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Reviews

Baccano!: 1933 The Slash -Cloudy to Rainy-

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By Ryohgo Narita and Katsumi Enami. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Taylor Engel.

After a brief foray into the 21st century, Baccano! returns to its main plot, which takes place in the 1930s. Many of the main characters are featured in some way or another here, and in a way it feels like the author is writing enjoyable set pieces, as if he’s finally gotten a grip on writing everyone. Isaac and Miria are fun, loud, and seemingly completely random; Luck is seemingly cool but in reality rather frustrated with everything happening around him; Jacuzzi cries a lot but buckles down when he needs to, etc. That said, the book also features two minor characters from earlier books who get the spotlight here, and I suspect enjoyment of it depends on how much you enjoy those characters. It’s also, as you may have guessed by the title, the first of a two-parter, and unlike Grand Punk Railroad, this is definitely incomplete.

Tick Jefferson is in the top third of the cover art. We saw him before as the Gandor family’s torture expert, and he seemed like another of Narita’s ‘smiling insane guys’. Which he may be, to a lesser degree – he still really loves cutting people apart. But we get a bit of his family background, as well as a surprising amount of his philosophy, and see that when he’s not torturing people he’s surprisingly level-headed. His partner in the book (middle third of the cover) is Maria Barcelito, one of the assassins that we saw Claire completely destroy in the 4th novel, who joined the Gandors because she was so impressed by Keith stopping Claire. On the bright side, the Gandors gained a powerful assassins, probably their most powerful fighter. On the down side, Maria is annoying as hell, immature, can’t stop trying to cut anyone and anything with her swords, and is desperately in need of some humbling. Fortunately, she gets it in spades at the end of the book.

The bottom third of the cover art is Chane Laforet, the “girl in the black dress” from the Railroad books. The cliffhanger to those books had her being picked up by Jacuzzi’s gang, and she’s now living with them in Eve Genoard’s mansion in upper Manhattan (the explanation for why a gang is living in the Genoard mansion made me roll my eyes a bit, but I can see Eve just agreeing and then forgetting about it, especially given her obsession with finding Dallas). Chane doesn’t interact with Jacuzzi’s gang as much as I’d have liked, but she clearly values them highly as friends. She’s also clearly hooked up with Claire, something also implied at the end of the railroad arc, and I suspect Claire will have more to do in the next volume.

As for the villains, well, technically I suppose it’s Huey, though his daughter is unaware of what he’s doing. He has a group of people trying to offer Jacuzzi’s gang the power of immortality (please God no, I love the fact that Jacuzzi and Nice’s gang are just normal scrappy kids), though this goes south when their demo – Dallas Genoard, freshly retrieved from a sunken river and just as much of a giant dumbass – ends up getting too obnoxious and gets slashed. A lot. Immortality sounds great till you see that you can still feel horrible pain. We really only meet two of the villainous gang here. Tim is the leader and also shares a secret past with Tick Jefferson, and seems to be there to watch what was supposed to be a smooth situation spiral out of control. Adele is seemingly shy and meek… but in reality seems to really love fighting more than anyone. And we haven’t even met the mysterious Christopher yet…

This is a decent book, and I recommend it for those reading the series, obviously. That said, it really needs its second half, and feels slight as a result. It does have some rewards for the careful reader (watch Isaac and Miria’s reaction to the Genoard mansion), and Tick and Maria can be a lot of fun provided you don’t pay too much attention to how aggravating Maria is most of the time. You may want to wait till April and read this with its conclusion.

Umineko: When They Cry, Vol. 16

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Story by Ryukishi07; Art by Eita Mizuno. Released in Japan in three separate volumes as “Umineko no Naku Koro ni: Requiem of the Golden Witch” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Shonen Gangan. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Stephen Paul.

It’s been nearly a year since we last checked in on Rokkenjima. We have two arcs left, and they’re both packed to the gills – each is nine volumes total. And they’re sometimes big volumes. That means this first omnibus of three by Yen is 826 pages long, but fortunately it doesn’t feel like you’re reading a lot. By now we’re familiar with everyone in the story, and since Requiem is, for the most part, devoted to explaining the mysteries from the previous six arcs, everything glides along very smoothly. Well, we’re familiar with almost everyone in the story. This volume is noticeably short on Battler, who only shows up at the very start. Instead we get Willard D. Wright, who is to S. S. Van Dine what Dlanor is to Ronald Knox. Battler was a teenager who liked mysteries, Willard is an actual detective. And he’s here to get answers, along with his Watson, the heir to the Ushiromiya family, Lion.

That’s Lion on the front cover there, and you might be forgiven for a certain lack of recognition. And also wonder, as Will does, what Lion’s gender is. Ryukishi07 has deliberately hidden this from us, and explicitly told the manga artist (best known for Spiral: Bonds of Reasoning) to do the same, so I will try not to use gender pronouns. That said, if you understand Kinzo’s monstrous sexism from previous arcs, you can easily hazard a guess as to what gender his beloved grandchild and heir is. Lion is a lot of fun (and yes, the name completes the horrible Eva – Ange – Lion pun), pinching Will’s ass whenever he acts callous, which is a lot of the time. Will is retired, and doesn’t want to be here, but Bernkastel is basically forcing him to solve everything for her master. So we see him ask Rosa about what happened that day in 1967, talk to Jessica about her own experiences with being rude to Beatrice (or more accurately, Maria), and find out how Kinzo really got all that gold and who Beatrice was originally. (Admittedly, Kinzo’s story seems very romantic and idealized – you’re left wondering if that’s really all that happened.)

