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Follow Friday: The Aggregators

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There are a lot of great manga bloggers and critics to follow in the manga blogosphere, but one particular type of blogging that helps to fill the empty hours comes from the aggregators, the linkbloggers, the brave souls who read everything on the internet so we don’t have to. Most manga bloggers dabble in aggregation from time to time (me included), but there are a few regular stops you can always count on to give you what you need.

We begin at MangaBlog, of course, the mother of all manga linkblogs. Though writer Brigid Alverson also brings us occasional (always insightful) commentary and reviews, the staple of her blog is the daily link roundup, making this the first stop for nearly every manga fan I know. To keep up on the latest posts (and great conversation as well) you can also follow Brigid on Twitter @BrigidAlverson.

For daily comics news (not just manga), check out Dirk Deppey’s Journalista over at The Comics Journal. You can follow Dirk on Twitter @deppey.

One of my favorite weekly features online has become Kate Dacey’s Friday Procrastination Aids at her blog, The Manga Critic. Filled with thoughtful picks from around the blogsophere, you can count on Kate’s good taste to get you through the day! Find Kate on Twitter also as @manga_critic.

Lastly, for a condensed look at the previous week’s happenings in the manga blogosphere, rely on Lori Henderson’s This Week in Manga at her blog, Manga Xanadu. Lori provides quite a bit of commentary along with her weekly links, which makes it a pretty meaty feature for your Saturday afternoon reading. Follow Lori’s Twitter feed @MangaXanadu.

Now, go forth and read!

Many thanks to Kuriousity‘s Lissa Pattillo for the idea for this feature. You should follow her too! Look for Follow Friday here on the second Friday of each month.

Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse

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At some point in your travels through high school English, a teacher probably made you read Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” a short story about a rural community that routinely sacrifices one its members to ensure a good harvest. I remember writing a paper about “The Lottery” my freshman year. Like many of my classmates, I critiqued the story’s dramatic aspects — the shocking twist, the ethics of the townspeople’s ritual — and neglected to say much about Jackson’s prose. Re-reading “The Lottery” as an adult, it’s obvious what I missed the first time around: Jackson’s singular ability to make the banal sinister through the selective presentation and repetition of seemingly inconsequential details.

Consider “The Summer People,” a short story from 1950. Jackson lavishes considerable attention on the title characters’ day-to-day activities such as buying groceries in town; one might reasonably infer it was a slice-of-life story about New Yorkers experiencing mild culture shock in backwoods New England. By the story’s end, however, it becomes clear why Jackson documented the Allisons’ routine in such detail; the townspeople have been observing the Allisons, viewing every gesture or action as a further violation of the unspoken agreement between residents and summer people that the out-of-towners go home by Labor Day. We don’t know what, exactly, happens to the Allisons for breaking the contract — Jackson leaves that to the readers’ imagination — but we’re left feeling deceived and unsettled, as if we ourselves had been the target of the year-rounders’ wrath.

It seems fitting, then, that Japanese horror novelist Otsu-ichi was nominated for the 2009 Shirley Jackson Award, as he has a similar flair for transforming ordinary situations into extraordinary ones. In “Yuko,” the second entry in Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse, for example, a young woman takes a job working for a childless couple, one of whom is bedridden. A small but noticeable change in their nightly dinner routine arouses her suspicion that something is amiss between her employers, setting in motion a chain of events that culminate in a scene of comic horror.

The title story, too, pivots on a few carefully chosen details, as two children conspire to hide the corpse of a playmate who fell to her death. Throughout the story, Otsu-ichi describes the children eating ice cream, a simple motif that seems, at first, to be offered as evidence of the children’s struggle to conceal their guilt by engaging in normal activities. In the final pages of the story, however, that seemingly benign habit is cast in an entirely different light, forcing us to reconsider everything we’d believed about one of the story’s secondary characters.

Only the third and final story of the collection, “Black Fairy Tale,” deviates from this pattern, instead offering a mixture of urban legend and B-movie horror in book form. It’s an ambitious story, with several interlaced threads, including a dark fable about a crow who befriends a blind girl, and a teenager who loses her eye and her memory in an accident, only to have them replaced with a murder victim’s. There’s also a subplot involving a serial killer who carries out ghastly experiments on people, transforming them into monsters and holding them captive in his basement. Though Otsu-ichi skillfully maneuvers among the various storylines, maintaining sufficient suspense throughout the story, “Black Fairy Tale” is a less rewarding read than “Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse” or “Yuko,” both of which rely more on psychological manipulation than cheap shock tactics to scare the reader; Otsu-ichi’s descriptions of the killer’s surgeries elicit a visceral, immediate response, to be sure, but prove less unsettling or memorable than the behavior of “Summer”‘s true villain.

