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Reviews

The Asterisk War: The Phoenix War Dance

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By Yuu Miyazaki and okiura. Released in Japan by Media Factory. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Melissa Tanaka.

The Asterisk War, quality of writing or no, has a tendency to be overly cliched. Sometimes, in fact, it’s so cliched it actually throws me off my game and surprises me. We’re introduced to a pair of sisters here, who end up fighting Ayato and Julis towards the end of the book. Given that we first meet the older sister literally chained up in a subbasement, I expected her to be the barely controllable psycho one gets chained up in subbasements. As it turns out, she loves to fight, but is far nicer than it would seem (though she was right to ditch the weapon trying to overpower her mind). As for the younger sister, I naturally expected her to show that the sweet girl act was a facade, and that she was really the evil one and the brains of the outfit. Hope. She’s just as sweet as she seems, and is there to cook and be rescued. You can second guess yourself on how cliched this book can be.

This is not to say I did not enjoy the book – I did. It’s as deep as a puddle, but that’s not what I’m looking for. Actually, the one time I think that the book really succeeded in creeping me out was when Claudia (who gets the cover art this time) explains the price she pays for the ability to use her weapons, and what it does to almost everyone who isn’t her. One wonders just how much of the flirty yet manipulative student council president is an act – though probably not much, I’ve already learned my lesson on second guessing myself. As for the rest of the harem, Julis is tsundere, though as always it’s a mild case; Saya is cool and seemingly stoic, and Kirin is shy, and they all still like Ayato a lot. I suspect we can also add Priscilla by the end of this book. Ayato is, of course, completely unnoticing, not getting at all why the girls want him to rub their head.

As you may have gathered, we’ve entered the tournament arc part of the story, and it appears it’s going to last more than one book. This allows us to see Ayato and Julis curbstomp a few opponents into the ground, as we know that they’re going to make it close to the finals as, well, they’re the heroes. In fact, given Julis’ wish, I suspect they pretty much have to win. Not so for Saya and Kirin, and I was pleased to see that they also live to fight another novel. Of the new characters, easily the most memorable – even more than the sisters who are the focus of the book – are the two AI robots, who seem deliberately written to be cartoon cliches. In fact, their interaction reminded me a lot of The Poet and Sickle from the later Baccano books, though thankfully Ardy does not speak nearly as floridly as the Poet. They to pummel their way through the contest, and I suspect we’ll get a confrontation between them and our heroes soon.

To sum up, this book is much like the last two books – hilariously unoriginal and yet fun to read in spite of that. It’s the perfect book to take on a vacation – just be aware the books are short, you’ll likely need to take something else as well.

Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James, Books 5-8 by Deborah Crombie

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dreaming_of_bonesDreaming of the Bones
After making my way through the first four books in this series with reasonable alacrity, I really stalled out on Dreaming of the Bones at first. A large part of the problem for me was that it had to do with the death of a poet five years prior, and was thus strewn with quotations of both poetry and flowery letters.

Once I summoned the fortitude to continue, however, I ended up enjoying the book well enough. We are introduced to Victoria, Duncan’s ex-wife, and I appreciated that both of them are painted sympathetically. Their relationship falling apart was no one’s fault in particular, and both have the wisdom now to recognize that. Victoria is on the English faculty at Cambridge and is working on a book about poet Lydia Brooke, whose death was presumed to be suicide. Victoria suspects otherwise and Duncan (as usual) keeps an open mind about her instincts and agrees to look into things even though the local police are not exactly enthusiastic about him poking around.

Although I generally prefer stories where Duncan is assigned to the case of a stranger, Vic’s involvement did offer many emotional consequences for Duncan. Too bad there really weren’t any consequences for the rule-breaking and jurisdiction-trampling he engaged in throughout. Also, I really disliked that Gemma works out the big reveal through a spate of poetic interpretation. Ugh. At the same time, there’s a scene at the end that made me verklempt, so… not my favorite, but still definitely worth reading!

kissed_goodbyeKissed a Sad Goodbye
Duncan and Gemma are assigned to the case of a body found lovingly laid out in a park on the Isle of Dogs. They soon learn her identity—Annabelle Hammond, the beautiful and determined director of Hammond’s Fine Teas who has several lovers on the go. But is what happened to her the result of romantic jealousy, or could it be tied to something else entirely?

Two months have passed since the events of Dreaming of the Bones, and Duncan is still struggling with (spoiler alert!) his newfound fatherhood. The perspective, however, is mostly on Gemma, who is having some trouble figuring out what she wants and who she wants to be. Initially this manifests in a decision to take piano lessons, but soon involves another man.

Honestly, I failed to be convinced by Gemma’s little side romance with Gordon the clarinet-playing busker, who showed up in some earlier book in a greatly diminished capacity. I recall in his earlier appearance that he was brusque and uninterested, but here we get a retcon about how he was secretly intrigued by Gemma all along. It’s played up to be this mutual attraction that she must decide whether to pursue, but he’s just not accessible enough as a character to really make this convincing.

That said, I liked the mystery itself. There were flashbacks throughout to the ’40s, when some of the characters were evacuated to the countryside as children, and they not only elucidate the present but reveal one particular character to be more sympathetic than one might ordinarily assume. On the whole, definitely worth reading, even if there were parts of it I didn’t especially like.

finer_endA Finer End
A Finer End is somewhat tough to review, because I did genuinely like some of the characters that Duncan and Gemma encounter in Glastonbury, where they’ve traveled as a favor to Duncan’s cousin, Jack, whose vicar girlfriend has been injured in a hit-and-run accident. The problem is that Jack has supposedly been receiving messages from a long-dead monk in the form of automatic writing, a claim that Duncan and Gemma accept without question. On top of this, there’s a painter who receives visions not only of one particular little girl but also the whereabouts of the thing that the monk is trying to lead Jack to find. And because the narrative confirms the verity of these paranormal happenings, other elements of the story are thrown into question. Did the “old gods” and the tribute they’re due actually play a part in what happened, for example?

