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A First Look at Tokyo Tarareba Girls

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Are you breathlessly awaiting the next installment of Princess Jellyfish? Still fuming over Tokyopop’s cancellation of Suppli? Eagerly searching for a manga romance whose heroine is old enough to drink? Then I have the cure for what ails you: Akiko Higashimura’s Tokyo Tarareba Girls, which makes its digital debut tomorrow (2/14) courtesy of Kodansha Comics. This fizzy, fast-paced comedy is every bit as good as Higashimura’s Princess Jellyfish, deftly mixing wacky misunderstandings and witty banter with moments of genuine rue and self-reflection.

The first chapter begins with the narrator declaring, “I spent all my time wondering ‘What if,’ and then one day I woke up and was 33.” As Rinko fills us in on her career, female readers will feel an immediate sense of identification with her — she’s smart, capable, and constantly imagining her future instead of being fully invested in the present, something many of us are guilty of doing in our twenties and early thirties. Though Rinko has forged her own career path, she frets over being single. Rinko isn’t alone in her frustration, since Kaori and Kayuki — her gal pals and drinking buddies — are in the same boat.

The plot is set in motion by a cryptic message from Rinko’s co-worker Hayasaka. In a brief flashback to 2004, we see Rinko and Hayasaka on an uncomfortable date: she focuses on his shyness, his clothing, and his fumbling efforts to be suave, while he ignores her squirming and tries to give her an unwanted gift. Ten years later, both still work for the same company, although there’s a lingering note of tension — or is that romantic frisson? — between them. When Hayasaka sends Rinko a text asking, “I would like to discuss something with you. Could I trouble you for some time later this week?” Rinko immediately declares a “four-alarm” emergency and reaches out to her girls for counsel: after all this time, is Mr. Hayasaka planning to propose? And if so, should she say yes?

If you’re thinking been there, seen that, I get it. Tokyo Tarareba Girls sounds like a hundred other comedies about single women navigating a paired-off world, from Bridget Jones’ Diary to How to Be Single. What prevents Tarareba Girls from reading like a Sex in the City clone is Higashimura’s storytelling chops.

Consider Higashimura’s strategy for making us privy to Rinko’s thoughts. Though Rinko often functions as the series’ narrator, Higashimura looks for more imaginative ways to dramatize Rinko’s emotional life than simple disclosure. In one scene, for example, Rinko’s food — yes, you read that right — cheerfully engages her in a conversation about her romantic dilemma:

Coming from one of her gal pals, this exchange would sound too on-the-nose, a bald statement of the manga’s main thesis. But coming from an izakaya dish? That’s genius! It allows us a window into Rinko’s state of mind (and her state of intoxication) without falling back on such shop-worn devices as the “Dear Diary” entry or the “Little did I know then…” voice-over.

Elsewhere in chapter one, Higashimura uses a similar technique of transposing Rinko’s inner thoughts onto the outer world, using the visual language of action movies — explosions, falling debris — to evoke the intensity of Rinko’s embarrassment over misunderstanding a friendly overture:

This sequence, too, is genius: anyone who’s ever read too much into an email, a voice mail, a text, or a friendly conversation knows exactly how Rinko feels in that moment and can laugh — or cringe — in self-recognition. At the same time, however, the reader can also see that Rinko’s romantic delusions are blinding her to the real lesson of turning 33: that she should learn what — or who — she really wants instead of settling for Mr. Not Quite Right.

The first chapter ends with the introduction of a prickly, truth-telling character whose appearance adds a welcome jolt of energy to the story; his barroom sermon about self-defeating female behavior is a show-stopper, both for its blunt honesty and for the impact it has on Rinko and her pals. Whether he becomes Rinko’s enemy or love interest, his memorable exit leaves the reader wanting to know what happens next — further proof of Higashimura’s storytelling mojo.

TOKYO TARAREBA GIRLS, VOL. 1 • BY AKIKO HIGASHIMURA • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED OT, FOR OLDER TEENS (16+) 

Overlord: The Bloody Valkyrie

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By Kugane Maruyama and so-bin. Released in Japan by Enterbrain. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Emily Balistrieri.

There is a glut of light novels at the moment based on the game stats premise, be it “trapped in a game” or that the world simply works like a game. This includes Overlord, which manages to be a combination of both. At its best, Overlord shows us the cognitive dissonance between what Ainz is thinking in his head and what is actually happening, or what his minions are actually doing without his knowledge. At its worst, it gets bogged down in long grinding fights that are simply collections of spell moves. Overlord seems to be very much in the Dungeons and Dragons mode, which is fine for worldbuilding, but to keep the mechanics of it as well means that for non-gamers, the climactic fight can get amazingly tedious at times. Which is not what you want to hear about what you’ve spent the entire book building to.

This book also spends a large amount of time away from ainz – he doesn’t show up till a third of the way in – and thus also shows that the book is best when it focuses on him. I can see why we had the extended prologue – the plot is that his minion Shalltear has been mind-controlled, so we need to spend a fair amount of time with her at the start so that we actually get a sense about what the mind control really means and can try to care about her. Unfortunately, this is Overlord, a series made up of evil villains. And so Shalltear is a monster, who only seems sympathetic because the humans that she lays to waste here are a bunch of thugs who like to rape and rob young women. Her best moment was when she ran into one of the humans Ainz met in Book 2, who has one of his potions. This accidentally saves the girl’s life, as Shalltear has no idea why Ainz gave it to her, and so doesn’t dare kill her.

