closer and then… the story’s over.

The next set of stories, “Go East,” is more of a typical fantasy. Raiho and Yukito are students at a training school for taimashi, or fighters who combat the bevy of monsters roaming the countryside. In looks and personality, they are nearly identical to the protagonists of the earlier stories, but while Raiho is exuberant and rather clueless and Yukito is more serious, both are driven to achieve their goal of being sent to vanquish a dangerous dragon god. A decade before, a group of taimashi were dispatched to the dragon god’s lair, including Yukito’s father, thus providing Yukito’s motivation. Raiho just likes fighting monsters. They complete the task assigned by their boss to test whether they’re worthy to undertake the journey and then… the story’s over.

See a pattern here? Both tales are very light on substance, feature the same types of characters, and go absolutely nowhere in the end. They’re pretty boring while they’re underway, for that matter. The one aspect I did like is the art—it’s not groundbreaking or anything, but it’s clean and easy to read and there’s just something about the way she draws profiles that I find appealing.

Garden Sky is a disappointment. Even if you’re in the mood for a bit of fluff, surely there exists some in which stories actually conclude in a satisfying manner!

-Review by Michelle Smith

The Tyrant Falls in Love, Vol. 1 | By Hinako Takanaga | Published by Juné | Rated 18+ – Tetsuhiro Morinaga is a university student with long-held feelings for his vocally homophobic sempai, Souichi Tatsumi. Though he’s grateful that Tatsumi is willing to remain friends with him even after discovering his feelings, their close relationship actually makes the situation more difficult for Morinaga, until finally he loses control and takes Tatsumi by force.

It’s no secret how little I enjoy rape as a catalyst in BL manga, and in most cases, a premise like this would turn me off of a series completely. The frequency with which rape is used as a precursor to romance in this genre is enough to make my head spin. What makes The Tyrant Falls in Love stand out in the din, however, is how expertly the relationship between its characters is developed from the beginning, and how that changes the tone of the whole story–even the dreaded rape. To be clear, this scenario is no less disturbing to me than in any other BL rape fantasy, but far more interesting in its development and execution.

Takanaga’s skill as a writer is evident from the beginning. With sure, broad strokes she paints her main characters, letting us know exactly who they are in the very first pages, and cementing their relationship with little more than body language and a few pieces of dialogue. Her drawing is expressive and the humor is spot on. The rape itself happens less than two chapters into the volume, but even by then, and even with the use of a device so ridiculous it basically boils down to a love potion, these characters have been so firmly established, it’s not at all difficult to believe the scene as played.

It’s all sickeningly believable–Morinaga’s careful manipulation of his own thoughts to justify actions he knows are deeply wrong, the sheer horror on Tatsumi’s face as he realizes that he’s not safe with the person he trusts most–every piece of this scene rings true. And even afterwards, as Morinaga withdraws from the school in shame, the relationship between the two of them has been so well-drawn, it’s not at all unbelievable that Tatsumi might feel devastated at the loss, to the point of offering forgiveness to the person who has betrayed him in the worst way he can imagine.

Unfortunately, it’s after this that Takanaga gives in to cheap fantasy, satisfying her readers’ immediate romantic desires but sacrificing her characters in the process. Given the deep relationship between her main characters, there may indeed be a way to believably move them towards actual romance, but pushing them into a never-ending predator/prey cycle as she does here (one that is played for humor, no less) is definitely not it.

Though Takanaga’s expressive artwork and deft characterization are a significant draw, this volume ultimately disappoints. For hard-core fans only.

-Review by MJ

Review copies provided by the publishers.

Complete Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde: A

by

From the back cover:
A celebrated playwright and poet, Oscar Wilde also penned incomparable nonfiction and fiction—and lovely gem-like fairy tales. Filled with princes and nightingales, mermaids, giants, and kings, his tales carry the mark of his signature irony and subtle eroticism. This volume brings together all the stories found in Wilde’s two collections, The Happy Prince and Other Tales and A House of Pomegranates. Published here alongside their evocative original illustrations, these fairy tales, as Wilde himself explained, were written “partly for children, and partly for those who have kept the childlike faculties of wonder and joy.”