The ugliest part of this volume is, hands down, the section where everyone talks about the fact that Kinzo raped his own daughter, and all the servants basically say “well, yeah, that happened, but he really loved her mother, see?”. It’s infuriating, and at least Genji had the good sense to hide the next generation down until he was sure it wouldn’t happen AGAIN. Speaking of which, as rapidly becomes clear, Lion’s existence here ties into the 5th arc, where Natsuhi shoved the baby she’d been given by Kinzo to raise as her own off a cliff. Lion is what happens when she DOESN’T do that, something that Bern says is an incredibly rare thing. It’s to Lion’s credit that the first thing that comes to mind is defending Natsuhi, who really is a loving mother here. Honestly, Lion holds up pretty well with everything that’s going on, especially when we find out that in all the worlds where Natsuhi shoved the baby off the cliff, we get Beatrice, not Lion.

Towards the end of this omnibus, Will reveals the culprit to Lion and Bernkastel – but not to us, as we’re still supposed to make guesses. That said, many of the hints are laid out in front of us this volume as well. The fact that Shannon and Kanon are the only ones besides Will to not know who Lion is. The fact that when Will asks Shannon to go get Kanon so he can talk to them together, Shannon has possibly the scariest mental breakdown in the entire series. And the fact that when we get the “culprit” POV at the end, we see her, in 1976, working with a Shannon who looks exactly the same age as she does in 1986. Speaking of the word culprit, if you weren’t already horrified by the Evangelion pun, the fact that the nickname for the culprit is “Yasu” will surely have you rolling your eyes and grinding your teeth – that is, if you know Japanese mystery games.

This is, incest apologia aside, one of my favorite arcs, and the manga artist does a great job bringing it to life. Next time around we’ll get more flashbacks, as “Yasu” grows up, falls in love, and becomes a witch. If you’ve been reading Umineko all along, this is an essential volume.

Mangasia: The Definitive Guide to Asian Comics

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The strengths and weaknesses of Paul Gravett’s latest book are neatly encapsulated in its title. Though the book purports to be a “definitive guide to Asian comics,” Gravett’s true aim is to trace the influence of the Japanese manga industry on comic book traditions across the Asian continent, from China and South Korea to Bhutan, India, Indonesia, Malayasia, Mongolia, and Vietnam.

Gravett’s thesis rests on two core assumptions. First, he argues that manga is Asia’s dominant comic book tradition, as evidenced by its “cultural influence and its extraordinary sales figures” (24); even Japan’s dojinshi (amateur) scene, he observes, “has more participants and publications than entire national markets” (31). Second, Gravett argues that colonialism played an essential role in extending manga’s reach beyond Japanese borders. The first wave of colonization was physical: as Japan invaded and occupied neighboring countries, manga proved “an ideal medium for spreading propaganda about the benefits of Japan’s leadership” and painting the Japanese as liberators, freeing Asia from Europe’s tyrannical grasp. The second wave of colonization was virtual: in the years following World War II, a demilitarized Japan reinvented itself as an industrial powerhouse, exporting consumer goods and pop-cultural products — manga, anime, and video games — in what Gravett characterizes as a “soft cultural invasion” of Asia and the West (14-15).

Gravett eschews a strictly chronological or geographical approach to the material, instead grouping his examples under six suggestive headings: “Mapping Mangasia,” “Fable and Folklore,” “Recreating and Revising the Past,” “Stories and Storytellers,” “Censorship and Sensibility,” and “Multimedia Mangasia.” This thematic approach gives him the freedom to explore parallels between manga and other Asian comic traditions in a creative — if sometimes non-linear — fashion. In his introductory chapter, for example, he traces the influence of Western comic strips across East Asia, showing how syndicated cartoons such as George McManus’ Bringing Up Father (1913-2000) and Oscar Jacobsson’s Adamsson (1920-1953) helped popularize the comic strip format with artists in Japan, Korea, China, and the Philippines, inspiring them to develop their own characters who were wrestling with “the allure of affluence, the desire for upward social mobility, and the nostalgia… for simpler past pleasures,” just as McManus’ Jiggs and Maggie did (28).

Two later chapters — “Recreating and Revising the Past” and “Censorship and Sensibility” — offer Gravett an opportunity to examine the complex dynamic between nationalism, censorship, and comics. Using the Phillippines as an example, Gravett explores the changing way in which Filipino artists depicted Japanese colonialism. His analysis focuses on three series: The Kalibapi Family, a wartime comic strip created at the behest of the Japanese Propaganda Corps; Kalawang sa Bakal (Corrosion of Steel), one of the first postwar comics to grapple with the horrors of Japan’s invasion of the Philippines; and Suicide Susy, a long-running series that pitted a spunky Filipina saboteur against Japanese soldiers. Over the course of forty years, Gravett observes, Japanese characters evolved from benign overlords to symbols of foreign oppression, reminders of Filipino collaboration, and — in the Marcos era — bumbling villains whose foolish antics distracted from the Marcos’ ruthless treatment of their own people.

“Censorship and Sensibility” also delves into gender politics. As one might expect, Gravett addresses genres such as yaoi, recognizing them as both pornography and resistance. “Manga about male-male romance,” he argues, “offer women an expressive playground in which to question and customize the alternatives to the oppressive heteronormativity of the powerful male and the weak female” (217). Gravett examines the legal complexities of obscenity laws as well, using Rokudenashiko’s protracted battle with the Japanese government to expose the inherent misogyny in many such regulations. He notes that she was convicted of distributing digital pictures of her vagina, but not for hanging manko (pussy) art in a gallery that only admitted women. “In the Japanese court’s eyes,” Gravett drily notes, “only men can be aroused by a vagina” (218-19).

For sheer visual beauty, Mangasia‘s stand-out chapter of  is “Fables and Folklore,” which focuses on comic-book adaptations of such important national texts as the Romance of the Three Kingdoms (China) and the Ramayana (India). The imagery runs the gamut from the merely functional to the photorealistic, with some genuinely striking selections. Zhang Guangyu’s wordless treatment of Journey to the West (1945), for example, is a unique synthesis of Chinese, Persian and Mexican influences, yielding a series of images that are at once playful and somber, rendered in a muted palette similar to Diego Rivera’s most famous murals, while Anant Pai and Ram Waeerkar’s Hanuman (1971) strikes an elegant balance between classical Hindu depictions of the popular deity and contemporary portrayals of superheroes and martial artists.

