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Reviews

Delicious in Dungeon, Vol. 1

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By Ryoko Kui. Released in Japan as “Dungeon Meshi” by Enterbrain, serialization ongoing in the magazine Harta. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Taylor Engel.

This is, when you come right down to it, a straight up mix of two popular genres right now. Dungeon Crawling is popular in both isekai works and others that just like the genre of the fantasy RPG. And cooking manga has always been popular in Japan for years, with people spending pages upon pages telling readers how delicious they can make something in great detail. Combining the two is a clever idea, and on the face of it the main reason to read this book, but I’m going to be honest, I found the actual RPG and food sections rather boring. No, the real reason to read this book are the main characters, who, while not the most original bunch, do give a off a certain weird charm – emphasis on the weird. They’re individually eccentric, but even more eccentric when put together.

Our party seems very standard by RPG terms: among others, they have a front-line warrior, an elf mage, and a small, grumpy trap expert. At the beginning of the title, they have even more people, but they miscalculate what supplies and food they need to successfully fight off a monster, and as a result are exhausted and starved. So they lose and have to run away – and worse, our hero’s sister in literally eaten by one of the monsters. When most of the rest of their team quits, they’re left in dire straits – the sister can be rescued, but only if they return immediately. Thus a truly foolish, desperate idea – save on supplies by eating the monsters they capture. With the help of a dwarf who had a lot of cooking knowledge and very little common sense, they set out to slowly return to where they left off and maybe try to rescue the sister, though honestly they’re taking so long I’m not expecting much.

As I said above, the main reason to read this is the off-kilter sense of humor it has. Laios, our hero, is a monster freak with a lot of idealism and book knowledge, but it’s also made him a bit of a ditz. Marcille, the elf mage, is a walking font of common sense for the most part, forever forced to be the tsukkomi and be shocked to find the technically gross things she’s eating are actually really tasty when cooked properly. The other one with some common sense is Chilchuck, the trap expert, and he contrasts well with the dwarf, Senshi, who is a bit of a pop-eyed lunatic when he’s not talking about food. Fortunately, Chilchuck is easily flattered. Together, the four of them get into vaguely death-defying situations as they attempt to save Laios’ sister, whose fate seems to be a bit of a running gag, but I suspect will pop up later on if only as the alternative is a bit too dark.

I’m not exactly sure if this is a series I’d want to keep reading on a regular basis, but the first volume was amusing enough, and is definitely worth it if you enjoy dungeon crawls. As for the foodie crowd… possibly less so.

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 6

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Yona of the Dawn Volume 6 by Mizuho Kusanagi

I’m always happy when a new volume of Yona of the Dawn comes out. The cover of this volume, featuring Yona and Sinha sheltering from the rain under a giant leaf, is particularly adorable. Yona is tested in many ways as she learns more about the Green Dragon and his pirate companions.

Although Yona doesn’t have any superpowers, the force of her forthright personality proves to be an incredible advantage for her. When the Green Dragon Jaeha announces that he won’t join up with her, she reacts calmly, saying that she’ll ask him to join her but would never order or try to compel him to change his mind. Yona is tested even further when Jaeha takes her to meet the pirate queen, Captain Gi-Gan. She tests the companions and refuses to accept Yona, since Yona doesn’t have any special or useful abilities. Gi-Gan tells Yona to gather a rare medicinal herb, which requires some treacherous hiking at the edge of a cliff. Yona is determined to prove herself worthy of taking part in the upcoming battle, and she heads off to face her test, accompanied by Jaeha. Jaeha’s Green Dragon protective instincts kick in even as he tries to fight the bond he has with Yona.

There were a bunch of very cute Yona and Hak moments in this volume. Hak points out that her attitude towards the Green Dragon’s recruitment is totally at odds to her ordering him to accompany her on her journey and she gets incredibly flusters and tells him to shut up because “You’re different.” Hak secretly finds this adorable. Hak’s jealousy kicks into high gear when Jaeha talks about how unique and cute Yona is. His emotions are tested even more when Yona decides to go undercover to subvert the local warlord’s terrible plans for human trafficking with the village girls. Sometimes I’m not a fan of such slowly developing romances, but while Hak has clearly acknowledged his feelings internally, it still seems like Yona hasn’t examined her feelings for him quite as closely. Hopefully there will be more developments here in the next volume or so!

As I was reading this volume of Yona of the Dawn, I realized that it reminded me quite a bit of Basara. There’s the superficial similarity of awesome pirate queen characters popping up in both manga, but the slower pace of the storytelling allowing the author to introduce an expansive cast with plenty of character development along the way is the main reason why I like both series.

Girls’ Last Tour, Vol. 1

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Was Tsukumizu an architect in a previous life? That question lingered with me as I read volume one of Girls’ Last Tour, a sci-fi manga that unfolds in a not-too-distant future filled with crumbling infrastructure and empty cities. Tsukumizu details the physical environment with precision, from sagging girders and abandoned cranes to pockmarked skyscrapers, broken trestles, and rusting water tanks. The sense of loss is palpable on every page, whether the principal characters are surveying an airplane “graveyard” filled with rusting turboprops, or searching for safe passage through a partially flooded city. Though we don’t learn what caused the devastation, Tsukumizu’s vivid illustrations suggest that the world we’re seeing was torn apart by violence.

