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Mijeong

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mijeongI have a new review over at Manga Recon this morning featuring Byun Byung-Jun’s Mijeong, a collection of short manhwa with a decidedly melancholy tone. This is the artist’s second published anthology and though the work still feels immature, it is clearly something special. For my full thoughts on the subject, read my review, but I’ll share here the last sentence which really sums up my feelings about this work. “Simultaneously dark and hopeful, Mijeong’s inconsistency and fretful tone may betray the early weaknesses of its creator, but its insight and uncommon beauty promise much greater things to come.”

I dearly hope that releases like this one will help push forward the publication of more and varied manhwa in English. Despite the medium’s 100 year history we still see so little of it here and I, for one, want much, much more!

Full House, Volume 1

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Full House, Vol. 1
By Sooyeon Won
Published by NETCOMICS

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Ellie is a young, independently-minded, Oxford educated screenwriter living in London, far from her native Korea, on an estate called Full House, left for her by her recently deceased father. Having given up on romance with her childhood friend Felix, who became frustrated with her lack of interest in a physical relationship, Ellie is content to live the life of a single career woman in the house she so loves. Her happy existence is disrupted, however, when she is evicted from the house by its new owner, scandal-ridden matinee idol, Ryder Baye. Following her eviction, Ellie lingers on a street corner, pondering her future and vowing to complete the screenplay she holds in her hands. A gust of wind blows the pages into the street, and as Ellie struggles to gather them up, her foot is run over by a passing car, the driver of which turns out to be none other than Ryder Baye.

With Ryder already embroiled in scandal, he and his handlers pamper Ellie in the hospital, hoping to keep the accident out of the news. In a burst of anger and desperation, Ellie suggests that Ryder marry her so that she can recover ownership of her home, an idea which–much to her surprise–is pounced upon eagerly by Ryder’s manager, Miranda, who is anxious to prove that Ryder is not gay. Finally agreeing to a false engagement with a guarantee she can return to Full House (which she will share with Ryder, whom she hates), Ellie begins her new life in the public eye, for better or worse.

Though the setup is classic and so far predictable, Full House has a number of things working strongly in its favor. First of all, Sooyeon Won is delightfully wordy, crafting pages of pithy banter between determined enemies Ellie and Ryder as well as long pieces of narration that read more like a novel than a comic. Though this is the same style responsible for the deliciously overwrought melodrama of her well-known boys’ love series, Let Dai, here it reads as stylish romance with a vintage theatrical feel. Ellie’s quick wit and sharp tongue make her an unconventionally appealing heroine, more interested in her career than her appearance or any other traditionally feminine concerns. Ryder is thoroughly enjoyable as her foil, whose only goals are to do his work and carry on his affairs without hassle. That he is especially drawn to the house that Ellie would do anything to keep gives them one piece of common ground, though this romantic comedy is guaranteed to be volatile for a good long time before either of them recognize it.

Another point in this series’ favor is NETCOMICS’ English adaptation, which reads surprisingly well, even capturing a genuinely British feel in the dialogue, something that is helped along significantly by the decorous third-person narration that accompanies much of the volume. Not having read any of the volumes of this series released by its former licensee, Central Park Media, I can’t compare the two, but considering NETCOMICS’ poor early track record with translation, it seems important to mention how nicely they’ve done with this series so far.

Sooyeon Woo’s art, though not as detailed or beautiful to look at as her work on Let Dai, has a light, sketchy feel that complements the breezy tone of the series, aided further by her playful paneling which keeps the pace brisk despite the abundance of dialogue. Both art and dialogue look clean and crisp in NETCOMICS’ online reader, even at its lower-resolution setting, and even the smallest text is readable against the series’ backgrounds, something that can’t be said for Let Dai.

Despite its questionably believable plot and obvious setup, this series has enough spark and energy behind it to easily propel readers into its second volume. Its fast-paced banter and classic romantic comedy feel make Full House an appealing new addition to NETCOMICS’ manhwa catalogue.

Volume one of Full House is available from NETCOMICS online.

Manga Artifacts: Domu: A Child’s Dream

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Revisiting AKIRA prompted me to re-read Domu: A Child’s Dream, an earlier work that helped cement Katsuhiro Otomo’s reputation as the leading manga-ka of his generation. Though both series include elements of horror and science fiction, the two are utterly different in approach: AKIRA is sweeping, grand, and allegorical, whereas Domu is compact, a taut psychological thriller that unfolds in a mere 230 pages.

Domu begins like a police procedural: an older detective and his hot-headed young partner arrive at a Tokyo apartment complex to investigate a series of deaths. Though the victims’ histories suggest foul play rather than suicide, the detectives are baffled by the crime scenes: all of the victims have jumped off rooftops or slashed their own throats, with no evidence of anyone watching or aiding them. A few tantalizing clues lead investigators to “Old Cho,” a seemingly benign, senile resident who spends most of his time sitting on a bench and muttering. Inspectors Yamagawa and Tamura can’t connect Cho to the crimes, but Etsuko, a stolid little girl who has just moved into the complex, knows how Cho killed them: telekinesis and hypnotic suggestion.

