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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.

Deathtopia, Vol. 1

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It’s never a good sign when you enjoyed the Baka-Updates thread about a manga more than the actual manga, but that’s the case for Deathtopia, a title that scores a hat trick for being gory, exploitative, and boring. Part of the problem is the story: it’s the umpteenth example of an ordinary teen discovering that he’s been chosen to save the world. Koh Fujimura, the hero of Deathtopia, is the only person who can detect the presence of “Them,” a group of super-human predators that commit sadistic, stagey murders. Aiding him in the quest to ferret out these menaces are Maya Hoshimiya, Yui Kisagari, and Saki Yagami, a trio of buxom special agents who favor bustiers and short skirts over traditional uniforms. (Call me crazy, but where do you holster a gun if you’re not wearing any pants?)

All of this would be easier to swallow if manga-ka Yoshinobu Yamada had bestowed any personality on his characters, or supplied them with motives for the work they do. None of the cast, however, show any traces of wit or curiosity; all of them behave like well-programmed robots, dutifully marching from one grotesque crime scene to the next. Yamada allows Koh a few moments of fear and confusion, but these beats land with the emotional force of a Linux manual since we know almost nothing about him. Even the character designs are generic: there’s a pretty girl with short hair and hot pants, a pretty girl with a pony tail and a school uniform, and a pretty girl with long hair and a suit. (Actually, she’s the only one who looks like a law-enforcement agent, since she’s wearing comfortable shoes.) The bad guys, by contrast, are so uniformly and cartoonishly ugly it’s a wonder that Koh, Maya, Yui, and Saki can’t identify them at 50 paces.

Perhaps the most telling sign that Yamada is more interested in cheesecake than plot is that he draws the female characters’ breasts with more individuality than their faces. Yamada further diminishes his female characters by reducing them to types — the psychopathic bitch, the aloof older woman — and making his teenage male hero miraculously “better” at monster-hunting, despite his young age and lack of training. The only evidence of Maya, Yui, and Saki’s superior skill is supplied by Koh himself in the form of a voice-over; he muses that “These women are amazing! Even I can tell that their every move is calculated,” although that statement is undermined by the way Yamada stages a subsequent shoot-out.

The manga’s best gambit is shamelessly pilfered from John Carpenter’s They Live! (1988). In this Reagan-era cult classic, sunglasses enabled the hero to see that aliens were living amongst us, using subliminal messaging to subdue and control humanity:

In Deathtopia, Koh gains a similar ability after eye surgery: he sees the monsters as humans with scribbly, mouthless faces, drifting unnoticed through Tokyo streets. Only when Koh dons glasses does he lose sight of “Them”; in an original touch, glass blocks his monster vision. For all the promise this idea holds, however, Yamada makes no attempt to explore its allegorical potential, instead lavishing most of his attention on dismembered corpses and topless girls. Carpenter, by contrast, used They Live! to explore the evils of consumerism and conformity and deliver one of the longest, goofiest, and most admired fight sequences in B-movie history.

In sum, Deathtopia is the sort of manga you might think was cool if you hadn’t read any manga, or were just hoping to steal a glimpse of naked girls. Anyone who’s read Alive: The Final Evolution, Bloody Monday, Death Note, Platinum End, or even Yamada’s Cage of Eden, however, won’t find much to distinguish Deathtopia from these other teenage male fantasies, as it lacks the verve, polish, and imagination of the best examples in this genre.

DEATHTOPIA, VOL. 1 • BY YOSHINOBU YAMADA • KODANSHA COMICS • RATED M, for MATURE

Murciélago, Vol. 1

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By Yoshimurakana. Released in Japan by Square Enix, serialization ongoing in the magazine Young Gangan. Released in North America by Yen Press. Translated by Christine Dashiell.

Before I get to the actual review, please be advised that when you see the Parental Advisory warning on the cover, it’s not kidding. This series is explicit in both its sex and violence, and in particular those who don’t like gore would do well to avoid it. It’s also another one of those “everyone in the cast is a sociopathic monster” series, where empathy is really hard to come by and you simply have to shrug your shoulders and read it as if it was a Woody Woodpecker cartoon. Once you do that, you’ll realize just how much fun Murciélago is, particularly its mass murdering protegonist, Kuroko. Though I also have to warn you that if you also read One-Punch Man, Kuroko will remind you much of the time of a busty female Saitama.

The premise is that Kuroko is on death row for, well, murdering so many people, but is offered a job by the government as a killer-for-hire to take out the really difficult to capture psychos. Since this will allow her to do whatever the hell she wants legally, she agrees to it straight away. She’s partnered with Hinako, a high school girl (though her normal personality reads more like a ten year old) with an insane ability to drive her car anywhere, including across cityscape roofs. Together the two of them take on an ex-wrestler whose drug habit has led him to a murderous hallucination-driven rage, and some really unfortunate robbers who try to hold up the restaurant they’re eating in. Along the way we also meet Miyuki, a seemingly innocent young girl who somehow ends up roped into Kuroko’s world. Seemingly probably being the right word, though we don’t have much beyond one evil grin yet.