Good horror operates on a deeper level as well, showing us how greed, hypocrisy, and conformity tear at the very fabric of society. I think that’s one of the reasons we continue to read Jackson’s work; stories like “The Lottery” and “The Summer People” offer a window into the conservative, conformist culture of the 1950s, that brief moment before the Civil Rights Movement, feminism, the Pill, and the Vietnam War radically altered the American landscape. Jackson’s characters live in terror of upsetting the status quo; their greatest fear is to be exposed as an outsider or an outlier of any kind.

The pressure to conform to parental and peer expectations — a frequent motif in contemporary Japanese comics, cinema, and literature — plays a similar role in Otsu-ichi’s “Black Fairy Tale.” Nami, its amnesiac heroine, is an obvious example. Before her accident, she was a model student, musician, and daughter, basking in others’ approbation; when a head injury robs her of the the ability to do well in school or play a Chopin ballad, her peers and parents begin to ostracize her, writing her off as a shy, inept loser. Throughout the story, she wrestles with her desire to reconcile her new and old personalities; only by embracing and acting on the memories left behind by her left eye’s previous owner — a loner and a college dropout — does she begin to appreciate the possibility of living the life she chooses, rather than the one her parents had planned for her.

Would Jackson have recognized the parallels between her work and Otsu-ichi’s? Aside from Otsu-ichi’s occasional detour into Clive Barker-esque excess, I’d say yes; Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse is a solidly crafted collection of psychological horror stories, the best of which prove as spooky and thought-provoking as “The Lottery” and “The Summer People,” not least for the way in which Otsu-ichi finds the uncanny in the everyday.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC.

SUMMER, FIREWORKS, AND MY CORPSE • BY OTSU-ICHI, TRANSLATED BY NATHAN COLLINS • VIZ (HAIKASORU) • 300 pp.

3 Things Thursday: Shojo Manga

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Welcome to a brand new weekly blog feature at Manga Bookshelf, 3 Things Thursday! For the inaugural edition, I’m going to begin by breaking the rules straight off.

In a recent Manga Out Loud podcast, one of my favorite manga critics, Ed Sizemore, mentioned casually that he hadn’t read much good shojo. While the definition of “good” is likely to vary greatly from critic-to-critic on a topic so subjective, I figured I’d start my 3 Things off by listing three currently running shojo manga I think are especially worthwhile. And since so many of my favorites are older manga, I’ll cheat a bit by also listing three “classic” manga I recommend as well. These are not to be taken as my “TOP ThrEE FAVORITES OF ALL TIME” by any means, but rather three of each that simply spring to mind. I do think it’s interesting to note that every single one of them is/was published by Viz Media. So here goes!

3 favorite current shojo series:

We Were There | Yuki Obata | Viz Media – Few manga out there have affected me on a personal level as deeply as this one has. From my review of volume one:

“What’s nice about this manga is its simplicity and quiet honesty … The characters’ greatest obstacles are themselves, just like in real life … To achieve this, We Were There takes popular manga stereotypes and turns them into real people. In place of the clumsy, helpless shojo heroine, we have Nana, who is exactly as awkward as any average girl entering a new school, no more, no less … In place of the brooding, dangerous love interest (or its inverse–the shining, popular prince), we have Yano, who is often thoughtless, occasionally kind, and though he is definitely hiding some real pain behind his carefree image, is mostly just confused about his feelings, much like most teenaged boys.”

More reviews here.

Crown of Love | Yun Kouga | Viz Media – This dark, complicated tale of ambition and obsession will be complete in four volumes as of November 2nd. From my review of volume one:

“Crown of Love is the retelling of an older series by mangaka Yun Kouga, originally serialized in 1988. That series was only two volumes long, with an ending described by the artist as “abrupt.” … where Kouga succeeds, and stunningly so, is in her characterization. There are no shojo stereotypes here, despite appearances … The fact that the characters seem to know just how screwed up they are is what rescues them from being too disturbing to bear … As always, Kouga’s art is a highlight of her work. There’s something essentially cheerful and straightforward about her layout and designs that gives a story like this an even darker tone than it might have with a more overtly sinister look. Also, though the story is far from light-hearted, there is a clarity to Kouga’s visual storytelling that keeps it from becoming mired in its own weight.”

More reviews here.