What follows is an intensely creepy cat-and-mouse game between Etsuko and Cho. Though Cho is nominally an adult, his mind is terrifyingly child-like; he kills his neighbors for their “treasures”: a baseball cap with wings, a fake ruby ring, an umbrella, a stuffed toy. Cho initially regards Etsuko as an impediment to his fun, but when he discovers that Etsuko can also move objects with her mind, he begins testing her strength and sense of morality. Their battle begins in the narrow hallways and dim elevator shafts of Etsuko’s building, but quickly consumes the entire complex as Cho attempts to annihilate Etsuko.

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Though I found the artwork for AKIRA a bit dated, a relic of a particular moment in sci-fi history, Domu seemed less mired in the 1980s. The characters are refreshingly realistic in their appearance; Cho actually looks like an eighty-year-old man, with a stooped frame, a deeply-etched face, and liver-spotted hands, while Etsuko’s plump cheeks and slightly awkward proportions seem appropriate for an eight-year-old. Otomo lavishes similar attention on his bit players, too, giving each apartment dweller a distinctive look that speaks volumes about his economic status, age, and fear of being swept up in Yamagawa and Tamura’s murder investigation. Even the apartment complex functions as a kind of character, a sterile collection of high-rise buildings whose imposing exteriors give way to dark, dingy interiors and cramped apartments. As Otomo guides us through its labyrinthine hallways and stairwells, we feel a palpable sense of dread; the complex is filled with the kind of dead ends and blind spots that feature prominently in our worst nightmares.

Domu would be a solid, if not remarkable, thriller on the strength of its artwork alone, but Etsuko’s predicament gives the story an added jolt of energy and terror. She’s the strongest, most adult character in the story, the only one with a clear sense of what’s happening, and the only one powerful enough to stop Cho. Making her plight more compelling is the fact that Etsuko behaves like an eight-year-old who just happens to have a deadly gift, rather than a god-like creature who just happens to be eight years old; she’s small and vulnerable, eager for the comfort of her mother’s arms, but she’s also fiercely moral and incredibly brave in the face of nightmarish events, a child whose natural desire to set things right is cruelly tested by a childish adult.

N.B. Domu has been out of print for several years, though copies are relatively easy to find through eBay and Amazon’s extended seller network. Dark Horse released Domu in several formats, including three slim TPBs and an omnibus edition.

DOMU: A CHILD’S DREAM • BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO • DARK HORSE • NO RATING (RECOMMENDED FOR OLDER TEENS)

Oh! My Brother 1 by Ken Saito: B-

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ohmybrother1-125Masago Kamoguchi is a normal girl: normal looks, normal grades, and normal athletic ability. But normal isn’t good enough for Masago when she’s constantly being compared to her older brother, Shiro, who is smart, good-looking, popular, and someone who draws people to him wherever he goes. As the story begins, Shiro is leading the student council in preparations for the school’s Cultural Festival and Masago is keeping a relatively low profile. All of that changes when Shiro dies saving Masago’s life and his consciousness somehow ends up sharing his sister’s body. Assuming that the incomplete plans for the festival are the “unfinished business” keeping Shiro around, Masago (with some oratorical assistance from her brother) convinces the remaining members of the student council to put aside their grief and make the festival a success in his honor. The students do just that, and though Shiro doesn’t move on as a result, that’s okay with Masago, who has decided she likes having him around.

The name Ken Saito might be familiar to some as the creator of The Name of the Flower. I like that series a lot, so I’d been looking forward to Oh! My Brother ever since the license acquisition was announced. Unfortunately, I found it to be somewhat of a disappointment. There are quite a few characters introduced all at once, and their various reactions to Shiro’s death—stemming from unrequited love or unfulfilled soccer rivalry—lack poignancy when we’ve only just met them; the tone is inconsistent, with the comedic aspect of the body-sharing predicament vying with teary moments for dominance; and I literally groaned aloud when the first page revealed the series was entering well-trod school festival territory already. Also, the relationship between the siblings is kind of icky at times: seriously, who blushes furiously when their brother gives them a peck on the cheek?

That isn’t to say it’s without good moments or the potential for a compelling story. When the successful completion of the festival fails to free Shiro’s spirit from this earthly plane, Masago realizes that his unfinished business is actually her and that his wish is for his sister to live life more fully. Of course, one of the ways in which she might do this is by allowing her feelings for Shiro’s friend, Kurouma-sempai, to flourish (and most likely be reciprocated), a path that Shiro seems determined to thwart by taking control of her body any time he thinks they’re getting too close. This dichotomy in Shiro’s intentions is interesting; I hope it’ll be explored later in the series. Also, it’s always completely clear which sibling is in control of Masago’s body at any given time, either by mannerism, expression, or dialogue. That can’t have been easy to achieve.

Artistically, Oh! My Brother has a cute style, though it’s a little too sketchy sometimes, particularly where light-haired characters are concerned. There’s one panel in particular in which a wispy-looking Masago appears right next to a solid-looking, dark-haired Kurouma-sempai. Perhaps there’s actually some deep symbolism going on here—she’s not fully here while he’s got both feet firmly on the ground?—but I rather doubt it. Also, there are a few errors in CMX’s script, a “your” that should be a “you’re,” and a “thoese” that should be either a “those” or a “these,” but definitely not both at once.

Ultimately, while I am slightly disappointed in this first volume, I plan to continue reading. Maybe this one just needs a little time to grow.

Oh! My Brother is published by CMX. The series is complete in Japan with four volumes, though only one has been published in English so far.

