Manga Bookshelf

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Reviews

Durarara!!, Vol. 8

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By Ryohgo Narita and Suzuhito Yasuda. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Stephen Paul.

At the start of the Baccano! anime, Carol is sorting through the various events and people that she and her boss are reporting on, and is asked who she thinks “the main character” is. She responds by picking Firo, saying he looks “Main character-ish”. The -ish being intentional. And so it is with Durarara!!, a series that may be beloved by its fandom for the hot sexual tension between Izaya and Shizuo (something pretty much absent from the actual novels), and whose ‘iconic’ character is probably Celty. That said, if I was to say who I thought the ‘main characters’ of the series were, it would be the trio of Mikado, Anri and Masaomi and their tortured relationship with each other. They’ve been separated for several books now, and give every appearance of reuniting in this book. But, while I think they’re being idiots in avoiding it, I do agree now is not the time, if only as I want to see more of the author making Mikado a semi-villain.

The Dollars have been Mikado’s pride and obsession with Book 1, and here we see him take the philosophy of “By Any Means Necessary” to heart, using the Blue Squares to viciously purge from the ranks of the “gang” any muggers or other lowlifes. Theoretically, he’s being manipulated by Aoba, but honestly, Aoba just seems to be sitting back and staring at Mikado more than anything else, as the boy is clearly descending into a sort of madness. Anri is worried sick, but unfortunately Celty regards Mikado’s secrets as more important and decides not to tell her what’s going on. (Celty is probably correct, to be fair.) Speaking of Anri, it was amazing to me to see the short scenes from Mika’s perspective this volume, especially following after the insanity-fest from last time. Here she shows genuine concern and worry for Anri, and it’s pointed out that Seiji is not everything to her, but merely the highest thing on her list. It almost feels like seeing canon change mid-page.

There are other things going on here, of course. Ruri Hirijibe returns, with her new boyfriend (Shizuo’s brother) trying to save her from a psychotic stalker. We see the stalker’s POV several times, and it once again reminds you how good Narita is at writing the truly cruel and hateful person. As for Ruri herself, it was interesting to me to see how much the book avoided using the word “vampire” unless it absolutely had to, and it’s still not clear how much of one Ruri is – though her grandmother seems to qualify. (An unlicensed Narita series, Vamp!, may be useful here, though as yet we can only speculate). And the message board explodes with new characters, as everyone seems to invite some new person to join in. So we see Saki (using her own name), Kid (Akabayashi, whose use of (lol) may be the funniest part of the book), and Chrome, whose identity is unsurprising but gives us a wonderful callback to previous books as we start the Hot Pot Party Of Evil!.

And then there’s Masaomi, who I left out of my talk earlier, who ran away from his problems 5 books ago and has returned to find they’ve gotten much worse. Can he really do anything to make amends and help his friends? In the meantime, this is another ‘setup for future books’ volume, meaning it’s low on action but still worth a read.

One Piece, Vol. 84

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By Eiichiro Oda. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Weekly Shonen Jump. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by Stephen Paul.

I’ve talked before about the pacing of One Piece vs. many of the other Jump titles we’ve seen over the years. One Piece packs so much into each chapter it’s as if these 84 volumes have really been 168. Bleach, on the other hand, could probably come in under 50 if you sped things up to a normal scale. It’s also one reason why I feel the need to give each new volume a full review rather than a Bookshelf Brief. Even when a volume is mostly a bunch of fights, even when it’s mired in an arc I thought went on too long like Dressrora, even when Oda is doing things I’m not a fan of… it’s still one of the best shonen manga out there, and there’s still a lot to talk about. Let’s start with Sanji, as this is in many ways his arc.

I’ve possibly mentioned before that while I love all the Straw Hats, I love Sanji perhaps the least most. This has always made me feel a bit guilty, and therefore I am pleased as punch that we get this volume, showing off his best qualities, revealing more of his horrific childhood, and keeping his bonkers libido in check, even when he’s around a hot girl who’s ready to be his wife. It’s never easy being the unfavorite son, and of all the family it’s no surprise that I’m most interested in Reiju, who actually has empathy but goes along with her family’s wishes anyway. She seems the sort who will either change her loyalties later on or get killed. It’s also interesting to see the Vinsmokes appear to be genetically engineered superhumans, and that Sanji, who has merely normal abilities (for One Piece), is seen as a failure. (I was less pleased with Sanji’s brief “don’t hit women” flashback, which seemed tacked on – I suspect too many fans wanted to know why.)

Sanji is also determined to make sure the rest of the Straw Hats aren’t wiped out by Big Mom, enough to break things off with Luffy. He should know better than anyone that this won’t work, and all it gets him is Nami belting him across the chops. That said, in more important revelations, we see Luffy so full it’s hard for him to eat, something I didn’t think possible, and it actually takes his rubber body a while to slim back down. I’d assumed that he and Nami might have an in to the wedding due to Lola’s vivre card – sadly, a) Lola is persona non grata with Big Mom right now, and b) everyone thinks Nami killed Lola to get it, which is what they would have done. So they end up captured, though that doesn’t last long – I do wonder what’s going on with Charlotte Pudding, who seems far too good to be true.