One other thing that bears mentioning is that Kuroko is a lesbian, something we see very explicitly throughout. We meet Kuroko scissoring her lover, the book ends with an online date that turns to sex pretty quickly, and she’s all over every single woman we meet in the book, though Hinako thankfully doesn’t seem to really react to it much. It’s rather refreshing to see a lesbian in mainstream manga portrayed as this blatantly sexual, and I’m sure the only reason it can get away with it is that Kuroko is the “antihero” sort of hero, and is therefore allowed to be as outrageous as possible. That said, honestly the best part of this manga may be the way Kuroko moves and reacts. She seems to be made entirely of limbs at times, does what has been dubbed the “SHAFT head tilt”, and her facial expressions are worth the price of the book alone.

Basically, if you enjoy over the top violence and action with a strong female lead, and don’t mind that everyone in this world except for one rookie cop is completely looney tunes, Murciélago is right up your alley. Fans of Black Lagoon should also enjoy it, though Black Lagoon attempts to have a moral center that Murciélago never bothers with. Great gore-filled fun.

Decapitation: Kubikiri Cycle

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By NISIOISIN, illustrations by take. Released in Japan as “Kubikiri Cycle: Aoiro Savant to Zaregototsukai” by Kodansha. Released in North America by Vertical, Inc. Translated by Greg Moore.

I had thought that I had reviewed this volume when it first came out almost ten years ago from Del Rey books. But no, I hadn’t quite begun my blog yet, though I have reviewed the second (and sadly last) book in the series. But of course that was almost ten years ago. Since then I’ve gotten obsessed with Medaka Box, and I finally joined the herd in getting obsessed with the Monogatari series. So I was ready to revisit the first in Nisioisin’s Zaregoto series, which is finally getting an anime in Japan after so many years. (It also never had a manga, except for an original story spinoff.) If you’re familiar with Nisio’s later works, you’ll find much here that’s familiar, particularly the idea of what “geniuses” are. But those works lack the most important element of these books, and that’s the narrator, Ii-chan.

Nisio loves to take his main characters and have them disparaged, either by the narration himself or by other characters. But usually it’s the other characters that get all the attention. In Medaka Box Medaka is not remotely the most popular character with fans, and I doubt you’ll find many Monogatari fans saying Koyomi is “best girl” either. Zaregoto is all about Ii-chan, though. His seemingly deadpan narration, his seeming stoicism, his seeming need to not care about anything that happens to him or what anyone thinks of him. Seeming being the repeated word, because it’s pointed out repeatedly by the entire cast just how much nonsense his entire attitude is. Which is, of course, the point: he is the “nonsense user” of the subtitle, and at times he almost seems to utter it like a mantra, usually when it’s becoming too apparent that’s he’s slipping out of character.

Ii-chan (real name never given throughout the series, much like Kyon) is the friend and minder of a technological genius, Tomo Kunagisa, who’s been invited to a remote island by an eccentric ex-heiress who likes surrounding herself with these sorts of types. Of course, if the words “remote island” seem suspicious to you, you’ve probably guessed that someone is murdered while they’re there. Now Ii-chan, who is merely a normal boy among all these geniuses, must solve the crime. And that’s a lie as well, as we’re told that Ii-chan himself went to an exclusive school in America just for geniuses, though he maintains that it doesn’t count because he dropped out. Also, despite professing a bad memory and ignorance of many basic principles, he’s quoting obscure philosophy and literature throughout. He is a lying liar who lies, and by the end of the book you can see why many in the story are disgusted with him. He won’t try. He refuses to strive. He goes with the flow. Except of course that is not completely true either. He just wishes it was.

There is a lot of backstory given here, some of which comes up again later in the series and some of which does not. Ii-chan talks about a child who was not allowed to have any contact with the outside world for the first ten years of their life, but it’s unclear if he means Kunagisa or himself. Certainly Kunagisa seems to suffer from a case of arrested development – she’s supposedly the same age as Ii-chan, who’s about to start college, but looks and acts about eleven years old. She’s also the head of a former cyber-terrorist group that terrified the world while also advancing its tech beyond most people’s wildest dreams. And she and Ii-chan are clearly used to corpses and investigating – one of the funniest parts of the book is their blank disbelief at why Yayoi is so upset and edgy – after all, it’s just a murder.

Honestly, the murder mystery is possibly the least interesting part of the book – again, not uncommon with this author, where frequently you read things for the dialogue or narrative tone rather than what’s actually happening. I’d actually say it’s overly complex, with two too many twists and turns at the very end – I think Nisio agreed with me, as around the 3rd book in the series he simply stopped making the books mysteries at all. That said, I still love and highly recommend the book, if only for its fascinating and frustrating narrator. And I’m hoping it does well enough that Vertical might put out the second in the series, which is even better.

Happiness, Vols. 1-2

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The first chapter of Happiness reads like a teenage boy’s answer to Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret. Makoto, the principle character, is doing his best to cope with the indignities of being fourteen: he’s bullied by the popular kids, pestered by his well-meaning but clueless mother, and embarrassed by his lustful reactions to pretty girls. Though he has one friend — the equally uncool Nunota — Makoto spends most of his time alone.

A nighttime trip to the convenience store, however, jolts Makoto out of his routine. In a dark alley, a female vampire tackles and pins him to the ground, offering the following ultimatum: “Do you want to die like this, or do you want to be like me?” With tears and snot streaming down his face, Makoto whimpers, “I don’t want to die,” thus beginning his transformation from ordinary teen to bloodsucker.

