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Higurashi: When They Cry, Vols. 4-5

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Guest Review
Higurashi: When They Cry, Vols. 4-5
By Ryukishi 07, Yutori Houjyou, and Jiro Suzuki
Published by Yen Press

Review by Megan M.

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A newcomer to the small hamlet town of Hinamizawa, Keiichi Maebara makes friends quickly among the students at his new school. He also learns that the town has a history of grisly murders occurring on the night of the local Cotton Drifting. What’s more, some of his new friends seem to be intimately (and tragically) involved in the town’s gruesome history.

Based on a popular murder mystery game, Higurashi: When They Cry depicts multiple versions of a single story, drawn by various artists. Volume four wraps up the “Cotton Drifting” arc and volume five begins the “Curse Killing” arc. The difference in approach between these two volumes is most easily demonstrated by discussing their art styles. Yutori Houjyou’s art in “Cotton Drifting” is a fairly standard in terms of character design, but dark, creepy, and occasionally shocking. Her characters, even the more lighthearted ones, have a depressing air of gravity to them. Jiro Suzuki’s art in “Curse Killing,” on the other hand, is in broad slapstick, featuring plenty of visual humor and moe character designs (along with the usual fanservice). I found the adjustment jarring, and volume five’s borderline-inappropriate comedy kept me from being able to care about the tragedy surrounding the characters.

One interesting note: unlike similar stories, which tend toward gratuitous display of female corpses, Higurashi doesn’t play gender favorites when it comes to victims. Though it’s true there are more female corpses than there are male, there are also far more female characters overall.

I consider it to almost be a crime to watch Clue (a brilliant black comedy from the 1980s) without watching all the endings, so I’m intrigued by a canon that centers around different possibilities in a single story. Unfortunately, this one didn’t quite work for me. Though Higruashi: When They Cry is by no means bad manga, I don’t think it’s a series for me.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Osamu Tezuka’s MW

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Invoke Tezuka’s name, and most readers immediately think of Astro Boy, Buddha, and Princess Knight. But there’s a darker side to Tezuka’s oeuvre that dates back to 1953, the year in which he brought Dostoevsky’s tormented Raskolnikov to life in a manga-fied version of Crime and Punishment. It’s this side of Tezuka — the side that acknowledges the human capacity for violence, greed, and deception — that’s on display in MW, a twisty thriller about a sociopath and the priest who loves him.

The central event of MW is a military cover-up. “Nation X,” which maintains a base on Okinawa Mafune, has been stockpiling a top-secret chemical weapon known as MW.1 An explosion releases a poisonous cloud, killing everyone on the island except for two visitors, Iwao Garai and Michio Yuki. Though Garai and Yuki are equally traumatized by this holocaust, their lives diverge wildly over the next fifteen years. Garai embraces the light, becoming a Roman Catholic priest, while Yuki embraces the darkness, embarking on a spree of kidnappings, murders, and extortion schemes meant to punish the politicians, businessmen, and military officials who profited from the subsequent cover-up.

Superficially, Yuki’s plans might be understood as an eye for an eye, but Yuki is no righteous avenger. He’s a serial killer who relishes torturing his victims, who exploits the secrecy of the confessional to torment Garai with details of his crimes, who uses his androgynous sex appeal to seduce both men and women, and who impersonates his female victims with the skill of a kabuki actor. (And just in case we haven’t yet grasped the true extent of Yuki’s depravity, Tezuka suggests that Yuki has a rather intimate bond with his dog Tomoe.) Even Yuki’s motivation for exposing the MW scandal is purely selfish: Yuki is dying from its lingering effects, and wishes to take millions of people with him to the grave. Though Father Garai hopes to redeem Yuki, he lacks Yuki’s certitude, instead violating his priestly vows — especially that pesky oath of celibacy — as he tries to prevent Yuki from harming anyone else.

MW can certainly be enjoyed as a potboiler. Tezuka spins an entertaining, slightly preposterous yarn, serving up more plot twists, car chases, and gender-bending costume changes than Dressed to Kill and The Manchurian Candidate combined. But it’s also very talky. Characters frequently describe their plans at length instead of just carrying them out; voice-overs interrupt the action to educate us on the history of chemical warfare; and thought balloons reveal little about the interior lives of the characters that couldn’t be inferred from their actions.

