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Frau Faust, Vols. 1-2

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By Kore Yamazaki | Published by Kodansha Comics

I had heard good things about Frau Faust and figured I would probably like it too, but I wasn’t prepared for the “OMG, I love this!” feeling that overtook me after the first dozen pages or so. I loved it so much, in fact, that the first seven volumes of Yamazaki’s other published-in-English series, The Ancient Magus’ Bride, are currently on their way to my branch of our awesome local library. If Frau Faust is going to be this original and entertaining, clearly I need to read more of Yamazaki’s work!

But let’s back up a little to the premise. Johanna Faust was always an extremely curious child, her quest for knowledge so intense that it led her to dissect animals and do other things that caused her to be ostracized for being creepy. Even her own mother was afraid of her. Because of this greed, the demon Mephistopheles paid Johanna a visit, promising to bestow all of the knowledge she could ever want upon her. Johanna flatly rejected this deal, however, because she’s only interested in knowledge she attains for herself. Mephisto (for short) proceeds to hang around for a few years, in case she changes her mind. Eventually, to help save her only friend from a slavering wolf creature, Johanna agrees to the contract. When she dies, Mephisto gets her soul, but what she wants while she’s alive is actually him. He’ll be her protector, assistant, et cetera.

Of course, we don’t learn all of that right off the bat. Instead, we encounter Johanna as she’s trying to get into a church to retrieve one of Mephisto’s body parts. A curse prevents her from opening the door, so when she protects a young book thief named Marion from the authorities, he seems to be the perfect candidate to solve her problem. While they wait for the new moon to complete the errand, Johanna offers to tutor Marion, whom it turns out was merely stealing his own books back after they were taken by debt collectors. Poverty has also caused him to give up school, which was the only thing he’s good at.

After the errand is complete, Marion refuses to let his memories of the encounter be wiped, and tags along with Johanna on her journey to gather the rest of Mephisto, whom she refers to as “my adorable, detestable, unfathomable idiot of a dog.” As the trail leads Johanna to a town where the church is protecting Mephisto’s leg, we learn more about why the demon has been quartered and his parts kept under guard—his only charge is performing an immortality curse upon the dead—and what this means for Johanna. Whenever she sustains an injury, she is able to heal herself, but has a finite supply of physical material to work with, thus she ends up looking younger each time.

As cool as it was to have an older protagonist, I really don’t mind that she ends up looking younger, since she is demonstrably still the same person. I appreciate that Johanna is decidedly not evil. She never threatens Marion or anything of the sort. And though she might have made some past decisions Marion has a hard time accepting, she only did so after a lot of thought and because it was the best and only option at the time. I also really like how Marion becomes a stronger character in the second volume, as we learn that his motivations for tagging along with Johanna are more than mere curiosity: she’s his ticket out of a town where he has very few prospects.

I haven’t yet touched on the church characters, primarily an inquisitor named Lorenzo (who’s trying to stop Johanna but yet agrees to work with her to expose a corrupt priest) and his friend and assistant Vito, who gets himself captured along with Marion whilst trying to figure out why vagrants keep going missing around the church. They believe humankind will suffer if Mephisto is allowed to return to normal. (Nico, Johanna’s homunculus “daughter,” doesn’t seem fond of him, either.) The players on each side are sympathetic and the story is complex, just how I like ’em. We still don’t know what sort of “game” Johanna and Mephisto are playing and why she doesn’t just take her immortality and run, rather than risk injury trying to put the demon with dibs on her soul back together. Maybe she’s simply fond of him?

Alas, this series is only five volumes long, but I will look on the bright side—we will hopefully get a really satisfying conclusion that much sooner!

Frau Faust is complete in five volumes. The first two volumes are currently available in English and the third will be released on Tuesday.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

My Big Sister Lives in a Fantasy World: The World’s Strongest Little Brother vs. the Evil God?!

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By Tsuyoshi Fujitaka and An2A. Released in Japan as “Neechan wa Chuunibyou” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Elizabeth Ellis.

We did not break up, we are merely taking a break from each other. I wasn’t fired, I chose to do other things. My light novel series isn’t cancelled, I just have a new idea I want to work on. I will totally get back to it. In due course. At the appropriate juncture. In the fullness of time. Sometimes you have people saying one thing but hearing the subtext behind it, and that’s sort of how I felt about the end of Big Sis Fantasy World, whose epilogue and afterword even hint at this by talking about “And the adventure continues”, one of the stock bullet points you see on the final page of a series that has been cancelled (usually in Shonen Jump). To a degree this is intentional, as like so many other things in this series the author is making fun of the genre it’s also swimming in. But unfortunately, this sort of thing only works if you’re thinking “Damn, I want to see what happens next”, rather than “Oh thank God.”

I think that my main issue with this series, with is taken to eleven here on purpose, is Yuichi’s inability to really grow or change because he has no need. All the training from Mutsuko happened before the start of the series, and made him who he is today. Which is fine, but he makes a really crap protagonist as a result. And this is in a book that even features a villain who is a parody of harem protagonists. Yuichi’s actions at the start of the book frustrate Mutsuko, which is unsurprising, but they also frustrate the reader, who wants to see him be proactive by choice rather than because he’s blackmailed into it or just thinks “oh well, guess it’s time to fight”. For an author that loves Haruhi Suzumiya so much, They’ve certainly missed the point of Kyon, who had an entire book set in an alternate world to come to terms with the fact that he IS having fun and SHOULD be proactive.

