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Reviews

Kounodori: Dr. Stork, Vol. 1

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By You Suzunoki. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Weekly Morning. Released in North America digitally by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Erin Procter.

Despite occasionally feeling overwhelmed by new titles, I am grateful to the publishers putting out digital-only series for choosing some series that are clearly experiments, titles that would not have a remote chance of being licensed in print over here but can perhaps reach some kind of an audience digitally. We’re seeing long-running sports titles, some experimental josei, and now we have Kounodori, a series from Kodansha’s flagship seinen magazine about an obstetrician who helps expecting families when he’s not busy being a secret, mysterious piano player. Back in the day, I used to go buy a random Japanese manga magazine from Kinokuniya, crack it open, and see what was in there that we weren’t getting here. This is a classic example. It’s episodic rather than having a continuous plot, goes in for dramatic lectures and births rather than fight scenes, and the art style has characters whose looks are less cute and more natural.

“But is it good?”, I hear you cry. I’d say yes, it definitely is good, provided that you come at the series aware that at its core, this is a melodrama. In fact, it pretty much verges on soap opera. There’s little humor, and those who dislike authority figures moralizing over people in difficult circumstances may dislike the first story especially. But I’d say overall I really enjoyed reading it. The overdramaticness and small stakes help to give it a tense feel that goes along with the plot, as the story is basically “what new crisis is putting a pregnant mother in jeopardy?” over and over again. We start with a poor mother, abandoned by her boyfriend, who has not had any prenatal care until she’s ready to give birth – she is dressed down rather sharply by our titular doctor. The longest story in the book has a wife giving birth prematurely, with all the dangers inherent in that process, and lots of discussion of what’s safest for the mother and the child. A chapter on gonorrhea shows us the dangers of adulterous guys, particularly when their cheating causes harm to their unborn children. Lastly, we get a stripper who needs to have a C-section, and is horrified as she says it would ruin her career.

I’ll be honest, I’m still not quite sure why he also moonlights as a piano player, except to make this something other than a standard medical drama. We do get a bit of Kounodori’s past – he grew up as an orphan, and was bullied – but that mostly serves to show us how he’s grown into a fine compassionate man. There’s also a lot of emotions in this, with the exception of Kounodori himself. The husbands are twitchy, the wives are yelling, and his fellow obstetrician looks to constantly be on the verge of breaking down. And at times the moralizing that Kounodori is prone to can be annoying. But for the most part, I really enjoyed reading a type of series I never thought I’d see over here. I suspect, given its ‘story of the week’ nature, that you can dip into the books at any volume, but the first is always a good place to start.

Bluesteel Blasphemer, Vol. 2

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By Ichirou Sakaki and Tera Akai. Released in Japan by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Kevin Steinbach.

In general, I tend to divide up books to review on this site into four categories: Great, Adequate/Good, Adequate/Bad, and Bad. The first and the last are obviously the easiest to review, as there are any number of things that you can say about them to show why you think they’re worth reading (or, in the case of the bad books, not worth reading). Adequate/Bad is tougher, but at least you can usually get away with a laundry list of things that the title is doing wrong. But oh dear, those books which are good but that’s about it. You really have to work at the review, because “good but that’s about it” makes the reader not want to read a book. But they *are* good, and very readable. It’s just there’s really nothing that stands out and makes you go “wow, that made buying this book worth my time’. Such a series is Bluesteel Blasphemer, which is adequate. HIGHLY adequate.

This second volume picks up (after a short setup prologue) right where we left off. Yukinari is settling in uncomfortably as the new erdgod of Friedland, and trying to figure out how to make the village prosper, less by sacrifices and more by irrigation and trade. He’s accompanied by Dasa, who fulfills both the Rei Ayanami clone and Clingy Jealous Girl types in one; Berta, whose love/worship of Yukinari continues to be vaguely disturbing – it makes sense for her character given how she was raised, but I’d really like her to get a hobby or two; and Fiona, the de facto mayor of the village, who sometimes acts as a tease but more often fills the straight man role. We also add Ulrike, who is the main familiar of the erdgod the next village over, a giant forest/tree who uses humans whose lifespan is at an end to become its familiars (Ulrike is seen in the prologue, a cute young kid who dies by getting impaled on a tree. Fortunately, she was impaled by the right tree). Together, they fight against a cadre of grumpy priests whose job is suddenly gone, and some grumpy soldiers who are still trying to be zealots.

If I were to pinpoint things I didn’t care for with this book, it would be the same as the last – the harem stuff feels false and tacked on, and I wish it would go away. Other than that, this is a very smooth, easy to read book. I enjoyed the motivation of the other erdgod, and how a village that doesn’t have much beyond LOTS OF WOOD might turn to it as an alternative to more modern-day thinking like medicine. I liked the examination of what happens to the priests after Yukinari takes over, particularly in regards to the orphanage that suddenly doesn’t have villagers paying to feed its orphans. I liked the vaguely evil foreshadowing going on between the evil old priest and his stacked alchemist which will clearly become the climax to the final book. And the slingshot was hilarious.

