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Papillon 2 by Miwa Ueda: B-

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Shy Ageha has long dwelled in the shadow of her beautiful and popular twin sister, Hana. With help from her school’s new guidance counselor, however, she’s begun to transform herself. In this volume, she reconciles with her mother after years of feeling that her parents preferred Hana and even moves on romantically when she realizes that her feelings for Ryûsei might not actually be love.

Papillon is a pretty fun series, and I definitely enjoy seeing family issues get some attention in a manga. The reconciliation between Ageha and her mother is a bit too easily achieved, but when’s the last time you saw a shojo manga heroine enjoy a nice warm hug with her mother? Not often, I’d wager.

On the negative side, I can’t help but feel that the actions of Ichijiku-san, the counselor, are incredibly inappropriate. He has groped Ageha a couple of times (apparently accidentally) and playfully made pretend advances upon her that would get him fired about a hundred times over in the real world. It takes me out of the story that he’s doing these things and is seemingly unconcerned about the occupational repercussions.

What I liked best about volume one—the relationship between Hana and her scheming sister—takes a backseat in this volume, but the way Hana lurks about looking furious as Ageha reconnects with her parents suggests there’ll be more sisterly strife in the future, which is all the reason I need to read on.

Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Musings on online identity

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Hello all. I’ve been nursing a severe case of crankiness with a side of the blues over the past couple of days which has made me a poor blogger. Hopefully this will soon pass.

There’s been a disturbing exchange going on in sci fi fandom recently, which I won’t get into here because everything useful has already been said (my favorite post is actually by a friend of mine, here, which also links to this astonishingly thorough nutshell), but something that has become a side-issue of sorts is the question of using pseudonyms on the internet, and whether doing so diminishes a person’s credibility or perhaps even negates it entirely. As a person who has interacted online both using a pseudonym and using my real name, I find this attitude perplexing at best. Names, after all, are loaded things, capable of both giving someone power and taking it away. Let me explain what I mean by that….

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Tokyo Babylon (Full Series)

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Hi hi, sorry for all the silence the past couple of days. I’d made a rule for myself that I wasn’t allowed to spend time on a blog post until I’d finished my Tokyo Babylon review, and I finally have! (Reprinted below following the demise of the blog Comics Should Be Good, for which it was originally written.) It’s pretty image-heavy and probably looks more like one of my persuasion posts than a typical review, but I thought I’d do something a little special for the full series. I’m a tad nervous about my new place over there, so if you have the time, please check out my review and let me know what you think!

Look for a real blog post later on. I have lots of thoughts swirling through my brain, and no time to write them down! Soon!

Tokyo Babylon (Complete Series) by CLAMP Published by TOKYOPOP

Originally created in 1991 by all-female mangaka group CLAMP, Tokyo Babylon tells the story of Subaru, the thirteenth head of the Sumeragi clan, a family of onmyoji (spiritual mediums and sorcerers) who have protected Japan for hundreds of years. Just sixteen years old as the series begins, quiet and unassuming, he is already an experienced and powerful onmyoji. He shares an apartment in Tokyo with his worldly, outgoing twin sister, Hokuto, who dresses him up like a doll in her hand-picked fashions. The two have become friendly with a local veterinarian, Seishiro Sakurazuka, whose surname suggests he is related to an infamous clan of magical assassins. Despite this sinister connection, Seishiro is mild-mannered, kind, cheerfully protective of the twins and repeatedly claims to be in love with Subaru, which draws enthusiastic support from Hokuto but embarrasses Subaru terribly.

Despite a cynical opening chapter and the series’ occult premise, the story gets off to a fairly light start and it would be easy to dismiss it as stylish fluff. By the end of the first volume, however, darkness begins to push toward the surface in the form of an old memory that causes Subaru to suspect there may be more to Seishiro than what he claims. This uneasiness hovers in the background for much of the series (only manifesting fully in the final volume), but as it slowly seeps into the fabric of the story it highlights the peculiar depth and Shinto-influenced ideology that has long characterized CLAMP’s work.

As Subaru performs his missions as an onmyoji, he encounters many sad or lonely people, some of them alive, some not. One early story, for instance, involves a childhood friend of Subaru’s who has fallen into a perpetual dream state in an effort to escape her traumatic waking life. Another features the ghost of a failed actress whose love-hate relationship with the city has kept her bound to the main observation deck of Tokyo Tower. In another, Subaru befriends an old man who has spent years of his life fulfilling a promise to his late wife, desperate to complete it so that he may finally join her.