We are at the “this is successful, go ahead and expand your subplots” point in the series as well, so we get a few characters who show up and I suspect will be plot-relevant later on. This includes the somewhat ineffectual king, whose only ally seems to be his noble soldier (who we met in Vol. 1 thanking Ainz for defending the village). There’s also the king’s young daughter, who is gorgeous and beloved and I suspect has a lot more to her, and the daughter’s somewhat overly serious and twitchy bodyguard. And there is the unfortunately named Brain (it’s OK, the bodyguard’s name is Climb), who has spent much time training to be the strongest only to run into someone who completely breaks him to bits with no effort at all. The humans in this book tend to be cannon fodder, but he actually gets away, so we’ll see if he shows up again.

As I indicated, this is best when focused on Ainz and his inner monologues, meaning it’s the middle third that held my interest most. Overlord is still a series well worth reading. But it could stand a good editing, and eventually I will have to get used to the fact that it’s a bunch of bad guys power-tripping.

Secret of the Princess

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By Milk Morinaga. Released in Japan as “Ohime-sama no Himitsu” by Shinshokan, serialized in the magazine Hirari. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Jennifer McKeon, Adapted by Shannon Fay.

Morinaga Milk’s books are simply nice. They’re sweet. They put a smile on your face. They are not the most original books in the world – in fact, they sometimes have so many cliches that they rack up a Yuri Trope Bingo before they’re halfway done – but they’re smooth reads, and you don’t have to worry about serious tragedy befalling anyone. There is angst in this volume, don’t get me wrong, but it’s the sort of book where one of the heroines threatening to kill herself by jumping off a roof is treated as a loving confession rather than an actual suicide attempt. If you try to attack too much reality to this, it begins to come apart, but that’s the point. It’s yuri fantasy.

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. At an all-girls school, Fujiwara is the tall, athletic, cool, one-quarter Western beauty who all the girls admire. She’s also just accidentally destroyed the principal’s expensive vase. This is witnessed by Miu, a girly young first year whose mother has drilled into her that the secrets to catching a good husband. Of course, at an all-girls school, men are thin on the ground, so Miu has no idea how actual dating works. So, in exchange for her silence, she asks Fujiwara to pretend to date her so she can discover how this all works. Of course, she doesn’t consider the jealousy of her fellow students, or Fujiwara’s own loneliness and need for the social interactions that she gains with Miu, or, of course, her own growing and conflicting feelings.

Miu can be a weak part of this book – she’s a bit hard to take and frustrating, though she improves as the volume goes on. This is complete in one book, and a short book at that, so there’s not really much time to slowly develop anything. Fujiwara fares better, having a home life that seems to be mostly filled with maids (of course she lives in a rich mansion, have you read this genre before?) and her friend Hirosawa, who is also a short-haired beauty with a fan club but is second to Fujiwara. (The shoujo dynamic of the blond taking second place to the brunet lead seems to be reversed for Yuri titles.) Other than that, there’s not much to talk about – they date cute, break up when they start feeling guilty about the “falseness” of things, get back together dramatically, and end up in bed (though fleetingly – for the most part, this is pretty squeaky-clean.)

So it’s not mind-boggling, but it’s nice to see some sweet titles coming out here after a year of Citrus and Netsuzou Trap. And we have more from this author coming up next month as well. I suspect it will be sweet, fluffy, somewhat insubstantial, and yuri. Much as this is.

Strike the Blood, Vol. 5

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By Gakuto Mikumo and Manyako. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Jeremiah Bourque.

As always, Strike the Blood does what it wants competently and efficiently, with good pacing and a nice balance between the hero and his various female leads. And yet it continues to be one of the most frustrating light novel series that I follow, because it is content to be simply that. There’s potential for a lot more here, and at times the series looks as if it’s going to show you that potential… and then it backs off, content to give us a comedic perverted parent, or a bath scene with a giant nosebleed, or Yukina saying her catchphrase again with all the well-crafted timing of a Swiss watch. Strike the Blood is what it is, and thus I will never get to experience what I have with most other cliched light novel series, which is the joy of seeing the books get better as they go along.

This is the second half of a two-part arc, and as such we hit the ground running, with less development and more fights. Sadly, this also means less development for Yuuma, who is injured enough to be shunted to the side for the majority of the book, until the climax where she shows up to use her clone status against her mother. There is talk of the idea of her being a disposable tool being wrong, which would probably read a lot better of the author weren’t treating her like a disposable tool, using her to help resolve things at the climax and then cheerfully writing her out to go serve time as an accessory. We also finally meet Kojou’s mother, who is unaware (possibly) that he is a vampire now, and is an absurdly youthful genius doctor mom who has a tendency to feel up girls for fun. I called this “TV Tropes: The Novel” last time, and that hasn’t changed. His mother is there to provide gropes and exposition, and stop Yuuma from dying.

As for the plot itself, as the villain cheerfully admits, half of it is an excuse for a giant runaround using minibosses to build up tension but never actually do much beyond sort of threaten the hero and heroines and then get dealt with. I was happy to see Asagi get something more substantial to do – she remains my favorite of the three main heroines, and her solution to the first miniboss battle showed off her smarts (with the help of her AI that controls the entire island). Sadly, the main villain herself is less interesting, which is especially irritating as she didn’t have to be. There’s suggestion of a deeper story between her and Natsuki, and we even see a brief flashback, but it’s just spice to show why she hasn’t merely killed everyone before this. If we’d gotten an entire chapter devoted to Natsuki and Aya’s school days and what led to her descent into mad villainy, I might have praised it. But we don’t.

I keep hoping this will get bad enough for me to drop, but it’s far too efficient for that. It has dropped a new novel in our laps, and we will read it, vaguely enjoy it, be disappointed at what could have been, adn then forget about entirely until the next book. Sigh.

