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Nabari No Ou, Volume 2

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Nabari No Ou, Vol. 2
By Yuhki Kamatani
Published by Yen Press

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In the aftermath of the first volume’s attack by the enemy clan Grey Wolves, Miharu and his companions recover in care of the Fuuma, many of whom were lost in the conflict. With the Banten shinobi having no official leader, Kotarou Fuuma, leader of his clan, assumes control and assigns teacher Kumohira and his young charges to retrieve (or steal, if necessary) the forbidden arts belonging to each of the other remaining clans. Though revelations about the motives and methods of the Fuuma leave Miharu even less sure of who to trust, he eventually finds himself feeling some sense of responsibility and even friendship towards would-be samurai Ramei and classmate Koichi. This volume’s major drama, however, is left for its final chapter, in which Miharu is offered alliance by an extremely unlikely source.

After the suspense and high action of this series’ first volume, the second begins slowly, churning out additional exposition without quite enough momentum to sustain it. Fortunately, this volume’s final chapter is thrilling enough to make up for early shortcomings, bringing real tension back into the story as well as highlighting the complexity and pathos behind Miharu’s carefully practiced apathy.

This volume takes pains to deepen the backstories for much of the series’ supporting cast, though most of these characters remain weak in comparison to the story’s most compelling characters–Miharu and deadly human weapon Yoite. Both of these characters possess potentially lethal abilities that endanger their own lives in one way or another, and it is fascinating and sad to witness the blatant sense of entitlement their respective shinobi clans appear to feel regarding their powers. That the clans have gravely overestimated their ability to control these two boys seems obvious, but it is yet unclear just how dearly this miscalculation might cost them or the boys themselves.

Though pacing is a weakness in this volume, even the least urgent chapters succeed in terms of dramatic content, thanks to Kamatani’s frequent use of close-ups and full-page images which give just the right weight to exactly the right moments. That a sense of stillness would be one of the greatest strengths of a manga that is ostensibly intended as an action series may sound a bit strange, but that is absolutely the case here. This quality plays a great part in creating the dark, moody atmosphere of the series, which remains one of my favorite aspects of it overall.

With its complex anti-hero and melancholy feel, Nabari No Ou‘s second volume ultimately overcomes its somewhat uninspired early chapters to maintain its position as my favorite new shonen series so far this year.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Boys Over Flowers: Jewelry Box by Yoko Kamio: B

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jewelryboxAfter Boys Over Flowers ended its serialization in 2003, Yoko Kamio published two follow-up stories—one about the wedding of Shizuka and another told from Rui’s perspective—that take place a year after the events of volume 36. These stories were released (along with some supplemental material) in 2008 as volume 37 of the series and immediately topped the shojo charts. VIZ has opted to give this volume the subtitle Jewelry Box instead.

The first story, in which Tsukushi and Tsukasa briefly reunite in France while attending Shizuka’s wedding, is a bit of a disappointment, since their first time seeing each other in a year is full of crazy derelicts trying to stab Tsukushi and Tsukasa calling her an idiot. The second story, though, is quite good, focusing on Rui and maintaining that lovely, melancholic air that he possesses. Rui is wondering whether he’ll ever fall in love again, and though he concedes that things with Tsukushi are over, there are still faint traces of his feelings remaining that spur him to do things for her that he’d do for no one else. Tsukushi and Tsukasa also meet up again in this story and, though fans are still denied an undeniably conclusive happy ending, there’s at least a strong suggestion of one.

The supplemental material is comprised of a series chronology, character growth analysis, quiz, and interview with Kamio. The chronology in particular is extremely helpful and furnished most of the facts in my first paragraph.

Fans of Boys Over Flowers shouldn’t expect anything earth-shattering in this release, but it’s worth the read and can serve as a handy resource, to boot.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

CSI: Intern at Your Own Risk by Sekou Hamilton and Steven Cummings: C

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csi-internAs part of the Las Vegas Police Department’s Outreach Program for high school students, five teenagers earn the right to serve as interns to the CSI unit. Among them is Kiyomi Hudson, who is intrigued by the murder of a classmate, Gretchen Yates. While she and her fellow interns—a creepy guy, a nerdy guy, a jock, and a rather jerky normal guy—perform their normal internly duties of watching demonstrations of forensic techniques and solving sample cases, Kiyomi also spurs them into investigating Gretchen’s death which leads to a (theoretically) dramatic conclusion.

