Reviews

By Yomi Hirasaka and Itachi. Released in Japan as “Boku wa Tomodachi ga Sukunai” by Media Factory, serialization ongoing in the magazine Comic Alive. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Ryan Peterson. Adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt McFarlane.

(Note: please do not post light novel spoilers in the comments.)

Most harem manga these days have to walk a very thin tightrope, especially in a modern, internet-forum friendly world. readers want the hero to end up with the girl they like best, and every time that things return to the status quo they are upset. Writers and editors want this to be successful for as long as possible, which means stringing things out and returning to status quo without making it look too obvious. With Haganai, the Neighbors Club has been the way to do this, as each of the cast is so socially inept that even basic interaction is a challenge, much less having a significant other. Or at least, that’s what Kodaka tells himself. In fact, Kodaka is very good at lying to himself and others, and the astute reader of Haganai has, through several books now, been feeling more and more like Rika, watching this play out and getting increasingly angry. This is the volume where that rage finally explodes.

This kicks off with a seeming resolution of the perpetual love triangle between Kodaka and the two female leads. Yes, there are more than two love interests, but at heart it’s always been about Yozora vs. Sena. More on Yozora later, but I felt that Sena’s confession was first rate. Yes, it started out as her seemingly talking to herself while gaming, as if practicing for later, but once she realizes what actually happened, she doesn’t back off. This makes a start contrast to Kodaka, who literally runs away as fast as possible and hides from the rest of the club for days. His desire for stasis has never been more contemptible than it is here, particularly given that he spends said days with the Student Council, the Neighbors’ Club’s mortal enemies. To his surprise, they don’t view him as a thug and a bad person, and we see just how much of Kodaka’s self-worth problems are his own doing.

Then comes the scene with Rika. (Yes, there’s a nice scene with Yukimura as well, but while it’s heartwarming, it’s all setup for that one gag. You know the one I mean.) Rika already confronted Kodaka last time about his perpetual “Huh? What was that?” response, and was seen to be barely holding it together. Now she explodes, and it’s glorious. Kudos to Itachi, by the way: the art in Haganai has frequently taken on a sketchy, exaggerated look at times, particularly when it’s funny, and it doubles down on that here, with some amazing faces that would not look out of place in a horror title. Rika beats the shit out of Kodaka (scientifically, of course) as she rants about what she learned from Sena. She’s absolutely right, of course. Of all the girls in the series, Sena has gotten twice the romantic subtext as anyone else. And he’s running away from this because he can’t face up to her actually liking him as more than a friend.

Haganai is caught up with Japan, so it will be many months before we see the next volume. But now that Rika and Kodaka have admitted hey are indeed friends, can he man up and listen to Sena? More importantly, what about Yozora, who seemingly heard this entire exchange, and whose devastated sobbing face ends this arc? The artist notes that the manga may be a bit different from the light novels, though it’s unclear if that means additions or actual changes. In any case, for those who were waiting for the payoff in Haganai, here’s where it starts.

By Reki Kawahara and Shimeji. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by ZephyrRz.

It is rather startling how little time the main events of The Isolator are taking place over. The eyes descended to Earth three months ago, despite the presence of what seems to be a long-standing secret organization dedicated to harnessing their power. It’s only been a day or two since the events of Book 2, as well, and this book also only takes a couple of days. And at the end, they’re discussing invading the enemy’s stronghold. I’m not sure how long Kawahara intends for this series to go, but I don’t think it’s meant to be that long. Though, given there’s an anime coming out this Winter, that may change if it gets popular enough. In any event, a new volume of The Isolator, and hey, a new cover girl.

Yes, after getting the first two covers to herself, Yumiko is forced to give way to Suu, who really should be invisible on the cover, but a) that would give the game away, and b) that would mean there is no cute girl on the cover. Yes, Suu us a teammate of the group who can turn herself invisible (with the exception of her pupils), and as with all the other characters, it stems from past personal trauma. I was wary of getting too attached to her – literally everything she did from the moment she showed up to her final sacrifice screamed “I am going to die so that the main guy can learn a valuable lesson”. Fortunately, she doesn’t quite die (though if Book 4 takes place right after 3, she may not appear much), but the lesson is still learned.

