Reviews

By Carl Barks. Released in North America in 1948 and 1949, first published in various Walt Disney comic books by Western Publishing. This new edition released by Fantagraphics.

It seems rather odd to say this, but I never grew up reading Carl Barks. My comic book experience as a child was pretty much Archie, Asterix and Tintin. I read the occasional Plastic Man as well, but DC and Marvel just held no interest for me. Likewise, though I enjoyed Disney movies and the odd short I saw, the lack of Disney Channel in our house meant I missed out on the desire to get more Donald Duck adventures at any cost. And I’d never quite had enough word of mouth to get the many re-releases of Barks’s material over the years. But Fantagraphics has had some excellent archive material over the years, and when I heard them announce this, even though it wouldn’t technically be published in order, I decided to sit down and figure out why this man is so revered.

I didn’t end up disappointed. This is really fantastic storytelling. Another review of this volume compared it to Tintin, and I think that’s very apt. There’s the adventures in foreign lands, the constant peril, the occasional wacky gags thrown in to alleviate said peril, and of course good old American ingenuity that, thankfully, never verges on jingoism quite as much as Tintin sometimes did. Heck, there’s even some questionable racial caricatures, although again I note that compared to what other artists were doing at the time, Barks was miles ahead. These aren’t cartoon cannibals or witch doctors – even if they’re drawn in a comic based around cartoons.

The volume takes in one year of Barks at his ‘peak’ – 1948 and 1949 – and features four adventure stories of 20-30 pages in length, about nine shorter comedy stories that are 10 pages each; and ends with a series of one-page gag pages. For those who are hardcore about reading in order, the actual publication dates are on the final page, but I didn’t really notice any issues – these aren’t continuity laden strips. The adventure strips are the best of the lot, so it makes sense to pack the front half with them. Lost in the Andes gets the cover and title, and rightly so -it has an epic flavor that the others don’t quite hit, and even manages to be majestic, while still believably starring Donald Duck. The search for square eggs is nicely silly, and manages to merge nicely with the lost world Donald and his nephews find. This is the longest tale in the book, but the pacing never lags.

The other three adventure stories aren’t quite as good, but are still well worth a read. Voodoo Hoodoo was apparently censored in some previous Barks books, and is presented warts and ll here, including its African zombies and witch doctors. (Shouldn’t the zombie be Haitian? Oh well, never mind…) Most of all, it features a thoroughly despicable Uncle Scrooge, who I’m presuming has not yet become a featured player, and who seems to happily wish a fate worse than death on his own nephew. Race to the South Seas also features Scrooge being a jerk, though slightly less malevolent here. I also met Donald’s cousin Gladstone, who appears to have immense good luck but a horrible personality. This helps make Donald more sympathetic than he otherwise is. Lastly is The Golden Christmas Tree, which doesn’t work quite as well, mostly as the story is less realistic, and has a mawkish moral not written by Barks tacked onto the end.

(Regarding the African and South Seas natives: This could be a good gift for children, but you might want to explain how times have changed and discuss the stereotypes of yesteryear, even if Barks is nowhere near the level of Coal Black and de Sebben Dwarfs.)

The little 10-page stories veer more towards the comedy end of the spectrum, and several of them feature Donald as the hot-tempered impetuous duck we know from the screen, as opposed to the likeable adventurer we’d grown used to before. Even here, though, Donald can surprise us. One of my favorites was a rewrite of the animated short Truant Officer Donald, where Donald’s nephews try to skip school, but find the new truant officer manages to be a match for them. I also enjoyed a story where Donald is plagued by recurring nightmares, and his nephews try to help cure him. This is a classic ‘things snowball out of control’ plot where the absurdity of the ongoing situations makes everything funnier. And for those who want good old classic Disney plots of Donald outsmarting himself or infuriating himself, there’s stories where he gets onto a quiz show and tries to raise a sunken boat on the cheap that should be right up your alley. Lastly, the one-page gag stories are just that – funny. You really don’t ask for anything else when the story’s a page and stars Donald Duck.

I can’t judge the look of the comics against previous editions, but I don’t really have any issues – everything looks clear and sharp. I have heard that Race to the South Seas was mastered from original art for the first time in decades, so I imagine those on the fence might be interested in that. The book also has a big introduction giving a history of Carl Barks, and short essays at the back on each of the ‘main’ stories, i.e. the adventures and the 10 page comedy shorts. These essays vary wildly, with the best providing useful information and context, and the worst sounding like they were lifted straight from the densest section of the Comics Journal’s prose. Which, given this is a Fantagraphics release, shouldn’t be too surprising. :)

I picked this up thinking it’d be a good chance to see if I liked Carl Barks and what the fuss was all about. Well, now I get it – and I’m hooked. The second volume, out in May, apparently will focus on the years 1952-1953, and be more of an Uncle Scrooge edition. Which is fine, he needs to win me over after his horrible behavior here. But overall, this is well worth the purchase for any fan of classic comics.