I don’t watch CSI or any of its spin-offs, so some of the presumed appeal of this story is lost on me. Apparently, it features some characters from the show serving in an advisory capacity to the interns, but the only one I recognize is Gil Grissom. Taken only on its own merits, CSI: Intern at Your Own Risk isn’t bad, but it certainly could’ve been better.

The main problem is the disjointed nature of the storytelling, which cuts quickly between a facilities tour, a sample case, and the investigation into Gretchen’s murder. The characters are pretty stereotypical, too, and I found the identity of the culprit completely easy to guess, though not the exact nature of his or her motivation. Some of the dialogue is awkward and I had to laugh at the line “We’re on the scene of last night’s grizzly murder.” Oh no! Poor bear!

Still, now that the concept and group has been introduced, I might actually be interested in seeing the team work another case. Hopefully, if there is to be a next time, the result will be more polished.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Moyasimon: Tales of Agriculture, Vol. 1

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Warning: the Surgeon General has determined that reading Moyasimon: Tales of Agriculture may be hazardous to your health. Individuals who routinely consume large quantities of yogurt, miso, or natto; keep stashes of Purell in their purses and desk drawers; or have an irrational fear of germs or dirt are cautioned against reading Moyasimon. Side effects include disgust, nausea, and a strong desire to wash one’s hands repeatedly. Those with stronger constitutions, however, may find this odd little comedy fun, if a little too dependent on gross-out humor for laughs.

Moyasimon tells the story of Tadayasu, a country boy with an unusual gift: he can see and talk to bacteria. (In other words, he’s the Doctor Doolittle of the microbial world.) At the urging of his grandfather, Tadayasu leaves his small rural village to attend an agricultural college in Tokyo, his best friend Kei in tow. Tadayasu’s abilities bring him to the attention of the eccentric Professor Itsuki, a terraforming expert, and his foul-tempered research assistant Haruka Hasegawa, a graduate student who dresses like a dominatrix. Though they wax poetic about the scientific applications of Tadayasu’s gift, the pair seem more intent on making fermented delicacies — the smellier, the better — than actually conducting experiments. Also vying for Tadayasu’s attention are Misato and Kawahama, two sad-sack sophomores who reach out to him after bacteria compromise one of their numerous get-rich-quick schemes: bootleg sake.

Tadayasu, for his part, finds the attention unsettling. His dearest wish is to have a normal college experience, a desire frustrated by his family’s refusal to send him anywhere but an agricultural school. He also feels ambivalent about his gift. On the one hand, he understands its life-saving potential after thwarting an e-coli outbreak (he overhears the microorganisms rallying around the cry of “Brew ‘n’ kill!”); on the other hand, his microscopic “Spidey sense” makes many everyday activities — shaking hands, eating yogurt, visiting a messy dormitory room — agonizing, as he’s keenly aware of the bacteria’s presence. (In one of the story’s running gags, Tadayasu swoons whenever he visits Misato and Kawahama’s foul bachelor pad, a veritable bacteria playground of half-consumed beverages, dirty dishes, and fetid mattresses.)

hasegawaThe humor is good-natured, though Masayuki Ishikawa indulges his inner ten-year-old’s penchant for gross-out jokes every chance he gets.He repeatedly subjects Tadayasu and Kei to Itsuki’s food fetishes, forcing them to watch Itsuki exhume and eat kiviak (a fermented seal whose belly has been stuffed with birds), or try a piece of hongohoe, a form of stingray sashimi so pungent it makes their eyes water. Ishikawa’s decision to render the bacteria as cute, roly-poly creatures with cheerful faces prevents the story from shading into horror, though it’s awfully hard to shake the image of bacteria frolicking in a bed of natto or around the slovenly Misato’s nostril.