If only the characters were rendered with such specificity! Yuuri and Chito — the “girls” of the title — are opposites: Yuuri is the brawn, Chito the brain. Both are so focused on their own survival that we have little sense of who they were before the apocalypse, or what brought them together. That in itself isn’t a fatal flaw; Robert Redford’s character in All Is Lost, for example, had no obvious backstory to explain why he was sailing by himself, or who might miss him if he drowned at sea. Yet the movie was compelling, as Redford’s character was painfully aware of his own vulnerability, and the unlikeliness of being rescued. In Girls’ Last Tour, by contrast, the dramatic stakes are low; many chapters revolve around simple activities — jerry building a hot tub, finding a place to sleep — that don’t reveal much about either girl’s personality, or the dangers they face.

The one exception is a story arc spanning chapters six, seven, and eight, in which Yuuri and Chito meet a cartographer who’s been diligently mapping an unnamed city. When an accident scatters Kanazawa’s maps to the wind, his anguish at their loss generates a visceral jolt of emotion. “I may as well fall with them,” he declares, a statement that Chito and Yuuri forcefully reject before dragging Kanazawa to safety atop a tower. As they peer out over the city, their bodies dwarfed by sky and buildings, the darkness gives way to a brilliant patchwork of lights that illuminate their faces and the rooftops around them — a potent reminder that the city once teemed with life.

Tsukumizu frustrates the reader’s efforts to make sense of the characters, however, by drawing Chito and Yuuri as a pair of affectless automatons. Yuuri’s comments about the lights indicate that she’s genuinely moved, but her face and her body don’t register any emotion; she might as well be discussing what she had for dinner, or whether railroad ties make good firewood. Perhaps the flatness of her delivery is meant to convey just how weary she is, or how pragmatic she must be to survive, but the banality of her conversations with Chito suggest that Tsukumizu had some difficulty creating characters as sharp and memorable as the world they inhabit.

The bottom line: Your mileage will vary: some people may appreciate the series’ absence of dramatic conflict, while others may find it a little too measured to be engrossing. I’m on the fence about this one; on the strength of the final story arc, however, I’ll be picking up volume two.

GIRLS’ LAST TOUR, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY TSUKUMIZU • TRANSLATION BY AMANDA HALEY • YEN PRESS • RATED T, FOR TEEN (13+) • 162 pp.

 

Invaders of the Rokujouma!?, Vols. 1-3

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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.

This series has an unusual history, at least in terms of translation. It’s 24+ volumes in Japan, so no one was seriously considering it as a possible license. Plus it had a fan translation already. But J-Novel Club reached out to the fan translator and made a deal, and so what we have here is that translation, newly edited for published release. It’s available for free on J-Novel’s site, or you can buy it on Amazon and the usual suspects as a normal light novel. As for why you’d want to? Well, do you like Strike the Blood? Do you enjoy its blinding obvious cliches but wish that it was less action oriented and more of a harem comedy? If so, then Rokujouma may be the series for you! It’s cliched as heck, but rarely actively irritating, and at times even can be heartwarming and amusing.

If you are wondering what Rokujouma means, well, I’m a little unclear on that myself, but the basic premise is that this young man, living alone as he starts high school, has found a dirt-cheap apartment. It’s dirt-cheap because, as the landlady tells him, it’s haunted and everyone’s been driven out of it. This does not bother our hero, though, as he’s a deep sleeper. After an accident he gets into while at work (which is, somewhat frustratingly, never followed up on in any of the three books), he comes home and finds he can now see the ghost, a cute young girl trying to get him out as this is HER apartment. And then suddenly we get a self-proclaimed magical girl, a member of an underground tribe, and an alien princess and her retainer, all of whom have designs on the room for their own reasons. And it’s not even a big apartment! Hijinx, as they say, ensue.

The author notes in the afterword of Volume 1 that this is only his second book, and his first series. It shows a bit – the flaws in this series are the sort you see in a new writer’s work, with some stuff explained too much, some not explained enough, and the occasional reliance on stereotypes to take the place of characterization, though that improves as the series goes on. The first book is the weakest, since it has to introduce the cast all at once and can’t really do much else. Stronger was the second book, which involves a school athletic festival and is filled with lots of opportunities for wacky comedy – the anime version of this is likely quite amusing. The best reason to read the series is Yurika, the magical girl who absolutely no one believes. I suspect the author was watching Haruhi Suzumiya when he wrote her, as she’s basically Mikuru, but the sheer amount of abuse and contempt heaped upon her by our hero, the other girls, and even the narration is so overblown it becomes hilarious.

This is absolutely a standard harem comedy, and doesn’t really do much of anything to set itself up above the pack so far. That said, it also doesn’t really do too much to really make it horrible, either. The ghost girl gets a lot of character development in the third book, and I suspect future books will do the same for the others. If you like this genre, and haven’t already read the series online, Rokujouma is worth checking out.