In one particularly poignant story, Subaru encounters a woman who is determined to place a curse on the man who murdered her young daughter, Mai. Subaru urges the woman to abandon revenge both for her own sake and her daughter’s, and even calls upon Mai’s spirit so that she can tell her mother what she truly wishes her to do. However, instead of angelically entreating her mother to stop, Mai arrives crying in pain, begging her mother to avenge her, something which Subaru finds himself wholly unable to convey.

The primary message CLAMP drives home in Tokyo Babylon is that no person can ever truly understand another person’s pain, and that the kindest thing people can do for themselves and each other is to recognize and embrace that fact. Interestingly, the character who seems to understand this best is Subaru, though he is also the person who most often tries, as he strives desperately to ease others’ pain while generally ignoring his own. Despite his formidable spiritual powers, Subaru leads an oddly passive existence, dutifully fulfilling his calling as directed, though his personality is obviously ill-suited for the job. He works tirelessly and without complaint, his naturally compassionate nature allowing humanity’s darkest corners to erode his seemingly incorruptible heart.

Seishiro’s steady pursuit of teenaged Subaru alternates between being sweetly good-humored and intensely creepy, and for those who find the concept disturbing, be assured that the dramatic payoff is well worth it. As hinted early on, Seishiro is indeed more than he seems, though the full truth about him is not revealed until very late in the series. None of the primary characters in Tokyo Babylon is especially transparent or easily placed into manga stereotypes. Each is multi-layered and idiosyncratic, and each lends something unique to this quirky, shadowy tale.

Though Subaru and Seishiro tend to dominate the pages of most volumes, it is Hokuto who is the story’s unexpected gem. Fun and breezy, she initially seems interested in little besides in keeping Subaru dressed up in elaborately assembled outfits and nudging him toward Seishiro. As the story progresses, however, her real depth begins to show, and she eventually proves herself to be strong, compassionate, and kind of a bad-ass. It also becomes clear that her world is dominated by her devotion to her brother. “I wanted you to have something you would love so much, that you wouldn’t care what others thought,” she says to Subaru late in the series, as his world is unraveling around him. “Something you wouldn’t change your mind about. It didn’t matter what it was. I just wanted you to have something like that.”

Despite the series’ many strengths, Tokyo Babylon is far from perfect. Its episodic setup leaves too much room for unevenness and blunder, and it takes several volumes for CLAMP to successfully establish the story’s real tone, which means the series does not really come into its own until volume four. Still, getting there is well worth the effort, and not just because Tokyo Babylon is a great read (though it is). This series also provides an opportunity to delve into early incarnations of the themes and ideas that have come to define CLAMP’s diverse body of work. The selfishness of self-sacrifice, the murky quality of “good” and “evil,” the pain of loneliness, the necessity of wanting to exist–CLAMP uses Tokyo Babylon to explore these ideas to the full extent of their skills at the time, and everything that begins here is carried through their later work, one way or another. This is not to suggest that they are stealing from themselves or just repeating ideas (though they do like to reuse their characters). This is simply the natural evolution of ideas as they progress from one series to the next, finally reaching maturity in xxxHolic, a series which remains ongoing both here and in Japan.

With its beautiful, clean imagery and striking use of black, Tokyo Babylon is unmistakably CLAMP’s work, though again, it doesn’t show the maturity of their later work, or even X/1999 which began its run before Tokyo Babylon was completed. As early as this work is, however, the visual storytelling is extremely effective, with the same intuitive panel layouts and creative use of space that makes all of CLAMP’s work both a pleasure to look at and easy to read. The artwork shines in black and white, capturing perfectly the stark drama and lurking melancholy of the series, and the story’s seven volumes feel truly epic, largely on the strength of its visuals.

TOKYOPOP’s English language editions, released between 2004 and 2005, are very nicely done, with crisply reproduced artwork and fold-out color pages at the beginning of most volumes. This series, like much of CLAMP’s work, is unmistakably Japanese, deeply tied to its Tokyo setting and to Japanese culture in general. TOKYOPOP preserves this by retaining honorifics and sound-effects (with translations in the back), using Japanese name order (surname first), and keeping as many Japanese terms and cultural references as possible within the translation. The detailed glossaries at the back of each volume provide context and explanation for western readers.

For fans of CLAMP’s newer work, Tokyo Babylon provides a glimpse into the group’s past which will be both compelling and familiar. For new readers, it is a great introduction to the CLAMP universe, in all its complex beauty.

The Name of the Flower 1 by Ken Saito: A-

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When Chouko Mizushima was in her first year of high school, she lost both parents in a traffic accident. The shock and grief left her unable to speak and she was shuffled around amongst various relatives before finally ending up with her father’s cousin, the reclusive and cold-seeming author, Kei. Kei sets some conditions for living with him that include tending to his decrepit garden. As Chouko cares for the plants and flowers, her heart slowly begins to mend. She credits Kei with spurring her to shake off the darkness of her grief with her own two hands, not realizing just how much her presence has affected him in return.