And there’s also Chopper and Carrot’s mirror adventures, which are mostly comedy, and the revelations about Pedro. As I said, there’s just a LOT going on in each volume of One Piece, and most of them also make you want to go back and check previous volumes to find the hints Oda put in them eight years prior. Even after all these years, this should still be on everyone’s reading list.

Invaders of the Rokujouma!?, Vol. 7.5: The Silver Princess and the Blue Knight, Part One

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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.

The first of a two-part side story devoted to Koutarou and Clan’s adventures during the climax of Book Seven, Rokujouma 7.5 is solid but does suffer from the fact that throughout the book, the reader knows far more about what’s going on than the main characters. From the moment that Koutarou, dressed in his Blue Knight armor, rescued the princess it was clear that he was going to be making history rather than changing it, adnd that he was the Blue Knight. But Clan doesn’t see it that way (understandably, perhaps, as this is such a touchstone) and they spend a frustrating amount of time searching for the “real” Blue Knight. Of course, another major goal of this book is to get us to like Clan, who I suspect may end up part of the harem; she’s still not as likeable as the rest of the cast, but she’s getting there.

There’s a bit less humor in this volume than prior ones, mostly due to the main plotline, but there are moments that made me smile. The princess’ female companions on her journey all seem to remind Koutarou of his companions from the future… and they tend to act like said companions as well, with Charl, Alaia’s younger sister, behaving exactly as you’d expect a younger Theia to do. As for the Yurika analogue… I don’t want to spoil, but it may be the best joke in the book (unless it’s the food torture, which also involves the Yurika analogue). Koutarou and Clan discuss how much of this is just coincidence. The Rokujouma reader knows that not all of it is, and that Harumi certainly seems to be Alaia’s reincarnation, but it’s not clear how much this applies to the others.

The main plot is more serious, with the Kingdom already being ruled by the enemy Grand Viziers (so to speak) and Alaia fleeing for her life through the countryside. This serves to show off what a good Princess she is, as well as show the brutality of those currently in power – she actually debates just giving in and letting them rule if it means the people are safe and happy, but it rapidly becomes clear that no, the people are sacrifices they will use to destroy Alaia. And of course you see Koutarou and Alaia growing closer, but as the play says (Koutarou is trying to do things as the play laid out, but it didn’t cover everything). Their flirting is top notch, and while time and distance are likely going to ensure they can’t be together, I suspect Harumi will get more and more of Alaia’s memories as time goes on.

So this isn’t the best Rokujouma out there, but it’s decent, and reads very quickly. Fans who haven’t already read all 20-odd volumes should pick it up. Next time we’ll be back in the present for Book 8, but after that 8.5 should conclude this side story.

Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga

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Part manifesto, part how-to manual, Hirohiko Araki’s Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga is as idiosyncratic as the series that made him a household name in Japan. Araki characterizes his book as both a map, guiding the aspiring artist along the “golden way” of manga, and a tool kit for developing one’s storytelling chops. “If you were to go hiking on an unfamiliar mountain, you’d bring a map, right?” he states. “If you also have with you a foundation of mountaineering skill, you could wander onto side paths and discover unexpected scenery, and if you were to come across any dangers, you could find your way around them and still reach the summit” (12-13).

Araki’s own map to the summit was Hitchcock/Truffaut. First published in 1967, the book traced Hitchcock’s journey from title boy at Paramount’s Famous Players to director of Rear Window, analyzed Hitchcock’s signature techniques, and considered Hitchcock’s contributions to the development of film. It’s not hard to imagine why Truffaut and Hitchcock’s words beguiled Araki; they provided Araki practical tips for creating memorable characters and surprising plot twists while reassuring him that a popular medium like film or comics could, in fact, be a high art form.

That fancy pedigree helps explain what differentiates Manga in Theory and Practice from hundreds of other books aimed at the manga novice. Instead of tutorials on choosing pen nibs or drawing “manga” eyes, Araki offers a chatty, first-person treatise on writing a hit series, explaining the techniques he uses to sustain to a long-form story with examples from his favorite movies, manga, and novels. Araki also uses his own manga to illustrate how his ideas work in practice, narrating scenes from JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Poker Under Arms, and Cool Shock B.T. By choosing material from every stage of his career, he allows the reader to appreciate just how much his own style has evolved through years of study, practice, and editorial critique — a valuable example for any aspiring manga artist.

The book’s core chapters — “Designing Characters,” “How to Write a Story,” “Art Expresses Everything,” “What Setting Is to Manga,” and “All Elements Connect to the Theme” — outline Araki’s process for creating characters and settings, offering sound advice about which genres are best suited to serialization. Though Araki’s techniques are highly individual, the thoroughness with which he approaches world building is a useful model for less experienced writers. Araki even includes a detailed chart for capturing “sixty facts for fleshing out your characters,” from the obvious — age, gender, size — to the mundane — handedness, favorite brands.

Another recurring theme of Manga in Theory and Practice is that art is a means to an end, not an end in itself. “What your readers will see is the artwork,” Araki observes, “but behind those drawings exist the interconnected elements of character, story, setting, and theme” (41). To illustrate this point, Araki devotes several pages to explaining the difference between signification and realism, suggesting when one technique is more effective than the other. Using Jiro Taniguchi’s Solitary Gourmet (Kodoku no Gourmet) as an example, Araki notes that the hero “is drawn as an everyday salaryman, but the food is drawn with complete realism.” By drawing Goro in less detail than the food, Araki argues, Taniguchi directs the reader’s eye to the presentation, texture, and ingredients of every dish, rather than Goro’s reaction to the meal — a subtle but effective way to highlight the uniqueness of each restaurant Goro visits (45).

