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Reviews

Log Horizon: Go East, Kanami!

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By Mamare Touno and Kazuhiro Hara. Released in Japan by Enterbrain. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Taylor Engel.

We continue our tour of the Elder Tales universe, with this volume not even taking place on the Japanese server for the most part. Instead we take a look at a group in Central Asia (Kazakhstan, to be precise) and their attempt to move slowly east so that they can swim to Japan (which seems ludicrous, but remember, adventurers). The reason to swim to Japan is quite a clever one: the whole disaster that caused the players to get caught in this world happened before the expansion pack had actually dropped… except in Japan, where they got it by virtue of the time zone. The group is led – sort of – by Kanami, a name that has come up quite often in previous books. The former de facto leader of the Debauchery Tea Party, she’s more a force of will than a leader. That said, it makes sense that of the main cast of this book, she actually gets the least attention – she has no character arc, being basically perfect.

No, instead, the main character for this book is Leonardo, who dresses like his favorite American hero, silly as it may seem, and says “Cowabunga” during desperate attacks. And is named Leonardo. But it’s OK, because this is a frog, not a turtle. Which makes this OK! Seriously, the mind reels at how much Touno wanted to use Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles here, and the serial numbers aren’t so much filed off as covered over with see-through tape. Leonardo is actually a New Yorker, which is refreshing, and we get a passable idea of what his life was like in the real world before this (he seems to be a computer nerd). Here, he’s a very competent assassin, though he’s still not quite invested in their current situation, and has trouble seeing the People of the Earth as anything but NPCs. A lot of this book is showing him the error of his ways, including a subtle romance with Coppelia, a girl with a mysterious past.

The Log Horizon anime did a good job of steadfastly putting each book on the screen… with the exception of this book, which got short shrift, getting only one episode devoted to it. As such, if anime fans wanted to know which one they had to buy to get more details, this is definitely the one. There is the usual endless discussion of game mechanics, far more than almost any other LN in a game world bothers to do, but there are also some very cool battles. And we get more insight into what exactly is happening, and how the People of the Earth and its denizens are reacting to it. Lastly, I was very amused by the occasional mention of the series’ big bad, Indicus, the smug maid who’s using Nureha as a puppet ruler. Every time she’s mentioned, it’s in a “My friends… and Zoidberg” way, showing that almost nobody can stand her. I expect a confrontation between her and Shiroe soon.

This volume didn’t blow me away like the previous one did, but it’s a rock-solid volume of Log Horizon, and fans of the anime will absolutely have to get it. And remember, this Leonardo likes SUSHI, not pizza.

Hybrid x Heart Magias Academy Ataraxia, Vol. 1

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By Masamune Kuji, Riku Ayakawa, Hisasi, and Kurogin. Released in Japan as “Masou Gakuen HxH” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialization ongoing in the magazine Comp Ace. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Caleb Cook.

Every once in a while, despite knowing that it’s not really my thing, I take a look at one of these “excuse to draw large breasts” series. If I’m unlucky, I can’t even finish the thing. If I’m lucky, I find enough points of interest to catch my eye besides the boobs. Most of the time, though, I finish the volume and think “well, that certainly was that kind of series”, and such is the case with Hybrid x Heart, which also manages to work in the cliche of the magical academy of fighters. The thing that did surprise me, though, is how much the basic plot feels like Evangelion. Boy who was abandoned for being useless is brought back in a time of crisis to use his mecha powers to save the world, being led by his older sister, who is not a great Gendo figure, but we can’t have everything. The difference is that in order to save the world, he has to feel up the female cast until they gain power.

Yes, you read that right. Usually these series at least try to put a veneer of technology over the ecchi deeds, and we try to get that here with talk of “hybrid counts” and how it’s Kizuna’s power that basically refuels them. But it’s really about the breasts, which are groped quite a bit in this series, because there’s also a lot of mecha fighting and the girls who do the actual fighting need a bit of a recharge. I did notice that this is the sort of series where we not only credit the original character designer, but the original mecha designer, and the powered suits do look pretty cool if you’re into that sort of thing, though I imagine hardcore Gundam types might want to see more mecha battles and a bit less groping. As for the characters, they’re very generic, with the heroine Aine seemingly OK with Kizuna doing whatever he wants as long as she gets more power, and the standard blonde American Yurishia who will no doubt be the first main rival figure.

This was originally a light novel, and I think, as with the other series of this sort where the manga was licensed but the LN wasn’t (High School DxD, Testament of Sister New Devil) I should probably be grateful – the groping and constant boobfest is bad enough visually, but as prose I think it might be unbearable. As for the art, it’s passable, though I do note that Aine (blue hair) and Yurishia (blonde hair) have a tendency to look a lot alike in black and white, and it can be hard to tell them apart. Honestly, this reads sort of like the harem Evangelion fics you used to see back in the day on FFNet, with of course one big exception: no one is getting lucky here. The series doesn’t go beyond groping in this first volume. I’m not sure oif that will change, but in the meantime, I can recommend this series only to the most hardcore “must get everything with mecha” fans, or its likely audience, 13-year-old boys.