It’s not that I dislike stories about the supernatural; it’s that it’s really bizarre when the supernatural suddenly shows up in the seventh book of a series about Scotland Yard detectives. It also bothered me that the one character who’s a skeptic about all of this is a flagrant asshole who eventually comes unhinged. In addition, I dearly hope that the paternity of a particular child was supposed to be glaringly obvious to the reader, because it sure was. Too, the conclusion is muddled, and the final line was so incredibly cheesy that I actually said, “Barf!” out loud.

All in all, this was profoundly disappointing and I hope it doesn’t signify a new trend for the series.

justice_noneAnd Justice There Is None
It is with profound relief that I proclaim that I really, really liked this one! There are absolutely no supernatural elements whatsoever, thankfully, and the investigation itself is a change of pace, too. Instead of being dispatched to some bucolic locale on Scotland Yard business, a murder is committed in Notting Hill, where Gemma is now assigned as a Detective Inspector. Moreover, she and Duncan and their respective sons move into a house nearby, which puts her family in proximity to the crime and, ultimately, the culprit.

The case involves the wife of a well-off antiques dealer who recently discovered she was pregnant by her lover. Duncan recalls a similar killing that took place a month prior, so he and Gemma work together on the case. Interspersed throughout is the story of “Angel,” a young woman who is orphaned in the mid-sixties and finds herself swept up in the London drug scene. All of the pieces eventually come together, and even though there’s one clue that lets readers know who the murderer is before Gemma has figured it out, she doesn’t end up seeming slow on the uptake. Rather, it adds an extra layer of menace when the perpetrator just happens to be strolling past their new house and has a chat with Kit (Duncan’s son).

And oh, what a house. I love that Gemma and Duncan are establishing their own family, especially given the new addition on the way. I love, too, that the pets are 100% accounted for, and that Gemma adopts a sweet new dog. Best of all, though, is that it’s Christmas. Duncan’s present to Gemma makes both her and me verklempt. I also liked seeing Gemma and Duncan working with other people, and hope that some of the nice people she encountered in the neighborhood make appearances in future books.

Ghost Diary, Vol. 1

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By Seiju Natsumegu. Released in Japan as “Kaidan Nikki” by ASCII Media Works, serialized in the magazine Dengeki Daioh. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Krista Shipley, Adapted by Shannon Fay.

For a while now, there has been a war going on in manga, though some may not have noticed it. Here at Manga Bookshelf, though, we pride ourselves on observational skills, and have watched the fallout with much interest. I am referring, of course, to the battle between manga being licensed about yokai and manga being licensed about monster girls. Both seemingly involving the same thing, but in reality these are very different beasts. Monster Girl series, with one or two exceptions, show us various types of creatures living alongside humans in society, while yokai series tend to involve humans investigating said creatures as dangerous and mysterious phenomena. Ghost Diary ran in Dengeki Daioh, so honestly I was expecting the former, but make no mistake about it, this is a relatively serious work, and its dark turns surprised me.

The plot involves a group of high-school occultists who go around searching for mysterious things. That said, most of the club are there to fill out the cast, and the real stars are Kyouichi, a teen exorcists who is haunted by a tragic past, and Mayumi, the standard cardboard cutout tsundere who likes him. Kyouichi’s older sister disappeared after a battle with a yokai that was coming after Kyouichi himself, and he’s vowed to find her. Luckily, he has help. Unluckily, it’s the worst kind of help. Chloe is a grim reaper who seemingly wants to find Kyouichi’s sister as well so she can get her memories back, and offers to help him out when he needs it, to the point of moving into his house. Unfortunately for Kyouichi, Chloe is not going to be one of those quirky mentors you see so often in these sorts of series.

As you may have guessed by my brief snarkiness in the prior paragraph, I wasn’t all that impressed with the love interest in this series, and the rest of the club is also a bit underwhelming (even the shy girl who speaks through her doll has been done better elsewhere, though I admit the overweight yakuza is new). But make no mistake about it, you want to read this manga for the relationship between Kyouichi and Chloe, as she kills his friends (then resurrects them, to be fair), destroys what might otherwise have been a heartwarming chapter about a dead baker who was moved by Kyouichi’s sister, and otherwise behaves like she may be the villain of the series. But she may not be – certainly at times she does behave very much like the mentor she wants to be, and it’s unclear if she’s the antagonist of the whole series or just a horrible creature. I want to see more of her.

This series is not for everyone – the last chapter has some disturbing rape threats from a man trapped in the body of a prepubescent boy – but overall I was pleasantly surprised. This is a dark take on a genre that already gets pretty dark. And it’s only three volumes, so I’m definitely interested in finishing it. Let’s hope that Kyouichi can survive it.

Baccano!: 1932 Drug & The Dominoes

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By Ryohgo Narita and Katsumi Enami. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Taylor Engel.