If Makoto thought that wet dreams and wedgies were awful, he soon discovers that they pale in comparison with the first stages of vampirism. He suffers from an unquenchable, almost violent thirst and finds direct sunlight blisteringly painful. Worse still, his sense of smell is now so acute that he swoons and sweats in the presence of bloody noses, cuts, and girls, a symptom that sends him into an even deeper spiral of shame. The only potential upside to his condition is his supernatural strength: though he still looks like a 100-pound weakling, he can leap from great heights and deliver a lethal karate chop when the scent of blood is in the air.

Given Makoto’s age, it’s not surprising that author Shizuno Oshimi treats his hero’s transformation as a metaphor for puberty itself. In the manga’s earliest scenes, Oshimi frankly documents Makoto’s efforts to cope with hormonal surges and maternal helicoptering, capturing Makoto’s discomfort in his own skin. As Makoto begins turning into a vampire, however, his increasingly urgent thirst for blood amplifies the very aspects of puberty that most embarrass him — his keen interest in sex, his inability to conceal his arousal from others — making him feel even more powerless.

To capture Makoto’s turbulent emotions, Oshimi employs a variety of artistic styles. Some panels are rendered in smudgy pastels, suggestive of a foggy evening, while other panels are rendered in swirling, pulsating lines reminiscent of The Scream. These visual interludes last only a page or two, but vividly capture the nausea, pain, and confusion Makoto experiences in the grips of bloodlust.

Perhaps no scene is as evocative as that first encounter between Makoto and the female vampire. Oshimi uses rapid shifts in perspective and a few fleeting images — a shadowy figure plunging through space, a dark smear of blood — to indicate what’s happening. The extreme close-ups and feverish pacing neatly mimic Makoto’s growing sense of panic as he considers the possibility of dying in an alleyway — and not just any death, but a potentially humiliating one. (And really, what could be worse than that from a fourteen-year-old’s perspective?)

The pacing, like the artwork, is expertly handled. Oshimi has a knack for lulling readers into a false sense of security that Makoto will transcend (or master) his vampirism and silence his tormentors. Then — bam! Oshimi inserts a twist or introduces a new character who contradicts our sense of how socially maladroit or invulnerable Makoto really is. The appearance in volume two of a new bloodsucker, for example, reveals the extent to which vampires pose an active threat to one another — something that Makoto in his solipsistic misery never considered when he agreed to become a vampire himself.

And speaking of volume two, Oshimi does an excellent job of expanding and developing the cast of characters. By volume’s end, there’s more at stake than Makoto’s desire to escape humiliation; Makoto must decide whether to become a full-fledged vampire or fight for his humanity, a decision complicated by his budding friendship with a female classmate. How Makoto resolves this dilemma remains to be seen, though his struggle should provide plenty of dramatic grist for volume 3 (available February 14th).

The bottom line: Happiness is a rare vampire manga with bite: it’s smart, stylish, and unsettling, drawing readers into Makoto’s world with an honest look at the horrors of being fourteen. And what could be scarier than that?

HAPPINESS, VOLS. 1-2 • BY SHIZUNO OSHIMI • KODANSHA COMICS • RATING: OT, for OLDER TEENS (16+)

Wave, Listen to Me!, Vol. 1

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By Hiroaki Samura. Released in Japan as “Nami yo Kiite Kure” by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Afternoon. Released in North America digitally by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Adam Hirsch.

The digital-only manga is something we’ve seen pop up quite a bit over the last few years, and now the big print companies are getting into it as well. Hiroaki Samura is well-known and beloved for his classic samurai series Blade of the Immortal, so you’d think that his next project would be an obvious get. But just like you don’t necessarily pick up the Fullmetal Alchemist creator’s new work when it’s a farming manga, you don’t necessarily have a built in audience for the samurai guy writing about a brash young woman who finds herself recruited for the wonders of the local radio station. Luckily, Kodansha is releasing this digitally, and I think it’s strong enough that with good word of mouth, it could warrant a print release.

Wave, Listen to Me! runs 100% on its heroine, and if you don’t like her, you’re not going to like the book. She doesn’t exactly make it easy to like her, either. When we meet Minare she’s drunk, talking to an older guy in a bar simply because he’s there, and bemoaning her recent failed relationship. You’d expect that this is the sort of behavior that would only come out when she’s drunk, and that she’ll regret it later. This is only partially true – she regrets some of the whining and bad relationship talk she gave, but it turns out that she’s pretty much like this when sober as well. Why is she regretting what she said to some guy in a bar? Well, turns out he recorded her… and that he’s a radio producer. When she hears her ranting monologue on the air, it leads to the possibility of a brand-new career. Which is good, because Minare’s life right now is a hot mess.

This is a fun, funny manga, and I enjoyed that it allowed us to be amused at all of Minare’s horribly wrong choices without actually making her look pathetic or annoying. (Also, ten points for her athleticism in taking out the guy who supposedly is assaulting her – though again, this turns out to be an error in judgment.) Minare says what she thinks and tends to act impulsively, which is why she’s a walking disaster, but is also why she has guys like Nakahara who are totally smitten with her. The parts of the book dealing with her radio career are more interesting than the romance, and I am very wary of the “other woman” who shows up to allegedly help at the restaurant Minare works at to make up for her brother’s running over the owner (as is Minare). But honestly, I would read 200 pages of this woman reading the phone book to us. It is very much a one-character title, and I really love the character.