Kamisama Kiss Vol. 25 – limited edition

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Kamisama Kiss Volume 25 Limited Edition by Julietta Suzuki

I had a good time getting caught up on this series in order to enjoy the special edition concluding volume. After having to deal with the grand conclusion of the saga concerning Tomoe and Akura-ou, including visiting the land of the dead, tracking down Akura-oh’s immortal body, and dealing with Nanami’s decline after having her life force taken from her, the final volume gives all the characters in Kamisama Kiss some much needed breathing room, as Nanami and Tomoe prepare to enter the world of human adulthood together. Along the way Nanami helps out the Kotaro and Himemiko one last time, and it is nice to have this circular moment of returning to some of Nanami’s first friends after she became attached to the Ayakashi world.

Nanami and Tomoe’s wedding is a little bittersweet, because when they both become human, they’ll become cut off from the world where all their friends live. This is especially hard on Mizuki, who is worried about being left alone. Nanami and Tomoe decide to marry on the last possible day before becoming human, so everyone can be invited to the wedding. I do enjoy final volumes that allow the reader to say goodbye to an extended cast of characters, and this volume pulls off the reunion and celebration in a lively fashion, with detailed wedding costumes and panels that pause to show all the wedding guests. Someone as capable and arrogant as Tomoe isn’t going to have too much difficulty fitting into the human world, and the final chapter shows just how capable the newly human couple is at adapting to their new life.

The limited edition featured a slim hardcover book with the first few pages devoted to small reproductions of the color pages in the manga volumes. This was done in a collage, year-book style layout which was nice, but it also made me really long for an oversized volume of Julietta Suzuki illustrations because some of the detail was lost. The bulk of the volume is an extra bonus story that shows more of Nanami and Tomoe’s life after becoming human, with bonus pencil sketches of the final chapter of the manga. It was nice to get a window into Suzuki’s artistic process, I only wish the special bonus book had been two times the size and twice as long, but I shouldn’t be greedy! Kamisama Kiss was such a special series, I’m glad the final volume got a little extra bonus for the long-time fans who have enjoyed the series for so long.

In Another World with My Smartphone, Vol. 5

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

First, off, here’s a surprise with this volume of Smartphone: there’s no new love interest. Touya’s list of wives is still stuck at five, and (for anime watchers who were rather startled to see her name on the flashforward) Leen here does nothing except dole out the occasional exposition and pine for the library to be discovered. That does not mean that there’s not a lot going on here: the story is jam-packed as always, though typically it does not appear to follow a specific path so much as meander. Touya sets up his new duchy, adding renovations to the castle (game room with bowling alley and whack-a-mole), gets the major rulers of the area obsessed with mahjong, creates roads, brings in new businesses, and creates a legion of soldiers (including a team of ninjas led by Tsubaki from the Eashen volume). Typical Smartphone stuff, and nothing that would raise an eyebrow. But let’s talk about the religious dictatorship.

This is the first volume to come out after the anime finished, so I expect may grab a few more readers who want to see what happens next. They may be surprised. Not so much by the evil and hypocritical dictatorship – such things are a dime a dozen in manga and light novels, and honestly the fact that the main Cardinal was described as looking exactly like Hitler barely raised an eyebrow. No, what startled me was Touya’s vehement reaction to the attempt to proselytize his nation, which in my opinion really went above and beyond natural “I’m not a fan of organized religion”. Touya’s past on our Earth pre-death has been completely ignored as we’ve gone along, but I do wonder if there was something in his past that led to this. I also suspect the author has an ax to grind. To be fair, Touya does say that he’s fine with people worshiping God in the way that they want – but he’ is very much against organized religion trying to flex its muscle, and says so vehemently. Where this becomes hilarious is that the God of this series – the one who resurrected Touya, which is why he can say “Sure I do” when people ask if he believes in God – comes down from on high to thank Touya for his speech decrying religion, and affirms to the somewhat terrified priestess watching that he really barely watches over the world at all – humans should seek to improve the world themselves, rather than rely on deities. The entire chapter is rather mind-boggling, and I wonder how it will read here in the West.

There is also a certain amount of backstory regarding the Phrase, which is not discovered through hard work and research, but instead given to us in an infodump by Ende, whose sole purpose in this series is to give exposition and look like Kaworu from Evangelion. The series’ faults are all still there – Touya is ridiculously overpowered, and finds out in this book he actually is a demigod; the BL author seems to have driven him into a complete “ew ew ew” rage whenever she’s remotely mentioned, which is irritating; and as I said before, despite the Phrase there seems to be no driving force behind this title beyond “watch what Touya does next”. That said, I’m content to do just that. The fiancees don’t get much to do here, but they all do kick ass in the final story, without Touya’s help, which pleased me. Oh yes, and Touya used his powers at Olga and Lyon’s nuptials for one of the sweetest wedding speeches you will ever see – it may be the highlight of the book. If you hated Smartphone, this won’t change your mind. If you loved Smartphone, unless you’re an Evangelical Christian, this will give you what you want.

Oh, and Touya also invents baseball. Because of course he does.

Gabriel Dropout, Vol. 1

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By Ukami. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks, serialization ongoing in the magazine Dengeki Daioh “g”. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Caleb Cook.

We’ve seen a lot of comedy manga lately from various publishers, but it’s been very hit and miss, which is not surprising given the nature of the beast. Comedy is hard, and comedy is also subjective. Sometimes something that’s enjoyable for a volume or two is going to be tiresome in the long haul (I’m looking at you, Aho Girl). Sometimes something that other readers find funny is going to rub you the wrong way, or you end up sympathizing too much with a group of characters who are clearly meant to be complete asses. That is, I suppose, theoretically possible with the cast of Gabriel Dropout, but I for one welcome a series that is not afraid to show us that both Heaven and Hell are combining to produce angels and devils that seem to specialize in being lazy, unproductive, pathetic, cruel, and completely unable to fulfill their original mission. If only as I find it very funny indeed.

