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Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Reviews

Flower of Life, Vol. 1

August 18, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

By Fumi Yoshinaga. Released in Japan by Shinshokan, serialized in the magazine Wings. Released in North America by Digital Manga Publishing.

This has been on my to-read list for some time. I found a copy at World’s Biggest Bookstore in Toronto this May and picked it up, mostly as it’s quite hard to find these days. I had both this title and Antique Bakery in the back of my head, as they had been the subject of a debate regarding the casual use of the word ‘yaoi’ in fandom to refer to anything with the suggestion of gay men in it, even titles that did not necessarily have any romance or sex in them. So I had a certain set of expectations about the content going in. I wasn’t too worried about the quality – this is a Yoshinaga manga, I knew it would be enjoyable.

after the first few pages, which deal with a new pretty boy transfer student running into his flamboyantly swishy teacher, I remained unsurprised. After all, this is a series that ran in Wings, a magazine that seems to specialize in the very debate I mentioned earlier. It rarely has explicit BL, but its shoujo fantasy content skirts the edges a lot. Wings is not a magazine for your typical hot-blooded heterosexual Love Hina reader. So I sat back and enjoyed the otherwise amusing slice-of-life school comedy. This is why the payoff of the teacher’s real gender was possibly my favorite moment of the series. I love a good fakeout, and Yoshinaga handles it perfectly.

The characters in the series are, in fact, the main reason to get it. This is a lot of fun. It doesn’t have much of an actual plot, to be sure. Essentially it’s about Harutaro, a young man returning to school after a long battle with leukemia, and his trying to fit in among a close-knit class of eccentrics. He seemingly does very well, but much of the series examines how people treat others when they know what’s expected of them, and Harutaro finds that everything doesn’t quite go as easily as it would in your typical shoujo manga.

Harutaro bonds immediately with the boy sitting next to him, Shota. Shota’s another example of Yoshinaga writing a seemingly ‘typical’ school comedy, but adding her own eccentricities. He’s not your typical pretty boy, being short and rather portly – several characters call him cute/adorable, and one of the chapters deals with the other classmates casually calling him fat, and how upset that gets Harutaro. If there’s any hitn of BL in the series, it would be here, and clearly it can be read as such, but doesn’t have to be – it’s the perfect Wings-style plausible deniability. These two read just as well if they’re merely a budding friendship.

And then there’s Majima, who was the character in the end I think I found the most fascinating. It’s entirely possible that in later volumes he will open up to someone and show a hidden, vulnerable side, but I hope not, because my god, he’s such an amazingly appalling asshole. And he’s so good at it! He hits all those buttons that would make anyone back away – he’s a giant otaku who unashamedly reads artbooks in the middle of class, and will talk your ear off about it with no thought to whether you care. He’s brusque and rude when you try to interject your own problems and issues. And he gets angry at slights, even when the intent is clearly to apologize to him. He’s a horrible person, and I love that the two leads try to deal with him ANYWAY. His presence enriches the book.

There’s a lot of discussion of manga here, and it gets fairly metatextual. Harutaro has a definite talent for art – he was holed up in his recovery room with only manga and drawing paper, so is mostly self-taught – and once the class finds out about it, they’re quick to ask him to create something for them. This is also a great scene in the book, as everyone asks for their own fetishes, and Harutaro is quick to reject any that offend his sensibilities (incest, intergenerational yaoi), while still showing he’s a pervy guy at heart (yuri is OK). Later volumes apparently take the drawing aspect of this further, which is good to hear.

Also, his parents are chicken sexers. Words can’t describe how awesome that is.

There’s a lot of Yoshinaga out there, ranging from the more explicit yaoi titles that DMP has released to the currently running alternate universe political drama Ooku. But if you’re new to Yoshinaga, and have access to a copy, the first volume of Flower of Life is a good place to start. It has fun characters, a relaxed pace, and lots of humor. It proved to be quite refreshing.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Higurashi: When They Cry, Vols. 13-14

August 17, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

Story by Ryukishi07; Art by Yutori Houjyou. Released in Japan as “Higurashi no Naku Koro ni: Meakashi-hen” by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Gangan Wing. Released in North America by Yen Press.

Sorry for the numbering confusion. Initial solicits from Yen noted that the omnibus ‘Demon Exposing Arc’ was Volume 13, but I went with that. But they’ve apparently now decided that it’s a special one-off, and 13 and 14 are the rest of the Eye-Opening Arc proper. So we’ll go with that. In the meantime, let’s take a look at Shion! When we last left her, she’d locked Mion in the Sonozaki family torture chamber and was laughing maniacally. Where can we go from here?

Oh, there’s always somewhere further down you can go! Shoin still has to figure out what happened to her beloved Satoshi, after all. So she disguises herself as Mion and starts an odd double life, using Keiichi and the others to try to further her own agenda. Or at least what she thinks her agenda is. In doing so, she also runs afoul of the Village’s Council of Elders. Honestly, some of their reaction to hearing there were intruders in the shrine might be Shion’s paranoia, but I doubt it. They’re simply reactionary people in power, and not pleasant at all.

Of course, this isn’t comparing them to Shion, who outstrips everyone else in this arc for pure evil, even if it’s in the name of a misplaced love and revenge. She kidnaps the head of the village and sets him up in a slow hanging torture device that, well, slowly hangs him. (Shots of his feet danging in the backgrounds in Volume 4 are chilling, especially as they’re never the actual focus of the scene.) And unfortunately, Shion is still no closer to finding anything out, as the head of the village doesn’t know anything, and her grandmother is dead.

Shion has been attempting to be crafty, but it’s not particularly working well except against overly trusting people like Keiichi. So it’s no surprise that when Rika comes over to ‘borrow some soy sauce’, it seems to be a ruse in order to inject Shion with something. We think. This is the trouble with trying to trust a viewpoint in Higurashi. It makes for a good cliffhanger, though.

Then we get to Volume 4. It’s the final volume of the arc, and by far the bloodiest to date. Shion manages to defeat Rika from injecting her, and decides to take her off to be tortured like she did with the village elder and her sister. Rika, oddly, does not really want to be tortured, and decides that since it’s clear Shion is too far gone, she will commit suicide instead. By stabbing herself in the neck with a knife. Repeatedly. It’s a horrific scene to see, and even Shion seems briefly horrified by it.

But at least she avoided what’s coming next, after Shion invites Satoko over for some tea and torture. Given that Satoko is Satoshi’s brother, this is the grimmest scene in the whole arc (and that’s saying a lot). Shion is filled with misplaced blame and anger, and as it turns out so is Satoko, who has been blaming herself for her brother’s disappearance, and is convinced that if she’s a good girl and doesn’t cry that she can see him again. This is the only scene in the manga where Shion threatens to slowly torture someone to death and actually does it, as she stabs Satoko (who she has already crucified – no vague symbolism here) repeatedly in the arms until she dies from blood loss.