Where Moyasimon really shines is the artwork. Ishikawa’s layouts are detailed yet clear and easy to follow, giving the reader a strong sense of the college and its shabby environs. Ishikawa’s character designs are similarly effective, whether he’s drawing an L. yogurti bacterium or an unscrupulous professor. Take Misato and Kawahama. The two are a classic Mutt-and-Jeff duo: Misato is tall with a scruffy beard, a greasy ponytail, and weasel eyes, while Kawahama is short and round with a dirty face. When we first meet them, we immediately recognize them as a pair of sweating, scheming losers whose big dreams yield little returns. Hasegawa provides another instructive example of how design can play a critical role in establishing character. She’s prickly and aggressive, personality traits amplified by her unusual choice of labwear — knee-high boots with dozens of buckles and sky-high heels, studded belts, and a leather miniskirt — her sharp facial features, and her preferred accessory: a scowl.

Though the art is solid and the characters firmly established, Moyasimon hasn’t quite found its groove yet. Ishikawa can’t make up his mind if he wants us to admire the diversity and tenacity of bacterial life or squirm at the thought of its ubiquity; every educational speech about bacteria’s numerous benefits is punctuated by an icky rim shot. Still, it’s hard to deny the odd appeal of Moyasimon, as Ishikawa takes an all-too-familiar trope — the teen who sees things that other people can’t — and gives it a fresh, idiosyncratic spin.

MOYASIMON: TALES OF AGRICULTURE, VOL. 1 • BY MASAYUKI ISHIKAWA • DEL REY • 224 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson: B-

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hillhouseFrom the back cover:
Four seekers have come to the ugly, abandoned old mansion: Dr. Montague, an occult scholar looking for solid evidence of the psychic phenomenon called haunting; Theodora, his lovely and lighthearted assistant; Eleanor, the lonely, homeless girl well acquainted with poltergeists; and Luke, the adventurous future heir of Hill House.

At first, their stay seems destined to be merely a spooky encounter with inexplicable noises and self-closing doors, but Hill House is gathering its powers and will soon choose one of them to make its own.

Review:
The Haunting of Hill House is considered a classic of the horror genre, but honestly, I found it to be a mite snoozeworthy. I think the main problem is me. I’m a desensitized reader in the 21st century, far more difficult to shock and frighten, I assume, than the typical reader in 1959, when the book was published.

It’s the story of four people who gather to spend a summer at the supposedly haunted Hill House and report on paranormal activity there. Eleanor, a lonely woman who’s spent a sheltered decade caring for her ailing mother, quickly emerges as the protagonist, and early on displays a tendency for fanciful ramblings, as each time she passes a picturesque spot on her drive to Hill House, she concocts a story about how she has lived there and lovingly cared for the stone lions flanking the drive, et cetera.

Upon arrival, she quickly makes friends with the other female in the group, Theo. They bond during various terrifying (to them) supernatural disturbances, but the friendship is tested when the house begins to exert its power over Eleanor. It’s subtle at first, but by the end Eleanor is quite taken over by the place and the ending, though rather predictable, is great.

Besides my not finding any of the events truly creepy, Eleanor herself is the primary reason I didn’t enjoy the book more. Even before she begins to be affected by the house, she’s annoying, with a non-stop inner dialogue of self-doubt and worry about what others thought of her that really got on my nerves. Worse than Eleanor is Dr. Montague’s wife, whom I absolutely hated. Thankfully, she’s only present at the very end; I wonder why her odious presence was deemed necessary at all.

In the end, there are elements of the story that I liked and ones that I didn’t. But that’s okay; it’s never a waste of time to read a classic!

Wild Adapter 1-6 by Kazuya Minekura: A-

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wildadapter1I’ve heard a lot about the works of Kazuya Minekura over the years—mostly in praise of Saiyuki and Saiyuki Reload—but was never particularly tempted to see what all the fuss was about. That changed when MJ, who has uniformly good taste, raved about Wild Adapter on her blog back in June, and was immediately greeted with a chorus of agreement from other trustworthy sources. The time had come, it seemed, for me to have a look for myself.