Once again, the title is the premise. The girl on the cover is Gabriel, an Angel who graduated top of her class in Heaven, and is sent to Earth to learn how humans work so that she can help them in the best way possible. We do not, thankfully, see her arrival and fall – that would ruin the comedy. Instead, we simply cut to her, months later, down on Earth in a filthy apartment, playing RPGs, manga and rubbish stacked high, lazing around in her underwear. Her explanation for how this happened is as vague as it is self-serving, but I don’t care, as this sort of character is simply funny. She has a good snarky monologue in her head, can be the boke or tsukkomi as required, and clearly has the ability to be noble and upright but chooses not to. She’s assisted by Vignette, a demon who is essentially her mirror image – she needs to be doing bad things but has wound up being the student council president type.

These two alone would be a decent enough comedy, but we then add the ludicrously over the top Satanya, also a demon but far more egotistical, dramatic, and stupid. She’s the sort who brings her own downfall on herself, but it’s her reactions to everything that are wonderful. Then we see Gabriel’s fellow Angel Raphael, who is basically Mugi from K-On! if she were totally evil. Raphael lives to tease and troll, and therefore we see her most often with Satanya, who is the perfect victim. The premise of the series seems to be that the Angels and Devils would function much better of they were on each other’s team, though nobody is actually trying to do anything genuinely bad – Satanya regards throwing away a bottle without taking off the cap first as the height of villainy, after all.

Again, comedy is subjective, and I think some people might not enjoy this as much as I did. Certainly if you take Satanya’s suffering seriously the entire cast might simply be giant jerks. But I found Gabriel Dropout very funny, and am definitely adding it to my list of ongoing comedy manga. Whether it can survive the long haul… is a question the next volume will have to answer.

Sweet Blue Flowers, Vol. 1

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Sweet Blue Flowers, Omnibus 1Creator: Takako Shimura
Translator: John Werry
U.S. publisher: Viz Media
ISBN: 9781421592985
Released: September 2017
Original release: 2005-2006

Takako Shimura is probably best known for two manga series. The first, and my introduction to her work, is Wandering Son, a series which sympathetically explores some of the challenges faced by transgender and gender non-conforming youth. (Wandering Son is an incredibly important manga to me personally and I will forever lament the fact that it will likely never be released in English in its entirety.) The second manga is Sweet Blue Flowers, another series with queer themes, this time focusing on bisexual young woman and lesbian teenagers. While the anime adaptation of Sweet Blue Flowers has been readily available in English for years, the publication history of Shimura’s original manga has been more fraught. Originally translated in 2012 as part of the failed JManga digital initiative, the first volume was subsequently released by Digital Manga in a less than stellar ebook version after which the series languished unfinished. Surprisingly, Sweet Blue Flowers would be rescued by Viz Media, making it one of the first yuri manga to ever be released by the publisher. The first print omnibus of the Viz Signature edition of Sweet Blue Flowers, collecting the first and second volumes of the series originally published in Japan in 2005 and 2006, was easily one of my most anticipated debuts of 2017.

Fumi Manjome and Akira Okudaira were very close as children but the two girls fell out of touch after Fumi’s family moved away. Many years later they meet again by chance while commuting by train on the way to their first day of high school. They don’t actually realize who the other one is at first, but soon Fumi and Akira’s friendship is rekindled and their relationship blossoms once more. Since they attend different all-girls schools they don’t get a chance to see each other as much as they might like, though. Even so, both Akira and Fumi are faced with some similar trials which bring them together–making friends at their new schools and finding an extracurricular club to join that interests them among other things–but not everything is the same for them. Although complimentary, the two young women have strikingly different personalities, resulting in drastically different experiences and interactions. And while Akira doesn’t seem to have put much thought into romance, Fumi has recently had her heart broken. But now Fumi has fallen for an older student at her school, Yasuko Sugimoto, a young woman who is interested in Fumi but who is also dealing with an unrequited love of her own.

Sweet Blue Flowers, Omnibus 1, page 92Shimura’s artwork in Sweet Blue Flowers is simple and refined, but is still able to carry the emotional weight and expressiveness of the story. The focus of the manga’s illustrations is almost entirely on the characters themselves. Except for when the actual setting is intended to make an impact, such as the hallowed halls of a prestigious school or the imposing home of a distinguished family, backgrounds are minimalistic and sometimes even non-existent. Just enough is implied to give readers an impression of place and location. This technique, along with Shimura’s use of light and shadow, is reminiscent of intentionally minimal set design used in some theatrical performances which in turn nicely echoes the high school stage production of Wuthering Heights featured prominently in the first omnibus of Sweet Blue Flowers. The characters’ involvement with the play is an important part of the series both aesthetically and thematically. The connections to theater and creative performance arts present in Sweet Blue Flowers can also be found in Shimura’s other work, including but not limited to Wandering Son.

