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Reviews

Anonymous Noise, Vol. 5

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Anonymous Noise Volume 5 by Ryoko Fukuyama

I think Fukuyama should give other mangaka lessons on designing compelling covers. The cover for this volume of Anonymous Noise features a great image of Miou rocking out with her guitar. Speaking of Miou, in my mind, I think the best possible ending for this series would be for Nino and Miou to forswear all men, and run off to form an all girl supergroup. This being shoujo manga, I think the series is going to continue along with some conventional love triangles until everything is resolved.

I tend to prefer Anonymous Noise when it focuses more on the music than the romantic drama aspects of the story, so I was looking forward to this volume, where Nino and Yuzu’s band In No Hurry goes up against Momo and Miou’s Silent Black Kitty in a battle of the bands. At 5 volumes in, I’m still not finding the romance storylines in this series very compelling, as Nino is revered as a muse and pulled back and forth by her two childhood friends as though they are squabbling over a shiny toy. I did enjoy seeing Nino’s determination as she approaches practicing for her big concert, and there was a great scene of sassy comebacks as the rival bands unexpectedly find themselves on a radio show together, where they argue about who is the most angsty. I wish the series had a few more self-aware humorous bits like this.

Momo has an emotional confrontation with Nino right before she’s about to perform, which is an action I think is so overwhelmingly selfish, it causes me to not be very invested in the whole Nino/Momo romance that this series has built up over several volumes. Nino’s reaction to her emotional trauma is to take her fugue-like state while singing to the next level, and she responds with an incredible performance, even if she is emotionally out of control. The art is consistently super stylish, and I enjoy the dynamic performance scenes of Nino scream-singing. While I might not be very invested in the romance side of Anonymous Noise, it reliably brings the drama with every volume, and I do enjoy the series when the focus is centered more on the music that the characters all love.

Forbidden Scrollery, Vol. 1

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By ZUN and Moe Harukawa. Released in Japan as “Touhou Suzunaan ~ Forbidden Scrollery” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialized in the magazine Comp Ace. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by ZephyrRZ.

Seemingly this manga is simply another in a long, long line of titles that can be summed up as “supernatural experts deal with the yokai problem of the week”. The star of the show, or at least the character who the events revolve around, is Kosuzu, a perky and slightly ditzy seller of rare books. The land she (and the rest of the cast) live in, Gensokyo, seems to exist somewhere in yokai land, and finding books that actually exist “in the human world” is a big deal. Of course, just because the books may have existed in the human world doesn’t mean they can’t be big trouble. There’s letter-eating bugs, and sentient smoke, and all sorts of yokai that are not precisely evil but are definitely troublesome. Fortunately, Kosuzu has a group of friends to help her out whenever things get too out of control. In fact, at times it feels as if the friends are the real stars that the reader paid to see…

Yes, as most readers are no doubt aware, this is not merely another generic youkai manga, but in fact that first manga licensed here in the West based on the hideously popular bullet hell game Touhou Project. And the reason that so much attention is devoted to Reimu and Marisa is that they are the overall stars of the franchise – Kosuzu was created specially for this title. There are, thankfully, some explanatory endnotes detailing who’s who of the major characters. Sometimes this isn’t needed – the vaguely antagonistic friendship/rivalry between Reimu and Marisa is pretty self-evident from the text, but sometimes things can be a bit confusing. When Reimu meets Mamizou, the unsettling supernatural tanuki girl, it’s clear they have a past history, but that is presumably part of another piece of Touhou lore.

So the question remains, is this readable and enjoyable to someone unfamiliar with the Touhou franchise? I think so. Pretty much all I know about Touhou can be summed up as “Cirno’s Perfect Math Class”, but I was able to move along here, mostly as I have considerable experience reading youkai manga. The cast are new to me, but their character tics are pretty well established – Reimu seems very lazy, for example. That said, I think I found Kosuzu the most interesting character – which makes sense, since this series is supposedly about her. It’s unclear how aware she is of the dangerous qualities of her books – certainly she seems to be hypersensitive to anyone damaging then, but that reads as “obsessive book lover” more than anything else. I want to see more of her.

I think Yen Press seems to agree with me that the series can be appreciated without any previous knowledge, as the Touhou references are limited to the endnotes – not even a “based on the hit game Touhou Project!” on the back cover. It’s supposed to succeed or fail on its own. There seem to be about 7 volumes, and I’ll certainly see how the next one is. For Touhou fans, obviously, but also yokai fans and fans of cute girls.