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

AKIRA, Vol. 1

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My first exposure to Katsuhiro Otomo came in 1990, when a college boyfriend insisted that we attend a screening of AKIRA at an artsy theater in the Village. I wish I could say that it had been a transforming experience, one that had awakened me to the possibilities of animation in general and Japanese visual storytelling in particular, but, in fact, I found the film tedious, gory, and self-important. Little did I imagine that I’d be reviewing AKIRA nineteen years later, let alone in its original graphic novel format.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Otomo’s epic tale works better on the page than it does on the screen, though it’s easy to see why Otomo felt the lengthy motorcycle chases and fight scenes were swell fodder for a movie. Ditto for the setting: what artist wouldn’t want the chance to rebuild a city as complex and ultra-modern as Tokyo from the ground up?

The story, however, demands the more intimate medium of print, as those chases and fights seem urgent and kinetic on the page, an essential tool for drawing the reader into the story, rather than an opportunity for the animators to dazzle audiences with their technical prowess. The story’s setting works better in print as well; the city feels feels more claustrophobic when rendered in black and white than in color. And the story’s length, too, is a factor; the movie compresses over 2,000 pages of material into two hours, trimming some of the manga’s more interesting subplots and secondary characters in order to accommodate the explosions and high-speed chases, and grossly simplifying the relationship between Tetsuo and Kaneda. As in the movie, neither personality is firmly established before Tetsuo begins morphing from juvenile delinquent to god-like psychopath, yet the manga gives each character more room to be, and not just react. As a result, both seem human and vulnerable, more teenage boys than action figures.

The basic plot has held up well. Its paranoid, don’t-trust-the-military vibe seems as resonant in 2009 as it did when the manga was first released in 1982, as does its message about the devastating consequences of WMDs. Watching China prepare for the Beijing Olympics in 2008 — leveling shanty towns, silencing protests — suggested parallels with AKIRA‘s own Olympic subplot, both in the secrecy surrounding the facilities’ construction and in the government’s adamant denial of citizen opposition to the projects.

The artwork hasn’t aged quite as gracefully as the story; it’s the manga equivalent of a mullet, betraying its early eighties roots. Otomo’s backgrounds and weaponry look liked they’ve been traced from The Star Wars Storybook, exuding the same mixture of sterility and rust that was a hallmark of period science fiction, while his characters have thick bodies and pudgy faces, just like the heroes of Tsukasa Hojo’s manga. Yet it’s hard to deny AKIRA‘s visual appeal. Otomo is one of the few artists who can make a chase or an explosion seem like it’s actually happening on the page, thanks to his ability to convey what I call the “geography” of the scene: how big the space is, how high off the ground it is, how far apart the characters are standing. The sound effects are almost superfluous, as Otomo does such a superb job of showing us how the characters move through the space that one can almost hear the whoosh! and vroom! as they fly past.

If you didn’t finish collecting AKIRA when it was still a Dark Horse property, you can round out your set without compromising its appearance on your shelf; the Kodansha edition is virtually identical, save for the logo on the spine. (No, really: it’s the same translation, same trim size, same cover design, and same price as the 2000 version.) And if you haven’t read it yet? Well, now’s your chance to read one of the medium’s greatest sci-fi epics in a nice, oversized package. Recommended.

Review updated on October 5, 2010.

AKIRA, VOL. 1 • BY KATSUHIRO OTOMO • KODANSHA • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+) • 368 pp.

xxxHOLiC, Vol. 14

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By CLAMP
Del Rey, 192 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

With a quiet life restored thanks to her wish, Kohane gives her mother the space necessary for her to gain an understanding of how she must change by moving in with the fortune-teller from volume two, who will also take the opportunity to pass on her craft to Kohane. While visiting, Watanuki teaches Kohane to cook and Doumeki reveals to Kohane the reason behind his friendship with Watanuki. As they walk home later that evening, Watanuki startles Doumeki with a confession (no, not that kind) of his own. Back at the shop, a new customer arrives—a young woman with a wish to obtain cooking lessons. Watanuki is (unwillingly) tasked with fulfilling her wish, which gives him some unexpected insight into both Doumeki’s eating habits and the individual nature of cooking.

Though this volume proceeds more quietly than the last, it is filled with wry humor and thoughtful revelation, two of the series’ best qualities. Also notable in this volume is a strong sense of warmth, something that has increasingly become a part of the series. This is particularly evident in each character’s relationship with Watanuki—from Yuuko to the fortune-teller—including even dry-humored characters like Doumeki and Mokona (with whom Watanuki shares an especially sweet moment in this volume). It is the connection between people that makes this series feel so rich, a point made stronger in this volume when Watanuki reveals that it is these connections that have inspired him to continue his own existence. As usual, this volume also provides enough mouth-watering discussion of food to send every reader running to the kitchen (or at least the nearest Japanese restaurant).

With its gorgeous artwork and philosophical tone, xxxHOLiC continues to provide a feast for both the eye and soul.

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

xxxHolic, Volume 14

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xxxholic14Today I have a short review of xxxHolic, Vol. 14 in a special Tuesday edition of Manga Minis. This series is so wonderfully rich and there is much I might have said about this volume, given more space. I’ll try to include some of it here.