This was the final Baccano! light novel that was used in the 2007 anime adaptation, but even if you’ve seen the anime you should read this anyway, as it’s startling how much was left out and how much was changed. The anime needed a little bit more plot to add to its “let’s move back and forth between various time periods” style, and Eve’s subplot seemed to fit the bill. They had little to no use for Roy Maddock and his drug addiction, though, and so he was completely eliminated. Which is a shame, as while I have little use for Roy himself, who is not as interesting as virtually everyone else in this book, his girlfriend Edith is awesome, and having Roy also means we meet Kate Gandor, Keith’s wife – and actually hear Keith speak more than a few lines of dialogue!

Eve Genoard, younger sister to ne’er-do-well Dallas, is front and center on the cover, and I’d wager that she gets to have the hero’s journey here – as I said before, Roy is a bit too flat for me to really grant that to him. You could argue that Luck Gandor may also qualify – he’s worrying that he’s lost an essential humanity since becoming immortal, and it’s through dealing with Eve and the Runoratas that he comes to accept who he is now and realize that he hasn’t changed as much as he thought. He’s certainly unrepentant about what he did to Dallas – who, let’s remember, killed several men in the Gandor mafia clan – but he allows Eve a chance to possibly rescue Dallas from his watery grave. (Luck wonders why he was so soft-hearted, which is hilarious given that earlier in the book, all three Gandors were terrified about the idea of having to punish a woman, mafia-style, for betrayal – they end up giving her a haircut.)

This happens right after the last two books – in fact, the first third of it actually happens before the last two books, as it begins in late December 1931 and ends in early January 1932. And we do see characters from the previous books. Isaac and Miria have a smaller role than usual, but it’s their theft of the Gandor Family Fortune which sets most of this in motion, and their obsession with dominoes that gives us some more comedy, though I think it’s REALLY OBVIOUS that Narita only added that plot so he could use the title, which comes from Eric Clapton’s band Derek and the Dominoes. Firo spends most of the book grumbling and whining, which seems a bit out of character for him. And we also see a few people who look like they’re being introduced for future books, such as Tick, the Gandor family’s smiling torture specialist, and Maria, a walking Mexican stereotype who can’t stop saying “amigo” but who is a lot of fun anyway. The Daily Days also get a lot more here to do than usual, and the one morally dubious guy of their bunch gets his after a ride on the Rail Tracer express (not lethal, for once).

That said, the book ends with a sort of tragedy, and it involves another immortal who appears throughout the book – Begg, who seems to have been one of Maiza’s group who became immortal back in 1711. He’s now the Runorata family drug expert, and spends his years trying to perfect a drug that will make everyone live in their own happy world, with no problems or worries. Given the halting, jittery way he speaks, you get the feeling he’s tested a lot of drugs on himself. And, despite an attempt at a heartwarming scene with Czeslaw (which is also rife with foreshadowing), in the end we see him at the start of the 21st century, burned out in an institution, barely able to respond to Maiza. Immortals may live forever, but they can still damage their mind, and it’s sad to see, even if you question the entire premise of what Begg wanted to achieve.

All in all, a good addition to the series, with lots of fun stuff happening, though I don’t think it hits the heights of Book 2. Next time we’ll move forward a bit – quite a bit – and see what the cast is up to in 2001.

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 5

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By Mizuho Kusanagi. Released in Japan as “Akatsuki no Yona” by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by JN Productions, Adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane.

In general, I’m always a bit wary of ‘chosen one’ narratives, which Yona of the Dawn is shaping up into being. The difficulty is striking a balance between following the chosen one because you know they will be a good person who can change the world, and following the chosen one out of a literal compulsion you can’t control that draws you to them. Yona of the Dawn tries to have this both ways, and I like that the new Dragon, Jaeha, is reluctant to follow his supposed destiny, being very happy being what he is, which is a showboating, girl-loving pirate with the classic Hana to Yume “sleepy eyes”. Of course, this is still a shoujo manga, and thus the cliffhanger has him running into Yona and immediately his heart skips a beat, because of course it does – if you’re going to write romance cliches, do them properly.

Meanwhile, as predicted, the Blue Dragon decides to come with them, and even gets named by Yona, who is, of course, still the Chosen One but balances this out by being caring and loving and sweet and nice, etc. Names turn out to be pretty important in this book, as the male cast who aren’t Hak gradually start to call Yona by her first name. Hak is an exception, though, and this is the best scene in the volume, as Yona tells him the reasons that she wants him to still call her “your highness” and treat her as royalty. It’s so that they don’t forget her father or what he did. This is immediately followed up with the heartbreaking revelation that most people in the country seem to regard the late King with contempt as a terrible King, much to Yona’s distress. (In reality, putting the distance between her and Hak may be authorial fiat – let’s face it, this is a reverse harem manga with an obvious endgame, and it’s best to delay it as much as possible.)

Most of this volume is, of course, the standard quest, as Yona and company continue wandering the land hunting for Dragon Warriors. This means that they have to stop and fight injustice whenever they can, of course, even if they’re supposed to keep a low profile (Yona’s red hair really does not help with stealth missions). The humor in this book is fairly predictable, mostly revolving around Hak’s inability to practice what he preaches, and everyone (including Yona) seeming to think that he spent time in a brothel, much to his frustration. Jaeha looks like an excellent addition to the cast, balancing nicely with the other guys’ personalities. This of course assumes that he does join the main cast, and I suspect the next volume will show us Yona trying to convince him of the righteousness of her cause.

In the end, this is another top-notch volume of Yona of the Dawn, which continues to be one of Shojo Beat’s best series.