The book isn’t terrible. The prose reads fine, events happen quickly and make sense. Even the semi-incomprehensible plot involving the demon god starts to make a bit more sense as it hits its climax, though it’s mostly there to give us a good final battle. (Mutsuko, sadly, is sidelined because she’s mad at her brother – I kept waiting for Yuichi to briefly be defeated to teach him a lesson, but it never happened. Instead Mutsuko is beaten bloody… offscreen.) There are a few amusing gags, though once again the series seems to regard its non-regular cast as little more than cannon fodder – in fact, it gleefully points it out. If you’ve been reading Big Sis Fantasy World all along, you should read this too, as it provides a conclusion to the series, even one that is open ended and resolves nothing. But I’m not remotely holding my breath waiting for Book 8.

orange: future

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By Ichigo Takano. Released in Japan by Futabasha, serialized in the magazine Manga Action. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Amber Tamosaitis. Adapted by Shannon Fay.

When orange ended its main run, it was a somewhat ambiguous open ending which I praised at the time. The point of the series was not about whether Naho and Kakeru would hook up, it was about facing down Kakeru’s suicidal thoughts and actions, and an examination of how you can sometimes try your hardest with good intentions and still have it not be enough. When word came out that a 6th volume was being released (which is coming out over here separate as ‘future’), I admit I expected that after such a serious and frequently tear-jerking story, we would finally get a light and fluffy series of side-stories, maybe get romantic resolution to the main pairing. And technically we do get the latter, but I probably should not have been too surprised that orange: future is not interested in sweet fluffiness, but instead continues to examine our decisions and their consequences, in both the world where Kakeru killed himself and the world where he was stopped.

That’s Suwa on the front cover, and indeed Suwa is on the back cover. And throughout the book. This final volume is an examination of Suwa and his burgeoning love for Naho. We begin with the ‘epilogue’ to the main series, where Kakeru has been saved and Naho is clearly going to end up with him. It’s made clear that Suwa’s letters from his future self clearly said he and Naho were married now, but that he should save Kakeru anyway. Suwa, who tends to reflect on his own actions a bit too much, sees future Suwa as a bit of a jerk for stepping in and stealing Naho after everything that happened, and it’s up to his friends to explain that the Suwa they know isn’t like that at all. It’s a nice little bittersweet epilogue, but it only takes up about a quarter of the book. The majority of the book explores what actually did happen in that world where Kakeru wasn’t saved.

As I said before, the entirety of this volume is focused on Suwa and his perspective on things. This allows the reader to gain a greater appreciation of the character (and he was already one of my favorites) and shows us how just because you realize that the girl you love is in love with someone else, it doesn’t mean that your love moves on. The main issue with this volume, I think, is that we don’t get Naho’s perspective on things at all, which can make the ultimate decisions she makes look a bit out of the blue. This fits well with Suwa’s POV – he’s trying his hardest, but from what he can see Naho just isn’t responding – but from a reader perspective we agree with him, and wonder what led her to her decision. That said, I have no real complaints, mostly as I simply enjoy the way that Takano tells the story, and the emotions feel very real and earned.

If you enjoyed the initial orange onmibuses, this is clearly a must buy. But be aware that it’s not going to be happiness and sweets. Also, loved the inside cover art showing the cast in their future professions. Also also, Azusa and Takako are the absolute best.

Under the Air

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By Osamu Tezuka. Released in Japan by Akita Shoten, serialized in the magazine Play Comic. Released in North America by Digital Manga Publishing. Translated by Grady Martin. Adapted by Nate Heneghan.

One of the difficulties in reading the so-called God of Manga is that there is a certain tendency to try to see everything as a masterwork. This can be quite difficult with Tezuka, who has written SO MUCH already. But just as there is good Tezuka, there is also bad Tezuka. And there is also Tezuka feeling things out, trying to grow and learn and make the manga industry grow and learn with him. Under the Air is one of those types. Created for the more mature Play Magazine, it’s a series of unrelated short stories – unrelated except for an interconnected theme of good and evil. As an experimental collection, it’s very hit-or-miss in terms of enjoyment. As a document of Tezuka, I found it far more interesting, and you can also see how it improves as it goes along – my favorite story was Under the Air itself, which is the final one in the volume.

Yes, as the cover art indicates, this is definitely one of Tezuka’s work for adults. There’s violence, murder, racism, death, sex, incest, and all sorts of human frailties along the way. The manga has a high bar to clear – because it’s meant to be about the nature of evil in many ways, its protagonists tend to be horrible people. Frequently his goal is to show them have some sort of revelatory experience that leads, if not to a change of heart, then at least to a changed state. At the start, this doesn’t work out so well – the star of Joe’s Visitor is SUCH a loathsome human being that there is absolutely no way I bought him returning at the end – in fact, I was initially baffled as to what was happening. A couple of the stories also “star” Tezuka as himself, usually looking for story ideas or visiting friends, and running into trouble. Tezuka, amusingly, does not portray himself in a very likeable way either, though he’s certainly more likeable than a lot of these people.

As the volume goes on, the stories get a bit more ‘fantastical’ in nature, ranging from hallucinatory images to experimental drugs to swapping your wife’s mind with that of a donkey – yes, really. You can also see Tezuka getting a handle on what he’s actually trying to do – the characters are not as “bwahaha, I am a BAD PERSON!” as they were at the start, and therefore the moral of whatever story he’s telling makes more sense and flows better. This culminates in the final story, featuring two innocents raised by themselves in a spaceship-style environment who grow up and become curious about the world outside their little bubble – which shows off the fact that good innocence can lead to just as many tragic consequence as evil heartlessness, though the story ends on a bittersweet rather than bitter note.