Luckily, I won’t have too long to wait – the second volume is out next week. If you enjoy manga about strong, loud, flawed adult women and their misadventures in living, or even if you just love radio, this is a winner. Go buy it so we can get it in print.

Demon Prince of Momochi House Vols. 5 and 6

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As I was trying to get caught up on this series one of the things that struck me about Demon Prince of Momochi House is that Aya Shouoto has developed a unique sensibility for the series. It manages to blend warm heartfelt moments about a found family (even if that family is a house of beautiful spirits) with moments of unsettling menace and a general lingering sense of unease due to the fact that as the human in Momochi house, a wrong decision by Himari might have profound consequences. The tension between these two themes is part of what makes reading this series so rewarding.

Demon Prince of Momochi House Volume 5 by Aya Shouoto

One of the things I appreciate about manga series with an expanded cast of characters is the chance to delve into the motivations and feelings of characters who aren’t as central to the main story. This volume opens with a story centering on Yukari. The house is sweltering, but he seems to be unaffected. Yukari reveals that he used to be human, but this revelation isn’t followed up on very much as the gang decide to travel somewhere to escape the horrible weather. They visit a spring from Yukari’s past where the dragon god Ryujin used to be a guardian. There’s something wrong with the water though, and Yukari wonders if if it might be an indication of trouble for Ryujin. Himari is quick to jump in and offer to help. They call the god Ryujin and he takes Himari away. Aoi in his spiritual form as the Nue goes after her immediately. In the end, Yukari and Ryujin renew their connection and the found family in Momochi House feels as though it has expanded once again.

One thing I was intrigued by was the continuing presence of Aoi’s old childhood friend Hayato. His memories of the supernatural and Aoi were erased, but he continues to be a bit of a melancholy presence at school, and he does represent a possible friend for Yukari who isn’t tied to the supernatural world. He and Yukari get thrown together at school, but she ends up openly talking about her feelings with Aoi, and he denies thinking of her romantically.

Demon Prince of Momochi House Volume 6 by Aya Shouoto

The next volume finds Yukari and Aoi dealing with the aftermath of her confession. She wakes up in the morning to a teenage girl’s worst nightmare as everyone at Momochi house knows that her feelings have been rejected. They start throwing a party to commemorate her rejection. Even school isn’t a refuge, as Hayato guesses what’s wrong and starts patting Yukari on the head in commiseration. There’s some distraction in the form of a new teacher, who looks suspiciously like Aoi, and who happens to have a mysterious mirror that sends Yukari into a dream of a mirror dimension comprised of her own thought projections and feelings.

Back at Momochi house, Aoi is distracted and Ayakashi are starting to pop up from all over. A giant malicious cat spirit who seems to be a bit emotionally fixated on Aoi moves in temporarily and sets up a number of tests designed to torment Yukari, except she sails through them with her usual good cheer and indefatigable work ethic.

While at times this manga seems like a series of short episodes, at the end of each volume the relationships between the characters have shifted, sometimes in a dramatic fashion and sometimes in more subtle ways. The mysterious ties of Aoi to Momochi house continue to make the reader feel uneasy for the young couple and intrigued to see their next adventures.

One-Punch Man, Vols. 1-11

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By ONE and Yusuke Murata | Published by VIZ Media

opm1My name is Saitama. I am a hero. My hobby is heroic exploits. I got too strong. And that makes me sad. I can defeat any enemy with one blow. I lost my hair. And I lost all feeling. I want to feel the rush of battle. I would like to meet an incredibly strong enemy. And I would like to defeat it with one blow. That’s because I am One-Punch Man.

One-Punch Man is much loved on Manga Bookshelf, and now I can finally be included in the group singing its praises!

Three years ago, depressed after botching a job interview, Saitama encountered a crab monster. Defeating it was much more enjoyable than looking for a job, so he decided to become a hero for fun. Since then, he’s been vanquishing the monsters that plague his city but not getting any credit for it. (Who is receiving the credit is a later plot point.) Overwhelming strength has become boring, but when he meets Genos, a cyborg driven by revenge, he gains a disciple and also learns about the Hero Association, which employs heroes of various classes and dispatches them as needed to counter various monstrous threats, which have been on the rise.

opm6The balancing act ONE and Murata achieve here is impressive. On the one hand, One-Punch Man is gloriously silly. Heroes and foes alike are apt to be ludicrous, and some of the former have terrific names like Tank Top Vegetarian or Spring Mustachio (although I actually think he’s pretty cool). On the other hand, there is a lot of excellent shounen manga storytelling going on. The way Saitama lives his life without criticism for others makes me think he’d get along well with One Piece‘s Luffy, and the devotion his pupil Genos shows for him means they can always rely on each other. Too, after Saitama joins the Hero Association, we get regular updates on how his rank is improving, and this puts him in contact with even more heroes, some of whom are inept, some of whom are capable, and one of whom might actually be an enemy. He doesn’t seek glory, so many are unaware of his true strength, but I assume that eventually he will attain the rank he deserves (currently, due to poor performance on the written test, he’s far below Genos).

Although I don’t ordinarily comment much on art, Murata employs quite a few innovative tricks that make reading One-Punch Man different than the average manga. For one thing, Saitama is almost always drawn with a simple, bland expression, making the few times he looks determined or actually heroic a nice treat. Plus, I love how we get back-to-back two-page spreads from time to time. Some of these depict combatants exchanging blows, first with one landing a punch and then the other, but he also uses them to zoom in from, say, an attack that is heading Saitama’s way down to his fist that is about to get serious. It’s a fun way of depicting the action while continuing to incorporate humor. (Oh, incidentally, Saitama’s special attack, almost never required, is awesomely called “Consecutive Normal Punches.” We’ve only seen the finishing move—Serious Punch!!!—once so far.)