First of all, one of the things I discussed in my mini is the level of warmth this series has taken on. The “sweet” moment I mention between Watanuki and Mokona, for instance, is so adorable one could die, and when Kohane asks Doumeki why he remains with Watanuki, the image Doumeki calls forth–Watanuki by the river on a particular rainy day–is enough to break one’s heart. That this is followed by Kohane asking Doumeki to “Take care of Kimihiro-kun… please?” is truly the final nail in the coffin.

It is here, too, that I must mention CLAMP’s effective use of paneling, because it is not so much the dialogue that does the work here, but the imagery. Doumeki doesn’t respond to Kohane with anything more than the squeeze of a hand, but the way that moment is built up–with a flashback to Yuuko’s ominous words about hesitation, individual profiles (cut narrowly within wide horizontal panels) of Doumeki and then Kohane, then a single page consisting only of a larger, fuller profile of Doumeki followed by a close-up of his hand squeezing Kohane’s–draws out the moment perfectly, giving it enormous emotional weight. Similarly effective means are used in the story’s next scene too, in which Watanuki confesses his new resolve to remain in this world. The panels are clean and heavy on contrast as is usual for CLAMP (especially in this series) and this deceptive visual simplicity, much like simplicity of language, allows for stronger statements than could ever be made with more verbose visual language.

This volume is filled with foreshadowing, which I suppose is no different than the rest of the series to this point, but at this point the foreshadowing contains a sense of urgency and immediacy that has not been present before, at least to this extent. That a customer arrives in the middle of it all–something we haven’t seen for quite some time–might appear to break the momentum, but it actually seems to be a part of it somehow, with Watanuki taking on Yuuko’s usual role. A later scene with the voices (but not the bodies) of Maru and Moro only strengthens this feeling, and the book’s final scene sets an uneasy, anticipatory tone for the next volume, despite the unearthly calm of its participants. Will it be Watanuki who is able to grant Yuuko’s wish after all, just as he has hoped to do? It seems likely that we will find out soon.

What read as cold philosophy at the beginning of this series has become intimate personal drama fourteen volumes in, and even Yuuko can’t pretend to be detached from the story’s outcome, particularly as concerns Watanuki, whom she obviously loves. Though I think it goes without saying at this point that reading Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle has become an essential part of understanding this series, there is something deep at the core of xxxHolic that stands entirely on its own, and nowhere is that clearer than in this volume.

Click here to read my miniaturized thoughts on the subject (I’m not lying about the food thing; I made rice balls immediately after reading this volume). And please, read xxxHolic. It is truly a thing of beauty.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Boys Over Flowers Jewelry Box

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Boys Over Flowers Jewelry Box
By Yoko Kamio
Published by Viz Media

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Though Boys Over Flowers‘ main story finally concluded after 36 volumes, neither fans nor mangaka Yoko Kamio were quite content, thus the release of Boys Over Flowers Jewelry Box featuring two side stories set after the series’ final volume. The first of these follows heroine Tsukushi Makino, now out of high school and working as a clerk in a real estate office to pay her family’s bills. With boyfriend Tsukasa still in New York, former love interest Rui has taken to visiting Tsukushi’s family regularly, becoming so familiar he even addresses her father as “dad.” When the whole group is assembled in Paris to witness the wedding of Rui’s former crush, Shizuka, Tsukasa clearly demonstrates his jealousy by asserting control and throwing money (and insults) at Tsukushi, as usual. The second story focuses on Rui, his uncertainty over his future, and his difficulty letting go long-held feelings for Tsukushi.

Unlike many fans, I felt quite satisfied with the way things were left at the end of volume 36, with true love finally settled (at least for Tsukushi and Tsukasa) but not so settled that the character’s futures were unnecessarily narrowed. After all, the story’s heroine was still in high school at the end of the series, and I think I’d have felt incredibly uncomfortable if things had been left any more certain than they were. That said, there is something decidedly comforting about sneaking a peek into Tsukushi and Tsukasa’s future lives and seeing them still bumbling along in their fiery-yet-conservative romance, as awkward and volatile as ever. Though it is disconcerting to see Tsukasa falling back into his worst, most controlling self at the first twinge of insecurity, demonstrating very little personal growth since the end of the series proper, if there’s one thing that has been made clear over the course of the series, it is that Tsukushi can handle herself regardless of his behavior.

Even nicer is the look into Rui’s world, something that remained largely mysterious throughout the series particularly in terms of his feelings for Tsukushi and, really, women in general. With its thoughtful, melancholy look at Rui and his place both in Tsukushi’s life and within the F4, this volume’s second story is quite plainly the best reason to buy it. I’d consider it a must-read for any fan.

Though this manga offers nothing on the level of Boys Over Flowers‘ greatest drama, that is perhaps the secret to its charm. Short but not too sweet, Boys Over Flowers Jewelry Box provides a nicely quiet postscript to this deliciously melodramatic epic.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Rin-Ne, Vol. 1

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I read a Rumiko Takahashi manga for the same reason I watch an Alfred Hitchcock thriller: I know exactly what I’m going to get. Certain plot elements and motifs recur throughout each artist’s work — Hitchcock loves pairing a brittle blond with a rakish cad on the run from authorities, for example, while Takahashi loves pairing a female “seer” with a demonically-tinged boy — yet the craft with which Hitchcock and Takahashi develop such tropes prevents either artist’s work from feeling stale or repetitive. Takahashi’s latest series gives ample proof that while she may have a limited repertory, she’s the undisputed master of the supernatural mystery.