Araki returns to this idea later in the book, noting that the artist’s credibility lies, in part, with his ability to convince the reader that the story is taking place in a real world where characters walk, drive, text, cook, shop, and go to school. Under the provocative heading “How to Draw Guns,” Araki explains that hands-on experience with “machinery and tools” is essential to creating a realistic setting. “If you are drawing a motorcycle or bicycle, and you don’t understand how the wheels are attached or where the handlebars are placed, the result will be unsuitable for riding upon, and your setting will become incoherent,” he notes (131-32).

As pragmatic as Araki’s advice is, the book sometimes sags under the weight of Araki’s pedantic tone; it’s a little like reading a how-to book written by Polonius or your pompous Uncle Frank. In a section titled “The Difference Between Drawing Men and Women,” for example, Araki counsels the aspiring manga-ka that “nowadays, both men and women can become heroes.” And if that advice seems self-evident, what follows is even less useful. “If anything sets apart male and female characters, it’s only visual,” he elaborates. The decision to include female characters “is purely a matter of your own taste,” he continues, “as long as your characters are appealing, you could get away with a world of all men” (58-59). Small wonder so many male comic artists have no idea how to write female characters.

More amusing is a passage in which Araki castigates Francis Ford Coppola for extending the storyline of The Godfather beyond Michael Corleone’s promotion to family don. As Araki sees it, the plot developments that follow Michael’s ascent — Fredo’s betrayal, his divorce from Kay — violate Araki’s dictum that “protagonists are always rising.” “In the sequels,” Araki opines, “Michael is beset by troubles and family betrayals in a series of realistic scenes that are brilliantly rendered, but from the point of view of the audience, are unwanted and depressing” (100). Araki does praise Coppola’s commitment to this dreary vision of mob life, but it’s hard to escape the idea that Araki is dissing Coppola for the The Godfather II‘s downbeat ending.

And while I’m tickled by Araki’s assessment of The Godfather II, these odd digressions are part of Manga in Theory and Practice‘s charm. It’s one of the few how-to manuals that seems to have been written by a flesh-and-blood person working in the industry, rather than a manga illustration bot. More importantly, Manga in Theory and Practice is a valuable reference work, filling a niche that most manga manuals ignore: how to unify images and words into a dynamic story. Recommended.

VIZ Media provided a review copy.

Works Cited

Araki, Hirohito. Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga, translated by Nathan A. Collins, VIZ Media, 2017.

Clockwork Planet, Vol. 2

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By Yuu Kamiya, Tsubaki Himana, and Sino. Released in Japan by Kodansha. Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by fofi.

The first volume of Clockwork Planet felt very faithful to its genre. We’re introduced to the weirdo hero, identifiable to the core readers mostly due to his robot fetish, and much of the book is through his eyes. As such, Marie seemed to be the typical shonen heroine – romance aside, she was constantly yelling and hitting the hero while also secretly being impressed by him, which is the standard operating procedure for this type of heroine. So I was rather surprised in this second volume to see Marie get the bulk of the audience sympathy and POV. It doesn’t exactly shift to her – she did get a lot of attention in the first book as well. It’s just Naoto seems to be moving further away from us as the series goes on. This is lampshaded towards the end of the book, when it’s hinted he’s actually a reincarnation of something much bigger. Even his perversion seems more… messianic.

The plot of Book 2 is pretty much ‘deal with the fallout from Book 1’, as our heroes travel to the next clockwork town over only to find it disturbingly empty save for a horrible monster death machine deep in the basement. They also see AnchoR, who is the younger sister robot girl to our vicious robot heroine RyuZU, and is unfortunately being brainwashed at the moment, so that will have to be dealt with. (Actually, it’s dealt with pretty quickly and easily – for once, this sort of light novel sequence does buildup better than fight scenes.) Along the way we see how much of this is just the government trying to keep itself in power (a lot). I actually like how this is handled, with Marie being the one unable to immediately figure out everything right away. This is not because she’s stupid (as RyuZU implies) or oblivious to anything but robots (as Naoto is), it’s because she is a big shining ball of idealism who tries to pass herself off as a complete cynic, and has trouble imagining people being truly evil.

This is still written by Yuu Kamiya, author of No Game No Life, and as such you’re going to get a lot of tasteless service here as well. Mostly this is pointless or annoying (AnchoR seems to be a “little sister lolicon” robot purely for those reasons), but occasionally he hits a home run, such as the content of the secret “coded” message for Marie, which was so appallingly explicit I laughed out loud. I’m not certain what the original Japanese was, but you won’t see language like that in Sword Art Online, even if you did paste Chapter 16.5 into your book. And aside from Naoto, who remains mostly static because he’s becoming messianic, there was good character development here. It’s also impressive that I like Marie so much given how much of the book shows her yelling, screaming, or kicking people in the head. There are many times I wanted to do the same thing to everyone she was dealing with.