By Naoko Takeuchi. Released in Japan as “Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon” by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Nakayoshi. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics.

(There are spoilers for this volume in the review, please be aware.)

The first thing I noticed about the new volume of Sailor Moon, which contains half of the original Vol. 2 and half of 3, was how nicely it bookended itself. The volume opens with a dazed Usagi, waking up in Mamoru’s apartment, stunned to find out that he’s really Tuxedo Mask. And some two hundred and forty pages later, we end with the menacing cliffhanger of Usagi staring stunned at the same Mamoru, eyes now dark and with a menacing sneer on his face. Both of these things were highly predictable, but Takeuchi has a way of taking the most cliched plots and making them fascinating anyway.

Of course, in between those two set pieces, there’s a lot of stuff going on. First off, we get the arrival of our fifth Senshi. Takeuchi was not relying on her readers having read Code Name: Sailor V, so Minako gets introduced as if we’re meeting her for the first time. Which is a good thing, as Sailor V readers must have been confused by this serious, no-nonsense girl they thought they knew as a hyperactive ditz. (Remember, Sailor V was still less than halfway done at this point – the serious backstory for Minako was done retroactively after Sailor Moon ended.) In this case, I think Takeuchi realizes that the story is at a point where she needs Minako to be the experienced leader, rather than the genki flake. (That will come later, though never as much as the anime.)

So Minako is here to be the Senshi with long experience in fighting evil. The setup with her pretending to be the Princess is actually very well-thought out and sensible (I smell Artemis’s hand behind it), and even once the Princess’s true identity is revealed, note that it’s Venus who gets to be King Arthur and pull the huge sword out of the stone. (This does lead to the one ‘Mina-chan’ moment of the manga, where she drops the sword in the middle of Ami’s swank apartment complex lobby.) Unfortunately, this is a plot rather than character based manga series at this point, so Ami, Rei and Makoto get far less to do this time around except exposit. Though Makoto does manage to get briefly controlled by the enemy – it’s far more realistically done than Mamoru, and thus more disturbing.

There’s also a lot of destiny in this volume, most of it involving Usagi. A lot of this volume and the next is concerned with the past repeating itself – both the Senshi and the villains are worried about that, for different reasons – and how much fate controls our lives. There’s definitely a Romeo and Juliet vibe to the past life of Serenity and Endymion, though it’s unclear why their love is forbidden except that they come from different worlds. (Also, note Endymion being the leader of Earth – which helps explain why there is no Sailor Earth in this series, only in 70,000 fanfics on the Internet.) Seeing Endymion killed by the forces of evil is not particularly surprising, but seeing Princess Serenity stab herself with a giant broadsword IS. Takeuchi has never been shy about showing us blood and horror (witness Usagi’s dream of Mamoru’s melting skull, and Luna later on getting thrown so hard against a wall she almost bleeds to death). You can see why folks would like to fight Destiny repeating itself.

There’s also a lot here about the corrupting power of evil, something we’ll see time and time again in this series. Metallia is shown as a gray amorphous blob of pure nasty, and almost all the villains taking human form are shown to be possessed or controlled in some way, be it Beryl (who went on an archaeological search for Metallia’s seal, so was admittedly asking for it) to the four male Generals (who, like our heroes, appeared to have been reborn on Earth, but sadly were abducted and turned before they really knew what was going on.) Kunzite almost manages to throw off the spell for a bit – it’s clear that he’s dedicated to Mamoru over Beryl, at least till she pours the evil back into him – but for the most part it’s meant as tragedy, showing us the power and ambition that evil can command. (Note Beryl’s desire to take power for herself – and overthrow Metallia. Villains who turn against their masters is another thing you’ll see a lot of in this series, even if it doesn’t amount to much here.)

Kodansha’s presentation is pretty good. I noticed a typo or two, but for the most part the translation is very smooth. It’s not adapted as much as Tokyopop’s was, which works in some ways and not in others, but that is the nature of such things. Usako and Mamo-chan are both used here, with an endnote showing how they derived from the original names. This translation also keeps Takeuchi’s habit of having Usagi’s name represented by a bunny drawing – which can take some getting used to, I will admit. I wish the extras in the back had been translated – yes, they’re in teeny weeny script, and translating writer scrawl is always hard, but still. I also heard there are 4 ‘mini-comics’ that were left out of this edition. I checked to see what they were, and they all seem to be variations on Takeuchi saying ‘oh my god my old art is so bad’ and ‘deadlines are HAAAAARD’ and the like. So they would have been nice to see, but are not remotely essential.

Honestly, by the end of this volume I was feeling wrung out. There’s so much drama and emotion going on, in such a small amount of pages – remember, the anime took around 36-37 episodes to get to this point in the manga. Volume 3 will see the wrap-up of the first arc, and it should be a doozy. Let’s hope that destiny can be fought – well, except the destiny of true love conquering all, of course. That can stay.