This volume came out via Digital Manga Publishing’s Kickstarter efforts, and there is theoretically a lot more coming in the near future. Under the Air is never going to be placed up there with the best mature Tezuka titles such as MW or Ode to Kirihito. But it’s an excellent example of seeing Tezuka experiment, sometimes fail, sometimes succeed, and push boundaries as far as he thinks he can take them.

RWBY

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There was a moment in the early 2000s when Tokyopop slapped the “manga” label on just about anything it published, from licensed Japanese comics to comics made by aspiring American artists who were trying to break into the industry. Looking back on the heated debate over the legitimacy of OEL manga, I wonder how today’s readers will view RWBY, a work that meets the basic definition of manga as “comics created in Japan,” but has a more complicated history than other American properties that have been reimagined for Japanese readers.

RWBY’s path to the Shonen Jump imprint began in 2013 when Rooster Teeth, an American production studio, had a viral hit with an original, anime-influenced show about a team of girls who fight monsters. Over the next four years, interest in RWBY was strong enough to inspire a spin-off series, a video game, four soundtrack albums, and a manga illustrated by Shirow Miwa, creator of Dogs and Dogs: Bullets & Carnage. Like Miwa’s other work, RWBY ran in the pages of Ultra Jump alongside JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure and Bastard!! before being licensed by VIZ for American readers.

Flipping through its pages, there are hints that RWBY is a slightly different animal than Jiro Kuwata’s Bat-Manga or Kia Asamiya’s Star Wars: The Phantom Menace. RWBY reads like a skillful imitation of a battle-heavy shonen manga, a riot of flying fists, kicking legs, swinging scythes, and extreme camera angles. Almost every imaginable visual cliche is on display, from a girl with cat-ears (she’s a Faunus, or a “therianthrope”) to a school uniform that consists of a waist-nipping blazer and impossibly short skirt. And while Miwa’s artistic persona is evident in the story’s best pages, RWBY feels less like a manga adaptation of a popular American show than a compendium of things that American fans like about anime and manga.

The story follows a familiar template: four — or three, or five — special teens attend a special school where they learn how to use their special powers to defend the Earth from demons or aliens. Each teen has one unusual gift — say, teleporting or making killer bento boxes — and one well-defined personality trait that dictates the costume she wears, how much she talks, and whether she plays well with others. Though individually effective, the quartet — or trio, or quintet — is more formidable when they team up against their shared enemy, a lesson that’s reinforced early and often in the series both in the outcome of the battle scenes and in the characters’ on-the-nose conversations about friendship and cooperation. In RWBY, the principal team consists of four girls: Ruby Rose, a weapons expert, Weiss Schnee, a rich girl, Blake Belladonna, a former gang member, and Yang Xiao Long, a cheerful spazz who loves a good brawl. All four attend attend Beacon Academy, where teens train to become Hunters, skillful warriors who wield cool weapons and magical spells against the Grimm, a race of “soulless monsters” that threaten humanity’s existence.

On the screen, such a shopworn premise could still work with the addition of snazzy animation, strong voice acting, great sound design, and judicious pacing. On the page, however, RWBY falls flat. Miwa is hamstrung by the pedestrian source material, cranking out a manga whose principal characters are blandly pretty and prone to explaining things to one another. Just a few pages into chapter one, for example, Ruby blithely asks her teammates about Dust, the magical substance that powers their weapons. Without missing a beat, Schnee responds, “It’s a crystallized energy propellant that helps to power our world.” She then launches into a lengthy rumination on Dust that’s supposed to reveal something about her character — her family’s fortune is tied to Dust — but is such a poorly disguised information dump that it never rises to the level of conversation.

Glimpses of Miwa’s signature style — his sharp-featured characters and spidery linework — emerge most clearly in the battle sequences, when Ruby and friends face off with the Grimm. Miwa frames the action in panels whose bold, diagonal boundaries mimic the combatants’ slashing motions and flying leaps. In one of the manga’s most striking sequences, Miwa traces a bullet from the barrel of Ruby’s gun towards its target. This kind of tracking shot is a hackneyed gesture, but Miwa does something playful and surprising with it: he breaks the frame to create the illusion that the bullet is emerging from the page and whizzing past the reader:

The rest of the sequence, however, is a hot mess. Miwa’s relentless shift in perspective makes the fight as incomprehensible as a badly edited car chase; it’s never clear how many monsters are involved, or what makes the Grimm so lethal, despite the fact that Miwa has tried to mimic the show’s swooping camera work to show the carnage from every possible angle.

Miwa’s indifference to the material also manifests itself in the almost total absence of background detail. Though he introduces the fight sequences with an establishing shot or two — a glimpse of trees, an aerial view of a railroad track — the action unfolds in blank space. Plenty of manga-ka take similar shortcuts, but when a manga is 70% combat and 30% character-building, the effect is like looking at a scene from The Last Jedi or Avatar before the special effects were added; in the absence of any objects, buildings, or landmarks that would contextualize their actions and words, the characters look downright silly.

Part of me wishes RWBY were better, as it’s fascinating to see an American program get the manga treatment, especially one that wears its Bleach and Magic Knight Rayearth influences on its sleeve. Ten years ago, fans would have derided such a program as inauthentic; today, it seems, such trans-Pacific exchanges are unremarkable. Too bad RWBY never escapes the prison of Overused Anime and Manga Tropes to become something more original, compelling, or entertaining.