Sakura Mamiya and Rinne Rokudo, Rin-ne‘s oil-and-water leads, are a classic Takahashi pair: Sakura is a seemingly ordinary teenager with the ability to see ghosts, while Rinne is a hot-headed boy who’s part human and part shinigami. The two meet cute in Sakura’s tenth-grade classroom when Rinne arrives to claim his long-empty seat. “Looks like he made it,” Sakura whispers to a friend before realizing that she’s the only person who can see the tall, flame-haired boy in a fancy ceremonial robe. Sakura then watches Rinne  attempt to banish an enormous Chihuahua demon to the afterlife — an exorcism that goes horribly (and comically) awry when the dog’s spirit merges with the spirit of a love-starved teen. Now forced to contend with an even more powerful, angry ghost, Rinne uses Sakura to lure it to the Wheel of Reincarnation, an enormous portal that separates the material and spirit worlds.

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After their dramatic introduction, Sakura and Rinne forge a reluctant partnership. Sakura provides material assistance and ethical guidance to Rinne, while Rinne banishes the spirits that plague Sakura’s high school. Sakura soon learns that Rinne’s grandmother, a shinigami, fell in love with a young man whose spirit she was sent to collect. In exchange for extending his life by fifty years, Rinne’s grandmother agreed to “fulfill her shinigami duties at ten times her usual quota.” When she failed to reach that target, Rinne was forced to enter the family trade, operating on the fringes of both the human and spectral worlds with limited ability to function in either realm — hence his weak exorcism skills.

Where, exactly, Takahashi plans to take the story is still something of a mystery. As she did with InuYasha, she’s using the first few volumes to establish the premise, explain how the Wheel of Incarnation works, and develop the chemistry between her lead characters by subjecting them to a host of unhappy spirits. The first eight chapters have a pleasant, spook-of-the-week feeling, as Sakura and Rinne tangle with a ghostly cell phone caller, a damashigami (a shinigami who meets his quota by luring innocent people to their deaths), and an ochimusa (a disgraced warrior). At the same time, however, Takahashi is clearly laying the groundwork for a more extended storyline, introducing several supporting characters, leaving key questions about Sakura’s past unanswered, and creating space for a Naraku-esque villain to fill.

The first volume’s leisurely pace also allows Takahashi plenty of room to showcase her comedic talents. Though InuYasha, Mermaid Saga, and Rumic World have canted more strongly towards horror, Rin-ne is decidedly humorous, incorporating supernatural elements into everyday settings in delightfully absurd ways. Takahashi’s demon Chihuahua is a great example: the demon continues to behave like a nervous, short-haired toy even after it grows to enormous size, and remains susceptible to the savory appeal of milk bones. Rinne’s grandfather is another example of the supernatural made ridiculous; as Rinne’s grandmother wistfully notes, her husband was reincarnated as a mackerel — the destiny for which he was slated when she fell in love with him.

Though utterly enjoyable, Rin-ne has its flaws. Takahashi relies a little too heavily on interior monologues to cue us into what’s happening; Sakura is frequently called upon to mutter, “So that’s why no one can see him!” even when the illustrations make it plain that Rinne is invisible to humans when he dons his flame-patterned haori. Takahashi isn’t above recycling bits from other works, either; Rokumon, a familiar introduced in chapter six, bears a strong resemblance to InuYasha‘s Shippo in both appearance and plot function, comic relief in the form of a child-like animal spirit. Sakura, too, seems more like a Kagome clone than a character in her own right, though she’s a little edgier and more skeptical than her jewel-seeking predecessor.

Still, it’s hard to dismiss a manga that’s crafted with as much skill and good humor as Rin-ne. The story and characters may remind readers of other works in the Takahashi canon, but that strikes me as a good thing — yet another opportunity to spend time with the kind of spunky heroines, rash-but-kind heroes, and oddball supporting characters that give Takahashi’s work its distinctive flavor.

Review copy provided by VIZ Media, LLC. Volume one of Rin-ne will be available on October 20, 2009.

RIN-NE, VOL. 1 • BY RUMIKO TAKAHASHI • VIZ • 182 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

The Gentlemen’s Alliance Cross 10 by Arina Tanemura: C

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gentlemen's10After resolving some convoluted-sounding subplots involving Haine’s family—featuring maternal amnesia, uncertain paternity, and mansions afire—The Gentlemen’s Alliance Cross moves into the home stretch as Haine is pressed to finally choose between the identical twins with whom she is in love. Alas, just when she finally grasps the idea that the nice twin (Takanari) is probably a better choice than the scheming git (Shizumasa), he’s captured by his brother’s minions and imprisoned. Like any self-respecting shojo heroine, Haine vows to rescue him.

Being the penultimate volume of the series, volume ten offers a variety of dramatic moments and revelations, including arranged marriages, envelopes with surprising contents, and a tale of childhood betrayal that explains the current animosity between the twins. My favorite, though, is the surprise leukemia.

The end product of all these dire events tumbling one atop the other can be described as little else than a mess, and I was much more compelled to snicker at the ridiculous developments than sympathize with anyone involved. Still, I was pretty impressed by how easy it was to jump in and follow the story at this point and ended up liking Takanari, too, though I must question his taste in girls.