Review:
I was first made aware of the fairy tales of Oscar Wilde by Stephen Fry, whose recording of six of the stories is nothing short of delightful. This print edition has its charms, too, including three additional tales as well as illustrations and a great introduction that acquaints readers with not only the tragedies of Wilde’s life but with the fond recollections of his friends. I’d say it’s worthwhile to invest in both.

Wilde published two collections of children’s stories and both, obviously, are included here. On one level, the stories are amusing and imaginative, featuring a bevy of talking animals—whom Wilde often uses for satirical purposes, as with the mother duck in “The Devoted Friend” who frets that her children will never be in “the best society” unless they can stand on their heads—and even a sentient firework with delusions of grandeur. Often, though, a surprising degree of darkness is also present, as various characters die, realize the suffering they have caused others, commit valiant acts of self-sacrifice for ultimately no purpose whatsoever, and persist in their misguided ways despite the best attempts of others to show them the light.

In these stories, Wilde mingles the fantastic with the quotidian and the heartwarming with the bittersweet in a way that really appeals to me. Here are my three favorite examples (spoilers ahead):

In “The Nightingale and the Rose,” a nightingale overhears a student bewailing his plight: the woman he loves has agreed to dance with him at an upcoming event if he brings her a red rose. Alas, there are no red roses in his garden. The bird, believing him to be the very embodiment of true love, which she is always singing about, tries everything in her power to procure such a flower for him, ultimately deciding that it’s worth sacrificing her own life for the sake of love. And what is the recipient’s reaction to the rose when it is presented to her? “I’m afraid it will not go with my dress.” It ends up in the street and is promptly run over by a cart. The end.

A similarly awesome ending can be found in “The Star-Child.” One winter, a pair of poor woodcutters are returning to their homes when they see what appears to be a falling star land nearby. When they get there, they find a baby, and one of the men takes it home. The boy grows up fair and comely and becomes vain and cruel because he is convinced of his own lofty origins. One day, a beggar woman shows up to claim him as her son, but he rejects her. This action renders him ugly, and he spends the next three years in search of the woman to beg her forgiveness, learning mercy and pity along the way and sincerely repenting of his former actions. A happy ending seems imminent when he not only gets his looks back but is revealed to be a prince, but Wilde concludes the story (and A House of Pomegranates as a whole) with the following paragraph:

Yet ruled he not long, so great had been his suffering, and so bitter the fire of his testing, for after the space of three years he died. And he who came after him ruled evilly.

The end. Is that not amazing?

My very, very favorite story, though, is “The Happy Prince.” Once upon a time there was a prince, and he was happy while he lived in his isolated palace and remained ignorant of the world outside. After his death, the townspeople erected a beautiful, gilded statue in his honor and set it on a tall column, from where he can see (with his sapphire eyes) all the misery in the city that he could not see before. One day, a swallow—delayed in departing for warmer climes because of his devotion to a fickle reed (“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other swallows. “She has no money and far too many relations.”)—lands near his feet and becomes the messenger for the Happy Prince, plucking out his jewels and stripping off his gold and delivering them to the poor and needy.

The swallow eventually succumbs to the cold, but not before sharing a kiss with the statue he loves. The mayor, once he notices how shabby the statue has become, decides that one of himself would do much better and pulls it down. Here, instead of a wholly sad ending, Wilde offers up a sweeter alternative that sees both the statue and the bird rewarded for their benevolence. It’s an immensely satisfying tale that also portrays pure love between two males, though they be not human; I like it immensely.

The one author of whom I was reminded while reading these stories is Neil Gaiman. I’m now convinced he was at least partly inspired by Wilde, so, if you’re a fan of his short stories, you might like these as well!

Manhwa Monday: Drama Dreams

by 1 Comment

Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

With so little manhwa currently available in English, fans have long realized that one of the best ways to preview some of what we’re missing is by checking out the plethora of Korean dramas available for streaming at sites like Crunchyroll and DramaFever, many of which are based on popular manhwa.

While the vast majority of manhwa currently published in English fall into just one or two primary genres, the range of K-dramas available to English-speakers is much, much broader, offering us a more balanced representation of what’s actually available in Korea.

For this reason, many manhwa fans not only keep up on currently running K-dramas, but also those in production. One example is the upcoming series, Daemul (대물), based on the manhwa by In-Kwon Park, about a woman who becomes South Korea’s first female president and her relationship with a male escort.