RWBY • MANGA BY SHIROW MIWA • BASED ON THE ROOSTER TEETH SERIES CREATED BY MONTY OUM • TRANSLATED BY JOE YAMAZAKI, ADAPTED BY JEREMY HAUN & JASON HURLEY • VIZ MEDIA • 260 pp. • RATED T, FOR TEENS (Fantasy violence, mild fanservice)

Invaders of the Rokujouma!?, Vol. 8.5: The Silver Princess and the Blue Knight, Part Two

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By Takehaya and Poco. Released in Japan as “Rokujouma no Shinryakusha!?” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Warnis.

A lot of the things I said about Vol. 7.5 apply here as well, with the conclusion of Koutarou in the past. There’s a lot less humor in this book than in the regular series, as for the most part our heroes are in a desperate battle to save their lives and the kingdom, not in that order. Koutarou eventually comes clean with Alaia about who he is and where he’s from, which helps towards the end as they’re actually allowed to bring out Clan’s futuristic lightsabers and nuclear weapons without the rest of the heroic cast boggling too much. And Koutarou’s armor gets beaten to hell and back, which ties in nicely with Ruth discovering its condition in Book 8. It is, as always, a very enjoyable volume in a well-written series, but there are thankfully one or two other points I can expand on to fill up a review.

The first is the surprising reappearance of the ancient temple from Vol. 1, which I admit I had 100% forgotten about (as had Koutarou, but my memories haven’t been deliberately wiped). I’m not sure how it ended up as an ancient Earth ruin, but hey. The temple, of course, was the basis for the start of all the chaos in his life, as it’s only after falling into its ruins that he can see Sanae and we set off the mad dash to get control of the room. Here we see that it’s essentially home of a mythical sacred sword, which given it’s a myth in Alaia’s time makes it a super-old myth by the time we get to Theia’s present. The sword essentially is imbued with Alaia’s life force, which causes a few problems for her (I hope that she does not die too young, as the text hints – then again, Harumi is basically her reincarnation, so…) but also allows her and Koutarou to bring out its full potential. Rokujouma is not based on a webnovel, and it’s times like this you can tell – the series feels planned in advance in ways webnovel series do not.

The other interesting point is Koutarou’s acceptance of the fact that he, by himself, is not powerful at all, and that every awesome thing he does is through borrowed power – Sanae’s spiritual sense, Yurika’s magical protection, Theia and Ruth’s powered armor, etc. He accepts this, and keeps his humility. This contrasts him with the power-mad villain of the story, who is desperate to get power and will use any means necessary, and what’s more sees Alaia’s sword as a symbol of the power, to the degree that if he gets the sword he doesn’t actually need the princess or the kingdom. This is, of course, what makes him the villain. As for Koutarou, one could argue his natural charm, which allows the girls to fall for him and thus give him their strength, is his true power, but given the sort of series this is, I don’t expect him to realize that anytime soon. He never even realized he was the historical Blue Knight.

So another good Rokujouma, though I am definitely looking forward to returning to the present for the next few books. I do wonder if we’ll see the giant dragon that Koutarou and Clan befriended at the end of the book – it’s certainly set up that we will. In the meantime, Shizuka is on the cover of Book 9, meaning presumably that Book 10 will develop her, under the Rokujouma cover art rules. Despite its length, Rokujouma remains one of J-Novel Club’s best series to date.

Wake Up, Sleeping Beauty, Vol. 1

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By Megumi Morino | Published by Kodansha Comics

Tetsu Misato makes up for what he lacks in height with his energy and determination. Due to a mysterious promise he made to his hospitalized mother, Tetsu is driven to earn money. So much so that he plains to join the work force after graduation and already is working several part-time jobs while in high school, abandoning the soccer team as a result. To prove to his father that he is ready to hold down a job, he begins working through his father’s housekeeping agency at the Karasawa mansion. There have long been rumors that the place is haunted, but Tetsu soon learns that the “frail, sickly daughter” who allegedly lives in a separate building is a real and friendly girl, no apparition at all.

In fact, Shizu doesn’t seem ill at all, but some of the things she says are strange, like “I’d like you to come see me… to see Shizu Karasawa again.” And when Tetsu confesses his love (thankfully without prolonged angst) Shizu is troubled and invites him to visit again on his next work day before she gives him a straight answer. When he complies, he finds a completely different Shizu, who refers to the personality Tetsu interacted with as “Haru” and only vaguely remembers Tetsu. She doesn’t seem to know who she herself really is.

Most of this first volume is Tetsu figuring out the mystery of what exactly Shizu’s deal is, which I don’t want to spoil, but I will say I definitely enjoyed the read. Early on, there are some gag reaction panels that aren’t particularly amusing, but which make the darker, creepier moments later on land with more impact. Tetsu is quite the scaredy cat, and while he initially visits Shizu because he cares about her (well, the Haru version, at least) and doesn’t want her to be lonely, by the end of the volume, Shizu’s mother has made him an offer he can’t refuse, and though he’s now scared of Shizu because of what he’s learned, he’s compelled to stay near her to protect someone he cares about—and this time, I think that’s referring to his mother or his family and ties in to the unknown reason that he needs to earn all that money. It’s a nice shift in his motivations, especially as it occurs after the real Shizu has shown that she cares about Tetsu, a first for her.

The tables have turned in their relationship, and I very much look forward to see how the story progresses from here.

Wake Up, Sleeping Beauty is complete in six volumes. Volume two will be out in English next week.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

In Another World with My Smartphone, Vol. 6

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By Patora Fuyuhara and Eiji Usatsuka. Released in Japan as “Isekai wa Smartphone to Tomo ni” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Andrew Hodgson.