By Nagaru Tanigawa and Puyo. Released in Japan as “Suzumiya Haruhi-chan no Yuutsu” by Kadokawa Shoten, serialization ongoing in the magazine Shonen Ace. Released in North America by Yen Press.

Yes, it still has a narrow audience. Yes, many of its punchlines are Osaka-style, i.e. someone says something dumb and the straight man shouts “Are you kidding?”. And yes, it’s still cutesy-wootsy and superdeformed a good deal of the time (though honestly, less so than in prior volumes). And yet I still love this series as it honestly makes me laugh a lot.

I’ll see if I can divide this review of Vol. 4 into 3 parts: the silly, the fanservicey, and the character development (which remains surprisingly large for a gag manga based on something else). For those looking for pure silly comedy, the manga has you covered. Asakura and Kimidori-san solve a murder in their own adorable way; Haruhi invents what must be the world’s only game of Extreme Othello, combining it with badminton to lethal effect; and best of all, Koizumi attempts to train the others to prepare for Haruhi during April Fools’ Day by having Mori dress up as Haruhi and say things she would normally say… which in the end appears just to be an excuse to humiliate and embarrass Mori. But in the most adorable way!

The fanservice chapters are not ashamed to be completely pandering, either. There’s nothing explicit – this is a manga that anyone could read, really – but the blatant school tag game with all the girls in swimsuits even lampshades it by having the male characters doing their own, unseen tag game elsewhere, while we ogle Haruhi, Mikuru and company in swimsuits. And at the end, Haruhi tries to come up with an exercise routine that gets far too sexy far too fast, going so far that even she ramps herself back after revealing a bit too much of her internal monologue out loud. Naturally, these fanservice shots are NOT superdeformed, as the whole point is to look at the fine female form.

Then there’s the Kyon and Haruhi relationship, which is very well handled in the two chapters it gets a focus. On one, Koizumi has rigged a contest so that he gets to pick what the losers do, and gets Yuki to rig it further so that Kyon and Haruhi are the losers. You can see where this is going; he forces them on a date, complete with his own pre-written script. The fun here is seeing Kyon and Haruhi’s punch-drunk reactions at having to say all this cornball romantic dialogue, and seeing the occasional glimpse of their real feelings almost derail things “Don’t go off the script, jerk!” is positively ADORABLE here, especially with the huge blush. Sadly, there’s one line they won’t cross, even if it’s for a bet. On a fluffier note, we get a rewrite of Live Alive where Kyon and Haruhi, both bored, decide to wanter the culture festival together – but they are not a couple.

Lastly, I was highly amused by the chapter where Nagato got her roommates drunk on amazake (aliens have no alcohol tolerance) and we discover the amazing effects that a hangover can have on Asakura. It is incredibly strange seeing her like that, and I have to wonder if it might have been a shout-out to the author’s other Haruhi spinoff, The Disappearance of Nagato Yuki. Best line of the volume comes here (trying not to spoil), from Yuki: “This must be what a parent feels like when their child surpasses them… the bittersweet sadness of parenthood…”

Only buy this if you like Haruhi. But if you do, it’s a hoot. And miles better than the ‘official’ manga is.

By Mayu Shinjo. Released in Japan as “Ai wo Utau Yori Ore ni Oborero!” by Shogakukan, serialized in the magazine Shoujo Comic (“Sho-Comi”). Released in North America by Viz.

This is a turning point for Ai Ore! in many ways. It’s the last volume published before the move from Shogakukan to Kadokawa Shoten, which is why it reads very much like it’s ending. It marks a point where the series stops trying to be a satire or parody of these sorts of mangas and simply becomes another example of them, albeit a funny one. And it also has Akira develop to the point where, though I still have a few reservations, I can now admit without irony that I am enjoying this title.

For one thing, this volume doesn’t even pretend to be about Mizuki anymore. Akira is the star here, and most of what we see are his attempts to deal at being in love with Mizuki. He wants to win her affection and love, his hormones are raging at him to seduce her as soon as possible, and he’s getting bad advice all round from many of his friends – some of which, in fact, we’ve seen him use before in earlier chapters. Akira is trying to find a balance between ‘women like a strong, sexy guy who can take command’ and ‘I know what’s best for her because I am an asshole’, and it’s not as hard a line to cross as he would like.

This makes him stand out from other typical Shogakukan male heroes, even more than the cutesy pretty girl looks he’s stuck with. An excellent example is a chapter where a rival shows up – Tsubasa, another pretty boy who looks like a girl that Mizuki met and accidentally enthralled a couple of years earlier. He challenges Akira to a competition, with Mizuki being the winner. Akira, of course, accepts, and is very curt to Mizuki – “just sit back and wait for me to come claim you”, he notes, and you want to smack him all over again. The contest itself, though, which shows him basically letting his lecherous classmates practically rape him just so that he can get their vote – shows that power is not really what drives him at all. And a good thing too, as he’s so bad at using it.