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 4

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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.

Yona of the Dawn started off pretty serious, given the nature of its plot. It always had some humor, but in the midst of regicide and fleeing from a murderous former trusted friend, you can understand why things were a bit edgy for a while. But now Yona is collecting allies, and learning to shoot a bow, and things are looking up even if she is occasionally still attacked by bandits or led into deathtraps by terrified villagers. This allows the author to bring in a lot more humor – the third volume already had a lot of this, but this one finds almost the perfect balance between action fantasy, tragic backstory, and hilarious shenanigans.

the hilarity tends to come from three different places. First we have Yun, the resident tsukkomi of the group, who keeps them from dying in the middle of the woods and tries to provide actual common sense among a group that sorely needs it. His line in snark is good, but it’s his offhand introduction of himself as “genius pretty boy” that made me giggle most. (And he’s not wrong – this is a very attractive cast in general.) Hak and Gija, meanwhile, are both attracted to Yona, though they either won’t admit it or aren’t aware of it, so this naturally puts them at each other’s throats. Luckily it’s in a comedic way, and I was reminded a couple of times of the dynamic between Legolas and Ginli – particularly with counting the number of dead bandits. And there’s also Yona, whose humor comes when she steps away from her princess and savior mode in order to, say, beat her would-be lovers across the head, or insult a squirrel’s name. This is a very amusing book.

This does not take away from its other qualities, though. We meet another Dragon Warrior here, and his past is tragic and filled with violence, and I suspect meeting Yona will be the best thing that ever happens to him – though you may need to convince him a little more first. It’s easy to be terrified of someone who’s different from you, especially if they have a mysterious power that can seemingly kill people. Luckily, nameless Blue Dragon (he was too unloved to be given a name!) is found by Yona and company. There are also lots of fights interspersed through the volume, which Yona does not take part in, though she is getting better with a bow. I like the scene where Hak admits he hates the idea of her learning to fight but loves the idea of her learning to be stronger – it strikes a nice balance between the patriarchal “women shouldn’t be doing this” and his growing respect for Yona as a young woman.

I’m not sure how long it will take to convince the Blue Dragon to come with them – not long, I expect, it’s not like he has much tying him down – but I eagerly await things being resolved in the next book. Must-read shoujo fantasy.

Mixed Bathing in Another Dimension: The Hero of the Unlimited Bath

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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 Dan Luffey.

One of the benefits of rock-bottom expectations is the numerous ways you can be pleasantly surprised. Light novels in general, particularly those licensed in North America, tend to cater to the older teen/younger adult male reader. “Isekai” books, where our hero is transported to another world, are already a hoary cliche. And let’s face it, this was advertised as a harem novel which features the hero bathing with any number of girls. It had the potential to be bad on a monumental scale. Luckily, it isn’t. Now, don’t get me wrong. The plot is still as traditional as heck, it applies that weird harem logic whereupon our hero is deeply in love with a girl till she vanishes from his sight and the next one comes along, and there is endless talk of butts, boobs, and naked flesh. That said, let me tell you why I actually enjoyed this.

First of all, there is the twist in the premise. Yes, this is a standard “Japanese kids brought over to fantasy world to save the kingdom from invasion by demons” plot. Each of the five summoned (though we only really deal with two, our hero and first heroine) get a power that is supposed to help then become a hero and destroy evil. The snag is that Touya’s power is the ability to open a door to a standard Japanese bathroom wherever he is, with unlimited supplies of water, shampoo, etc. The fun here is seeing not only how he uses this in the ways you’d expect (he’s in medieval fantasy land, so the idea of shampoo is amazing to them), but also in ways that would never occur to you (the final boss battle in the book, which is so hilarious I don’t want to spoil it). Touya is a clever kid, and I like how he keeps thinking of both the strengths and weaknesses on his useless power. (Note this isn’t a hot spring or public bath – it’s a bath you’d find in a home, and seats two if they’re very friendly.)

The other, even more surprising thing is how the main characters actually communicate with each other. This is a harem adventure, after all. You expect tsunderes left and right, the hero tripping and falling into boobs, lots of lecherous grins, etc. But no, Touya is a normal teenage boy. Which means that yes, he thinks of sex all the time. But it’s not taken to any pervy extremes. More importantly, he actually communicates with the women he meets! Consent is super important throughout this book, and I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to type that. Over and over again Touya tells the girls the nature of his magic bath, the fact that he has to be *in* it to have it work, and that yes, nudity will probably be involved. He asks if they’re OK with this at every single step. And they are, of course, though they’re nice girls too. In fact, Touya and Haruno falling for each other, although swifter than you’d like, is really cute and sweet. They even kiss! Halfway through Vol. 1! What kind of harem adventure is this?

A few more minuses – in addition to the basics I mentioned in the first paragraph, there’s that odd Japanese idea that thinking about sex AT ALL makes a person a ‘pervert’, which I’ve come across in more works than this. And once again we get a hero who has to emphasize over and over that he’s not gay, just in case the presence of other men in the narrative – even if they’re giant lizardmen – might cause the reader to question their sexuality. But overall, this was a lot better than I expected, especially on the romantic end. I’d still only recommend it to male readers, but if you’re wary of the ‘traditional’ harem story, you should give this one a try.

Kindred Spirits on the Roof: The Complete Collection

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By Hachi Ito, Aya Fumio and Toitentsu, based on the visual novel by Liar-Soft. Released in Japan in two separate volumes as “Okujou no Yurirei-san” by Shinshokan, serialized in the magazine Hirari. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Amy Osteraas; Adapted by David Liederman.

