Link Blogging

I probably wouldn’t have picked up Bakuman (Viz) on my own. I can’t remember the exact reasons for that decision, but I’m sure they had something to do with the notion of people who make comics making a comic about people who make comics. It’s not a favorite subject unless the people who make those comics happen to be French.  But Viz sent me a review copy of the third volume, so I figured, “Why not?” Now, in spite of the fact that Bakuman has few of the elements I usually look for in a comic I’m likely to enjoy, I have to go find the first two volumes.

So what are those things that I usually like that are absent here? For one, I like engaging protagonists. Writer Tsugumi Ohba and illustrated Takeshi Obata (you may recall them from Death Note, also from Viz) tell the tale of would-be mangaka, writer Akito Takagi and illustrator Moritaka Mashiro as they try and build their careers. They’re in high school, but that’s not improbable on its face, and they seem to be making some traction. Unfortunately, they’re boring people. Neither displays the quirky passion that makes for a great shônen hero with a dream.

For another, I like a story with stakes. While the stakes are enormous for Takagi and Mashiro, I didn’t share their urgency at all. Maybe I’ll be better able to invest in their dreams after reading the first two volumes, but that still leaves the fact that these boys don’t have much going for them. On the subplot front, each has a girlfriend of sorts. Mashiro’s wants to be a voice actress in anime, and Takagi’s is the sporty, outgoing type. If either girl ever went an inch beyond type, I can’t remember it. And I also like interesting female characters, so there’s another strike.

And while I generally have no problem with dialogue-driven storytelling (hi, Fumi Yoshinaga!), Bakuman indulges in this approach to a ridiculous extreme. I remember thinking that the final volume of Death Note was just one big word bubble, and Bakuman shares that tendency to natter. It’s all tell, and virtually no show.

So why do I feel compelled to pick up the previous and future volumes? It’s because I suspect that Bakuman’s failings as shônen are entirely the point. Why else would Ohba and Obata go to such lengths to have their characters articulate what makes great shônen manga, to fully explore its key elements, only to willfully avoid incorporating them into their own actual manga? I’m casting my vote with “intentionally postmodern.”

Ohba an Obata talk a lot about manga, not simply as a creative process but as a profession. They talk about the vagaries of popularity, the self-perpetuating structure of magazines like Shônen Jump, the tyranny of reader polls, the weird formula of creative inspiration and commercial instinct, and so on. It’s not quite cynical, but it’s certainly frank, especially when you consider the fact that it actually runs in Shônen Jump, the very magazine it routinely criticizes. Of course, the criticism is generally reasoned and sounds fair, but still.

Without the almost clinical self-examination of the manga industry, there really wouldn’t be anything to take away from Bakuman. But the examination is there, and it’s undeniably compelling. I don’t really care if Takagi and Mashiro become big successes or fail miserably, but I don’t think I’m supposed to care. I think I’m supposed to enjoy the fact that Ohba and Obata are peeling back the curtain and showing that the creation of thrilling fantasy can be very dull indeed.

Update: Deb (About.Com) Aoki spreads the word about Viz’s Bakuman Fan Art Contest.

… to use this panel to illustrate a post. Any excuse at all.

In this case, it’s because MJ, Kate Dacey and I have formed our manga blogging battle robot to talk over the 12th and 13th volumes of Osamu Tezuka’s Black Jack (Vertical) over at Manga Bookshelf.

We adopted a dog not too long ago. Her previous owner had passed away, and she was being fostered by a kind family in a neighboring town. She’s about two years old and small, apparently some kind of hybrid of Chihuahua and Dachshund, and yes, she looks as odd as that combination suggests. (We’ve unofficially labeled the hybrid “Gummi Weasel,” but we have yet to hear back from the AKC.)

She’s adorable and quirky and we love her very much. Of course, introducing an animal into a new house never goes flawlessly, at least in my experience, but we’re doing our best to convince her that our home is her home and that we’ll always have her best interests at heart, while reassuring our preexisting brood that they’re loved every bit as much as they were before this little alien moved in.

During this gradual and pleasurable process, I’m reminded of the many things Kanata Konami gets exactly right in creating Chi’s Sweet Home (Vertical). I say “reminded,” because I’m sure we relearned all this the last time we welcomed a new animal, but I guess it’s a much milder version of what some people say about childbirth: you forget the negatives, and you just remember the outcome.