K-drama blog Dramabeans has been reporting on the series’ progress from the start, and though excitement was high early on, new promo photos have begun to indicate that the drama may not quite maintain the reportedly dark tone of the manhwa series.

When Daemul was first announced, I was pretty excited about it, particularly the more I read up on its source material. It seems the manhwa is pretty dark and flirts with racy topics … It seemed like a mature, adult story that could be quite interesting … Add political intrigue, conspiracy plots, and a thriller vibe, and we’ve got some interesting dynamics in play.

Before the drama airs, I can’t say for sure what the tone will be like, but the fact that it evokes none of that abovementioned stuff leads me to wonder just how whitewashed the story has become.

Even if the drama does prove to be a watered-down adaptation, as a manhwa fan, I just find myself wishing that someone would license a manhwa like this over here. I guess we’ll wait and see.

In other news, ANN reports that the South Korean government has released a piece of manhwa propaganda in an attempt to quell distrust among the nation’s youth. For more, check out the Bloomberg report.

Aspiring webtoon publisher iSeeToon has reported in their blog that they are delaying their launch until October.

At ComicBitsOnline, Terry Hooper laments the increasingly stunted efforts to bring manhwa and manhua to the UK.

This week in reviews, Michelle Smith takes a look at recent volumes of Sarasah (Yen Press) in last week’s Off the Shelf column at Manga Bookshelf. And at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson checks out the final two volumes of You’re So Cool (Yen Press).

That’s all for this week!

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

Hetalia: Axis Powers, Vol. 1

by

To say that Hetalia: Axis Powers has a devoted fanbase is like saying that Cookie Monster is partial to Oreos; it’s the kind of series that inspires fans to write their own Hetalia stories by the truckload (there are over 14,000 posted at FanFiction.net), dress up as their favorite countries, and debate the virtues of various characters with quasi-religious intensity.

Part of Hetalia‘s appeal lies with the artwork: manga-ka Hidekaz Himeyura populates his stories with cute, attractive young men in lavishly detailed military costumes that are tailor-made for cosplay. The other part of Hetalia‘s appeal lies with its cheerfully subversive premise: all the major participants in World War II are represented as petulant bishies whose behavior mimics the way these countries interacted in the 1930s, and whose personalities conform to well-rehearsed national stereotypes. Whether or not you cotton to Hetalia will depend largely on whether you find the underlying concept a stellar example of the Japanese ability to kawaii-ify anything or proof that Japan’s younger generation doesn’t grasp just how terrible World War II really was.

I fall somewhere in the middle of the continuum: I’m not offended by Hetalia, but I’m not amused, either. Himaruya has certainly done his homework, seeding the dialogue with salacious historical tidbits and inserting flashbacks to major European wars of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, yet he never challenges the basic stereotypes that guide all the characterizations: Japan is prissy and horrified by European cuisine, England views America as his ill-behaved offspring, America loves hamburgers and talks with his mouth full, Germany is efficient and belligerent, and Northern Italy adores pasta and shirks responsibility. The endless stream of nationality-as-destiny jokes grows tiresome quickly; imagine spending an afternoon with someone who insists on referring to the French as “cheese-eating surrender monkeys” every time you mention a recent trip to Paris, and you have some idea of how stale the better gags become on their third or tenth repetition.

From time to time, Himaruya inserts the kind of pointed, tasteless joke that suggests at true subversion. In one scene, for example, Germany finds himself at a supermarket check-out, fuming because Korea is holding up the line, demanding reparations and an apology for how he’s been treated. A more skilled writer could have done something with this moment, perhaps using it as a jumping off point for exploring the complicated relationship between Japan and Korea. Instead, Himaruya treats this moment as just another wacky example of a country behaving according to national character, as if Korea’s legitimate protests over Japanese occupation were akin to Italians loving red wine or Russians placing ineffectual curses on their enemies. I’m mildly horrified to contemplate how Himaruya will treat German anti-Semitism — a personal quirk?