The first adjective that comes to mind to describe The Name of the Flower is “quiet.” Although it has its funny moments, the overall feel is serene, focusing on small moments of interaction between the lead characters rather than intense drama. One way in which it accomplishes this is through the story structure. I had been expecting that the story would begin with Chouko moving in with Kei, but actually, it begins after she’s been living with him for two years. Gradually, over a series of flashbacks from both Chouko and Kei, we see not only how they were then but also how they have changed because of each other. I found this to be a very eloquent way of getting the point across.

Kei’s garden also plays a big part in the series. Not only is Chouko’s transformation of the neglected garden into a thing of beauty indicative of her own painful journey, but it also symbolizes the gradual thawing of Kei’s heart. He had been known for very dark literary works before taking Chouko in, but his latest novel is actually a love story based on his life with her.

After reading the novel, Chouko asks Kei about it, but he cowardly claims it isn’t based on reality. Therefore, she doesn’t know that he has romantic feelings for her and he can’t believe that her love for him is real, thinking instead that it’s “more like a newborn chick following its mother.” I thought this was an interesting way to deal with the age difference (twelve years) between them. Although Chouko is technically an adult now, Kei feels she hasn’t experienced enough to know what real love is, and thinks it’d be unfair to saddle her with his unworthy self when she might be able to find someone else who could make her really happy. This makes me like him for not only his maturity but also the angsty possibilities of a hero with an inferiority complex.

Saito’s art works well with the story, though the character designs are rather familiar. Kei is the bespectacled kimono-wearing author, Akiyama (Kei’s editor) is so bland-looking I can’t even describe him, and Chouko occasionally bears a distracting resemblance to Asami from High School Debut. I really like the chibi art, though; it’s very cute.

If a calm love story sounds intriguing, or you’re a fan of CMX’s other shojo offerings, then you might want to check out this series. It’s also short, at four volumes total, if that’s any incentive.

The Name of the Flower was serialized in LaLa DX and is four volumes long. Volume one is available now and volume two will be released on May 19, 2009.

Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Ode to Google

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I realize this is hideously mainstream of me, but… wow, I love Google. I’m not talking about the search engine (though I love that too). Lately I’ve become so dependent on a few of their web applications, I am not sure how I got by without them all this time.

1. Google Reader: I have talked about this before, but seriously, Google Reader is solely responsible for my ability to keep up with what the rest of you are talking about every day. In the beginning, I actually used to just click things one by one from my blogroll, and when that eventually proved to be too cumbersome, I switched to using Safari to collect RSS feeds. But Google Reader… oh, Google Reader… it allows me to keep track of exactly what I’ve read and what is new from any of the three computers I use regularly, eliminating the need to add feeds to three different browsers or to waste time with things I’ve already seen. I’m also able to organize my subscribed feeds into different categories, such as “manga/comics” and “friends” to facilitate more focused reading. Google Reader, I love you.

2. Google Docs: It’s gotten to the point where I write basically everything in Google Docs, because it allows me to (again) access whatever I’m working on from multiple locations. It auto-saves every few minutes, which is awesome, and also allows me to share documents with others, for instance if I want someone to look something over for me, or if I want to collaborate on a document with another person (or multiple people). Yes, I still save copies of really important items to my hard drive (actually to more than one), but the fact that I no longer have to remember to carry a USB key with me everywhere I go is seriously awesome.

3. Google Calendar: This is a new addition for me, but boy has it become quickly indispensable! I use Google Calendar to keep track of important manga release dates, as well as all of my (largely self-imposed) review deadlines, for Manga Recon, Comics Should Be Good, and even here! I’m a person who works best if I have a firm deadline, so I tend to set them and stick to them almost 100% of the time. Also, I’m a fast reader but a very slow writer, so laying out my deadlines in a visual form helps me better understand and manage my time. Google Calendar lets me have a different color-coded calendar for each of these categories, which I can view all at once to see everything that I have coming up at a glance. Again, I can access this from any computer, and share each calendar with other users as desired.

Thus concludes my ode to Google applications. The day Google starts charging money for these things is the day I become a weeping puddle of goo. Let’s hope that day does not arrive soon.

North Korea Kidnapped My Daughter

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By Sakie Yokota
Vertical, 192 pp.