The Story of Saiunkoku | Sai Yukino, Kairi Yura | Viz Media – A brand new favorite, this series got my attention immediately with its complicated characterization and strong female lead. From my discussion of volume one:

“Despite the fact that I’d heard positive buzz about this series … I admit I was more than skeptical. The manga’s opening chapter didn’t do much to sway me, either, with its gag sensibility and creepy romantic overtones … Fortunately, it quickly became clear that my first impressions were just wrong … though the story first seems to be crafted out of the same, tired tropes … each of these standard elements–the happy-go-lucky heroine, the over-the-top humor, the contrived matchmaking–becomes fresh and even insightful in Sai Yukino’s hands … Like all of us, the roles they each play with each other are the result of everything they’ve had to do to survive their lives so far. Nobody is perfect (or even perfectly evil, at least from what we’ve seen), and since flawed characters are generally the most compelling in any story, this makes for a very rich experience overall.”

Full discussion here.

3 favorite “classic” shojo series:

Basara | Yumi Tamura | Viz Media – This multi-volume epic is a must-read for any fantasy/adventure fan. It also features a fantastic female lead who manages to be both vulnerable and kick-ass throughout. From Michelle Smith’s review of volume 25:

“I admit it: I cried. At things happy, sad, and both at once. I’ve invested three years in this series and can happily say that it was worth it. I’m not going to give any details on how things go down, so suffice it to say that the ending is very satisfying. I must’ve reread the last few pages three times to savor all that Sarasa had accomplished … Basara is probably the best manga I have ever read. Thanks, Viz, for taking a chance on it.”

Does any more need to be said?

Expect a full-out ode to this series here sometime in the near future.

Banana Fish | Akimi Yoshida | Viz Media – I probably have written more about Banana Fish than anyone ever should, but this story of gang wars, organized crime, drug trafficking, and government intrigue actually is one of my favorite series of all time. From Making the case for Banana Fish:

“Sure, this story is about street gangs, organized crime, blah blah blah, but what it is really about is this relationship between Ash and Eiji, and how it changes them both throughout the course of the series … I finished volume 19 (and the post-series one-shot, Garden of Light) months ago, and it still sticks with me, the story of these two, haunting the back of my mind in some way all the time … My husband once asked me, “Is Banana Fish yaoi?” and my immediate response was, “I wish”. . . What I meant was that I wish I’d ever read a boys’ love manga as interesting and well-plotted as Banana Fish. I’ll take that a step further. I wish I’d read more manga in general as interesting and well-plotted as Banana Fish, and I read a lot of manga.”

More posts here.

Please Save My Earth | Saki Hiwatari | Viz Media – Everything I need to say about this series I’ve said before. “A group of teenagers who share collective memory through their dreams about their former lives as alien scientists observing earth from the moon?? You could not possibly come up with something more appealing to the twelve-year-old me.” From History of a Daydreamer:

“Four volumes in, I said to friends, “It’s like they removed my teenaged brain and stuck it on paper for all of Japan to read.” This only became more true as I continued through the series. The plot is dense and complicated, mostly revolving around the tangled relationships and jealous rivalries that extend far beyond the characters’ past lives and in to the present … What’s really stunning about this story is how well and how believably the young characters carry their adult past-selves. As far-fetched as some of the plot manages to get, I absolutely believed every word and look from these characters…”

Read it all here.

Readers: What are three of your favorite shojo series? Tell me in comments or in your own blog!

Off the Shelf: All About the Hair

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

Back from our pre-NYCC break, Michelle and I take some time to discuss recent releases from Viz Media, and Vertical, Inc, and Digital Manga Publishing.

MJ: So, after a weekend at New York Comic Con, where I enjoyed the opportunity to discuss manga with a bunch of smart fans and critics, I have returned home to this column… where I enjoy the opportunity to discuss manga with a smart fan and critic.

I spend money on cons why?

MICHELLE: Actually, I’m kind of relieved I didn’t spend a bunch of money to go, given the paucity of new manga licenses, although I admit not getting to meet people as a result is a serious drawback.

MJ: Well, I think the company right here is pretty good. Though, as I gaze at my dinner of frozen pizza, I’ll admit that the food in New York was better.

In any case, with or without new manga licenses, we have plenty of current titles to discuss right here. Why don’t you start us off?

MICHELLE: Alrighty.

This week I got caught up with Rumiko Takahashi’s latest series, RIN-NE. I used to read each new chapter of this series online, but fell out of the habit, and had volumes three and four here demanding my attention. RIN-NE is an episodic supernatural comedy from the pages of Shonen Sunday and features Rinne Rokudo, a “sort of” shinigami whose chief character trait appears to be stinginess, and Sakura Mamiya, a human girl who can see spirits and who helps Rinne bring closure to those hanging around their school and send them off to the wheel of reincarnation.