Clockwork Planet is not terrific, but I do have a lot of fun reading it, particularly Marie. It will be interesting to see if the series, like Marie, can keep going without looking the idealism that it seems to have. Honestly, judging from the cliffhanger, things aren’t looking good.

SP Baby, Vol. 1

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SP Baby Volume 1 by Maki Enjoji

I’m a pretty big fan of Enjoji’s series Happy Marriage so I was excited when it was announced that Shojo Beat would be bringing out another series of hers. While Happy Marriage has an undercurrent of tension (spoiler alert! no one is getting married yet), the first volume of SP Baby is more of a comedic workplace romance.

Tamaki Hasegawa is struggling to find a full-time job. She needs to better support both herself and her little brother who is about to enter college. She has an ordinary life where one of the highlights is her helpless pining for her long-time friend Natsu who works in a flower shop. One day she sees one man chasing another on the street and jumps in to help by attempting a kick to the head of the threatening man. He promptly catches her ankle, leaving her at a loss on what to do next. After it becomes clear that the two men in question know each other, Tamaki apologizes for interrupting a lover’s quarrel and runs away. Her adventures are not over because the next day she’s shoved into a car carrying Kagetora Sugou, the man who she attempted to defend. He gives her a suit with a short skirt and announces that he’s going to interview her for the full-time job of being his bodyguard.

Kagetora is a nice contrast from Ryu in Everyone’s Getting Married. Kagetora is of course rich, but there’s an odd open-hearted innocence in his mannerisms and actions, like when he gives the people he works with nicknames that are usually reserved for cats. He alludes to having met Tamaki in the past, which is something that she has no memory of. Tamaki embarks on her new job, which necessitates dealing with some intense training in martial arts as well as finally getting her driver’s license. While it is obvious that her new boss is romantically interested in her, Tamaki keeps reminding herself of her so far one-sided affection for Natsu.

Enjoji’s art is always solid, and she easily captures the extreme emotions that Tamaki deals with as she ends up on an impromptu date with Kagetora or gives in to her lighting-fast violent reflexes. By the end of SP Baby, I was rooting for this very odd couple and wanting to see more of this story unfold. February is a long time to wait for the next volume! I recommend this title if you enjoy josei comedies with heroines who have a tendency to kick people in the head.

Sword Art Online Alternative: Gun Gale Online, Vol. 1

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By Keiichi Sigsawa, Kouhaku Kuroboshi, and Tadadi Tamori, based on the series created by Reki Kawahara. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks, serialized in the magazine Dengeki Maoh. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Stephen Paul.

The Sword Art Onlione franchise has done a lot of worldbuilding over the course of the series, detailing no less than four different games/VR environments. Some are more popular than others, but I think Gun Gale Online struck a cord with a lot of gamers, as usually these sorts of novels concentrate on sword-based fantasy RPGs – as indeed Sword Art Online did for its first four volumes. So the idea of combining that sort of immersion with a game filled with all sorts of guns, rifles, and lightsaber–sorry, beam swords was incredibly appealing. As for the publisher, I imagine having a spinoff series that did not have to be overseen by Kawahara as much as the others was a plus – the number of regular SAO cast in this first volume is zero. So if you want to read about Gun Gale Online but hate Kirito, have I got a series for you.

This manga is, like a lot of Sword Art Online, based off of a novel. Unfortunately, the novel has not been licensed here as of yet. It’s by Keiichi Sigsawa, who some may know as the creator of Kino’s Journey. Our heroine is Karen, an incredibly tall girl who went to a women’s college to try to change her self-conscious self, but found when she got there that most of the other students already knew each other, and she’s still huge, so she’s mostly a social outcast again. She decides to try to forget about it by playing a VRMMO… but every one she tries gives her another tall avatar. As a last resort, she tries Gun Gale Online, and finds that – finally – she’s short and cute. Now she and her pink gun (OK, Bambi) can have as much tiny fun as they want! (I am reminded of Log Horizon, where Akatsuki originally played as a huge male assassin because “games allow you to be something you’re not”.

We see Llenn (her screen name) gradually getting used to the game with the help of another player, Pitohui, who is the very definition of “obviously evil”, not that this seems to register with Llenn. As she gets a gun and starts to go after other players, she begins to have a lot of fun – botjh because her small form is very good at this sort of thing and also because, well, it’s a game, and in a game, killing others can be fun. That said, this is SAO, so we know those sorts of feelings are always dangerous, especially when helped along by Pitohui, who seems to be trying to make Llenn into a tiny little killing machine. (There is a very disturbing scene in reality midway through the book, showing a young woman (I really hope it’s a young woman, she looks far too young) on top of a guy, sexing him up while also threatening him regarding the upcoming GGO match. It’s heavily suggested this is Pitohui in real life, and does not bode well for our heroine. It also feels oddly out of place.)

The rest of the book is gun battle fun, as Llenn gets a partner who seems taciturn and scary at first but eventually shows he’s a nice enough guy. Are they good enough to win a tournament even though there’s only two of them? Even if their opponents look to literally be JSDF? What is Pitohui scheming? And can we really get through an SAO spinoff without Kirito showing up at all? Find out in the next thrilling volume!