On its surface, Wild Adapter is the story of Makoto Kubota, a former leader of a yakuza youth gang who is looking into a string of gruesome deaths, victims transformed into beasts by overdosing on a drug known as Wild Adapter. He takes in a “stray cat,” Minoru Tokito, with no memory of his past and a bestial right hand that indicates he’s had at least some exposure to the drug. Together, they attempt to unravel the mystery while Tokito strives to regain his memories and rival yakuza groups pursue Kubota for various reasons. Delving deeper, Wild Adapter is about two broken men who care for each other deeply but are so damaged that their affection manifests in unusual ways.

wildadapter2The first volume of the series serves as a prologue, introducing Kubota as he was before he met Tokito. He joins the Izumo syndicate on a whim and spends seven months as a youth gang leader, forming a close relationship with his second-in-command, Komiya. It’s primarily through Komiya’s eyes that we see Kubota, who seems to shirk his duties and is underestimated by many until he single-handedly administers violent payback to a rival organization. This Kubota trusts only himself, and says things like, “It was him or me, and I only choose me.” After Komiya is killed for investigating Wild Adapter, Kubota quits Izumo and takes in his new houseguest.

Beginning with volume two, which picks up a year later, the series features Kubota and Tokito together, following various leads on Wild Adapter and getting into dangerous predicaments. Each volume is self-contained and introduces a new character who gives an outsider’s perspective on the leads and their relationship. This storytelling approach is fascinating, because by never really allowing us into Kubota’s head, he’s able to come across to the reader the same way he does to the characters who encounter him, like “a wildadapter3 mysterious, untouchable man who seemed to float on air.” Tokito is much more openly expressive—as Kubota notes, “he can only tell the truth”—and though his past is unknown, who he is now is not nearly so difficult to ascertain.

Kubota has never cared for anyone before meeting Tokito, and is gradually changed by the relationship. Throughout the series there are quite a few poignant moments where he demonstrates how much he cares for and even needs Tokito and by the end of volume six, he has evolved from someone who only chooses himself into someone who will unhesitatingly risk his own death in order to rescue his kidnapped friend. We probably get the most insight into how Kubota feels about Tokito in volume five, where our point-of-view character is Shouta, an elementary school kid and aspiring manga artist who lives next door. Shouta finds his neighbors cool and exciting and is drawing a manga based on them. He confides to Kubota that he’s having trouble with the character based on him, and in a rare moment of candor, Kubota suggests that the character was searching for something to make him feel alive, but didn’t know what to do once he got it.

wildadapter4We begin to see that Kubota wanted to feel a connection like others do, but the only person he’s ever been able to rely on is himself, so it’s difficult to trust in someone else. “He really cares about Tokito,” the observant Shouta concludes. “He just doesn’t know how to express it.” Interestingly, these insights and the undoubtedly positive influence Kubota and Tokito have on Shouta can lull one into thinking Kubota is a good guy, an impression thoroughly tested by the Kill Bill-esque levels of vengeance on display in volume six.

Tokito, on the other hand, immediately trusts Kubota and gets petulant a couple of times when details of Kubota’s past of which he was not aware come to light. Although he’s by far the more endearing of the two, I find I have less to say about Tokito, perhaps because his origins are still shrouded in mystery and therefore all we have to gauge him by is the present. Readers receive a small tidbit of information about his past in volume six, and he’s had a few flashes of memory, but one can only assume that further development for Tokito will come later.

wildadapter5In addition to possessing fantastic, nuanced characters and a well thought-out approach to storytelling, Wild Adapter also boasts terrific art. In a word, it’s best described as “dark,” with black margins on every page and a gritty and shadowy feel that befits the subject matter. Kubota, in particular, has a knack for appearing distressingly cool while committing heinous acts. Despite the darkness, the art is seldom hard to follow and can also be much brighter, especially when the leads are enjoying some pleasant time together in their apartment, as well as versatile, like when Minekura draws the characters in the style of Shouta’s obviously shounen manga. I’m also impressed by the covers, each of which depicts the characters with a barrier of some kind, be it barbed wire, prison bars, or police tape. The cover on which they are the least obscured is for volume five, which just so happens to be the volume in which their missing first year together is finally revealed. Coincidence? I think not.

wildadapter6About the only complaints I could make is that the Wild Adapter plotline is occasionally sidelined for volumes at a time—volumes four and five, specifically, though these are also my favorites, so make of that what you will—and that there isn’t more! I’m sure Saiyuki fans are thrilled by announcements of new spin-offs, but I’d much rather Minekura work on this series instead!