Minoru and Yumiko continue to be the stars of this book, thoguh Suu obviously steals Yumiko’s spotlight a bit, something she is keenly aware of – her discussion with Minoru about her jealousy is possibly the best hart-to-heart they’ve had so far. And Minoru continues to find new ways to use his talent, turning the ability to isolate yourself in an impenetrable sphere into an actual dangerous weapon. Which is good, because the new villain of the book we meet, Trancer, manages to get away along with his boss, who is more of an arc villain. (You can tell that we’re not done with Trancer as we still haven’t heard his tragic backstory beyond that apparently he has his childhood friend frozen in ice somewhere.)

The Isolator continues to have the same strengths and weaknesses the previous two books had. The strength is the action scenes which are really first rate – it’s a short novel, but the pacing is perfect, and there’s lots of cool superhero moves on display. The weakness continues to be that, despite best efforts to try to inject levity into the series at odd points, this is still the most straightfaced and serious of Kawahara’s books, and given the incipient tragedy at the back of everyone’s lives, it can get a bit depressing if the reader isn’t prepared for it.

I’m not sure where the series goes from here – the next volume isn’t scheduled in Japan yet, so it will likely be at least a year till we see it – but I’m still on board. I just wish we could add a goofy ditz or a perverted best friend or something to take the edge off.

By Various Artists, based on the manga created by Hitoshi Iwaaki. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Kumar Sivasubramanian

I have fond memories of Parasyte, despite never having actually read it. It was one of the first four titles that Tokyopop put out when it began, along with Sailor Moon, Magic Knight Rayearth, and the long forgotten Ice Blade. Unlike Ice Blade, Tokyopop actually finished the series, but it was always a sort of cult hit over here, known mainly for its odd sense of humor and its startling decapitations. I was pleased when Kodansha decided to release the updated Japanese version in 8 volumes, and that sold considerably better than the first time around, as the market was much better prepared for it. And now we have this anthology, which on the face of it is even more bizarre: taking a horror series that runs in a seinen magazine and giving it to various Japanese shoujo creators, to see what they make of it.

Of course, anyone who knows Japanese shoujo knows that they are very familiar with the horror genre. Indeed, some of the artists in this anthology are best known over here for their shoujo gore, such as Kaori Yuki, whose tale of a twisted love triangle and a spoiled princess would not feel out of place in her other works. Parasyte filled a number of niches, and this anthology does a very good job of showing off why people liked it. There’s actually very little pure horror, as for the most part the artists try to do their own thing. As you’d expect given the genre, there are quite a few high school romances in here, some tragic, some heartwarming, and some with a twist that is both predictable yet also startling – Parasyte’s stock in trade. Miki Rinno’s story of a genki girl whose mind has broken a bit by the slaughter of her family as well as a parasyte inside her is particularly good.

That said, I think it may be the humor that draws in readers, and there’s a lot of that. From a fujoshi who uses her Parasyte to pair up hot guys (by Ema Toyama, the author of Missions of Love), to Parasyte cooking shows and otome games, there’s a lot of simply having fun with the premise. And for those who wonder if it’s all original characters, fear not: Shinichi and Migi are sprinkled throughout the book. Indeed, the story by Mikimaki of Migi shifting himself into various shoujo girls may be the funniest in the book. And sometimes I laughed even when I may not have been supposed to – Asia Watanabe’s somewhat disturbing take of a young girl in the thralls of puberty and her teacher, a priest (both of whom harbor parasytes) features a dizzy blonde girl named Luna, and it’s impossible not to see her as Luna Lovegood from the Harry Potter books.

So if you loved Parasyte, you’ll get a kick out of this book. But even if, like me, you never actually read the original, you may still find something here. The art is striking throughout, and there’s a lot of really good stories – I hadn’t even talked about the story by Kashio about a telepath who runs into a transfer student with a parasyte, which is tense and thrilling. I’d love to see more of these Anthologies from Western publishers.

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

While Log Horizon is well known for its large cast, and has featured chunks showing us the viewpoint of other characters, there’s no doubt about the fact that Shiroe is the star of the series. He’s the planner, the blackmailer, the one who achieves things for the best. And yes, he also dithers and frets, mostly due to his non-outgoing nature. Still, we’ve become fairly comfortable that a new volume will have us getting inside his head again. But this volume shakes things up a bit, as Shiroe (along with Naotsugu, I assume) is away for the entire volume, off on a secret mission. And with Krusty and his group also away on a mission, Akihibara is, with the exception of the harem leader Soujiro, almost entirely female this time around. And that’s definitely a good thing.