As one might expect from such a wide-ranging book, Mangasia‘s chief fault is its ambition: Gravett discusses examples from nineteen countries over a 100-year period, a tall order for a single volume. Important texts and artists get a few sentences each, making it difficult to fully appreciate their impact on the comics medium in their own countries or elsewhere. Likewise, historical contexts are rendered in broad strokes, through timelines and generalizations. In “Stories and Storytellers,” for example, Gravett asserts that “In the aftermath of World War II, the next generation in Japan strived to make their lives better,” a sentence that only hints at the incredible devastation caused by American bombing, or the economic hardships faced by ordinary Japanese citizens in the 1950s (164).

The title itself points to another drawback of Gravett’s approach: some of the examples in Mangasia bear only a tenuous visual connection to manga. In the absence of a clear, specific discussion of how manga influenced comics outside the immediate sphere of Japanese colonization, the reader is left to wonder whether a comic book retelling of the Mahabharata owes a debt to Shotaro Ishimonori, or if the story borrows more heavily from Indian sources. Some attempt to demonstrate the size of the international manga market, identify the countries where manga is most popular with readers, discuss the global piracy of manga, or examine manga fandoms across the Asian continent would have provided useful context for understanding how manga has insinuated itself into such a diverse array of comic traditions.

Whatever the limitations of a pan-Asian survey, Gravett recognizes the enormous cultural, religious, and historical differences that separate Muslim Indonesia from Hindu India, Buddhist Tibet, and the Catholic Philippines. If these differences are sometimes glossed over in service to his thesis, Gravett nonetheless does an admirable job of balancing discussion of Asian comics as a singular phenomenon and Asian comics as a set of discrete but overlapping traditions. The book’s design complements Gravett’s curatorial approach with evocative juxtapositions that reveal how certain themes and storytelling techniques manifest themselves across cultural lines.

The real stars of the show, however, are the 1,000 images that grace Mangasia‘s pages, allowing readers to see the transformation of a rough pencil sketch into a finished page, savor the richly saturated color palette and dynamic flow of a martial-arts adventure, and note the growing influence of digital technology on comic art. Whether you’re a manga reader or a comics scholar, the best way to tackle Mangasia is to follow Park Chan-wook’s advice, which appears at the very beginning of the text. “There’s the joy of simply taking in the art,” he observes (13), an apt assessment of this fascinating, flawed book’s appeal. Recommended.

Thames & Hudson provided a review copy.

Gravett, Paul. Mangasia: The Definitive Guide to Asian Comics, foreword by Park Chan-wook, Thames & Hudson, 2017.

Rokka: Braves of the Six Flowers, Vol. 3

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By Ishio Yamagata and Miyagi. Released in Japan by Shueisha. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Jennifer Ward.

I have to say that I was groaning when the beginning of this third volume dealt once again with “which one of us is the traitor”. Fortunately, like Book 2, the question quickly gets set aside as we deal with an ever-growing threat. We also deal with the return of Nashetania, who’s still trying to pursue her goal even if she has to kill a bunch of people. Her loopy amorality was a highlight of the first book, so I was looking forward to this. Sadly, we don’t get nearly as much Nashetania in the book as I’d like. Chamo is also sidelined, and Mora reduced to support. The first half mostly focuses on Adlet, Fremy and Rolonia getting into various fights and trying to figure out how to stop Nashetania – or at least find her. The other half of the book focuses on Goldof, as you might have guessed from the cover, and we get his backstory and see why he is so devoted to his princess.

The main problem with this is that Goldof is fairly stoic, with his quirk being a berserker rage and urge to destroy that only turns off around Nashetania. His past is tragic, but his churlish acceptance of it (and violence against women and children) make it harder to sympathize. Nashetania is the most interesting part of the flashback, and we also learn a bit about how she got to be the way she is (pretty much brainwashed since birth into being a cultist, which… well, fits her pretty well). In the present, Goldof’s narration shows him trying to figure out what the fiends are doing, who’s lying, and how he can be both a Brave and save Nashetania. I found it rather frustrating that Goldof kept thinking of himself as not as smart as Adlet, particularly as Adlet has never been all that smart in this series. He’s not all that smart here either, basically just running around till he arrives at the climax.

The best part of Rokka continues to be the mysteries of each book, which are pretty hard to figure out – the revelation about how one trick is done is sort of impressive and also rather disgusting. Even if the solutions aren’t as satisfying as the author thinks, it did keep me constantly trying to figure things out, the goal of any mystery. Sadly, the main issue with Rokka continues to be that I just don’t find the characters all that compelling. I enjoyed Mora when she was the focus in Book 2, but without her backstory she’s basically dull. Adlet is nowhere near as main character-ish as he should be, and as I said before, Goldof is supposed to be dumb muscle, but can come across easily as unlikable dumb muscle, especially when give the standard “save the world or save the woman you love” choice.

We’re now halfway through the series, and I’m not ready to give up on it just yet, but I really would like the real traitor to be found so that the book can move forward, and I’ll be honest: this series cries out for a manga spinoff that’s a high school AU. Mildly recommended, with reservations.

Children of the Whales, Vol. 1

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By Abi Umeda. Released in Japan as “Kujira no Kora wa Sajou ni Utau” by Akita Shoten, serialization ongoing in the magazine Mystery Bonita. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by JN Productions.

In general, I try to review something fairly soon after I read it, if only to ensure the volume sticks in my head. But sometimes the queue gets really long and things slide to the back. This can be unfortunate. When I read Children of the Whales back in November, I thought it was pretty creepy but intriguing, if a bit too depressing for my taste, and firmly in the genre of “we discover that our world is not what it seems and must fight for survival”. All of which is true. Then I read The Promised Neverland, one of Viz’s new Jump titles, which is not the same premise, but has enough similarities that I couldn’t help but compare the two. And, two be honest, Children of the Whales is not as good. The desire to immediately see more and figure out how the cast will succeed that I got with The Promised Neverland is, with Children of the Whales, replaced with “I wonder if the author is finished killing off interesting characters yet?”.