So this is a good, solid book that fans of the light novel genre will enjoy, particularly if they like Kamen Rider-style books. But if you’re thinking “I need to cut back on light novels, what would be good?”, this series also comes to mind immediately. I’m happy it’s not 20+ volumes, I can tell you that.

Plum Crazy! Tales of a Tiger-Striped Cat, Vol. 1

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By Natsumi Hoshino | Published by Seven Seas

It is definitely a good time to be a manga fan, particularly if you (like me) are fond of niche genres like food manga, sports manga, and cat manga. The latest entry into that final category is Plum Crazy! Tales of a Tiger-Striped Cat and, predictably, it’s cute.

Plum lives with the Nakarai family, including a woman who teaches traditional Japanese dance and her teenage son, Taku. One day, Plum brings home a kitten in distress, and what follows are her efforts to help take care of the kitten while said kitten (soon named Snowball) is more interested in administering chomps.

With the exception of a few pages of 4-koma comics at the back of the volume, Plum has no internal dialogue, but her actions and expressive face convey her thoughts well. She does typical cat-like things, but she’s far from ordinary. For example, not only does she actually listen to her owner’s directives, but she actually complies. Snowball is more realistically temperamental, only cuddling with Plum when she feels unwell and otherwise tormenting her until another cat shows up, at which point Snowball is jealous of their playtime.

Really, there isn’t a lot of plot here. The only thing that comes close is the Nakarai family learning valuable lessons about keeping a clean litterbox, or the dangers of heatstroke, or the fact that cats don’t like wearing reindeer antlers and posing for pictures. To all of these I give a big “duh!,” and it’s somewhat frustrating to see people so cavalier about these and other topics—they don’t seem to worry about a tiny kitten wandering the neighborhood, for example—but I guess part of the point of the manga was to be educational.

At any rate, this was an enjoyable addition to the roster of cat manga available in English, and I plan to continue with it.

Plum Crazy! is ongoing in Japan, where sixteen volumes have been released. Seven Seas will publish the second volume in English in September.

Infinite Dendrogram: The Beginning of Possibility

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By Sakon Kaidou and Taiki. Released in Japan by Hobby Japan. Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by Andrew Hodgson and Nick Nomura.

The cliche has become that every single light novel released over here in the past four years or so has been a variation on “fighting monsters in a fantasy role-playing game”, but each of them have had their own little variations to separate them in some way. There’s the old ‘trapped in the game’ variation, like Sword Art Online or Log Horizon. We’ve had ‘the mechanics of the world are game-oriented but it’s just a fantasy’ like Danmachi and Death March. We’ve had ‘resurrected into fantasy worlds that are clearly based around cliches’ like KonoSuba and Isekai Smartphone. It’s been rare that we’ve actually seen a light novel that is just ‘let’s watch the hero play a new VRMMO game’. Playing to Win is closest, but even there the conceit is not that of the average guy playing a game, it’s that Ichiro is a arrogant rich guy. With Infinite Dendrogram, we finally have a book that (at least so far) is only ‘let’s explore the new game’.

Our hero is not playing the game the day it comes out – he had to study to pass college exams first. So it’s about a year and a half later, and he’s well behind his older brother, who’s been somewhat impatiently waiting for him to join. Once he does, Reiji (aka Ray in the game) picks out his weapon, his home base, and his Embryo, which is basically a sentient weapon/defense that grows along with the player’s character. His turns out to be a sword (later a halberd) which can also become a cute girl (because of course – come on, it is still a light novel) who essentially serves as his partner – though sometimes reluctantly, especially when dealing with zombies and the like. Together they try to level up while dealing with player killers, the fact that the home base they chose is rapidly losing its population due to wars, and the usual inconveniences that come up in a game.

The idea is that the game has more variations than almost any other known to man – we see a journalist as one of the minor characters, not a normal character type in a game like this, and one player is even a pimp with his own succubus. (This is actually the most amusing part of the book, as the player is underage, so his succubus specializes in things like really soothing backrubs because of the age restrictions). That said, Ray and Nemesis (his Embryo) are fighting types, and while there are indeed signs that he is a Very Special Hero indeed, for the most part we see him fight, explore, learn, and fight some more. The fights are quite well done, and the book as a whole reads very well. If there’s one thing that disappointed me, it’s that I was expecting more of a twist, I suppose? There are suggestions that the game is meant for some higher purpose, but here in the first book it’s just a lot of cool fights, RPG exploring, and endless bear puns. There’s no ‘gimmick’ yet.

Still, if you like this genre, and want something uncomplicated, this is an eminently readable book. Recommended for light novel and RPG fans.

Oresama Teacher, Vol. 22

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By Izumi Tsubaki. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by JN Productions.