This is followed by an epiphany that would be rather touching if it wasn’t far too late – Shion, going over all her memories, finally recalls Satoshi asking her, right before he disappeared, to take care of Satoko for him. And I’m pretty sure he did not mean ‘take care’ as in torture. Shion’s anguish as she realizes that not only did she not do this but in fact has failed at everything she wanted to do to get closer to him is equal parts heartbreaking and amusing (there’s a wonderful shot of her thinking about Satoko and Satoshi, beloved brother and sister, keeping their promise to each other, and them slowly swiveling her head over to the crucifix where Satoko still hangs.), but in the end it’s a mere illusion, as Shion decides she is ‘possessed by the demon’ and goes off to kill Keiichi (who she still seems to blame for not being Satoshi.)

What follows is the end of the Cotton Drifting Arc, only from Shion’s perspective, now that we know it was actually her and not Mion. My favorite part of these two arcs occurs here, as Shion has basically made an unspoken bet with her sister to see if Keiichi is able to discover that she’s really Shion. He doesn’t, so she gleefully starts to torture him – only to have him beg the ‘demon’ inside her to release Mion, and Shion realizes that he not only can’t believe that his good friend Mion would be capable of such things, but ALSO can’t suspect Shion. Keiichi is simply too nice.

So she knocks him out with her taser, and goes to have a final heart to heart with Mion. We do actually get a few answers here, this being the first of the answer arcs – but not too many. It’s made clear that the Sonozakis don’t really have anything to do with Satoshi’s disappearance – they’re just really good at bluffing and looking evil. The whole twin switching thing is also given its last twist, as it turns out that when they were kids they switched so that Shion could attend a meeting and Mion could go to the amusement park. The only problem was this was when the elders of the family tattooed ‘Mion’ with the mark that branded her as the next head of the family. So Shion was actually born Mion, and fell into disfavor. Yet another reason she’s so screwed up. Unfortunately, this does not help the Mion we know, who Shion allows to fall into the pit in their basement and break her neck.

And so Shion, tormented by now by absolutely anything and everything she’s ever done in her life, goes to the hospital to stab Keiichi, convinced by now that she has to kill everyone to gain forgiveness. And then she falls off a roof trying to escape. Bad end. REALLY bad end. There’s a brief shot of a dying Shion regretting all the decisions she made, and imagining what would have happened if she’d ,listened to Satoshi and become a big sister figure to Satoko. Sadly, it’s just a fantasy, and the final shot is of her corpse staring up at the reader.

This was gripping stuff, but not exactly what I would call feel-good material. What’s more, we have yet another arc with a singularly unsympathetic protagonist, as despite all attempts to make Shion likeable, you really can’t get past the paranoia and madness. Luckily, this arc is over. In October we begin the ‘Atonement’ arc, which stars Rena (remember Rena? The supposed star of the series?), and is the ‘answer arc’ to the very first Higurashi manga. Hopefully it will be as well-told as this arc was… and perhaps a little lighter in tone? I know I can’t get a good end yet, but…

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Natsume’s Book of Friends, Vol. 8

August 16, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

By Yuki Midorikawa. Released in Japan as “Natsume Yuujinchou” by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine LaLa. Released in North America by Viz.

This is one of those shoujo manga that keeps getting better as it goes along. Midorikawa is finding what her strengths and weaknesses are, and thus as Natsume grows so does the series. I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t wait for each new release.

The early volumes had Natsume almost entirely interacting with yokai and those humans who interact with yokai every day. Which is nice and all, but he is still trying to be a normal kid as well. That’s why I was pleased to see this volume focused so much on his relationships with both his classmates and his adapted family. Tanuma and Taki do interact with yokai, but at a level far lower than that of Natsume. As a result, their worry for him is far more oriented in the human world. Natsume’s this awkward teen who tries to take on too much, and they aren’t sure that he’d let them know if something was too difficult a burden.

The culture festival was excellent, and shows that Natsume can also open up to classmates who have no supernatural powers whatsoever. It’s also a good example of what I was just talking about, which is Natsume having to realize that he can’t do everything all by himself, and that it’s OK to rely on others sometimes. “Life is full of new challenges,” he notes at the end of the chapter. Indeed, the next two chapters seem to follow on directly from this, as he tries to deepen his friendship with Tanuma while attempting to deal with a broken Yokai mirror. There’s no explicit BL in this series, but those who like to be fans of it will find plenty of evidence in this volume for the two of them having unresolved sexual tension.

(On a related note, Taki looks totally hot cross-dressing as a guy, and I fully support an OT3 between the three of them.)

The last main chapter of the book talks about Natsume’s relationship with his adopted parents, and we see flashbacks to where they met. Given that Natsume is so desperate to keep his yokai powers hidden from them in order to avoid having them worry (or, it’s unstated, to avoid creeping them out), this is another welcome look into Natsume’s life. Seeing the younger boy that he was, we realize how far he’s come in just a few short volumes. And a lot of it seems to be due to the love he gets from the Fujiwaras, who really do care about him as they would their own child. Seeing Natsume break down at the end was quite touching.

As you would expect from a volume dealing Natsume’s relationships with his friends and family, the yokai content is not as high as prior volumes. Though the yokai in the chapters with the Fujiwaras makes up for this by being extra creepy with a side of horrific. You’re quite pleased when Nyanko-sensei “deals” with it (and it’s always nice to see Nyanko-sensei in full-blown huge mode). There’s also a cute mini-story featuring Chobi, the odd moustachioed yokai we’ve seen as comic relief in a few volumes. It’s cute to see, and also serves to show how much the yokai are learning from Matsume.

Between this and Nura, Viz has sort of been on a yokai kick lately. (Any hopes for Gegege no Kitaro?) But the joy of reading this title is not for the yokai, though they’re very well done as well. It’s seeing an awkward, reclusive young boy come out of his shell and begin to show the love and affection to his friends and family that he hasn’t been able to do before. It’s a terrific series.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Velveteen & Mandala

August 15, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

Jiro Matsumoto’s Velveteen & Mandala, a phantasmagoria of zombie-slaying, nudity, and poop, seems calibrated to shock readers into nervous laughter, though it’s never entirely clear if Matsumoto has a greater point to make. Like many of the shorts in the AX anthology, Velveteen & Mandala lacks any overarching sense of narrative direction or social commentary. The volume consists of fourteen loosely connected vignettes starring Velveteen, a ditzy blonde, and Mandala, her frenemy. Both are living on the outskirts of Tokyo, though the time is left to the reader’s imagination; all we know is that a war has ravaged the city, reducing it to a weedy sprawl of corpses, tanks, and abandoned buildings. In some of the stories, the two wield pistols and patrol their territory, shooting anything in sight; in others, they forage for food; and in others, their girlish horseplay shades in sadism or sexual violence.