Our hero is Chakuro, who lives on a “mud whale” (hence the title), an island that seemingly moves through the desert in some post-apocalyptic land. Chakuro is an archivist, meaning he records births, deaths, etc. He’s also a bit of a weirdo. The mud whale has its own culture, with a mayor and everything, and its own taboos – such as grieving for those who have died, something that comes naturally to Chakuro, and thus gets him into trouble. He’s also got a cute childhood friend who clearly likes him. Then one day they run across another mud whale, and while exploring it find a seemingly emotionless girl, Lykos, who seems to be the last survivor. Unfortunately, though she doesn’t bring it herself, once she returns with them to their sand whale, terrible things begin to happen, as we find the world is not as abandoned as they had thought.

I think my main issue with Children of the Whales so far is that it seems to bleak. One of the characters killed off near the end was, in my mind, going to be used to set up a couple of different plots involving Chakuro and Lykos that would carry over into future volumes, but no, they’re brutally killed off to show us that Nothing Is The Same Anymore. And where The Promised Neverland shows us heroes who plan to fight back using pluck and grit, the cliffhanger to this book shows more of having to fight due to simple “otherwise I will be dead” despair. I just can’t really get involved with anyone here. It’s a shame, as the art is great, and the best reason to read this – the cover alone is fantastic. It conveys both the wonder of this world we’re discovering as well as its vicious, bloody destruction.

I know I shouldn’t be comparing two titles that are for different audiences in different magazines. But I find it very telling that after reading Children of the Whales, it drifted to the bottom of my review stack, whereas after reading The Promised Neverland I had to review it the very next day. Still, fans, of creepy fantasy/mystery series will likely enjoy this more than I did.

Walking My Second Path in Life, Vol. 1

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By Otaku de Neet and Kurodeko. Released in Japan as “Watashi wa Futatsume no Jinsei wo Aruku!” by Earth Star Entertainment. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Shirley Yeung.

It can be somewhat difficult to recommend light novel series at times, particularly the ones that are licensed over here, which tend to be marketed to the anime/manga fan, and generally speaking the male anime/manga fan. Many is the time I’ve read a series with many points to recommend it, only to have the storyline have a hero who gains about eight other women in love with him, or where the story is fine but the illustrations do nothing but show off the half-naked female form. Even The Faraway Paladin, which is about the closest comparison I can make to the title I’m reviewing, has elements of the classic “reincarnated in another world” story to it, though that lessens as the series goes along. But Walking My Second Path in Life is the first light novel I’ve read, I believe, that I can honestly say: this does not feel like a light novel. It feels like a romance book (with little to no romance) written for the average female North American reader.

Our heroine is the twin sister of the new Queen of a country. In fact, Fie is also, technically, married to the King as well – the twin sisters were a package deal. The problem is that Fie is the Unfavorite, and also has a reputation for being horrible. As such, the King gives her a pavilion of the palace to live in, with servants who one by one quit till she’s left alone to, presumably, starve to death. (The King’s callous motivations are rather ambiguous throughout.) Choosing not to do this, she instead comes across a flyer trying to get squires for the company of knights. She thus decides to cut off her hair, dress as a boy named Heath, and use the rudimentary sword training she got as a princess when someone bothered to give her the time of day to become a knight. The rest of the book is her life as a squire after achieving this, which (despite her best efforts) keeps occasionally intersecting with her old life – not least of which being the identity of her company commander.

The unfortunately named Otaku de Neet (it’s apparently a tortuous kanji pen name, but it leaves the fan who knows those two terms feeling very wary) has done an excellent job with Fie, who is your typical bright, enthusiastic young lad sort… except she (the book uses female pronouns throughout, and also calls her “Fie” in narration- Heath is a secret identity, after all) has a crafty, snarky, mean side to her as well. The mean side to her actually makes up some of the best scenes in the book, such as when she (in a flashback as Princess Fie) beats up rapist pedophiles with impunity, or when she gets around the fact that one of the squires has found out her secret by blackmailing him and treating him as a dog (trust me, it’s far more lighthearted and hilarious than it sounds). She’s a nice person at heart, though, be it Fie or Heath, and the rest of the main cast are also people who, while some are more fleshed out than other, I genuinely enjoy reading about. (I am morbidly curious about the other twin, who Fie never interacts with in this book.)

I won’t spoil some of the other great scenes – suffice to say the entire chapter with Cain is a treasure from beginning to end. I will note there is an attempted rape of an underage servant here, but Fie nips that in the bud before anything can happen. The illustrations are cute and fit the materials quite well. Even the squad member who dresses up as a woman in order to spy on the enemy is treated with (relative) respect and not made into the “comedy gay man”. Plus, since it’s only two volumes so far in Japan, you’re not laying out a lot of cash. I can’t even call it a fantasy – there doesn’t appear to be any magic in this world, it’s just a straight up medieval kingdom sort of world. If you like books with (pardon the expression) strong female leads, I highly recommend this series, possibly the biggest pleasant surprise I’ve seen from J-Novel Club to date.

The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi-chan, Vol. 11

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By Nagaru Tanigawa and Puyo. Released in Japan as “Suzumiya Haruhi-chan no Yuutsu” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialized in the magazine Shonen Ace. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Paul Starr.