After the previous volume’s ups and downs, I’m pleased to say that this Oresama Teacher is back on target with a very strong entry, as we discover just who has been impersonating Super Bun. It’s not exactly a surprise, particularly once you realize the evil doppelganger is not all that evil. The rest of the volume is devoted to the graduation of the third years, including Okegawa (at last), and Hanabusa, who this volume is really all about. Because yes, spoiler, he was the Super Bun impersonator. We finally get a lot of answers in this book regarding just what he was planning to do and why the Student Council is filled with so many broken people. And throughout it all we get Mafuyu, running forward no matter what as always, showing off the qualities that make her one of my favorite shoujo heroines.

The best scenes in the volume, as I said, revolve around Hanabusa. He’s always been a somewhat ambiguous villain, and the reason for that is that he’s not really much of a villain at all. The revelation that the Student Council members, with a few exceptions (Momochi, who’s still recovering from events of the last few books, and Shinobu and Wakana, who luckily fit the bill anyway) are there to be PROTECTED rather than to be the PROTECTORS turns a lot of events in the series on their ear. It also shows how far Hanabusa himself has come, as now he feels it’s safe enough to leave his friends behind and go to school in Tokyo. The final scene in the book with Mafuyu, where he thanks her for everything she did the past year and says she’s his hero, is one of the two scenes in the book that made me choke up (the other being the ending to the hide and seek game).

As for the rest of the cast, Takaomi once again takes a back seat except to provide helpful advice. Hayasaka is also not given much to do, but that’s fine as I’m assuming that the finale, which should be in a few more volumes, will feature him heavily. Okegawa gets more focus, though, mostly as he too is moving on, though I have a feeling we’ll see more of him in future volumes than Hanabusa. His relationship with “Morse” has always been subtly different from all the others, and I felt that if this is the last we see of him, it got a good sendoff. And of course there are any number of hilarious moments here – it’s no Nozaki-kun, but it acquits itself admirably, especially with the various alternate Super-Bun masks and the over the top reactions to everything.

We don’t get this series all too often since it’s caught up in Japan, but I always enjoy each volume we do get. I have a feeling it may be wrapping up in 2-3 more volumes, but for now we have this. Go get it.

Log Horizon: The Larks Take Flight

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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.

After spending the 6th book with Akatsuki and the other women of Akiba, and the 7th book with Shiroe and Naotsugu and their heist movie, this book continues the trend by turning to the rest of Log Horizon, the junior members. And for the most part it succeeds admirably, not only telling a good story and going into greater depth about what it really means to be trapped in a game, but also giving added depth to four out of the five main characters. (Apologies to Serara, but you still haven’t risen much above the level of a moeblob.) This goes doube for Isuzu, who has the biggest picture on the cover and arguably grows the most throughout the book, as she tries to overcome her amazingly huge amounts of self-loathing and realize that she can go past her limits and do something to save the People of the Earth.

Much of this book goes into greater depth about the People of the Earth; how they live their day-to-day lives, what life is like now that the adventurers are inventing so many amazing things (many of which the adventurers regard as commonplace or unimportant), and how they react to a girl going around singing music they’ve never heard before. Isuzu not only thinks that she’s a crappy musician (thanks to something her father told her, which we later learn she may have misinterpreted, and seeing her father’s own skills) but also that what’s she’s doing now isn’t even her skill as she only plays cover songs. It’s up to her not-boyfriend Rundelhaus (who is amazing in this book, and is about ten times more serious than the anime) to tell her the truth: this world only had 42 songs – the 42 pieces of BGM for the Elder Tales game. ‘Music’ and ‘the forty-two’ literally mean the same thing to them. So Isuzu really is changing lives. And when she finally begins to sing a song she composed herself, well, she cam move mountains. Or at least buildings.

Meanwhile, Touya and Minori are not left out. They’re both dealing with growing up as well, Minori trying to be the team strategist and thinking on her feet, and Touya by essentially being the team heart, and being able to see the true feelings behind a faked smile. We also get two new characters… well, sort of new. Roe2 is clearly related to Shiroe in some way, to the point that I was a bit aggravated that no one observed “isn’t that just Shiroe with breasts?” when they first saw her. As for Dariella, the book keeps her identity a secret till the very end (the complete opposite of the anime, which showed who she was from the start), and in retrospect you can see and feel a little bad for who she is and what she’s trying to escape. And for those who like a darker flavor to her Log Horizon books, we get the Odysseia Knights, who seems to have been driven half-mad by being trapped in the game, unlike Akiba’s “welp” sort of player, and Mizufa, a warrior who is a Person of the Earth, but just as terrifying as any adventurer.

It’s rare that I, a spoilerholic, say “I don’t want to spoil more”, but it’s true. This book is a delight, with many passages you’ll want to go back and reread immediately, and has Log Horizon’s usual depth of worldbuilding and characterization. I love Sword Art Online too, but if you’re going to read only one trapped in a game light novel, this should be the one.

Also, Isuzu says she sang a “Snoopy” cover to the People of the Earth, which makes me think it has to be “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” by the Royal Guardsmen. It even works well with lute, drums and keyboard!

Ravina the Witch?