Which brings me to my biggest criticism of Hetalia: Axis Powers: there’s a strong whiff of pointlessness about the whole enterprise. Himaruya goes to great pains to get the history right, but it’s never clear what the series’ underlying message really is; why depict one of the ugliest, most brutal periods in human history as a cute, interpersonal drama if you’re not trying to make some greater point about the folly of international alliances, or the dangers of aggressive nationalism? I have no doubt that Trey Parker and Matt Stone could run with the Hetalia premise and turn it into something genuinely funny, rude, and intelligent, but Himaruya just doesn’t have the historical insight or the courage to do much with the material except make all the participants look very pretty.

Review copy provided by Tokyopop. Volume one of Hetalia: Axis Powers will be released on September 21, 2010.

HETALIA: AXIS POWERS, VOL. 1 • BY HIDEKAZ HIMARUYA • TOKYOPOP • 152 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Living Dead in Dallas by Charlaine Harris: B-

by

From the back cover:
Cocktail waitress Sookie Stackhouse is on a streak of bad luck. First, her coworker is murdered and no one seems to care. Then she’s face-to-face with a beastly creature that gives her a painful and poisonous lashing. Enter the vampires, who graciously suck the poison from her veins (like they didn’t enjoy it).

Point is, they saved her life. So when one of the blood-suckers asks for a favor, she complies. And soon, Sookie’s in Dallas using her telepathic skills to search for a missing vampire. She’s supposed to interview certain humans involved. There’s just one condition: the vampires must promise to behave—and let the humans go unharmed. Easier said than done. All it takes is one delicious blonde and one small mistake for things to turn deadly…

Review:
The narrative of Living Dead in Dallas is constructed in a plot-within-a-plot sort of way, but neither the murder of Sookie’s vibrantly gay coworker, Lafayette, nor the fight against an anti-vampire cult is actually the most interesting aspect of the book.

The story begins when Lafayette’s body is found dumped in the car of a local cop. Suspicion falls on the attendees of a mysterious sex party he’d been bragging about attending, but before anything much can happen with the case, Sookie and Bill head off to Dallas to do a job for Eric, the head vamp of their region, which involves Sookie using her telepathic abilities to question humans who might have knowledge about a missing vampire named Farrell. She’s not too thrilled about it, but she did agree to perform such jobs for Eric on the condition that the humans involved come to no harm, and so she complies, however sulkily.

Really, there is not much by way of investigation here. Instead, they realize pretty quickly that a cult called The Fellowship of the Sun has nabbed the vamp and then Sookie and another human go undercover to learn the cult plans to have him “meet the dawn” in a public execution. Of course, Sookie is spotted for a snoop immediately and is imprisoned and nearly raped before she, and later Farrell, gets rescued. For something so full of action, it’s actually pretty dull.

However, it does lead to one of the most awesome scenes in the series so far when Bill breaks a promise to Sookie and kills one of the cultists who shot up the vampires’ celebration party. Her immediate reaction is great and I loved that she returned home and didn’t talk to him for three weeks. Unfortunately, the potential of this insurmountable obstacle in their relationship—Bill sometimes can’t help eating people!—is squandered, with the two of them reconciling with a bout of raunchy sex and a few words about how it’s his nature and she’s going to try to get used to it. Sigh. Color me disappointed.

After the missing vamp stuff is resolved, the story returns to the case of Lafayette. I’m a little fuzzy as to what actually happened first here—did the town residents launch their own sex club, which then attracted the attention of Callisto, the frenzy-provoking maenad, or was it her proximity that inspired them in the first place?—but it all leads to the second-best revelation of the book, which is that some of Bill’s descendants are alive and well in Bon Temps and that he is actually grateful for the opportunity to be able to assist them in some way. He might be a creature of the night, but as she puts it, the good in him is real.

Club Dead, coming soon!

Toto! The Wonderful Adventure, Vols. 1-5

by

If you’ve ever been to Canal Street in New York City — the Counterfeit Capital of North America — you know that there are two types of goods for sale there. The first are inept knock-offs: the “Cooch” purse with plastic handles, the “Rollex” with cubic zirconia insets and a flimsy metal band. The second are just as fake as the first, but are executed with enough panache that style-conscious women get a secret thrill in owning them: the plastic “Birkin” bag that looks like the real thing but costs $30, the canvas “Louis Vuitton” wallet that comes in prettier colors than the original.