And now, the end is near. And so we face the final curtain. Since the Haruhi Suzumiya novels began in Japan in 2003, we’ve seen two manga, two anime series, a movie, two manga spinoffs, and two anime of said manga spinoffs. In 2006, Haruhi was the hottest franchise around. But in 2017, quietly, the last Haruhi spinoff has come to an end, and as far as I can tell there’s nothing out there to replace it. The novels are effectively finished, as the author apparently has massive writer’s block. The main manga ended, and Nagato Yuki-chan’s manga ended. And now we have the final volume of Haruhi-chan, though the decision to end it here does appear to be fairly last-minute – if it weren’t for the word ‘Final’ on the cover and the author moving on to his next project, you’d never know it was over. And yet, it is over. There is no new Haruhi content coming from Japan.

As an ending, of course, it doesn’t work, because as I said above it has that “suddenly cancelled” feel to it. But as a volume, it’s pretty much giving Haruhi-chan readers exactly what they got the previous ten volumes. We get comedic takes on the main series, with Haruhi’s Giants set to destroy the world being created for the pettiest of reasons. There are comedic takes on Haruhi-chan’s plot (such as it is), with Mikuru desperate to have Haruhi hypnotized into thinking she’s a cat again so that she can be cuddled. There is the occasional story with Achakura, though you get the sense that once Ryoko became the heart and soul of the Nagato Yuki-chan franchise Puyo lost interest in her mini-me form. Yasumi is also still around, showing if nothing else that we haven’t moved past the final volume of the novels. (Sasaki and company are absent – the fact that any future anime is allergic to Sasaki almost became a running gag in the Nagato Yuki-chan anime.)

Puyo’s stuff seems to work best when he leans on the fourth wall to a degree. The opening chapter, after an amusing dream sequence, is a very matter-of-fact Haruhi getting up and getting dressed for school, with the punchline being that once she puts on the headband she turns into her goofy Haruhi-chan self. At one point, Haruhi somehow arranges it so that she has a chyron below her saying she has “a shocking statement”, causing everyone to wonder what the heck it is. An entire chapter is drawn where only Haruhi is the focus – something she immediately notices and tries to fix, as she’s in a swimsuit and notices that the gaze is fairly male. (No surprise, most of the readers of this series were male as well). The second to last chapter is my favorite – Haruhi is late, so Mikuru and Yuki are waiting alone, and Mikuru is trying desperately to have a non-awkward conversation with Yuki. We even get flashbacks to the novels, where adult Mikuru said Yuki was difficult for her to deal with. Her flailing effort to be interested in Yuki’s game is a failure on her end, but the punchline here is really sweet and heartwarming.

Gag comics are not for everyone, and honestly at 11 volumes this one probably went on longer than it should have. But I usually found a great deal to enjoy as I read it – Puyo knows the series inside and out, and allows the characters to be exaggerated while never feeling out of character, even if they’re the butt of the joke. If you enjoyed the Haruhi franchise and want to delve into it one more time, the book makes a pretty decent wake. Oh yes, and Kyon is a deer, because why not go out with one last impenetrable Japanese pun?

Mixed Bathing in Another Dimension: The Turbulent Underwater Baths

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By Nagaharu Hibihana and Masakage Hagiya. Released in Japan as “Isekai Konyoku Monogatari” by Overlap. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Sophie Guo.

I have to hand it to this volume of Mixed Bathing, it may have the most synonyms for “breasts” that I’ve seen in any light novel to date. I’m not sure whether to put this down to the original Japanese or the translation, but in any case, kudos to whoever made it so that I can read the word ‘bazongas’ in the midst of this. That said, the truly interesting thing about this volume is despite the fact that it ups the fanservice considerably, to the point where the middle third of the book is almost entirely the cast bathing naked and trying to show themselves off to Touya, it STILL all feels rather innocent. Touya is a teenage boy who likes girl’s bodies, but he’s still a really nice kid despite that, and Haruno, who has reunited with him, is exactly the same. In fact, that may be the most frustrating thing for fans of harem titles – despite reuniting for Haruno’s group, and thus adding a few more females, things are still super, super chaste. Not even a welcome back kiss.

The plot, such as it is, is that Touya’s group take their submarine to the Water Kingdom to a) find out what’s happened to Haruno, and b) get another blessing, as Haruno is now filling in for the Wind Goddess, whose corporeal body was destroyed in the current battle that’s gearing up. After meeting up and bathing for about 70-80 pages, we then get a bunch of things happening at once, as they’re attacked by the demon forces and have to fight back. They also learn more about what really happened 500 years ago, and I must admit I was very impressed with this. It’s always interesting seeing how history can be rewritten or changed over the course of a few centuries, and seeing that the kingdom of Ares destroying all the other countries may have been merely a metaphor for something else was great.

The downside is, of course, that the pace of this series is crawling. To some extent that’s its charm, but when you make even In Another World with My Smartphone look fast-paced and frenetic, you may be doing your job a little too well. And, of course, there’s the complete lack of conflict among the good guys. There’s a brief scene where Haruno and Clena meet and “have a chat”… and we don’t get to see it at all! The POV stays with Touya as he proceeds to show all the girls the seductive value of washing hair. Intensely frustrating. Whatever the chat was, it seems to have been peacefully settled, though, and once again you realize this is going to be a relatively conflict-free harem once the whole war against the demons gets taken care of. It’s refreshing, in a kind of boring sort of way.

All that said, I’m still enjoying this series, and I do like that, unlike a lot of other isekais that I know, the cast is made up of a bunch of sweetie-pies. And if nothing else, the reader will improve their vocabulary when it comes to the female bosom. We’re caught up with Japan, so it may be a bit before the 6th book, though.

To Love Ru, Vols. 1-2

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By Saki Hasemi and Kentaro Yabuki. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Jump. Released in North America by Ghost Ship. Translated by Alex Gaspard, Adapted by J.P. Sullivan.