Volume three introduces a new character, Tsubasa Jumonji. He’s an exorcist, though he seems to think all ghosts are evil, and immediately asks Sakura to go out with him. She’s not enthusiastic but doesn’t exactly reject him, either, which troubles Rinne. Even though he tells Sakura he has no interest in going out with anyone, he’s beginning to ponder what she means to him. For her part, Sakura is incredibly level-headed and calm, to the point where neither boy has any inkling what’s really going on in her head.

Still, Tsubasa becomes a part of the gang and the trio contends with the ghost of a boy who would like one fun date with the girl he liked before passing on, a toilet-haunting spirit, evil mechanical pencils, and Rinne’s mooching dad, who is the president of a damashigami (a corrupt shinigami who harvests the souls of those not yet destined to die) company and intends for Rinne to inherit. An incredibly over-the-top fight ensues, which I can’t fully describe except to say that it features a giant slab of wagyu beef and a mysterious stranger in a seal costume.

To look at RIN-NE objectively, I admit that this is quite a lot of wacky hijinks with very little payoff in terms of plot or character relationships. Still, it’s kind of… homey and pleasant, which is just what one needs sometimes. Plus, the tiny dribbles of romantic angst ensure that I’ll be coming back for more….

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Manhwa Monday: Post-Con Blues

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Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

The past week was all about New York Comic Con for us here at Manhwa Bookshelf, and manhwa certainly made itself known at this year’s con.

Booth 2265 was the place to be for manhwa fans, where the Korea Creative Content Agency (KOCCA) set up shop, promoting manhwa in big, blue letters and offering up comics in both Korean and English for sale at 4-for-3 prices.

As I predicted last week, KOCCA’s English-translated manhwa was provided via NETCOMICS, whose Vice President, Soyoung Jung, was onsite throughout the con. Though I was only able to chat with her briefly, the state of the booth’s inventory by Sunday afternoon spoke for itself, indicating that first volumes (at least) of most series were snatched up early on.

My personal manhwa score included a few middle volumes of BL favorite Totally Captivated to round out my collection, and volume two of historical fantasy Kingdom of the Winds.

KOCCA’s booth was both recognizable and easily visible at a distance, making it one of the most effective of its kind at the con.

Though none of the convention’s attending publishers had new manhwa licenses to announce, the most promising news came from Yen Press, whose newly announced iPad app (launching at the end of this month) will include some of its Korean titles to be downloaded as complete volumes for roughly $8.99 apiece.

In other news, allkipop.com releases photos of actress Moon Geun Young’s transformation into her character, Wi Mae Ri, for the upcoming mini-series Mary Skipped the Curfew, based on a Korean webtoon. Based on what I’ve seen so far, this can be added to my list of “manhwa I wish were available in English.”

And in the manhwa blogosphere, Lori Henderson updates her list of Halloween manga to include two recent manhwa series, girls’ horror manhwa Reading Club from Udon Enterainment and ghost-story manhwa Time and Again from Yen Press.

That’s all for this week!

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

Bakuman。 2 by Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata: B+

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From the back cover:
Average student Moritaka Mashiro enjoys drawing for fun. When his classmate and aspiring writer Akito Takagi discovers his talent, he begs Moritaka to team up with him as a manga-creating duo. But what exactly does it take to make it in the manga-publishing world?

After Moritaka and Akito collaborate on a manga together, they venture to publishing house Shueisha in hopes of capturing an editor’s interest. As much potential as these two rookies have, will their story impress the pros and actually get printed?

Review:
The second volume of Bakuman。 picks up where the first left off, with artist Moritaka Mashiro and writer Akito Takagi taking the final draft of their one-shot manga to Jump headquarters for consideration. This kicks off a series of fascinating meetings (spanning from summer vacation to the start of the next school year the following spring) in which the boys receive feedback from their editor, Hattori, and try to create a story that will be popular enough to merit serialization.

I loved all the meetings with Hattori, especially how specific he was about story and art requirements for Jump and how, as the boys improved, he went over their storyboards panel-by-panel with useful suggestions. As befits shounen protagonists, Mashiro and Akito are both very talented, but they’re not instantly the best around and go through many ideas and an immense amount of work before they’re able to craft something that is worth publishing.