MW can be more profitably understood as a meditation on US-Japanese relations during the Vietnam War. The gas attack takes place around 1960, the year the Japanese Diet ratified the Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security2, while most of the action takes place in the 1970s, as left-wing student groups were taking to the streets to protest American military presence in Japan. Though MW does include a few demonstrations, Tezuka doesn’t try to dramatize the left wing’s activities so much as the spirit of the movement: “Debunk false democracy!” The politicians in MW are greedy, foolish, and entirely too cozy with “Nation X” military brass. Yet the student radicals don’t fare so well, either; Tezuka renders them as an ineffectual lot whose agenda is riddled with inconsistencies. Only in the ambivalent Father Garai, who desperately wishes to enlighten the public about MW, does Tezuka present a decent, sympathetic figure, someone struggling mightily against hypocrisy and deceit, even as he succumbs to his own sexual demons.

Of course, there’s another level on which MW can be appreciated as well: the artwork. MW is Tezuka at his most restrained; there are no doe-eyed critters, no slapstick, no characters breaking the fourth wall to crack wise about cartooning conventions. (To be sure, there are moments of playfulness: in one memorable sequence, reminiscent of the grand parade in Cleopatra, Yuki impersonates the great gorgons of Aubrey Beardsley’s work, from Salome to the Lady in the Peacock Skirt.) Most of the pages have a surprisingly direct, clean presentation, a neat and orderly progression of squares and rectangles that run in counterpoint to the orgies, bank robberies, high-speed boat chases, and fist-fights they contain. From time to time, however, Tezuka thinks outside the grid, with dramatic results. When Gari and Yuki find themselves on Okinawa Mafune, for example, Tezuka doesn’t depict the actual gas attack. Instead, Tezuka shows us only what Garai and Yuki see after the cloud has dissipated: a mosaic of faces, each contorted into a grotesque death-mask. It’s a potent, haunting moment that suggests both the survivors’ horror upon discovering the bodies and the victims’ excruciatingly painful deaths.

As with all of Tezuka’s works, MW is sprinkled with characters and scenes that may make contemporary readers uncomfortable. The women of MW, for example, are either passive victims — one is rendered an emotional and physical invalid after Yuki rapes her — or venal shrews, with only a brief appearance by a sane lesbian newspaper editor to balance the parade of unflattering female stereotypes. Tezuka’s depiction of homosexuality is similarly frustrating. On the one hand, the newspaper editor refuses to embarrass Garai by outing him in the press, telling him that “gay love is accepted outside Japan”; on the other hand, Garai’s relationship with Yuki has a strong whiff of pedophilia — at least in the opening pages — as Garai is an adult and Yuki a boy at the time of their first encounter. Similar issues dog Apollo’s Song and Swallowing the Earth, yet in MW, Tezuka’s decision to focus exclusively on the problems of Japanese society prevents the story from spinning out of control or sinking under the weight of a few ill-informed portrayals.

Fans of Apollo’s Song, Buddha, and Ode to Kirihito won’t be surprised to learn that Vertical has done a fine job of showcasing Tezuka’s work with a crisp translation, quality binding, and signature Chip Kidd dustjacket. MW won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but if the thought of Tezuka channeling Brian DePalma and John Frankenheimer sounds appealing, you’ll want to add it to your library.

1 MW is pronounced “moo.”
2 The treaty reaffirmed the US military’s commitment to defending Japan against hostile forces, pledged to return captured territories, and extended the US occupation of Okinawa for an additional ten years.

This is a revised version of a review that appeared at PopCultureShock on October 29, 2007. Click here for the original text.

MW • BY OSAMU TEZUKA • VERTICAL, INC. • 582 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Kamichama Karin Chu, Vol. 7

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

Karin and Michiru traveled to the future in volume six to try to stop Kirihiko Karasuma (in Jin Kuga’s body) from creating the future they’ve worked so hard to avoid. As they arrive in volume seven, they discover that Kazune has come along as well, despite the loss of his Apollo ring. Together, the three of them face Kirihiko in a final battle to save their futures and bring everyone together again, including loved ones who have been fighting against them.

Time travel is a messy thing indeed and though it has been a major element in the story all along, things begin to unravel here with Karin meeting up with her future self and the Chronos Clocks suddenly taking on new power that seems a bit too conveniently manipulated to make things turn out just right. Everything about this volume feels strained, from its rushed romantic moments to its anticlimactic final battle, as though mangaka Koge-Donbo was forced to wrap things up just a bit too quickly.

Though this series has declined toward the end, diminishing its adult appeal, it is still a fun, whimsical choice for younger readers with a fairly powerful message about making one’s own fate. “We are all little gods,” reads the final page of the series proper. “Sometimes, we can even change destiny.”

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

Hikaru no Go 18 by Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata: B

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After the drama of the past few volumes, “the main storyline takes a holiday” (to quote the back cover) in volume eighteen and instead we get six short stories of varying quality.