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

Rasetsu, Vol. 2

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By Chika Shiomi
Viz, 192 pp.
Rating: T+ (Older Teen)

Marked by a demon as a young teen, tough eighteen-year-old Rasetsu Hyuga has two years left of her life before the demon claims her as his own, unless she is able to meet her own true love before her time is up. She is also a gifted exorcist who was taken in and nurtured by the head of the Hiichiro Amakawa Agency (a man referred to mainly as “Chief”), a company that offers exorcisms for a fee. Rasetsu is joined in her work by Kuryu, a master of koto dama, the power of words, and eventually by Yako, a former librarian with his own spiritual powers who was manipulated into joining the agency in the first volume. In volume two, Rasetsu’s terror of her fate shines through in a rare moment of vulnerability, prompting Yako to promise to be there for her on the fated day. Later, Kuryu plays around with his ability in an unusually insensitive way while also unintentionally revealing to Yako that he is much more powerful than he pretends to be.

Though the premise of this series is fairly unoriginal and its character development even less so, there is a certain comfort to watching its familiar scenarios play out that lends a particular charm and with the first volume’s exposition out of the way, Rasetsu is able to relax right into the task. It seems obvious that Yako is intended to be Rasetsu’s “true love” (Rasetsu even resembles his first love, guardian spirit Yurara from the series of the same name) and there are traces of this emerging already in volume two, at least on Rasetsu’s side. Kuryu, with his harmless, puppy-dog front hiding a potentially sinister power, is reminiscent of Tokyo Babylon‘s murderous veterinarian, Seishiro, casting a suspicious light on him immediately, especially after this volume in which he accidentally shows his hand. The series’ other characters, mysterious chief Hiichiro and cheerful office boy Aoi, are shojo staples as well, but quite fun and appealingly rendered, skipping off to enjoy rides at an amusement park while everyone else is working.

Fans of supernatural romance may not find anything new in Rasetsu, but tried-and-true formulas are alive, well, and downright agreeable here in its second volume.

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

Legend, Volume 6

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Legend, Vol. 6
By Kara & Woo SooJung
Published by Yen Press

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As the confrontation between No-Ah and Toh (the fourth blade of the Seven Blade Sword) continues, Toh reveals his true mission–to keep the blades of the Sword from being collected together, thus preventing world chaos, a consequence of which No-Ah was previously unaware. When Eun-Gyo arrives in the middle of it all, it becomes clear that she is not herself but instead Joo-Ji, the central blade of the Sword, who chose to be reborn as human in order to be reunited with her lover, which unexpectedly turns out to be No-Ah. When No-Ah meets her, however, he is only concerned about what has happened to Eun-Gyo, whom he is determined to protect in this life. Meanwhile, Ho-Dong searches frantically for Eun-Gyo, revealing his own past-life agenda–to reunite with Joo-Ji before No-Ah can steal her away from him again–as well as his current allegiance as a spy working for the same side as trickster Poong. Horrified to discover that No-Ah has reached her before he could, Ho-Dong reverts into a young man, the true form he has been hiding all along. As the volume continues, the web of past loves becomes even more tangled when the true identity of No-Ah’s sister, Seo-Hee, is revealed.

This volume is simply packed with new revelations, each contributing to this series’ sudden burst of new life. After several somewhat tepid volumes, this series is finally coming together and the effect is quite stunning. Each of the characters has gained new depth with further revelations regarding their past lives, particularly No-Ah and Ho-Dong who are being pulled in multiple directions by the often-conflicting motivations of their past and present selves. No-Ah’s lack of clear memory makes his position particularly complex, while Ho-Dong’s clear, painful memories make his especially poignant. “You must be more furious than sad,” teases the ever-smug Poong upon Ho-Dong’s return to his original form, “Isn’t that why you’ve decided to stop being a spy? You want to try to steal Miss Eun-Gyo from No-Ah, right?” adding cruelly, “Didn’t have the confidence to seduce her as a kid?”

Both No-Ah and Ho-Dong are in unenviable positions–No-Ah becoming more and more aware of the fact that the quest necessary to save his sister may have grave, far-reaching consequences and Ho-Dong being continuously faced with the same heartbreak time and time again–and with the lines between “sides” blurring further with each chapter it’s difficult to judge either of them by their choices. That the story’s creators have managed to paint all of this in such varied shades of gray is largely responsible for the success of this volume, and though their decision to withhold so much until this far in may have cost them some readers earlier on, the payoff is substantial. Even Eun-Gyo’s dense single-mindedness has taken on a newly rich tone as it becomes clear that she is, on some level, being manipulated by emotions generated by her past life. Only No-Ah, from his unique perspective of being both aware of and detached from his past life, is able to truly separate the feelings of his past self from his own, giving him a peculiar advantage over most everyone else.