Toppu GP, Vol. 1

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In a week when The Fate of the Furious is roaring into theaters, it seems only fitting that Kodansha is releasing the first volume of Toppu GP, a manga that extols the virtues of “family values and hot rides” almost as doggedly as Vin Diesel and the rest of his car-boosting gang. The similarities don’t end there, either: both series boast cartoonish villains, pretty girls in skimpy outfits, and dialogue so ham-fisted you could serve it for Easter dinner.

I love them both.

The “family” unit in Toppu GP consists of Toppu, the eleven-year-old hero; Myne, the local motorcycle racing champion; and Teppei, Toppu’s father. Toppu is a classic shonen type: he’s sullen, brilliant, and reluctant to try anything outside of his nerdy comfort zone. (He likes to build elaborate Gundam models.) There are hints, however, that Toppu is destined for the track: he accurately gauges Myne’s qualifying times without benefit of a stopwatch, for example, and instinctually rides to victory in his second race by copying Myne’s technique.

Myne, too, is a familiar type, the sexy “big sister” who squeals and fusses over a smart, promising boy a few years her junior. (Toppu even calls her “Big Sis,” emphasizing the degree to which she’s part of his “family.”) She strides around in a tight-fitting tracksuit dispensing advice and hugs to her protege, goading him to victory with bribes. And just in case we find her more competent than adorable, she suffers from one of those only-in-manga ailments: pathological clumsiness so acute it strains credulity.

The third family member is Teppei, a single parent who’s raising Toppu while writing a novel. Though Teppei professes to be working hard on his book, his actions suggest he’d rather hang out at the track than sit at a typewriter; he spends most of volume one playing coach and mechanic to his kids, dispensing wisdom about the art of motorcycle racing. Dad’s editor must be a forgiving guy.

In contrast to the characters, who are painted in broad strokes, the layouts are executed with thrilling precision. Veteran artist Kosuke Fujishima drops us into the action through deft use of perspective and speedlines, capturing the bikes’ velocity and the riders’ positions, as well as the sheer danger of high-speed maneuvers in close proximity. Fujishima complements these images with a handy primer on G-forces, using an invisible hand to show us what Toppu and Myne feel when they accelerate down a straightaway or bank a sharp turn at high speed:

Perhaps the most astonishing aspect of Fujishima’s layouts are their economy. While many shonen artists might be tempted to stretch Toppu’s racing debut over several chapters, Fujishima uses just a handful of panels to show us how Toppu succumbs to the pleasures of competition. This transformation is bookended by two closeups, the first of Toppu’s terrified face as he pulls back on the throttle for the first time, and the second of Toppu’s gleaming eyes as he completes his final lap of the track. We see just enough action between these two panels to grasp the disparity between how quickly the race is unfolding and how slowly time passes for Toppu as he struggles to gain control of the bike, snapping back to “real” time only when Toppu realizes just how much he’s enjoying himself.

In a nod toward gender parity, Fujishima dedicates an entire chapter to showcasing Myne’s tenacity on the track as well. Though Fujishima employs many of the same strategies for immersing us in Myne’s race as he does Toppu’s, Fujishima periodically interrupts the competition with goofy, arresting images of Myne as a tracksuit wearing, sword-wielding avenger and a fiery, Medusa-haired biker. These fleeting visions are a nice bit of comic relief, echoing iconic scenes from Kill Bill and Ghost Rider, but they serve an equally important purpose: showing us how Myne’s rivals see her in competition.

As dazzling as these racing sequences are, I’d be the first to admit that the familial banter between Myne, Toppu, and Teppei feels as perfunctory as the dastardly scheming of the the Niimi brothers, the series’ first villains. (They resent Toppu’s meteoric rise in the standings and want to put him in his place.) The dialogue, too, often veers into the faintly pompous, with characters declaring how much they love “the roar of the exhaust pipe,” “the smell of burning gas and oil,” and “the gaze of the crowd” when they’re at “home.” But when Toppu or Myne jump on their bikes, the series shifts into high gear, offering the same kind of thrills as The Fate of the Furious: fast rides, fierce competition, and the ever-present threat of crashing. Recommended.

A word about buying Toppu GP: Kodansha is simultaneously publishing Toppu GP with the Japanese edition; readers can purchase new installments through Amazon and ComiXology on a weekly basis. Folks who prefer print will find the first volume available in stores now, with volume two to follow in September.

TOPPU GP, VOL. 1 • BY KOSUKE FUJISHIMA • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED T, FOR TEENS (13+)

 

The Demon Prince of Momochi House, Vol 8.

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The Demon Prince of Momochi House, Volume 8 by Aya Shouoto

This volume of The Demon Prince of Momochi House opens with a crisis, as Aoi hasn’t been able to reverse his usual transformation into the Nue, and he might be lost forever as his ayakashi form completely takes over. Himari has to go on a quest to try to find Aoi’s lost memories, which are her only hope of getting him back.

Himari first tries to locate Aoi’s family to see if there are any clues there that she can use to restore him, but her encounter with them takes an unexpected turn to the unsettling. There are always a few moments that stand out in each volume of this series when the combination of the otherworldly setting and lush detail of the art make the reader feel transported. In this one, as Himari travels into the ayakashi realm with her way lit by Nekobaba’s hairpin, she manages to find her way past a guardian who makes some references to her true name and her long-lost parents. Himari ends up at an archive for memories, which I found quite interesting as a librarian. She sees “drawers of thought” stretching into the distance and is faced with yet another choice – recovering some of her own lost memories about her past, or forgoing that choice to save Aoi. Of course, Himari doesn’t hesitate in trying to save her beloved friend.