The success of Kindred Spirits on the Roof as a visual novel was one of the big events of 2016 – indeed, I even reviewed the game here – so it shouldn’t be a surprise that Seven Seas would pick up a manga adaptation of it. What is a surprise is that this isn’t just the usual manga adaptation of the visual novel itself; instead, you get two long stories that take place the year after the game happened, featuring new characters but with many cameos and supporting appearances from our heroines we know and love. This, of course, also allows the authors to hook up new couples, something that wasn’t likely to happen if they focused on the already resolved game pairings.

This was released in Japan as two separate volumes, “Side A” and “Side B”, by two different artist teams. As with many series that follow this path, the A side is better. Shiori is a shy student with a talent for art who is trying to recover from her best friend confessing to her the previous year. They haven’t spoken since, though it doesn’t appear to be because Shiori isn’t interested (certainly not in THIS series, at least), but because she has no idea what to say or how to react, and also she’s a giant introvert. Luckily, she’s in a class with Hina and Seina, two of the visual novel’s heroines, and they can help give her perspective and also talk about their own experiences. As this year’s cultural festival comes up, Shiori finds the courage to tell Maki how she really feels. The festival also gives us an opportunity to have everyone else cameo, even the girls who had graduated (and the ghosts, though they’re reduced to sort of smiling down on the new lesbians from heaven, as one does).

The second half isn’t quite as gripping, though it isn’t actually bad or anything. Chiharu is also a new first-year, and she’s a fan of yuri pairs (boy, did she come to the right school). When she sees two upperclassmen try to get members for the quiz club, she’s enthralled… not by quizzes, but at the thought of what a cute couple they’d make. Joining the club, she finds a kindred spirit (see what I did there?) in Tokino, who is taller and more reserved but also a yuri fan. If this manga weren’t so light and fluffy, this would be a recipe for disaster. But it is light and fluffy, and so Chiharu and Tokino turn out to be correct, and resolve to help push their two sempais together… and possibly learn something more about their own relationship. There are fewer cameos here, so things lean more heavily on the new girls.

Both stories are cute and fluffy and not too deep, and filled with cute fluffy high school yuri. I do think that anyone who wants to read them should play the game first; it adds to the experience of knowing who all these people are. If you have played the game, you’ll definitely want to buy this.

The Faraway Paladin: The Boy in the City of the Dead

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

So far J-Novel Club has about five or six titles going, and most of them are light novels that have one thing in common: they have that ‘light novel’ feel to them. There’s the obvious ones, like titles that are far too long, and Big Sisters and Little Sisters galore, but even the odder choices like Grimgar or Occultic;Nine still feel like a Japanese anime/manga franchise. The Faraway Paladin is an exception to this rule. It is technically a light novel, in that it was published in Japan and has intermittent illustrations, but there the similarities end. Instead, what The Faraway Paladin does is give you a dark fantasy, a coming-of-age story, an epic battle to save the souls of your adopted family, and easily the best book they’ve released to date.

I take that back, there is one other common Japanese light novel trope: our hero, Will, is actually a reincarnation of a Japanese boy, a loser shut-in who seemingly never tried to achieve anything, never mourned the death of his parents, and died alone and unfulfilled. Now he’s reincarnated as a baby… but with his old memories. That said, except for one point towards the end of the book, this is pretty irrelevant. It’s there to allow him to narrate the story from infancy without worrying about tone, and to show off why he has such heroic resolve to grow and learn as fast as possible: he regrets his old life, and wants to do better. Helping him are the three who are raising him: a skeleton, a mummy and a ghost. They teach him magic, teach him fighting, teach him basic daily life skills, and turn him into a strapping young lad ready to set out into the world. Then their past catches up…

I’ll be honest, I was expecting ‘raise the boy to be a warrior’ to take up maybe the first quarter of this book, but no, the entire first volume is devoted to his upbringing. This is a good thing, as it lets the plot breathe, and gives you time to get to know each of these characters. The cast is deliberately small, and each person gets a good amount of development, angst, and overcoming said angst. In the second half, things get a lot more action packed, as well as darker in tone, and the pace picks up in an appropriate way. The resolution is somewhat telegraphed, but not in a way that makes it predictable, more in an “ah, I knew it!” sort of way. Most of all, the book is simply well-written, and everyone is likeable and fun to read about. Even the ghost, who can be a grumpy old cuss. (Terrific translation, as well – probably the best of the company’s to date.)

Basically, this is a good novel to give to people who don’t like all the tropes associated with light novels – they’re absent here. And it’s simply a good fantasy in general. (You can tell I really like it as I’m holding myself back from giving everything away in the review.) Highly recommended, and I look forward to seeing the direction the series takes.

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 4

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Yona of the Dawn Volume 4 by Mizuho Kusanagi

Yona of the Dawn is firmly in the “get the team together” quest story line that is so common in fantasy manga, but even though the plot is predictable, I’m enjoying it greatly just due ot the character interactions along the way and the interesting world building. It wouldn’t be a team without plenty of bickering, and the first chapter of this volume shows Gija and Hak constantly going at it as they both want the role of Yona’s main protector. Gija’s sheltered upbringing in his remote village doesn’t exactly prepare him for life on the open road, as it turns out he is terrified by bugs. The bickering continues and provides some much needed humor before the rest of the volume settles in with a much more serious story line.