Astra Lost in Space, Vol. 1

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While the US manga market has plenty to offer teen readers, there’s a dearth of titles for kids who have aged out of Yokai Watch but aren’t quite ready for Bleach or Soul Eater. Astra Lost in Space, a new addition to the VIZ catalog, is a perfect transitional title for ten, eleven, and twelve-year-olds who want to read “real” manga: its slick illustrations and adventure-driven plot feel just edgy enough for this group, while the content falls safely within the boundaries of what’s appropriate for the middle school crowd.

The plot of Astra Lost in Space may remind older fans of Moto Hagio’s sci-fi classic “They Were Eleven”: nine high school students find themselves stranded aboard a spaceship whose communication system has been disabled. With only a few days’ supply of water and food on board, the group is forced to improvise a plan for making the five-month journey home. Their solution: hopscotching between planets — let’s call them “Class M” for the sake of convenience — where an abundant supply of water, plants, and animals await harvesting.

As you might guess, the planet-of-the-week formula provides artist Kenta Shinohara (Sket Dance) ample opportunity to draw menacing fauna and flora, and stage imaginative action sequences. In the volume’s best scene, for example, team captain Kanata Hoshijima leap-frogs across a field of sky-high lily pads to rescue the group’s youngest member from a flying, six-legged monster. Shinohara lavishes more attention to detail on Kanata’s long jump technique than on the turgon itself, breaking down each of Kanata’s jumps into discrete steps recognizable to any track-and-field fan: the approach, the takeoff, the hang, and the landing. In a further nod to realism, Shinohara shows us the physical toll that each jump exacts from Kanata; we can practically hear Kanata’s heaving breaths as he readies himself for the next one, an effective gambit for casting doubt on Kanata’s ability to reach Funicia.

For all the skill with which this rescue is staged, Shinohara can’t disguise the fact his characters feel like they’re the products of a Shonen Jump reader’s poll, rather than original creations. Kanata, for example, is a walking, talking checklist of shonen hero traits: he’s strong, friendly, over-confident, and burdened with a tragic backstory that gives him the will to persevere in any situation, no matter how dire. He also happens to be a decathlete, a fact that’s revealed as he rescues Funicia from the turgon’s grip. (At least that explains his javelin-throwing skills.) The other characters are less developed than Kanata, but will seem familiar to anyone who’s read three or four Shonen Jump titles: there’s Quittierre, a pretty rich girl whose tantrums conceal a good heart; Aries, a cute spaz who makes Edith Bunker look like a genius; Zack, a calm, smart boy who speaks in complete paragraphs; Charce, a boy who’s so handsome he sparkles; and a handful of less-defined characters who — according to the Third Law of Manga Plot Dynamics — will either be monster fodder or directly responsible for their classmates’ terrible predicament.

Manga novitiates, however, will be less troubled by these nods to convention, thanks to the story’s brisk pacing, smart-looking layouts, and game attempts at humor. Though there’s a mild bit of fanservice and “fantasy violence” (VIZ’s term, not mine), parents, teachers, and librarians should feel comfortable allowing middle school students to read Astra.

N.B. The first 45 chapters are currently available through the VIZ website for anyone wishing to screen the story for younger readers. Volume one of Astra is also available in a Kindle edition, and will be available in a print edition that’s slated for a December 5th release.

ASTRA LOST IN SPACE, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY KENTO SHINOHARA • TRANSLATED BY ADRIENNE BECK • VIZ • 204 pp. • RATED T for TEEN

Paying to Win in a VRMMO, Vol. 5

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By Blitz Kiva and Kuwashima Rein. Released in Japan as “VRMMO wo Kane no Chikara de Musou suru” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Elizabeth Ellis.

This is more of an ensemble effort than any of the previous books. Pay2Win has added quite the large cast over the course of the series, and most of them are present and correct trying to take down whoever has stolen Ichiro’s account. (The mystery as to who has done this, by the way, is almost nil – it’s very obvious. That said, the mystery isn’t the point.) Everyone does what they do best – The Kirihitters try to look cool and fail miserably, Amesho gets her fanboys to valiantly sacrifice themselves hoping she’ll look their way, and Iris’ sharp tongue ends up being weaponized, as (to her chagrin) it’s generally agreed that her spiteful words are her defining trait. That said, the bulk of the characterization here goes to Sakurako/Kirschwasser, who is allowed to use “any means necessary” to defeat the fake, and Sera, who’s gender is finally made clear and who shows they are probably the savviest character in the series.

For all that the last Afterword mentioned that the publishers were uncomfortable with giving too much attention to Sakurako (she being explicitly over 25 and therefore “not a heroine”), but she does get quite a bit to do here. That said, most of it is comic relief. I’ve said before how I think Pay2Win works best when it’s funny, and that still applies, as Sakurako’s sudden access to unlimited amounts of money (and approval to use it from her boss) sets her on a slippery slope that ends up almost being a metaphor for addiction. It’s something that’s understandable for almost anyone who’s played a game – even I, casual that I am, know the terror of “just buy 3 hammers for $1.99 to get past that stupid Candy Crush level”. Here, of course, it’s taken up to 11, as you’d expect, and the fallout is hilarious and also painful – you feel sort of bad for her.