The lost child in the title is Akatsuki, who gets the bulk of the narrative this volume. She’s still reeling from the revelations from the last volume, and the absence of Shiroe is not helping matters. Akatsuki is naturally shy and introverted, and even though gaming is, as she’s said, a way to be something that isn’t yourself, now that they’re actually IN the game, it’s still hard for her to interact with others. And that’s actually affecting her growth as an adventurer as well – she’s never done raids, and so hasn’t gotten any of the elite weapons and other loot that drop only during those group activities. She knows this, but can’t move past that wall she’s achieved, and it’s coming out as a giant pile of self-hatred. Fortunately, Shiroe has asked her to watch over Reynesia, as have several other guilds, which leads her to be forced to interact with others. Less fortunately, a murderer has come along to force her to change or die.

Of course, Log Horizon doesn’t have permanent death, but they do lose memories. And death also hurts. And, well, the idea of an unstoppable killer walking around at night is just scary. The climax is the best part of this book, as we get to see a lot of the characters we’ve come to know over the last few books (as well as some new ones, like Rieze, one of the subcommanders of Krusty’s group showing off their strengths and also showing off the character development for Akatsuki: you need to be able to ask for help, and you need to be able to accept that help from others. Akatsuki learns that, and is rewarded by being the one who gets to deliver the final blow (as well as a really cool new sword, which is nice as well.) Meanwhile, Reynesia is busy learning the opposite message: sometimes you can’t push things off onto others, but you have to take responsibility yourself. She’s maturing into an excellent leader.

Those who watch the anime of this series may be a little startled. Not only is it only the Akatsuki plot, with Shiroe absent, but the anime added a lot of comedy and a lot of extra scenes (the book ends very abruptly with the end of the murderer – the anime expands on the mentioned pajama party afterwards). But that’s the benefit of different mediums. Those who enjoy Log Horizon’s action and drama but feel that sometimes it’s a bit TOO light-hearted can revel in the angst-ridden monologues many of the characters have here, most of which didn’t make it to the screen. I think next time we’ll find out what’s up with Shiroe and have a book from his perspective, minus the Akihibara crew. But for now let’s rejoice with Akatsuki.

By Kenya Suzuki. Released in Japan as “Oshiete! Gyaruko-chan” by Media Factory, serialization ongoing in the online site Comic Walker. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Jennifer McKeon. Adapted by Lianne Sentar.

As I’ve occasionally mentioned before, I am the opposite of most fans. Most fans, from what I gather, watch only anime, and seem rather surprised to find that a manga or light novel exist, and uninterested if they do find out. Whereas I read manga or light novels, and for the most part don’t really watch much anime at all anymore. On the bright side, this can lead to surprises. For example, this series, which I knew nothing about. At first the description made it sound fairly slice-of-lifey. However, as those who’d seen the anime know all too well, it has a lot of sex talk sprinkled throughout. This was what I discovered when I first started to read it, and my general thought was “oh dear, time to plow through this.” Luckily, as the volume went on, despite the sex talk Galko-chan proved to be more what I originally thought it would be.

The premise is light as air, as are the characters, who all have nicknames related to their specific stereotype (a flashback chapter shows it’s actually deliberate, which is amusing). Galko-chan is the titular character, a Gal in the Super Gals! vein, who is also possessed of very large breasts, which is actually one of the driving plot points as there are many discussions of said breasts. Galko-chan is not quite a 4-koma series, but it’s very much in the vein of such comedies, with little character introductions every single page offering little facts about each character. (Haruchi-chan’s manga has this as well). And because her best friends as Otako, a bookish girl who knows a lot about sex from reading about it and uses that to jump-start conversations, and Ojou, a young rich well-bred girl who’s described as an airhead but who I think is simply sheltered and goes along with any topic no matter what it is, sex comes up a lot.

Each page heading has a specific question that one would ask of high school teens, ranging from “Do friendly sisters borrow each other’s clothes a lot?” to “Is it true that intense exercise can break a girl’s hymen?”. Honestly, they’re more the latter than the former – be prepared for a lot of discussion of breasts, pubic hair, periods, labial size, etc. While this has the potential to be awful, it’s generally not, mostly as all three girls are, despite the saucy talk, really quite innocent – this isn’t even on the level of High School Girls. When not discussing sex, they do normal 4-koma things like go shopping, go to the pool, and worry about school, with the help of their other classmates, who get less attention but still have names that define their stereotype. They’re just… nice kids. Who talk about women’s bodies all the time.