A couple of stories, like those focusing on Akira Toya and Yuki Mitani, fill in some background for scenes from earlier in the series, and one revisits what’s left of Hikaru’s old middle school go club. Two others—about Asumi Nase, an insei, and Atsushi Kurata, a relatively young pro—serve to flesh out supporting characters and are the best of the bunch.

The sixth purports to be about Sai, and it was this story I’d looked forward to the most. Alas, it’s nearly the least interesting (Mitani’s claims top honors in that category), as it boils down to another case of “corrupt merchant trying to sell antique merchandise that Sai knows is fake.” I had hoped for a story from Sai’s life or perhaps from his time with his previous host, but instead we get a rehash of something we’ve seen as recently as volume twelve.

I’d be lying if I said these stories aren’t disappointing, coming on the heels of some very important plot developments, but I gather they’re meant to function as a palliative bridge between a dramatic story arc and whatever lies ahead, so I can’t fault them too much.

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

Goong, Vol. 8

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Goong, Volume 8
By Park SoHee
Published by Yen Press


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It’s one step forward, two steps back for Shin and Chae-Kyung, as the new openness shakily established between them is blown away by Shin’s resolve to remain Crown Prince–a reaction to the news of his mother’s pregnancy. Both Shin and Chae-Kyung fall back on their own worst habits, with Shin presenting the news as an irrefutable barrier to Chae-Kyung’s future freedom and Chae-Kyung rebelling with all her might. Taking advantage of the situation, Yul throws Chae-Kyung a lifeline, but will it really have the effect she hopes for?

Though Shin’s bullying and Chae-Kyung’s temper continue to be the real barrier to their happiness–both together and as individuals–it is the Queen’s pregnancy that exacerbates everything in this volume, putting Shin on the defensive (on behalf of both his mother and his wife) and making Chae-Kyung further aware of the gravity of her position. Having been asked to assume the Queen’s duties during her pregnancy, Chae-Kyung becomes more mired in tedious palace workings than ever, bringing a new desperation to the promise of divorce, though that promise has now been cruelly retracted.

That Yul finds a way to exploit this comes as no surprise (he is his mother’s son, after all) but it does shed some incredibly unflattering light on how far he is willing to go to get what he wants, even if it ultimately hurts the person he claims to love. “From the start, I had no interest in becoming King,” Yul says to his horrified mother as she struggles for his cooperation. “What I wanted was to take away the most important thing to Shin, because he took away everything important to me.”

Heavy tension and anticipation make this volume’s slow pace maddening to say the least, which is a real testament to author’s skill with consistent characterization. Though it might seem like it would be a huge relief to have these characters shake off their most damaging personality traits and just work things out already, the result would be utter destruction of everything Park SoHee has worked so hard to create. I, for one, am grateful that she has not taken that tempting, deadly road.

The one truly distressing thing about this volume is the re-emergence of Eunuch Kong, who remains this series’ most unfortunate trait. That aside, fans should find plenty to angst over and enjoy in the latest installment of Goong.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Rasetsu, Vol. 4

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Rasetsu, Vol. 4
By Chika Shiomi
Published by Viz Media


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Ghostly hi-jinx continue in this volume, as Rasetsu becomes more aware of her feelings for Yako, finally compelling her to do something about it. Realizing that his chances may be running out, Kuryu decides to make a move of his own. Meanwhile, Yako discovers how to amplify his powers (much to Kuryu’s chagrin) and Rasetsu receives a visit from her dreaded future lover.

At first glance, volume four of Ratsetsu seems very much like the first three. Early chapters featuring humorous takes on Kuryu and Yako’s growing rivalry and the gang getting stuck in an elevator offer up the same kind of light, enjoyable froth that has made up most of the series so far. In the volume’s later chapters, however, Shiomi ramps up the drama to great effect.

Yako’s stunningly cold manipulation of Kuryu’s equally stunning arrogance is awesome in every sense of the word, casting new light on Yako’s character and shocking Kuryu to the core, something I’ve wanted to see happen for a while. On the other hand, this turn of events leads directly to Kuryu’s accelerated pursuit of Rasetsu, which seems likely to cause pain for everyone (including himself) down the line.

Even four volumes in, Kuryu is still a mystery. With his immense power (now no longer hidden), he seems both dangerous and potentially sinister. Yet he often appears genuinely sincere, especially regarding Rasetsu and his feelings for her. Was his early Seishirō Sakurazuka (Tokyo Babylon) vibe a red herring? It’s too early to know for sure.

Though this series will never be more than standard supernatural shojo fare, that’s not exactly a bad thing. Rasetsu plays out familiar tropes with enthusiasm, offering up the kind of casual, comforting read one often craves at the end of a long day. With this volume’s fresh dose of drama and romance, things won’t be getting old anytime soon.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Vampire Knight 9 by Matsuri Hino: C+

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After the revelations in volume eight, the world of Vampire Knight goes—please pardon my indelicacy, but this is really the only way to put it—batshit crazy.