Shojo FIGHT!, Vols. 1-2

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By Yoko Nihonbashi | Published digitally by Kodansha Comics

Neri Oishi was a great volleyball player in elementary school, when she was captain of a team that took second place in the national championship. At her prestigious middle school, however, she’s a benchwarmer, often tasked with picking up balls and doing laundry. One of her teammates, Chiyo, is vocally frustrated by the situation, since she played against Neri’s team and knows how good she is. After injuring Chiyo during an argument, Neri must play in her stead in a practice game. Try as she might to suppress them, her aggressive tendencies flare, and she ends up injuring a teammate. Disaster is further assured when her childhood friend/osteopath Shigeru chooses the boys’ bathroom as a treatment venue. Upon discovery (and subsequent misunderstanding), Neri is forced to resign from the volleyball club.

It’s a neat setup, introducing Neri in this environment where she’s not flourishing. By the end of the second volume, readers have learned about the childhood trauma that led to Neri becoming obsessed with volleyball as a means to forget, and the consequences that single-minded focus had on her relationship with her elementary teammates, all of whom bailed on their plans to attend middle school together. She also enrolls in Kokuyodani Private High School, where her sister attended and whose volleyball team is now coached by her sister’s former teammate.

Neri is ashamed of the selfish way she sometimes plays, and wants to change. She’s also absolutely certain that anyone trying to be friends with her is going to end up regretting it. To this end, she initially keeps her #1 fan, Manabu Odagiri, at a distance. Neri saved Manabu from bullies when they were kids, and Manabu has never forgotten it. It soon becomes clear that Manabu is now in the one in the position to help, urging Neri to try to talk to people instead of simply interpreting things in the worst way possible.

Manabu also ends up joining the volleyball team, despite being a total newbie, leading to the most enjoyable part of the series so far: a three-on-three game between the new first years. All of the firsties on the Kokuyodani team have distinct personalities (and, actually, the upperclassmen are seriously fun and awesome, too) and their different training styles are fascinating to watch, especially as Neri manages to drill Manabu in the basics while tasked with spending the first three days only on cleaning duty. Seeing Manabu succeed is gratifying, and I loved that, after Neri’s “mad dog” persona emerges during the game, none of her new teammates harbors a grudge about it.

I am very impressed with how vivid these characters are so far, and 100% addicted already. I also want to note that although the art style is a bit unconventional, it doesn’t take long to get used to it and after a while I stopped noticing it entirely. Although I will always love shounen sports manga, after Shojo FIGHT! and Giant Killing, seinen sports manga might be my new fave.

Shojo FIGHT! is ongoing in Japan, where it is up to fourteen volumes.

Review copies provided by the publisher

So I’m a Spider, So What?, Vol. 1

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By Okina Baba and Tsukasa Kiryu. Released in Japan as “Kumo Desu ga, Nani ka?” by Fujimi Shobo. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Jenny McKeon.

The entire genre of ‘transported to another world’ (isekai) has grown massive and huge. Be it via dimensional portal, game gone wrong, or simply death and reincarnation, Japanese teens and young adults keep finding ways to enter a new world, pick up a sword, and start grinding like it’s 1999. And as you can imagine, it’s becoming harder and harder to stand out from the crowd, to have a premise that does not make the average reader go “oh, this again”. And thus we have the influx of being reborn in another world as something weird. Next month we’ll get slime monsters, and in April we may hit peak ridiculousness with vending machines, but for the moment we have spiders, as our vaguely named heroine (we hear about a mean nickname, but her actual name seems deliberately vague) wakes up after an explosion seemingly destroys her classroom to find… she’s a spider. A tiny, weak spider, the sort you kill in Level 1 of your new game. Now what?

To be honest, the other light novel title I kept comparing this to as I read it is Arifureta. The bulk of the book is similar to the middle of that series, with the spider getting into tricky situations, figuring out how to survive them, and getting increasingly strong, even if she may not realize it. Contrasting this we cut back to her other classmates, who have also been reincarnated in the same fantasy world. Some get off well – Shun is a prince with high magical talent, though he’s still a newbie to actually using it. His (male) best friend from their previous world is reincarnated as a (female) noble, though (s)he seems to take it in stride. And one of the “queen bee” types from their class is a dragon, and Shun’s familiar. We even get the cute but immature young teacher who’s there to help find the rest of her class so that she can show them the right path, which is pretty much exactly like Arifureta.