Sweet Blue Flowers is a wonderful series. The manga is emotionally resonate, with a realistic portrayal of the experiences of young women who love other young women. The characterizations and character development in Sweet Blue Flowers in particular are marvelous. Shimura effectively captures the nuances of a multitude of personalities and how they interact with one another, showing both individuals and their relationships as believably layered and convincingly complex. Sweet Blue Flowers is a relatively quiet story, but the emotional drama is powerful and the manga conveys a compelling sense of authenticity and honesty. I am loving the series and find that I am completely invested in the lives and well-being of Fumi, Akira, and the other characters as they navigate their adolescence. Life and relationships can be challenging and messy, something that Shimura does not shy away from in the manga. The young women in Sweet Blue Flowers grow and change, gaining maturity through their mistakes and missteps as well as personal clarity as they slowly discover their own identities. Sweet Blue Flowers is a worthwhile and lovely work; I’m so glad that it’s finally receiving a proper release in English.

The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, Vol. 10

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By Nagaru Tanigawa and Puyo. Released in Japan as “Nagato Yuki-chan no Shoushitsu” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialized in the magazine Young Ace. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Paul Starr.

And so we come to the end of the Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan, and it feels thematically appropriate that Yuki doesn’t exactly disappear but she definitely takes a back seat in this final volume, entirely devoted to Ryouko’s decision to move to Canada to live with her parents and go to college there. It feels appropriate because, no offense to Puyo, but Kyon, Yuki and their relationship have been the weak part of this title. Yuki’s been OK, and I’ve enjoyed seeing her gain a certain level of confidence, but Kyon is a pale shadow of his self from the main series. They only shone in the amnesia arc, which featured what was essentially Yuki from the main series crossing over.

No, the big achievement of this series has always been Ryouko Asakura, written off as a villain in Haruhi proper (and don’t get me wrong, she made a wonderful villain), then turned into a comedy punchline by Puyo in his other Haruhi series,the gag manga Haruhi-chan (which is still running, by the way – Vol. 11 comes out here in December), but in the Nagato spinoff she became the main reason to watch it, easily having the most depth and emotional pull while also gaining an alternate characterization as Yuki’s “mother” figure who is also overly stressed and worrying to the point where, when being around her, Haruhi ends up being the deadpan straight man figure.

Ah, yes, Ryouko and Haruhi. Folks who’ve read my other reviews of this series know that I’ve shipped them almost as soon as they had significant scenes together, and the tenth volume, while not, of course, making anything canon, is written as if the author read my reviews and said “let’s see what I can do with that”. Being unable to tell Yuki straight away about her decision to move, Ryouko opens up to Haruhi, who alternates between being a sounding board and being a complete goofball (trying to stand on the exercise ball, and the goose egg punchline that follows, was amazing). Haruhi immediately says she will fly to Canada to visit Ryouko – her “free room and board” line implying she’ll just stay at Ryouko’s – and when Ryouko does eventually fly off, Haruhi’s farewell is given a full page, as is Ryouko’s response – more than Yuki!

We then get the epilogue, where Haruhi ends up being the only one who picks up Ryouko at the airport returning from college. There is a brief attempt at heterosexuality, but it’s almost laughable – Haruhi had absolutely no idea Koizumi liked her till he confessed, her “try to make me fall for you!” line implies she hasn’t yet, and Ryouko points out it sounds like she’s just trying to dodge the entire issue. Koizumi is, of course, nowhere near the finale, which is composed of the four “main” character finally meeting again after so long – Kyon and Yuki, now living together (though, despite Ryouko’s fervent imaginations, not with child) and Ryouko and Haruhi, who may not be an explicit romantic pairing but certainly are given as much canon teasing as is humanly possible.

So, in the end, is The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki-chan worth it? It certainly was to me, but as I’m sure you noticed, I wasn’t really concentrating on the main plot. The art improved as it went on, but that does mean it starts as “very mediocre”. In the end, I recommend it to Haruhi fans who want to see a different side to Haruhi, one that is milder and more mature but still clearly her. I also recommend it to Ryouko fanatics, but honestly I’d hope they were already reading it. I enjoyed some volumes more than others, and it could have been shorter, but I adored the final volume.

Yokai Rental Shop, Vol. 1

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By Shin Mashiba. Released in Japan as “Yokai Nii-san” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine GFantasy. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Amanda Haley, Adapted by Julia Kinsman.

Those who are familiar with this author’s previous series, Nightmare Inspector (released by Viz, though I think Yen Press has the digital rights now), will be very familiar with the sort of series this is. There’s a mysterious shop where people come to have wishes granted that they can’t quite achieve using normal means. An eccentric shopkeeper hooks them up with a yokai monster that will theoretically give them what they want. In reality, of course, almost all the customers are selfish and warped individuals who need to get what’s coming to them instead, and karmic retribution is not all that far off. Into this fairly typical setup walks Hiiragi, a salaryman who’s just found he has a half-brother – who turns out to be the proprietor of said shop. His heartwarming meeting with his brother instead becomes a long stream of reaction takes as Hiiragi slowly realizes who that brother really is.

There are two very good reasons to read this series. The first, as with the artist’s other series, is the compelling artwork, which draws the eye in and entertains you even when the story being told is predictable. I especially liked Karasu’s overdramatic dynamic entry, as he drops into his shop from the ceiling for no apparent reason other than to look cool (which honestly, given he’s almost totally covered in bandages, I think he has going for him anyway). And the yokai look scary when they need yo, also important given this is at heart a horror sort of series. The other big plus is Hiiragi, who starts off somewhat nebbish but gets better as he reacts against the supernatural events going on around him. His inner tsundere comes out when he’s dealing with his brother, who he immediately tries to force to eat healthier, and it leads to some very funny situations. He also can drive the plot due to pigheaded stubbornness, always a valued trait in a straight man protagonist.