Aoi’s memories show him close to the spirit world as a young child, even before his existence was bound to Momochi House. As Himari travels back, liberating her friend might prove more complicated, as the Nue embarks on a seduction campaign in order to preserve his existence. Demon Prince of Momochi House blends unsettling movements of supernatural mystery with some short sketches of character development and found family antics with Himari and the Momochi House spirits. Things seem to be turning in a darker direction now, but I’m confident Himari will find a way to persevere somehow.

Paying to Win in a VRMMO, Vol. 2

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

Having established its premise and characters in the first book, the Paying to Win series goes about trying to tweak and fix a few things that weren’t as strong as they could be in the second. This involves a) introducing a new potential love interest who isn’t in middle school and Ichiro’s cousin, and is also able to be a little more critical of Ichiro’s callous lack of tact; b) have a flashback to show us how he managed to get so ridiculously leveled up before Asuha was able to join him, and also explain things like how he got a suit of armor that is literally a business suit. But most importantly, and most effectively, this second volume doubles down on showing you how obviously, knowingly, and teeth-grindingly irritating Ichiro is to everyone and everything around him, and the effect this has on both the secondary characters and the reader.

I cannot emphasize this enough: holy Mother of God, Ichiro is annoying. You will want to punch him in his cool, smug, self-satisfied face multiple times as you read this book. It’s far more clear in this second novel that it’s deliberate, and reader sympathy is meant to be with the young gamer and wannabe fashion maven Iris rather than him. He is the sort of character that, were he an antagonist or a villain, would receive the absolute best retribution possible, possibly while screaming “THIS CANNOT BE!!!”. Sadly, Ichiro is the hero, and the book’s whole purpose is that he really is this good at everything. Only King Kirihito was able to actually challenge him in the game, and since this is a flashback to the previous week, you know that he’s going to succeed at everything ridiculously easily here. That said, I liked his insistence that it doesn’t matter if Iris’ butterfly brooch is aesthetically good or not – he likes it, so therefore it’s fine.

Iris herself is a good character, far more developed than Asuha/Felecia, mostly as she gets to express everything the reader wants to. Every time Ichiro praises her creations, it sounds like he’s really calling them awful, simply due to how bluntly he speaks all the time. I liked the glimpses of her real-world life, and showing off how talented kids who are used to being the center of attention can get crushed when they go to a school that specializes in talented kids and realize other people are, in fact, better than they are. She also has a nice sense for biting retorts, as I’ve said. The author’s afterword says that webnovel readers have nicknamed her “the Evil God”, and I look forward to seeing why, though I can hazard a guess or two.

Other than Iris, the main reason to plow through this book despite Ichiro is the writing style – it’s funny and assured, and the narration has its own distinct voice, something I always enjoy. This is also due to the translation, of course, which is excellent – probably my favorite J-Novel Club translation to date in terms of noticing the quality (though Sera did get gendered at one point, which only serves to remind us how ridiculously difficult it is to avoid giving away gender in English). Recommended to anyone who loves seeing smug jackasses win effortlessly and be smug about it. Also, bonus points for having Voltron show up, only one volume after the SAO sentai team parody.

The Water Dragon’s Bride, Vol. 1

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By Rei Toma. Released in Japan as “Suijin no Ikenie” by Shogakukan, serialization ongoing in the magazine Cheese!. Released in North America by Viz Media. Translated by Abby Lehrke.

Holy catfish, this is dark. Don’t be thrown off by the cutesy picture of the heroine looking adorable on the cover, this is a fantasy that comes close to pure horror at times. Starting off with every parent’s worst nightmare, we move from crisis situation to crisis situation, and it’s a small miracle that Asahi (the aforementioned heroine) manages to be as strong as she does throughout. The water dragon in question is one of those “what are these strange things called human emotions” types, who has to be reminded of things like “humans eat in order to stay alive” She manages to find a good friend in a small village, but sadly Subaru’s mother comes from the School Of Evil Moms (TM) and Asahi ends up in probably worse trouble than if she’d just stayed hidden. There’s a lot going on here, so it’s a good thing you can’t tear your eyes from it.

We actually start off in modern times, as Asahi is a normal and seemingly somewhat spoiled girl who ends up being literally dragged into her family’s backyard pond by a wave of water and winds up in a fantasy-style world. (I have a sneaking suspicion the parents will never be seen again, and shudder to think of their reaction to their daughter literally vanishing when they turned away briefly.) Luckily, she meets Subaru, a nice young kid about her age. Sadly, she has pink hair and purple eyes, something that this world does not seem to have run across, and therefore must be EEEEEVIL. As a result, they perform a ritual to the local Water God and offer up Asahi, which is to say they tie a large rock to her ankle and throw her to the bottom of the lake. Then she meets the Water Dragon, who reminds me a bit of Ayame from Fruits Basket. Sadly, it’s Ayame before he grew up and wised up, so he’s pretty much a callous jackass.

Things move on from there, and I won’t keep describing the plot, but I will once again say that there’s some amazingly traumatic stuff in here, and the artist captures it beautifully. Asahi’s sacrifice, the starvation, the skeletons in the water, the hallucinations of each other that she and Subaru see… there’s a good reason this runs in shoujo/josei hybrid Cheese! and not, say, Ribon. That said, it’s not all doom and gloom, mostly thanks to Asahi’s basic spunky personality, as even when she’s despairing she still tries hard. And there are a few laughs in the book, mostly involving the Water God getting roundly mocked by the other nature gods for being, well, a petulant manchild. I have no doubt that his maturation, with the help of Asahi, is the point of this book. That said, Asahi is about 8-9 years old, so if it does end up being a romance I’m rooting for her kid friend rather than the God. I suspect a timeskip in the near future.