Pureblood vampire Rido Kuran (our villain) completes his resurrection and summons his followers to him. Said followers feel no compunction about snacking on the day class students of Cross Academy, so the noble vampires of the night class must protect them. Kaname challenges the vampire senate, Zero gains thorny super powers along with some self-control, Yuki squares off against Rido, and the Hunters Association arrives to exterminate the night class, but is held off by Headmaster Cross and his hunter pal, Toga.

This synopsis might make it seem as if the volume is action-packed, but “incoherent” is actually closer to the truth. I honestly have no idea why half of this stuff is going on. Perhaps it’s because it’s been three months since I read volume eight, but that just goes to show how little of this series is actually memorable beyond its main characters and its prettiness. Zero’s evolution is genuinely interesting, though, and makes for some cool moments near the end of the volume.

The art of this series is usually its best asset, but Hino’s style is far more suited for depicting pretty, angsty vampires than scenes of battle. Many times, I was left puzzled by what was happening—“‘Shunk?!’ What just went ‘Shunk?!’”—and kept confusing Rido and Toga, since they both have wavy shoulder-length black hair and an unruly forelock.

I am left to conclude that Vampire Knight is like a morsel of dark chocolate: its bittersweet taste lingers on your tongue while you’re consuming it, but its impact doesn’t last much beyond that moment.

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

Excel Saga Volume 1

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By Rikdo Koshi. Released in Japan by Shonen Gahosha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Young King OURS. Released in North America by Viz.

One of my all-time favorite manga series, I want to review this from the start, mostly because the general reaction I get when I mention it is “Wait, that’s still running?” Or even worse, “Wait, that was a manga?”. A classic case of Adaptation Displacement, the anime that was released over here in 2002 was wildly popular, and the manga, coming out about a year and a half later, ended up disappointing fans who wanted more over the top lunacy.

But back to the beginning. First there was Rikdo Koshi the doujinshi artist, who did fan parody comics for various series running in the 1990s, including Card Captor Sakura. He also had an original hentai doujinshi that was collected into a volume called Municipal Force Daitenzin, a sentai parody about a group of idiotic people in powered suits trying to save the day. Two minor characters in that doujinshi series were the villain of the piece and his hyperactive, incompetent assistant. When Shonen Gahosha gave Rikdo the opportunity to create his own manga, he cut out the pornographic bits and made Excel and Il Palazzo the focus.

And so we have Volume 1, which seems very odd to read coming at it about 15 years later, with Volume 23 just having been released in Japan. We are introduced to our main cast working for the secret organization ACROSS: Excel, the still hyperactive and incompetent minion; Il Palazzo, her cold yet bishonen superior with a fondness for dropping her into a pit of water at the slightest provocation; Hyatt, a fellow minion at ACROSS with a nasty tendency to cough up blood and drop over dead; and Mince, a put upon puppy who gets deemed ’emergency food’ by Excel.

We also meet three of her neighbors, Iwata, Watanabe, and Sumiyoshi, but as yet they are not part of the main plot and almost seem to be off in their own separate manga. Notable is Watanabe’s first meeting with Hyatt, beginning his obsessive crush with her, and also Sumiyoshi’s tendency to communicate only in captions behind his head. (He also “speaks” in the manga in a heavy Geordie accent, Carl Horn’s attempt to show his Okayama accent while getting out of the Brooklyn/Southern trap most Viz or ADV manga fell into. Strangely, it works, though the phonetic absolutism of the accent can make him hard to interpret.)

At this point, the manga is still finding its feet, and there’s not much of the overreaching plot we’ll get in future volumes. There’s also not much here the anime watcher will recognize. The manga was only up to Volume 4 when it was licensed for anime, and the publisher requested that the anime not actually use the manga’s plotline (hence the “I agree to let Excel Saga be turned into a ______ anime” shtick). So the characters and basic plot (ACROSS tries to take over the world and fails) are the same, but the details are altered.

The humor is also a bit different. There is still some slapstick violence, and Excel shows her remarkable endurance even in the first chapter, but the comedy here stems from wordplay and ridiculous situations. Excel’s part-time jobs come before her minioning, as a girl has to eat, and we can also see from some of her complex rambling speeches (going off about the phylum and order of cave crickets, for example) that she’s quite intelligent. Excel isn’t stupid, just crazy, impetuous and a bit broken. Notably, when joined by Hyatt she starts to comment wryly on her health state, and shows signs of becoming a deadpan snarker. She’ll develop this far more once Elgala shows up in Volume 8.