When they finally do manage to get a story published, it takes third place in the popularity poll for that issue. The winner is Eiji Nizuma, a fifteen-year-old mangaphile who has been drawing since the age of six and practically does nothing else. He’s an exceedingly weird kid, but he fulfills the Akira Toya role here of “genius rival of comparable age.” He’s the first obstacle our leads will have to overcome, and I think it’s pretty fun how this is shaping up to be a sort of tournament manga.

Unfortunately, I’m still bored and fairly annoyed by Mashiro’s relationship with classmate Miho Azuki. They’ve pledged to marry once their dreams come true, but in the meantime aren’t even going to date. To some extent I understand—it’s suggested that Miho’s in favor of this because she wants to be able to focus on her dream without being distracted by Mashiro—but they still hardly know each other. Thankfully, Miho’s friend, Miyoshi, finds this just as bizarre. Also, while the overt, spoken sexism is absent from this volume it’s not exactly absent from the characters’ behavior. At one point Mashiro informs Miho that they’re going to be together when he becomes a manga artist, whether she’s realized her dream (to be a voice actress) or not. Nice, kid.

Though Bakuman。 has some flaws, it’s still an utterly captivating look at the manga-creating experience. I can overlook a banal relationship plotline if it means getting a glimpse inside the editorial process at Jump!

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Wait for What Will Come by Barbara Michaels: B-

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Book description:
The last of an ancient Cornish clan, Carla Tregellas has inherited her historic ancestral home: a massive mansion looming high up on the jagged cliffs of Cornwall. From the moment Carla takes possession of the grand manor she feels right at home, warmly welcomed by everyone—except the strange and secretive housekeeper, Mrs. Pendennis, who warns the new owner of the tragic, inevitable fate that will surely befall her if she does not depart at once. But Carla cannot leave, for the unseen bonds of a dark family curse are beginning to tighten… and a demon lover waits.

Review:
I’m not sure what it is, but sometimes I just crave something by Barbara Michaels.

Like most of the books by Michaels that I have read, Wait for What Will Come features a plucky heroine and an old house. Carla Tregellas, a math teacher from Boston, is surprised to inherit a somewhat decrepit mansion from a distant relation in Cornwall. Her initial impulse is to sell the place, but once she sees a photo, she’s smitten and decides to at least pay a visit before putting it up on the market.

Upon practically the moment of her arrival, Carla is acquainted with the family legend, which says that every 200 years a young woman of the family is claimed by some sort of sea demon. The last occurrence was exactly 200 years ago and, wouldn’t you know it, Carla looks a great deal like her ancestor who went missing at that time. Carla’s an unimaginative and practical sort and discounts the myth, but strange things start happening—seaweed in her room, a distorted portrait—that soon have her on edge.

A bevy of attractive men happens to be handy, and most of them have the hots for Carla (the exception being the vicar, who probably has the vicarly equivalent). The fellows help her look into the origins of the legend and execute timely rescues, but most seem to want to get her out of town in a hurry. After the characters spend most of the book sightseeing, socializing, and/or engaging in lackadaisical research, all of a sudden they’re confessing to dastardly deeds and revealing unconvincing romantic inclinations, and it all seems to come out of nowhere.

In retrospect, the plot’s pretty thin, but I liked the setting and the characters enough that I enjoyed their interactions, until Michaels realized she’d better wrap things up and everything went a little crazy. Still, the final resolution is satisfying enough and I’m happy that a cat got to be a hero, in its way. This isn’t the best by Michaels that I’ve read, but it was sufficiently diverting.

The 14th Dalai Lama: A Manga Biography

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Reading The 14th Dalai Lama: A Manga Biography, I was irresistibly reminded of a quip attributed to Thomas Carlyle: “A well-written life is almost as rare as a well-spent one.” Though the Dalai Lama has lead one of the most exemplary lives in recent memory, demonstrating uncommon wisdom, patience, and pragmatism in his efforts to publicize Tibet’s plight, Tetsu Saiwai’s paint-by-numbers biography reduces the Dalai Lama from a worldly religious leader to a saintly cipher.

Saiwai’s work takes its inspiration from Freedom in Exile, the Dalai Lama’s 1991 autobiography, and Kundun, its subsequent adaptation by Martin Scorsese. Like Kundun, The 14th Dalai Lama focuses on the first twenty-odd years of Tenzin Gyatso’s life, from 1937, when he was pronounced the reincarnation of the previous Dalai Lama, to 1959, when he fled to Dharamsala, India, to escape escalating violence between Tibetan nationals and Chinese military forces. Many of the scenes in Saiwai’s book have analogues in Scorsese’s film: we see Tenzin Gyatso correctly identify objects that belonged to his predecessor, thus revealing himself to be the next Dalai Lama; we watch him spend time with Austrian mountaineer (and former SS officer) Heinrich Harrer, a relationship explored in the film Seven Years in Tibet; and we follow him to Beijing, where Chairman Mao exploits the Tibetan leader’s sincerity and youthful naivete for propaganda. Saiwai also offers numerous — if brief — scenes dramatizing the Chinese invasion of Tibet in 1950, showing us both the internal disagreement within the Dalai Lama’s advisory circle and the growing unrest in the streets of Lhasa.