The first three chapters are relatively innocuous, documenting the minutiae of the girls’ day-to-day existence. Velveteen lives in an amnesiac fog, snapping to consciousness only when she devises a new technique for torturing Mandala. Mandala, too, delights in annoying her friend, adopting verbal mannerisms that drive Velveteen to violent distraction. Neither seems particularly bright; their dialogue and destructive behavior make them seem like a pair of mean-spirited ko-gals.

The series takes a turn for the ugly in “The Super,” a brief story introducing a nameless, pantsless man to whom Velveteen administers a sharp crack on the head. (She wants to keys to his secret stash of weapons. And taxidermy animals. Yes, we’re in Underground Comix territory, folks.) From there on, Matsumoto begins playing up the scatological angle; we’re treated to numerous scenes of Velveteen defecating and vomiting, as well as images of her exposing herself.

The nadir is a gang rape scene in which Velveteen narrowly escapes her captors thanks to an explosive bout of indigestion. I’m guessing — perhaps wrongly — that Matsumoto intended this episode as a particularly nasty joke, designed to an elicit an appreciative “Dude! That’s so gross!” from readers. But as a feminist, it’s impossible not to find this passage yet another tiresome example of a male artist using sexual violence to titillate and shock the reader. (The loving way in which he draws a semi-naked Velveteen only confirms the pornographic impression.) Making things worse is that Matsumoto doesn’t just suggest that Velveteen is dirty, he literally covers her and her would-be assailants in her own filth. Nothing about the character or the story suggests that Matsumoto is trying to make a greater point about sexual violence, or level the playing between victim and attacker, or make the reader uncomfortably aware of his arousal at the scene; if anything, the cruelly unflattering way in which Matsumoto portrays Velveteen suggests a deep contempt for teenage girls.

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about Velveteen & Mandala is that Matsumoto is a genuinely good artist. His linework is superb, reminiscent of Taiyo Matsumoto and Daisuke Igurashi; it’s scratchy and energetic, well-suited to depicting the urban wasteland in which the story unfolds. His characters’ faces are superbly animated, too; few artists can draw malicious glee or surprise with such precision, even if that skill is put in service of drawing a thoroughly repellent cast.

Yet for all the obvious artistry behind Velveteen & Mandala, it’s a stretch to call this book a Hobbesian meditation on survival. Matsumoto’s dialogue is too stylized to register as genuine communication, while his fixation on the most bodily aspects of existence comes off as coprophilia, not meaningful commentary on the human condition. A more thoughtful artist might have found a way to put an intelligent or funny spin on the schoolgirls-slay-zombies premise, but in Matsumoto’s hands, the underlying message seems to be that teenage girls are just as nasty and despicable as the rest of us, as evidenced by the fact that they poop and puke, too.

Review copy provided by Vertical, Inc. Velveteen & Mandala will be released on August 30, 2011.

VELVETEEN & MANDALA • BY JIRO MATSUMOTO • VERTICAL, INC. • 344 pp. • RATING: MATURE (18+)

Filed Under: Manga, Manga Critic, REVIEWS Tagged With: Jiro Matsumoto, vertical

Bookshelf Briefs pointer

August 15, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

For those who read my reviews by category, I have reviews of La Quinta Camera and Twin Spica 8 in this week’s Bookshelf Briefs.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Ichigenme, Vols. 1 and 2

August 15, 2011 by David Welsh

Ichigenme: The First Class Is Civil Law (801 Media) wasn’t the first yaoi work by Fumi Yoshinaga that I read, but it’s my favorite, and it has all of the qualities I use to define what I classify as the best of that category.

It’s about law-school students, and, by that, I don’t mean that it features characters who are identified as law-school students. In some romance stories, regardless of the sexual orientation of the protagonists, their professions are identified as a matter of course. For all careers matter to the narrative, they could just as well be identified as working in weaponized genetics or unicorn husbandry. But Yoshinaga has her characters spend a lot of time in the classroom, and she’s given a lot of thought to the culture of a law school.

Hard-working, average-income Tamiya and lazy, elite Tohdou are in the same seminar. It’s a notoriously easy course, so it’s generally populated with the entitled spawn of politicians, business magnates, and celebrities. They’re the kind of people who are just vamping until their inevitable success, because they know it’s ensured, relatively speaking. Tamiya’s success is equally assured, but that’s because he’s brilliant and he works hard. His classmates view him as a kind of charming oddity, and you can tell he bristles at their condescension as much as their stupidity.

So the series is also about class distinctions, which isn’t unfamiliar territory for Yoshinaga. It was the crux of conflict in Gerard and Jacques (Blu), and caste inequities inform virtually every page of Ôoku: The Inner Chambers (Viz). The injustices of the smug and privileged don’t sour the good times, though, and Yoshinaga doesn’t sermonize. The elites are basically a benign but useless subspecies that’s good for a laugh, though their systemized superiority can certainly be damaging. Class differences in romantic fiction aren’t uncommon, but they can be as cosmetic as careers. Yoshinaga goes deeper, and she earns laughs in the process.

So that’s two things that Ichigenme is actually about aside from a romantic relationship, and they bring me to another good-yaoi differential in evidence: there’s a female character of consequence in the series. Terada is as good a student as Tamiya, and her pedigree is about equal to his. Tereda gives Tamiya a partner in eye-rolling, and she lets Yoshinaga work in some stinging examples of sexist double standards that successful women have to endure. Tereda is a more driven, polished version of Haruka and Tammy in Antique Bakery (Digital Manga), and her scenes have sly, satirical power. That she vanishes after the first volume isn’t really a problem; that’s another pattern of Yoshinaga yaoi, and it’s better than no representation at all of the other 50-plus percent of the population.

It’s starting to sound like Ichigenme is seinen slice-of-life, so I should hasten to mention that the core relationship between Tamiya and Tohdou is urgent and persuasive, and it’s barely formulaic at all. Okay, so Tamiya has never thought of himself as gay, and Tohdou’s attentions surprise him. That’s one of the most common starting points there is. But Tamiya actually goes through an evolution instead of a spontaneous conversion. It takes more than one drunken kiss for Tamiya’s whole life to change, and it’s quite charming to see Tohdou’s combination of patience and determination in wooing his overly serious classmate. (One of his techniques is cooking for Tamiya, another always-welcome feature of Yoshinaga’s manga.)

Even though Tohdou is refreshingly secure in his sexual orientation, he’s got his own insecurities and issues. Tamiya isn’t the only one moving toward maturity and understanding. Yoshinaga is very careful with the emotional progression of both of her protagonists; it’s not a matter of one catching up to the other. And their milestones feel like actual milestones rather than foregone conclusions.

The last distinguishing factor if this title is that it’s very, very sexy. The erotic moments she portrays aren’t pristine; they can be awkward and ridiculous and still erotic at the same time. Yes, Tamiya and Tohdou are very attractive, but they don’t reach the point of magical beings, and their sex scenes have a kind of credibility that make them even more urgent and effective. (This is much more evident in the second volume. Lots and lots of sex in the second volume is another thing you grow accustomed to with Yoshinaga yaoi.)