I suspect those who dislike slice-of-life, ecchi stories, and 4-koma style humor already avoided this, but just in case, let me warm you it is all those things. (There isn’t much boke and tsukkomi style humor, though, which is a pleasant change.) It’s also in full color, and the colors are nicely chosen and artistically striking, and the faces are mostly also very good, though Ojou needs to stop having her default expression 90% of the time. This was a cute read, not as ecchi as you’d think t would be, and should please fans of the anime. Which I still have not seen.

By Yoshiki Tanaka. Released in Japan as “Ginga Eiyū Densetsu” by Tokuma Shoten. Released in North America by Haikasoru. Translated by Daniel Huddleston.

When we last checked in with this epic space opera, I was saying that this book would show us which direction the series was going to go, and I’m not sure that ended up being the case. Don’t get me wrong, this is an excellent book, with great battles and character examination, but at the end of 300-odd pages I am left with the feeling that not much has changed since we started. Except there are a lot more soldiers dead. Because above all else, Legend of the Galactic Heroes wants to tell us about the folly of war, specifically war for the sake of war. And it does this quite well, whether it be via Yang Wen-li having a long inner monologue about what history has taught us about the military or an evacuation order leading to the deaths of hundreds as panicking soldiers kill other panicking soldiers in their efforts to flee a doomed Death Star.

Of course, it’s not called a Death Star in the book, but a giant circular battle station that functions as a planetoid for its inhabitants is going to make one think of Star Wars, especially as Japan released this volume in 1984, when that sort of thing was at its height. The plot that kicks off this volume is an ambitious technical general coming up with the idea of building a 2nd Death Star, warping it into position, and then fighting it out with Iserlohn, the old one currently occupied by Yang and his Republic forces. It’s an all-or-nothing plan, and normally Siegfried would be around to try to talk Reinhard into being more sensible. But Siegfried is dead, and while Reinhard is trying to do his best to imagine what the young man would recommend to him (we see this later when he spares the life of another young general), he’s still not very good at it, and spends most of the book unemotionally doing his job and closing himself off from most human contact.

Reinhard and Yang are usually compared and contrasted, and Yang also spends a good deal of this book cut off from his allies. Not by his own design, though, as the Republic have called him in for “a court of inquiry”, which is different from a court martial in that they don’t have to tell anyone or have any actual charges. In point of fact, they imprison Yang for weeks because they just don’t like him, and it drives everyone to distraction – especially the people back on Iserlohn, who are now forced to fight for over a month against the enemy without their tactical genius. The book does especially well in paralleling the Empire and Republic, Reinhard and Yang this time around. They both have corrupt glory hounds, they both assume that people who hold respect and are held in high regard will want absolute power (after all, it’s what they would do). And they both have beautiful young secretaries who have designs on them, though Yang is a little ahead here – he and Frederica are more like awkward teenagers, whereas Hildegarde is having difficulty getting Reinhard to even admit emotion exists after Siegfried’s death.

This was great fun to read, but again, after the whole book we’re mostly in the same place we were. We do learn a lot more about Phezzan, though, which has designs in trying to eliminate one side and prop the other up – as puppets for their economic tyranny. Oh yes, and there’s still the Church. I suspect the next book will have a lot more politics to it. And we get a next book, as Haikasoru have picked up the next three in the series. Great news.

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.

I’ve discussed before how much Fruits Basket deals with abuse, and it also deals just as much with family. And while the two obviously intersect, especially in this volume, they aren’t always meant to coincide. Not everyone is the same, and no one can go through quite the same situation as someone else. This has shown up most obviously in Yuki and Kyo each being deeply envious of what the other has. In this volume we see Momiji, whose sister has been spying on him and seems to have a sense that they’re related even if she doesn’t know it for sure, choosing to remain apart from her to save his family, even though it hurts him. We also see Yuki, who has mostly repaired his relationship with Ayame (who gets the best entrance in the book here) dealing with the repressive control of his mother, and fighting back against it quite a bit. Yuki is finally growing up.