Descending Stories: Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinji, Vol. 1

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By Haruko Kumota. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Itan. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Matt Alt.

Just as there is a big difference between having the Great American Novel in your head and actually being able to turn it into an actual book, there is a difference between being able to tell a great story when you’re in a bar or with your friends and being able to tell a great story in front of an audience who is there to be entertained by your stories. And in Japan there is a tradition devoted to just such a thing: Rakugo, where the performer sits on a cushion and tells a long, involved story, usually involving multiple people, and has to make sure to differentiate between the characters, not make everything too complicated to follow, and entertain the audience. This is the sort of thing that ex-con Yotaro wants to do, and he persuades one of the last rakugo masters (it’s a dying art) to take him on as an apprentice. But of course, it’s not as easy as that.

The thing that struck me most about this series as I read it is the way that the three main characters are both sympathetic and yet very difficult to like. Yotaro is obnoxious in the sort of way that you’re glad he’s just a character in a story and not your actual friend, and his apprenticeship at times seems like he’s more of a puppy that was picked up off the streets (this is actually lampshaded). Yakumo, the rakugo master, is a cranky and aging man who is upset that his art is dying and troubled by a tragic past, including the death of his best friend, whose art he sometimes tries to show in his own work. He’s unpleasant in just the right ways to make him fascinating yet really irritating, and it’s still not quite clear why he picked Yotaro to be an apprentice when he never has before – I don’t think he really knows either, though Yotaro does have some raw talent.

The third main character is Konatsu, Yakumo’s “ward” and the daughter of the dead best friend I mentioned before. She is deeply bitter and angry about the death of her parents, which she suspects Yakumo was actually involved in more than he admits, and is also deeply angry and bitter about the fact that women are not allowed to perform rakugo – a shame as she’s really, really good at it, and she knows it. She ends up teaching Yotaro most of the basic skills, mostly as his actual master is far too busy using him as an actual dogsbody. The anguished and dark conversation between her and Yakumo, where he wishes out loud that the gods had let her be born a man, and she says she feels the same, is heartbreaking. Basically, Konatsu is a walking timebomb, and I’m curious how many volumes it will take for her to go off.

Descending Stories ran in Itan, one of Kodansha’s ‘sui generis’ manga magazines that, like many other ‘sui generis’ manga magazines, tends to get classified as josei when people try to slap a genre on it anyway. I can see why this story falls into that genre, though – the art style reminds me of Ooku, and not just because of the period kimonos and hair. Descending Stories didn’t bowl me over, but it’s a strong start, and I definitely want to say where these characters go next.

Flying Witch, Vol. 1

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By Chihiro Ishizuka | Published by Vertical Comics

Makoto Kowata is a novice witch who, in the tradition of witches, has left home at the age of fifteen to become independent. Her parents are concerned about her safety, though, so she’s staying with relatives in Aomori, located in the Tohoko region where it’s easier to perform magic thanks to abundant wilderness and natural resources. Accompanying her is her familiar, a black cat named Chito who is indisputably my favorite character.

Flying Witch is a calm, slice-of-life tale depicting Makoto’s attempts to fit in to her new surroundings. Makoto’s young cousin, Chinatsu, is scared of her at first, but changes her opinion to “so cool!” after a ride on a broomstick. Makoto starts high school and forgets that she’s not supposed to be talking about witchy matters with people who aren’t family. She tries to give a mandrake to an ordinary girl as a present. She starts a vegetable garden. She receives a visit from “the harbinger of spring” and another from her world-traveling sister.

It’s all very peaceful, but there are some amusing moments scattered throughout. I love that Chinatsu’s dad has a heavy regional accent (rendered as Southern in the translation) and that, after everyone else has tried and failed to capture a pheasant, he gives it a shot himself, comically muttering, “Dang it!” But what I really love is anything to do with Chito. Ishizuka-sensei does a terrific job at conveying Chito’s facial expressions, including an adorable panel of the kitty sticking out her tongue and going “pbbt.” The best, though, occur during the chapter in which Chito leads direction-challenged Makoto for a walk in the neighborhood. She assures her they’re going to a good spot, but it ends up being a location where Chito can taunt a dog on a tether, remaining disdainfully out of reach as he goes berserk.

Even though the premise is very different from Yotsuba&!, that gentle, slice-of-life feeling summons a similar response. I ended up enjoying this a lot more than I expected to, and now eagerly await volume two, albeit mostly for more Chito.

Flying Witch is ongoing in Japan, where five volumes have been released so far. Vertical will release the second volume in English later this month.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 11

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

The Index series is very fond of building on previous volumes and showing us that nothing takes place in a vacuum – there are no “stand alone” novels, everything impacts something else. And so this volume ends up being something of a direct sequel to the 7th volume, as Touma and Index win a trip to Italy (that was clearly rigged, though that’s not made explicit) and barely manage to arrive in a small city near Venice before they are once again embroiled in the Roman Orthodox’s attempts to regain power whatever the cost. This also follows up on events from Vols. 9 and 10 = Lidvia failed, and so the church is even more desperate, and looking for scapegoats. And what better scapegoats than the group of nuns who failed in the 7th book, led by Agnes Sanctis, who it turns out is far too similar to Touma and Orsola for her own good. For a book that goes to Italy and back in under 24 hours, there’s a lot going on here.