The same principles apply to manga as well: there are series which shamelessly imitate a best-selling title like Dragonball or InuYasha, rehearsing the same plot without capturing the original’s charm, and there are copycats which bear a strong resemblance to the original but nonetheless work well on their own terms. Toto! The Wonderful Adventure falls into the latter category, a good-natured rip-off of One Piece and Rave Master that accomplishes in five volumes what many shonen series need twenty or thirty to pull off.

As one might guess from the title, Yuko Osada dresses up his swashbuckling treasure hunt with frequent allusions to Frank L. Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. The hero, Kakashi (literally, “scarecrow”), is an orphan who dreams of leaving his small island home for grand adventures, but lacks the brains to realize his ambition. When a zeppelin makes an unscheduled stop on the island, he stows away, thus beginning an odyssey that loosely mirrors the plot of Baum’s novel. Kakashi finds a puppy in the ship’s cargo hold, then meets a feisty teen named Dorothy who attends St. Kansas Academy, practices “tornado” senjutsu (a martial art involving spinning kicks), and plans to visit Emerald City. As Kakashi and Dorothy follow the Yellow Brick Road — here played by an old railway line — they acquire traveling companions, each modeled on one of Baum’s iconic characters: Noil, a kind but cowardly soldier who aspires to be a comedian; Dam, a big, blustering army officer with a metal arm; and Paisley, the Northern Investigator for the W.I.T.C.H. organization.

Central to the story is the relationship between Kakashi and Toto, the puppy he rescues in volume one. Though Toto initially appears benign, he has a big secret: his collar grants him the kind of amazing, destructive powers that make him of special interest to the military. It doesn’t take long before Kakashi and Dorothy find the Western army bearing down on them, anxious to reclaim their lost weapon.

Though the story’s Oz jokes add novelty value, Toto! barks like a typical wacky shonen adventure, with lengthy set-pieces that follow the same basic formula: Kakashi et al. arrive in a town, befriend one of the locals, and narrowly evade capture by the army. Some of these story arcs are genuinely delightful; in volumes two and three, for example, Kakashi and Dorothy stumble into the once-glorious Dego City, a former railroad hub that’s been stripped bare by the Imperial Army in its never-ending quest for scrap metal. The heroes’ getaway is executed with a perfect mixture of suspense and humor, culminating in a scene that Miyazaki would be proud to include in one of his films. Other storylines feel more labored. In volumes four and five, for example, Kakashi and friends get swept up in a feud between rival gangs: Alice and the Wonder Family in one camp, the Uchiyaka (literally, “rabbit gun”) in the other. Osada piles on the Lewis Carroll references, double- and triple-crosses, and crazy shoot-outs, but the frenzied pace and frequent jump cuts render these chapters almost incoherent.

At times, Osada’s dogged capitulation to shonen formula invites not-so-flattering comparisons between Toto! and more popular series. He populates his story with a dim but determined hero (with a dead explorer father, no less), a feisty female sidekick, a comic-relief character with an outsized Afro, and a posse of villains-turned-allies — in this case, a group of sky pirates called the Man Chicken Family. Osada even provides a complex mythology to explain Toto’s power — something involving twelve directions and twelve “accessories” — that feels like a complete afterthought, an editor’s attempt to make Toto! behave more like One Piece or Rave Master.

Yet for all Kakashi’s earnest declarations about “family” and “adventure,” and all the wacky villains, epic battles, and amazing artifacts pilfered from One Piece and Rave Master, Toto! has undeniable charm. The characters have great rapport, for one thing; though their interactions follow the standard shonen model of friendly antagonism, their obvious loyalty to and affection for one another is contagious. The girls are on equal footing with the boys, for another; Dorothy and Paisley prove stalwart and resourceful, getting significant butt-kicking turns in the spotlight. The art is terrific, too; Osada’s crisp linework and vivid caricatures evoke Eiichiro Oda and Hiro Mashima’s styles without feeling slavishly derivative of either.

Best of all, Toto! is brief. By the time the series concludes, Kakashi has realized his life’s greatest goal: to see the world with friends. It’s not clear whether volume five was intended to be the final installment, or if the editors at Weekly Shonen Magazine canceled it prematurely; either way, Toto! The Wonderful Adventure is proof that a hero’s journey from ignorance to enlightenment needn’t take fifty volumes to convincingly achieve.