And then there’s Rin, who’s life is so tragic she doesn’t even manage to get a front cover on the omnibus she most features in. Furuba does a good job, as I said, of showing how abuse affects everyone differently, and I won’t say Rin’s is worse than the others, but it’s certainly more explicit than the others, as we see her family, which had been putting on the facade of happy cheer, break apart with just one innocent question from her. If nothing else, it shows how fragile that facade was – even if she hadn’t asked, I doubt it would have lasted much longer. Rin’s flashback is heartbreaking, as she doesn’t even begin to understand where everything went wrong, and assumes it’s her fault – something her parents and Akito are happy to tell her is the case. Luckily, she has Haru, but she’s not in a headspace right now where she can accept her need for Haru, and so drives him away as well. Basically, Rin is fascinating and makes you want to hug her, except she’d run away.

Rin’s interaction with Tohru is also interesting. Like Hiro, she’s reluctant to accept Tohru as this sort of magical healing waif, which the start of the series may have led you to believe she was. Tohru has issues, though, and it’s in dealing with Rin, who’s actively asking her why, specifically, she wants to remove the curse, that Tohru begins to crack a bit. Rin so far is the only one who’s noticed Tohru is “quietly falling apart”, and the minimalistic look at Tohru’s flashbacks suggest it’s due to her mother and her burgeoning love for Kyo (she also reacts badly when he again implies he’s going to let her move on from him). Tohru has been an all-loving heroine, but not all love is the same, and I think Tohru needs a lesson in that before she can start to genuinely help to break the curse.

This being an omnibus, there’s so much more to talk about. Shigure’s self-analysis of his character, which is wonderful – Rin may hate Shigure, but no one hates Shigure the way Shigure hates Shigure. Akito pushing Rin out the window is the most startlingly violent the series has been to date, and the fact that Hiro saw it explains quite a bit from previous volumes. The student council actually do start to have a major impact on the story here, though they’re still somewhat hermetically sealed off from the rest of the cast, and we learn some of why Kakeru is the way he is – though there’s still his connection with Tohru, which remains mysterious. And then there’s Machi, who’s mostly a cypher, albeit a violent cypher. The joy of Fruits Basket is that the omnibus gives you endless time to reread the series and linger over your favorite parts. Also, Kimi is gloriously awful and I love her.

And next month, we get Sorta Cinderella!

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

It’s a stretch to say that reading this series can teach you the ins and outs of how the manga industry works – this isn’t Bakuman, or Even a Monkey Can Draw Manga. But when it’s able to be mined for humor, anything is game. And so we get things like Nozaki trying to draw his shoujo heroine as a superdeformed character, or having a mascot for the series, much like Yukari’s endless tanukis (which litter the cover of this volume, so I can’t even make my tanuki joke at the end of the review). We also get a hilarious look at cover art, where the artist likely has to work with a different editor. There may be a seasonal theme. You may have to try to translate your editor’s art, which shows at a glance why they edit and don’t draw manga. So things are learned, but the humor comes first.

This series does not have plot and character development per se, but there are some amusing chapters that make it look as if things might develop. Mikoshiba discovers the tragic truth behind Wakamatsu’s crush on “Lorelai”, and is as horrified as you’d expect. Waka, meanwhile, continues to think that Kashima is a guy, though the beach episode may have cleared that up – it’s left up in the air. Actually, the beach episode is probably the highlight of the volume – the anime actually adapted it into a later OVA as it was too good not to animate. This features the famous “those are just lumps of fat, aren’t they?” line, Seo stealing the drawstrings of all the boys’ swimtrunks, Kashima and Mikoshiba continuing to be endlessly attractive to the same sex, “I’m wearing that lame pink bra you picked out!”, and more.

As for romance, as you’d expect, it’s status quo. Nozaki-kun is about the comedy. This volume, though, does show how natural Hiro and Kashima are with each other when she’s not driving him to violence, and has some lovely Seo/Waka tease, which is really all she wants from Waka at the moment. The majority of the shipping here, though, is Sakura’s seeming one-sided crush on Nozaki. She even admits to Mikoshiba she’s now too scared to confess as she knows it will just be used for manga fodder. She tries changing her attitude in order to get him to notice her more, but that just makes him worry. In the end, as we know, being herself is the best, even if it means Nozaki is still his oblivious self. The sweetest chapter in the book is the final one, where we flash back to Sakura first falling in love with Nozaki – as you’d expect, it was as much from him being a giant loser as it was his looks – and how she unconsciously influenced his heroine for the manga.