Introduced in this volume: Biagio Busoni, Itsuwa, Pope Matthai Reese, Vento of the Front. The latter two are not explicitly named. Busoni is the villain of the volume, but like Lidvia he ends up being another in a series of failures. Itsuwa is the most important introduction here, but you wouldn’t guess it from her small and pointless appearance in this volume, where she spends the entire time handing Touma hot towels and harboring an obvious crush on him, which the other Amakusa Catholics encourage and get frustrated by. (So she clearly saw Touma in action in Book 7, even if she wasn’t named – the anime adding her makes total sense.) The Pope and Vento appear in the final cliffhanger scene, and make it clear that the Church is not going away. Timeline-wise, it’s the end of September, and the festival has mostly ended but school hasn’t started up yet, which is why Touma and Index can go to Italy. In the Railgun timeline, we’re starting the Dream Ranker arc, though honestly at this point it gets harder to mesh timelines – Railgun hasn’t hit books after this one yet.

As you might be able to tell by the cover, Index gets significant time in this book, even though Agnes is the heroine that Touma is saving this time around, and arguably Orsola gets more to do. I have a bit of a reputation as an Index apologist, but even her detractors would have to admit that she’s at her best in this book, showing off her knowledge of Europe and ability to speak multiple languages, saving Touma and Orsola from a sniper attack, and continuing to use magic despite characters literally saying she can’t use magic mere pages later. (I understand what they’re trying to say – Index herself has no magic ability, she’s just using the books within her. But it’s semantics at this point, given she’s speaking spells that alter the trajectory of bullets and the like.) Actually, the one big flaw in this book is Touma, who spends most of it being far grumpier and angrier than he has any right to be – Index does bite him a couple of times, but the prose makes it very clear that he was asking for it heavily.

And once again we have the Roman Orthodox Church as villains, though Orsola exists to show off the goodness that can still exist within them. Of course, she’s off to join the English Puritans, and from a strictly religious standpoint, this could be disquieting – but this is a fantasy where magic is thrown around like candy, so there’s no need to examine it too hard. As always, the book goes out of the way to avoid using the word “Catholic” in regards to this church, even though we have the Russian Catholic Church mentioned. Indeed, for a book with as much religion as this one has, Jesus Christ is never named explicitly – which could be a simple translation choice, but also makes sense, given that these Roman Catholics seems to place far more faith in powerful tools, such as the Cross that Jesus died on (Crossist is used a lot) than Jesus’ teachings, which only Orsola seems to take to heart. Again, Index is fascinating in many ways, but devout Catholics may want to skip it.

This volume ends with a cliffhanger, but I’m not sure that we’ll see it resolved in the next book, as Touma’s punishment game should take center stage. Also, isn’t it about time we see Accelerator again? In any event, this is a very good volume that will please casual light novels readers.

Mixed Bathing in Another Dimension: The Chaotic Stone Sauna

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

Despite the threat of death from a giant dragon/dinosaur thing that secretes poison gas, this is actually another relatively low-impact volume of Mixed Bathing, and I think I’m coming to terms with that a bit more. In fact, it turns out to be an inversion of the last book. Last time Touya and company were doing all the plot-relate4d work, and we only briefly touched on Haruno back at Athenapolis. This time around Haruno gets far more of the focus – over a third of the book. Touya, meanwhile, mostly dithers around in the Fire Nation, which does not seem to be attacking anytime soon, taking advantage of the blessings of his various goddesses to get things like a really awesome kitchen (although not, oddly, a toilet, something that is relevant enough to be a plot point later – I assume it’s because toilets and baths in Japan are so separate, but still, was this trip really necessary?). Mostly, though, Mixed Bathing continues to develop its plot and backstory, and gives us more likeable characters who respect each other. Which I still can’t get enough of.

Of course, there’s a naked loli on the cover, so the book has likely already lost a chunk of audience that might otherwise have tried it out. Said loli is Rakti, the Goddess of Darkness who due to the events we heard about in the previous volume, is now freed and with our heroes, although given she has to hide her powers to avoid world war, she mostly functions as a moeblob this book. As noted, Touya leaves Hadesopolis and heads to the Fire Nation, Hephaestusopolis (bet you can’t guess how the author came up with these city names) to gain the blessing of the Fire Goddess, something that is relatively simple and painless. (The Light Goddess is not amused, though, and honestly the goddesses seem to be functioning as the cliched harem that Touya’s actual real-world harem isn’t.) The action comes in the last third of the book, with a nasty fight and some clever use of both his bath powers and Clena’s own magic – Touya is still using more spells and less bath, but he’s starting to combine the two, and I liked how he’s now working together in battle with the others more.