As of volume eleven, there are several plotlines in play. Monsters are appearing everywhere, and appear to be organizing. Is this tied in with the prediction of an extinction-level event within the next six months? What about that hint of a possible traitor that was dropped a few volumes back? While a rogue martial artist named Garo is hunting heroes, Saitama is off at a martial arts tournament to learn more how to defeat Garo (not knowing that he totally already did) and seems destined to face off against another strong fighter who is desperate for a challenge. I admire how this story has widened in scope in a natural way, without compromising the balance of narrative and humor. It could conceivably go on for a very long time, and I deeply hope it does.

One-Punch Man is ongoing in Japan, where it is up to twelve volumes. Currently, VIZ has released ten volumes in print and eleven digitally.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Dorohedoro, Vol. 20

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By Q Hayashida. Released in Japan by Shogakukan, serialization ongoing in the magazine Hibana. Released in North America by Viz. Translated by AltJapan Co., Ltd. (Hiroko Yoda + Matt Alt).

The first thing a reader will notice when they pick up this volume of Dorohedoro is how much bigger it is than previous ones. I’m not sure if it’s due to the move from Ikki to Hibana, or if it’s because they’re trying to pack more chapters in per volume so that it doesn’t get above a certain volume count (Hayashida was supposed to have the series end at 20, which clearly isn’t happening), but extra content is always welcome, especially when it brings us a lot of shocking and surprising plot twists. And yes, some incredibly confusing ones as well, to be fair. Add the return of some fan favorites, and a great big heaping of fanservice, and the average Dorohedoro fan should be quite content.

The shocking plot twists (OK, maybe not shocking for some, but I honestly have trouble keeping up with everything in this series, so I was shocked) involves the true nature of The Hole, as revealed by Chidaruma as he waits for his delicious gyoza (and I can’t tell you how happy I was to see gyoza coming back into play in this series, even if it wasn’t Nikaido making it). The Hole’s creation is tragic and sickening, and it helps to show why the battle between sorcerers and everyone else is such a big deal. We also get a lot more about the true nature of Caiman/Kai/Aikawa/Ai, and the slashes there aren’t just for show, as he seems to be cycling through several of those people (and several of those heads) throughout the book, trying to figure out what exactly happened to him when he fell into the Hole so many years ago.

Then there’s the return of En and company, though honestly it’s mostly En – Shin, Noi and the others play only minor roles here (it is nice to see Shin is no longer controlled by evil, though). I was initially rather startled at how uncaring En was to Ebisu, given how much she’s worked towards resurrecting him, but then again, this is En, and he has no idea what happened while he was gone. Plus, to be fair, Ebisu *is* really annoying, partly as a function of the brain damage she’s suffered but also partly as the author just finds it amusing. Speaking of finding things amusing, most of the fanservice in this series has tended to involve Nikaido and her large breasts, and this volume milks that for all it’s worth, as she gets taken out fairly early in a fight and spends the entire rest of the volume topless and helpless. That too also seems to be the author having fun, especially given that the cliffhanger ending is “OMG, what happened to Nikaido’s boobs?”. I’m not making this up.

In any case, there’s a ton of stuff going on in this volume, and I was mostly able to follow along. Of course, we’re mostly caught up with Japan, so don’t expect the next volume till June. But in the meantime, a strong example of why this series continues to be the SigIkki flagship, even if Ikki is no more.

Vinland Saga, Vol. 8

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Vinland Saga, Omnibus 8Creator: Makoto Yukimura
Translator: Stephen Paul
U.S. publisher: Kodansha
ISBN: 9781682335406
Released: December 2016
Original release: 2014-2015
Awards: Japan Media Arts Award, Kodansha Manga Award

For a time it seemed as though the fate of the English-language edition of Makoto Yukimura’s epic award-winning manga series Vinland Saga was in question. Happily though, Kodansha Comics has been able to continue releasing the series. While the seventh omnibus reached a satisfying conclusion to one of the series’ major story arcs, it was still obvious that Yukimura had more to tell. I honestly believe that Vinland Saga is one of the strongest manga currently being released in English. It is also a personal favorite of mine, so I was thrilled when the eighth hardcover omnibus was finally released in 2016, collecting the fifteenth and sixteenth volumes of the original Japanese edition published between 2014 and 2015. Unlike the past few omnibuses of Vinland Saga, there is no additional content directly relating to the series (I was sad not to see the continuation of the “Ask Yukimura” section), but it does include an extensive preview of Kazuhiro Fujita’s The Ghost and the Lady, another historically-inspired manga available from Kodansha.

Finally free from his life of slavery but still bound by the violence of his past, Thorfinn travels back to Iceland in order to briefly reunite with his family before setting into motion his plans for the future. Accompanied by Einar, Leif, and “Bug-Eyes,” Thorfinn intends to colonize Vinland in an attempt to create a peaceful settlement far removed from the wars and violence seemingly inherent to the Norse way of life. But before that they must first secure the resources and supplies needed for the venture and support from others will be hard to come by–Thorfinn has very little to offer a potential investor except for ideals and his own life. Initially it seemed that they could secure the aid of Halfdan, a wealthy landowner who was already planning to become a relative of Leif’s by marrying his son to the widow of Lief’s brother, but then the wedding doesn’t go quite as planned. Thorfinn and the others may very well have gained themselves a few new enemies when they flee Iceland with Gudrid, the runaway bride.