Readers familiar with Scorsese’s film will experience deja vu reading Saiwai’s work, as the manga feels like a shot-by-shot remake. It isn’t, of course, but it’s hard to escape the feeling that Saiwai relied too heavily on Scorsese’s movie for guidance on what events to include in the narrative.

The comparison between the film and the manga reveals another drawback to The 14th Dalai Lama: it lacks the visual drama of Kundun. One of the movie’s most arresting aspects was its cinematography; though Scorsese’s crew wasn’t allowed to film in Tibet (most of the movie was shot in Morocco), the art director collaborated with Tibetan cast members to meticulously recreate the costumes, religious ceremonies, and interiors of the Potala Palace. Almost every frame of the movie was saturated in rich color — azure skies, crimson robes, golden objects — an almost painterly affectation that suggested the radiance of a Titian canvas. Saiwai’s unadorned, grayscale artwork, by contrast, seems impoverished; there’s very little detail, even in his depictions of religious rituals, and his efforts to represent Tibet’s rugged terrain barely suggest how dry and unforgiving the landscape can be.

What Kundun and The 14th Dalai Lama share, however, is an uncritical, even devotional, attitude to their subject. In his 1997 review of the film, Roger Ebert contrasted Scorsese’s saintly portrayal of the Dalai Lama in Kundun with his all-too-human depiction of Jesus in The Last Temptation of Christ:

Kundun is like one of the popularized lives of the saints that Scorsese must have studied as a boy in Catholic grade school. I studied the same lives, which reduced the saints to a series of anecdotes. At the end of a typical episode, the saint says something wise, pointing out the lesson, and his listeners fall back in amazement and gratitude. The saint seems to stand above time, already knowing the answers and the outcome, consciously shaping his life as a series of parables.

In Kundun, there is rarely the sense that a living, breathing and (dare I say?) fallible human inhabits the body of the Dalai Lama. Unlike Scorsese’s portrait of Jesus in The Last Temptation of Christ, this is not a man striving for perfection, but perfection in the shape of a man.

The same could be said for Saiwai’s work: in almost every scene, the Dalai Lama displays preternatural wisdom, sagely counseling those around him. We never see the Dalai Lama in exile, when he faced new challenges to his regime’s authority — moments that might reveal him to be a more human, more canny individual than is suggested by the carefully selected episodes from his early life. I say this not to criticize the Dalai Lama, but to recognize him as a spiritual leader with uncommon insight into the modern condition, as someone who regularly engages members of the scientific community, who intelligently uses mass media to disseminate Buddhist teaching, and who views his faith not as a set of practices to be unquestionably preserved and transmitted to future generations, but as a religion capable of evolving; can you imagine the Pope speculating that his successor might be a woman?

Like his portrayal of the Dalai Lama, Saiwai’s characterization of Chinese-Tibetan relations is devoid of nuance. Saiwai characters’ explain in simple, stark terms what Chinese “modernization” efforts meant for Tibet: devastation of natural resources, and systematic efforts to erradicate the indigenous language, agricultural practices, and religion. (In the introduction to Essential Tibetan Buddhism, Robert Thurman notes that fewer than twenty of the country’s 6,267 monasteries remain open.) Yet nowhere does Saiwai address the long and fraught relationship between China and Tibet — a serious omission, as this history helps explain why China viewed Tibet as part of its territory, and why other nations were reluctant to acknowledge Tibetan sovereignty. These historical facts in no way justify Chinese occupation of Tibet, or diminish the horror of what the Tibetan people have endured; as Thurman observes, nearly 1.3 million have perished under Chinese rule, some while performing hard labor, others for opposing the regime. A story as sad and complex as Tibet’s, however, deserves a more thoughtful treatment than it’s given in Saiwai’s book.

Given the limitations of the text, the best audience for The 14th Dalai Lama are young readers. The book’s directness and sincerity make it an engaging read, while its note of moral outrage over Chinese atrocities may prompt teens to learn more about the 1950 invasion. Readers already familiar with the conflict won’t find much here to enrich their understanding of the man or the region, though they may come away from the manga with a renewed sense of the Dalai Lama’s resilience and courage.