So, that’s my list of the things I love about Ichigenme. It has credible, mature characters with rounded lives. It takes sexual identity seriously. It’s funny. It’s sexy. It’s pretty much everything I hope for when I pick up yaoi.

(This review is part of the Fumi Yoshinaga Manga Moveable Feast.)

 

Filed Under: REVIEWS

K-On!, Vol. 3

August 15, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

By Kakifly. Released in Japan by Houbunsha, serialized in the magazine Manga Time Kirara. Released in North America by Yen Press.

Time, believe it or not, keeps marching on for our girls, as they enter their senior year in this volume. Of course, trying to think about their future plans is just a little bit too hard right now, so they continue to do what they do best – drink tea, glomp each other, do boke/tsukkomi routines, and occasionally play music.

By now Azusa is fully absorbed into the cast mix, and there’s no new people introduced here. The amusement comes from watching the girls behave the way we want them to, and occasionally subvert our expectations. (In fact, I noticed that’s how Ritsu tends to work a lot of the time – she’s crafty enough to know how folks will react to her doing something, and takes advantage of it. Thus when it doesn’t go the way she planned, she’s more upset than usual.) This is typified by one of the earlier stories, where the cast decide to try to help Mio get over her stage fright by working at a maid cafe so she can open up more. Naturally, though, being terrified of performing is one of Mio’s ‘cute’ points, so it’s doomed to failure.

I also really enjoyed the chapter devoted to Mugi and Ritsu. Mugi usually gets the short end of the stick when it comes to developed appearances – in fact, the moment Azusa arrived, she started to do more and be seen more than our yuri-loving keyboaardist. So seeing her go around town with Ritsu was nice, and shows us a more serious side. Even if it’s played for laughs, it’s quite clear that Mugi is desperate for interaction with other girls her own age, and that much of her own obsession with the girls hugging and occasional yuri fantasies are due more to her completely sheltered upbringing. To Mugi, Mio hitting Ritsu all the time is a sign that they’re the closest of friends. To Ritsu, it just hurts. And Mugi gets the perfect capper here as well, saying something so oblivious that it actually provokes the aforementioned ‘friendship hit’. This was probably my favorite part of the book.

Although the final story comes close, where we see how Mio and Ritsu met, and the story of their unlikely friendship. This was a special chapter, so manages to break out of the 4-koma format, and it’s better for it, feeling a lot more relaxed and nostalgic. Mio and Ritsu as children are much the same as they are now, but we start to see how Ritsu can get Mio out of her shell, and how Mio is a better person for it. Though Mio may not see it that way…

Again, Yen’s translation is mostly excellent. Azu-meow continues to niggle at me. There’s also a class trip to Kyoto, which brings us to the dreaded Kyoto dialect translation. This is next to impossible to convey without jarring somewhat, especially if the gag is to show it being said by someone that would not normally use such a dialect, such as Mugi. That said, the choice of ‘urban New York’ and seeing Yui and Mugi swearing… feels really off to me. I think I’d have preferred the usual southern drawl instead.

Some noise was made in this volume about thinking about the future, and we see Yui struggling with a future career. But that’s all for Volume 4. For now, there’s tea and cakes, and sometimes music. And there’s cute 4-koma silliness. K-on! is not winning any awards, but it remains a light, fun, breezy read, and has some loveable cast members.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Seiho Boys’ High School!, Vol. 7

August 11, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

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.

We’ve almost finished with this short and enjoyable shoujo series. As we hit the penultimate volume, the main boys (well, the main straight boys) all have girlfriends of some sort or another. So we’re left with doing plots on side characters we haven’t seen much of till now, and working on seeing how well those relationships with the girls are being maintained. As always, communication is the key.

The first chapter shows us a girl who goes through guys like kleenex, and her platonic best friend who has tried going to Seiho to get away from the drama that is her life. Of course, ‘platonic’ in this case turns out to be as platonic as most other shoujo manga cute friendships. Maki manages to step in and show the two what everyone but them can see (and honestly, the girl gets it too), with that special blend of being a complete jerk for the right reasons that he does so well. Given that it’s all too easy to peg Maki into the ‘sweet’ hole, I like seeing him when he’s a bit of an asshole.

Next we’re back to Kamiki, with what was likely my favorite chapter of the volume. He’s come down with a bad cold, and is starting to lose the image that he projects so hard under a feverish glare of ‘you know what? I just don’t care anymore’. We see some shots of him as a child dealing with his somewhat scatterbrained mother. He acts the strong, always in control boy so he can please her… but then she worries he’s too stoic. Finding a happy medium is tough, especially when you’re busy burying most of your emotions. (Suddenly it’s easier to see why he might have fallen for his stepsister.)

It’s even harder when your girlfriend is acting a bit too clingy, and your best friend is trying to get a bit too involved in your life as always. Kamiki and Maki’s brief fistfight is not as startling as what he says, and despite it being due to a fever, I think Kamiki with the filter off is great at telling those little annoying truths. Maki’s dating a girl with the same name and a similar personality as his dead crush. Why wouldn’t anyone be wary of that? Heck, I’ve mentioned myself I keep waiting for it to blow up in my past reviews. Still, Maki’s rationalization is a good one, and I’m starting to think I may not get the full confession I was hoping for.

There then follows a weak chapter with a student teacher inspiring Maki to be an idiot. The chapter after that, however, tells Miyaki and Erika’s side of the Kamiki chapter, and shows how the two, despite being dissimilar, have become such good friends. It shows both of them not at their best – Miyaji overreacts to everything, and is constantly fretting, which Erika’s ‘I don’t need anyone or anything’ persona sometimes blinds her to when Miyaji needs a hug more than a kick in the pants – but the dynamic is excellent. I like that Miyaji, during their fight, can immediately tell that she hurt Erika, and how it gnaws at her. It makes her less of a giant flake, which she’s had a tendency to be in this series.

There’s another cliffhanger ending, this time playing on Miyaji’s insecurities, but given Vol. 6’s ending didn’t apparently do much I’m not sure if this one will either. Still, it’s another great volume of an underrated shoujo series, and with the next volume being the final one I hope that all our leads find some measure of happiness. Bittersweet endings can be nice, but I like sugary sweet better.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Book Girl and the Famished Spirit

August 10, 2011 by Ash Brown

Author: Mizuki Nomura
Illustrator: Miho Takeoka

Translator: Karen McGillicuddy
U.S. publisher: Yen Press
ISBN: 9780316076920
Released: January 2011
Original release: 2006

Book Girl and the Famished Spirit is the second book in Mizuki Nomura’s sixteen-volume light novel series Book Girl, illustrated by Miho Takeoka. Originally published in Japan in 2006, the book was released in English in 2011 by Yen Press. Once again, Karen McGillicuddy serves as the translator for the series. I read the first volume, Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime not too long ago and absolutely loved it. The book more or less made me an instant fan and so there was no question that I would be picking up Book Girl and the Famished Spirit. I am still quite fond of the premise of a “book girl,” a yōkai that devours the written word instead of food. Even though this story element is often relegated to the background, it is still important and I find it to be utterly delightful. Because I enjoyed Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime so much, I was really looking forward to reading Book Girl and the Famished Spirit.