As for Haruno and her group, she’s actually the one picking up more new girls this time around, although whether Daisy and Prae will end up being part of Touya’s harem is not really clear – Touya and Haruno still have not met back up. Prae did make me a little uncomfortable – she seems to have a mental disability of some sort, and while Haruno and the others treat her normally and with respect, I’m not exactly sure why the author went in this direction beyond “the giant woman acts like a child”. More impressive is Haruno’s political intrigue, where she shows off her smarts and her strength of will, taking out a corrupt slave regime and the senators behind it in literally one day, and then skedaddling after the revelation of what really happened in the past has led to a schism in the Light Goddess’ followers.)

In the end, this is simply a good series, showing depth of thought into the backstory of the world, and respect for all the characters, which given how much naked bathing there is in this story remains a major feat. It’s become one of my most anticipated light novel titles.

My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness

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By Nagata Kabi. Released in Japan as “Sabishisugite Lesbian Fuzoku Ni Ikimashita Report” by East Press. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Jocelyne Allen.

This book took me by surprise several times, mot least of which is the fact that it was licensed at all. A realistic look at depression and sexuality done autobiographically, and then released first on the art board Pixiv, then by the small publisher East Press? It was not the type of story I expected to see picked up by the publishers of Monster Girl Encyclopedia. But no publisher ever quite fits its cliche, and Seven Seas decided to take a chance on this book. I’m so glad they did, and you should be as well, because this is a raw but fascinating and ultimately uplifting read for anyone. I was actually surprised at how much of it spoke to me, being that I am seemingly not the typical audience for this book, but the experiences here also hold a touch of the universal, and the way they play out is excellent.

After a brief flashforward to the event on the cover, which is mostly covered in the second half of the book, we get the author’s examination of her life after high school. She was doing art at college but dropped out, and attempts to hold down a part-time job were hampered by her issues of self-esteem, eating disorders, and a serious case of depression. This is not a lighthearted title, and we get a lot of examination of the thought process that goes into being depressed and having anxiety. It’s one of the best parts of the book – by working over everything in such detail, with the author also analyzing her own behavior at the time as she writes it, she shows us how difficult it can be to get yourself out of that hole you dig. There’s also a realization that she may not want to be the person that her parents are pushing her to be – which then leads into an examination of her sexuality.

Again, like the depression, she lays this out in a very straightforward, visible manner, showing how she didn’t even think of herself as a gender, because she didn’t want to be seen first as a woman, then as a person. This leads to her realizing that she’s more attracted to women’s bodies, and a wonderful examination of the need for affection and physical contact, beyond the bounds of sexuality. It culminates in the decision to have a session with a worker from an escort agency, so that she can experience what she’s been obsessing over. Of course, this being realistic autobiography, the experience is as awkward and difficult as you’d imagine (I liked where she expressed regret that she forgot to hug them), but things do end up more hopeful by the end of the book, with the author taking this experience and deciding to use it to create the story we’re reading, and the online reaction she gets, leaves you smiling and hoping that she finds fulfillment.

Basically, this manga may make you uncomfortable at times, but it is well worth it to see how one person can talk about such universal topics as anxiety, depression, and sexual identity on the page. Please go buy it, you won’t regret it.

Water Dragon’s Bride, Vol. 2

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The Water Dragon’s Bride, Volume 2 by Rei Toma

The first volume of Water Dragon’s Bride was surprisingly dark, which made it feel quite a bit refreshing as it was quite a tonal shift from the usual shoujo fantasy fare. The second volume wasn’t quite as dark in theme, but it was still quite absorbing, ensuring that this series is rapidly becoming a current favorite of mine.

Modern girl Asahi finds herself transported to another world where she ends up being brutalized by humans, offered up as a sacrifice to the Water Dragon God, and almost starves to death due to the Water Dragon’s utter incomprehension of human frailty. Her one ally is Subaru, a village boy with a scheming and overbearing mother. The Water Dragon appears and heals Asahi from her injuries as she is recuperating in the village. Asahi has a few normal hours where she attempts to communicate while being robbed of speech and she is able to enjoy the outdoors a little bit.

The Water Dragon begins to exhibit some gradual signs of change with the mild protectiveness he exhibits towards Asahi. He becomes angry at the human villagers and finds the rituals and stories they’ve made up about him ridiculous, but he still has no idea how easily breakable humans are, causing yet another accident to Asahi and Subaru as he gets caught up in rage. Asahi is left to care for Subru on his own when he’s injured and she ends up being incredibly resourceful even when she is helped along a little bit by the gods who seem to regard her as a pet project.

Asahi’s situation stabalizes somewhat, as she’s given the role of a priestess and a caretaker. The Water Dragon decided to wait to claim his bride until she’s older and the last few pages give a glimpse of Asahi and Subaru much older, giving a hint to the next story arc. The art on The Water Dragon’s Bride continues to be delightful, and I’m still in awe of Toma’s deceptively simple illustration style. The art isn’t overdecorated, but she manages to portray everything she needs with great economy. It is always clear what Asahi is thinking, even when she’s robbed of the power of speech. The character designs for the pantheon of gods that keep popping in and out to offer sly commentary on the Water Dragon’s inexplicable choices are also charming. My only complaint is that there’s too much of a wait between volumes for this series!