The end of that chapter has Ran, the slightly more sensible of Akira’s two playboy friends, asking him “Have you given any thought to how Mizuki feels about this?” Well, no, he hadn’t. It’s only partly his fault – Mizuki is still the weak link in this story, though she’s not as bad as she has been. We don’t worry as much about her doubting her femininity or trying to act girly… but we also empathize with Akira, as her waffling really is driving the reader crazy now as well. Mizuki here, I believe, finally at least understands what love is, and that she’s madly in love with Akira. I just wish the couple had better communication. But then I say that about most manga couples.

In the last chapter, everything comes together. Mizuki says that she loves Akira, Akira realizes that this wasn’t something that he could have forced, no matter how he tried, and the two have now been intimate. As I said, it READS like an ending – readers of Shoujo Comic would be satisfied with the way it wrapped up here. Of course, if they also purchased Kadokawa Shoten’s Asuka, they would see the series continue – and so will we, with Vol. 4. Which will also see it return to standard 200-page format, I believe. In any case, finally recommended with few reservations.

Also, great title drop right at the end there, for folks who wondered what Ai wo Utau Yori Ore ni Oborero meant.

By Natsume Ono. Released in Japan by Shogakukan, serialized in the magazine Ikki and in various doujinshi. Released in North America by Viz.

It’s time for another Manga Movable Feast, this one timed for the release of Tesoro, a collection of short stories by Natsume Ono. It’s a good collection to discuss, as I think it contains most of her strengths and weaknesses in one convenient package. Plus it has a bear on the cover. Everything’s better with bears.

The strengths of the book are mostly all at the front, as she’s put her later work first. This is good, as by 2003-2006 (the period we see here), she’s already developed and honed her style and type of dialogue. There’s some Italian stuff here, as you’d expect (it’s almost inevitable by this point, Ono simply loves Italy – and no doubt finds the constant conversation she does easier to justify with Italian men). But there’s some excellent stuff that takes place in Japan as well, including what is probably my favorite of the collection, a story about a couple who are both very thin, and tend to have gossip floating around them. “Quiet stubbornness” is possibly the most defining trait of Ono’s men, and it’s in full flower here.

The other story that really captures the attention here is Eva’s Memory, about an orphan girl with a tendency to call various men her father and how that gets a man running for election into a bit of controversy. It’s told through the point of view of her friend, who has just the right amount of exasperation and sympathy. Which is good, as Eva also rides the line here between liking her and wanting to smack her. It’s a good thing that the politician in question is so nice… and there’s also a question of who her real parents actually are, something our hero finds out as he tries to help Eva and also regain his sense of optimism about anything good in the world.

The second half of the book contains doujinshi that were written in the late nineties and early 2000s, and it shows – they’re far messier, and not just in the art. There’s a story about a young man getting out of a 5-year prison stint (he killed someone while drunk driving) that cries out to be rewritten now that she’s at the height of her powers, but instead comes across as… well, here’s the thing. When Ono is on, you can read 800 pages of her characters sitting in one room talking and you don’t care a lick. When she isn’t, it’s all just so much verbosity that you want to scream at people to “get on with it!”. Likewise, her characters ride a fine line, as I noted above in the Eva story. In a later story involving a girl named Monica and her bad luck with men, she came across as the villain to me, so I never got into the story.

Tesoro is therefore an excellent sampler of Ono’s work, but not something that should be a beginning for anyone who wants to try her. They’re better off with Ristorante Paradiso, in my opinion. For the seasoned Ono fan, however, there’s several gems in here. And even the sketchy ones have something to pick out – the story involving the chef who wants to see a movie is almost incoherent at times, but the punchline is fantastic. (And yes, he’s right – it *is* OK if it’s The Sting).

By Kaneyoshi Izumi. Released in Japan as “Men’s Kou” by Shogakukan, serialized in the magazine Bessatsu Comic (“Betsucomi”). Released in North America by Viz.

I’d put off reviewing this final volume for a while. I’m a romantic sop at heart, and it has to be said that much of what we see here is bittersweet. But then Seiho hasn’t really been about the happy warm fuzzy moments of relationships in any case. This is realistic, and that’s not always pretty.

First off, Nogami and his nurse girlfriend don’t even get a mention. I guess we should assume they live happily ever… nah, I can’t. Presumably at some point Nogami says something colossally stupid and they break up. That leaves our two main couples, who have struggled with a) communication and b) how others see them since the start of this series, and it’s no different here. Miyabi has split up with Kamiki as she feels that she’s not cool enough to be seen beside him as his boyfriend. She also thinks of herself as stupid, which is questionable given how she shows easy flashes of understanding others in here. Kamiki is stubborn and understanding, though, and things eventually work out. Mostly, as it’s noted how fragile their relationship is.

Maki and Erika is another story. Having spent their entire time together talking around each other, it’s unsurprising to see their neither really knows how to read the other and see what the other one is thinking. And due to circumstances, Erika is leaving soon anyway. A lot of things come together here. The fact that they know little about each other; Maki jumping to conclusions; Erika having figured out that Maki is still in love with someone else (but not who it is)… and so they break up. (And the moment where Erika finds out about the other Erika, which I’d been waiting for for about 6 volumes, is actually very understated and quiet.) It’s very bittersweet, and though Maki indicates that he will definitely ask her out if he ever meets her again, it’s melancholy as well.