In 1977, middle school student Megumi Yokota disappeared on her way home from school in the coastal city of Niigata, Japan. Despite massive efforts on the part of the community and the local police, Megumi’s disappearance was never solved. It was years later that Megumi’s parents finally received information leading them to believe that she, like several other Japanese citizens known of at the time, had been abducted by North Korean agents. It was not until 2002 that North Korea officially admitted to the abductions, but question remains over whether or not Megumi is still alive, leaving her family without resolution or relief.

Written by Megumi’s mother, Sakie Yokota, North Korea Kidnapped My Daughter is by no means a highly polished work of nonfiction. As a writer, Yokota tends to dwell too much on details while letting some of the larger questions out of her grasp, and the last few chapters start to feel repetitive as she reaches for an ending that does not exist. What this book definitely is, however, is a stunningly moving story of loss and a life lived in perpetual uncertainty.

The book begins with the Yokota family’s move from Hiroshima to Niigata, chronicling Megumi’s disappearance and its aftermath, and ending with a heartwrenching appeal to the Japanese government for help. Interestingly, what is most touching about this story is not how Megumi’s fate was tragically altered at the hands of North Korean agents, but rather how her disappearance affected her mother’s life and the life of her family. Stories of missing children are shockingly common in the news today, and of course they capture the hearts of all who hear about them. What it is easy to forget, however, when the trails of evidence have gone cold and the stories have faded from the headlines, is how every day forward is forever changed for those left behind. That Megumi’s life was ruthlessly hijacked is undeniable, but so, too, was her mother’s, whose years since the abduction have been under the control of the North Korean government just as surely as Megumi’s.

Yokota’s memories of her daughter contain the kind of intense detail that can only exist when something has been thought through and examined thousands of times over, and it is easy to imagine her determination to hang on to each tiny bit of memory, knowing that there may be no more. Yokota’s carefully kind tone toward anyone who has ever been involved in Megumi’s case is both moving and somehow painful, as is her painstaking effort to thank every person who has ever helped her or sent her hopeful wishes for Megumi’s return. Her campaign to retrieve her daughter, unwavering even in the face of government resistance, is truly inspirational. Still, what inspires the deepest heartache and outrage in the reader is the loss of Yokota’s own life to a potentially hopeless search. That neither the Japanese government nor anyone else has been able to bring about the return of Megumi or at least determine some clear resolution regarding her fate is maddening, as is Yokota’s powerlessness in the situation.

If there is one unfortunate thing about this memoir, it is that it was originally published in 1999, before North Korea’s admission to the kidnapping, which means much of the information now known about Megumi’s case was not addressed in her mother’s writings. To help bring things up-to-date, Vertical has added a brief note and a multi-page timeline at the end of the book, which includes things like the discovery of Megumi’s marriage in North Korea, and the North Korean government’s claim regarding her supposed death, but the timeline is awkward to follow, and without Yokota’s voice, the information feels empty.

Regardless of its few shortcomings as a written work, North Korea Kidnapped My Daughter is an extremely moving and heartbreaking story that deserves great attention from readers.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

Mushishi, Vol. 6

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I have a cool announcement! About a month ago, Brian Cronin at Comics Should Be Good (home of Danielle Leigh and sometimes host to Michelle Smith) asked me if I’d like to be an occasional contributor to the site, like Michelle. I jumped up and down in an undignified manner and said I would like to very much. Today my first contribution has been posted! Behold my review for Mushishi, volume 6 (reprinted here after the demise of CSBG) which will be a part of my new, occasional series, “Tokidoki Daylight” (meaning “sporadic daylight,” TokiDay for short). Many thanks to Michelle and Grace for helping me decide on the name. I’m pretty thrilled to have been offered this opportunity, as I’m sure you can imagine. So go on over and see! :D

Mushishi, Vol. 6 By Yuki Urushibara

Published by Del Rey Manga

Called “verdancy” or “the green things” by some, mushi are primordial beings close to the original forms of life. They live in every corner of the world, in many different forms, though few humans are ever able to perceive them. Some who can see mushi learn to make a living by it. These people are called “mushishi.”

Mushishi chronicles the experiences of a traveling mushishi named Ginko, who has wandered alone for most of his life, studying and working with different kinds of mushi. Because mushi are so far removed from human life, both mushi and humans frequently affect each other in unintended (often devastating) ways. Mushishi seek out places in which coexistence has turned to conflict, and use their study of mushi to restore balance to the human world. What is unique about Ginko is that unlike most mushishi, he attempts to do so without killing mushi.

Volume six begins with one of the most poignant stories of the series so far. “Heaven’s Thread” tells the tale of a young woman named Fuki, who disappears after grabbing onto a string she finds hanging from the sky. Ginko discovers her lost in the mountains and returns Fuki to her village, where she is greeted with hostility by everyone except Seijiro, who wishes to make Fuki his wife. Because of Fuki’s experience, she has taken on mushi attributes herself, which could cause her to float away again at any time. Ginko is able to treat her with medicine, but most importantly, she must want to be human again, a task entrusted to Seijiro.