Wild Adapter balances action, mystery, suspense, and strong character development while being downright addictive and capable of inspiring passionate devotion. In my quest to have more Minekura to read, I might even defect and check out Saiyuki, but in my heart I’ll really be wondering, “How long until volume seven?”

Let’s Talk About Manhwa, Yen Press Edition

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I’ve made quite a few manhwa-heavy posts in the past six months or so, starting with Let’s Talk About Manhwa, in which I declared my love for Korean BL comics and asked for recommendations for all kinds of manhwa. The comments to that post were fantastic–filled with recommendations upon recommendations, only a fraction of which I’ve managed to get to at this point. I’m reading as fast as I can!

The truth is, I’ve really fallen in love with manhwa. It has many of the traits I most love in Japanese manga–lots of epic, dramatic, character-driven, single-creator stories with lovely art and well-paced, finite plots–but each these traits has its own particular quality unique to manhwa. I believe that even if I was presented with flipped manhwa (reading right-to-left like Japanese comics) I would be able to tell at a glance that it was made in Korea–something that has been proven to me already, actually, in the case of one of my favorite single-volume Korean BL stories, U Don’t Know Me. Some of this has to do with the art, particularly the character designs which favor a a particular kind of cheek and chin, full lips and heavily lined eyes, but the storytelling has its own flavor too, with its spunky, outspoken (often even violent) girls and arrogant, swaggering boys.

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Murder Must Advertise by Dorothy L. Sayers: B

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murderadvertiseFrom the back cover:
When ad man Victor Dean falls down the stairs in the offices of Pym’s Publicity, a respectable London advertising agency, it looks like an accident. Then Lord Peter Wimsey is called in, and he soon discovers there’s more to copywriting than meets the eye. A bit of cocaine, a hint of blackmail, and some wanton women can be read between the lines. And then there is the brutal succession of murders—five of them—each one a fixed fee for advertising a deadly secret.

Review:
Murder Must Advertise finds Lord Peter Wimsey infiltrating an advertising agency and investigating whether a man was killed for knowing too much. He assumes the identity of his (fictional) disreputable cousin, Death Bredon, for the purpose and, in the course of his probe, also dons the costume of a harlequin in an attempt to extract information from a notoriously drug-addled woman. Some of the story is told from the perspectives of outsiders who encounter Peter in these guises, paving the way for long entries about office squabbles and excruciatingly detailed passages about cricket matches (in which Lord Peter saves the day, of course). Sayers also works in a good deal of criticism of the advertising profession and how it preys on the poor by purporting to offer them luxury at an affordable price.

This mystery isn’t bad, but something about it didn’t click with me. I think the problem is that I’m used to knowing more about the case going in, what Peter is thinking, that sort of thing. This time his actions are more mysterious, particularly as regards his aims with the whole harlequin masquerade, and sometimes lost me a bit. Too, though the latter half of the book seems to focus more on the drug trade issue (I believe that by this point Peter already had the murderer pegged), in the end the resulotion to the drug plot occurs entirely off camera and the identity of the much sought-after kingpin turns out to be rather disappointing.

Maybe the real problem is that I miss the repartee between Peter and Harriet. Oh well, only one more to go before Gaudy Night!

Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You, Volume 2

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Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You, Vol. 2
By Karuho Shiina
Published by Viz Media

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Yano and Yoshida first laugh off the rumor that Sawako has been spreading stories about them. After overhearing Sawako deny their friendship, however, they begin to doubt themselves, ultimately learning just how deep their feelings for her go. Certain that her association with Kazehaya, Yano, and Yoshida is destroying their popularity, Sawako tries to distance herself from them but she too learns a lesson about her own feelings in the process.

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Tale of the Waning Moon, Volume 1

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Tale of the Waning Moon, Vol. 1
By Hyouta Fujiyama
Published by Yen Press

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After his faithless girlfriend leaves him for a rich man from the next town over, poor Ryuka heads to the tavern to booze it up, followed by a drunken trek to a spot known as the “Wishing Hill,” where he makes a wish for “someone… anyone” to help him forget the girl–someone to love him and to be loved in return. What he wishes for soon after is to have chosen his words more carefully, for though help appears in the form of Ixto, spirit of the last quarter moon, the only options Ixto offers him as potential lovers are other men, something Ryuka is definitely not interested in. His proposals rejected, Ixto takes on the responsibility himself, making (questionably consensual) love to Ryuka all night long.