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Cute characters behaving badly — that’s been Junko Mizuno’s MO since her professional debut twenty years ago. Her latest work, Ravina the Witch?, is more picture book than manga, eschewing panels and word balloons for glossy, full-color illustrations, but the story it tells is pure Mizuno: a young woman meets a witch, inherits her wand, and then wanders the countryside meeting depraved men whose hobbies run the gamut from S&M to binge-drinking.

There’s a little more to the story, of course, since Mizuno loves to embroider a simple narrative with odd details. Ravina, we learn, was raised by crows in a junkyard, impervious to human custom and language. Once exiled from her home — by eminent domain, no less! — Ravina uses her new-found powers to cure disease, embarrass a cruel tyrant, and make mushrooms dance. She also finds time to work as a dominatrix and do crossword puzzles with an enormous owl. Oh, and she’s almost burned at the stake for being a witch.

As the plot suggests, Ravina sits somewhere between fractured fairytale and feminist rumination. Mizuno clearly recognizes the way in which female healers are viewed as both powerful and subversive; why else flirt with the idea that Ravina might be a witch, the quintessential symbol of dangerous femininity? Yet Mizuno’s obsession with food complicates any understanding of Ravina as a feminist text. In almost all of her works, from Pure Trance to Ravina the Witch?, Mizuno’s female characters binge, purge, and pop diet pills with ferocious abandon. Mizuno plays these scenes for uncomfortable laughs, blurring the line between criticism of the characters’ self-destructive behavior and critique of the cultural attitudes that fuel it. Ravina, for example, doesn’t just eat a meal; she gorges herself on animals, pies, and bottles of wine, with Cabernet-stained drool seeping down her chin. It’s not clear if Mizuno is showing us how the other characters see Ravina — as a repulsive, unstoppable force of nature — or if Mizuno is celebrating Ravina’s obvious pleasure in eating, defying social expectations that she be restrained, demure, or self-abnegating — in short, refusing to be lady-like in the presence of food.

The ambiguity of these binge-eating scenes stems, in part, from Mizuno’s trademark Gothic kawaii style, which subverts the true horror of what’s she depicting; even the most ruthless characters have soft, round faces that belie their rotten natures. (Heck, her maggots are cute.) Her illustrations are framed by a pleasing assortment of pastel doodles, with flowers, ravens, curlicues, and smiley-faced cabbages filling the nooks and crannies of every page. Although Mizuno is no stranger to full-color comics — all three of her VIZ titles are printed in color — Ravina is printed on glossy paper stock that enables Mizuno to exploit the natural shine and texture of metallic paints to striking effect, mitigating the flatness of her character designs and backgrounds with tactile accents.

Though Ravina the Witch? feels like a step forward for Mizuno’s artistry, story-wise it reads more like a remix of Cinderalla and Princess Mermaid. There’s nothing wrong with mining the same vein of inspiration to produce new works, but when your storytelling approach is this mannered, there are only so many times you can rehearse the same schtick before it feels tired. I’m not sure where Mizuno goes from here, but a gonzo sci-fi adventure, a crime procedural, or even a high-school comedy might give her fresh opportunities to stretch herself without rehashing the same Grimm plotline.

RAVINA THE WITCH? • BY JUNKO MIZUNO • TITAN COMICS • NO RATING (MATURE THEMES) • 48 pp.

Monthly Girls’ Nozaki-kun, Vol. 8

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By Izumi Tsubaki. Released in Japan as “Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun” by Square Enix, serialization ongoing in the online magazine Gangan Online. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Leighann Harvey.

For the most part, the Nozaki-kun manga has tried to stick to a relatively small cast, which pairs up into convenient couples (romantically or otherwise). Nozaki and Chiyo, Hori and Kashima, Seo and Wakamatsu. Mokoshiba used to be the odd one out, but lately he’s been paired with Nozaki’s brother Mayu. That said, there are a lot of other people in the story who’ve had impact, and this volume of Nozaki shows Tsubaki expanding the world a bit more to get them involved. So we see more of Seo’s brother, who gets a whole arc to himself, and we see Wakamatsu’s basketball team, struggling to deal with Seo focusing on all of them rather than Wakamatsu. That said, the core of the book is still our heroes – especially this late in the series, as everyone is starting to realize they’re in love, but never quite realize it in the right way.

A lot of this book takes place in the cafe where Seo’s brother works as a waiter – they need to take on more help, and due to a series of wacky misunderstandings (in Nozaki-kun? SHOCK!) think that his sister is a fragile flower. So they end up hiring Kashima instead, who I will admit makes the perfect waiter, but is also trying to do a part-time job when she should be rehearsing. As a result, the job becomes the rehearsal, and Seo’s brother is somewhat horrified to find that the customers are all fellow drama club members – and that one of them is punching his waiter in the face. He also meets Wakamatsu, which leads to even more hilarious misunderstandings as they both get a completely wrong first impression, then make it worse with everything else they say. Also, Waka is now the only person in the entire universe who doesn’t know Seo is Lorelai. (And by the way, Kashima’s impression of Seo was possibly the funniest thing in the volume.)