What’s extraordinary about Mushishi is the way in which mangaka Yuki Urushibara uses stories of non-human entities to more deeply explore the complexity and inconsistency of humanity. Though Fuki’s condition is caused by interaction with mushi, she is dependent on Seijiro’s human feelings and actions for her existence. This juxtaposition of simple, survival-driven mushi alongside complicated, egotistical humanity makes it clear just how unreliable humans can be.

Other stories in this volume include those of a mushi whose faint cry foretells natural disaster, a man whose infection by mushi gives him the ability to control other animals, a boy who lives in an eternal snow shower, and a man whose family’s famous sake is astonishingly similar to Kôki, the essence of life. Yet, despite the stories’ supernatural premise, with Ginko at the center, humanity is always at the fore.

As a person who naturally attracts mushi, Ginko’s can’t live with other humans without eventually causing them harm, so he must remain on the move, never allowing himself to get attached to other people or to truly become one of them. This is Ginko’s great tragedy, for despite the fact that he shares at least as much in common with mushi as he does with other humans, he is deeply bound to his own humanity. It is his humanity, with all its inherent chaos and contradiction, that guides him on his journey and makes his story interesting. Perpetually faced with the question of whether/how to sacrifice mushi for the sake of humans, Ginko struggles constantly with his choices, never knowing for sure if he is doing the right thing.

In volume six, Ginko’s frustration with the choices made by people who are able to have what he can’t is palpable. Seijiro’s inability to accept Fuki in her half-mushi state, a man’s reluctance to give up a destructive power, another man’s inability to forgive even for the sake of his own daughter–all these people alienating themselves and others by choice is understandably maddening to someone who must remain alone against his will. It is in these moments, however, when Ginko’s own feelings emerge unbidden, that he is most effective in his calling.

Mushishi‘s setting in rural Japan, somewhere between the Edo and Meiji eras, gives the series a simple, naturalistic feel, with the otherworldly quality of the mushi laid over it like a sheer film. Urushibara’s artwork reflects this sensibility perfectly, with its sketchy landscapes and simply dressed characters. Ginko, like the mushi, exists as a specter in the human landscape, in his modern, western clothing that somehow attracts no notice from anyone around him.

Though Del Rey’s production of Mushishi is top-notch overall, the greatest service they have done to this series is their choice of William Flanagan as translator. This means that not only is the story’s English dialogue exceptionally coherent, expressive and rife with subtlety, but that each volume contains Flanagan’s extensive notes in the back, giving the reader further insight into both the intricacies of the Japanese language and the author’s choices.

With its episodic nature, it is possible to pick up any volume of Mushishi as an introduction to the series, and volume six offers several very strong stories that could be easily enjoyed even without a deeper understanding of the universe as a whole. For those seeking a richer experience, each of the first six volumes is highly recommendable. In either case, Urushibara’s world is a unique and fascinating place which provides an immensely satisfying read.

Fairy Tail 5 by Hiro Mashima: B

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From the back cover:
Gray’s old training companion Reitei Lyon is trying to revive a calamity demon, but doing so will make their former master’s sacrifice meaningless! What’s the secret of Gray’s past, and why does he keep taking off his clothing? Gray is revealed (metaphorically speaking) in this pivotal volume!

Review:
You know, there are things one sees in Fairy Tail that one is simply not going to see in any other manga. I’m talking about stuff like a gigantic flying rat carrying a bucket of poisonous jelly and a cow-man squaring off against a malicious tree. Sometimes, things are so cracktastic that one just has to admire them.

I actually liked this volume more than the last one, perhaps because I’ve moved past the foolishness of their embarking upon a quest that could get them expelled from the guild and become invested instead in their successful completion of the task at hand. The variety of magical abilities continues to be one of the most enjoyable parts for me, and I’m particularly glad to see Lucy’s skills increase in this volume. She’s by no means a match for Natsu or Gray magically, but both of them would have their butts handed to them by Erza, so there isn’t any annoying gender inequality going on.

Well, not in the realm of combat, anyway. There’s certainly a lot of fanservice in this volume, mostly on the chapter splash pages. In one of them, Lucy is wearing a sleeveless t-shirt that is held up by ginormous boobs and a prayer. The most egregious example, however, is an image of Erza wielding a sword while dressed in a négligée. Lucy’s garb is at least in character. Erza’s definitely is not.