After waffling on this series for so long, it is a pleasure to be able to finally recommend Legend. Though it gets off to a slow start, this series is a great choice for fans of shojo adventure manga and may appeal especially to those who have had difficulty embracing the art style in much of Yen Press’ manhwa catalogue. Though I personally prefer the clean, solid look of manhwa titles like Goong and One Thousand and One Nights, or even the quasi-alien look of something like 13th Boy, many manga fans consider those style to be hard or flat–words that could not possibly be used to describe Kara’s artwork here. With its flowing, wispy, undeniably cute art style and new air of romantic drama, Legend finally establishes a strong place for itself in Yen’s current lineup of girls’ manhwa.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Vampire Knight 1-4 by Matsuri Hino: B-

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vampireknight1The first memory Yuki Cross can remember happened ten years ago when she was five: she’s attacked by one vampire but saved by another, the beautiful and pureblooded Kaname. Kaname brings the human girl to the home of a human he knows and his frequent visits throughout her childhood result in her growing very attached to him. Six years later, the introduction of a boy named Zero, sole survivor of a vampire attack against his vampire-hunting family, diverts Yuki’s attentions from Kaname somewhat, since she’s compelled to try to cure Zero of his misery and hatred. When Yuki’s adopted father decides to open Cross Academy as a way to foster peaceful relations between humans (the day class) and vampires (the night class), the three central characters attend, with Zero and Yuki serving as the disciplinary committee (tasked with keeping the peace as well as the secret about the true nature of the students in the night class) and Kaname as the main draw for the vampire contingent, since it turns out purebloods inspire devotion amongst their brethren.

vampireknight2Yuki still carries a torch for Kaname, even confesses to yearning for him, but she’s also very protective of Zero, especially when she learns his secret: as a result of the pureblood’s bite he suffered as a child, he’s turning into a vampire. What’s more, vampires that used to be humans are fated to go insane, at which time they’re hunted down by the vampire elite. Yuki, in earnest shoujo heroine fashion, declares that she will not let this happen and offers Zero her blood so that he may satisfy his cravings without preying on others. Kaname isn’t keen on this arrangement—uttering the gem of a line, “I can’t keep my composure when my dear girl has been pierced by someone else”—and knows he should rightly be preparing to hunt Zero down, but looks the other way because Zero’s the only one in the day class who could protect Yuki if danger should ensue. Aside from the introduction of the vampire responsible for killing Zero’s family, this is essentially where matters stand at the end of the fourth volume.

vampireknight3Thus far, Vampire Knight is an exceptionally pretty bowl of angsty soup that offers a sprinkling of legitimately good scenes amidst a broth of cheesy and/or eyeroll-inducing ones. Yuki is a big problem, since she is completely and totally ineffectual. She’s one of those types who’ll rush headlong into a dangerous scene, usually intent on helping, and make matters worse by getting attacked or having her anti-vampire gun plucked from her grasp within two seconds of her arrival. She’s got a special weapon—the Artemis Rod—and occasionally demonstrates feats of athletic prowess, but proves incapable of saving herself time and time again. One wonders why on earth this dismally dim girl has two hot vampire boys competing for her affections.

The boys are somewhat more compelling, though not exactly likable. Zero is perpetually unhappy and often sour in disposition, though Yuki’s fretting on his behalf occasionally inspires brief displays of affection. I don’t begrudge him his angst—he is turning into the thing he hates, after all—but his seemingly constant vampireknight4dilemma about whether to give up or try to keep living for Yuki’s sake doesn’t do much for me. Kaname, for his part, is refined yet inscrutable. Even dialogue like, “I can’t bear losing you. Ever.” doesn’t manage to convince me that he’s in any sort of real emotional turmoil. The enjoyable flashbacks in volume three help somewhat to establish his connection with Yuki, though not greatly.

And yet, Vampire Knight possesses attributes that make it not only readable, but also somewhat of a guilty pleasure. For one, the art is very lovely, with bishounen eye candy galore. It’s slathered with screen tone, something I don’t normally like, but that ultimately works well in cultivating a gloomy and oppressive mood. Too, Hino occasionally creates scenes of surprising sexiness and drama, like the first time Zero drinks Yuki’s blood or the shocking final pages in volume four. This series may be blatantly silly at times, but as long as my (awesome) local library continues to carry it, I’m likely to keep reading.

Kamichama Karin Chu, Vol. 5

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By Koge-Donbo
Del Rey, 176 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

Karin, Kazune, and Michiru are cast as the Three Musketeers in the school play, which Karin hopes will be her chance to bring Micchi back into the fold as a noble god. Things don’t quite go as planned, but thanks to some help from Jin Kuga, who steps in as an understudy at a crucial moment, and the somewhat fortuitous appearance of a chaos seed, Micchi eventually realizes his true place is as a god. Reunited, the three young gods are lured to the beach by their enemy, Kirio Karasuma, where Suzune reveals an unexpected new form during a close call with a swarm of jellyfish. Unfortunately, that’s not the only surprise waiting at the beach, and the second is much darker, both for the gods and for Jin.

This volume gets off to a weak start with the Three Musketeers storyline, which brings Micchi back into the group much too quickly and easily to be believed. The second half of the book is much stronger, however, moving the plot forward and stressing the urgency of the gods’ unity, as well as providing some very touching moments between Karin, Kazune, and their future son, Suzune. The way this story plays with time—the strong glimpses these young characters are given of both their past lives and their future selves—is what maintains its emotional core, and it is incidents like the one with Suzune in this volume that most touch the heart and make the story into something more than its many clichés might suggest.

At its best, Kamichama Karin Chu is a delightful marriage of magical-girl formula and true pre-pubescent fantasy, straight out of the mind of any imaginative young girl. Though this volume falls just short of its best, its strong final chapters prove that this fantasy is still alive and well.