It turns out that not every dragon guardian was raised with as much privelege and love as Gija, and as the Yona and her band go to find the Blue Dragon, they find a mysterious village with masked tribes people, and the Blue Dragon has been treated as a pariah, not celebrated due to his unique powers like Gija. The feeling in the village is unsettling, and provides Yona a real challenge to work through as she attempts to discover the identity of the Blue Dragon. One of the reasons why I like this series so much is that while Yona is obviously blessed by being a princes and having some fabled mystical guardians, she isn’t going to stop trying to improve herself. She still spends hours practicing her archery alone because she wants to be able to help the people who are fighting for her. Getting through to the Blue Dragon is a product of her insight into human nature and her genuine interest in other people as opposed to relying on her title or position in the world.

Kusanagi’s art continues to be clear and easy to read, and she’s great at conveying different moods and emotions like Gija’s over exaggerated reactions to the horrors of nature, Yona’s determination, and the unsettling masks of the Blue Dragon’s tribe.

Umineko: When They Cry, Vol. 15

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Story by Ryukishi07; Art by Hinase Momoyama. Released in Japan in two separate volumes as “Umineko no Naku Koro ni: Dawn of the Golden Witch” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine GFantasy. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Stephen Paul.

Warning: this reviews mentions the biggest spoiler in Umineko, which I have been dancing around until now. I won’t mention it in this first paragraph, but it’s hard not to review this final omnibus of the arc and discuss it, as it ends up being a major part of the climax. Before we get to that, though: I’ve talked before about how Ryukishi07 loves a good old fashioned shonen battle at heart, and a great deal of this book is just that. Various characters try to attack Beatrice and get blown away by various other characters, as you realize how ridiculously huge the cast has become by now. Erika finally loses, and judging by the “roll call” at the end of the book, seemingly abandoned to a watery grave by Bernkastel. And Ryukishi still can’t resist connecting Umineko and Higurashi, even though Featherine and Hanyuu are as alike as two very unalike things.

(I am very irritated with that front cover image, by the way. I know it’s not Yen’s fault, and that the Japanese licensor chose which cover to use and which to hide. But it makes me sad that the best cover in the series is relegated to the color page inside.)

For those trying to figure out what’s going on in Umineko, the manga has been a bit more obvious in its hints than the visual novel, even back in earlier arcs. For this particular arc, we’ve spent a long time debating why it is that Shannon, Kanon, and Beatrice need magic in order to have their love fulfilled, and this volume explicitly says it’s because they are not a whole person. Meanwhile, as predicted in the last volume, Battler is trapped in a logic error of his own making, trapped inside the guest room till he can figure out how to get out without disturbing the chain lock, duct tape seals, or anything else. The answer ends up being that Kanon, being dead (Shannon won the big duel), can now come free Battler and take his place. And then “erase himself” by magic. There’s only one way for this all to work, and that’s by realizing that we’re talking about IDENTITIES when we discuss people on the island, not BODIES. Shannon and Kanon cannot both love without magic help as they’re the same person. And both are also a third person – Beatrice.

This works a lot better than you’d imagine if you think about what is “real” in the books and what takes place in an imaginary fantasy world. We’ve gone on and on about “magic” being a conceit, and that’s in full force here. It’s also what allows Fledgling Beato to take up the place of her old self and become the “real”, haughty Beatrice – though that mask slips much of the time, and there’s still some creepy incestual vibes between her and Battler that is the big downside of this arc and I kind of hate. In any case, we may have figured out the gimmick behind one of the biggest mysteries of Umineko, but we’re still completely in the dark as to the motive? What led to this? Was it Battler’s sin (remember that)? Was it because everyone needed a lot of money right now? What drove Beatrice, whoever she may identify as, to the events of 1986?

We will hopefully find out soon (though Yen hasn’t scheduled it yet) with the 7th arc of Umineko: Requiem of the Golden Witch. I’m sure it will be happy and filled with good times – after all, Bernkastel will be in charge of this arc. What could possibly go wrong?

Kuma Miko: Girl Meets Bear, Vol. 1

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By all rights, Kuma Miko: Girl Meets Bear should be interesting: it takes place in a rural village where talking bears and humans have peacefully coexisted for centuries. The story focuses on Machi, a priestess-in-training who’s learning the ropes from Natsu, her ursine mentor. Though Machi is determined to serve the village in her capacity as miko, she’s also determined to attend high school in a nearby city — something none of her predecessors have done.

While the set-up is ripe with potential, the execution is oddly flat. Part of the problem is that the leads feel more like ideas than characters. Machi, in particular, is a collection of quirks in search of a personality. In an effort to endear her to the reader, author Masume Yoshimoto makes her naive, ditsy, shy, and spazzy — a veritable catalog of manic pixie dream girl traits — but never reveals why she behaves so irrationally. Natsu is a little more fleshed out: he has wisdom to impart, and frets about Machi’s welfare. Worrying about another person, however, isn’t the same thing as having a personality, and here, too, Yoshimoto falls short. Natsu’s concern doesn’t suggest any deeper knowledge of Machi’s past or her reasons for wanting to leave the village; any reasonable person would worry about someone who seems as impetuous and dim-witted as Machi.

The only character with any presence is Yoshio, Machi’s pervy 25-year-old cousin. In one memorable scene, Yoshio gets so carried away describing the village’s history that he forgets his audience, accidentally regaling third graders with salacious details of a human-bear union. This scene might be funny, but the author wants to have it both ways, aiming for a mixture of titillation and tee-hees that’s just plain uncomfortable; I’m with the little girl who declares, “Sexual harassment!” before covering her ears.