In short, I was somewhat blown away by this new series. Dark it may be, but I can’t wait to read more.

Skip Beat!, Vol. 38

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Skip Beat! Volume 38 by Yoshiki Nakamura

Skip Beat! is always emotionally harrowing, but after 38 volumes, there are plenty of different character relationships and plot points that can be explored for maximum drama. This volume finally confronts Kyoko’s relationship with her mother. After seeing the ways Kyoko has been damaged by her abandonment as a child throughout Skip Beat! up until this point, this confrontation is a long time coming, and Kyoko’s reactions and resilience show just how far she’s come.

This volume of Skip Beat! starts out with Sho being an idiot, because a little bit of comic relief is useful before delving into childhood trauma. Kyoko and Ren are also firmly locked into the misunderstandings and delicate emotional balance that causes any interaction between them to be weighted down with layers of unspoken feelings, elements of comfort, and pure anxiety. Kyoko’s encounter with Ren is helping build up her up psychologically, and she comments “I’ll prepare myself body and spirit, since I’ll be fighting a psywar in a blizzard”.

As Kyoko heads towards meeting her mother, she’s keeps her “Love Me” stamp with an infinite number of points that she received from Ren close by, like a token to take into battle. Kyoko first has a conversation with one of her mother’s co-workers in leading up to the main event. Kyoko begins to wonder about her father, and if her mother Saena experienced something similar to the rejection that she experienced from Sho, that kicked off her desire for vengeance. Saena is caught up in biases and assumptions, thinking that Kyoko dropped out of school and that she had a physical relationship with Sho. Saena’s stubbornness and strong facade makes it difficult to communicate with her.

As Kyoko and Saena face off, Nakamura’s portrayal of demons lurking in the background of the conversation and dramatic micro-expressions shows the charged nature of the confrontation. Their conversation is interrupted by flashbacks of a younger Saena struggling to make her way as a lawyer, and seemingly torn between her job and the idea of love. While Saena’s backstory might place her actions in context, it doesn’t really the cruel way she abandoned her daughter. This storyline is obviously going to be stretched out over several volumes, and I have to admit I’m feeling more anxious about Kyoko than I have in awhile! I’m hoping that the maturity that she’s built up over time helps her deal with whatever emotional bombshell her mother is about to drop. Skip Beat! continues to be extremely rewarding for readers, and I’m happy it is still going so strong after 38 volumes.

Assassination Classroom, Vol. 15

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By Yusei Matsui. Released in Japan by Shueisha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Jump. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by Tetsuichiro Miyaki. Adapted by Bryant Turnage.

(This review talks about *that* spoiler, the one everyone already knows, but I thought I’d warn you anyway.)

Now that we have the North American Weekly shonen Jump magazine, serializing the popular series at the same time they come out in Japan, surprises are very difficult to hold on to. Doubly so here, as the anime has also aired. But at the time when the Kaede Kayano revelation came out, it was quite a surprise, trust me, and everyone went back to look at their previous volumes to see if this was something truly planned fro the beginning or something that the author came up with on the fly. He helpfully tells us that it’s the former, showing us tiny specs of art that hinted that Kayano was Not What She Seemed. And this extends forward as well, as Kayano is in reality the younger sister of the class’ former teacher, who she alleges that Koro-sensei killed. How that happened is apparently part of the next volume. Yusei Matsui really ties this together beautifully, making it one of the best volumes in this already excellent series.

I’ve complained a few times about how, given she’s the closest thing we get to a female lead among the students, Kayano’s character has been somewhat flat. Now it turns out that this was not only deliberate but engineered on her part, trying not to attract too much attention and therefore setting herself up as the cute but plain friend of the real “main character”, Nagisa. The flashbacks not only show the lengths she went to to engineer her attack on Koro-sensei (who, as she reminds us herself, she named in the first place), but also the tremendous pain that hiding her altered state has caused her over the past several months. It’s been the perfect acting job. That said, sometimes you can get too caught up in your role, and Nagisa sees what Kayano isn’t letting herself – that she really has had fun in this class, made true friendships, and most importantly, has seen that Koro-sensei is maybe not the sister-murdering monster she thought.

This leads to the funniest scene of the volume, where Nagisa has to stop a dying Kayano from burning out her brain due to overuse of her tentacled form. He does this by a callback to Irina’s ‘foreign language techniques’, essentially kissing her into submission. Not only is this great ship fodder for fans of this pairing (and no doubt very annoying to Nagisa/Karma fans), but we also see Irina saying that he could have done better, the other students muttering that *they* could have done better, and Karma and Rio getting pictures and video of the whole thing on their cellphones, because they are glorious assholes. The entire scene just calls out how well-written the whole series is.

There are other things going on here, mostly in the first half. We learn about the principal’s past, which shows – surprise! – that he’s a former idealist who had tragedy turn him to the dark side. And the Peach Boy play, which is hysterical and also features a glorious moment where they discuss Kayano acting in a lead role, and she quickly ducks and says she’ll be in charge of props. (Highlights of the play discussion also include Irina suggesting the student’s do a strip show, and Karma suggesting Nagisa act in drag as Sada Abe (which Viz, wisely probably, forces the curious to Google). If you avoided the series before because it looked too silly or the premise was sketchy, you should definitely catch up, as it’s top tier Shonen Jump. And if you already read the weekly chapters and saw the anime, buy this anyway, as the reread factor is high.