Thanks to Ixto’s magical powers, Ryuka awakens the next morning to find his body annoyingly drawn to the memory of Ixto, sending him on a spellbound, RPG-style journey to who knows where. To protect him, Ixto provides a guide of sorts–a scantily clad “moon cat” (complete with ears, tail, and go-go shorts) named Coon, who is said to be “honest and obedient.” Coon, unfortunately, is also an easily swayed nymphomaniac who steers Ryuka into trouble more often than not. As the volume continues, Ryuka and Coon are joined by more travel companions, mainly a traveling nobleman and his unusually (*cough*) beloved horse, and Ryuka is forced to recognize the fact that he has begun to develop real feelings for Ixto.

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Detroit Metal City, Volume 2

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Detroit Metal City, Vol. 2
By Kiminori Wakasugi
Published by Viz Media

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In the second volume of Kiminori Wakasugi’s gleefully vulgar series, Soichi Negishi continues to live his double life as a mild-mannered aspiring pop musician and powerful lead vocalist for an underground death metal band. As the line between his dueling identities deteriorates, Negishi finds himself falling into his Krauser II persona more and more often, especially in the presence of his longtime crush, Aikawa. Early on, he even stalks her when she accepts an amusement park date with another guy, eventually letting his jealousy transform him into Krauser, who humiliates her on stage during a “Victory Rangers” show. Later on, while rushing frantically back and forth from an interview (as Krauser) to dinner with Aikawa on her birthday, the blur between his conflicting personalities extends even to physical appearance as increasingly obvious bits of Krauser’s costume and makeup are accidentally left on in Negishi’s frazzled haste.

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Sand Chronicles, Vol. 6

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By Hinako Ashihara
Viz, 200 pp.
Rating: T+ (Older Teen)

Having finally broken up with Daigo, Ann decides to give a relationship with long-suffering Fuji a try. Their physical relationship gets a slow start, but thanks to conniving friends, they are eventually thrown into a romantic situation from which even Ann cannot escape. Unfortunately, Fuji’s gentle eagerness and Ann’s indecision only serve to create a situation more painful than any of Fuji’s many years of unrequited love, and Ann only ends up accumulating further regret. Meanwhile, Daigo also attempts to move on by letting himself become involved with a former schoolmate who has harbored a longtime crush on him. This volume also contains a welcome dose of Ann’s grandmother as well as some insight into her father’s past. Shika’s story, too, becomes more poignant in this volume and it is a pleasure to watch her finally discovering how to break away from what hurts her.

This quietly nuanced series truly becomes richer with each new volume. It is genuinely heartbreaking to watch Ann and Fuji together, filled with such earnest affection for each other but unable to move beyond the weight of Ann’s lingering feelings for Daigo. It is only after having made a grand gesture symbolizing her break with Daigo that Ann truly begins to understand her own feelings, and though she strays far from doing right by Fuji (“I used the person it would hurt the most,” she thinks tearfully to herself, “but I needed someone to rescue me so badly.”) he understands her too well to hate her or even feel any real anger over her actions. It is this series’ refusal to vilify any of its characters that makes it feel so true to life, and this volume is a perfect example of that.

Ashihara’s art, always one of the series’ great strengths, is especially strong in this volume in terms of expressing the feelings of her characters. This is particularly evident in the scenes between Ann and Fuji, which are stunningly effective. Both visually and otherwise, Sand Chronicles continues to be an exceptionally rewarding read.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

Kimi ni Todoke: From Me to You 2 by Karuho Shiina: A-

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kiminitodoke2In volume one of this charming series, Sawako Kuronuma learned that by sharing her true feelings she could clear up misunderstandings. When malicious rumors begin to circulate about two classmates who’ve been kind to her, with Sawako named as the source of the stories, she desperately wants to clear up the “misunderstanding,” too innocent to understand that the tales have been spread purposefully to turn her new friends against her and make the sought-after Kazehaya disgusted with her.