Then there’s Sera/King Kirihito, explicitly said to be female here. The afterword has a very interesting reveal, which is that in the webnovel version of VRMMO, Sera was male. I wonder if this too was changed at editorial request, though the author also says an audience vote was part of it. That said, there are a few lines in this book which suggest Sera sees themself as non-binary, and that suits me fine, so let’s go with that. Sera’s brilliancy at games extends to other arenas here, and I raised an eyebrow seeing them keep up with the American technobabble going on despite the fact that Sera speaks Japanese. Sera also understand the ways of the heart a bit better than Asuha does.

There’s only one volume of this series left, and it seems about the right place to end it. We need to see what’s going to happen with the suddenly doomed little startup that NaroFan is part of, and also hopefully resolve Iris’ design issues a bit, though the answer to that may be “sometimes things just don’t work out”. In any case, this continues to be a series that won’t wow anyone, but should make them smile. Also, Ichiro is perhaps at his least irritating in this book!

I Hear the Sunspot

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I Hear the Sunspot by Yuki Fumino

I Hear the Sunspot was a delightful surprise, and not a title that I expected to see One Peace Books license. For those of you who have been wishing for some slice of life character-driven shounen-ai manga, this title will easily fulfill your manga cravings.

I Hear the Sunspot traces the developing friendship between a couple of college students. Kohei, a student with hearing difficulties who keeps himself isolated from his classmates. Taichi is an outspoken semi-slacker who finds it difficult to keep a full-time job. Taichi is also perpetually hungry. After accidentally stumbling on one of Kohei’s hiding spots, Taichi finds himself gifted with Kohei’s lunch after staring at it with hungry eyes. The entire exchange is wordless on Kohei’s part and Taichi checks up on him with other students afterwards, finding out that Kohei needs volunteer note takers in order to support his studies.

One of the things I liked so much about this series was Fumino’s art. She has a great facility with facial expressions, where Taichi’s open, smiling mannerisms contrast with Kohei’s carefully cultivated almost expressionless looks as he is repeatedly confronted by someone who isn’t going to take “No” for an answer in his attempts at friendship. Taichi turns out to be a less than stellar note taker due to his habits of falling asleep or zoning out in class, but Kohei pays him for his efforts by bringing him extraordinarily delicious lunches. Kohei gradually begins to open up more thanks to Taichi’s efforts to include him in regular school activities, and the slice of life school stories mixed with small scenes showing the depth of this new friendship made I Hear the Sunspot a pleasure to read.

One of my favorite moments in the book was when Taichi finds himself in conversation with a girl who asks about Kohei in a really intrusive way, clearly indicating that she is invested in the idea of herself acting benevolent to a person with a disability. Taichi gets angry, and his reaction is just on the edge of being a little too upset, to the point where I started to wonder if he was romantically jealous in addition to wanting to protect his new friend. Character driven moments like this are why I Hear the Sunspot is now one of my favorite manga of the past year. I’m happy to hear that One Peace Books is also picking up at least one of the sequel volumes, and I’m so curious to find out what happens next in this slowly developing romance.

To Your Eternity, Vol. 1

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By Yoshitoki Oima. Released in Japan as “Fumetsu no Anata e” by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Steven LeCroy.

It’s always best when an author knows what they’re good at and continues to give us that product, and it’s even better when they can do so even while changing genres. Oima is best known as the author of A Silent Voice, and so a fantasy starring a shape-changing alien was not the most obvious follow-up, let’s be honest. But of course, what Oima is best at is gut-wrenching emotional scenes and dancing at the edge of tragedy, which we saw over and over again in A Silent Voice (which thankfully most avoided slipping into full-on tragedy), and now we see plenty of that in this new series. As always with a first volume, I’m not suite sure where this is going – the first chapter might have been a prologue and we’re now following the main cast, or it could be that this is more of an anthology series. One thing is clear, though: bring tissues.

I wasn’t actually spoiled on this series, for once, and will try to avoid spoiling any readers of this review, though it’s always hard to be elliptical about this sort of thing. Let’s just say I was entirely prepared for this series to be a heartwarming tale of a boy and his alien-turned-wolf as they march across the frozen wastes to freedom… and no, that’s not what we’re getting. The boy does not appear to have a name, and it’s a good thing that he’s so plucky and optimistic because his life to date has sucked rocks, including being abandoned by the village to look after those who can’t leave it… for some reason or another. His one companion is the wolf… who we see killed at the start of the book, and the shapeshifter takes its form. Fortunately, the shapeshifter is willing to be the boy’s pet wolf and heartwarming moments ensue… at first.

The second half of the book, and the reason I wonder if this is more of an anthology series with recurring characters, deals with a village girl who’s got big dreams of being an adult and raising a family, dreams that may have to be cut short when she’s selected as the sacrifice to the local Shardik-like God. (Honestly, it’s not clear whether the giant bear is really the local god or not, but it’s certainly a really big bear.) Fortunately, the village’s worst archer is there to try to help her. The girl’s tomboy attitude and the archer’s bad shooting are brief moments of amusement in this otherwise very serious volume. Fortunately the sacrifice is interrupted, but it’s not clear where we’re headed after this.

This series is meant to evoke a mood, and that mood is ‘tear-jerking’. If you really want to read something like that, this is absolutely your jam. I’m not sure I’ll be able to read something like this in an ongoing series, but as a first volume it packs a powerful wallop.