Elsewhere, Sakura is still obsessed with Nozaki to the point of ridiculousness. It’s odd to recall back at the start of the series where, aside from lovesickness, she was the sane one. Now she’s just another exaggerated joke gone mad, seeing beta work and Nozaki in her every waking moment. Which, let me assure you, is a good thing – she’s hilarious when she goes over the top. Seo, meanwhile, seems to have come to terms internally with her feelings for Wakamatsu, but is expressing them the best way she knows how – by being amazingly irritating. And then there’s Nozaki’s manga, which continues to make you wonder how it ever comes out and doesn’t get cancelled – his attempts at a unique and original plot are thwarted by a box filled with ridiculous suggestions, and his attempts to draw ‘extra stories’ in the 2-3 pages left for the volume just lead to Mamiko straight up eating a bird. Or at least that’s what it looks like. And then there’s Nozaki’s little sister, who seems to be an odd cross between him and Sakura.

Summing up: Nozaki-kun is still flat out funny, and I love it to bits. I will have to hold onto the love for a while, though; we’ve caught up with Japan, so the next volume may be some time. Get this one immediately, though.

Re: ZERO ~Starting Life in Another World~, Vol. 4

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

It took me far longer than I’d expected to finish this volume of Re: Zero, mostly because I had to pause and stop reading every time Subaru was an absolute idiot. Now, one might argue that the entire premise of the series is that Subaru is an idiot and grows and learns through a series of bitter, horrible experiences, and they’d be right. But this book in particular was filled with (mostly) well-meaning, decent people trying to help Subaru, and his ignoring and steamrollering through them because, deep down, he’s sure that he’s meant to be the protagonist of a story starring him. And in the end it all comes crashing down around him. He’s not dead, but he’s lost Emilia, and to him that may well be worse than death. Fighting against the injustice of the worst is very gritty and shonen, but it does help if you are something other than just this schlub in a tracksuit.

I’ve often said that the fourth book in a series is usually where you can tell the difference in writing between “maybe this will be a success” and “this is a success”, and Re: Zero is no exception. The cast, which had by design been small and intimate in the first three books, grows exponentially, as we’re introduced to all the various factions that are presenting themselves to lead the country – including Emilia, of course, who is understandably worries and upset and really does not need her pet loose cannon dropping in. As expected, Emilia is getting the cold shoulder for her heritage and her looks. That said, the other four candidates each have something that also makes the committee to help choose them want to scream and shout,l so she’s in with a better chance than you’d expect. Oh yes, and we see the reintroduction of Felt, the backalley thief from Book One who was spirited away. Spoiler: she’s a long-lost princess! Luckily, she’s still the Artful Dodger at heart.

In this mess we have Subaru, who was told by Emilia to stay behind and get healed while she deals with this alone, which he agrees to and then promptly disobeys the second she leaves. She knows that if he watches the ceremony at the palace, he’d only get really upset and make a scene. Then he ends up at the ceremony, gets very upset and makes a scene. To be fair to Subaru, he is kicking against the right people here. The knights are arrogant and elitist. They’re also badasses, and he is not. His ending fight with Julius is ridiculous and pathetic, showing that grim determination can only take you so far, and serving to destroy his bond with Emilia once and for all (or at least till a future book).

The book is well-written, and I genuinely want to see m ore, especially as it’s now been two whole books since Subaru last died. And I also want to see more from Rem, who is still far and away the most popular character in the series but is barely in this volume. So I’d call the book a success. But read it in small stages, and you may need to see your dentist afterwards. Let’s hope Subaru gains wisdom next book, though I’m not holding my breath.

Plum Crazy! Tales of a Tiger-Striped Cat, Vol. 1

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By Natsumi Hoshino. Released in Japan as “Kijitora Neko no Koume-san” by Shonen Gahosha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Neko Panchi. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Nan Rymer.

Cat manga have been around in North America for a very long time, but never in any great number. Fans with a long memory will recall the years Dark Horse put out What’s Michael? (which I desperately wish would get a re-release), and Vertical has recently been releasing the adorable Chi’s Sweet Home. Japan loves their cats. Japan loves their cats so much, in fact, that one company has a magazine devoted only to cat manga, Neko Panchi. Technically classified as josei, it runs the gamut from supernatural cat manga, to Edo-period cat manga to funny cat manga to cat manga with romance (between humans, I hasten to add). There’s something for everyone. And now we have this title, the story of a cat owned by a young teenage boy and his ditzy mother, and her travails when a new kitten is added to the family. If you like cute cats, you will not be disappointed.