Happily, the two classmates in question, Yano and Yoshida, aren’t fooled for a second that Sawako could be responsible. That is, until her hesitance to presume that they could actually already be friends makes them wonder how she really feels about them. I love that these two tough girls have clearly grown attached to their strange classmate and when everything is explained, with Kazehaya once again providing Sawako with helpful advice and encouragement, it’s rather sniffle-inducing. It’s depressingly rare that female friendships are given so much attention in a shojo series, and I heartily approve!

That’s not to say that romance is entirely missing. Although their relationship is developing slowly, Sawako seems to be starting to view Kazehaya in a different light, while Kazehaya is holding back in order to let Sawako enjoy having friends for the first time. I’m sure that when they finally do get together, it’ll be touching and sweet, just like everything else about this series.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Hangman’s Holiday by Dorothy L. Sayers: B-

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hangmansBook description:
Amusing and absolutely appalling things happen on the way to the gallows when murder meets Lord Peter Wimsey and the delightful working-class sleuth Montague Egg. This sumptuous feast of criminal doings and undoings includes a vintage double identity and a horrid incident of feline assassination that will tease the minds of cat lovers everywhere. Not to be missed are “The Incredible Elopement of Peter Wimsey” (with a lovely American woman-turned-zombie) and eight more puzzlers penned in inimitable style by the mistress of murder.

Review:
I’m really not much of a fan of short stories in any case, but was significantly underwhelmed by most of the tales in this collection. The first four stories feature Lord Peter Wimsey, and feature either silly quasi-supernatural plots (“The Image in the Mirror” and “The Incredible Elopement of Lord Peter Wimsey”) or near-identical scenarios of a crime occuring while Peter is attending festivities with a small group of suspects (“The Queen’s Square” and “The Necklace of Pearls”). None is very good.

The next six stories feature salesman-turned-sleuth, Montague Egg, who seems to have a knack for turning up just after someone has died or sharing a pub with a wanted man. He has an eye for detail honed during his occupational duties—Mr. Egg is a big one for refining his skills and continually quotes rhyming maxims from The Salesman’s Handbook, like “the goodwill of the maid is nine-tenths of the trade”—and assists police in discovering the relevant facts of the case. I liked these stories a bit better than those starring Lord Peter, particularly “Maher-Shalal-Hashbaz,” which I thought I might dislike on account of being a sensitive cat lover, though they have a strange tendency to end after the culprit is identified but not yet confronted with his/her crimes.

The best stories of the lot are actually the last two, which star no sleuth at all. In “The Man Who Knew How,” our protagonist, Pender, meets a fellow on the train who claims to know the perfect, untraceable murder method that makes victims appear to’ve died in their baths. Pender keeps running into the same fellow in the vicinity of where such deaths have occurred and takes it upon himself to become an avenger. In “The Fountain Plays,” a refined gentleman with a secret does the unthinkable to protect it. Both end in unexpected ways and seem to be rather more clever than their predecessors. I’m not sure whether they were written later, or whether each received a little more polish on account of acting as a stand-alone piece, but I definitely liked them the best.

Ooku: The Inner Chambers, Vol. 1

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Built in 1607, the Ooku, or “great interior,” housed the women of the Tokugawa clan, from the shogun’s mother to his wife and concubines. Strict rules prevented residents from fraternizing with outsiders, or leaving the grounds of Edo Castle without permission. Within the Ooku, an elaborate hierarchy governed day-to-day life; at the very top were the joro otoshiyori, or senior elders, who supervised the shogun’s attendants and served as court liaisons; beneath them were a web of concubines, priests, pages, cooks, and char women who hailed from politically connected families. This elaborate social system was mirrored in the physical structure of the Ooku, which was divided into three distinct areas — the Rear Quarters, the Middle Interior, and the Front Quarters — each intended solely ladies of a particular rank. The only male permitted into the Ooku (unescorted, that is), was the shogun himself, who accessed the “great interior” by means of the Osuzu Roka, a long corridor that connected the shogun’s living quarters with the imperial harem.

The “great interior” plays a prominent role in Fumi Yoshinaga’s latest series, Ooku: The Inner Chamber. In Yoshinaga’s alternate history of eighteenth-century Japan, however, women run the show, thanks to a devastating plague that killed most of the country’s men. The shogun’s duties remain unchanged by this unexpected gender reversal, and she, too, enjoys the same perks that her male predecessors did. The twist: the Ooku is now home to hundreds of handsome men from important families, all of whom live according to the code established in Hideata Tokugawa’s reign.