Last time I said that the volume was jam-packed, and that goes double for this one – if I didn’t know this was based off of a webnovel, I’d start wondering if the author was being told to wrap it up. The anime’s last episode spoiled the fact that Touya would eventually end up with nine wives, and now the light novel does the same thing, though we only get one “official” new fiancee at this point. But if the first volume of Smartphone read like “Baby’s First Isekai”, then this one s the isekai of a hyperactive teenager who wants to tell all the stories at once. So Touya gets to help take down ANOTHER evil usurper, and we get to fight more magical beasts, as well as more of the enemy Phrase, who continue to be lurking in the background as a threat. I’d say the book is just watching Touya be cool, but honestly half the time it’s Touya passively watching the other women around him be cool – something he lampshades.

It’s sometimes difficult to know what to actually criticize with this series, as to a certain degree being exactly what you’d expect is part of its charm. For all I talk about the “strong female characters” in this series – and we get even more of them introduced here, including Battle Maid Training – they have the depth of paper. But so do the male characters, so everything’s equal there. More seriously, I am very grumpy about the villains in the first half of the book. I know that a lot of Japanese works seek to make the villains as bad as possible, and the evil prince here gets some rape and murder, and is also a pedophile. He’s also described as ugly and with a bowl cut, and his mother is described as ugly and fat. That’s far more annoying, and I didn’t like it at all. (The afterword implied it was deliberate, so no excuses.)

As for new things, Sue is now a fiancee, though Touya admits she’s really too young, so it’s more provisional in order to stop the evil guy. (There’s a brief line about the years in this world being much longer than our own, which I wish were made a bit more explicit.) We’re also introduced to a young woman Touya rescues from near-death, who has unfortunately lost her memories (Touya names her Sakura for now), as well as a genuine Princess Knight named Hildegard, who Touya rescues from some Phrase and gives cool swords to. At the moment, they’re both basically laying down new plots and then moving on, but again, anime watchers will likely recognize the faces. Touya also helps fight against counterfeiting, brings caramel corn to the world, and fights monsters that turn people to stone, which serves mostly as a way to give Some Lu fanservice (and remind the reader that Lu exists).

So everything’s Smartphone as usual, and honestly, I suspect I’m more grumpy about the villains being stereotypically “ugly and fat = evil” than the average reader will be. Those who have already read the book will note I left out the most important part of it. I like to think I’m saving it as a surprise for the reader. Let’s just say that Smartphone is moving ever closer to becoming Mazinger Z.

Fire Punch, Vol. 1

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By Tatsuki Fujimoto. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialized in the magazine Shonen Jump +. Released in North America by Viz Media. Translated by Christine Dashiell.

Wow. It’s hard not to read the first volume of Fire Punch without picking your jaw up off the floor a few times. As with some other titles of this nature, I will try to do a vague and ambiguous review in the first paragraph, then spoil things after the picture. So… well, Fire Punch is a hell of a well-crafted manga. The art is good, the plot is stark and horrifying, and there is certainly enough punching things with fire to satisfy even the most hardcore. I will say that this title is rated M for a reason, and there are innumerable horrible deaths, rape threats, actual rapes, and very nice people having very bad things happen to them. This is not surprising, as the story is about a young man who is burning (literally) with a desire for revenge on the man who killed his sister (and village, but, well, mostly his sister). I am not sure this journey is for me, but if you like dark dark fantasy and horror, you should like this.

Spoiler time HOLY ZARQUON’S SINGING FISH, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? From the very first few pages, where we see a teenage girl chop off her brother’s arm, and then be told to do it over and over again (he regenerates, it’s OK), to the copious discussions of cannibalism and which teen would taste more succulent, to the sister deciding that she wants to have babies with her brother, to the horrific massacre that ends by killing everyone except the brother, who is cursed to be ON FIRE FOREVER, the first chapter is an amazing and appalling experience. Sadly, the rest of the volume can’t keep the pace, though it tries, particularly at the end with, well, the man who asks people to love his dogs, I’ll leave it at that. We do meet a young woman who might be a regular in the future, and who seems to resemble our hero’s dead sister, but honestly this is the sort of series where you can never really count on anyone to survive more than 30 pages or so.

This is a story well-told, but I would not remotely call it enjoyable. There’s no hope and joy to balance out the unrelenting awful that is this world, from the deep freeze everyone seems to be in, to the village resorting to chopping off a boy’s arm over and over again to eat so they don’t starve, to endless rape threats, actual rape, and degradation of just about everyone. I’m not actually sure where the book is going with this – the cliffhanger to the first volume has our hero meeting the guy who killed his sister, but there’s apparently seven other volumes after this, so I assume revenge may be more complicated than he thought. In the end, it’s rare I read a title that I can intellectually know is well done while still getting a visceral “HELL NO” emotional reaction from me. If you like that sort of thing, and don’t mind feeling icky, give Fire Punch a try, because it’s a trip.

Waiting for Spring, Vols. 1-3

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By Anashin | Published by Kodansha Comics

Mitsuki Haruno is a first-year in high school who has always had trouble making friends. Her luck begins to change when she befriends the most popular quartet of boys in school. If someone read those sentences to me and asked me to guess in which magazine this manga was serialized, I’d say Dessert, based on past offerings we’ve seen from them (like Say I Love You.). And I would be right.

The fact that it’s a familiar premise doesn’t preclude Waiting for Spring from being enjoyable, however. Although the four boys can be almost instantly categorized into standard roles based on their appearance—the playful one, the intellectual one, the hotheaded one, the princely one—I appreciated that, like typical teenage boys, they are still occasionally jerks. Oh, sure, they’re idealized and do things like try to cheer up little kids through the power of basketball, but at least they’re not saints.