Delicious in Dungeon, Vol. 1

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Food manga comes in two flavors: the tournament series, in which a brash young baker or chef enters cook-offs that stretch his culinary skills to the limit, and the food-is-life series, in which family, friends, or colleagues prepare food together, resolving their differences over tasty dishes. Delicious in Dungeon straddles the fence between these two types by combining elements of a role-playing game, cooking show, and workplace comedy. Expressed as a recipe, the formula for volume one might look something like this:

2 cups Dungeons & Dragons
1 cup Iron Wok Jan
1/2 cup Toriko
1/2 cup Oishinbo
1/2 cup What Did You Eat Yesterday?
2 tbsp. Food Wars: Shokugeki no Soma
2 tbsp. Not Love But Delicious Foods Makes Me Happy!
Dash of Sweetness & Lightning

Though that recipe sounds unappetizing — the manga equivalent of a herring-and-banana smoothie — Delicious in Dungeon is surprisingly good.

Volume one plunges us into the action, pitting a team of warriors and spell-casters against an enormous dragon. Though all six fighters are experienced, they’re so compromised by hunger that they make silly mistakes that result in one member getting eaten. When the team regroups, two members defect to another guild, leaving just Laois, a knight, Chilchuck, a “pick-lock,” and Marcille, an elf magician. The three resolve to rescue Laois’ sister from the Red Dragon’s belly, but their chronic lack of funds forces them to adopt a novel cost-saving strategy: foraging for food inside the dungeon instead buying supplies for the mission.

The trio soon learns that catching and cooking monsters is harder than it looks. Despite the astonishing variety of creatures and man-eating plants that inhabit the dungeon, almost none appear to be edible: some have stingers or hard shells, while others are so disgusting that no one can imagine how to prepare them. When Senshi, a dwarf, volunteers his culinary services, the group is pleasantly surprised by his ability to transform the most unpromising specimen into a delicious array of soups, tempuras, and jerkies. Even more impressive is Senshi’s ability to improvise the tools he needs to make gourmet dishes; he’s the D&D answer to Angus MacGyver.

Subsequent chapters follow a similar template: the group enters a new area of the dungeon, encounters new monsters, and devises new ways to cook them. What prevents this basic plotline from growing stale is Ryoko Kui’s imaginative artwork. Every chapter is studded with charts and diagrams illustrating the dietary habits of dungeon crawlers and the unusual anatomy of dungeon dwellers, from slime molds to basilisks. These meticulous drawings provide a natural jumping-off point for Senshi to wax poetic about the flavor of dried slime, or describe the safest method of harvesting mandrakes.

By contrast, the backgrounds resemble the kind of generic settings of early computer RPGs, providing just enough detail — cobblestone hallways, winding staircases — to establish each location. That allows Kui to lavish attention on the monsters and people — a wise decision, I think, since the artwork plays such a vital role in establishing each character’s personality and powers. Marcille, for example, is a worrywart, her semi-permanent frown mirrored by the angle and shape of her ears. Though her peevish monologues suggest that she’s food-phobic, her slumping posture and clumsy attempts at spell-casting tell a different story: Marcille feels superfluous, and longs for an opportunity to demonstrate her usefulness to the group. Chilchuck, by contrast, is small and nimble; his child-like size belies his maturity and skill as a locksmith and minesweeper, while his cat-like movements remind us that he’s not fully human. (The other characters refer to him as a “halfling.”)

If the series’ rhythm is predictable and the jokes sometimes obvious — one character declares that basilisk “tastes like chicken” — the specificity of Kui’s vision keeps Delicious in Dungeon afloat. Every chapter yields a funky new monster and an even funkier recipe from Senshi — all rendered in precise detail — while the script has the rhythm of a great workplace sitcom; it’s a bit like watching The Office or WKRP in Cincinnati, but with jokes about the merits of giant scorpion meat instead of arguments about the annual Christmas party. I don’t know if I’d want to read 10 or 20 volumes of Delicious in Dungeon, but I’m eager to see where the next installment goes.

DELICIOUS IN DUNGEON, VOL. 1 • BY RYOKO KUI • RATING: T, FOR TEEN (13+) • YEN PRESS

My Youth Romantic Comedy Is Wrong, As I Expected, Vol. 2

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By Wataru Watari and Ponkan 8. Released in Japan as “Yahari Ore no Seishun Rabukome wa Machigatte Iru” by Shogakukan. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Jennifer Ward.

In many ways, this second volume of OreGairu does not have a heck of a lot going on. There are school ativities and discussion of career plans, as befits high schoolers. There is the Service Club and their attempts to help people, which features two cases this time around, both of which are solved relatively quickly. But that’s appropriate, as the problems are very much those of typical high-schoolers – feeling like the odd man out in a group of friends, and trying to find a way to pay for higher education. They’re also solved relatively quickly because both Hachiman and Yukino are both amazingly intelligent and observant, and normally they’d be praiseworthy. But they aren’t, mostly because of the reason anyone would read OreGairu in the first place: to read about these horrible, broken people lacerating each other with words.