There are occasional references to the anime in this translation, which is adapted and edited by Carl Horn and Dan Kanemitsu. Several jokes are Westernized, but notably the endnotes also note the original Japanese joke as well, which works out fine. Amusing bits include noting that Rikdo asked the anime version of Excel Saga not to have any panty shots (especially amusing if you know how fanservicey Excel Saga gets in later volumes), as well as Il Palazzo calling Jesus Christ a criminal of the State worse than Hitler and Aum Shinrikyo, much to Excel’s horror. (In case anyone is wondering, this is the scene they didn’t dare put in the anime, as the back cover notes.)

Excel Saga Volume 1 is just plain fun. It doesn’t have the healthy backstory we’ll get in future volumes, but you don’t need that right away. Instead, you just have fun watching Excel and Hyatt fail desperately for the glory of Il Palazzo, and her next-door neighbors assaulting each other for random slights. It’s a fun, funny manga.

Angel: Long Night’s Journey by Brett Matthews and Joss Whedon: C-

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From the back cover:
An enemy from Angel’s past has come to L.A., and enlisted three powerful supernatural creatures to break Angel’s spirit before killing him. In one catastrophic night, Angel has to figure out who’s after him, and then bring him down, in a climactic battle above the glittering Los Angeles skyline.

Review:
Wow, this is really lousy. It’s written at least partly by Joss, but it’s so lackluster that it’d pass for something written by Keith R. A. DeCandido.

The basic plot is thus: a boobalicious snake lady (Joss seems to like these, since one appears in the Buffy season 8 comics), a fiery stone guy, and a knight with a glowy sword all attack Angel and are eventually bested. A symbol on the knight’s chest (Joss seems to like this idea, too, since it also figures into the season 8 comics) clues him in to the fact that his foe is a Chinese vampire he once met.

Turns out the Chinese vamp is upset because he was supposed to be the champion vamp with a soul but instead Angel has that role. This plot is pretty irksome, because it all of a sudden introduces notions like that when Angel was cursed, he was just a test subject for the real deal, and that perhaps the soul he received isn’t even his. It’s annoying and vague and I’m happy all of these ideas were dropped along with Dark Horse’s publication of Angel comics after this miniseries.

The art is competent enough except that nobody looks like they should. I conducted a test by obscuring all but one panel, which featured Cordelia and Wesley, and asking my Whedon-loving coworker, “Who are these people?” She stared at it for a full minute and could not hazard a guess, even though she’d surmised the answer was probably Whedon-related. Cordelia comes off the worst, looking either trampy or middle-aged, and sometimes both at once. Still, it’s so nice to see her appear in a comic at all that I have revised the grade slightly upward from the D this dreck truly deserves.

Shugo Chara! Vol. 8

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By Peach-Pit
Del Ray, 192 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

In volume seven, Ikuto spilled the truth to Tadase about hiding out at Amu’s, sending Tadase running in anger and humiliation. With Ikuto now back in the clutches of Easter, Yoru is desperate for Amu to help, but she’s less than enthusiastic about being expected to save Ikuto once again when she’d rather be taking care of her own problems. Meanwhile, thanks to a visit with Kukai and his brothers, Tadase is reminded that sometimes people don’t say what they mean.

This volume is all about the complexities of growing up and being forced to recognize and respect the reality of life’s gray areas, including those within yourself. While Amu is facing the consequences of her lie being revealed to Tadase, Nagihiko is resigned to living with his, proving that maintaining a lie can ultimately be much more painful than being caught in one. Similarly, Tadase must learn that becoming the person he wishes to be means letting go of long-held grudges and viewing the people in his life (and even the events of the past) with fresh eyes.

From the beginning, Peach-Pit has used the series’ magical girl format as little more than a rough foundation for a much deeper story about trust and self-acceptance. The last couple of volumes have hit this theme hard, particularly in the way they’ve handled the subject of lying—why a person might choose to lie (or not) and what that really means. Unwilling to tell a simple morality tale, this series’ dedication to shades of gray underneath its cheery, bubblegum surface continues to make it a worthwhile read for adults as well as for young girls.

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

Shugo Chara! Vol. 7

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Shugo Chara!, Vol. 7
By Peach-Pit
Published by Del Ray Manga

As this volume opens, Nadeshiko’s twin, Nagihiko, enrolls in Seiyo Elementary with a big secret he feels unable to share with Amu. Ikuto escapes from Easter with his violin, but a mysterious illness brings him to Amu’s doorstep in a wholly unexpected fashion. With Ikuto hiding out in Amu’s bedroom, Tadase chooses an unfortunate time to confess his feelings (one that comes back to haunt him shortly after) and Amu learns a hard lesson about the consequences of underestimating the people who trust her most.