Despite insisting she doesn’t believe in them, Tohko, the self-proclaimed “book girl,” is afraid of ghosts. Normally this wouldn’t be such a problem, but someone has been leaving encoded messages in the literature club’s mailbox. Messages that seem to be similar to the ones rumored to be left all over the school by a wandering ghost. But whether a prank pulled by a classmate or a legitimate spirit (book girls exist after all, so why not ghosts?), one thing is clear—the notes are asking for help. Tohko intends to investigate the incidents, assuming that Konoha, her underclassman and the only other member of the literature club, will be willing to assist her. But he’s reluctant, especially as the notes become more threatening. He hopes that she will just leave the whole matter alone.

While Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime was heavily influenced by Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human, Book Girl and the Famished Spirit takes its inspiration from Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights. In some ways the story is actually more cruel than the original. If you’ve never read Wuthering Heights, don’t worry. If there’s one thing that Tohko likes to do besides eating literature, it’s talking about it and she provides a very nice summarization of the novel. Throughout the series she frequently launches into tirades about books, even at seemingly inappropriate moments. This is part of her charm although it can come across as tangential. Nomura is constantly dropping references to various works and authors, some more well known than others. But my favorite thing about Book Girl and the Famished Spirit was the introduction of Ryuto. I almost hope that he also turns out to be some sort of yōkai, but I’d still be happy even if it turns out he’s just simply a masochist.

For the most part, Book Girl and the Famished Spirit can stand fairly well on its own and it’s not absolutely necessary to have read Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime. The main mystery is almost completely separate with only a few minor references to the previous one. However, more information is given about Konoha and Tohko. To be honest, it is their backgrounds that intrigue me the most at this point. Konoha’s past in particular is slowly being introduced, piece by piece, within the context of the incidents he and Tohko get caught up in. It’s an interesting but effective technique. Although I enjoyed Book Girl and the Famished Spirit, I didn’t like it nearly as well as I did the first book. I’m not really sure why; maybe it’s just that I happen to prefer No Longer Human over Wuthering Heights. Regardless, I still intend to continue the series with the next volume, Book Girl and the Captive Fool.

Filed Under: REVIEWS Tagged With: book girl, Light Novels, Miho Takeoka, Mizuki Nomura, Novels, yen press

Otomen, Vol. 11

August 8, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

By Aya Kanno. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Bessatsu Hana to Yume (“Betsuhana”). Released in North America by Viz.

Well, in my review of Volume 10 I asked for an end to these ‘minor villains’ coming in to try to de-Otomen our hero, and do a degree I got that. But that’s because the series main villain makes her big return. Asuka’s mother is back, and she is not about to let her boy do anything girly whatsoever. But that’s not till 2/3 of the way through this volume. First we have to finish off the cycle of teachers who were brought in to clean up the school.

When we left our heroes, they were on a field trip to learn to become perfect samurai and geisha. Unfortunately, a landslide has destroyed the only way out to get food and supplies, and trapped them. Luckily, our heroes are not content to let gender stereotypes get in their way! Asuka creates festival decorations to distract the class, while Ryo goes hunting for giant fish, having earlier proven that she can’t be trusted with mushroom gathering. She also rescues an injured Tonomine, and in general is pretty badass. (Given I’ve whined about her so much in the past, I will grant her this.) She also cleans up nicely when she goes dancing with Ryo later.

The best chapters in the manga are the ones back at school dealing with Valentine’s Day, which naturally leads to another Otomen challenge, this one disguised as it’s based around punishing an anonymous person who wrote soppy romantic poetry. Asuka steps in to stop the punishment, and finds himself battling the school nurse, Oji, who is not only handsome and sexy, but also exudes pheromones to make all the girls fall for him. Asuka has merely his natural charm, handsomeness, and politeness to fall back on.

It’s a tough battle, especially as Ryo has seemed distant and keeps brushing him off. (If you’ve guessed what she’s doing, you’re right – this is Otomen. Surprises in the plot are for other manga.) But in the end, Asuka realizes that the shallowness of this competition is not for him, and throws it by giving all the chocolates back (notes he grabs each chocolate from a huge pile and remembers who gave it to him exactly), as the only ones he can accept are from Ryo, who of course has spent the last few days making her lethal chocolate for him. Awwwwww.

Unfortunately, after this we hit our Worst Case Scenario – Asuka’s mother is back, taking over the school as Kasuga and his squad of teachers failed. So Asuka is back to desperately hiding everything, which is even more unfortunate given there’s a class in teaching men how to bake cakes going on! This is the most cliched of the chapters, but does continue to lean on some heavy foreshadowing, and of course I can’t hope for his mother to give in right away, as otherwise where would the plot tension be?

The manga ends with a sample of the first chapter of Love Chick, Juta’s manga based on Asuka and Ryo only gender reversed. It’s a good thing it’s only fictional, as I found it quite dull. Oh well. More importantly, Otomen has now caught up with Japan, which mean we won’t get another volume for 6 months. So I hope you didn’t mind the cliffhanger. As ever, I want slightly more out of Otomen than what it gives, but an reasonably happy with it regardless.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Monthly Comic Alive

August 7, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

I’ve spent the past few days down with a nasty cold, one of the worst I’ve had in years. Nausea, coughing, slight fever, weakness, the works. As a result, reviews have been thin on the ground. So I figured that, since I’m *already* ill, what better time to take a look at the August issue of Monthly Comic Alive, from the folks at Media Factory?

Usually whenever I go into NYC I try to get a different manga magazine to try out. Lately I’ve been limited as they’ve stopped carrying some of the really obscure ones, and the choices seem to be limited to the old classics – all the big 3 shonen, Morning/Afternoon/Evening, Big Comic/Original/Superior/Spirits, and Young ______. The remainder, down on the bottom shelf of Kinokuniya’s seinen section, tend to be what I call ‘media tie-in boobie magazines’, where the manga caters to people who like franchises and fanservice. Here you’ll find Kadokawa’s Shonen and Young Ace, for example, or Shonen Gahosha’s Young King Ours. And Champion Red goes here, despite its lack of tie-ins, by its sheer skeeziness.

Media Factory is in general known as an anime company first and foremost. In 1999 they started to put out a manga magazine Comic Flapper, which is still running, and was the home of Dark Horse’s incomplete series Translucent. In 2006 they noted the growing otaku market and started Comic Alive, which oozes otaku from its every pore. I picked up the August issue with trepidation. I mean, look at this cover.