I also quite liked Mitsuki as a character. I could foresee a version of this story in which her failures to initiate social interaction with others might be frustrating, but that’s not the case here at all. The key seems to be Mitsuki’s honesty about the past experiences that are holding her back in the present, and by the end of the third volume she has made two female friends. Reina is, awesomely, a major fujoshi and envisions the four boys (all of whom are on the basketball team) in romantic pairings. I love the little background gags of her taking surreptitious pictures of them. Maki is a member of the girls basketball team who, unbeknownst to Mitsuki, also has a thing for princely Asakura.

We also meet Aya, the childhood friend whom Mitsuki thought was a girl. Turns out (no real surprise) that he is a boy and is determined to win Mitsuki’s affections. He’s insistent to a troubling degree, but again, I appreciate that Mitsuki is firm in her refusals, even managing to defuse conflict between Aya and Asakura by proposing that she’ll go on the date Aya wants after the inter-high tournament, but that Asakura will come too and it’ll be a fun group thing. I get that we’re supposed to appreciate how much Aya’s friendship meant to Mitsuki when she was young, given that she had no other friends, but I wonder… are readers really supposed to like this guy? At least his presence spurs Asakura (generally sleepy and/or oblivious) to realize what his feelings for Mitsuki are.

But will he act on those feelings? The boys on the basketball team are not allowed to date. I did find it strange that although these boys talk about how much basketball means to them, because this is shoujo manga, we see sadly little of it. In volume three, the inter-high preliminaries have begun and in the space of 1.5 pages, the boys have won five games. I know this isn’t a sports manga, but c’mon… I’d like to see more than that! Another thing to appreciate about Mitsuki is that, while many of the team’s other female fans are just there to look at the cute boys, she understands how important the game is to Asakura and overcomes her shyness and orchestrate a cheering section when they fall behind during a practice game. Too, I greatly appreciate that she hasn’t had to deal with any mean girls warning her away from the boys. (Reina’s occasional “grr” reactions at girls hanging around them are enough.)

So, yes, this is a low-key series that isn’t breaking any new ground. That said, I still like it. The sweet moments between Mitsuki and Asakura take me back to adolescence when the first time you hold hands with someone is a tremendously big deal and the art style is attractive. The conclusion seems pretty obvious already, but I expect I’ll enjoy getting there all the same.

Waiting for Spring is ongoing in Japan, where it is up to eight volumes. Three volumes are currently out in English, with the fourth scheduled for release next week.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Arifureta: From Commonplace to World’s Strongest, Vol. 4

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By Ryo Shirakome and Takayaki. Released in Japan as “Arifureta Shokugyou de Sekai Saikyou” by Overlap. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Ningen.

We’ve been waiting for some time for Hajime’s path to intersect with the rest of his high school class, and it finally arrives in this volume, which appropriately has Kaori on the cover. It also provides us with a nice comparison between the two lives the groups are currently leading. Hajime, at the start of the volume, is trying to date his rabbit girl (with Yue’s permission, of course), but cannot help but accidentally get caught up in a string of ludicrous situations that end up with him semi-adopting a small mermaid-ish girl and also casually destroying an underground slave ring and mob over the course of, oh, an hour or so. Meanwhile, his class has gotten down to the 90th floor, and suddenly run into a demon with a bunch of monster minions, many of whom are invisible, and get their clocks absolutely cleaned. It’s serious and dramatic and… you’re counting the pages waiting for Hajime to show up again.

There are a few interesting characters among the class herd, of course. Kaori is still just as obsessed as she ever was – in fact, we get a hilarious extra story showing off how obsessed with Hajime she was from the moment she first saw him – and it’s no surprise that the volume ends with her joining Hajime’s party, though not without difficulty – it’s hard to topple Yue from the top, and she doesn’t, but like all the other girls, Yue’s absolute strength of love for Hajime gives her the courage to confess her own. Shizuku rises from “snarky best friend” to top-tier in this volume, proving smart, capable, and wielding an amazingly sharp tongue. The way she gets Hajime to promise not to mistreat Kaori is the funniest part of the book, and I won’t spoil it. She also gives excellent advice to Kouki, the actual cliched “hero called to save the world”, though I’m not sure it will stick. Kouki sounds like the author will always want him to be teeth-grindingly wrong in a Dudley Do-Right way, so I suspect the next time he meets Hajime things won’t go well – particularly after that cliffhanger.

But yeah, I had a lot of trouble remembering who was who in the rest of the class, and those I did remember didn’t appeal to me (sorry, Suzu, you need more in your quiver than “comedy lesbian”). And to a degree that’s the point. Interesting as it was to see the class struggle and mostly fail against a string of monsters far beyond their abilities, and deal with the idea that they’ll actually have to kill enemies, that’s not what we’re reading Arifureta for. The reader wants Hajime impaling monsters with one blow, Yue burning everything in sight, and Shea swinging her hammer around (and also riding Hajime’s faux motorcycle, the other contender for “funniest moment” in the book). Like other ridiculous isekai series (hi, Smartphone), it works best when it’s ridiculous. That said, the contrast between ridiculous and desperately serious here made this an excellent volume.

Unmagical Girl, Vol. 1

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By Ryouichi Yokoyama and Manmaru Uetsuki. Released in Japan as “”Hihou” Mahou Shoujo no Sonogo no Nichijou” by Ichijinsha, serialized in the magazine PoniMaga (Pony Canyon). Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Beni Axia Conrad. Adapted by Gretchen Schrafft.