My Big Sister Lives in a Fantasy World: Humanity’s Extinction Happens During Summer Vacation?!

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By Tsuyoshi Fujitaka and An2A. Released in Japan as “Neechan wa Chuunibyou” by Hobby Japan. Released in North America digitally by J-Novel Club. Translated by Elizabeth Ellis.

After three volumes, I’m still not quite sure how seriously I should be taking this series. Based on the premise and what actually happens in the books, you’d think the answer would be ‘not seriously at all’. And that’s probably the right answer, given the sheer amount of ridiculous things going on here. This is a parody of a certain melancholic series, and as a result is going to be over the top. At the same time, this is also the “this was a success, please expand on the plot and backstory a bit” volume, so we start to try to understand why Mutsuko is the way she is, and why Yuichi woke up one day seeing ‘roles’ over people’s heads. It’s a worthy goal, I suppose, but does mean you get a lot of wordy exposition at the start of the book, and if you think about it too hard it doesn’t really explain much at all.

The story picks up where we left off, with the club (and younger sister, who is there just because) heading off to a remote island, where Mutsuko has planned survival training. The remote island is a bit blatant, to the point where the characters spend several pages discussing the Haruhi equivalent without actually naming it. Once they get there, after conveniently jettisoning the minor characters, they find themselves drawn into a cult conspiracy to sacrifice virgins in order to resurrect an alien who is being worshipped as a god by the local anthropomorphic villagers. Yuichi, along with Natsuki, his serial killer-turned-love interest, is sidelined from the sacrificing for the most part, which is likely a relief, as when he does arrive to confront the God, he ends up one-shot killing it. In between these events, we get Aiko worrying about her vampiric heritage, Yoriko vacillating about how incestuous she really is, and Mutsuko being both obnoxious and disturbing at the same time.

When the book is being as light and frothy as this synopsis makes it sound, it’s excellent. Yuichi’s deadpan “well, whatever” reaction to events is shared by others in the cast now, and makes the whole thing less ridiculous and overpowered than it would sound if it was written in a more grandiose manner. Much as the series is riffing on Haruhi (to the point where much of the exposition discusses the idea that certain people can influence the world so that it obeys their whims, with the implication that Mutsuko is one such person), Mutsuko and Yuichi are only superficially similar to Haruhi and Kyon. Where the book falters a bit for me is when it does try to take itself too seriously. Kanako’s discussion about why she likes isekai stories hints at a much darker take on her character than I’d expected, and given how little she matters in the books to date it feels like pure setup and nothing else. Also, if you’re going to mock the “the sacrifices have to be virgins” cliche, don’t follow through with the “the non-virgins were raped and killed” part of that. You can’t mock your cliche and eat it too. That left a bad taste in my mouth.

In the end, this is an enjoyable series of books, but I find I’m enjoying the metatext a bit more than the text. the series walks a fine line between deconstructing this sort of light novel schtick and just going along with it. So far it holds up, but it needs to realize that dropping more serious content into the middle of it may be harder than initially thought. We’ll see what happens next – judging by its subtitle, the fourth book looks to double down on the Haruhi comparisons.

Species Domain, Vol. 1

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By Shunsuke Noro. Released in Japan by Akita Shoten, serialization ongoing in the magazine Bessatsu Shonen Champion. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Krista Shipley, Adapted by Karie Shipley.

Monster Girl titles are here to stay, and have tended to come in two varieties. Thankfully, this is the second variety, and so fanservice and borderline content is not on the menu. Instead, this is something that should appeal to fans of series like My Monster Secret or Interviews with Monster Girls, as it has much the same flavor. It can be a bit odd and off kilter, though not so much that it reaches the out there weirdness of A Centaur’s Life. Its strongest qualities is its dialogue, of which there is a lot – this is a series with a group of classmates who talk and talk and talk, and it’s a relief we find the talk funny. And there are the usual manga cliches present within – the elf girl is a misunderstood tsundere, the angel girl is overenthusiastic and puppydog-ish, the dwarf girl is low key and stoic, etc. It’s solid and unassuming.

This is not a “I must hide my secret from the world” sort of book – there are several fantasy types at the school, and it’s accepted as simply being part of how the world works. That said, Kazamori, the elf girl on the cover, is battling the fact that everyone assumes she’s an elf who can use cool wind magic and has powers – except she’s been raised by humans, so has nothing of the sort. What’s worse, she feels the need to act haughty and proud as an elf should, even though the turmoil of emotions that stir within her is a more accurate read of her character. It also leads to most of the humor in the book, particularly when she collides with Ohki, a normal boy who denies that magic exists – everything can be explained with science. Which is fine, except all of the ‘science’ he demonstrates is ludicrously impossible to anyone but him.

This is the start, but refreshingly we also do focus on the other characters. It’s hard not to look at Unli the dwarf and not think of Terry Pratchett’s Cheery, as she’s essentially a cute small schoolgirl with a full beard and a penchant for meat. I was very amused at the relationship between her and her human classmate Tanaka, which everyone interprets as romantic and then when they find out it’s really not all hell breaks loose in terms of their suppositions. The title really seems to enjoy making fun of audience expectations – there’s an omake chapter that has Kazamori dream of what would happen if she was the cool girl with elf powers she wants to be, and Ohki was the fired up “I will prove it is science” shonen lead, and it’s hilariously boring.

Like many recent licenses these days, this will not win any awards for originality or surprises, but it’s fun and likeable, the sort of manga that you read with a smile on your face, even if it sometimes turns into a bit of a smirk. The translation and adaptation are excellent as well, which is key for a series that depends so much on its conversations. A good debut, recommended for fans of the ‘monster girl’ genre or comedic school manga in general.