The downside is that there’s not much in these stories that you haven’t seen done elsewhere many times before. It’s an anthology of “be careful what you wish for” stories. I’d joked that this was something of a gender-reversed xxxHOLIC, and the two do share similarities, but unfortunately Karasu just isn’t as interesting or funny as Yuko was, though he tries. And the fact that all the customers have, for the most part, unlikeable and selfish motivations makes it pretty hard to root for anyone – even the bully who wants something to help him avoid getting beaten up breaks the rules the moment he gets a chance to. You’re left only caring about our heroes, which is not what you want to see in a horror anthology manga.

Still, overall the good outweighs the bad, and the series is only four volumes long, which is about right if you’re doing a shop with the customer-of-the-week. If you like hot supernatural guys who makes bad things happen to bad people, or just like cool art, Yokai Rental Shop is worth picking up.

Also, it gets bonus points for the “Fake news!” translation/adaptation.

How a Realist Hero Rebuilt the Kingdom, Vol. 4

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By Dojyomaru and Fuyuyuki. Released in Japan by Overlap, Inc. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Sean McCann.

Realist Hero continues to keep my interest even as my teeth grind more and more at the mindset of the author and his characters, which is to its credit. Certainly there are similar isekais that did not hold my attention and have since been dropped (hi, Death March). It’s even more impressive given that, for the second volume in a row, this feels like a setup book, putting various things in place, introducing new technology that will no doubt be needed down the road, and (at last) finally answering one of the lingering questions of the series: why on Earth did the former King abdicate to Souma after merely having one conversation with him? And for fans of the romances, you not only get a new queen added to the mix, but Souma finally comes to terms with the fact that he is in this world for good, and that he is worthy of being loved, and is able to take that next step.

The girl on the cover is Roroa, who we’ve seen crop up in cameos before this book, here to save the day (despite Souma completely ruining her planned overdramatic entrance). Roroa is, in many ways, an Osaka stereotype transferred to the fantasy world: she not only has the sort-of-Southern accent, but is also far more of a merchant than she ever is a Princess. Yes, she’s the Princess in Amadonia, which is now fully incorporated into Elfrieden (which means the new name of the country is Friedonia, which I refuse to believe is by accident) and has presented herself as a prospective bride, Like other prospective brides we’ve seen in these sorts of series, she runs rings around Souma till he gives in. That said, she does look like a good addition, and it will be nice to see Souma try not to juggle economics quite as much. Oh yes, we also get a mad scientist girl, though she won’t be part of the harem. She is very much in the “ditzy teen genius” mode.

There is an extended plot here regarding slavery in this world, which I was less happy with. I accept that slavery in this fantasy world does not carry with it the baggage that it does in our own world, and that it seems to be more indentured servitude. But both Souma and the author seem to treat slavery as an intellectual problem to be solved, rather than as a monstrous evil. This is not unique to the isekai realm, of course, and I should be grateful that the protagonist doesn’t simply say “oh, slavery exists here” and shrug his shoulders like some others. It does add to my biggest beef with this series: it can be as dispassionate as its hero is, and as I’ve said before, seems like it’s one of those “dark/grey/independent” fics you always saw in Harry Potter written by teenagers who wondered what the world would be like if everything were more badass. (Hint: it involves hating Weasleys.) I like books to be fiction. I am less happy when they are thought experiments.

That said, when the book concentrates on its harem cliches, such as the relationship between Souma and Liscia, it may be less original, but it makes it more human. I hope we get a bit more of this going forward. I also hope the demon realm invades soon, as I really need Book 5 to not involve puttering around making new roads and discussing the Helsinki Accords. Mildly recommended to isekai fans.

Until Your Bones Rot, Vol. 1

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When Lois Duncan passed away in 2016, fans and critics alike fondly remembered her as the author of I Know What You Did Last Summer, the first great psychological thriller for teens. Duncan’s story took a tried-and-true plot and retooled it for younger readers, focusing on a quartet of teens who commit and conceal a crime, only to be stalked by an anonymous avenger. While the plot was pure potboiler, Duncan’s characterizations were remarkably realistic, convincingly depicting the confusion, uncertainty, and rashness of the teenage mind under extreme duress.

Until Your Bones Rot explores similar terrain as I Know What You Did Last Summer. Bones’ teen protagonists — Shintaro, Akira, Haruko, Ryu, and Tsubaki — are bound by a gruesome crime they committed when they were eleven years old. Artist Yae Utsumi doesn’t immediately reveal what, exactly, they did, though he plants tantalizing clues throughout volume one: a fleeting glimpse of a nighttime ritual, a nightmarish vision of a bloodied face. The plot is set in motion by an anonymous phone call threatening to expose the group unless they meet the caller’s demands. Though the five initially work together to protect their secret, fault lines soon develop within the group, particularly between Akira — the group’s alpha male — and Shintaro, the odd man out.

Utsumi handles the set-up with finesse, but his tone is less assured. Some passages feel like they’ve been ripped from Love Hina, with bikini-clad girls fawning over the nebbishy Shintaro; other passages read more like MPD Psycho, with characters doing disgusting things to dead bodies; and still other passages play out like a Very Special Episode of The OC in which one character silently copes with an abusive boyfriend. None of these scenes feel like they belong to the same story; about the only common thread that binds them is Utsumi’s fanservice, which gratuitously eroticizes a scene of sexual assault.