Whether you like Spider So What (which is what I’ve started to call it) depends on how much you can deal with the spider’s narration, which I would describe as first-person hyperactive teenager. In her previous human life, our heroine was apparently a quiet girl, more comfortable gaming at home than interacting with others. Which is fine, but it doesn’t quite mesh with her personality as a spider, which feels like one two hundred page run-on sentence. The plot is simple – watch her kill and eat things (even if it’s a bad idea), gain more experience and levels (which she (and we) can see, in a manner similar to the Death March books), and gradually get into some pretty badass battles – the fight against the bees near the end was probably the best scene in the book, and shows off how far she’s come. Aside from a “it was me all along” moment when we realize the egg she couldn’t open was actually the dragon egg that housed another reincarnated student, she never meets the rest of the class – their narratives are mostly separate. I’m not sure how long that will go on, though.

So I’m a Spider, So What? is not quite as goofy as I’d expected, and when you remove the veneer it’s actually pretty similar to other titles in this genre. But the fact that the lead is a teenage girl, even if she’s a spider, is refreshing, and she’s certainly plucky. I found this pretty decent, and I’ll read more to see where it goes.

Arakawa Under the Bridge, Vol. 1

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By Hikaru Nakamura. Released in Japan in two separate volumes by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Young Gangan. Released in North America by Vertical Comics. Translated by Andrew Cunningham.

Some series work better in collected in volumes, and some work better in a magazine next to other titles that aren’t very much like it. I’m pretty sure that Arakawa Under the Bridge is one of the latter. Of course, since we don’t have too much opportunity to read Young Gangan over here, we’re only getting the volumes – and even worse, this is an omnibus edition, collecting two of them at once. I say “even worse” even though I did enjoy Arakawa a great deal, but it is, at heart, a gag comic, with its chapters being approximately 6-8 pages, and such series always have to deal with the question of “can this hold up when we get to Vol. 7 or 8?”. Even Nakamura’s other famous (and unlicensed) series, Saint Young Men, deals with this, as despite its fantastic and slightly blasphemous premise, it’s much the same – it rides on its weird humor. So far, though, Arakawa is worth the read.

The premise is paper-thin. Our hero is a successful, rich young man who lives his life (thanks to his somewhat abusive father) with the philosophy “never be in debt to anyone”. Then, through a series of ridiculous circumstances, he gets his life saved by Nino, a self-proclaimed Venusian woman who lives under one of the city bridges of the Arakawa river (so no, she is not the Arakawa under the bridge). He is thus forced to try to repay her so that he can move on with his life… which proves impossible, and he soon finds himself inveigled in her world as part-boyfriend, part-tsukkomi, meeting a series of increasingly ridiculous people who also live under the bridge. Despite apparently being a young heir with an important job in a highrise, no one from his family or friends ever comes looking for him. The outside world is not important in this. It’s about the weirdos.

Supposedly, Nino is the first of the weirdos that we meet, but she proves to be the calm, stable center of the series, her deadpan earnestness giving it grounding. It also allows the reader to make an emotional connection between her and “Recruit” (their nickname for our hero, which I tend to think of him as because his last name is too long), and I was surprised and pleased to find a few heartwarming, sweet moments scattered in among the zaniness. You actually want to see if they can form a real relationship. Might be a bit difficult, though, given the other cast members, which include a man who dresses as a kappa, a guy with a star for a head, a male nun who looks like he stepped out of the pages of Black Lagoon, a young yakuza wannabe girl, and a farm woman who confuses ‘teasing’ with abusive language.

As you might imagine, this series is for people who enjoy amusing, strange characters interacting. If you want narrative or character development, I’d look elsewhere. But Arakawa made me laugh, and by the end I wanted to see more of them. That’s the important thing.

Outbreak Company: The Power of Moe

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By Ichiro Sakaki and Yuugen. Released in Japan by Kodansha. Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by Kevin Steinbach.