That said, apologies if this review seems to be grasping for ways to fill out the word count. This is not the sort of title where you can spend time talking about the depth of the plot of the characters. We have: Plum, the titular cat, who alternates between being the long-suffering older cat dealing with the excitable and troublemaking new kitten Snowball; Taku, a teenage boy who seems to be Plum’s owner, and loves cats but is for the most part responsible and level-headed; his youthful-looking mother, who loves cats and is for the most part NOT responsible or level-headed, but it’s fun watching her be a ditz; and Taku’s classmates, one of whom is an animal wikipedia whose job it is to provide exposition, and the other of whom owns a raccoon (yes, for once, it is an actual raccoon). As for the plot – cat gets into trouble, cat deals with kitten, cat celebrates Christmas, mom has dream sequence with endless cats of various kinds… the plot is cats.

This is cute, and cat fans will enjoy it. Most of the humor stems from either Snowball, the new kitten in the family, and Plum’s reaction to same, or the antics of Taku’s somewhat immature mother. The art fits the story well, with the cats drawn for maximum awwwww and the humans looking like they would if this ran in any other josei magazine like Feel Young. It’s apparently 16 volumes and running in Japan, which shows that it knows how to do the cat manga thing properly. I’m not sure if I’m down for 16 volumes of this, but I’ll definitely be picking up more of the series, as it’s a nice light snack of a manga to read after you’ve taken in something heavy. All cat lovers should enjoy this.

Invaders of the Rokujouma!?, Vol. 4

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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.

I’m not certain if this is deliberate or accidental, but so far in Rokujouma each starring heroine has been the one featured on the PREVIOUS cover. Sanae features on the cover of Book 2, and gets most of her development in 3. Theia features on the cover of 3, and gains the most development (and a rival) in this book. And, judging by the cliffhanger ending, the next volume will focus primarily on Yurika, who’s on the cover of this volume. Of course, given this is a harem comedy with a large cast, everyone gets something or other to do in this book. But there’s no doubt the main thrust is the play that Theia writes using her own planet’s history, and how much it resonates with some of the cast. And, as I noted above, we get another candidate for the throne as well, who seems to be the mad scientist type, and is perfectly OK with killing others if she can get away with it. Fortunately, this is a comedy.

The other beneficiary of this school play is Harumi, who is a knitting club member rather than a drama club member, but everyone agrees that she has the look and feel of the princess that Theia has “creates”. The gag, of course, being that she only turns into a good actor – only identifies with how the princess is feeling about being separated from her knight – when it’s Koutarou who’s playing opposite her. In fact, it feels like a bit more than a gag, and there are hints that there may be some serious reincarnation or something similar going on here. Of course, this makes for a great excuse to have Koutarou, also not a Drama Club member, play the Blue Knight, which allows Theia to give him rigorous knightly training with a suit of armor that fits him abnormally well. I;ve often said that Vol. 4s tends to be the ones where the plot is greatly expanded as the publisher tells the author it won’t be cancelled immediately, and that seems to be the case here.

The others don’t get as much to do – though I noted that Yurika saved the day without anyone realizing it again, a running gag that suits her misfortune. We do see that after the events of the previous volume, everyone is getting along much better – aside from the occasional abuse of Yurika because, well, that’s what happens to her – there’s little jealousy or typical harem antics going on here. I suspect the ship here may end up being a poly one (in fact, many of J-Novel’s current licenses have legal or implied polygamy – coincidence?), but it’s handled well enough, and poly ships also help to avoid all that “who is best girl?” nonsense. Rokujouma is never going to win any awards for originality or good writing, but it’s like a good beef stew, a meat and potatoes sort of book you can read anytime. Recommended to fans of the genre.

Appleseed Alpha

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By Iou Kuroda, based on the manga create by Masamune Shirow. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Morning Two. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Lillian Olsen and Stephen Paul.

It has been an awfully long time since I read Appleseed, even with the recent digital release. And I haven’t seen the 2014 movie that this is apparently a spinoff from, though I understand the manga and anime may only be loosely based off each other anyway. But that’s OK, because Appleseed Alpha is still a perfectly enjoyable, if occasionally too busy for its own good, story. All you really need to know is that the human woman is Deunan Knute, and her lover/companion is Briareos, a former human who is now mostly cyborg. (How far they go as lovers is, as always, left mostly ambiguous.) The main series proper saw them living in, and rebelling against, the utopia of Olympus. The Alpha story is a prequel, so naturally we get to spend it in a dystopia – the remains of New York City, run by a cyborg who is half mayor and half mafia boss.

Shirow is not writing or drawing this, by the way, but the artist is not unknown to North American readers – it’s Iou Kuroda, creator of cult classic Sexy Voice and Robo. That felt like more of an indie comic than a manga, and this feels much the same, which makes sense as it ran in Kodansha’s experimental manga title Morning Two. The art has thick lines and less detailed faces, though trust me, there’s just as much detailed background and cityscapes as you’re used to with this title. The main plot separates our heroes early, as Briareos, by nature of his not only being a cyborg but one of the awesome cyborgs, is lauded by the mayor (whether he likes it or not) and Deunan is left out in the cold. She ends up outside the city, meeting a group of farmers who may have more links to the city than she had expected. Meanwhile, Briareos has, of course, NOT abandoned Deunan, and ends up heading out to see her.