It’s a pity that the first volume is so uneven, as Utsumi makes a game attempt to create believable characters. Tsubaki and Shintaro, in particular, behave like real teenagers whose emotional and sexual attraction to one another is so overwhelming that they don’t know how to have a normal conversation or behave like friends; their one-on-one interactions suggest that both were deeply scarred by their participation in the murder, but lack the words — or the maturity — to say how it effected them, instead turning to each other for physical comfort. That’s a level of psychological nuance that Lois Duncan herself might have appreciated, even if Utsumi takes a few narrative shortcuts to establish the dynamic between Tsubaki and Shintaro.

And that, in a nutshell, is what makes Until Your Bones Rot so frustrating: Utsumi clearly understands the teenage mind, but can’t decide if he’s writing a finely observed psychological thriller or a junior-league Saw. The push-pull of these two different storytelling modes robs the most gory scenes of their horror and the most dramatic scenes of their poignancy, yielding a muddled stew of blood, boobs, and tears. Someone should make him read I Know What You Did Last Summer for a few pointers on how to walk the line between Grand Guignol and Afterschool Special more convincingly.

UNTIL YOUR BONES ROT, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY YAE UTSUMI • TRANSLATION BY URSULA KU • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED 16+ (SEX, PARTIAL NUDITY, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE)

Chihayafuru, Vol. 4

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By Yuki Suetsugu. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Be Love. Released in North America digitally by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Ko Ransom.

The sign of a good series is that you care about the characters as if they were real people, and take joy in their triumphs and grieve at their setbacks. This can sometimes backfire, however, when you see the setbacks coming and think to yourself “Oh noooooo!”. The moment I saw Chihaya’s head throb, I knew immediately what was going to happen by the end of the volume, and it hurt. This is why this review is running somewhat late, because I really did not want to read what I knew was going to happen. It comes after a half volume of small triumphs and achievements, as they quality for the National Tournament, win over their faculty adviser, and slowly come together as a team, each character getting a little bit more to do and more for us to identify with. Then I saw that throbbing head. And I said “…she’s sick.” And yep. SO FRUSTRATING.

Arata gets the cover this time around, and fortunately also gets a chunk of the narrative, as we get to see the strong relationship he had with his grandfather from his POV, helping to explain why he was so devastated he abandoned Karuta. It’s portrayed very realistically: his grandfather is a vibrant, active guy who loves Karuta, but then he has a stroke, which brings memory loss and rehabilitation. And of course, this being a manga and thus obliged to observe the occasional cliche, he goes to the tournament and leaves his grandfather alone for a few hours. We all know how that’s going to turn out. It really helps bring Arata into focus and remind us that he is eventually going to be a major player in this series again, and I imagine seeing Chihaya and company here will act as a catalyst.

As for Chihaya, she does her best, and tries hard to hide her illness form everyone, but in the end they have to forfeit after she collapses. Naturally, after waking back up, she’s completely devastated, and I suspect Vol. 5 is going to have a lot of depression and self-hatred. We’ve been seeing a lot of sports titles over here lately, and usually when there’s something like this it’s a physical injury, such as a sprained ankle or somesuch. Of course, they usually deal with physical sports such as basketball or volleyball. When you have something like Karuta, which is a lot more physical than I expected but still played seated and relying primarily on memorization and strategy, a fever or nasty cold can be just as bad as that sprained ankle. It’s to the credit of the team that they kept playing after she had to forfeit, but I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll pick up after the tournament and deal with the fallout.

Chihayafuru remains one of the best digital titles Kodansha is releasing at the moment, and I hope my review of Vol. 5 (already out) will come sooner rather than later.

The Faraway Paladin: The Lord of the Rust Mountains

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By Kanata Yanagino and Kususaga Rin. Released in Japan as “Saihate no Paladin” by Overlap. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by James Rushton.

I’m reviewing this as one giant book, but it actually came out as two books here, called ‘Primus’ and ‘Secundus’ – in fact, Amazon thinks that those are the titles, and forgot about the whole Rust Mountains thing. It works better to see them as one big book, though, which is what the author intended. The first volume simply stops, and the second picks up right where it left off – there’s no real attempt to separate them. As for the plot, our square-jawed hero and his elf friend are here to take down an ancient dragon, helped out by some old friends and some new dwarves, including one who becomes Williams’s squire, despite being of royal blood. He is told repeatedly that if he fights the dragon now he will die, and he should gain more power and influence by letting a few people be killed so he can take it down more easily. As you might imagine, that is not how William rolls.

William is the star of this series, and the narrative fits itself around him, meaning it too tends to be like he is – straightforward, a bit humorless, and painfully, PAINFULLY earnest. This is actually the main selling point of The Faraway Paladin, which is miles away from any other fantasy light novel we have out there – there’s not an ounce of cynicism or irony in it. William is Good and True, and he can do impossible things thanks to the help of his friends, the training of his parents, and MUSCLES, which he points out are awesome several times throughout the book. The closest we get to cynicism is the villain, who is a very well-done ancient dragon, and would very much like to tempt William into allying with him to that he can sow chaos. He should know better.

The book reads quickly, and the action sequences are very well done, with no confusion about what is happening at any time. I was a little annoyed with the introduction of a tsundere elf girl, whose sole purpose seems to be to get rid of the ho yay that existed between William and Menel (there’s a lot of teasing of William for not having found a girlfriend yet, further driving the point home). Al is a good addition to the cast – it fits that someone like William gets a squire that’s almost as serious-minded as he is, and the two work well together. The translation is also good, though the Kindle version I have has both the dragon and the Gods speaking in bold text, which can get very confusing when three of them are all speaking at once – perhaps one should have been italicized instead.