It has almost become a running gag to say this, but I went into reading the first volume of Outbreak Company with rock-bottom expectations. The subtitle of the first volume alone made me roll my eyes, and the description of the plot didn’t help one bit. And yet once again, somehow, J-Novel Club has managed to snag a series that sounds wretched and shows that it’s actually pretty readable and entertaining once I get into it. Admittedly, the author is an old hand at novels rather than a web novelist turned published pro, which helps. Sakaki’s previous series include Scrapped Princess and Chaika the Coffin Princess, but we level up a bit here, as Outbreak Company has a Queen. The series is filled with cliches – our hero is an otaku and a bit of a perv, one heroine’s breasts are there to be pointed out every single time, and the Queen is sixteen but looks about eight. Fortunately, the book does things with these cliches.

Our hero is Shinichi, who’s living at home and has not been to school in about a year, but instead spends his life playing games, watching anime, and buying goods. After his parents give him an ultimatum (which may be the funniest scene in the novel, and I think was censored in the anime), he goes to find a job, and winds up interviewing at a sketchy company which tests his otaku knowledge. Mid-interview, he passes out and wakes up in a fantasy world. Turns out it’s connected to Japan, and the JSDF have assigned him to introduce otaku pursuits – anime, manga, etc. – to this fantasy kingdom. For cultural reasons. He’s assigned a maid (from the fantasy world) and a JSDF bodyguard (from Japan), both of whom are cute young women. And the Queen is also a cute young woman, as he observes the moment he sees her – though “little girl” is what her appearance screams. As the book goes on it seriously examines the ridiculousness of the premise, the casual racism and classism that infests the fantasy world, and whether Shinichi is really a good guy or not.

As I said, the series is rife with cliches, but they never actually descend to the creepy or annoying level, much to my surprise. Shinichi is a PG-rated otaku, looking at large breasts and going on about maids because he’s a teenager, but never going further than that, and he also has a genuine sense of right and wrong, which I suspect will get him in trouble in future books. His reaction to the treatment of Myucel, the half-elf maid who serves him (and falls in love with him almost immediately, mostly as he treats her like a real person) and Brooke (a lizardman servant, which does freak him out a bit at first) is not as subtle as the casual reader might like, but after so manty fantasy light novels where the reaction of the hero to slavery existing is “welp”, this is refreshing. And while he has a magic ring to communicate with others, it doesn’t work on other media, so translating is desperately needed – no easy outs in his new job.

This was clearly written from the start to be an ongoing series rather than “do the first one and we’ll see how it sells”, and it ends on a highly ambiguous note that makes the reader want to get the next book. I definitely will. As long as it sticks to gently poking at otaku cliches rather than leaping into them face-first, and keeps on tearing down the class and race-based structure of this fantasy universe, Outbreak Company is worth your time.

A First Look at The Promised Neverland

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Crack pacing, crisp artwork, and a shocking plot twist in chapter one — those are just three reasons to pick up The Promised Neverland when it arrives in comic shops on December 5th. The first volume is a masterful exercise in world-building, introducing the principal characters and the main conflict in a few economic strokes, avoiding the trap that ensnares so many fantasy authors: the info-dump introduction. Instead, the writer-artist team of Kaiu Shirai and Posuka Demizu allow the reader to figure out what’s happening by revealing important plot details as the characters uncover them, and letting the artwork establish the setting. That makes the very earliest pages of the story flow more like a rollercoaster than a Star Wars screen crawl, making every page turn feel like an urgent necessity.

The story begins at Grace Field House, an orphanage plucked from a Victorian novel: the main building is a homey Tudor villa that’s surrounded by open meadows and lush forest, perfect for a game of tag. Our first hint that something is amiss comes just six pages into the story, as Emma, the narrator, makes a mental note of all the things she’s grateful for: “a warm bed, delicious food” and “an all-white uniform.” Before we can ponder the significance of the uniform, however, Demizu inserts a panel revealing that every resident of Grace Field House has a number tattooed on her neck, a sure sign that the orphans are more prisoners than temporary wards:

A smattering of other clues — including a series of daily IQ tests and a fence encircling the property — reinforce our perception that Emma and her friends Roy and Norman are in grave danger. And while the earliest chapters occasionally bow to Shonen Jump convention with on-the-nose narration, it’s the artwork, not Emma’s voice-over, that makes each new revelation feel so sinister. Consider the panel that introduces the testing ritual:

In the first ten pages of the story, Demizu uses little to no shading to create volume or contrast, instead depicting the setting and characters through clean, graceful linework. The image above, which appears on pages 12-13, is the first time that we see such a dramatic use of tone; the students at the back of the frame look like they’re being swallowed by a black hole, while the students at the front sit under a klieg light’s glare. Demizu’s subsequent drawings are more restrained than this particular sequence, but her artwork becomes more detailed and complex than what we saw in the story’s first pages — it’s as if the setting is coming into focus for the first time, complicating our initial impressions of Grace Field House as a place of refuge.