Perhaps the most astonishing thing about Yoshinaga’s conceit is that so much remains the same, despite the sudden challenge to established gender norms. Marriage practices remain firmly rooted in money, social status, and fertility (men’s fertility, that is); palace residents continue observing the established pecking order and its attendant rituals; the shogun questions the cost, but not the necessity, of the Ooku itself. The men, in fact, embrace their subordinate roles without hesitation; their petty squabbles, hazing rituals, and political jockeying suggest their inability to imagine anything more important than competing for the shogun’s attention.

Where Yoshinaga takes the most risks is in her portrayal of Yoshimune, the newly appointed shogun. Yoshimune is a rare type in popular entertainment: a strong, intelligent, brusque, and frankly carnal woman with uncanny leadership instincts. She’s dismayed by excess and ritual, which she views as a drain on the shogunate’s dwindling resources; in her personal and political decision-making, she strives for simplicity and efficiency, even going so far as to restrict herself to two meals a day. In true Tokugawa fashion, Yoshimune is wary of the outside world; in one of the volume’s best scenes, she receives Dutch ambassador dressed in male attire, then uses her throne as a bully pulpit to inquire about the all-male crew of his ship. “‘Tis reported that  there is not one woman in your entire company. Wherefore is that?” she demands of the bewildered captain. “Are all the women of Holland weak and sickly?”

Like Yoshinaga’s other costume dramas — especially Gerard and Jacques — Ooku is very talky. Too talky, in fact; the first three chapters unfold at what might charitably be described as a glacial pace, as we watch a young samurai enter the Ooku to avoid a financially beneficial but emotionally sterile marriage. Normally, Yoshinaga excels at conversation-driven storytelling, but the dialogue in Ooku falls flat, thanks to a stilted script that’s liberally peppered with “thees,” “wherefores,” and “forsooths.” (One character angrily addresses another as “thou vile cur!”, an insult that last carried weight in Elizabethan England, while another makes reference to a “man’s nether hole.”) Without an intimate knowledge of Japanese, it’s impossible to know if the problem originates with Yoshinaga’s script or Akemi Wegmuller’s translation; either way, the dialogue’s awkward marriage of contemporary and archaic language proves distracting, keeping the reader at arm’s length from the characters’ feelings.

The other problem with the script is that Yoshinaga uses conversation to explain everything, from the mysterious origins of the redface pox (the fictional disease that kills off the male population) to the elaborate rituals observed within the Ooku. Too often, the script reads like a history textbook; characters don’t have a discussion but lecture one another, revealing little about themselves in the process. Yoshinaga pauses from time to time to stage a dramatic moment — an attempted rape, a sword fight, a lovers’ parting — but she never quite brings the Ooku to life; the first few chapters feel more like a pageant or a historical re-enactment than a drama.

Yoshinaga’s artwork, on the other hand, is elegant and effective, capturing the opulence of Tokugawa-era fashions as well as the austere beauty of Edo Castle. As with all her manga, Yoshinaga’s limited repertoire of character designs seems less a flaw than a charming idiosyncrasy, as if she’s employing the same troupe of actors again and again. Yoshimune, for example, strongly resembles Flower of Life’s Majima, yet Majima’s sharp profile suits Yoshimune perfectly, as do the determined gait and fierce stare that distinguish Yoshimune from the softer, more stereotypically feminine women in her orbit. In service of Flower, those physical characteristics made Majima seem like a shifty operator, but when re-purposed for Ooku, these traits endow Yoshimune with an almost god-like aura, suggesting both her discipline and her strong sense of purpose.

I’ll be honest: I’m not quite sold on Ooku yet. For all its dramatic and socio-political ambitions, volume one isn’t nearly as daring or weird or pointed as it might have been. If anything, it reminds me of a BBC miniseries: it’s tasteful, meticulously researched, and a little too high-minded to be truly compelling. The introduction of the complex Yoshimune, however, bodes well for future volumes, as she brings a sense of urgency and purpose to a script that sometimes meanders.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC.

OOKU: THE INNER CHAMBERS, VOL. 1 • BY FUMI YOSHINAGA • VIZ • 216 pp. • RATING: MATURE