Again, if you want to read a light novel but are thoroughly sick of the cliches of the genre, this is an absolute must-read. It’s the Lord of the Rings starring Superman, basically. I look forward to seeing where it goes next.

Juni Taisen: Zodiac War

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By NISIOISIN and Hikaru Nakamura. Released in Japan by Shueisha. Released in North America by Viz Media. Translated by Nathan A. Collins.

I wasn’t sure what to make of this when I first heard of it, and now that I’ve finished it, I’m still not quite sure. It was written two years ago, and the anime is just coming out now, so it seems like it wasn’t written solely to be a TV tie-in (Nisio has done those before, writing books in the Death Note and xxxHOLIC franchises). But honestly, it doesn’t have the same strong authorial voice that I’ve grown used to from the Monogatari and Zaregoto series – if nothing else, it has far fewer puns. If I’m going to be honest it feels like it’s a book that was written because a bit of cash was needed, and someone said “can you write us a battle royale-style book that we could potentially use later?”. Even Nakamura’s illustrations are a bit disappointing, as they’re basically just character design – if you’ve seen the cover, you’ve seen the illustrations.

That said, this isn’t that bad a book, and it gets better as it goes along. As I mentioned, the plot is essentially a Battle Royale, as 12 fighters of various types and backgrounds, all seemingly connected with the Chinese Zodiac, have been brought together to fight each other to the death, with the last one standing getting anything they wish. At first it seems like the morality discussions we get, both via internal monologue and external dialogue, are merely padding while we wait for the battles, but as the book goes on it becomes clearer that the battles are padding for the morality discussion. This should not be a surprise, given this author – even in this book, which does not feature too many incredibly talkative people, there’s still a lot of discussion about the nature of good and evil, and what it means to be a good person.

The nature of the series means that even talking about what a character says towards the end of the book can be spoiling, given it’s a ‘kill someone off every chapter’ sort of book. I will say that it’s exactly as advertised – the start of the book said 11 of the 12 would end up dead, and sure enough, that’s what happens. This includes the worst of the bad guys and the most sympathetic of the good guys. It does seem to indicate that, while wars are bad, pacifism is not necessarily the best ideal you can strive for – one of the characters, Monkey, reminds me an awful lot of Tsubasa Hanekawa, and that may be intentional. My favorite chapters were towards the end, as two of the better fleshed-out fighters discuss doing the right thing, and it’s the only time in the book you actually want to see more than one person survive – for the most part, these aren’t nice people.

Watchers of the anime will likely get even more out of this series – Nisio gave each fighter a one-page “biography” in the book, but the anime is expanding said biography to give a lot more backstory to everyone. Likewise, there’s a sequel manga running at the moment in Jump, which I believe Viz has also licensed. And they just announced a sequel novel to this book, with (presumably) a new cast. So in the end maybe this was meant to be work-for-hire to create a franchise. Still, it’s not without interest.

H.P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories

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If you admire the fecundity of H.P. Lovecraft’s imagination but not the turgidity of his prose, you might find Gou Tanabe’s manga adaptations of The Hound and Other Stories an agreeable alternative to the originals. Tanabe sticks close to the source material while pruning away the florid language characteristic of Lovecraft’s writing, offering more polished — and, frankly, unnerving — versions of three early works: “The Temple,” first published in 1925, “The Hound,” from 1922, and “The Nameless City,” from 1921.

Tanabe is no stranger to literary adaptations; he’s also tackled works by Maxim Gorky (“Twenty-Six Men and a Girl”), Franz Kafka (“A Hunger Artist”), and folklorist Lafcadio Hearn (“The Story of O-Tei”). Lovecraft’s writing, however, occupies a unique place in Tanabe’s oeuvre, as he’s published adaptations of other Lovecraft stories — “The Color Out of Space” (1927) and “The Haunter of the Dark” (1935)” — and expanded Lovecraft’s novella “At the Mountains of Madness” into an ongoing, multi-volume series. Reflecting on his fascination with Lovecraft, Tanabe reverentially describes him as a “priest of his own Mythos,” capable of summoning “unknowable darkness” on the page. “By illustrating his stories,” Tanabe declares, “I intend to become an apostle of the gods he made” (172).

And while Tanabe’s sentiments are a little purple, his affinities with Lovecraft are evident in his artful translation of words into images. Consider “The Temple,” a tense drama set aboard a German U-boat in the waning days of World War II. While Lovecraft’s narrator baldly ascribes the crew’s irrational behavior to “peasant ignorance” and “soft, womanish” dispositions, Tanabe focuses instead on the extraordinary claustrophobia of their environment, cramming every panel with ducts, pipes, valves, levers, and gauges; the walls of the ship seem to press in on the characters as their disabled submarine plunges to its doom. That sense of entombment is heightened by Tanabe’s stark use of tone in the story’s final act, when the light emanating from the ship barely pierces the jet-black depths of the ocean. A fleeting glimpse of a dolphin — normally a symbol of innocent playfulness — becomes a sinister omen when lit from below, its smiling visage transformed into a sneer.