Still, the boys all move up to being third years, and Maki gets stuck with the RA job (which he’s perfect for, admittedly). All seems well. This means, like the first volume in this series, we have to end with a sleazy shoujo smut story complet4ely unrelated to Seiho itself. Reverse Guilt is about a former ‘princess’ whose grades weren’t good enough for an elite school and so is now shunned. She tries to hide from life, but has trouble with this as the hottest, jerkiest guy in school is in love with her. He used to be a poor, abused child. He isn’t anymore. More communication misunderstandings here, but this time it makes you yearn for the relative niceness of the Seiho cast. Even Nogami wouldn’t be quite as bad as the guy is in this short. There’s also some explicit sexual situations here, for those who note this is still rated OT.

Overall, despite that, the main series was a great pickup for Viz. I know it didn’t sell quite as well as their other licenses of this period, but then it’s not big or flashy. It’s a series about a bunch of goofy guys who remind us of ourselves, and their ephemeral high school years. Definitely a keeper.

Hey, Takano never found out that Maki’s old girlfriend had the same name! Grr…

I suspect that Kai Asou might have been indulging in little irony when she titled Only Serious About You (Digital Manga Publishing), as her storytelling is extremely conscientious. She fleshes out every beat of the story, which makes it a little slow to start, but it proves to be a very rewarding strategy as the plot moves along.

Oosawa is a single father who works as a cook at a pub. He juggles his demanding job with the needs of his young daughter, Chizu. Yoshioka is a regular customer, a gay guy with a string of exes who can’t quite seem to entirely let go or fully commit. Oosawa finds Yoshioka’s romantic life baffling and his flirting irksome, but Yoshioka steps up when Chizu gets sick. He takes father and daughter into his home, and the visit is prolonged when Oosawa comes down with a fever himself.

There’s a degree of implausibility to the set-up, and I’ve never quite understood the dire import the Japanese seem to place on the common cold. Still, it forces Oosawa and Yoshioka into close proximity, and it allows Asou to explore Yoshioka’s true nature, which is much more generous and sensitive than his behavior in the pub suggested.

There’s also the pesky “suddenly possibly gay” gambit that crops up a lot in this category, but Asou’s meticulous approach helps smooth this over. This volume is much more about Oosawa getting to know Yoshioka as a person than it is about an instantaneous, inexplicable attraction. Both guys are fairly guarded for different reasons, and it’s very sweet to see Oosawa start to want to figure out what makes Yoshioka tick, then build on his understanding of his surprisingly dependable and compassionate new friend.

Readers might also wonder why Asou would place so much trust in a stranger, especially when it comes to the care of his daughter, but Asou makes that fairly easy to set aside. Oosawa is a very dedicated father, and the rendering of the challenges faced by a single parent feels very authentic. Low key as the story generally is, there’s a real sharpness to Asou’s portrayal of how one small thing can throw Oosawa’s life out of whack. It allows the reader to share in both his anxiety when things go wrong and his relief when thing work out.

The art is generically attractive. Asou clearly favors the lanky body type, but it’s easy to distinguish one character from another. (This isn’t always true, not just in yaoi but in just about any type of manga that features a large, primarily male cast.) She does a nice job with body language and day-to-day activities that help ground the work. There are also some funny little visual grace notes that any mangaka should have in her or his toolkit.

Asou gets little moments so right. In the beginning, this feels too scrupulous and mundane. As things progress, and as readers get to know the characters better, these articulated bits of life gain more weight. By the halfway point, I found myself smiling in recognition or indulging in a little wistfulness at how things were progressing. It’s quite a lovely experience – not particularly urgent and certainly not stylized, but definitely immersive in a very gentle way. I’m really looking forward to seeing how things turn out for these characters.

By Kou Yaginuma. Released in Japan as “Futatsu no Spica” by Media Factory, serialized in the magazine Comic Flapper. Released in North America by Vertical.

Foreshadowing can be a dangerous thing, especially when we want to be wrong. In amongst all of the love of space and hope for the future and plucky youngsters banding together, Twin Spica has taken us to some very uncomfortable places. And this volume makes us realize that they aren’t going away, and that our gang of five is not going to be together forever like many a manga series before it. Real life is intervening.

It’s especially ironic given that we also deal in this volume with the sheer stubborn determination to never give up that several of the lead characters have. Marika’s poor self-image and distrust of her own feelings and memories wars with her determination to go past that and see what she can achieve as her own person. Fuchuya continuing to persevere despite the fact that it still appears that he only is doing this so that he can be near Asumi. And of course Asumi herself, who may be incredibly tiny but still has the endurance of most grown men, and is running herself half to death even on her days off.