TOTO! THE WONDERFUL ADVENTURE, VOLS. 1-5 • BY YUKO OSADA • DEL REY • RATING: TEEN (13+)

Off the Shelf: O the Yule Log, Fear its Might

by and 9 Comments

Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with MJ & Michelle! I’m joined, once again, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, we take a look at some recent titles from Tokyopop, Viz Media, and Yen Press.

MJ: There’s a chill in the air here in western Massachusetts–great weather for curling up with a blanket and a good book. I expect that’s not the case at all down your way, but I’m hoping you’ve read some anyway. You know. So the column won’t suck.

MICHELLE: Well, no one could call it chilly but our highs are now merely in the low 90s, so that’s a definite improvement! With the absolutely essential help of central air I have indeed managed a fair amount of reading this week!

MJ: Hallelujah, central air! So… anything noteworthy?

MICHELLE: Some! I thought I would take this week’s selections in ascending order of preference. And so, accordingly, I start with the first volume of The Witch of Artemis, a new series from TOKYOPOP.

In this shonen fantasy series, originally serialized in Comic Blade, orphaned Kazuhi is living a bland existence on Earth and spends a lot of time daydreaming about Artemis, a star that was the subject of many stories his late father told him. As the stories go, the people of Earth and the people of Artemis once lived together, but eventually those with special magical powers departed earth to settle on Artemis. Conveniently, Kazuhi overhears a news report about a girl in strange clothes—why the news would report this, I do not know—and dashes to the scene, whereupon he meets one witch, whom we later learn is named Viora, who inflicts a death curse upon him, and another, called Marie, who whisks him off to Artemis in order to cure him.

Marie is most textbook example of a tsundere character I have ever seen. After curing Kazuhi, she berates and insults him, trying to get him to leave her alone, but when he finds out she wants to do good deeds for people, he volunteers to help and, despite her crusty exterior, she still does things like follow him around when he goes off wandering to ensure he doesn’t come to harm. The second half of the volume depicts their first joint effort at helping someone, and includes an ominous hint from Viora that the world is on the verge of ending.

I might possibly have made this sound better than it is. So far, it’s rather bland. The art is pleasant, but not distinctive, and the characters and plot are the same. There’s always potential inherent in ominous hinting, and so I’m willing to read a second volume to see where the story goes—and, indeed, the series is only three volumes long, so if I’ve read two-thirds of it I might as well go all the way—but at this point I don’t have high hopes that it will ever be anything more than pleasant but not distinctive….

Read More

Manhwa Monday: Review Round-up

by 3 Comments

Welcome to another Manhwa Monday! After several weeks with very few manhwa reviews to share, things are finally picking up!

My pick for this week is David Welsh’s look at volume one of There’s Something About Sunyool (NETCOMICS) at The Manga Curmudgeon. Though NETCOMICS hasn’t offered any new chapters of this series since the end of June, there’s still some buzz around the series’ debut print volume, which will hopefully lead to many more! Here are some tidbits from David’s review:

The title of Youngran Lee’s There’s Something About Sunyool (Netcomics) is accurate, though it takes a while to figure out what that something is and if you’d like to see more of it. By the time I’d finished the first volume, she had gone from blandly quirky to confidently madcap, and I was very much in her corner.

… I always feel a certain resistance to arranged-marriage comedy, particularly when it isn’t a period piece, but Youngran Lee approaches it with such a bemused smirk that it’s hard to get too bogged down in my western perceptions … I’m looking forward to seeing her refuse to suffer new fools and roll with life’s nastier punches as the series progresses.

Read David’s full review here, and check out the comic at NETCOMICS.com.

At RocketBomber, Matt Blind posts the latest manga ratings, including his new manhwa breakout. Volume six of Bride of the Water God (Dark Horse) has the best showing this week, by far, coming in at #48 in the rankings overall.

This week brings a couple of new reviews of Sirial’s One Fine Day (Yen Press), with Danica Davidson weighing on on volume two at The Graphic Novel Reporter and Chris Zimmerman checking out the very new volume three at Comic Book Bin. Here’s a quick quote from the latter: “One Fine Day is closer to a slice of life tale than it is a fantasy, though there is a healthy intermingling of the two. Despite its length and overall lack of any real development of a plot to speak of, the series delivers on its promise of adorable characters experiencing what it means to live. Those in search of uplifting moments as a means to brighten their day need look no further.”