We also learn more about Gray’s backstory, and I’m impressed with how deftly the flashbacks are woven in with the fighting in the present moment. It manages to be seamless but yet not confusing. I think partly this was achieved through pacing, as a little bit of information would be revealed at a time and when it seemed like the right time to switch back to the present, it would. The backstory itself isn’t much to get excited over, but the mechanics of it are really well done.

The Magic Touch, Vol. 1

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magictouch1By Izumi Tsubaki
Viz, 208 pp.
Rating: T+ (Older Teen)

Chiaki Togu is a shy, quiet high school girl and an enthusiastic member of her school’s massage club, the Massage Research Society. Recently, she has become infatuated by the back of a male student she sees on the bus every morning whose tsubo (acupuncture points) cry out to her for massage. Unfortunately, the back belongs to Yosuke Moriizumi, the most popular boy in school. Though initially refusing Chiaki’s request to massage him, Yosuke eventually agrees to allow it, but only if Chiaki is able to make him fall in love with her. What Chiaki doesn’t know is that Yosuke’s real plan is to make her fall in love with him so that he can dump her, thus avenging his younger brother whose heart he believes was broken by Chiaki. What Yosuke doesn’t know is that the girl who really broke her brother’s heart was Chiaki’s twin sister, Sayaka, who has a habit of taking boys for all they’re worth and leaving Chiaki as the scapegoat.

The story works well enough, and the focus on massage is definitely something new, but what’s odd about The Magic Touch is that it continuously presents plot points that seem intended to provide conflict or suspense which are then resolved with little or no difficulty at all. For instance, Yosuke’s status as the owner of the alluring back is set up as a big mystery, only to be revealed just several pages into the volume. The mistaken-identity issue driving Yosuke’s intentions toward Chiaki is resolved less than halfway through the volume, with Yosuke immediately seeing through Sayaka’s sleazy maneuvers. And the arrangement between Yosuke and Chiaki, which initially appears to be the main point of the entire series, is over very quickly as Yosuke sincerely declares his love just a few chapters in. On one hand, all this makes the story less predictable than might be expected, but on the other, it’s difficult to see where it has left to go with all its major conflicts resolved so early on.

One of the highlights of The Magic Touch is a mid-volume side story, “Teach Me, Prince,” in which an older member of the massage club, Takeshi (who is actually Chiaki’s brother), asks first-year Yuna to teach him how to court a girl. This story actually is pretty predictable, but it’s funny and fun, and possibly more romantic than the primary story in some ways. Takeshi and Yuna are also two of the most interesting characters in the book, overshadowing some of the leads. Yosuke is clever and good-looking, but doesn’t really start to show any character until late in the volume. Sayaka is ludicrously cruel, to the point of being unbelievable. Fortunately, the most interesting character is the heroine, Chiaki, whose obsession with massage is responsible for the best moment in the entire manga, in which she takes down a group of Sayaka’s thugs, declaring, “Tsubo points don’t always make people feel better.”

Izumi Tsubaki’s art is serviceable, but nothing special. None of her characters are visually distinctive (though they all look pleasant) and the panel layouts are occasionally awkward. Her best moments are humorous ones, which may explain why Yuna (who is mainly utilized in those moments) is drawn more expressively than most of the other characters. A note from the author reveals that this is her first manga, so perhaps the next volume will offer more both visually and otherwise.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

Fushigi Yûgi: Genbu Kaiden, Vol. 7

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By Yuu Watase
Viz, 210 pp.
Rating: T+ (Older Teen)

Set as a prequel to Yuu Watase’s classic shojo series, Fushigi Yûgi: Genbu Kaiden follows the story of the first priestess of the Fushigi Yûgi universe, Takiko Okuda. When Takiko’s long-absent father returns home too late to save her dying mother, Takiko is determined to tear her father away from the work that alienated him from his family—the translation of a Chinese text, “The Universe of the Four Gods.” As she attempts to destroy the book, she is instead sucked into its story, where she becomes the Priestess of Genbu, who must bring together the seven celestial warriors to save the new world she has become a part of. Feeling rejected by those she left behind, Takiko quickly embraces her new destiny, discovering both her own strengths and a place for herself in a world where she feels truly needed for the first time in her life.

In volume six, the fearsome Hagus was revealed to be one-half of the final celestial warrior, Urumiya. Hoping to save Uruki from being murdered by Hagus’ hand, Takiko vowed to rescue his twin brother, Teg (Urumiya’s other half), who has been kept captive his whole life by Uruki’s father, King Temdan. In this volume, Takiko and Uruki’s vassal, Soren, must escape Hagus and King Temdan’s troops, while the warriors face down fire, bandits, and the Qu-Dong army. Everyone seems doomed to be apart from those most important to them, including poor little stone warrior Namame whose head is still separated from his body. Takiko and her warriors are eventually reunited, but only after one of their group makes a horrifying sacrifice.