This is a fairly heavy volume in this deceptively light-hearted series, with both Amu and Nagihiko caught in lies they can’t find their way out of, and Amu’s relationships with Tadase and Ikuto becoming muddier all the time. After all, it’s really two love confessions she receives in this volume, even if Ikuto’s must be necessarily masked by humor while he waits for her to “Hurry up and grow up.” Whether it’s creepy for a seventeen-year-old to be in love with a twelve-year-old is a dicy question, certainly. Considering the book’s intended readership I’m inclined to chalk it up to pre-teen fantasy, which mainly leaves me wishing I’d had something like this to read when I was twelve.

The best moment in this volume, however, is between Amu and her mother. After being caught sneaking out of the bathroom with a freshly-showered Ikuto, Amu’s mom sits her down for a talk about trust, but not the one readers might expect. Instead, she expresses her disappointment in Amu for not trusting her parents enough to tell them about what was going on with Ikuto so that they could help work out a suitable solution (presumably one less likely to compromise their daughter’s virtue). This scene is both touching and timely, since it gives Amu the information she needs to understand what happens next with Tadase.

Another striking scene in this volume takes place between Amu and Ikuto’s sister, Utau, who chastises Amu for being too much of a child to understand the importance of power in the world. “Kids who have no power like us or weak people like my mother will be crushed by a larger power and no one will notice … That’s why I wanted power. Lots of power so we won’t get crushed.”

This is not an unusual speech to hear from a manga character with a troubled childhood. What’s special about it in this series, however, is that despite its shiny sugar coating, Shugo Chara! does not come down clearly on either side of the argument. The series portrays Amu’s environment amongst adults who truly can be trusted right alongside Utau’s dog-eat-dog world, fully embracing the contradiction and unfairness of life in a way that feels unexpected in this kind of story. Similarly, though the story consistently demonstrates the power of people working together, it doesn’t attempt to pretend that this can heal all wounds. Utau comes to Amu, not because she thinks Amu is filled with sparkly goodness that makes everything all right, but because Amu has power and she wants her to use it.

My favorite character here, however, is Nagihiko. Though I don’t wish to spoil, I must mention how much I appreciate the way Peach-Pit has taken shojo gender-bending clichés and made them into something real rather than just playing them for laughs. “Amu-chan wants to see Nadeshiko, not me,” Nagihiko says, dreading the appearance of the person he most wants to see. His story is fantastic and well-written from the beginning, and I wish there were more like it.

With Easter’s latest plot quickly coming to a head, the next few volumes will certainly be action-packed. Fortunately, that action will be built on the strong foundation laid by this tense, emotionally rich volume. Enjoy!

Check out my review of Shugo Chara! Vol. 8 in tomorrow’s Manga Minis at PopCultureShock!

13th Boy, Vol. 3

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13th Boy, Vol. 3
By SangEun Lee
Published by Yen Press


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A volunteer outing with the Scouts gives Hee-So a new opportunity to get close to Won-Jun, but a blatant demonstration of Won-Jun’s devotion to Sae-Bom gets things off to a painful start. It would seem that revelation is the theme of the day, as Whie-Young finally forces Hee-So to remember the details of their childhood together. Later on, the full moon offers cactus Beatrice to the chance to seek out some answers about his supernatural origins, leading to some shocking truths for him as well as for his unwitting creator.

Love parallelograms are all well and good but there is no question that this volume’s real excitement is The Truth About Beatrice, possibly the weirdest and most wonderful bit of manhwa eccentricity I’ve encountered so far. Even as no more than a talking cactus, Beatrice was an undeniable highlight of my comics experience, but with the stakes raised and secrets peeling away rapidly, it’s hard to imagine what could top him. Also, though the series has positioned Whie-Young as Hee-So’s destined love since the very beginning, I really can’t help myself. I’m rooting for the cactus.

Fabulous whimsy aside, what really makes this series work is Hee-So. Though she is self-centered, pushy, and occasionally conniving, unlike some other boy-crazed manhwa heroines (Sarasah‘s Ji-Hae springs immediately to mind), she is also funny, oddly practical, and above all, immensely likable. Her most attractive characteristics are also her most contradictory, which is honestly half the fun. She is incredibly stubborn, yet open-minded enough to accept some fairly outrageous realities. She believes deeply in fated true love but has been through twelve boyfriends on her way to find it. Even in her most self-involved moments (and there are many of them), she’s able to consider questions such as whether or not her cactus might be going through puberty. She’s a complete mess, but she’s a mess with a mission and I find it impossible not to love her.