As I began to read To Love Ru, a series about a hapless boy with a crush on his polite young friend whose life is turned upside down by the arrival of an alien girl with weird gadgets and her various enraged fiancees, I could not help but think “if they wanted Urusei Yatsura, why not just license Urusei Yatsura?”. That said, I know the reasons, and I also have no doubt that To-Love-Ru will sell better than UY ever did or would do. Honestly, To Love Ru being licensed at all is almost as surprising as a UY rescue would be – it was widely considered one of the Jump series that was never going to get over here because Viz simply didn’t want it. But Shueisha has loosened up their licensing restrictions a bit, and now we are allowed to get one of Jump’s iconic raunchy comedies via Seven Seas’ new imprint for racier titles, Ghost Ship.

I admit at first I was not really seeing what made this any different from Seven Seas’ other racy titles, like Monster Musume. As I said above, our hero is Rito, a classic “sad male harem protagonist” – Ataru Moroboshi would kick his ass – who is trying and failing to confess to fellow student Haruna that he likes her. One day, he is in his bath when out pops Lala, an alien running away from her home and her problems. Sadly, her problems come with her, and they then become Rito’s problems, mostly as she’s now declaring that he’s her fiancee, and transferring into his school. In among this, there are her various cutely named inventions, which don’t quite do what they should, and also tend to explode. Will he be able to confess to Haruna, who seems to like him? Will he fall for Lala? Will more girls show up in the next volume to add to the harem list? The last is most likely.

To Love Ru is not going to be winning any prizes for its main cast, as they are all rather nice and sweet and somewhat boring. This includes Lala, much to my surprise, who you’d think would at least try to be the traditional ‘gets jealous at the drop of a hat’ that the role entails. But no, she’s airheaded but really nice, and seems perfectly happy to help Rito and Haruna, despite, of course, also being engaged to him. Haruna is also pretty generic, and suffers from comparison to Nisekoi’s Onodera (yes, I know Nisekoi came out years after this in Japan). As for the content, the nipples aren’t eliminated, which makes a change from most shonen manga, but the one thing that struck me was in the hot springs chapter, Haruna is groped by a female classmate – not uncommon in this sort of title – but a little lower than the normal breast groping, shall we say. That did surprise me, and from what I understand is a harbinger of things to come.

To Love Ru’s elements are all there, and I can see why it ran so long, despite various real life difficulties (which I won’t get into now). But I dunno, even with the added sexy content, it still feels very vanilla and a bit dull. Of course, technically this is a ‘classic’ title given it’s over 10 years old by now, so it’s not meant to be cutting edge. Still, I prefer my alien princesses angry and throwing electricity.

The Promised Neverland, Vol 1

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The Promised Neverland by Kaiu Shirai and Posuka Demizu

This series is one of more intriguing debuts that I’ve read from the Shonen Jump line in a long time. It is also a very difficult series to write about due to a pretty dramatic plot twist that happens around 40 pages into the manga, but I’m going to be deliberately vague and avoid spoilers.
The series opens with a semi-idyllic portrayal of life in an orphanage in what looks like a non-specific European country. Emma, Norman, and Ray are some of the oldest orphans, and each is gifted with some special talents. Emma is a tremendous athlete, Norman is incredibly smart, and Ray is a strategic thinker who is constantly honing his powers of observation. The orphans are cared for by a woman named Mom, who they all love as the only adult in their lives. As the first few pages unfold, small details in the art start to unsettle the reader. Why do all the orphans have numeric sequences tattooed on their necks? Why do they all have to dress in white? Why are they subjected to what looks like insanely detailed IQ tests in the morning, and then given the freedom to roam around the woods that surround the orphanage in the afternoon?

The orphans make a discovery that causes them to question the environment that they’ve been raised in, and their unique personalities and perspectives cause them to band together to start to assess their situation and develop a plan of action. While Emma is smart, one of the greatest things she brings to the team is moral clarity and a sense of urgency. The two boys are more cerebral, with Norman being more book smart, and Ray serving as a mastermind who is initially focused most on what is practical to accomplish. This volume focuses mainly on the orphans testing their assumptions and working together to figure out how The Promised Neverland doesn’t really live up to the fairy-tale aspects of the title. The art in the series features faces that are a but smushy, but very expressive of emotion. Emma’s hairstyle looks like a reference to Duck in Princess Tutu, so I found that amusing. The Promised Neverland is incredibly dark, but seeing how resourceful the orphans are brings an element of hope into play for the reader. The first volume of the series easily draws the reader into the sinister world the orphans are resisting. Extremely entertaining, and I’m already impatient for the next volume.

Incaders of the Rokujouma!?, Vol. 8

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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.

Just as Volume 7 had a focus on Theia’s evil counterpart while also starting to make plans to soften her up and add her to the harem, so this 8th volume does the same for Yurika, with Maki’s determination to destroy Koutarou undone by his basic goodness and niceness. The book is well-written enough that I’m all right with the repetition, but I do hope that we aren’t adding too many more girls to the pile. This isn’t Little Apocalypse. Of course, one could argue that Yurika isn’t really a member of the harem group yet either, as she still hasn’t quite had the “oh, I’m in love with him” moment that several of the others have. As for Maki, she’s spent her entire life being unable to trust anyone and constantly betrayed, so it’s no wonder that she’s going to fall for a guy who doesn’t actually do that. Whether that sticks, we shall have to see.

I found the first half of the book stronger than the second, mostly due to its focus on Yurika. She is absolutely the butt monkey of this series, and as a normal girl may be almost too whining and pathetic to bear. We see, over and over again, how she fails at some of the most basic things. And yet give her a chance to actually do her magical girl job and she becomes amazing. I’d suggest that it’s like Sailor Moon, but Usagi was never this competent when powered up. She gains a second staff from Koutarou’s trip to the past (we haven’t gotten Vol. 8.5 yet, but it’s hinted it’s from Yurika’s past counterpart) which is essentially a spell wikipedia, and combining it with her own magic staff she’s suddenly far more dangerous, much to Maki’s surprise. Of course, Koutarou gives her the staff saying “look, now you can do REAL magic”, which hurts, but you can’t have everything.