This is an intensely emotional volume that shows off all the best elements of this series. The chapters are action-packed, but none of it is remotely superfluous. Every moment is meaningful, and there is not a single unnecessary word or gesture in the entire volume. Up until now, the story had been a well-written adventure and a satisfying romance, but this volume really demonstrates the maturity of Watase’s writing at this point in her career. The intensity of the relationships feels natural and well earned, and even the less-developed characters are rich enough at this point to carry off some deeply emotional moments.

Visually, this volume is especially strong as well. The battle scenes achieve a clarity that was lacking in some of the earlier volumes, and the faces and body language of Watase’s characters are more expressive than ever. It is a testament to Watase’s strengths as a visual storyteller that even the expression on the face of a character who is literally made of stone is enough to bring tears to the eyes.

With its strong, compassionate heroine and eclectic cast of supporting characters, Fushigi Yûgi: Genbu Kaiden brings the best elements of the world of Fushigi Yûgi to a new generation of manga fans.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

Ouran High School Host Club 11 by Bisco Hatori: B+

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Eleven volumes in, things are still pretty much where they started with this series. Haruhi is still concealing her gender and participating in the Host Club, Tamaki is still ignorant of his feelings for her, and characters like Mori and Hunny haven’t changed a bit. This volume finds the gang competing in a sports festival that Tamaki has orchestrated in an attempt to spur Kyoya to compete passionately over something that yields him no personal benefit.

Ouran High School Host Club walks a fine line between comedy and plot progression and, honestly, dwells on the humorous side of the divide most of the time. When it does visit the other side, however, the results can be surprisingly gratifying. While many of the characters have been stuck in the same places for a while, the same cannot be said of the Hitachin brothers. Originally a pair of practically interchangeable pranksters, they have matured significantly and are now distinct individuals. Kaoru has been aware for some time that both he and his brother have feelings for Haruhi, and when Hikaru finally catches on, it makes for some great scenes between them.

The comedy is sometimes funny and sometimes not, but the more serious elements are always a hit with me. It’s for moments like that that I continue to read this series.

Review originally published at Manga Recon.

The Palette of 12 Secret Colors 4 by Nari Kusakawa: B+

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This is the story of Cello, an aspiring Palette or “color magician,” who has had to repeat her first year of training school because her abilities are a bit different than those of her fellow students. The Palette of 12 Secret Colors is a very episodic series, and this volume is no exception. On the agenda are a separation from her avian partner that prompts Cello to strive to be her best, a rampaging drunken ostrich, and a swimming competition.

I’m not a fan of episodic tales in general, but Kusakawa manages to incorporate modest development for her lead characters and their relationship even while hijinks are ensuing. Over the course of the previous volumes, Dr. Guell (the school doctor) has helped Cello out on numerous occasions and now secretly harbors romantic feelings for her. The episodic nature of the story contrives to put the two of them together, occasionally in ridiculous situations, but also provides the opportunity for many warm and fuzzy moments. The final scene between them in volume four is anything but ridiculous or fuzzy, however, and may be just what Cello needs to finally begin to see the stoic doctor in a new light.

That said, this story is certainly progressing at a leisurely pace for one with only two volumes left. I can’t help but wish for a more dramatic storyline or more tangible evidence of Cello’s progressing skills. Aww-inspiring it may be, but it’s currently too mellow to generate anything akin to awe.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

The Palette of 12 Secret Colors 3 by Nari Kusakawa: B

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From the back cover:
Cello meets Fenne, a fellow Palette-in-training who’s been having problems with his abilities ever since his bird-partner died. Despite his sarcastic attitude, Cello is determined to both help him find a suitable new bird and to become his friend. Then Olga—Dr. Guell’s jealous bird—decides that Cello is taking up way too much of Dr. Guell’s time. So now she’s determined to make sure that Cello quickly completes her Palette training.

Review:
Just as I was wishing to know more about Cello’s progress, she makes a remark in one chapter about how she has cleared “about half” of the first twelve colors. That’s a step in the right direction, I suppose.

Unfortunately, none of the stories in this volume really do much for me, though none is bad or anything. A new character, Fenne, is introduced and ropes Cello into helping him adapt one of the migratory birds that visit the island to be his new partner. At first he mocks her for having to repeat her first year, but comes to like her, which bothers Dr. Guell, who is coming to realize that Cello occupies his thoughts rather a lot.