Nozaki-kun remains a wonderfully hilarious title, and now has finally gotten away from the anime, so fans of that will want to pick it up to read new material. Go read it, or the tanuki will be sad. (Oh look, I got to work in the joke anyway.)

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

I have a confession to make. While I love Oresama Teacher, and try to recommend it to everyone I know, I love some parts of it more than others. And I must admit that whenever the narrative turns its attention back to Mafuyu’s old stomping grounds and her underclassmen delinquents, I groan a little. Mostly the reason is that the cast has become nightmarishly huge – check out both the character sheet at the start of the volume and the relationship chart at the end – but the East High/West High guys aren’t as well defined as Midorigaoka’s cast. Kangawa may be the exception, and I’m glad he’s here at the start, but the beginning of this volume, revolving around Mafuyu pretending to be a boy so that Sakurada (a boy who likes to dress as a girl) can let down another guy who’s fallen for “her”. Mafuyu looks bored, and so are we.

Luckily, the rest of the volume is back at Midorigaokoa, and proves far more interesting, as a new as yet unrevealed antagonist is setting out to go after the Student Council and blame “Super Bun”, which of course means Mafuyu. Her secret identity isn’t threatened, at least not yet, but she’s offended at the very idea of someone using Super Bun for nefarious purposes. Also tying into this is the cliffhanger for Vol. 20, where Hayasaka seems to have almost figured out Super Bun’s true identity. Of course, now that there’s a doppelganger running around, that’s all gone to hell. Speaking of doppelgangers, the most intriguing choice this volume was to have Mafuyu, unfamiliar with the concept, end up being rather terrified of discovering just who it is impersonating her – what if it really IS her evil twin?

The titular teacher also takes a backseat in this volume, with Takaomi reminding Mafuyu how easy it is to impersonate Super Bun but not doing much beyond that – he doesn’t seem to care much about what’s going on as long as it doesn’t impact his bet. Also uncaring is Hanabusa, even though the culprit shoves him down the stairs and breaks his arm and leg. Hanabusa is pretty unflappable to begin with, but this is a bit unusual even for him. I have a suspicion that whatever the explanation for this is, it will prove to be far less threatening than we’d expected.

Despite evil doppelgangers, there’s still plenty of humor to go around, though not quite as much of the standard ‘tsukkomi’ variety. Shibuya and Komori’s budding relationship is still adorable, and the fact that the Public Morals Club has been shunned to an extent also makes life difficult for Yui’s relationship with Wakana – though sadly not for the reason everyone expects. As for Mafuyu, aside from Kangawa’s one-sided crush, there’s no romantic movement here at all. But this is not really a romantic manga, even though it may end up with a pairing. It’s a comedy with lots of kicking ass, and that’s what you get here in Vol. 21, same as you did in Vol. 1.

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

Long ago, before this series was licensed and published, I tried to read a fan translation of these novels. I read eight volumes very easily, then bogged down about halfway through this one. A while later I tried again – and the same thing happened. The read came to a grinding halt. This time, with the official release, I am at last able to get to the end of the book, but I do note that the middle section is still a slog. I’ve complained before that Kamachi loves his worldbuilding more than his actual story and characters, and nowhere is this more apparent than in Kamijou, Tsuchimikado and Stiyl discussing the proper use of magic to try to catch Oriana Thomson. It’s fascinating if you’re a D&D-type gamer who loves learning how to use fictional concepts. For a casual reader it’s absolutely deadly. Be warned.

Introduced in this volume: Misaka Misuzu, Fukiyose Seiri, Oriana Thomson, Lidvia Lorenzetti. We also see Touma’s mother Shiina for the first time with her actual appearance, as opposed to Index’s. Continuity-wise, this takes place, obviously, at the same time as Railgun’s Athletic Festival arc in the manga, though most of the events that happen there take place after all this. It’s about 4 days after the events of Book 8, which is why Kuroko is in a wheelchair, and the Railgun manga may now finally make sense to those who wondered that. The events of the Index movie Miracle of Endymion have also just taken place shortly before this.