If any of the other five stories had left as vivid an impression as “Village Legends,” I might cautiously recommend Kuma Miko to fans of off-beat slice-of-life comedies, but the rest of volume one was vanilla in comparison. Competent but undistinguished artwork and sluggish pacing pushed the title further into the “No” column for me; if I’m going to read about talking bears, dammit, I’d like to see a little more imagination on display.

KUMA MIKO, VOL. 1: GIRL MEETS BEAR • BY MASUME YOSHIMOTO • ONE PEACE BOOKS • NO RATING (SOME SUGGESTIVE MATERIAL; THIS TITLE IS BETTER SUITED FOR READERS 13+)

Death March to the Parallel World Rhapsody, Vol. 1

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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.

For all that we talk about the cliche of the “transported to another world” genre (‘isekai’ in Japan), we haven’t actually seen too many pure examples of the genre itself in the light novels we’ve had translated. There have been slight variations – DanMachi essentially works on the same principles, only Bell is not from another world. SAO and Log Horizon have people trapped in literal game worlds. We’ve seen deconstructions, like Re: Zero and Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash. And next month we’ll see an outright parody with KonoSuba. Even this series I’m reviewing today, which comes closest to the original form, has a variation in that the hero is a late-20s salaryman in his old teenage body, and thus his thoughts are more of an adult’s. And honestly, there’s a reason we haven’t seen too many of the ‘standard’ types of isekai novels: they’re standard male wish-fulfillment.

Our hero is Satou, a game designer who falls asleep after a rough coding session and wakes up in a desert-like area where he’s about to be killed by lizard people. He thinks he’s dreaming and imagining he’s in a game, mostly as he can see his stats on a screen in front of him. So he tries the stupidly overpowered move that he and his boss were discussing earlier, which causes a giant meteor shower to take out the enemy. And then a bigger one to take out a dragon god. Doing this levels Satou up to absolutely ridiculous levels, and since he also has a Bag of Infinite Holding and a giant pile of money… even most self-insert fanfics don’t go this far. He goes to the nearest city, which is battling wyverns and demons and such, and slowly learns about the world he’s now in. Very, very slowly.

The difficulty with these male power fantasy books is that the hero is meant to be one that the reader can just swap out and substitute with themselves, and as a result can’t have too many signifying traits that might differ from said reader. This means that the novel’s big weakness is Satou, who is a giant yawning void where a protagonist should be. Since he’s got a teenage body but his mind is that of his old 29-year-old game developer self, he’s rather calm and stoic about things like love. And since he WAS a game designer, he can handle most of the cliches that come his way to try to kill him, especially as he’s got his God Stats, his Unlimited Items, and his Unlimited Money. Stoic emotionless heroes can work in the right context – Overlord and The Irregular at Magic High School have similar types. But there needs to be something behind them, something other than “well, here’s a monster, splat, OK, next?”. Also, he needs to stop telling everyone he’s not a lolicon every other line, or folks are going to get suspicious.

As for the rest of the book, well, it was all right. I never thought I’d say this about any work ever, but: this book is crying out for a tsundere to get angry with the hero. The female knight Satou saves falls for him immediately, and the three slaves he takes on (Satou is against slavery, but circumstances are such that he can’t do much about it) are all fairly meek and willing to do anything he says. If there is one bright light in this book, it is the stat updates that accompany Satou whenever he does anything, which range from the practical to the hilarious, and are easily the best part of the book. If you want to see what a garden variety isekai work is, you may want to give Death March a try. Everyone else is better off sticking with the subversions, deconstructions and parodies, though.

The GGK Project, Part 1: The Fionavar Tapestry

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For over a decade, I would’ve named Guy Gavriel Kay as my favorite author. And yet, I have never reviewed any of his books here. Having failed to love The Last Light of the Sun when I read it back in 2004, I think my enthusiasm for him just waned, and though I bought his subsequent novels, I hadn’t felt particularly compelled to read them. Now, though, I am determined to tackle GGK’s full bibliography, from old favorites that I’ve reread before (like my most-beloved The Lions of Al-Rassan) to one that I somehow only read the once when it came out twenty-plus years ago (A Song for Arbonne) to the newer books I haven’t yet read. But I will start, as is customary, with the very beginning.

When Jordan moved in across the street from me in the late ’80s, she really did influence my life in some significant ways, not the least of which was introducing me to “GGK” through his first series, The Fionavar Tapestry. My love was deep and abiding and, because of that, I definitely had some trepidation about revisiting the trilogy. My genre preferences have evolved over the years, for one thing, and I no longer read as much fantasy as I used to. More, though, I remember this as the first series to make me cry my eyes out. Would it still have the same effect on me after all this time? As it happens, I shouldn’t have worried, because now I apparently get verklempt at the drop of a hat.

Spoilers ahead.

summertreeThe Summer Tree
We begin with a conference at the University of Toronto where a group of five students is invited to meet afterwards with one of the lecturers. To their surprise, he reveals himself to be a mage named Loren Silvercloak from a world called Fionavar, sent to bring guests from our world to a festival for the High King of Brennin. What he doesn’t reveal, while feeling guilty for the deception, is the fact that Brennin is in turmoil (a punishing and unnatural drought, an ailing and elderly king, the return of some nasty creatures, an evil god imprisoned under a mountain…) and that he feels they are needed there somehow.

The five quickly decide to take Loren up on his offer and the story’s scope widens considerably once they arrive in Fionavar. In addition to meeting one of my favorite fictional characters ever, seemingly frivolous Prince Diarmuid (more on him later), the Canadians are swiftly swept up in events, changed by their experiences as they discover individual destinies even Loren had no inkling of.