So, knowing I was in for a rough ride, I started to glance through the contents. Let’s see…

It needs to be said, if you want to know what the current otaku kinks are, Comic Alive is a great place to go. Catgirls are in here, of course. As are maids. A lot of maids. Panties, of course. Gotta have lots of underwear. And of course lots of nudity as well. There’s also witches, mainly as half the magazine seems to be fantasy of some sort. Fans of current anime series will find a lot of this familiar, as many of these are current animes, past animes, or future animes. Sacred Blacksmith. Zero no Tsukaima. Sasameki Koto. Boku wa Tomodachi ga Sukunai. MM! Maria Holic. Stein’s Gate. In addition, a good number of those I just mentioned are based off of light novels or games, making it even more franchise bait. And a few of them have ‘side stories’ running in other magazines from other companies.

As I wrote short notes about each chapter I read, one thing kept coming up over and over. ‘Ecchi fantasy’. Not porn, of course, as that would require anyone actually getting lucky, which isn’t going to happen here. But… well, I could probably write a synopsis that would fit 75% of Comic Alive’s stories.

“Kenji, a nondescript ordinary guy, is going to school at Elite Academy, where he finds he is one of only 10 boys in a school almost entirely populated by girls. One day, he discovers that he is the bearer of an awesome power (magic/swordsmanship/being really nice, delete where appropriate), but one that can only be used if he gains power by earning the love and/or affection (really, rubbing against him will do) of at least five different 13-16 year old girls of varying personalities and body types, as long as you have one girl who’s flat-chested and angry and one who is buxom and seductive. Of course, Kenji is a nice guy, so these girls have nothing to fear. As the series goes on, he will come up against bigger villains and more girls, all of whom fall for him and most of whom he meets when he walks in on them changing, or in the shower, or hell, when they wake up naked in his bed. What’s Kenji going to do? How can he possibly decide which girl is his true love and which he just needs to use their affection to power himself up? Especially as he represents so many readers, none of whom will agree. (He’ll probably end up with the angry girl, but let’s hedge our bets and do a side-story in Shonen Ace where he doesn’t.) Soon to be a new anime in the Fall of 2012!”

There are a few bright spots. Sasameki Koto may be a bit more serious than it once was, but its relatively realistic look at a budding yuri couple is a breath of fresh air amidst all the panty shots elsewhere in the magazine. Likewise Himawari-san, another low-key series with a dash of yuri. I was also quite pleased with Suugaku Girl, which is apparently in its third incarnation, and is designed to teach difficult math concepts through the power of moe cat-eared girls. It has some service, but not a lot, and seems to be pretty dedicated to teaching its math (at least from the one chapter I read).

But really, the thing that struck me most about Comic Alive, a magazine devoted to being the go-to point for otaku who like to read more of the same, it’s that there were 4 different series that had 4-koma comedy spinoffs later in the magazine. Zero no Tsukaima, Mayo Chiki, Infinite Stratos, an Aria the Scarlet Ammo *all* have cutesy superdeformed 4-koma series to keep milking the same thing. Presumably as if they had to rely on series that weren’t part of a light novel/manga/anime/game franchise, it would be a very short magazine indeed.

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Manga on the Big Screen: Love*Com, NANA, and Ping Pong

August 5, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

As anyone who’s seen Green Lantern or Captain America can attest, adapting a comic for the silver screen is an art, not a science. Done poorly, comic book movies alienate fans with the omission of favorite characters and glossing of seminal plotlines, or confuse newcomers with in-jokes and choppy storytelling. Done well, however, comic book movies can appeal to just about anyone who’s receptive to the genre and the characters. VIZ Pictures may not have released as many comic-book movies as DC or Marvel, but its catalog includes adaptations of several popular manga, including Aya Nakahara’s Love*Com, Ai Yazawa’s NANA, and Taiyo Matsumoto’s Ping Pong. These three films make an instructive case study, as they illustrate the pitfalls and potentials of bridging the gap between page and screen.

Love*Com: The Movie
VIZ Pictures • 100 minutes • No Rating
Risa, the tallest girl in the seventh grade, develops a crush on Otani, the shortest boy in her class. Though superficial opposites, the two are really kindred spirits, sharing an enthusiasm for Umibozu (a Japanese rap artist that their classmates detest), swapping good-natured insults, and bonding over memories of rejection for being too tall and too short, respectively.

Whether you’ve read Aya Nakahara’s charming manga or not, you won’t have too much difficulty guessing how the story will end. The problem, however, is that Risa and Otani’s journey from bickering classmates to boyfriend and girlfriend seems utterly contrived. The scriptwriter borrows two romantic rivals from different volumes in the series’ run, but only succeeds in making Mr. “Mighty” Maitake, Risa’s handsome homeroom teacher, an integral part of the story. Even then, Mighty’s arrival is a bolt from the blue, and is never satisfactorily explained; he’s simply inserted into the final act of the story so that he and Otani can compete for Risa’s affections. (And when I say “compete,” I mean it: the two play a pick-up basketball game in front of the entire school.)

The other major drawback to Love*Com is its superficial treatment of the principal characters. Though Aya Nakahara’s manga charts the ups and downs of Risa and Otani’s friendship in minute detail, the movie’s frantic pace never allows us to get to know the characters or understand why they’re drawn to each other; we simply see them walk through a variety of stock scenes — cultural festivals, school trips — without actually seeing the evolution of their feelings dramatized.

It’s a pity that the Love*Com script feels so hastily assembled, as the film has the potential to appeal to both long-time fans and newcomers. The button-cute leads have some chemistry, even if the script doesn’t give them much to do. And the script shows flashes of inspiration; a “director” surrogate periodically interrupts the proceedings to explain certain peculiar-to-manga conventions (most notably the nosebleed-as-sign-of-arousal), intoning this information over strains of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. These digressions occur just a few times, but add some much-needed humor to a film that lacks the wit and honesty of the source material.

The verdict: Skip it. This flat, uninspired retelling of Risa and Otani’s courtship will bore all but the most devoted Love*Com fans.

This review originally appeared at PopCultureShock on 3/24/08.

Nana
VIZ Pictures • 114 minutes • No Rating
I admire Kentaro Otani’s chutzpah in bringing NANA to the big screen, as it’s the kind of story that inspires intense devotion to the characters; make a poor casting decision or cut a beloved character and you run the risk of angering the manga’s most devoted fans. Otani steers clear of those hazards, however, assembling an appealing cast that look and sound like their cartoon doppelgangers. The movie offers a somewhat streamlined account of the manga’s first five volumes, beginning with the two Nanas’ fateful encounter on a Tokyo-bound train and ending with Trapnest’s first visit to the girls’ apartment. Most of the dramatic juice is supplied by Hachi’s relationship with the feckless art student Shoji, and by Nana O.’s relationship with Trapnest bassist Ren.