The middle of this volume shows the five kids relaxing once again in Asumi’s hometown for a vacation. It’s mentioned several times that they should try to do this every year – in fact, it starts to be a little ominous. And once Marika reveals her secret to the others, we begin to suspect that this story is going to end, if it does pick one, with only Asumi actually making it out into space. I don’t know any spoilers, but the basic theme of “keep on trying even if you lose your dream” seems to speak to that. Powerful words, but they can be hard to live up to.

In addition to Fuchuya’s crush, hidden to Asumi but obvious to everyone else, there’s also Kei and Shu. Her crush is even less hidden, and it’s possible that Shu does know about it, but he’s so inscrutable that it’s hard to get a handle on him. Their scene together at the festival is really sweet and heartwarming, giving you a brief look at typical awkward high school romance in a series that in generally not about that.

And then we get that ending, which I will attempt not to spoil. Again, I note Twin Spica’s ability to be both uplifting and soul crushing at the same time. The majority of this volume has tended towards the former, so we were probably due. Of course, it’s mostly a cliffhanger here, and I’m sure we will deal with the fallout in volume 11. But I admire the author’s ability to convey on the page what’s going on – that feeling where your heart stops, your head is buzzing and dizzy, and you want to deny everything that’s being told to you. This is where the silence of the printed page works best.

Due to Vertical’s condensing of the series into 12 volumes, we’re only 2 away from the end. (I believe that this volume was half of 11 and all of 12 in Japan). I’ll miss it. Asumi is a heroine you really want to root for, and I’m really curious as to how realistic this series will get. Will one of the group – OK, will Asumi if we’re honest – he able to get past all the roadblocks and make it into space? Or will this be like all those sports mangas that show the team all coming together but losing in the semifinals? And will I be able to read the start of Volume 11 without curling into a tiny little ball?

It makes me a little wistful to think that Tesoro is probably the last work by Natsume Ono that Viz will debut, at least for a while. Viz was responsible for introducing English-language readers to Ono’s work, at least in licensed form, and they’ve provided a steady supply since not simple arrived at the beginning of 2010. There’s more House of Five Leaves to come, which is reassuring, but Viz has pretty much run through her catalog of works that ran in Shogakukan’s IKKI or Ohta Shuppan’s Manga Erotics F.

She’s got a number of titles in progress, mostly for Kodansha’s Morning magazines, but Viz has almost never published a Kodansha title. Kodansha itself seems to be reluctant to publish its own seinen works, so the best hope of Ono fans would probably be Vertical. As for the yaoi titles she created under the name BASSO, I have no idea who might publish those, though perhaps Viz’s new boys’-love line might be a possible home.

I can see why Viz saved Tesoro for last. It’s charming, but it benefits from having a larger view of Ono’s body of work. It contains some of her earlier short works for magazines like IKKI and some self-published stories, and I can see it gaining a non-manga audience. It’s very much in an indie-comics vein, especially if we’re talking about recent indie comics where the creators seem to feel freer to indulge in some genial whimsy.

Readers who are familiar with the rather leisurely pace Ono adopts for her longer works might wonder how she manages a smaller number of pages. (Ono herself expresses skepticism about her abilities in this vein, though mangaka rarely sound confident in their author notes.) Given her facility for small, finely articulated moments, she proves to be a natural at short stories. There’s a lot of charming material in Tesoro, and while the tone tends to be genial, there’s a surprising amount of variety on display.

My favorite entry is “Senza titolo 1,” which dips into Ono’s beloved well of grumpy older Italian men. A sophisticated lady helps a doctor friend make his way home on a night when he’s had too much to drink. She learns the source of his distress, and, while he’s helped her in his capacity as a psychologist, she discovers that they share some of the same anxieties. It’s lovely and sad, and it’s probably the most sleekly drawn piece in the collection.

Other charmers here include the third of “Three Short Stories About Bento,” which is spare in its details but very emotionally potent in an understated way. It focuses clearly and compassionately on a parent-child relationship, which is also familiar Ono territory, and she revisits that ground a few times in this collection. In the “Froom family” shorts, she introduces a father who tries to carve out special time for his son that will give the kid a break from his bossy older sisters. I liked the quirky, chatty “Padre” strips about a baker with three demanding children better than “Senza titolo #6,” where we see the kids as somewhat dysfunctional adults.

Speaking of dysfunctional adults, or at least near-adults, the contingent that found not simple a bit too much will probably see its seeds in “Eva’s Memory.” I personally loved not simple, but I can look at “Eva’s Memory” and see justification for the accusations of contrivance and maudlin melodrama. “Senza titolo #5” is flawed in some of the same ways, but it’s on the sweeter side, so it’s easier to take.

On the whole, it’s a wonderful sampler of a lot of Ono’s core sensibilities. There are many characters here who have reason to be sad or discontent trying to focus on their pleasures and blessings. There’s a lot of eating and aimless chatter. And there are a lot of nicely observed moments, especially among messy, loving families. If you like Ono, Tesoro is essential, and if you’re unfamiliar with her work, it’s a good, gentle introduction that gives you a sense of her range.