Zimmerman also reviews volume three of Laon (Yen Press) this week, offering up one of the most positive reviews of the series I’ve seen so far. “Laon doesn’t fall into any one classification. While it remains firmly steeped in the paranormal, it can just as easily switch to horror or action. While some might find this to be jarring, the fact that the series can branch into so many genres adds to its appeal, keeping the audience guessing while it continues to tell a unique story.”

Finally, at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson has little positive to say about the latest volume of Jack Frost (Yen Press). “I was hoping for an improvement with this volume, but unfortunately was denied … After two volumes, nothing has changed or improved in Jack Frost. It’s still a barely average title with no discernible direction.”

That’s all for this week!

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

The 9/11 Report: A Graphic Adaptation

by

Modern governments from the Bolshevik regime to the Bush presidency have sought simple, appealing ways to present complex information to their citizens, from “Red Pinkerton” novels (think politically correct Communist detective stories) to televised public service announcements. Ernie Colon and Sid Jacobson’s The 9/11 Report: A Graphic Adaptation is one such effort, produced with the full cooperation of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States. The goal: to summarize the Commission’s findings in a concise, visually arresting format that would appeal to readers reluctant to tackle the full 500-page document. Unfortunately, the final product falls well short of the mark, offering a dense, confusing gloss on the Commission’s work that I found harder to read than the actual prose report.

One can’t fault Colon and Jacobson for their fidelity to the original material. Their book follows the report closely, down to the chapters and subheadings, and uses the Commission’s own words to explain the events that precipitated the 9/11 attacks. In their efforts to mimic the structure of the original document, however, Colon and Jacobson seldom find the right balance between text and image; most of the artwork feels more like an afterthought than a clarification of the prose. More frustrating is the book’s choppy visual flow; Colon and Jacobson’s panel placement often seems poorly chosen, making it difficult to read the images and text boxes in the correct sequence.

The artwork, too, is a disappointment, an eclectic assortment of traced elements, computer-generated graphics, maps, photo-realistic drawings, and Silver Age character designs that never mesh into a seamless whole. (It’s particularly odd to see some real-life figures get the cartoon treatment, while others are rendered in a naturalistic fashion; as depicted in The 9/11 Report, Condolezza Rice bears a striking resemblance to Lucy van Pelt.) Though Colon and Jacobson generally avoid visual stereotyping, there are a few unfortunate images sprinkled throughout the book. On page 115, for example, there’s a chart outlining strategies for combating Muslim extremism in the Middle East and Southeast Asia. The chart is embellished with several images of hook-nosed, squinty-eyed, turban-wearing terrorists, one of whom grins menacingly at the reader, rocket launcher perched on his shoulder; surely the problem of global terrorism deserves a more sophisticated treatment than cartoonish, racist typecasting.

The most effective section of The 9/11 Report is the very beginning, in which Colon and Jacobson meticulously recreate the morning of September 11, 2001. They present the sequence of events twice, first depicting what happened aboard the four hijacked airplanes, then reconstructing the official response to these same events, documenting the jurisdictional confusion and poor communication that prevented the government from taking more decisive action. Both passages consist of four horizontal timelines that allow the reader to see, at a glance, what was happening aboard all four planes on a minute-to-minute basis. (In the hardbound edition, these timelines are printed on a single piece of paper which readers can unfold to view the entire sequence of events.) Here, the comics medium seems uniquely suited to showing these events simultaneously, giving the reader a much better appreciation of just how quickly the day’s events unfolded, and how difficult it was for anyone — military commanders, aviation authorities, police and fire officials — to know how to proceed.

It’s a shame that the rest of The 9/11 Report doesn’t utilize the format as effectively as these early pages, where image and text function as co-equal partners. Whatever the flaws of the original report — and, depending on your political inclinations, those flaws are either minor factual errors or egregious omissions of evidence implicating the CIA in bringing down the World Trade Center — it is a more effective, compelling narrative than the one Colon and Jacobson fashioned from it.

THE 9/11 REPORT: A GRAPHIC ADAPTATION • BY SID JACOBSON AND ERNIE COLON, BASED UPON THE FINAL REPORT OF THE NATIONAL COMMISSION ON TERRORIST ATTACKS UPON THE UNITED STATES • HILL & WANG • 134 pp.