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

Summit of the Gods, Vol. 1

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On a brilliant summer day in 1924, British explorer George Mallory began what would be his third and final attempt to climb Mt. Everest. Armed with oxygen tanks and masks, he and fellow mountaineer Andrew Irvine began their approach to the summit on the morning of June 8th, reaching the Northeast Ridge around one o’clock in the afternoon — a potentially fatal mistake, as they had barely enough time to reach the peak and return safely to camp before nightfall. Noel Odell, another member of Mallory’s expedition, spotted the pair ascending the so-called “steps,” three rock formations located 2,000 vertical feet below the top. As he would recall in the 1924 book The Fight for Everest, Odell caught a brief glimpse of his mates through a break in the cloud cover:

I saw the whole summit ridge and final peak of Everest unveiled. I noticed far away on a snow slope leading up to what seemed to me to be the last step but one from the base of the final pyramid, a tiny object moving and approaching the rock step. A second object followed, and then the first climbed to the top of the step. As I stood intently watching this dramatic appearance, the scene became enveloped in cloud once more, and I could not actually be certain that I saw the second figure join the first. (p. 130)

Odell was the last to see either man alive; for the next 75 years, Mallory and Irvine’s fate remained a mystery, though a few tantalizing clues — Irvine’s ice axe, Mallory’s discarded oxygen canister — suggested that neither had reached the top. In 1999, a joint American-British expedition recovered Mallory’s body not far from where Irvine’s axe was discovered, spurring new questions about their climb: had Odell, in fact, watched the men descending the Steps after a successful trip to the summit? Had Irvine and Mallory become separated on the mountain face, or did they fall together to their deaths? And where was Irvine’s body?

The mystery surrounding Mallory’s disappearance forms the core of Yumemakura Baku and Jiro Taniguchi’s award-winning series The Summit of the Gods. Based on a 1998 novel by Baku, Summit focuses on Makoto Fukamachi, a photographer who picks up Mallory’s trail in Kathmandu, where a 1924 Vestpocket Autographic Kodak Special — the camera Mallory supposedly carried up Everest — turns up in a second-hand store frequented by climbers and sherpas. As Fukamachi tracks the camera’s descent from Everest to Kathmandu, he crosses paths with Jouji Habu, a taciturn Japanese climber who knows more about the camera than he’s willing to reveal. Fukamachi begins trailing Habu, interrogating Habu’s acquaintances and climbing partners in hopes of learning what Habu is doing in Kathmandu. Though Fukamachi expects his questions will lead him to the camera’s source, he discovers instead that he and Habu have similarly haunting pasts: Fukamachi watched — and documented — two climbers fall to their deaths on an Everest glacier, while Habu tried — and failed — to rescue a climbing partner who lost his footing and plunged one hundred feet over a cliff in the Japanese Alps.

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Both characters’ backstories are as harrowing as any passage from Jon Krakauer’s Into Thin Air, thanks to Taniguchi’s impeccable illustrations. Taniguchi captures the mountains’ desolation and danger with his meticulous renderings of rock formations, glaciers, and quick-changing weather patterns; one could be forgiven for wanting to clip into a securely anchored harness before reading volume one. Taniguchi’s talent for evoking the mood and energy of a landscape is also evident in his depiction of Kathmandu, a maze-like city filled with dead ends, bazaars, billboards, temples, and con artists eager to hustle European tourists. Through intricately detailed backgrounds juxtaposing squalid, overcrowded  neighborhoods with sleek, modern buildings, Taniguchi suggests the city’s almost uncontainable energy.

The sheer beauty and power of these scenes distracts from the series’ biggest flaw: the omniscient narrator. In the afterward to volume one, Baku explains that he felt that Taniguchi was “the only artist” who could do justice to “the overwhelming massiveness of the mountains, the details of the climbing, the depictions of the characters.” In adapting his novel for a graphic medium, however, Baku never fully entrusts the artwork with the responsibility of telling the story; too often, Baku inserts unnecessary explanations into gracefully composed panels. In one scene, for example, Fukamachi dreams that he’s trailing a silent, mysterious figure up the summit of Everest, his calls going unheeded. To the reader, it’s obvious that Fukamachi is dreaming about Mallory, as Fukamachi has spent three days locked in his hotel room reading accounts of Mallory’s final climb. Yet the sequence is heavily scripted, with Baku decoding all of Taniguchi’s images rather baldly; it’s as if Baku is narrating the scene for someone who can’t see the pictures.

That Summit of the Gods remains compelling in spite of such editorial interventions is testament both to Taniguchi’s skill as a visual storyteller and to the story’s alluring location; as anyone who’s read Into Thin Air will tell you, the extreme conditions on Everest — the weather, the terrain, the frigid temperatures, the remoteness of the mountaintop — all but guarantee drama, even when the climbers are experienced and the weather cooperative. How Makafuchi and Habu will cope with these challenges remains to be seen, but it’s a sure bet that there will be plenty of nail-biting moments on the way to unraveling the mystery of what happened to George Mallory on that bright June day in 1924.

THE SUMMIT OF THE GODS, VOL. 1 • SCRIPT BY YUMEMAKURA BAKU, ART BY JIRO TANIGUCHI • FANFARE/PONENT MON • 328 pp. • NO RATING