This is, believe it or not, the first Index arc to take up more than one book. Given the predominance of multi-volume arcs in light novels these days, you’d think it would have happened before this, but no. It’s also the fist book where Kamachi had to admit in the afterword that he wasn’t sure who the heroine was for this particular book. I sort of see why he said this, given that there was attention paid to several girls, but I think at least for this book, Seiri comes closest to being the heroine. It’s just… Kamijou fails to save her, a rarity in this series. Sure, she’s not dead, but I expect her out of commission for the next book. Personality-wise, many might think she’s another tsundere like Mikoto, but that’s not quite accurate – Kamachi may use cliches, but he’s good at shading them. She’s the ‘class president’ sort, which means she’s uptight and rule oriented, and (the class assures us) she isn’t in love with Kamijou, though that’s somewhat suspect. She also has an eccentric love of online shopping products. She’ll never be relevant again, but she was fun to meet.

Oriana is the villain of this book, and possibly the next. She’s yet another magic world user invading Academy City, supposedly to deliver a weapon that cam take out any Saint from a distance, but in reality her motivations – or those of her partner, Lidvia – are far more apocalyptic. Once again religion is used as sort of a D&D class, and that’s not going to change. I liked that she never used the same move twice, to the point that even if it’s a detriment, she CAN’T. There were also several fun and cool moments in the book, such as the class uniting to get revenge on the teacher who made Komoe-sensei cry, as well as various moments when you realize that behind his ‘normal guy’ facade, Kamijou is actually really, really clever about figuring things out.

Sadly, this is to be continued in the next book, so there isn’t much closure here. Instead, I am left with what I was the first two times I tried to read this: Tsuchimikado telling me about magic use and religious systems for what seems like 800 pages. Luckily, I’ve passed it now, and hope Book 10 is less academically dense.

By Rumiko Takahashi. Released in Japan by Shogakukan, serialized in the magazine Shonen Sunday. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by Kaori Inoue, Adapted by Gerard Jones.

When Viz first started its omnibus re-release of Ranma 1/2, I told myself I was going to give every volume a full review, despite the fact that with one or two exceptions there is no plot or characterization development from around Vol. 10 to Vol. 36. And for the most part it’s been a good decision. I’ve been surprised at how much there is to talk about here, and how much more I’m getting out of the series twenty years on. That said, we’re definitely near the end of the series, and it’s starting to show. None of the chapters in this omnibus are horrible, but they are starting to feel tired, and you can sense Takahashi is ready to wrap this up. We’ll begin to see that wrapup with the next omnibus, but for now we have this mediocre book.

There are a few stories that are fairly well remembered by the Ranma fandom, but they ended up being more plotless runaround types than I expected. Ryouga eats a mushroom that turns him into a little kid, and Ranma rapidly follows. While the kids are adorable brats, the emphasis is on the brat part, of course, and so there’s mostly a lot of yelling and fighting. There’s also a lot of Mousse in this book, and readers familiar with my reviews will know that I simply dislike him. Probably the most famous story in the book is the one where the entire family become convinced, after deciding to eat out rather than going home and then returning to find various broken things, that Kasumi has finally snapped and actually gotten angry. It made me wonder if Takahashi was actually following the Western fandom, as a lot of the jokes (and resolution) here could be taken straight from it – except if it were the Western fandom, Kasumi really WOULD have been angry.

There are also some good bits here, as you’d expect for a series of such varying quality as Ranma 1/2. The Valentine Chocolate chapter was genuinely sweet towards the end, and shows off a bit of the ‘yes, they are in love’ that we enjoy so much from Ranma and Akane. And the chapters involving Hinako and Principal Kuno are a Takahashi runaround done right, with great comedy that works, including the revelation of “The Evil Tree… sorry, Three” which had me laugh out loud, and may be the best use of Nabiki ever. And while I felt the whole “Akane’s breasts are growing” arc with Nodoka was drawn out far too long, both that and the previous Nodoka story earlier in the book show this really isn’t going to last much longer – sooner or later, Ranma IS going to meet his mother.

Anyone picking up a 17th omnibus of Ranma is in it for the long haul, of course, and as usual it’s worth getting for the improved reproduction of the art and unflipped state. But we’ve only got two omnibuses to go after this, and I must admit I’m rather relieved.

By Hico Yamanaka | Published by Kodansha Comics

Seventeen-year-old Atsuko is desperate for cash. Her father is an ungrateful drunk, they’re so poor that she’s mocked by classmates for her lack of personal hygiene, and she has resorted to fleecing perverted old men just so she can eat. Shortly after a chance meeting in which she runs into her male doppelganger, Itaru, she is kidnapped by his rich friend, Ryo Sekiuchi, and hired to impersonate Itaru (who has gone missing) for one million yen. Atsuko agrees and tutoring commences. She meets some nice people who are concerned for her welfare and appreciative of her effort, which is something she hasn’t experienced before, and learns that happiness isn’t automatic, even if you live in a huge, beautiful mansion.