After a badass fight showing Yurika at her best, alas, she has to be frozen in ice for the second half so that Koutarou can bond with Maki as they battle a sort of demonic Abominable Snowman. Koutarou is in many ways your typical harem protagonist, but he lacks many of the traits that set many fans’ teeth on edge – there is little to no falling into boobs or walking in on girls changing, he doesn’t realize that the girls like him but not in a “you lost me” Shirou Emiya sort of way. And he’s a good strategist, but needs a hand when it comes to the physical stuff most of the time, which is why Theia’s powered armor is so useful. Basically, while you know he’s going to get all the girls as the’s the protagonist of a harem series, there’s no real sense he hasn’t earned it. I do sometimes wish he’d be a bit more quirky, as he can fall into the generic trap, but for the most part I just like him.

So we’ve resolved the dark magical girls for now, though I’ve no doubt that plot will return. Next time we go back in time with Vol. 8.5 and finish Koutarou and Clan’s Excellent Adventure. Till then, a very good Rokujouma for fans of the series, and an excellent one for Yurika fans.

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 9

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By Mizuho Kusanagi. Released in Japan as “Akatsuki no Yona” by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by JN Productions, Adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane.

First of all, let’s just stand back in awe at the fact that our heroes are now named “The Dark Dragon and the Happy Hungry Bunch”, something that is both hilarious and awesome. The name is indicative of their status as semi-secret bandits, but also the sheer improvised nature of this whole enterprise – after gathering the Dragons, we’re now regrouping and seeing how best to let Yona figure out what to do next. “Help people” is the obvious choice, but help people how? Well, turns out there’s injustice right in front of them, what with the fire tribe officials shaking down the poor villages for money and taking children as collateral when they can’t pay up. Thus it is time to kick ass, take names, and pose dramatically. Unfortunately, when you’re the village saviors, you’d better be aware that there can be a cost to your actions.

I’ll admit I was not expecting that kid who confronted the bandits – you know, the other bandits who aren’t so happy – to be killed off, but it’s a good lesson narratively. The Happy Hungry Bunch can try to save the villages they come across, but there will always be places they can’t be, and villagers they can’t save. If they’re going to bring about a revolution, rather than just be Robin Hoods, a different strategy is needed. We also get a return to Sinha’s issues, with his medusa-like eyes that brand him as a monster, going back to his childhood. Yona’s faith in him pulls him back from the brink, but it’s a chilling sequence that reminds you how powerful all of these guys are. Something which Yona is also understanding, as she asks Hak to teach her swordfighting in addition to archery so she can be more well-rounded. Yona the princess has become Yona the terrorist, with all that this entails.

Despite the drama, the humor in this volume is not limited to the Happy Hungry Bunch. Tae-Jun returns, still devastated by the fact that he “killed” Yona back at the start of the manga, and the humor is that he’s basically become a broken shell of a man who is damn-near suicidal, which would be uncomfortable if the tone weren’t so light. I’m not sure of Kusanagi plans to do a more dramatic plot with him next volume, but for the moment I’m perfectly happy with him being comic relief, as the chapters with him moping around like a sad puppy are hysterical. I suspect finding that Yona is alive will fill him with a new burning desire, but sadly he’s about #15 in the ‘Yona love interest’ sweepstakes, so I suspect more comic relief may be in the offing instead.

Yona of the Dawn is content to move slowly at this point, building its characters and increasing the tension that something needs to be done. Yona’s now resolved to get even stronger, but toward what end? Will we get a few more volumes of wandering through random villages? Possibly, but I still plan on enjoying them. Yona is always a treat to read.

How NOT to Summon a Demon Lord, Vol. 1

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By Yukiya Murasaki and Takahiro Tsurusaki. Released in Japan as “Isekai Maou to Shoukan Shoujo Dorei Majutsu” by Kodansha. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Garrison Denim.

Occasionally I get asked by people why I sometimes clearly read things that are not remotely in my genre or that I think I will dislike. The answer is that sometimes I’m wrong and I turn out to enjoy it quite a bit. Of course, sometimes I’m right and I can’t even manage to finish the volume. And then there are titles like this one, where I finished the title with a sense of “well, that had some really annoying bits but wasn’t quite as bad as it could have been”. I will note right off the bat that if you are the sort of reader who enjoys these sorts of stories – isekai with an overpowered hero, slave girls who have to obey him, one large and one small breasted girl to start, lots of fanservice and the occasional cool battle – this is a very good title to get. The writing is competent, as you’d expect with a Kodansha novel. Its market is young horny men, and it delivers.

Well, delivers to a degree. The light novel market has not gotten to the point where we’re getting explicit light novels, and so as expected our hero is surrounded by attractive girls who are falling for him but nothing happens. This is fairly realistic, given that our hero is a gamer who was transported to another world but still has zero social skills or ability to talk to women. The way he gets around this is by pretending to be the game character he played online, Diablo, who is the titular demon lord. This works well when facing down evil minions or town guards, but less so when he’s got a handful of boob, at which point his brain simply turns off. He’s summoned, somehow, though there’s a question as to who actually did it. Rem is the tsundere catgirl who’s a skilled mage with a terrible secret. Shera is the airheaded elfgirl who has a hidden past and a desire to use summoning magic. And, due to the botched summoning and the nature of “Diablo” as a character, they are also now his slaves.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I dislike the fantasy world style slavery in these sorts of isekai, particularly when it seems to be used as an excuse to get the hero a harem who can’t reject him. Diablo (his real name comes up occasionally, but for all intents and purposes he goes by his game title here) is not abusing it beyond the occasional grope, and doesn’t really order them to do anything awful, but again, the idea is “well, slavery exists here, so let’s accept it”, rather than the push back against it that I’ve enjoyed in some other novels. It’s also another book that leans heavily on the technical side to a degree, as the fantasy world is sort of like Diablo’s old game but not quite, and being an actual Demon Lord here rather than a computer creation, he has to figure out things like how much MP he can drain before it affects him. This can be interesting, but can also drag, depending how much of a gamer you are.