I read this book right after reading Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody, and the contrast between narrative style is mindblowing. Hachiman’s cynical bitterness overflows every page, and his defensive asides only serve to make him more pathetic and yet strangely endearing. His insight into human nature, particularly the way that high school students interact around each other, is high-level stuff, and if he was looking for a career at all I’d suggest he move in a direction where he could use those talents for the better good. But his crushing apathy and disaffection ensures that this isn’t going to happen. Yukino is similar to him, though without the outward self-hatred. I say outward because this second volume shows us that there is a topic that really upsets Yukino and cracks her jerkass facade, and that’s showing family issues in her face. Clearly Yukino’s issues are family-related just as Hichiman’s are peer-related, and I have no doubt that future books will explore this in agonizing detail.

Thank goodness for Yui. I feel a little bad for her, as much of the time she feels like a character from a far more cliched light novel trapped inside this series. But she’s desperately needed to offset the bile coming from her two clubmates, and her relatively normal reactions to everything show off both how intelligent and broken Hachiman and Yukino are. She’s also tied to the accident at the start of his high school life, something he is now aware of, and this culminates in a stunning final scene where she gives him a perfect opening to get closer to her and possibly lead up to something more, and he just shuts her down as callously as possible. This series would never work if Hachiman’s attitude was fixed as quickly as this, so the pushback was expected. But it’s beautifully, heartbreakingly written, and you feel bad for Hachiman while wanting to kick him in the head. And Yui needs a hug.

That said, the actual plot is mostly irrelevant for this series, which runs on snappy dialogue and clever characterization. It’s not a happy, feel-good series at all, but it’s absolutely worth a read for light novel fans.

Cage of Eden, Vol. 21

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By Yoshinobu Yamada. Released in Japan as “Eden no Ori” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Mari Morimoto

It’s been six and a half years since I last did a full review of Cage of Eden on this site. The series pretty much was the definition of “this is worthy of a Bookshelf Brief”, featuring a lot of fun action, thrilling adventures, and copious nudity. It’s been over in Japan for a while now, and for a while I wondered if it would ever end here – this final volume comes out a full year after the last one did. But now it’s here, giving us more of what I just said above. There’s huge beasts killing off a few villainous guys whose names I can’t even remember. There’s deadly slime mold that almost, but not quite, manages to kill off our heroes who we do care about. There is an explanation of everything that has been going on, though it is quite rushed. And as for romantic resolution… the hand-holding on the cover is the best you’ll get.

While I did enjoy this last volume, the whole thing screams “your popularity is waning, wrap it up in 4 chapters even though you won’t have time to fit anything in”. As such, much of the back end of this volume is devoted to Akira’s mother, and her POV as her son’s flight is lost with everyone on board presumed dead. The grief and loss she shows is actually some of the best writing in the volume, and helps to make up for the “and therefore I became the heir to a huge scientific conspiracy” that follows. As for the solution to how the class is on the island and why, it’s a reasonable one given the vaguely science-fictional stuff we’ve already seen, and probably a bit more satisfying than Lost, a series that Cage of Eden hes reminded many people of. The ending is wide open, as we never do find out what happens to everyone once they return to Japan… it’s intentionally left as a blank slate.

As for the romance I mentioned earlier, it’s even lampshaded by the author. Despite the occasional overture towards romantic triangles and the obvious attraction and love Akira and Rion feel for each other, the closest we get to a payoff is one last bathing scene, with the peepers helpfully telling us that no one has gotten any, not even Yarai ad his teacher. Honestly, we shouldn’t be surprised. Cage of Eden has always, despite the occasional attempt at depth, been more about surface impressions than anything else. And also, a lot of romance manga these days ends with no resolution to avoid annoying readers. That said, I think even the most hardcore of those fans might have forgiven at least Alira/Rion. Still, we’ll always have that hand-holding.

Cage of Eden was exciting, sometimes horrifying, frequently blatantly sexist, and tried to aim a bit higher than it could really reach, but overall I’m happy I read it. It’s a good example of a typical Shonen Magazine title from about 10 years ago, and I’m glad we got to see it finish up here.

Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody, Vol. 2

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By Hiro Ainana and shri. Released in Japan by Fujimi Shobo. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Jenny McKeon.

There is a bit of a cliche about the typical isekai hero. The abbreviation used, I believe is ‘OP’, as in ‘overpowered’. In fact, it gets applied to light novels heroes whether it’s an isekai or not, but generally tends to mean that the hero wins most of his fights with ease, has very little difficulty amassing a group of girls who like him, and wanders through the story being a cool wish-fulfillment character. Of course, when you examine the works more closely, no one here is ever QUITE that bad. Taking the two most obvious examples, Kirito has various issues in both his real and gaming life (which admittedly the author does not emphasize as much as he should), and Tatsuya has genuine issues communicating properly with people much of the time due to literally being engineered to not have strong emotions. Hell, even Arifureta’s hero spends almost half the book suffering as a bullied loser before he goes through hell and becomes Grimdark Araragi. And then there’s Death March’s Satou.