Perceptive Kimberly Ford, for example, becomes the new Seer of Brennin, inheriting the knowledge of her predecessor and destined to be the one to call “The Warrior.” Witty Kevin Laine is accepted as part of Diarmuid’s band of men, though there is more to come for him down the road. Paul Schafer is grappling with tremendous guilt after surviving a car accident that killed the woman he loved, yet an experience in Fionavar allows him to finally see that it wasn’t his fault. Emotionally guarded Dave Martyniuk finds a place he belongs among the Dalrei, the nomadic hunters of the plains, and begins to open up to friendship. And Jennifer Lowell, proud and reserved, yet not unkind, is captured by the evil god (Rakoth Maugrim) and mentally and physically violated before Kimberly is able to rescue her.

I admit Jennifer’s fate does trouble me a little. Of the five, she probably receives the least attention in this first installment before undergoing a terrible ordeal at the end. Rakoth has already issued a dramatic proclamation of his freedom and war is at hand by the time her friends learn of her fate, so it’s not as though her rape is solely responsible for spurring them into action, but they are extra motivated because of it. I do still think, though, that this plotline is ultimately about Jennifer and the choices she will make going forward.

Lastly, I’ll note that Guy Gavriel Kay’s writing style might not be for everyone. Occasionally it can be portentous, namedropping legendary figures, and maybe a little too poetic at times, but overall I still love the wistful, languid, and bittersweet feeling of his prose. There’s so much emphasis on what events mean to the characters that I got sniffly over and over again. (I found Dave’s arc especially moving.) At this rate, I will be a puddle by the third book!

wandering_fireThe Wandering Fire
Although there are many important things that happen in The Wandering Fire, I think what I like best is the continuing character development for the five Canadians. This time, it’s Kim whom we don’t see very much of, and that’s honestly fine by me, since she had so much of the focus the first time around. We spend a lot of time with Paul, whose survival of the summer tree has given him the ability to compel the lesser gods of Fionavar, and with Dave and Jennifer, too. (And I am indeed happy to report that she ends the volume much stronger for having endured all that she has been through.) But shining above all of them is Kevin.

After Kim brought them home at the end of The Summer Tree and everyone saw what had been done to Jennifer, Kevin declared, “To this I will make reply, although he be a god and it mean my death.” When they returned to Fionavar, however, and he saw how effective Dave was in battle, how everyone else had something to contribute, he felt terribly useless and bitterly derided himself for his proclamation. And then he accompanies a group on a journey to the territory of Dana, the goddess, to try to discover how Rakoth Maugrim has caused the unnatural winter that plagues Fionavar. There, he awakens to his fate as Liadon, lover and sacrifice to the goddess. It is fitting that when Paul went willingly to the tree, he needed to properly grieve the loss of the woman he had loved, and thus brought rain, and now bright and warm Kevin is the one responsible for bringing spring. It’s not his death that makes me sniffle, but the fact that he found the thing he was meant to do, and struck an enormous blow against the dark in the process. He was very far from useless.

So, too, do I love the reactions of the others to what has happened to Kevin, especially Dave, who mourns Kevin, with whom he never got along in school, to a degree that surprises him. I like to think his grief was colored with regret for so much time wasted when they could’ve been friends. My one complaint, though, is that we never see inside Diarmuid’s head. He liked Kevin, and we can tell he is upset, but we are not privy to his thoughts, nor indeed to the love he evidently discovered he feels toward Sharra, to whom he proposes. Every time Diarmuid does something brilliant and brave, which is often, my heart swells a bit with love of him, but he still remains somewhat of an enigma. The same is true for his brother Aileron, actually. For the most part, we follow the points of view of outsiders.

There’s more sorrow yet to come in the final volume, and I must ready myself to face it.

darkest_roadThe Darkest Road
In this concluding volume of the trilogy, the armies of the Light and the Dark have their final confrontation. Our heroes taste defeat, bittersweet victory, loss, glory, and pain. I am pretty sure this was the first book to ever make me cry my eyes out over a beloved character’s death, and it did so again this time. Hiding his serious hatred of the Dark under a flippant facade, Diarmuid is the first of two characters to willingly sustain a killing blow in order to deliver one. The way Kay describes this scene playing out is so cinematic, I’m left desperately hoping this’ll be the next fantasy epic to be adapted for television.

Contrasting Diarmuid’s end, where he passes surrounded by loved ones and is given a proper farewell (another vivid image is Aileron, devasted by grief, cradling his brother’s body to his chest as he carries him from the field of battle), poor Darien dies alone and uncomforted in Maugrim’s crumbling fortress, never knowing whether anyone will know what he achieved. Thankfully, they do know and the bravery of his deeds and the choice he made is celebrated in song.

Revisiting this series as an older, more attentive, reader has been an interesting experience. Only at the very, very last do we get a glimpse inside Diarmuid’s head. I doubt younger me even noticed that. Nor, I think, did I notice that alongside the three central Arthurian figures reliving their fate, another takes the part of the Lady of Shalott. Lastly, and most significantly, I have a greater appreciation for the statement Kay is making about free will. Obviously, the roles some characters play are tied to destiny, but the importance of Darien’s freedom to choose between the Light and the Dark is repeatedly emphasized, Paul chose to take the king’s place on the summer tree, Jennifer chose to have Darien and refuses to attempt to influence his decision, Diarmuid chooses to take on an impossible foe, Kim chooses not to conscript an ancient power that would surely have been an advantage, and more. I hope that I will find more to love about Kay’s other works—maybe I’ll even like The Last Light of the Sun more next time!

Stay tuned.

Fruits Basket Collector’s Edition, Vol. 9

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By Natsuki Takaya. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialized in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Sheldon Drzka.