As much as I enjoy the manga, I’ve always found Hachi’s relentless enthusiasm and boy-crazy antics irritating and couldn’t imagine why the fierce, scornful Nana O. didn’t feel the same way about her. As portrayed by Aoi Miyazaki, however, the character makes more sense. Miyazaki does a superb job of convincing us that Nana O. would befriend someone who seems too ditzy, too dependent, and too femme to hang with an up-and-coming punk act. Mika Nakashima, as Nana O., also turns in a solid performance, playing her character as a believable mixture of belligerence, determination, and vulnerability.

The other great advantage of the movie is its soundtrack. All of the rock-n-roll shoptalk and song lyrics seemed a little preposterous on the page; I had a hard time imaging why Trapnest or Black Stones commanded loyal followings, as they seemed like pallid imitations of Siouxsie and the Banshees. Seeing and hearing these acts in the film, however, transported me back to my college years, reminding me how passionately I felt about certain musicians, and how much their songs felt like an expression of my own identity. The film’s two lengthy concert scenes are highpoints of the film, offering us a window into both girls’ complicated emotional lives — their dreams, their disappointments, their improbably close relationship.

I had a few small bones to pick with the scriptwriters — what happened to Junko and Kyosuke? — but on the whole, I found NANA immensely entertaining. The true measure of the film’s appeal, however, is that my sister, who isn’t a manga maven, loved it too, and wanted to know if there was a sequel. Thank goodness the answer is yes.

The verdict: Rent it. Some die-hard fans may take issue with the casting and script, as the film isn’t as faithful to the manga as the anime adaptation is.

This review originally appeared at PopCultureShock on 3/24/08.

Ping Pong
VIZ Pictures • 114 minutes • No Rating
Based on Taiyo Matsumoto’s manga of the same name, Ping Pong focuses on a pair of friends: Peco (Yosuke Kubozuka), a flamboyant table tennis star who’s obsessed with the game, and Smile (Arata), a reticent young man whose primary motive for playing is to spend time with Peco, whom he quietly regards as a hero. Peco’s swaggering style — complete with acrobatic leaps, trash talk, and frequent dives — makes for good theater, but he’s trounced in a tournament by long-time rival Demon (Koji Ohkura). Despondent over the loss, Peco quits the team and burns his paddle. The coach, himself a former champion known as “Butterfly Joe” (Naoto Takenaka), then turns to Smile to lead his peers to victory in the next major competition, a responsibility Smile is reluctant to accept.

Like Hoosiers, Rocky, Rudy, or A League of Their Own, Ping Pong sticks close to the sports movie playbook, delivering epiphanies with clockwork precision. Smile discovers his inner competitor. Peco discovers that he can’t live without ping pong. “Butterfly Joe” imparts wisdom to Smile. And so on.

Yet for all its sports-movie posturing, Ping Pong is weirdly thrilling, thanks, in large part, to the colorful cast of supporting characters: there’s Peco’s chain-smoking grandmother (Mari Natsuki), a fierce devotee of the sport who runs a table tennis dojo; China (Sam Lee), a washed-up Chinese champion seeking a fresh start in Japan; and Dragon (Shidou Nakamura), a competitor who shaves his eyebrows in an effort to look more intimidating. The other key to Ping Pong‘s success is its fidelity to Taiyo Matsumoto’s original vision. Director Fumihiko Sori’s painstaking efforts to recreate the look and feel of the manga are evident throughout the film, from the casting decisions to the extreme camera angles, jump shots, and fleeting fantasy sequences; Sori manages to capture Ping Pong‘s heightened reality without becoming too arch or mannered.

Fans wanting a behind-the-scenes look at the table tennis action or a few pointers for their own game will want to view the omake on this two-disc set, which includes a 54 minute “making of” documentary, a short “how to” feature reviewing ping pong techniques, and the usual assortment of trailers, tv spots, and cast profiles. All in all, Ping Pong makes a great addition to your library, especially if you still have dog-eared copies of No. 5 kicking around the attic.

The verdict: Rent or buy it. The film captures the arch, surreal quality of Taiyo Matsumoto’s writing even better than the animated version of Tekkonkinkreet.

This review originally appeared at PopCultureShock on 8/28/07.

Filed Under: Manga Critic, Movies & TV, REVIEWS Tagged With: Ai Yazawa, love*com, nana, Ping Pong, Taiyo Matsumoto, VIZ Pictures

Now You’re One of Us

August 3, 2011 by Katherine Dacey

Noriko, the young heroine of Asa Nonami’s Now You’re One of Us, initially thinks she’s hit the marriage jackpot. Not only are her in-laws wealthy and well regarded by their neighbors, they’re also quick to embrace her as a member of the family. Her husband Kazuhito is handsome and utterly devoted; her mother-in-law Kimie, generous and uncritical; and her sister-in-law Ayano, solicitous to everyone in the household, including Kazuhito’s oddly child-like brother Takehami. Even the Shito matriarch, ninety-eight-year-old Ei, welcomes Noriko to the clan by declaring her the family’s “treasure” and “future.”

Shortly after Noriko arrives at the Shitos’ Tokyo home, a strange, slightly disheveled neighbor approaches her while she works in the garden. Though Kimie is quick to dismiss him as a troubled tenant who’s fallen on hard times, Noriko can’t shake the feeling that the neighbor was about to divulge something damning — a feeling intensified by his mysterious death in a fire several days later. The Shitos’ oddly muted, impersonal response to his death further arouses Noriko’s suspicion, as do the family’s clandestine midnight meetings. Though the Shitos offer reasonable, measured responses to Noriko’s inquiries, she begins wondering if the Shitos run an illicit business… or worse.

Thanks to a fluid translation by Michael and Mitsuko Valek, Asa Nonami’s simple, unfussy prose draws the reader into Noriko’s insular world, showing us how a simple girl from a working class family is lured into the Shitos’ web. In this passage, for example, Nonami reveals Kazuhito to be a deft manipulator, appealing to Noriko’s vanity by suggesting that Ei’s endorsement carries special significance:

“Great Granny’s been watching people for ninety-eight years — she can see through them at a glance, so lots of people in the neighborhood come to ask her for advice.” He explained how delighted he was that Great Granny had taken a liking to her; it showed that he hadn’t been blinded by attraction. He felt like the luckiest man in the world for having found someone of whom his family approved.

Unfortunately, Nonami is never content to let a passage like this one stand alone; she feels compelled to explain how Kazuhito’s words swayed Noriko by telling us exactly what Noriko is thinking at the moment he gives this speech. The obviousness of Noriko’s interior monologues is especially frustrating; Nonami does a competent job of revealing her characters’ motivations and feelings through their actions without resorting to such editorial interventions.

The other drawback to Nonami’s storytelling is that she begins telegraphing the ending just a few chapters into the book. Savvier readers will quickly figure out what the Shitos’ secret is — and it’s a doozy — though they probably won’t mind wading through another hundred pages to have their ickiest suspicions confirmed, especially since Nonami manages a few surprises in the final pages.

The bottom line: Now You’re One of Us is an entertaining, atmospheric potboiler that’s probably best read in the privacy of one’s own home.