Even Satou’s very name, one of the most common last names in Japan, screams generic. The author seems to have this misguided opinion that being above the age of 25 somehow manages to let you control all your emotions perfectly, and so Satou strides through situations with barely a raised eyebrow. His briefly getting mildly annoyed at the villain at the end of this volume is a major breakthrough, something he even lampshades. Hell, you know the scene in KonoSuba where Kazuma goes through hell in order to get laid with a brothel employee only for everything to conspire against him? Here, Satou can simply go to a brothel, level up in many erotic ways (which he refuses to tell us), and suffer no punishment other than being briefly yelled at by his loli slave, who he spends most of the book chastising in any case. You could argue that Touya from Mixed Bathing and Touya from Isekai Smartphone are generic nice guys too, but at least they have normal reactions and are somewhat fresh-faced and shiny. Satou is “been there, done that”.

Oh yes, speaking of that loli, Arisa is the major new cast addition this time around, and is also from Japan, though we don’t know the details yet. Given her behavior, I suspect that she’s much older than her fantasy appearance here. But on that note, can we dial down Satou reminding us he’s not a lolicon just a bit? I realize he’s surrounded by young girls (most of whom he owns – the slavery aspect to this work is still very uncomfortable, especially as his reaction is along the lines of “well, that’s the way it is”) but it’s annoying given that the author clearly IS a lolicon and is happy to give us lots of service whether asked for or not. Other new characters include Arisa’s companion, who is painfully shy except when discussing Arisa, and also cursed to look ugly to everyone (except Satou), a generic mook villainess who is #7 of a group of eight, so is naturally named Nana by Satou because he is awful, and a cute realtor who seems to want to be ravished by her boss. Oh, and an elf princess, also very young.

Is there anything in this book that isn’t painful? The last third or so, where he’s battling his way up a huge tower full of monsters, shows the author can be decent when he’s writing fight scenes. At one point, Satou has to literally breakdance his way past the villains, the only time in the entire volume I laughed out loud. But for the most part, if you’re interested in an isekai published in North America, literally any other novel is better than this. Congrats, Death March, you’re the first light novel I’m dropping for simply being bad, rather than dark (Black Bullet, Goblin Slayer, Grimgar) or offensive (Siskan).

Girls’ Last Tour, Vol. 1

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By Tsukumizu. Released in Japan as “Shoujo Shuumatsu Ryokou” by Shinchosha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Kurage Bunch. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Amanda Haley.

As I read this manga, I kept wondering which of the many slice-of-life series starring young girls drawn in a moe style it reminded me of. I’d said on twitter that it was like a post-apocalyptic Yotsuba&!, but at times it also reminds me of Strawberry Marshmallow, Sunshine Sketch, and Non Non Biyori. The key thing that connects all of those titles is that they’re all slice-of-life – note that Girls’ Last tour doesn’t really remind me of other post-apocalyptic mangas where survivors wander the remains of the Earth. Because while that’s the gimmick here, it’s not what keeps people coming back to the title week after week. You come back to see Chito and Yuuri, the two leads, discuss reading, or find hot water so they can take a bath, or meet up with other survivors who help them get up to higher levels of the wasted world they drive their small, cute tank through. It’s… relaxing.

It’s never really made clear, at least not in this volume, exactly what happened to the world that the two girls are wandering through, and honestly it’s not all that important yet. All we know is that there are multiple levels, they are decaying and falling apart, and that for the first 2/3 of the book or so, the girls are the only two survivors we meet. Their concerns are basic: food, heat, shelter, and finding a way to get to a level where there might be more of all three. As you’d expect with a slice of life title, the girls have contrasting personalities. Chito is serious, studious, and does most of the thinking for the two; Yuuri is cheery, dazed, a bit of an idiot, and provides the muscle and shooting skills. And yes, they drive around in a tank and have guns, though we don’t really run into much of anything in this first volume that would require them. Unlike a lot of the slice-of-life seinen titles out recently, there’s not even any faux yuri tease in this – the girls are simply friends, with one perhaps finding the other one more aggravating than she’d like.

About 2/3 of the way through, they meet an older man who is trying to map out the desolate landscape they’re both exploring. Sadly, thanks to a malfunctioning elevator, his maps end up scattered to the four winds (this is even lampshaded right before it happens, with one of the girls talking about the poor design of the freight elevator they’re riding and how it needs railings). This also shows off that even if the girls can slide into moe sameness a bit (I still tend to forget their names), they both have a drive to explore more, to find out what’s beyond the next level, and they convince the understandably distraught mapmaker to do the same thing. Girls’ Last Tour is exploring a landscape quietly and peacefully with two cute young girls. It’s not just a slice-of-life moe manga, it’s trying to be the last slice-of-life moe manga you’d read before the end times cast the universe into heat death. And for the first volume, at least, that’s not too bad.