The story with Olga serving as Cello’s tutor misses the mark for amusing and instead ventures into the territory of “too silly for me.” The same can be said for the chapter in which Cello’s father pursues an outrageously ridiculous plan of making up with his wife, with whom he’s had a fight. About the only one I really like is the one about Cello’s birthday, and how Dr. Guell sweetly buys her a present. Not only that, he’s clearly paid enough attention to her to know exactly what kind of present she would like best.

The relationship between Dr. Guell and Cello is the most interesting thing about the series at the moment, but I do rather wish for a more serialized story line. This is the halfway point of the series and though it’s very pleasant and guaranteed to foster some warm fuzzies, it feels like something more should be happening by now.

The Palette of 12 Secret Colors 2 by Nari Kusakawa: B+

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From the back cover:
It’s Christmas time on the island of Opal, and a visiting young Prince introduces holiday traditions to its residents. What could be more festive than the powers of the color wizards unleashed upon the season? But Dr. Guell is jealous of the relationship between the Prince and Cello and adds a sour note to the happy celebration. Then, find out more about Cello’s family and learn how she first bonded with Yoyo, her very special bird.

Review:
The episodic adventures continue in this volume, including a story about a visiting prince with a predictable secret, the tale of how Cello first met Yoyo, and a chapter about Cello’s family and her dad’s attempts to get some kind of facial expression out of terminally cool Dr. Gruell. Each of the episodes has something amusing about it, or some particular insight on character, but some are also a bit dull; I’m already kind of tired of seeing the triplet little girls turn up again and again.

The second story is my favorite, and not just because of Yoyo’s cuteness, though I suppose that is a factor. Mostly, though, I like it for the continuity. In an offhand remark in volume one, Cello mentions that she used to like climbing trees until she fell from one, and now she’s afraid of heights. This chapter includes that incident. It’s a minor thing, but I’m happy to see the seeds for it planted in advance.

While the current story structure is not short on charm, I still keep wanting this to be like a shounen manga somehow, with Cello acquiring mastery of new colors and her progression in skill clearly mapped. So far, she has improved enough to do well on a mid-term exam, but that’s sort of nebulous; the idea of knowing exactly how many of the twelve colors she can control and how many she has left has definite appeal.

The Palette of 12 Secret Colors 1 by Nari Kusakawa: A-

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From the back cover:
On the island of Opal live the world’s most colorful birds. The birds have attracted a school for aspiring “Palettes”—wizards who have the ability to borrow color from one object and paint its qualities on to another. Young Cello has the potential to be a great Palette, but she just can’t seem to control her power. As the end of freshman year approaches she’s on the verge of failing, so she’s going to need all the help her bird Yoyo can provide.

Review:
This is the story of Cello, a sixteen-year-old studying to be a Palette, or artisan with the power to control colors. It seems like a silly skill to have, but the volume shows different ways in which it can be useful. Cello is smart and aces the written assignments, but her practical abilities need work: she has the unique ability to manipulate color from a distance, but not the fine control required to craft the fine goods that fetch high prices from outsiders. Her problems with control result in her being splattered with color pretty frequently, requiring multiple visits to the infirmary to see the young school doctor, Dr. Guell.

In the chapters that follow, she and Guell foil two separate attempts to steal the village’s precious birds and also supply some fun for some little girls’ birthday. It’s true that these adventures are episodic, but they really don’t feel that way because they’re not pointless. In the wrong hands, I’d dislike the chapter with the random little girls, but Kusakawa uses it to reveal details about Guell’s background as well as to illustrate what a kind person Cello is.

I also like that romance is not the focus of the story. Cello has definite goals that she’s working towards and acquiring a boyfriend is not among them. That said, there are a few subtle moments that hint that she and Guell are starting to at least admire and appreciate one another.

What I love most, however, is Yoyo, Cello’s bird. I love Koh from Silver Diamond because he talks and is amusing, but a lot of Yoyo’s cuteness is because he is silent. He’s clearly intelligent, but must get his point across mutely. One of the most endearing things he does is kick Cello (cutely, I swear) every time she thinks or says something self-pitying or overly self-critical. I heart him.

Kusakawa’s distinctive artistic style is the same here as in Two Flowers for the Dragon, and I find it quite appealing, though the evolution of Dr. Guell’s appearance between the beginning and end of the volume is pretty major. It’s interesting how different the settings are for the two stories—Two Flowers is set in an oasis in the middle of a desert, while Palette takes place on a semi-tropical island, complete with palm trees and lush vegetation. Also, I really, really love the covers to this series. So much, in fact, that I’m gonna have to link to them. There’s an online preview at that site as well, if your curiosity is at all piqued.

The Palette of 12 Secret Colors is published by CMX. Four volumes have been released so far, with the fifth due on February 18, 2009. The series recently ended serialization in Japan and is complete at six volumes.