Vinland Saga, Omnibus 8, page 50From the beginning, many of the women in Vinland Saga have been strong, memorable characters (Thorfinn’s sister and mother in particular are marvelous), but for the most part the focus of the series has been on the stories of the men. However, with the eighth omnibus there is a notable change in the manga with he introduction of Gudrid who becomes one of the main characters of Vinland Saga. In fact, a great deal of the plot currently directly revolves around her. I absolutely adore Gudrid. Like Thorfinn, she is struggling against the constraints of what is considered acceptable by the culture and traditions of their society. She has absolutely no interest in marriage or in behaving like a “proper” woman; her heart has always been set on exploring the world around her and expanding her horizons. Gudrid repeatedly proves that her worth is equal to or even greater than that of a man. Eventually, her persistence and brashness pays off although the circumstances surrounding her becoming a sailor are admittedly less than ideal.

Gudrid isn’t the only great female character to be introduced in the eighth Vinland Saga omnibus. Among others, there is also Astrid, Halfdan’s wife, and Hild, a young woman who proves once more that Thorfinn can never truly escape his past misdeeds. While many of the previous omnibuses have been battle-oriented, the eight omnibus tends to pay more attention to the characters themselves and their relationships. However, there are still a few excellent action sequences and Yukimura’s artwork continues to be dynamic and dramatic even when physical violence is not as prominent. For example, Halfdan exudes an aura of intensity and power–the way he is drawn and visually framed is frequently reminiscent of the way King Canute was portrayed, emphasizing his status and influence. This, of course, makes it even more satisfying when Astrid calmly, quietly, and fearlessly puts her husband in his place. (I really hope to see more of Astrid in the future.) Vinland Saga remains an incredibly well-done manga. With a growing cast of fantastic, complex characters, an engrossing story exploring themes of freedom and violence, and excellent artwork, I can’t wait to read more.

BL Bookrack: Ten Count, Vols. 1-2

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MJ: Wow, it’s been… a long time hasn’t it, my friend?

MICHELLE: I am scared to even verify how long it has been. A couple of years, at least!

MJ: So what’s brought us here today is the boys’ love series Ten Count (volumes one and two ) by Rihito Takarai, published here by SuBLime. From what I understand, the series has reached five volumes (ongoing) in Japan. The third volume is due out from SuBLime next month.

MICHELLE: Would you like to start?

MJ: Sure!

Shirotani is a lifelong germaphobe, resigned to his condition, though it keeps him isolated from others. Fortunately, with the help of his understanding employer, he is able to tolerate his job as secretary to a corporate CEO. It is in the corporate line of duty, then, that he first meets Kurose, a therapist at a local mental health clinic. Kurose notices Shirotani’s condition immediately, and suggests he seek help, but though Shirotani is able to make his way to the clinic, he can’t bring himself to go inside. Acknowledging this difficulty, Kurose offers to help him in a non-clinical capacity, as a friend, an arrangement to which Shirotani eventually agrees. As Kurose slowly helps him accomplish progressively difficult tasks (touching a doorknob with his bare hand, buying a book from a bookstore), the two become close in ways that complicates their relationship and threatens the fragile boundaries between them.

Fans of BL manga don’t need me to explain what that means, or probably why my greatest fear with this series would be that the therapist/patient dynamic (even in the context of them being “friends”) would create a problematic imbalance of power. And it does, though not right away. Had I read only the first volume, this paragraph would be a very different one, gratefully dismissing my fears and filled with satisfied discussion of their slowly-evolving relationship and lots of talk about how that kind of careful development is so rare and wonderful in this genre. Had I read only the first volume, I would have declared a lot of love for this series. Unfortunately, Kurose’s careful handling of Shirotani is abandoned less than two chapters into the second volume, when after declaring his love for Shirotani, he mercilessly forces him into accepting sexual contact (against Shirotani’s clear protestations), which only escalates as the volume continues. In fact, Shirotani’s germaphobia makes the situation even more brutal, as Kurose is not only performing non-consensual sexual acts with Shirotani, but also blatantly ignoring Shirotani’s boundaries regarding skin-to-skin contact without any of the thoughtful consideration he promised as part of their initial arrangement. It’s obvious that the author intended the germaphobia as a metaphorical stand-in for the typical uke resistance so popular in BL, but instead it just feels like piling on.

MICHELLE: What I found most interesting to contemplate is that Kurose does, in fact, give Shirotani opportunity to object. He warns him that he’s going to attempt these kinds of things if they continue to see each other, and asks questions like, “Did you really not like what we did a moment ago?” Sometimes, Shirotani is able to give voice to his objections, but he also holds back his disgust, and I have to think that’s because he doesn’t want to drive Kurose, the only person to whom he has any kind of close relationship, away. How much, then, does Shirotani actually reciprocate and how much is he just desperate to keep Kurose in his life?

If I had faith that Takarai was wanting us to consider this question in a thoughtful way, I’d be fairly happy. But there are a few comments, mostly in bonus stories or author asides, that make me think she is setting up a dominant/submissive paradigm in which Kurose simply enjoys seeing Shirotani squirm, and that is very troubling indeed.