Is It Wrong To Try To Pick Up Girls In A Dungeon? On The Side: Sword Oratoria, Vol. 4

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By Fujino Omori and Suzuhito Yasuda. Released in Japan as “Dungeon ni Deai o Motomeru no wa Machigatte Iru Darou ka? Gaiden – Sword Oratoria” by Softbank Creative. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Liv Sommerlot.

I’d mentioned in my last review that the battles are what Omori writes best, and it’s still true. I’ll go even further: if you aren’t enjoying the battle sequences, there’s no real reason for you to read Sword Oratoria. That’s not to say the entire book is wall-to-wall fights – in fact, we don’t start the descent to the 59th floor till the 2nd half of the book. But I have to admit, the plot is being dripped to us in tiny amounts as the author struggles to fit this into the continuity of the main series. And, much as I like Lefiya a lot more than most DanMachi fans, it has to be said: as a jealous pseudo-lesbian, she’s rather irritating. As a female expy of Bell, she works far better, and her triumph in the dungeons towards the end is one of those “pump your fist” moments.

Yes, that’s Bell on the cover, and while he’s not in the book as much as I expected (the scene with the minotaur is kept to the bare minimum), we get a lot more context here for how Aiz feels about him. Whether those feelings are love or no, it’s pretty clear that Lefiya is not being paranoid in her jealousy – Aiz is becoming obsessed with Bell and how fast he’s growing as an adventurer. And he’s not the only one – the minotaur scene may be downplayed in the spinoff, but the impact is shown on all of Loki Familia as they descend to the 59th floor, each one using Bell as inspiration for their own growth. As I said above, when Lefiya is not chewing walls while staring at Aiz and Bell, she’s also excellent – Aiz’s hardcore “I don’t actually know how to teach” training may not help her much, but her friendship with Filvis (the Dionysus adventurer from the previous volume) proves to be far more impactful.

And then there are those fight scenes. This is Aiz’s spinoff, but in reality it’s proven to be more about Loki Familia in general, and the leaders of the family all get a chance to show off their amazing stuff here, with Gareth literally flinging a dragon like you would an Olympic hammer, Riveria’s magic providing seemingly over an hour of support allowing the rest of the family to rescue Lefiya (who has plummeted down six levels – don’t worry, it leads to better things), and Finn being the competent, sensible leader this team of hotheads needs – until the situations grows dire, when he takes off his limiters and proves to be more hotheaded than all the rest.

DanMachi is never going to be the sort of series that rewards deep analysis, and that goes doubly for its spinoff. This is fast food. But it’s very tasty fast food which leaves you satisfied and wanting to go back, which is all a franchise can really ask of its ongoing volumes. Highly recommended to DanMachi fans who can get over Lefiya’s behavior around Aiz.

Twinkle Stars, Vol. 4

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By Natsuki Takaya. Released in Japan as two separate volumes by Hakusensha, serialized in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Sheldon Drzka.

The decline and fall of Hijiri continues in this omnibus, as she tries her hardest to be a Hanajima but in the end is more of a Rin, complete with the angry freakouts whenever she’s embarrassed. This is not to say I don’t enjoy the entire plotline; the relationship between Hijiri and Saki may not be the healthiest in the world, but it’s cute, and leads to several laugh-out-loud moments, such as seeing how Hijiri first ‘brought Saki home’. Her own frustrations seem to spill over into her interaction with others as well, as she tries to help a girl who likes Yuuri confess to him even though she knows he’s going to reject the girl, and also tries to nag Yuuri into making his own advances on Sakuya, even as Yuuri seems content to sit back and watch Chihiro and Sakuya grow closer.

Of course, it’s entirely possible that he suspect Chihiro will simply torpedo himself before too long. Takaya’s series tend to have a common theme of seemingly “pure-hearted and good” people repressing their own emotions and traumas, and we get a lot of that here, as the art shows a large degree of depressed, resigned stares into the middle distance as characters wrestle with the fact that they might actually be forced to confront feelings that they’ve been avoiding for years. Kanade’s past is learned here, and it too manages to be a parade of parental abuse and distorted bouts of anger, another constant in Takaya’s works. I’ve tended to think that Twinkle Stars is trying to apologize to Tohru/Yuki Furuba fans by having this title be the one where they win, with Kanade as “Kyo”, but while Kanade is an awful lot like Kyo, he’s not a romantic lead, so it doesn’t quite fit.

This may make it sound as if the entire volume is nothing but depressing moping around, and it’s not. Takaya does have a certain amount of humor in this book, usually through snarky comments and reaction takes. Again, we see this most in scenes with Hijiri, whose own subplot is meant to be a lighter counterpart to the more serious relationships. This unfortunately does have the effect of diminishing Hijiri a bit, as I noted above – yes, she’s a bit more realistic and flawed, but I also feel she’s becoming almost too much of a caricatured “angry, embarrassed girl”, a trope which I think works better in shonen settings than in shoujo ones.

Twinkle Stars ran 11 volumes in Japan, and we’re up to 8 with this omnibus. I’m not certain if the final volume will be a triple of if we’ll get a single volume 6. In either event, I do still enjoy this series, especially for the emotional resonance, though I am grateful it’s going to be wrapping up soon as I’m not sure how much more teenage romantic drama I can take.