Flying Witch, Vol. 1

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By Chihiro Ishizuka. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Bessatsu Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Vertical Comics. Translated by Melissa Tanaka.

Relaxed and easygoing titles have always been a thing in Japanese manga to some extent, but over the last ten years or so it really seems to look like they’re coming into their own, or at least coming to North America more often. Whether it’s school life, village life, or workplace life, there is a growing need for watching a cast of mild to strong eccentrics go about life at their own pace, usually with at last one “straight man” to boggle at their antics. And as you may have gathered, Flying Witch continues in this genre, showing us a young witch who moves out into the sticks in order to train, and her laidback adventures with a group of (mostly) normal villagers.

Makoto is the witch, and she’s a bit of an airhead, although not to the extremes that some of these series try to go. She wants to do her best to be a better witch, but is easily distracted, has a Ryouga Hibiki-like sense of direction, and also has absolutely no idea how to hide her identity as a witch, which is supposed to be a secret, from anyone at all. She’s moved in with her cousins, and on the very first day she’s trying out a new broom in front of the youngest one, not particularly noticing that she isn’t supposed to be floating in the air. The cousin, Chinatsu, is probably my favorite character in the book; at first shy and a little reluctant to like this new girl, she gradually warms up once she realizes Makoto is a witch, and is a nicely realistic young girl.

Less successful is Kei, the main male lead, who unfortunately is not straight-laced enough to be the main “tsukkomi” that this series needs. (That falls to his classmate Nao, who holds up her end of the bargain admirably, and is the recipient of the manga’s funniest and also possibly creepiest moment.) Kei is simply too laid back and relaxed, and as a result has a tendency to have no personality. He seems to be a ‘minder’ sort, like Yotsuba’s dad, but these girls are too old to really need to take charge of, so mostly he exists so that the series isn’t made up entirely of girls. I was pleased to see that the witch aspect was not forgotten – this felt like one of those series that would settle into slice-of-life and forget its roots, but each chapter does have a small element of the supernatural in it, from the terrifying mandrake root to the Harbinger of Spring (whose matter-of-fact introduction reminded me of some of the better Zetsubou-sensei chapters) to Makoto’s older and more accomplished sister, who arrives, makes chaos, and then leaves.

There’s not much to grab a hold of here, and I doubt a “real” plot will form. But who wants a real plot to form anyway? Flying Witch is filled with cute, nice, slightly weird girls living their everyday life and doing witchcraft. If you enjoy slice-of-life eccentricity, it’s right in your strike zone.

Altair: A Record of Battles, Vol. 1

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Altair: A Record of Battles seems tailor-made for fanfic: it’s got a cast of achingly pretty men, a labyrinthine plot, and an exotic setting that freely mixes elements of Turkish, Austrian, and Bedouin cultures. Like other series that inspire such fan-ish activity — Hetalia: Axis Powers comes to mind — Altair is more interesting to talk about than to read, thanks to an exposition-heavy script and an abundance of second- and third-string characters; you’ll need a flowchart to keep track of who’s who.

The first volume begins promisingly enough. While visiting the Türkiye capitol, a diplomat from the neighboring Balt-Rhein Empire is assassinated in the streets, an arrow lodged in his back. Though the murder weapon suggests that someone in the Balt-Rhein military engineered the hit, Emperor Goldbalt’s mustache-twirling subordinate Louis Virgilio points the finger at Türkiye, insisting they produce the killer or face the ultimate consequence: war. Mahmut, the youngest member of the Türkiye generals’ council, impulsively decides to visit Goldblat’s court in an effort to prevent bloodshed and reveal the true culprit in Minister Franz’s death.

No matter how intensely the characters ball their fists or glower at each other, however, their drawn-out arguments over troop mobilization, international diplomacy, and rules of order are only moderately more entertaining than an afternoon of watching C-SPAN. Author Kotono Kato further burdens the script with text boxes indicating characters’ rank and title, and diagrams showing the distribution of power under the Türkiye “stratocracy,” details that add little to the reader’s understanding of why Balt-Rhein and Türkiye are teetering on the brink of war. Only a nighttime ambush stands out for its dynamic execution; it’s one of the few scenes in which Kato allows the pictures to speak for themselves, effectively conveying the ruthlessness of Mahmut’s enemies without the intrusion of voice-overs or pointed dialogue.

The characters are just as flat as the storytelling. Kato’s flair for costume design is symptomatic of this problem: she’s confused surface detail — sumptuous fabrics, towering hats, sparkling jewels — with character development. With the exception of Mahmut, whose passionate intensity and youthful arrogance are evident from the very first scene, the other characters are walking, talking plot devices whose personalities can be summed up in a word or two: “brash,” “devious,” “enthusiastic,” “mean.” (Also “hot” and “well dressed,” for anyone who’s keeping score.) The shallowness of the characterizations robs the Türkiye/Balt-Rhein conflict of urgency, a problem compounded by Kato’s tendency to wrap things up with epilogues that are as baldly worded as a textbook study guide. At least you’ll be prepared for the quiz.

The bottom line: History buffs will enjoy drawing parallels between the Türkiye and Balt-Rhein Empires and their real-life inspirations, but most readers will find Altair too labored to be compelling — unless, of course, they’re looking for fresh opportunities to ‘ship some handsome characters.

ALTAIR: A RECORD OF BATTLES, VOL. 1 • BY KOTONO KATO • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED T, FOR TEENS • DIGITAL ONLY