Tanabe also demonstrates a flair for drawing lost cities, evoking the grandeur and mystery of ancient civilizations through sheer scale: his temples and monuments are so large that they spill off the page, while their interiors are cramped and dark, more cave than castle. In “The Nameless City,” for example, we follow the narrator through a labyrinth of dark tunnels, his torch briefly illuminating objects and surfaces that hint at the true nature of the city’s inhabitants. These panels culminate in an extraordinary two-page spread revealing a Romanesque fresco that, on closer inspection, is populated not with demons, angels, and men, but reptilian monsters arranged in concentric circles around a Christ-like figure.

The revelation of who lived there — and how they treated their human subjects — provides a moment of thematic continuity with the other two stories in the anthology. As writer Robert M. Price explains in his forward to The New Lovecraft Circle, Lovecraft’s heroes seek forbidden knowledge, “gradual[ly] piecing together… clues whose eventual destination one does not know.” Price elaborates:

The knowledge, once gained, is too great for the mind of man. It is Promethean, Faustian knowledge. Knowledge that destroys in the moment of enlightenment, a Gnosis of damnation, not of salvation. One would never have contracted with Mephistopheles to gain it. One rather wishes it were not too late to forget it. (xviii–xix)

At the same time, however, the narrator’s terrible discovery exemplifies another important strand in Lovecraft’s writing: a sense of cosmic indifferentism, the idea that the universe is, in Lovecraft’s words, “only a furtive arrangement of elementary particles” that “presage of transition to chaos.” As Lovecraft observed,

The human race will disappear. Other races will appear and disappear in turn. The sky will become icy and void, pierced by the feeble light of half-dead stars. Which will also disappear. Everything will disappear. And what human beings do is just as free of sense as the free motion of elementary particles. (Riemer)

Viewed in this light, the rendering of the fresco seems less like a simple artistic choice by Tanabe than an expression of Lovecraft’s own cosmic indifferentism. By parodying the Christian iconography enshrined on Medieval cathedral walls, ceilings, and portals, Tanabe points both the futility of belief — it didn’t save the monsters, after all — and the inevitability that mankind will repeat the cycle of birth, life, and death that the monstrous fresco depicts.

And if all of this sounds like the ruminations of a freshman philosophy major, fear not; The Hound and Other Stories can still be enjoyed on its own merits. All three stories are well paced and vividly rendered, each embodying the Romantic definition of the sublime — “all that stuns the soul, all that imprints a feeling of terror”— while offering the kind of satisfying twists that pulp fiction readers craved in the 1920s. And for those more invested in the Lovecraft mythos, The Hound provides an opportunity to revisit these stories afresh, seeing them through the eyes of an artist who has dedicated his career to finding the poetry, the mystery, and the weirdness in Lovecraft’s words. Recommended. 

References

Price, Robert M. “Introduction.” The New Lovecraft Circle. Del Rey, 2004, xiii-xxvi.

Riemer, Andrew. “A Nihilist’s Hope Against Hope.” Sydney Morning Herald, 28 June 2003, http://www.smh.com.au/articles/2003/06/27/1056683892274.html. Accessed on 11 Oct. 2017.

Tanabe, Gou. H.P. Lovecraft’s The Hound and Other Stories. Translated by Zack Davisson, Dark Horse, 2017.

Spirit Circle, Vol. 1

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By Satoshi Mizukami. Released in Japan by Shonen Gahosha, serialized in the magazine Young King Ours. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Jocelyne Allen, Adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane.

I greatly enjoyed Mizukami’s last series to be published over here, Lucifer and the Biscuit Hammer, and so was definitely looking forward to this. The first volume is very much a manga of two halves. In the first half we set up the situation and meet out heroes and find out what grudges they may have against each other. That said, this is also a tale of reincarnation. And so the second half of the manga is seeing Fuuta’s past lives, which are various types of tragic so far, and seeing him grow as he slowly starts to remember things. Being a first volume, I’m unsure whether the bulk of the series will be the war between Fuuta and Kouko or the flashback lives – hopefully it will continue to be somewhat balanced – but it’s off to a pretty good start, and is only six volumes, so is unlikely to wear out its welcome.

Our hero, as seen on the cover, is Fuuta, a nebbish dude who can see spirits. Our heroine is the girl on the BACK cover, Kouko, a new mysterious transfer student ™ who initially seems rather cool and standoffish but once Fuuta gets to know her proves to be much worse. Because after she throws him headfirst down a flight of stairs (as you do), he suddenly finds himself flashing back to his previous lives, reincarnation style. No, they aren’t long-lost soulmates – in fact, long-lost enemies is a better term for it, and in the two lives that we see in this initial volume, Fuuta’s past selves make life miserable for Kouko’s past selves – or in some cases simply kill her outright. Helping the two of them are two ghostly familiars – hers is older and serene, his is the bubble pinkette on the cover.

The familiars are a weak part of the book so far – Juno, the pink girl, seems to fulfill no function Except to be bubbly and cute in a series with two rather dour leads. The strong part of the book are the previous lives – the second one in particular could almost be a different, separate manga, and shows Fuuta’s rather bitter and cynical past self, cursed by the witch he killed (Kouko, of course, who was literally making a medicine to save a village, but hey, witch) and living a rather desolate and depressing life, till he is redeemed to an extent by an abandoned child. I’m not actually sure if Kouko and Fuuta will get set up romantically, by the way – certainly she’s not fond of him right now, and the past lives both seem to hint of a connection to some other girl (who, if she’s in the present, we haven’t seen yet). Indeed, a romance may not be the point of this at all.

This first volume does its job quite well – it’s good, and I want to read the next one. That’s really all you can ask for in a new series.