Expectations can be tricky. It’s almost impossible to go into reading something without an idea of what you’ll think of it. When I first saw that Seven Seas had licensed Unmagical Girl, my first thought was to dismiss it as another one of the endless series of “let’s kill of magical girls in a grimdark way” series that the companies have been licensing in an effort to have the next Madoka Magica. I was therefore pleased to see that that isn’t the case for this title. This is the sotry of what happens when a magical girl ends up in the real world, and the fallout from such. The cover depicts the titular magical girl walking through a shopping district, looking pensive. I was thus expecting some sweet yet melancholic soul searching. Wrong again. Now I’ve actually read the title, and it’s clear that we’re going after broad comedy. If you liked Aho Girl, you’ll like this.

Our heroine – or, more accurately, our straight man – is Mayuri, a plain glasses-wearing girl who “doesn’t have any friends” in the best protagonist of a manga tradition. Her father used to direct anime that was known for being “niche”, which is to say not very popular. He did have a title called “Pretty Angel Nirvana” which is now very popular… about five spinoffs later, and now no one really remembers or cares about the original. Oh, and he’s dead. Her mother sends Mayuri an old computer with some of his stuff on it, though, and after accidentally crying tears on the computer while wishing for a friend, Mayuri is startled to find the computer exploding, and out stepping NirBrave, the ditzy yet powerful heroine from the original series. She’s now in the real world, which poses endless problems, as she reacts to problems in a magical girl way, eats like a magical girl heroine (i.e. a ton), and is, in general, somewhat obnoxious.

How much you enjoy this very much depends on your love of loud, brash comedy. I compared it to Aho Girl earlier, and it’s pretty accurate – I had a lot of fun reading the manga, but it quickly began to pall as I realized that it seemed to be hitting a lot of the same notes. There are some amusing things here – NirBrave’s horror at reading a porn doujinshi of her series made me chuckle, and the landlady is an excellent caricature of the type of landlady you see in a lot of series like these, who has the ability to get money out of a stone. Later in the series we also get some more magical girls and magical villains, as apparently NirBrave’s arrival in the real world started a trend, and we see NirBrave facing off against her fellow magical girl NirWind. Unfortunately, its occasional attempts at depth and pathos fall pretty flat. It’s not for kids – there are a few blatant panty shots here and there, and a nude transformation sequence that seems to inflate NirBrave’s bust by a factor of three – and it’s not really for magical girl fans either. If you like broad, slap-on-the-black style humor, though, you may have fun with Unmagical Girl.

Drifting Dragons, Vols. 1-2

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The nineteenth century whaler was a tough character. He’d board a ship in Nantucket or New Bedford, sail around the tip of South America and then into the Pacific hunting grounds in quest of sperm whales. Every aspect of his job was dangerous and unpleasant; as author Eric Jay Dolin notes in Leviathan: The History of Whaling in America, crewmen endured “backbreaking work, tempestuous seas, floggings, pirates, putrid food, and unimaginable cold” during their long stints at sea. At the end of a two- or three-year tour, a whaler might still be in debt from all the equipment he’d purchased at the outset of his journey, especially if the ship’s yield was low. Yet the gruesome work he performed was vital to the Victorian economy: whales’ bodies yielded the fat, bones, and oils that illuminated homes, corseted ladies, and gave shine and staying power to paint (Dolin 12).

The characters in Taku Kuwabara’s Drifting Dragons are engaged in a similar enterprise: they trawl the skies in a flying ship looking for dragons. The opening pages of the story make the connection between whaling and “draking” explicit, as we join the crew of the Quin Zaza on an aerial Nantucket sleigh ride. We glimpse a dragon through a parting in the clouds: first its back, then its tail, and finally the entire animal, as enormous and majestic as a blue whale. As the wounded dragon begins to tire, a crew member rappels down the tow line to plunge a harpoon into the animal’s back, delivering the final blow:

This image is a perfect introduction to draking, simultaneously conveying the peril and thrill of hunting such a powerful, swift animal at high altitude. Kuwabata’s thin, graceful lines and sparing use of screen tone capture the speed of the wind, the texture of the dragon’s skin, and the delicate feathering on the dragon’s ears, but also the vast emptiness of the sky. These details allow us to imagine for ourselves what it would be like to stand astride the dragon’s back, gazing at a mountain peak that’s poking above the clouds, or looking back at the ship and realizing the impossibility of rescue if something goes wrong.

As exciting as the dragon hunting sequences are, Drifting Dragons is as much an exercise in careful world-building as action-oriented storytelling. Kuwabara devotes page after page to the crew’s routines, capturing the heat, smell, and physical labor of stripping meat from bones and rendering fat. He also renders the physical environment of the Quin Zaza in precise detail, from the main deck and crow’s nest to the sleeping quarters and the hold, where most of the butchering, smoking, and boiling takes place. Last but not least, Kuwabara shows us how each member of the crew contributes to the functioning of the ship, and explains what first drew them to the skies.

Though the crew is drawn in broader strokes than the ship itself, the characters are distinctive enough to register as people with feelings, desires, motivations, and frustrations. Kuwabara is generous with his supporting cast, giving each a scene or subplot that reveals an unexpected facet of their personalities. Kuwabara lavishes the most attention, however, on the Mutt-and-Jeff duo of Mika and Takita: he’s a bold risk-taker with little regard for his own safety, while she’s a cautious newbie, eager to learn the ropes and prove her worth.