I’m on the fence with how I feel about this volume. It’s not nearly as insightful as it could be, and so far the focus is more on Atsuko’s circumstances (first crappy, then unfamiliar) than on Atsuko herself. Her insta-love—after opening the manga by declaring that the greatest misfortune in the world is to fall in love— for Itaru’s friend Nobunari is also completely sudden and unconvincing. A more nuanced interpretation would suggest that Atsuko is so starved for affection that she’ll latch on to any form of kindness, but I have doubts that the mangaka is thinking that deeply about it at all.

That said, there were some things I liked about it. Ryo’s backstory, for example, and his reasons for wanting to protect Itaru from future repercussions from his controlling family. I also like that Itaru may have run off because he is gender nonconforming and that Nobunari seems to be in love with him. It’s probably not good to be more interested in the person who’s off-screen than the actual protagonist, but at least that’s something. Another point in the series’ favor is that it is short. I reckon I like it well enough to see it through to the end.

The Prince in His Dark Days is complete in four volumes. Kodansha will release volume two later this month.

By Ryohgo Narita and Suzuhito Yasuda. Released in Japan by ASCII Mediaworks. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Stephen Paul.

Lately these days when I’m reading light novels I come at it from a different perspective than most North American readers, in that I really am reading it in this format first. I haven’t seen the anime for, say, The Irregular at Magic High School or Strike the Blood, so my opinions tend not to be swayed in advance beyond shamelessly spoiling myself on TV Tropes. But DRRR!! is different – I’ve seen the anime multiple times, and also read Yen’s manga (though the novels have finally passed the manga series timeline-wise), and therefore know where the books are going to go, even if I may be surprised by a narrative quirk or inner monologue. This also allows me to enthuse about characters I love finally showing up, even if it is somewhat baffling as to why I love them.

Case in point: Vorona, one of the two Russians who arrive in this book as professional goons-for-hire. I love Vorona. She’s in my top 5 favorite DRRR!! characters. That said, you’d be hard pressed to see why here, as she’s merely a quirky villain. She speaks in a clipped, soundbite way that not only works very well for a Russian who’s learned Japanese, but also contrasts with all the other Russians speaking Japanese around her, who speak it much more fluently. She’s a repository of useless information, which she doles out to her goofy and somewhat dim partner Slon – be it why cows eating grass makes them fat or why the number 13 is unlucky. And, like the rest of the cast in this series, she’s a little bit broken on the inside, finding her thrills in killing and finding progressively stronger people to fight against. She thinks she’s found someone interesting in this volume with Celty, who is seemingly easily killed only to show up later. Book 6 onward will show more of why I love her.

Knowing the anime can also be a drawback as well, of course. Mikado is written here to be a hopelessly naive dupe, in over his head and trusting Izaya of all people, even thinking to himself that he’s “really a nice guy”, which is so untrue you wonder how on earth Mikado can even survive day-to-day. But as the astute fan knows there’s far more going on in Mikado than just naivete. Aoba can sense it, I think – he sees Mikado grinning as he’s being blackmailed towards the end of the book – but he pretty much thinks he can use Mikado as the public face for his own machinations. This is definitely the first book in a two-book arc, and we’ll learn later on it’s not as simple as that.

As ever with a Narita volume, there’s too much going on here to talk about everything in a review. I didn’t mention Shizuo’s subplot, as Izaya seems determined to irritate him as much as possible, be it sending a young yakuza princess to kill him or framing him for murder. It’s a great plot, and gives us the best interstitial art of the entire series, as Shizuo tries to convince Akane he’s not a bad guy by winking and sticking his tongue out. And Anri’s involved as well, as she also falls under Vorona’s large category of ‘strong monsters that I can try to kill’. And there’s Chikage, the gang leader lothario who’s determined to destroy all the men in the Dollars gang – but don’t hurt the women or you’ll be in trouble. The big downside is, of course, this is all setup. It’s those early episodes of the season that no one liked as they were all preparation for a payoff. Stay tuned for the payoff in Vol. 6.