This review contains spoilers that everyone knows. If you don’t know them, you can stop reading here.

At the time that Fruits Basket was first coming out, both in Japan and North America, it had a sizeable BL fandom. In fact, one might very well argue the BL fandom was far larger than the het fandom for this particular title. Not really a surprise – the series is filled with pretty boys, and some of them even play up to this stereotype (Shigure, Ayame, I’m looking at you). And BL fandom at the time (and to a certain extent today, though maybe not as much?) tended to demonize and bash any female character that got in the way of their pairings (not Tohru so much, but Rin got hit REALLY hard with this) as well as praise the “bad boy”. Which of course in Fruits Basket was Akito. Akito was a hot guy, so could be forgiven a little abuse here and there, right?

So with the revelation that Akito was actually a girl, raised as a boy (her gender is a secret to most of the cast as well as the reader), the fandom sort of exploded into bits. Half of it reacted much like Tohru did in this book, dropping to her knees and breaking down until Hanajima comes to her rescue (one of my favorite scenes in the entire manga, particularly Hana providing her own fanfare). The other half reacted with rage that Takaya-san would do this to their beloved Akito, who… was no longer as beloved as a girl. In fact, the fandom started to turn on her a bit. Reading it now almost ten years later, I am similarly torn, though admittedly not for the BL. Akito is clearly also part of this giant family of abuse, and we see a lot more of her mother Ren here – indeed, Ren kickstarts the plot that occupies much of the latter half of the book. On the other hand, Akito is still a spoiled, entitled brat, and lashes out in panic whenever anyone shows the slightest sign they’re going to leave her. It’s hard to read, but worth it.

Then there’s Rin and Haru, who’s plots get mostly resolved here. Rin suffers somewhat from being a dark mirror to Tohru, and so her quest to break the curse was always doomed to end in failure. Also, don’t trust the obviously untrustworthy woman, Rin. But Akito’s reaction to finding her opening “the forbidden box”, and her subsequent punishment, is nightmarish – you sense that if Kureno hadn’t found her, she would literally have died there. (Kureno has to talk a terrified maid into helping him, and judging by the head maid’s disparaging words after the fact, I suspect that said maid may have gotten fired after all.) Speaking of dark mirrors, the light side is Haru, who realizes he wanted to possess Rin more than he wanted to protect her. The dark side is Shigure, who wants Akito all for himself and is happy to shatter her preconceptions to do so – in fact, he has to do so due to the nature of the curse.

I admit these two volumes, as well as the first half of the next edition, are where I realized Shigure would always be my favorite. His possessive monologue about wanting to “crush Akito to a pulp”, as well as his dull-eyed stare as he thinks it, is some of Takaya’s finest work in he entire manga. And as if that wasn’t horrifying enough, his conversation with Rin right at the end implies he may have known about her fate and done nothing about it. Shigure can be both fascinating and completely awful, and I could analyze him all day. But I will instead say that this volume of Fruits Basket and the one after are, in my mind, the high points of the entire series. Even if they did crack the internet in half at the time.

Kagerou Daze VI: Over the Dimension

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By Jin (Shinzen no Teki-P) and Sidu. Released in Japan by Enterbrain. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Kevin Gifford.

For all that I’ve joked about the Kagerou Daze light novels being short – and they really are, they’re easily the shortest books that Yen is putting out right now – that’s not a complaint about their quality, which has steadily improved with each volume. Kagerou Daze does not really give the reader a lot of information directly, so one can get very easily confused reading the first three books. As we move on, though, and discover backstories and connections between characters, everything starts to come together as we realize that there is an overarching plot here, we have a main villain, and we almost know what the villain is doing, though not why. It can also help flesh out previous books, and no volume does that more than this new one, which is a mirror to the second book, A Headphone Actor.

In that book we had the POV of Takane, the eternally angry high school girl who likes her tall, airheaded classmate Haruka but can’t do anything but take shots at him, because hiding embarrassment, etc. A tsundere with very little dere. This new book gives us Haruka’s perspective of the same events, and we can see that he does actually sort of like Takane, but unfortunately due to her actions he doesn’t think that she likes him much at all. If you’re going to haev a stereotypical angry anime girl, it’s always nice to show off how it can work against them in the long run. As for Haruka himself, he’s a bit shy, straightforward, nice… and dying, something that he’s known about for some time but hasn’t really told anyone about. The knowledge that he’ll be dead in a year informs many of his actions, especially as he begins to open up to both Takane and his new friends Ayano and Shintaro.

Shintaro is a bit of a revelation here, as from Takane’s perspective in Volume 2, he was quite different back in school from the emotional hot mess we know and love. Here we see Shintaro slowly open to to Haruka’s aggressive overtures of friendship, and we can see that the emotional turmoil is not all that far from the surface. There’s lots of bits in this book that work because we know the cast and their pasts from previous books – when Ayano walks in on Haruka and begins to act in a completely non-characteristic way, it’s easy to see that it’s really Kano. We also see the start of Momo’s idol career, and the fact that literally everyone but Shintaro can see how gaga Ayano is over him. Of course, Ayano is dead in the future, which also makes this a bit tragic as well.

In fact, the book ends darkly, as not only do we see Haruka and Takane getting turned into Konoha and Ene from his perspective, but we also see that Konoha seems to be somewhat possessed by evil, and also that Shintaro is possibly dead as well. Given that we’ve seen time loops in this series before, I highly doubt this is meant to be permanent, but our heroes still have a long way to go to fix things. Definitely worth a read, even if you’re not a fan of the songs.