By Reiko Yoshida and Mia Ikumi. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Nakayoshi. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics.

I have to admit that I was looking forward to this one. When Kodansha announced the Love Hina omnibus, they mentioned this as well. I hadn’t read it the first time around, but I recall fans talking about it quite a bit. Cute heroines, magical girl battles, etc. They also seemed to get annoyed when folks compared it to Sailor Moon. So I wanted to see what it was like.

Well, it was all a bit underwhelming, wasn’t it? I admit that my brain is somewhat influenced by the many magical girl series that are already out there, but I didn’t really see much in Mew Mew that made it stand out above the pack. The heroine is cheerfully cute but clumsy, in love with a cute normal guy, and can turn into a catgirl superhero after a magical experiment gone awry. She is met by the two cute bishie guys responsible for this accident (including one who teases her constantly, and whom I suspect may be a love interest or rival later), and she must find her four other teammates, because groups of 5 magical girls as a team is nothing like Sailor Moon at all. (Or indeed every other sentai series, as Sailor Moon is, to a degree, the magical girl as sentai motif.)

As for the team itself, we find the rich girl/snooty one, the shy and meek one, the airheaded athletic one (who seems to be on the lookout for ways to make money, which makes sense as she is Chinese and Japan does love its stereotypes just as North America does), and the cool aloof loner who will no doubt be breaking down in tears before the end of the series. And they too transform into magical girls that are based around endangered species. Together, they are told, they must battle aliens who are bent on destroying our world by polluting its natural resources.

The environmental angle, I admit, is somewhat interesting. It’s a bit overly earnest, but then, we’re reading a Nakayoshi title, not Evening. The alien plot is not entirely clear now beyond the fact that they have a snarky and rude underling, but I did find it amusing that one of the alien’s first targets is a cherry blossom park. Heathens! They cannot dare to ruin the majesty of the cherry blossom festival! The authors know how to push the right emotional buttons.

There’s also Aoyama, the guy Ichigo is in love with, who actually manages (so far) to be fairly nice and not overly rude to our heroine. (One of Ichigo’s allies fulfills that role, though he’s more on the teasing end of the spectrum. It helps that other characters get to be clumsier than she is.) Yes, you get the sense that he’s hiding something important, but hey, welcome to magical girl manga. I’m not sure if he’ll end up with Ichigo, but I am pretty sure he’ll tie into the plot somehow.

Overall, though, while the manga didn’t do much that was annoying or irritating, this ended up being a standard magical girl zap the monsters and save the world plot. Most series like this are slow burners, and I’ve no doubt it will pick up, but there’s only 7 volumes, so I was hoping for a bit more oomph here. Pleasant, but not exceptional.

The thing that frequently strikes me about Osamu Tezuka’s comics is how fresh they feel, no matter when they were created. I suspect this is because, while he was as solid and conscientious an entertainer as has probably ever worked in the medium, he was also always pushing to bring new ideas to manga and to infuse new levels of ambition into comics. This isn’t always true, and there are some Tezuka works that feel locked in the time of their birth (Swallowing the Earth, Ayako), but it happens with a frequency that just about any creator of any kind of entertainment would envy.

Princess Knight (Vertical) exhibits that lively timelessness that I associate with Tezuka at his best. I have no idea if he sat down one day and decided that he wanted to take comics for girls in an entirely new direction or if it just happened because he wanted to take all comics in entirely new directions, but the comic exudes that feeling of opportunity and transformation.

It’s hard not to think of the princesses of Walt Disney’s motion pictures, mostly because Tezuka references them so often. Disney was an influence and inspiration to Tezuka, but Tezuka didn’t seem content to merely mimic Disney. Princess Knight seems like the best example of that. While Disney’s princesses were titular, they were never the heroine of their own story, at least with Disney at the rudder. Tezuka’s Sapphire may be pulling plot points out of a Disney grab bag, but she’s nothing like her American sisters.

Before Sapphire is born, a mischievous angel named Tink gives her the heart of a boy shortly before she receives her assigned girl’s heart. Beyond the supernatural complications, her earthly parents are hoping for a son, or rule of the kingdom will pass to a craven moron. The king and queen love their daughter, but archaic tradition forces them to raise her as a boy. Sapphire’s extra heart makes this easier than it might have been otherwise.

She’s great with a sword, and she stands up for what’s right. She’s smart, tough, and good-hearted, though she keenly feels the call of her feminine side. She falls for the prince of a neighboring kingdom, but she can never act on those feelings. And she’s constantly wary of her unscrupulous, ambitious uncle, who would love to expose her and open up the throne for his idiot son.

Things go from difficult to impossible when her charade is exposed. Loss piles upon loss and peril upon peril, and she’s imprisoned and exiled. Fortunately, adversity brings out the best in her, and she takes steps to reclaim her kingdom, not because of any air of entitlement but because it’s right and the best thing for her people. She’s not passive and she doesn’t want a prince to save her; you can’t come close to saying that about any of her Disney princess contemporaries.