This isn’t terrible – the two female leads are actually amusing in a bratty rivals sort of way, and their backstories promise some interesting plots down the road. Diablo’s schtick may remind fans of Overlord, but there’s far less of a sense that we’re actually going to see a villain in the making the way that Overlrod gives us. I was also reminded of Death March, but that seems like damning with faint praise. I’m definitely picking the novel over the manga, which apparently doubles the fanservice and has Diablo being far more perverse – that’s out in 2018 from Seven Seas. In the end, another in a long line of “only if you like isekai”.

ACCA: 13-Territory Inspection Department, Vol. 1

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By Natsume Ono. Released in Japan as “ACCA – 13-ku Kansatsuka” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Big Gangan. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Jocelyne Allen.

It’s rare that I read a Japanese manga translated into English and think to myself “I think I’d have liked this even better in the original French.” But that’s the sort of mood that ACCA gives off. It’s not something that I’m unused to with the works of Natsume Ono, whose art seems designed to constantly be showing people descending into hole in the wall cafes and small, dingy apartments. But even when the canvas opens up – much of the action in this book takes place in large rooms and wide streets – it feels like I’m reading a manga directed by François Truffaut. The plot of this story is fairly standard – various shady goings-on are happening but are for the most part dealt with by our hero, who seems unassuming but is Very Clever Indeed. But honestly, I don’t read Ono’s stories for the plot, I read them for the evocative mood that she sets. With ACCA, she has another big success.

No, that’s not Sanji on the cover, though he is blond and does smoke throughout the volume – indeed, smoking is why he’s famous, in a country where cigarettes are a luxury item. Jean is instead near the top of a group of inspectors whose job it is to inspect other inspectors. The first chapter sets out precisely what he does and his attention to small details, while also dealing with a plot to close down the agency (I wonder if it was devised as a one-shot?). He and a subordinate (who is seen depressed at the end of the chapter, possible as she realizes she’s not in the rest of the book) root out small-time corruption, then he quickly wraps up and returns to not-Paris, where his department survives to audit another day. For now – he’s also beset by jealous regular police officers, mysterious higher-ups with plans and schemes, and his sister, who wants him to just help her run the expensive apartment building they’re in charge of.

As I said before, the plot is mostly irrelevant. There was an anime of this about a year ago, and I’d be interested to see how the dialogue was handled – much of it cries out to be murmured rather than spoken, perhaps with one of the deadpan smirks that Jean occasionally gives us. I also enjoy it when I notice the scenery as much as I do the plot and characters – Dowa, somewhat ridiculously, is a country shaped like a bird, and is filled with fantastic bakeries and high-ceilinged government buildings for Jean and some of the other characters (particularly his female counterpart, Mauve) to sweep out of dramatically. Well, Mauve sweeps dramatically. Jean sort of shuffles like a French Columbo – sorry, like a Dowan Columbo.

There are hints of an expansion on the plot and a possible betrayal in the cliffhanger for this volume. That said, I still say this is the sort of volume you read while sitting out on the 4th-floor balcony of your city apartment, sipping bitter coffee and eating a croissant from the bakery down the road. I’m happy I picked it up.

I Saved Too Many Girls and Caused the Apocalypse, Vol. 6

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By Namekojirushi and Nao Watanuki. Released in Japan as “Ore ga Heroine o Tasukesugite Sekai ga Little Mokushiroku!?” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Adam Lensenmayer.

Despite the occasional attempt to tie things together between sections, this is what we always knew was coming in a series this large: a short story collection. The good thing about this is that everything takes place around Rekka’s school and neighborhood, so we get to relax a bit after the high stakes of the last volume. The bad thing, of course, is that low stakes events sometimes don’t equal high impact. The first story in this volume deals with Lea, the human-looking leviathan from Volume 2, and her attempts to actually hold down a job and earn money so she does not have to rely on “nice young men” buying her meals. Lea’s ‘clueless yet strong’ character is not really top tier among the heroines, and the addition of a terrible gay stereotype (which I was going to give a pass until he took the perverted customer into the back room for punishment – yes, the guy was a lech, but no. don’t do that) did not help matters. Thankfully, things pick up a bit after that.

Only two heroines on the cover and added to the pile (that’s a total of 15 now, if you’re counting), but both of them are solid additions. Little Apocalypse sometimes tends to forget it’s meant to be a parody, but it’s a bit better on that front this time around – Rekka has never been more clueless about the fact that all these girls are in love with him. Given that, if you’re going to add memorable new heroines you need to make them ‘types’ so they stand out. Thus we have the teasing, large-breasted literature club girl, Midori, who is thought to be a ghost but in reality is simply quiet and weird – except around Rekka, whom she loves to hug from behind because, well, did I mention the large breasts? Despite the stereotype, she’s a lot of fun – it makes you realize we never really had a ‘tease’ among the heroines till now, and it gives a nice dynamic. The other heroine is Momone, who is not only Student Council President but also a Shrine Maiden and Demon Hunter. Honestly, you could fit three heroines in that description, but she does it all herself. Her blunt forcefulness is also something new added to the heroine lineup.

Neither one of these girls needs saving by Rekka, as R notes – they aren’t “traditional” heroines the way the rest of the group has been, they’re more like Hibiki (who gets a short story at the end dealing with a vengeful ghost, which reads like an episode of Urusei Yatsura so much that I’m going to check my DVDs to see if they actually did that one). That said, it’s fairly clear by the end of the book that they both like Rekka just as much as the rest of them. The final story here is R reporting to her superiors on her progress, which is pretty much near zero. It does have R serving to remind us that this is technically HER story – the story of how she’s stopping the Apocalypse by going back in time and helping Rekka. Which so far seems to involve dragging him around then house as he sleeps so that she can watch TV late at night.

So overall a decent addition to the series, and these books are always so short that they’re a light, snack-like read as you wait for the next Arifuerta or something similar to come down the pike.