This one-volume omnibus has a few cool battles, though the artist seems more suited to drawing the effects of the fights than the fights themselves. There’s also some amusing humor, the best of which involves several trains filled with cows all heading into the remains of Penn Station with drivers asleep at the wheel. Deunan and Briareos feel in character – both somewhat removed from society, yet still highly involved it it – and Deunan still gets to be a hothead at times. As for the mayor, Two Horns, he is a hoot, a giant parody of all mayors with a sinister side to him as well – and a mysterious past that gets revealed right at the end of the book. I’d definitely recommend this if you’re a fan of Appleseed. For others, even though it’s technically a prequel/alternate universe, I’d recommend starting with the four main Appleseed books themselves.

Full-Time Wife Escapist Vols 1 and 2

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Full-Time Wife Escapist Volume 1 and 2 by Tsunami Umino

Kodansha seems to be putting out so many digital titles, I’m having a hard time keeping track of them all. I’m always curious to check out josei titles and Full-Time Wife Escapist is a unique title, as it isn’t as overtly focused on romance as some of the other josei titles that have been translated over here.

Mikuri is in a bind after attending graduate school in psychology. She’s having difficulty finding a full-time job, and makes ends meet as a temp. When her temp job ends, she’s caught in a difficult situation because her parents are moving to the country, where there will be even less work for her. She picks up some shifts here and there doing housework and meets a man named Tsuzaki, and she becomes his regular part-time housekeeper. They become closer when she takes care of him during an illness. Mikuri and Tsuzaki come up with the solution where Mikuri will move in as his platonic paid wife, taking over housekeeping duties, making him lunch and dinner, and generally making his bachelor apartment more comfortable.

Tsuzaki is a bit of a loner at work, and somewhat emotionally stunted and has a way of relating to other people that make them assume that he’s cranky, but it seems more like he just hasn’t developed his social skills very well. The transnational nature of the relationship is one of the aspects of this manga that makes it both interesting and refreshing. When Mikuri and Tsuzaki go to visit his parents, they set the terms of Mikuri’s overtime by negotiating back and forth. It is interesting to see tasks that would be unacknowledged emotional labor in a real relationship being assigned a dollar value in this one.

Mikuri’s background in psychology shows her observing other people as opposed to getting real insight on herself. She does have some amusing daydream sequences when her mind wanders and she projects herself into some dream tv interviews that offer some commentary on her life choices. Her aunt Yuri, an unmarried career woman, serves as a counterpoint to Mikuri’s more aimless lifestyle. I enjoy manga when it gets a little didatic, and there are some great asides in Full-Time Wife Escapist where the characters start discussing the economic conditions facing younger adults in Japan, providing some real world background and context to Mikuri’s unconventional lifestyle choice.

The first volume sets up the unique relationship situation in The Full-Time Wife Escapist fairly quickly, and the second volume shows some of the issues that happen when the couple continues to try to portray their relationship as real to friends and colleagues, who sense that something is a bit off in the way the couple relate to each other. At the same time, the close proximity of the fake couple is showing some awareness developing between them. This series has a nice slice-of life pace to the storytelling, as everyday activities like preparing dinner have a new slant due to the unique relationship. At the same time, there are some moments of pathos, as Tsuzaki reflects that if Mikuri ever decides to get married for real, he’s going to be alone for the rest of his life.

Tsuzaki’s friend Kazami starts appearing a bit more and more, and he and Mikuri have a few easy friendly conversations. Kazami starts envying the married lifestyle, but he’s not interested in settling down at all. Intriguing changes are signaled for the next few volumes. I enjoy a good josei romance series, but one of the things I appreciate about The Full-Time Wife Escapist is that it is focused more on transactions and slowly developing friendships than overt romance. It’ll also be interesting to see if Mikuri’s unconventional wife for hire lifestyle is sustainable over the long term.

Demon King Daimaou, Vol. 1

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By Shoutaro Mizuki and Souichi Itou. Released in Japan as “Ichiban Ushiro no Daimaou” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by David Musto.

While I would not go so far as to say that it was terrible, or that I won’t get more (I am curious to see what happens next), there’s no getting around the fact that Demon King Daimaou is a deeply flawed book. It knows what it wants to do, but sometimes skips necessary steps to get there. Its setting is bog standard, and most of its characters hew to the cliched stereotype. In fact, when this fairly old light novel series was made into an anime several years back, fans called the heroines by their hair color rather than their name. That’s harder to do with a textual book, even with illustrations, so I will try to use actual names – I apologize if this makes things confusing. The most interesting part of the book is the hero, but that’s not always to its benefit either.