Re: ZERO ~Starting Life in Another World~, Vol. 5

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By Tappei Nagatsuki and Shinichirou Otsuka. Released in Japan by Media Factory. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Jeremiah Borque.

I admit that after four volumes of Re: Zero, and without having actually seen the anime (which, let’s remember, adapts the first NINE books), I wasn’t really sure what all the fuss was all about with Rem. I didn’t see why, aside from maybe general personality, she became basically the entire reason to watch the show for many fans. Having now read this 5th book, I think I’ve hit the point where I can say “Oh, yeah, that’s it”. Now that Emilia has broken off with Subaru and returned to the mansion, Rem gets her turn in the spotlight, showing a love and devotion to Subaru that almost goes to extremes. This can be heartwarming (as when she tries to get him to maybe stop hating himself a bit) and also disturbing (a lot of other times), but it’s hard to deny that Subaru transformed Rem’s life, and she’s never going to forget it.

It’s a good thing that someone’s in Subaru’s corner, because the reader certainly isn’t. Yes, it’s time to trawl through another book with the worst protagonist ever, as Subaru shows that after his epic beatdown from last time, he has not learned a single thing, assuring us that he will return to Emilia, save the day, and everything will be great again. Needless to say, that doesn’t happen. In fact, it doesn’t happen twice, as we’ve got another save point, meaning Subaru is free to start brutally dying again. It’s not just him or Emilia this time, though, as seemingly the entire village and mansion is slaughtered by our new enemies, the Witch Cult, led by Petelgeuse, a truly freaky nightmare who seems to revel in being insane because it’s over the top rather than any other reason. Subaru’s (feigned?) mental breakdown halfway through the book may give Rem some much needed spotlight, but it doesn’t do him much good. Even in the very end, we see his rage and fury and think: Yup, still hasn’t learned a goddamn thing.

That said, aside from Subaru I am still enjoying this series a great deal. The election continues apace, and we see once more just how hard it is for Emilia to get anywhere in it when even our grumpy abble seller and Rem show they have an instinctive fear and hatred towards her. Crusch remains an awesomely cool character, and we get some tantalizing background details of how she met Ferris that we want to hear more about. (If only there were a spinoff novel coming out in less than two weeks that would tell us that story!) There’s also a very interesting revelation about Subaru that Petelgeuse makes, which, combined with the witch miasma that pours through him whenever he resets to his save point, makes me wonder just how much of a typical “I am a normal Japanese man in another world” protagonist he is.

So my advice for this new volume of Re: Zero is the same as last time: try not to grind your teeth down to nubs as you read Subaru’s stubborn idiocy, but enjoy the rest of the worldbuilding, the scary villains, and Rem being pure and good and badass (I hope Emilia gets her turn next, but I have a feeling it may be a few more books.)

In This Corner of the World

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By Fumiyo Kouno. Released in Japan as “Kono Sekai no Katasumi ni” by Futabasha, serialized in the magazine Manga Action. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Adrienne Beck.

Sometimes history can spoil a manga a bit. You know something is going to happen going in, simply given where and when the series takes place. That’s absolutely the case with the fantastic omnibus In This Corner of the World, which focuses on a young girl named Suzu, who’s a bit airheaded but good at art, and her coming of age and awkward but loving marriage to an uncommunicative husband. The manga, particular the first two-thirds, focuses on her everyday life as she does household chores, tries to find time to do some drawings, and deals with her sister-in-law’s ire, as Suzu is regarded by the sister-in-law as a bit too ditzy to be a good wife. Which, honestly, sometimes seems to be the case. The kicker here, of course, is that Suzu was born and grew up in Hiroshima, and moves to Kure when she gets married… right before World War II.

As such, there is a certain sense as you read though Suzu’s daily struggles that you’re waiting for the bomb to go off. And there is indeed a bomb, though Suzu does not deal first-hand with the Hiroshima H-bomb. No, it’s just a simple, ordinary bomb that kills her niece and blows off her right hand, the one she draws with. The last third or so of the book has a dazed and grieving Suzu try to come to terms with what’s happening and to try to patch things up with her husband (who was with a prostitute some time ago, which caused friction between them). Suzu is kind-hearted and gentle, though, and so aside from one burst of fury when Japan surrenders (which you can understand given everything she went through) she is able to move on with her life despite the new difficulties.

This is all conveyed through some absolutely gorgeous art, which does not hesitate to try a different style in order to get across the mood or the point that it wants to make. I’d even go so far as to call the art the main reason to buy the book, though the story is good as well. We see chapters done with no dialogue, as storybook-style, as a comic strip (Suzu’s childish drawings of her older brother, which becomes a breathtakingly bittersweet callback right at the end), as karuta art, and even as blurry, out–of-focus scenery as we see Suzu struggling with the loss of her dominant hand. The story is told via the art as well as the narrative, and the result is a volume that makes you want to go back and reread it after you’ve finished.

This is not an easy read, as you might expect, and there are moments of quiet tragedy that sometimes make it hard to move on. But I absolutely recommend it, as it’s an achingly gorgeous book that deserves all the hype it might get.