Just three volumes in, this series has become a real favorite for me. With its mix of supernatural oddities and quirky romance, 13th Boy offers something for both fans of cracktastic ’80s shojo manga and modern romantic manhwa. Highly recommended.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Sexy Voice and Robo and Harriet the Spy

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harriet2First published in 1964, Harriet the Spy featured a radically different kind of heroine than the sweet, obedient girls found in most mid-century juvenile lit; Harriet was bossy, self-centered, and confident, with a flair for self-dramatization and a foul mouth. She favored fake glasses, blue jeans, and a “spy tool” belt over angora sweaters or skirts, and she roamed the streets of Manhattan doing the kind of reckless, bold things that were supposed to be off-limits to girls: peering through skylights, hiding in alleys, concealing herself in dumbwaiters, filling her notebooks with scathing observations about classmates and neighbors. Perhaps the most original aspect of Louise Fitzhugh’s character was Harriet’s complete and utter commitment to the idea of being a writer; unlike Nancy Drew, Harriet wasn’t a goody-goody sleuth who wanted to help others, but a ruthless observer of human folly who viewed spying as necessary preparation for becoming an author.

Even now, nearly sixty years after Harriet the Spy first appeared in print, it still seems like a radical text. Fitzhugh helped usher in an era of young adult fiction featuring tough, psychologically complex heroines who weren’t always likable, characters like the plain, frizzy-haired Meg Murray of A Wrinkle in Time or the smart, prickly Galadriel Hopkins of The Great Gilly Hopkins. Yet Harriet remains in her own special class. Unlike Meg or Gilly, she isn’t the heroine of an inter-dimensional sci-fi epic or a gritty, realistic drama; she’s the heroine of her own story, a self-mythologizing character who inhabits a highly romanticized version of the adult world.

sexy_voiceNico Hayashi, code name “Sexy Voice,” is a bit older than Harriet — Nico is 14, Harriet is 11 — but she’s cut from the same bolt of cloth, as Sexy Voice and Robo amply demonstrates. Like Harriet, Nico entertains fanciful ambitions: “I want to be a spy when I grow up, or maybe a fortune teller,” she informs her soon-to-be-employer. “Either way, I’m in training. A pro has to hone her skills.” Nico, too, has a spy outfit — in her case, comprised of a wig and falsies — and an assortment of “spy tools” that include her cell phone and a stamp that allows her to forge her parents’ signature on notes excusing her from school. Like Harriet, Nico hungers for the kind of adventure that’s supposed to be off-limits to girls, skipping school to pursue leads, analyzing a kidnapper’s ransom call, luring bad guys into traps. Most importantly, both girls are students of adult behavior. Both Harriet the Spy and Sexy Voice and Robo include a scene in which the heroine constructs detailed character profiles from a few snippets of conversation. The similarities between these moments are striking. In Fitzhugh’s book, Harriet visits a neighborhood diner, nursing an egg cream while listening to other customers’ conversations:

Sometimes she would play a game and not look at the people until from listening to them she had decided what they looked like. Then she would turn around and see if she were right… Her egg cream finished, Harriet summed up her guesses. The boy with the rat father would be skinny, have black hair, and a lot of pimples. The lawyer who won all his cases would be short, puffy-looking, and be leaning forward. She got no picture of the shadeless girl, but decided she must be fat. She turned around.

In Sexy Voice and Robo, we first meet Nico in a restaurant. She’s stationed herself in a booth with a pair of binoculars, studying an assortment of men who have unwittingly arranged to meet her via the tele-club where Nico moonlights. When questioned about her behavior by another patron, Nico cheerfully explains:

See those men down there holding papers? I’m conducting research on them… observing… connecting their voices to the way they look and move.

Like Harriet, Nico is rather dismissive of her subjects, concluding that one man is “fixated on social status” and “needs to feel above the women he’s with” from his “clear but flat voice,” while declaring another is “just after sex” because “he’s got kind of a reedy voice and he mumbles a lot.” But while the accuracy of Nico’s observations go unchallenged, Harriet’s turn out to be a mixture of hits and misses:

At first she couldn’t tell. Then she saw the by with black hair and pimples. She felt a surge of triumph. She looked at what must be the lawyer, one of two men. Then she listened to see of he were the one. No, the other one was the lawyer. He wasn’t short and fat, he was long and thin with a handsome face. She consoled herself with a faint puffiness he had around the eyes.

Well, no wonder she won’t walk around in a slip, Harriet thought, looking at the girl with no shades; she’s the fattest thing I ever saw.