I’m reluctant to say more about the plot, since the first chapter’s spell loses some of its potency if you know the Big Terrible Secret beforehand. (If you absolutely, positively must know what happens, Wikipedia has a decent, one-paragraph summary of the premise.) By the time Emma, Roy, and Norman realize the real purpose of their incarceration, however, the basic “rules” of the Promised Neverland universe have been firmly established, and the characters fleshed out enough for us to care whether they succeed in escaping. More importantly, the lead trio are smart and capable without seeming like miniature adults, making their likelihood of success seem uncertain, rather than preordained. That element of suspense may be difficult to sustain for 10 or 20 volumes, but hot damn — volume one is a nail-biter. Count me in for more!

Volume one debuts on December 5th in print and ebook form. Chapters 1-3 are available for free on the VIZ website; the story is currently being serialized in the English edition of Weekly Shonen Jump.

Slumbering Beauty, Vol. 1

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By Yumi Unita. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Rakuen Le Paradis. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Angela Liu, Adapted by Marykate Jasper.

It can be difficult sometimes when your name becomes synonymous with something notorious. Slumbering Beauty has a lot of things I love. A snarky, emotionally repressed heroine who gradually opens up to other people even as we see that her home life is a wreck. A premise that can involve “situation of the week” yet still have an ongoing plot. Twists that become much darker when you think about them. And some very amusing humor. That said, it’s still hard for me to get past “from the creator of Bunny Drop” and not think “uh oh”. Fortunately, so far there seems to be absolutely no sign of any imbalanced and unsettling relationships here, though I felt the same way when I started Bunny Drop. It’s a good series with a dollop of fantasy, and I’m interested to see where it goes, though we appear to have caught up with Japan already.

Our heroine is Yaneko, a high school girl who really loves to sleep – in fact, it’s difficult for her to get up every morning. This is a problem for the sleep spirit Nerimu, whose job it is to ensure that humans get enough sleep and wake up on time. Yaneko has one of these things down. She can also see him, for reasons that aren’t quite clear yet, and over the course of the series becomes an apprentice as she accompanies him on his rounds to quiet flailing babies, ease the brains of constantly texting young ladies, and otherwise become the Japanese Sandman (it’s not clear whether she has to sneak out with the dew as well). In her interactions with him, Yaneko begins to make real human friends – she was very much the loner no one talks to before – and develop a bit more empathy, and Nerimu, the sleep spirit, is there to guide her.

One of Nerimu’s fellow spirits suggests that he take her on as an apprentice, and this was the part of the book that fascinated me the most, as it almost feels like a metaphor for suicide. Yaneko is making a couple of friends now, but her home life is so oppressive – the reason she seems to sleep so much and so deeply is her parents fighting all the time – that at one point she readily agrees to take on Nerimu’s job. He has to talk her down from this, saying that in effect she will be vanishing from the world, and pointing out his own tragic situation from centuries earlier – it’s not that he misses his mother, it’s that he can no longer even remember her face. I am hoping that Yaneko resists the urge for a volume or two longer, as I’m liking the way she’s gradually opening up and starting to care about others.

As I said earlier, this is the only volume out in Japan, so be prepared for a wait for the next one. It’s pretty good, though, and shows off the author’s innate skill without having any of the disquieting plotlines of her prior series. Give it a look.

A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 13

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By Kazumi Kamachi and Kiyotaka Haimura. Released in Japan as “To Aru Majutsu no Index” by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Andrew Prowse.

Last time I bemoaned my dislike of the author trying to be funny, which he does every once in a while. Fortunately, this book is the sequel to Book 12, which had all the funny stuff front-loaded, and so it is content to be a giant series of fights, showing off Touma’s stubborn drive to help people, Accelerator realizing that no, anti-hero doesn’t quite fit yet, he’s still a villain, and Crowley using people as unwitting pawns to such an extent that he’s actually called out on it at the end. In short, it’s doing the things I like to read A Certain Magical Index for, and therefore I would argue it’s an excellent volume. It also features a significant role for Index, who contrasts with Accelerator so much that it boggles the mind that their paths keep intersecting. Still waiting for her to be useless and annoying, that must be anime-only, I swear.