In trying to make Mika a more fully rounded character, however, Kuwabara depicts him as a swaggering gourmet, an Anthony Bourdain of the air. Mika is always dreaming up new strategies for preparing dragon meat, regaling his shipmates with lengthy monologues about a new technique he tried or goading the Quin Zaza’s cook into making his favorite dishes. This culinary concept carries over to the end of each chapter, which concludes with detailed recipes for Dragon Tail Meat Sandwich, Dragonet alla Diavola, and Pressed Dragon Liver Confit. These interludes aren’t very funny or appetizing; if anything, they feel more like a naked attempt to jump on the weird-cooking-manga bandwagon than an organic part of the story Kuwabara’s trying to tell.

If Drifting Dragons’ efforts at comedy fall flat, the manga is nonetheless engrossing. Kurabawa clearly knows the history of whaling, and has found a clever way to integrate those details into his fantasy world. At the same time, however, the vividness of the world he’s created has its own integrity; one could read Drifting Dragons in blissful ignorance of Moby Dick or The Wreck of the Whaleship Essex and still be swept up in the activity of the Quin Zaza’s crew and the thrill of flying alongside dragons in the clouds. Highly recommended.

WORKS CITED

Dolin, Eric Jay. Leviathan: The History of American Whaling. W.W. Norton & Co., 2007.

Kuwabata, Taku. Drifting Dragons, vols. 1-2. Translated by Adam Hirsch. Kodansha Advanced Media, LLC, 2018.

Queen’s Quality Vol 2

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Queen’s Quality Volume 2 by Kyousuke Motomi

Kyousuke Motomi shoujo series are entertaining and refreshing for me to read, because while romance certainly is a feature, it often takes a backseat to subversive humor and action oriented plots involving hackers or the demons that lurk inside the souls of humans. This volume of Queen’s Quality continues the exploration into the twisted soul of a teacher who was bullying students, and Fumi and Kyutaro have to combine their abilities yet again in order to root out the bugs that cause a sort of soul malaise to spread to people like an infectious disease.

Motomi’s humor is on full display in a scene where Fumi is going to pick her sacred psychic weapon and instead of summoning a spear of light or magic sword she conjures a long-handled scrub brush. Kyutaro suggests that she try for another weapon but Fumi is delighted with her weapon because it is perfectly balanced and the best possible implement for cleaning toilets. Fumi’s cartoonish enthusiasm as she waves her brush around in the air is one of the few light-hearted moments in this volume, because once the Sweepers head into the brain of Ms Hayashi, things get both scary and surreal.

Kyutaro’s role as a steady emotional support to Fumi becomes even more important as she reveals another aspect to her hidden power as they battle their most challenging bugs yet. The layers of protection that exist in Fumi’s mind that hide her memories as well as her ability to consciously manifest her role as a “Queen” make Queen’s Quality an intriguing character study. The violent psychic landscape that the couple has to navigate contrasts with the more mundane chores of cleaning and making rice porridge back in the real world. Motomi is great at portraying slightly broken characters with great nuance, and it’ll be interesting to see if Fumi and Kyutaro manage to heal each other and achieve some sort of peace by the end of the series.

Kieli: The Dead Sleep in the Wilderness

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By Yukako Kabei and Shunsuke Taue. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Alethea and Athena Nibley.

This is a digital re-release of a novel series that Yen originally published back in 2009, before the light novel boom. Which is good, as this really doesn’t feel like a light novel. Honestly, if it weren’t for the interstitial illustrations, which make Kieli look sort of cute and manga-ish, I wouldn’t even guess the author was Japanese. Instead, it feels like an odd fusion of children’s fantasy and Western, as if C.S. Lewis and Louis L’Amour had decided to collaborate. The main thrust of the story (clearly written as a one-shot, though there are eight other volumes after this) is to show the growth of its title character, a young girl living in a typical repressive pseudo-English boarding school that just happens to be in a post-apocalyptic world run by the Church. Fortunately, she’s got a perky roommate for company. Unfortunately, she also ahs a secret: she can see and interact with ghosts.

And yes, it has a new cover for the Western edition, which is meant to attract casual non-anime fan readers. If I recall correctly, Yen also did this with Spice & Wolf and Haruhi Suzumiya. At first I thought the cover image was a camera – it’s not till we get further into the book that you realize that it’s a radio, possessed by a ghost of an old soldier. The book gets started when Kieli and her roommate Becca meet a seemingly dead young man in the train station right before holidays. This is Herbie… pardon me, Harvey, who is an Undying, a former supersoldier used to end the war that was the cause of the apocalypse mentioned earlier. Like most inhuman yet sentient weapons created to fight a war, the Church has a very different view on him now. The thrust of the book involves Kieli accompanying him on a train journey, supposedly so she can get some history to write an essay for school, but in reality because these two are simply drawn to each other, and also because Kieli draws trouble to her wherever she walks.

The book is well-written and the characters are enjoyable, particularly Kieli, as she’s just the right combination of “intelligent and precocious girl” while still occasionally being a child. The first two-thirds of the book function as interlocking short stories, as we see Kieli and Harvey go to a new place and Kieli run into what she first thinks is a person but turns out to be a ghost – indeed, by the end of the book I was starting to wonder if anyone Kieli was going to run into was actually alive. Even the villain is an Undying like Harvey. It’s not clear how special her power to see ghosts is – Harvey doesn’t seem impressed, but that’s more a function of his personality, and the villain seems to want to torture her more than use her abi8lities. It’s a nice way to be able to show that the series can go on if enough people read it – and indeed, it did continue, with Vols. 2 and 3 due out later this month on Kindle, Nook, etc.

After a December filled with a more modern strand of light novel plots, I enjoyed reading the more subdued and thoughtful Kieli. Recommended for those who like teen fantasy but avoid the traditional Japanese light novel cliches.