Review copy provided by Penguin Books.

THE 14TH DALAI LAMA: A MANGA BIOGRAPHY • BY TETSU SAIWAI • PENGUIN BOOKS • 208 pp.

Manhwa Monday: NYCC Edition

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Welcome to another Manhwa Monday!

With the new, joint New York Comic Con/New York Anime Festival swiftly approaching, let’s take a look at this year’s most promising manhwa destinations at the con(s).

First, to the exhibit hall! Manhwa publisher NETCOMICS has implied via Twitter that they will have a presence at the show. Though they have no booth listed with the con (and a request for details has remained unanswered as of this posting), my guess is that we’ll find them in the vicinity of KOCCA, the Korea Creative Content Agency, at booth number 2265 (ETA: this is confirmed!). Similarly, manhwa-friendly Yen Press should be represented at the booth of parent company Hachette Book Group, booth 2315.

Other manhwa publishers in attendance include Dark Horse Comics (booth 2023), NBM (booth 2304), First Second (booth 2314), and Fanfare/Ponent Mon (booth 2426).

Moving on to events, get all the news from Yen Press at their panel on Saturday from 3:45-4:45 in the afternoon, and check in with Dark Horse on Friday evening from 5:45-6:45. Also of interest to manhwa fans, K-drama website DramaFever is hosting a panel on “Asian Entertainment Trends in American Pop Culture” on Friday evening from 8:30-9:30, moderated by DramaFever’s David Hou and featuring such panelists as San Francisco Chronicle columnist Jeff Yang and Dramabeans.com writers Javabeans and GirlFriday. Check out the full list of panelists at DramaFever.com.

I’ll be at the cons all weekend, so please look for me and be sure to say hello!

This week in reviews, Charles Montgomery at 10 Magazine takes a look at three titles, Forest of Gray City (Yen Press), Manhwa 100 (KOCCA), and Let Dai (NETCOMICS). In the latest Off the Shelf column at Manga Bookshelf I talk about an upcoming volume of 13th Boy (Yen Press). Connie checks out the second volume of Laon (Yen Press) at Slightly Biased Manga. And at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson reviews volumes 1-3 of Pig Bride (Yen Press).

That’s all for this week!

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

Cat-Eyed Boy, Vols. 1-2

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Kazuo Umezu’s writing defies easy categorization. His horror stories unfold in an almost haphazard fashion, seldom offering Western readers the kind of inevitable showdown between supernatural menace and righteous avenger that’s de rigeur in grindhouse flicks. In a less charitable mood, I might suggest that Umezu was simply making it up as he went along, adding whatever Grand Guignol flourishes tickled his fancy; in a more critically responsible frame of mind, I’d argue that Umezu uses non-sequitors, heightened realism, and Freudian imagery to create a hallucinatory atmosphere that thumbs its nose at logic or teleology.

In the afterword to Cat-Eyed Boy, artist Mizuho Hiroyama offers a more geneorus assessment of Umezu’s approach to storytelling:

But just what is this unforgettable bizarreness that lies at the core of Umezu’s world? Is it a child’s nightmare? I think that this probably the best way to describe it. It’s simply fear. The escalating fear and imagination of a child who is unable to fall asleep in a pitch-dark room late at night, thinking about the worst-case scenarios and wondering, “What would I do if this happened?”

I think Hiroyama is on to something here: as anyone who’s read The Drifting Classroom knows, that entire series reads like a child’s nightmare, filled with terrifying monsters, barren wastelands, and irresponsible, ineffectual adults whose inability to save the day forces the stranded students to rely on themselves.

These same motifs recur throughout Umezu’s oeuvre. The eleven stories that comprise Cat-Eyed Boy, for example, are chock-full of demons — some grotesque, some comic — vengeful spirits, dead parents, and spiteful adults. Cat-Eyed Boy, a child-like creature who’s half-human, half-demon, finds himself relegated to the margins of both worlds, making him especially vulnerable to predation, in spite of his obvious strength and cunning. Like Sho and his Drifting Classroom peers, Cat-Eyed Boy must frequently outsmart unscrupulous adults (and a few monsters) to save his own skin.