Introduced in this volume: Acqua of the Back, Terra of the Left (voice only). Compared to the ranting, deeply broken Vento of the Front, whose hatred and fury at anything related to science has literally been weaponized by the Catholic… geh, by the Orthodox Church, Acqua looks to be fairly sensible and calm. Of course, he still threatens Touma with death, but honestly, Touma can be a bit overbearing. And frankly, Acqua was right, Vento can’t just say “wait, I was wrong all along” and switch sides the way so many other opponents Touma’s dealt with have done. In terms of chronology, we’re directly after the events in Book 12, and the two read as a two-book set. Uiharu is slightly less out of character here at least, in her one scene before she collapses like most of the population in the city.

We also see Hyouka Kazakiri as well, and honestly it’s been so look since the 6th book I won’t blame anyone who had forgotten her. Sadly, she’s mostly used as a walking plot device, and I have a sneaking suspicion will continue to be irrelevant after this book is finished. Presumable she and Index are out having burgers and Cokes whenever the focus is not on them. The really important plot here, though, is Accelerator, who gets his first real spotlight since his “rehabilitation” in the 5th book. It wasn’t much of a rehabilitation, to be honest, and those who like their heroes and villains to be black and white won’t like this book at all. Most of his victims are mooks who also seem to be happy to kill innocent civilians if it serves them, but it’s the WAY Accelerator kills them – in one case punching a woman’s jaw off and then crushing her in a hydraulic press – that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Not that I think it’s bad – it’s exactly what the author wants to do, showing us how much of Accelerator’s goodwill is entirely tied to Last Order, and when she’s not around or captured, god help everyone. I will leave the mysterious black Angel Wings he sprouts before sending Kihara into the sky like a rocket for a later date.

If you have been reading Index, this is a good one – no surprise given it’s an odd number. Good fights, Index gets to actually do things using the magic the narrative keeps insisting she doesn’t have, Touma gets to alternately talk and punch a villain down to size, and the frog-faced Doctor draws a line in the sand – and also shows us how close he really is to the heart of Academy City. And next time we take another European field trip, this time to France, and finally see why fandom loves Itsuwa so much.

Nekomonogatari: Cat Tale (Black)

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By NISIOISIN. Released in Japan by Kodansha. Released in North America by Vertical, Inc. Translated by Ko Ransom.

I had to reread my review of the Tsubasa Cat volume to make sure I didn’t repeat myself, as this book goes over a lot of the same ground that one did, even as it expands (and sometimes contradicts, as Nisio says himself in the afterword) on the story of Tsubasa Hanekawa and Golden Week. Indeed, it’s still not done, and Hanekawa’s tale will continue (and, for the most part, conclude) with Nekomonogatari (White) next time. But while Tsubasa Cat was more showing off Hanekawa’s stress due to her repressed love for Araragi, and ensuing jealousy at all the women in his life, particularly Senjogahara, this volume wants to examine what Hanekawa is like as a person, and how deeply screwed up and damaged she really is. And I’d also argue it’s even more about Araragi and Hanekawa’s deep-seated lust and passion for each other which never does blossom into anything more. This volume shows off why that’s probably a good thing.

The trend of “the heroine of the previous volume has a long scene with Araragi at the start of the following one” ends here (unless you count Hanekawa following herself), but man, what a way to bring it to a close. The conversation between Araragi and Tsukihi at the start of the volume may be the most rambling, pointless conversation in the history of the series, and that’s really saying something. It has such a reputation that Vertical actually sell it in the cover leaf copy. It is almost precisely one-quarter of the entire book. I don’t think it disappoints, though as always with Monogatari you’d better be prepared for some fanservice. The siblings’ conversation about love was used in the anime, but the conversation had to be cut to the absolute minimum – meaning the long dissertation taking in Anne of Green Gables, panties, more panties, and still more panties was left out. There’s also even more metatextual stuff than before – this was inevitable given that he wrote this as the anime was becoming really popular, but we get cute narrative mentions of Senjogahara, Hachikuji, and Kanbaru (who aren’t in the book, this taking place before the events of the main series) as well as Tsukihi saying, in response to a bad impersonation by her brother, that her voice sounds more like Yuka Iguchi.