MJ: Yeah, you’re right—he often does ask Shirotani for permission to do something, or for confirmation that he’s enjoying himself, but those check-ins feel pretty empty, considering the fact that he generally moves on with what he’s doing without anything resembling actual enthusiastic consent. And if she’s trying to set up a dominant/submissive relationship, she’s doing it 50 Shades style, which only furthers my discomfort. Kurose’s behavior becomes increasingly controlling over the course of the second volume, by the end of which he has not only violated most of Shirotani’s personal and sexual boundaries, but also has begun infantilizing him to a truly creepy degree. Between declaring a preference for a “childlike” hairstyle and outright asking Shirotani to agree to be “dependent” on him, Kurose has basically given up any pretense of respect or even basic acknowledgement of Shirotani’s agency as an (older!!) adult man. It is a testament to the strength of the series’ first volume that I’m even still reading this thing. But I would be lying if I said that it hadn’t broken my heart.

I understand that rape fantasy is a thing, and that it’s in poor taste to judge other people (especially femme-identified people, who are this genre’s target audience) for such fantasies. And on some level, I even understand a bit why someone’s fantasy might include giving up control, though I’d probably understand that better if we lived in a world where acknowledgement of a woman’s control over her own body was not considered a radical political act. I also understand that it’s, at the very least, pointless to wish for a story to be a different one than what its author wants to tell. I know that I should simply accept that something is not for me and move on. But after a full volume of something that *seems* to be for me, that truth can be difficult to swallow.

MICHELLE: Another thing that strikes me about the questions Kurose poses is how detached and clinical they can seem, even after a sexual act. One example is, “Were you more concerned with the possibility that I found you unpleasant than whether or not you found the situation itself unpleasant?” Leaving aside the tacit admission that he knows Shirotani could’ve been finding the situation unpleasant, attempting to reassert the therapist/patient dynamic at such a moment is, well, kind of creepy.

I’m not ready to give up on the series yet. Like I said, I want to believe Takarai is trying to make a more subtle point here, but I just don’t know. If volume three is more of the same, it might be too much for me, too.

MJ: Upsides of this series that extend beyond its fairly awesome first volume include Shirotani’s sweet, understanding boss, whose constant mindfulness regarding Shirotani’s discomfort and physical boundaries paint a picture of a pretty awesome guy. Similarly, Shirotani’s acquaintance from his company’s sales department, Mikami, proves himself over and over to be a good friend and a stand-up guy. It’s a shame that these characters, who operate without personal motive and truly seem to have Shirotani’s best interests at heart aren’t the people he trusts most. I can’t help but think that if either of them knew what was going on, they’d be the first to jump to Shirotani’s defense and help him get the hell out of the abusive relationship he’s been lured into by Kurose.

MICHELLE: I liked them, too! I really wanted to believe that Shirotani was indeed able to make progress in his therapy with Mikami, as he initially claimed to do, though we later learn he was lying in hopes that he could resume seeing Kurose. Perhaps it was some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, in a way. Like, he tried with Mikami, and had no success, and now he believes that Kurose is the key to moving forward, thus increasing his dependence. He is able to achieve some things for these people in his life, though, like when his desire to find a book to entertain his hospitalized boss results in a successful purchase at a bookstore.

Regarding Kurose and his motivations, do you think there’s still some reveal to come? When he has Shirotani write out the list of ten activities he feels aversion for, with ten being something he thinks he could never do, Shirotani leaves that one blank. Kurose refuses to divulge his reasons for helping Shirotani on his own time until Shirotani fills in that tenth item. Do we already know that it’s because he was falling in love? Or is it something like, “I’m secretly a major sadist”?

MJ: That’s a really good question! I feel like I have no idea. I mean, on one hand, things have gone so far at this point I’m sort of just expecting the usual “tortured uke” trope to continue from this point, with more and more uncomfortable sex scenes and less and less real storytelling. So I’m not as optimistic as I’d like. On one hand, the series obviously continues beyond this, but I wonder if it will continue to really explore and examine this relationship or whether it will just turn to side characters like so many deceivingly-long BL series do.

Your whole first paragraph, though, just reminds me how much I loved the first volume! Gah! I want to be optimistic!

MICHELLE: So do I, and part of me thinks there’s still room for something great to evolve from this. I’m thinking of Tomoko Yamashita’s marvelous The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, actually, in which no sexual contact has occurred, but in which one lead (Hiyakawa) casually appropriates the body of the other (Mikado) in a way that alarms others but which the affected party chooses not to think too deeply about because with Hiyakawa around, he no longer feels alone or potentially crazy for his ability to see spirits. There are some definite parallels to Ten Count there, but Yamashita is more clearly going into a psychological direction with her story, whereas Takarai seems to be taking a more traditional, explicit route.

I will still read volume three, though. How about you?

MJ: I will probably give this series one more volume, yes, even though I don’t feel as optimistic as I wish I did. Also, I’ll second your shout-out to The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, which manages to talk about consent more thoughtfully, despite its supernatural premise. In that series, there is at least another character screaming out, “THIS IS NOT OKAY” all the time, so that we’re aware that the author knows there is a problem. It makes all the difference in the world.

MICHELLE: Indeed it does.