Cat-Eyed Boy’s role varies from story to story: in some, he’s an active participant, a trickster figure who cajoles or deceives, while in others, he’s an observer. The strongest entry of the collection, “The Tsunami Summoners,” is, not coincidentally, the one in which Umezu portrays his odd little hero as a truly grotesque figure, one whose liminal status arouses genuine pity in readers. On one level, “Summoners” is an origin story, explaining where Cat-Eyed Boy came from, how he was exiled from the demon world, and why humans greet him with such suspicion, despite his frequent efforts to intervene on their behalf. On another, it’s a superb example of Umezu-style comeuppance theater, as a small coastal village is punished not only for mistreating one of their own members but for ignoring an ancient warning about a sea-borne menace. Everything about the story works beautifully: the crack pacing, the unforeseen plot twists, and the genuine pathos of Cat-Eyed Boy’s situation as he tries to protect the same villagers who tormented his sole human friend. The summoners are a particularly effective menace, as their initial appearance is relatively benign – they look like brain-shaped rocks, perfect for building walls and houses – allowing them to insinuate themselves into every aspect of the villagers’ lives before anyone is aware of the danger they pose.

Other standouts include “The One-Legged Monster of Ondai,” a cautionary tale about the evils of lepidoptery; “The Thousand-Handed Demon,” a blood bath in which a evil spirit possesses a statue of the Buddhist deity Kwannon; and “The Stairs,” a story about a boy so eager to be see his late mother that he ignores all warnings about the perils of crossing between the lands of the living and the dead.

Several stories were simply too long or scattershot to leave much of an impression. The chief offender is “The Band of One Hundred Monsters,” a rambling tale in which a group of hideously deformed humans aspire to become demons. I thought it was going to be an extended riff on the creative process, as the story initially focuses on the interaction between the “monsters” and a manga-ka known for his bizarre horror tales. Instead, Umezu quickly dispatches the manga-ka and steers the narrative in a wholly unanticipated direction, with the Band of One Hundred murdering pretty yet soulless people. That narrative u-turn does little to bind the two halves of the story together, nor does it take the story in a particularly interesting direction; the notion that beauty is only skin-deep has been explored in countless horror stories to better effect, as Umezu’s earlier work “The Mirror” attests.

Viz presents Cat-Eyed Boy in two generously sized volumes, totaling almost 1,000 pages of story. Both are beautifully packaged, with French flaps, creamy paper stock, and color pages. I particularly liked the endpapers, which catalog the various demons found in both volumes. And what a rogue’s gallery it is — these monsters are considerably more grotesque than anything Umezu conjured for earlier series, sporting myriad eyes, warty skin, tentacles, and grossly misshapen bodies. Most of the stories aren’t terribly spooky or shocking by contemporary standards, but the sheer oddness of the character designs will get under your skin like images from a particularly vivid nightmare.

This is a revised version of a review that appeared at PopCultureShock on August 12, 2008.

CAT-EYED BOY, VOLS. 1 – 2 • BY KAZUO UMEZU • VIZ • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Off the Shelf: Now With Reduced Woe!

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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 volumes from Yen Press, Tokyopop, Viz Media, and Vertical, Inc.

MICHELLE: Wednesday’s child may be full of woe, but somehow I doubt the same can be said about what we’ve been reading this week. At least not my picks. How about you, MJ?

MJ: You’re absolutely right! I caught up with a couple of universes I’m particularly fond of this week. Shall I just jump right in?

MICHELLE: Jump away; the water’s lovely.

MJ: *Sploosh* Okay! Well, having complained just this week about the shortage of new manhwa licenses, I figured it was only fair of me to give some attention to one of my favorite currently-running series, SangEun Lee’s 13th Boy from Yen Press. This is a series that hooked me early on with its quirky mix of romantic comedy and supernatural oddities (TALKING CACTUS). Though it was a bit all over the place in its first volume, it found its feet pretty quickly and now, five volumes in, it feels wonderfully sure and comfortable in its strangeness.

This is a pretty eventful volume, filled with some serious revelations for several of its main characters, particularly heroine Hee-So and her friend/sort-of-rival, Sae-Bom. What really makes the romantic aspect of this series work is Hee-So’s unyielding personality. Anytime the series seems in danger of becoming sentimental or melodramatic, she brings it right back to earth like a giant bulldozer, ripping everything apart with a moment of brash honesty or blatant self-involvement. She’s a character who manages to be totally obnoxious and still incredibly likable. How can you dislike anyone who is so open and honest about her own worst thoughts and so transparent in her painful attempts at guile? Hee-So is like a cup of tepid water in the ceaseless desert of teen romance comics– flawed, but extremely welcome.

Also, a stuffed rabbit comes to life and chews out Whie-Young for giving him a crappy personality. That’s worth the price of the volume alone. …

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

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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

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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

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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

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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