This review originally appeared at PopCultureShock on 2/8/08.

NOW YOU’RE ONE OF US • BY ASA NONAMI, TRANSLATED BY MICHAEL AND MITSUKO VALEK • VERTICAL, INC. • 240 pp.

Filed Under: Books, Manga Critic, REVIEWS Tagged With: Mystery/Suspense, Novel, Vertical Comics

Negima! Magister Negi Magi, Vol. 30

August 1, 2011 by Sean Gaffney

By Ken Akamatsu. Released in Japan as “Mahou Sensei Negima!” by Kodansha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics.

Everyone has heard of the phrase “it’s always darkest before the dawn”, and that proves to be true of Negima as well. Sadly, the dawn is not in this volume, which mostly brings our cast closer and closer to ‘the darkest’. Things fall apart, the center cannot hold…

When we left our heroes, we were in the middle of a big flashback telling the rest of the story of Negi’s mother and father. Having saved as many people as possible from a crushing death at the hands of the faceless bad guys, Arika is rewarded by being turned into a scapegoat and accused of the murder of her father and others in the name of ambition. It’s up to the others to rescue her… that is if she wants to be rescued. It has to be said that her rescue, and Nagi and Arika’s subsequent confessions, are one of the most heartwarming bits of the series, something which Akamatsu is clearly milking for all it’s worth, as he has several characters, including our current villain, tear up at it.

As a villain, Goedel’s not up to much. Sure, he can hold back Negi for a bit, but his crypticness just serves to annoy, and he reckons without the powers of Negi’s friends. Indeed, Chisame, Asakura and Nodoka all get great spotlights here, as we see that intelligent use of powers can get you far even if you aren’t a fighter. And, of course, we get the fighters as well, as Ku Fei shows up with her Monkey King Staff of Awesome.

And then the villains decide to attack… all of them. This means we have the palace guards coming to arrest Negi’s girls as conspirators (they don’t last long, especially once they start threatening Konoka in front of her protector…), as well as what appears to be Cthulhu. No, really, even Paru notes it. This proves much harder to battle as it starts ripping the palace into bits. So the new strategy is to get to the bottom of the palace and meet up there… but the goal is to avoid getting to the bottom the hard way.

Luckily, we have a few old friends showing up to help, who we knew were around but hadn’t actually seen for about 10 volumes. Takamichi manages to finish off the beatdown of Goedel, and notes that while he finds Negi’s desire to continue his father’s work dangerous, it also makes him quite happy. And then there’s Mana, who manages to be almost ludicrously good as she battles the random faceless Lovecraft monsters. Of course, that’s because fake!Asuna offers to pay her to do it… she had no interest in the innocents being killed otherwise (or so she says). Once again, Mana’s mercenary aspect is both amusing and disturbing. And Misora’s right, how DID she pull that bazooka from out of her cleavage? ^_-

Meanwhile, Negi Party are split further when a building cracks in half. Asakura almost falls to her death, but is saved by a surprisingly strong Nodoka… who’s then saved by her dungeon-crawling friends Craig and Aisha, who were worried about her and came back to help. (Asakura is quick to poke at Nodoka for attracting suitors, and also notes her new toughness.) So they’re safe! … for about 6 pages. Then The Lifemaker shows up. As with the rest of Fate’s team, he’s perfectly happy to fight any number of physically powerful types like Kaede or Setsuna, but wants Nodoka and her mind-reading removed from the board. So he attacks her, and Craig tries to defend… and gets vaporized into a spray of white feathers.

Now, given that he’s mysteriously vaporized into white feathers rather than, say, crushed into a pulpy mess, I suspect this is one of those many handy reversible deaths you seen in shonen all the time. Still, it’s plenty shocking given we haven’t really had ANY deaths in present-time Negima, and the last shot of the volume is Nodoka’s stunned face. After the relaxing kiss kiss carnival and political shenanigans of Volume 29, this one’s an action packed brawl, and it’s only going to get worse in Volume 31.

And there’s not even any fanservice this time! Well, not much…

Filed Under: REVIEWS

Kobato., Vols. 1-3

July 31, 2011 by Michelle Smith

By CLAMP | Published by Yen Press

The plot of Kobato. sounds like a typical shoujo magical girl story. A dim-witted and clumsy heroine, who also happens to be guileless and compassionate, is tasked with filling a magic bottle with wounded hearts so that her dearest wish can be granted. But Kobato. isn’t shoujo.

If anything, it’s seinen, as it ran for seven chapters in Sunday GX before going on hiatus and reemerging in Newtype magazine. I’m guessing that the target audience, presumed to be young men with an appreciation for moe, is the reason why Kobato commences flailing, chibified panic mode on page two and falls down approximately fifteen times per chapter. (I may be exaggerating there, but honestly not by much.) The latter gag is run into the ground so relentlessly that I refuse to consider that anyone finds it funny, so CLAMP must be trying to inspire feelings of “Aww, she’s so cute and/or hopeless.”

The first volume of Kobato. is not very good. Kobato’s incompetency grates as does the constant browbeating she receives from Ioryogi, some sort of supernatural being currently dwelling in the form of a stuffed dog, who is testing her ability to “act according to the common-sense rules of this place.” If she passes, she earns the magic bottle. These tests—mainly centered around holidays—include taking out the trash, making nabe, and spending New Year’s day playing traditional games with an elderly woman.

Things improve somewhat in the second volume. Kobato’s got her bottle now and is ready to heal some wounded hearts. After moving into the same apartment building seen in Chobits, she starts work as a helper at Yomogi Kindergarten. The head of the school, Sayako-sensei, seems to have a heart in need of some healing, as does her hard-working part-time employee, Fujimoto. With Ioryogi’s assistance, Kobato tries to discover how best to help them, and gradually learns that Sayako is working to pay off a debt her father was tricked into incurring, that Sayako’s soon-to-be-ex husband is threatening harm to the school unless she pays up, and that Fujimoto is working himself to the point of exhaustion to earn money to contribute. They seem suspicious of Kobato at first, but her genuine sincerity eventually wins over even grumpy Fujimoto.

This is definitely an improvement over the first volume, but the kindergarten-in-peril storyline still seems to be occupying a great deal of space in what looks to be only a six-volume series. (Kobato. just recently came to an end.) There is a lot of room left in Kobato’s bottle, so I wonder how she will end up filling it after spending so much time working on these two hearts in particular.

Now that I’ve finished my litany of complaints, there are some intriguing questions about Kobato. that leave me inclined to stick with the series until the end. Where is Kobato from, exactly? What is her wish? How did she and Ioryogi meet? What is Ioryogi? (We’ve learned already that if he helps Kobato grant her wish, he may be able to get his original body back.) And, most peculiarly of all, why is it that Kobato is not allowed to take off her hat?

Kindergarten peril I can do without, but I really do want to know what’s up with the hat thing.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Filed Under: REVIEWS Tagged With: clamp, yen press

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