That’s not to say her adventures don’t draw on familiar princess tropes. Like Cinderella, she gets to don glamorous disguise to connect with her handsome prince. Like Snow White, she’s targeted by an evil and ambitious witch. Like Ariel, she loses her ability to communicate. Beyond that, there are pirates and assassins, scheming courtiers and incompetent angels, magic and monsters. Sapphire faces more difficulties than the entire coterie of Disney princesses combined, which makes for an insanely lively narrative flow.

Of course, another fascinating aspect of Tezuka’s work was the way his well-intentioned thinking regarding women’s roles was betrayed by execution that wasn’t quite as involved. Sapphire’s agency is entirely connected to her boy’s heart. In moments when she loses that heart, she becomes as passive a victim as Snow White and Sleeping Beauty ever were. And it’s not entirely clear what Tezuka is trying to say in those moments. Is it just another form of peril to keep things moving, or did Tezuka wholeheartedly own those gender roles, even if he regretted them? It also makes me wonder about likely outcomes in the next volume – will a happy ending for Sapphire constitute a satisfying conclusion for me as a reader?

Jarring as those considerations are, they do give the reader an extra layer to ponder. You don’t really need to think about Princess Knight in the context of its time too often, since Tezuka the entertainer is in such fine form here. But the chance to consider Tezuka the figure of his era, no matter how progressive he may have been in relative terms, is always intriguing to me. It’s kind of like how you can ride along with the madly entertaining antics in Dororo (Vertical) only to be occasionally slapped with how genuinely bleak Tezuka’s world view must have been.

Speaking of aspects that could date the work, I have to take issue with the packaging here. Vertical has an admirable history of crafting vibrant covers for classic titles, so why does Princess Knight look like a paperback textbook from the 1970s? The washed-out palette and the minimalist cover design aren’t up to Vertical’s usual standard, and the design does nothing to communicate the excitement contained within. Vintage manga is always a tough sell, so why make the book look so blah? It wouldn’t look out of place in a book stack at a suburban garage sale.

That sounds harsh, but I’ve got a protective bent for this book. I’ve wanted someone to republish it in English for ages, and I think I imagined it being perfect. And it is almost perfect – wonderful characters, a terrific story, and Tezuka’s wonderful illustrative style, packed with action and humor and feeling. Vertical has done a marvelous job making a range of Tezuka’s work available in English, though it generally falls in his seinen vein. That’s great and entirely welcome, but I feel like it’s equally important to showcase Tezuka’s work as an entertainer for a wider, younger audience. Because even those pieces feel fresh and ambitious, just like Princess Knight.

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

As we head into the second volume of our survival story, we’re starting to see a few more familiar trappings. The airplane homebase is rendered uninhabitable, they try making a raft, and we get a lot more survivors, some of whom are likeable and some of whom aren’t. We also get to see our hero Akira develop increasing leadership qualities, and Kanako start to prove she is more than just a walking fanservice poster. Things aren’t getting more original, but they’re staying interesting.

As you would expect when you get a bunch of emotional Japanese teenagers and toss them into the middle of an island with prehistoric monsters on it, not everyone is handling it the same way. Akira and company are trying to band together and be a team. One guy with a Jason mask names himself Hades and seems to go off the deep end at the earliest opportunity. Akira’s friend Arita is seemingly doing the same thing, but is in reality barely holding it together because of guilt over a previous impulsive action. And then there’s Yarai, who seems to be leading a third group simply by virtue of being so badass people instinctively want to follow him.

The action here is well-done and exciting. The animals are suitably dangerous, while remaining just realistic enough that our heroes managing to defeat them only feels a little ludicrous. The power politics also feels realistic, though I could do without everyone lampshading how Akira is becoming a great leader. We already see it, no need to hammer it home. Likewise, while the deaths of two classmates was done well, and was suitably gruesome, I think a true test of the series will be to see what happens when likeable people start getting killed.

And then there’s the fanservice. Look, I can take a lot of fanservice with no qualms. I read Negima, after all. But I honestly would not blame anyone who wants to drop the series here, because man, the sheer obsession with panty shots and breasts is over the top even for a Shonen Magazine manga. I realize that this is a magazine for young teens, and they are pubertylicious. Still, after a while I was flicking through them faster, trying to get past it. “Yes, the two girls fall on top of each other. Yes, squoosh. OK, let’s watch them climb down a ladder from the bottom. I GET IT, they’re sexy!” It can be very taxing.

I will admit that the cliffhanger makes me quite eager to see what happens next. I’m fairly certain that Akira and Yarai will disagree, but seeing the groups lock horns should be fun. And we still really have no idea why this island is filled with long-dead creatures. Is it a plot point, or is this just an excuse for carnage? Oh, and no doubt we will meet more female characters, and their breasts as well. Cage of Eden remains good candy, even if you sometimes feel a bit sick after eating too much of it.