MJ: Bottom line, though this series starts off as a thoughtful look at the slow development of a tricky but potentially important relationship between a lonely professional who becomes friendly with a younger mental health specialist, its second volume takes a dark turn, devolving into a tale of emotional abuse, sexual assault, and deeply broken trust. We’ll probably keep reading it, but buyer beware.

Ranma 1/2, Vols. 35-36

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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.

I was quite excited by this omnibus of Ranma 1/2 when I got it. Not only does it feature not one but TWO appearances by Akari, my favorite minor character, but is also resolves a plot point. That may not seem like much to those of you who are used to plot and characterization in your manga, but this is Ranma 1/2, the title where everything is done for the humor, and everything will always snap back with few if any lessons learned. Taking this manga and these characters seriously is, as we’ve learned, a mug’s game. But yes, we actually get forward progression here (you can see that she had decided to end Ranma soon). No, Ranma and Akane don’t confess. No, no curses are broken. But Ranma’s mother now knows the truth about her son. And he doesn’t have to kill himself.

The whole sequence leading up to Nodoka discovering the truth is without a doubt the highlight of the book. It also, out of necessity, shows Genma at his absolute worst, a desperate, petty ass who would happily destroy his marriage in exchange for a good meal. As for Ranma, he’s trying really hard to shrug off what his father has taught him to believe, and finally decides to give in and face whatever consequences come from his mother discovering he can turn into a girl. (In fact, his happy expression when he resolves to do this may be one of the best panels in Ranma, period.) There’s also a lot of action, as Ranma and Genma constantly fight back and forth to attempt to stop the other, and it all ends in a fall off a giant cliff into the sea. (I also liked Soun, Kasumi and Nabiki’s understated presence throughout – they’re on Ranma’s side, even if awkwardly.) It’s a really good arc.

The rest of the book is not quite as good. Leaving aside yet another arc devoted to Ranma and Akane mistaking “I am embarrassed by my feelings” for “I hate you”, we have the introduction of Konatsu, a ninja with a poor family situation who somehow ends up at Ucchan’s. Given that fandom has paired Akari and Konatsu together by the function they fill (late-period characters introduced to ‘resolve’ parts of the love septangle), you’d think I’d be more accepting of him, but I’m not really. First of all, unlike Ryouga and Akari, any love seen here is clearly one-sided – Ukyou is literally paying Kanatsu the equivalent of 5 cents to work for her, and barely seems to acknowledge him as a human being. More to the point, though, Konatsu is just a rehash of Tsubasa Kurenai from earlier volumes, and reminds the reader that Rumiko Takahashi is simply not very good at writing trans characters, even giving her a pass of “this is the 1990s”.

And so, despite one piece of forward progression, this volume ends as it begins. In fact, thanks to the destruction of the Saotome home, we now have Nodoka living at the Tendos in addition to Ranma and Genma. Is there anything that can possibly resolve this manga and give it a happy ending>? Well. yes there is, though it depends on how broadly you define “resolve” and “ending”. Stay tuned next time for the final gripping installment of Ranma 1/2!

The Girl From the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Vol. 1

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On the surface, The Girl From the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún looks like a fairy tale. It unfolds in a long-ago, far-away place governed by one simple rule: humans and Outsiders must never cross paths. The principal characters are Shiva, a young girl, and Teacher, an Outsider who adopted Shiva after finding her alone in the woods. At first glimpse, their situation seems idyllic, two opposites living harmoniously in a charming little cottage — that is, until the human and demon worlds take interest in Shiva, testing Teacher’s commitment to protecting her.

Probe a little deeper, however, and it becomes clear that the manga’s nuanced characterizations elevate Shiva and Teacher from fairy tale archetypes to fully realized characters. Shiva, for example, talks and acts like a real six-year-old, toggling between moments of impetuousness and thoughtfulness. Though she is obviously fond of Teacher, she fantasizes about a reunion with her aunt, fervent in her desire to rejoin the human world. Shiva has an inkling that Teacher might be “sad” if she left, but she cannot fully appreciate his anguish over their possible separation. (Translator Adrienne Beck and adaptor Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane deserve special mention for voicing Shiva’s dialogue with naturalism; Shiva never sounds older or wiser than her years.)

The sophisticated artwork, too, plays an important role in transporting the reader to a specific place and time, rather than simply “long ago.” Nagabe’s elegant pen and ink drawings demonstrate a superb command of light; using washes and cross-hatching, she evokes a world lit by fire, where the glow of a candle casts a small spell against the darkness, and monsters lurk in the shadows. Her figure drawings are likewise strong, neatly conveying the characters’ personalities in a few well-chosen details. Teacher, for example, is a clever amalgamation of animal and demon parts. His most menacing features — his mouthless face and piercing eyes — are tempered by the way he carries himself; he’s fastidious in his movements and dress, gliding through the woods with the graceful, upright posture of a dancer.

Lest The Girl From the Other Side sound mawkish or precious, the brisk pacing and crisp dialogue prevent the story from sagging under the poignancy of the characters’ dilemma. It’s perhaps a little early to nominate it for a “Best of 2017” award, but this promising first volume demonstrates a level of craft, imagination, and restraint that’s sorely lacking in many fantasy manga. Highly recommended.

THE GIRL FROM THE OTHER SIDE: SIUIL, A RUN, VOL. 1 • BY NAGABE • SEVEN SEAS • RATING: ALL AGES