As for the main plot, we’ve seen the prologue to it in Tsubasa Cat. Hanekawa was hit by her step-step-father – and the narrative makes it clear he really belted her, to the point where she hit the opposite wall – and subsequently, along with Araragi, buried a dead cat lying by the road. This ends up getting her possessed by an Afflicting Cat, which goes about “relieving her stress” by beating her parents nearly to death, cutting off Araragi’s arm, and going on a spree of draining energy from the town’s residents. The gimmick here is that in reality, it’s Hanekawa who is more of an aberration than the Afflicting Cat ever was, and the synthesis of the two of them has made her so powerful that even Meme Oshino (still around, this being a flashback volume) gets the crap beaten out of him. This is interesting as a look into Hanekawa’s broken psyche, though I found it less appealing when Oshino tries to excuse her abusive parents by saying she’s essentially asking for it. And Araragi’s solution, as one might expect, is overly violent and lethal to him, and doesn’t really achieve anything whatsoever except a temporary fix. But at least, in the end, he’s able to realize that repressing his love for Hanekawa is the right thing to do for both of them. Because trust me, he’s lying like a rug about not loving her. At least at this point in the series.

This is the end of the “first series” of Monogatari, and the next few books have a few minor but significant changes. The most obvious being the narrative voice. Next time we’ll see the White side of Nekomonogatari, which resolves Hanekawa’s story with her own first-person narration, and is also the first “Araragi-lite” book. Till then, enjoy the Black side, which is not only Araragi-heavy, but a heavy book in general. It’s depressing to see how screwed up everyone in it is. Honestly, Senjogahara will end up being the most well-adjusted of the cast once she comes along.

UQ Holder!, Vol. 12

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By Ken Akamatsu. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Bessatsu Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Alethea and Athena Nibley.

It’s sometimes amusing to look at my old reviews and see what’s been answered (or not) since then. Last time I did a full review of UQ Holder! was a year and a half ago, and I found myself wondering if the series was ever going to decide whether it was a true sequel to Mahou Sensei Negima! or not. Well, we now know the answer to that, and it’s 100% yes, as there is no longer any real attempt to keep new readers who may not have read the older series. The cover alone is a dead giveaway, as 3 of the 4 characters on it are famous stars of the old series… though it remains up in the air as to whether this is the “real” Negi, Nodoka and Yue or merely dark clones/copies/evil versions. The last two chapters of this volume are riveting, and promise to answer the open ending that annoyed so many Negima fans. Unfortunately, before that we have the previous 8 chapters.

I’ve been reading Negima for years (and Love Hina, for that matter), which means that not only am I invested in seeing how it turns out, I should be used to the sheer amount of female nudity that pervades almost every volume. This is something Ken Akamatsu has been doing for over 20 years, and while he’s switched from ‘ecchi comedy with lots of nudity’ to ‘action manga with lots of nudity’, the core does not change. And yet it’s getting harder to justify in these days of Roy Moore allegedly cruising malls for young girls, when even the main text of UQ Holder has the announcer of the beach motorcycle race that takes up most of the volume discuss the fact that the three main girls being stripped are all twelve years old. A major reason that fans, particularly in Japan, read Love Hina, Negima, and UQ Holder is to look at naked underage manga girls. And it’s really creepy. Most of the nudity here is presented as ‘nostalgic’, using similar magic (and sneezes) from its parent series, as if to say that it’s all just a callback. Ergh.

Moving back to Negima, the bits of this volume that aren’t underage nudity are Negima callbacks. It’s explicit in the last two chapters, when “Negi” and several of our old friends show up as sort of an evil sentai team, but even the rest of the series has decided to let its Negima flag fly. Kirie is more of a Chisame expy than ever before, and the race also features Ayaka’s granddaughter and a girl who is not only a dead ringer for Shinobu from Love Hina but also NAMED Shinobu. Oh yes, and there’s also Konoka and Setsuna’s identical-looking granddaughters, though as ever “my grandmoms were hella gay” is never going to be explicitly spelled out in this series. The cliffhanger also promises that we’re going to get an extended flashback, which presumably will wrap up Negima’s 800 loose ends. It is nice to see Asuna again.

So in the end this is the definition of “only buy this if you’re a true fan”. Between the fact that it’s incomprehensible to anyone who hasn’t read 38 Negima volumes, you also need to accept Akamatsu’s fanservice, or at least avert your eyes. Which is what I do, and I acknowledge my massive hypocrisy. Only for the hardcore.

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.