Our hero is Akuto, seen here on the cover showing more expressiveness than he does in the entirety of this book. He’s a young orphan who arrives at Constant Magical Academy in order to start a path towards changing the world by becoming a high priest. Unfortunately, like the Sorting Hat in Harry Potter only much worse, there’s a machine at the school that lays out your perfect career path for all students. And Akuto’s is Demon King, which disturbs almost everyone since the last Demon King was defeated at that very school years ago. Of course, Akuto doesn’t believe in fate, and a simple explanation to his fellow students should do the trick. Unfortunately, while he may be overly serious, studious, and have seemingly noble intentions, he cannot help but stick his foot in his mouth every time he speaks – partly as he genuinely isn’t paying attention to how his words come across till after he’s said them, and partly because, well, he really would make a pretty nifty demon king.

Akuto is interesting as a hero mostly as he’s not really the hot-headed, fiery type or the “harem protagonist” type – the book runs on his total inability to say the right thing in any given situation, but skewed just enough so it doesn’t seem familiar. The same can’t be said of the heroines. Keena, the girl on the cover, is meant to be the ‘airhead’ sort, but also has a mysterious past, and spends a lot of the book away from events. Junko is our standard Akane Tendo heroine, who likes Akuto at first before he’s chosen by the machine to be demon king, but afterwards alternates between humiliated rage at being played for a fool and growing feelings of love (that frankly grow far too fast given their interaction). The best of the girls so far is Korone, an android bodyguard with a stonefaced expression and a tendency to tease the bejabbers out of Akuto – she was my favorite part of the book.

I should also mention the ending, which features another girl, who is secretly evil, getting her comeuppance at the end in what is meant to be a humorous way. Sadly, this involves her getting gangraped by her other female classmates, who are under the influence of a drug. It’s implied and offscreen, but I don’t care. It’s ugly and awful. It helps to make this first volume something of a hot mess, and while I’m not abandoning it just yet, it’s on thin ice. I’d recommend it to those who enjoyed the anime only.

Land of the Lustrous, Vol. 1

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Land of the Lustrous is a gorgeous trainwreck, the kind of manga that doesn’t make sense on a panel-by-panel basis, but ravishes you with artwork so beautiful and strange it’s hard to look away.

I’ll be honest: I read the first volume three times, and found it almost impenetrable. As best I could tell, Land of the Lustrous depicts an interplanetary war between two races: the Gems, whose androgynous, humanoid appearance belies their true, rock-like nature, and the Lunarians, who frequently raid Earth, hoping to capture Gems for decorative purposes. (What kind of decorations remains a mystery; my vote is for bedazzled jeans and hoodies.) Since there are only 28 Gems, they’ve organized themselves into “fighter-medic” pairs to defend Earth from the Lunarians. One Gem — Phosphophyllite, who registers only 3.5 on the Mohs scale — is too weak to perform either task, so the group’s leader pronounces Phos their official naturalist, and tasks Phos with writing a history of Earth.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that Land of the Lustrous was a satire on the dissertation-writing process, given how much time Phos spends procrastinating and grumbling about the book, but these scenes are interspersed with awkward flirtations, violent combat, and a brief episode in which Phos turns into a cute, sentient space slug. These abrupt shifts in tone frustrate the reader’s ability to get a handle on what, if anything, Land of the Lustrous is trying to say — a problem compounded by the dialogue, which is sometimes so windy that it’s a drag on the story, and sometimes so burdened with exposition that it barely passes for conversation.

When the characters stop talking and start doing things, however, Land of the Lustrous is a show-stopper, a testament to the richness of Haruko Ichikawa’s imagination. The Lunarians’ first appearance, for example, establishes them as an inscrutable menace. Their soldiers glide silently above the ground, led by an enormous, stone-faced Bodhissattva who’s flanked by undulating lines of archers with bows drawn, their arms and arrows criss-crossing the horizon to form a graceful lattice. (Busby Berkeley would have approved of the Lunarians’ formation.)

What happens next is even more astonishing:

In this sequence, a Gem slices through the general’s head, only to reveal a lotus pod filled with lethal “seeds” — a beautiful but unsettling moment reminiscent of Aubrey Beardsley’s work in its commingling of the sensual and the grotesque; we’re not certain if the Lunarians are animal, vegetable, or mineral. Making this sequence even more disorienting is the dramatic shift in perspective: we see the impending attack from the general’s point of view, then shift to the attackers’ for the moment of contact and its aftermath. The eerie stillness of the final two panels reveals the extent to which the Lunarian general’s transformation has confounded the Gems, who are transfixed by the viscous flow of blood — or is that sap? — from his head.

Looking at these images, I wonder what a more assertive editor might have done to reign in Ichikawa’s worst storytelling tendencies: would the tone and pacing have been more even? The world-building more coherent? The dialogue more revelatory? In the absence of such editorial interventions, however, the most original aspects of Ichikawa’s work sink beneath a torrent of banal conversation and stale comic bits that pass for character development. A few moments of unnerving imagery interrupt the tedium long enough to make an impression on the reader, but are too brief and scattered to yield a truly satisfying experience.

LAND OF THE LUSTROUS, VOL. 1 • BY HARUKO ICHIKAWA • TRANSLATED BY ALETHEA AND ATHENA NIBLEY • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED: TEEN (13+) • 192 pp.