Manga-ka Iou Kuroda never contradicts Nico’s conclusions, though as the story unfolds, we realize the degree to which Nico sees what she wants to see, and not necessarily what’s there. Late in the volume, for example, Nico’s employer dispatches her to retrieve a key from a crafty old woman who, Nico discovers, was a professional spy. It’s a fascinating chapter on many levels; we’re never entirely sure if we’re watching a real event or something from Nico’s imagination, nor is it obvious whether Nico grasps that the old woman led a far less glamorous life than the kind of life Nico envisions for herself. “I did it because I was good with languages and wasn’t very pretty,” the old woman tells Nico. “Sometimes it’s your skills and not your will that sets you on your path.”

The other striking similarity between Harriet the Spy and Sexy Voice and Robo is the degree to which the city plays an essential role in the story, providing an exciting playground for Harriet and Nico to act out their spy fantasies, and shaping their impressions of adult behavior. In Harriet the Spy, Fitzhugh renders Harriet’s particular corner of the Upper East Side in vivid detail, describing its fancy apartment buildings and down-at-the-heels boarding houses, and contrasting the neat, tree-lined street where Harriet lives with the louder, dirtier, bustling streets of Yorktown, then a working class German-Italian enclave. We see the neighborhood through Harriet’s eyes, as a collection of hiding spaces and vantage points for studying adults up close: the plump divorcee who spends all day in bed talking on the telephone, the lonely craftsman who hides twenty-six cats from the health code inspector, the father (hers, to be exact) who retires to his study to nurse a martini or three.

In Sexy Voice and Robo, Kuroda shows us Tokyo through Nico’s eyes, as a vibrant collection of shopping districts lined with places perfect for clandestine activities: cafes, movie houses, love hotels, bookshops, subway stations. Kuroda doesn’t employ the usual shortcuts for establishing the Tokyo landscape — skyscrapers and towers — but offers a pedestrian-eye view of the city, populating each setting with colorful characters, filling shop windows with merchandise, and suggesting street noise with evocative sound effects. From time to time, Kuroda takes us into less familiar places; in chapter eleven, for example, Nico finds the retired spy living in a serene residential neighborhood, her house concealed by a screen of trees and shrubs, while in chapter three, Nico attends a soccer match at a crowded stadium. Though these locations stand in stark contrast to the more built-up urban environment in which most of the story takes place, we can see how both locales complement Nico’s romantic notions about where, what, and how a spy conducts her business; Nico’s adventures never take her anyplace grungy or prosaic, nor do they take her to customary teen haunts. In her mind, she’s more adult than the adults around her, and as a consequence imagines herself living in the grown-up world.

Which brings me back to my original observation about Nico: like Harriet, she’s a self-mythologizer, the star of her very own spy novel. Though we, the readers, can appreciate the degree to which Nico’s fantasies shape her perception of what’s happening, we still find her an appealing, true-to-life character whose pluck and insight set her apart from her peers. Nico, like Harriet, has big dreams that aren’t hemmed in by gender or age; she isn’t the least bit worried about appearances or impressing a boy or solving mysteries for the good of all, but in hustling a few bucks and training for an exciting career as a spy… or a fortune teller. I can’t imagine a more welcome role model for teenage girls.

This essay is one contribution to this week’s Moveable Manga Feast, a virtual book club in which bloggers share thoughts about a favorite series. For additional entries, please visit The Manga Curmudgeon, where host David Welsh has posted reviews, interviews, and links to essays exploring Sexy Voice and Robo from a variety of angles.

HARRIET THE SPY • WRITTEN AND ILLUSTRATED BY LOUISE FITZHUGH • RANDOM HOUSE • 300 pp. • AGES 10 AND UP

SEXY VOICE AND ROBO • BY IOU KURODA • VIZ • 394 pp. • RATING: OLDER TEEN (16+)

Slam Dunk 8 by Takehiko Inoue: B+

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slamdunk8After an admirable performance in an exhibition game against a tough rival, the Shohoku High basketball team is ready to get back to practice, but a gang of thugs with a grudge against team member Ryota Miyagi makes that impossible. They invade the court with the intent of starting a brawl that’ll get the Shohoku team disqualified from competition. Just when the thugs have been beaten back, with help from Hanamichi’s pals, assistant captain Kogure reveals that the lead punk, Mitsui, was once a promising member of the team.

What follows is a multi-chapter tale of hubris, wounded knees, and wasted potential, and it might perhaps seem rather pointless if not for all the heartfelt emotion on display and the certainty that Mitsui will once again rejoin the team. Kogure, typically very mild in manner, shows he’s tougher than he looks while Mitsui does the opposite when confronted by Coach Anzai, whom he dearly loves and respects.

All in all, there’s very little actual basketball in this volume but there is a lot of team building, which makes for a very enjoyable reading experience.

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