The beauty of Chi’s Sweet Home isn’t in its narrative sweep but in the way that Konami captures specific beats in the process of being a pet owner. Yes, there are plenty of kittenish antics from the titular feline, but the spine of the series is her human family adapting to their shared responsibility for this furry little creature. They shift things around in their household to make sure Chi is both safer and less prone to mischief. They take her to the veterinarian. They figure out what kind of food she likes. They trim her nails. They make choices and sacrifices that responsible people make when they add an animal to their family.

If the book was simply about a cute kitten doing cute things, I don’t believe it would be nearly as successful as it is. Powerful a force as cuteness is, care-giving isn’t all romping with plush toys and blissful naps. It’s sometimes messy, sometimes expensive, and sometimes inconvenient. The cuteness is the reward, as is the affection and the gradually strengthening bond between pet and owner. (This is one of the reasons that I think Chi’s Sweet Home would be a great comic for a kid, since the work end of the equation isn’t neglected.)

Over at Comics Alliance, David Brothers gives a persuasive summary of the book’s strong points, noting that Konami has a good grasp of feline behavior. This is absolutely true, and she doesn’t over-anthropomorphize Chi’s antics. She doesn’t need to, because she finds all of these telling moments in the warmly everyday relationship between humans and pet.

Brothers also notes Konami’s willingness to fold sadness into the narrative, which is also entirely correct. I knew it was dramatically successful when I originally read the sequences Brothers describes. But I know it’s accurate from watching our new dog have moments when she seems to remember that our house hasn’t always been her house, that she’s had other, meaningful people in her life, and that something inside her amounts to unfinished business. And if you ignore those moments or reject them, you miss the fullness of the experience that Konami is describing. I never thought I’d use the phrase “mono no aware” to describe a manga about a kitten, but I guess that’s what you get when it’s a seinen manga about a kitten.

So, as we continue to welcome our new little citizen to the household, I’ll certainly keep up with Chi’s immersion in her new home. And I’ll probably have a Gummi Weasel on my lap as I do so.

(This review is based on complimentary copies provided by the publisher.)

After the announcement of one of my favorite annual award programs, the Great Graphic Novels for Teens, I decided it might be fun to look at all of the books in the top ten this year. Since the list is always interesting and varied, it’s less of a homework assignment than a usefully structured pleasure.

I wish I could claim some metaphorical design in my first choice, but it was made at random. There’s nothing random about Drew Weing’s Set to Sea, though, which publisher Fantagraphics describes as “part rollicking adventure, part maritime ballad told in visual rhyme.” If that last part sounds a little pretentious, don’t worry. Fantagraphics’ solicitations always sound a little pretentious, even when they’re absolutely true.

Weing’s story does have the shapeliness of a poem, and it has the careful structure of a three-act play. It follows a would-be poet as he becomes an unwilling participant in the kind of seafaring adventures he tries to set to verse. In spite of his imposing size, he’s a tentative sort, and the brutality of life at sea takes a while to penetrate. When it does, he still maintains his artist’s viewpoint, and Weing neatly persuades us that art of any sort is better with some life experience to inform it.

That may seem to be a little ironic, given that Set to Sea is Weing’s debut graphic novel. He’s an experienced creator of webcomics, though, and that’s where this book was born. Consequently, each page is a single panel, but each of those panels is so attractively detailed and evocative that the storytelling structure never feels rigid. Instead, it comes across as economical and precise while still filled with event and emotion. It’s a quick read, but it’s very satisfying, and it just invites you to revisit the story again.

You could read it online, obviously, but the physical package is very handsome and worth the investment. In dimension, it’s like a diary or sketchbook that a traveler would carry, appropriately enough. Kevin (Robot 6) Melrose listed its cover as one of the best of 2010, and he’s quite right. The book itself wound up on a number of Best of 2010 lists, including Andrew Salmond’s and Martin Steenton’s at Forbidden Planet International, Brigid Alverson’s at Robot 6, and the Vulture blog of New York Magazine, and Glen Weldon of NPR’s Monkey See counted it among his most memorable comics and graphic novels of the year.

Set to Sea offers a wonderful beginning to this little project of mine. It’s artistically successful on every front, but Weing’s substantial craftsmanship never overwhelms the simple, heartfelt story he’s telling.

Other reviews in this intermittent series:

• The Zabîme Sisters, written and illustrated by Aristophane, First Second

You can nominate titles for the next Great Graphic Novel for Teen List, and you can take a look at the current batch of contenders.

 

Thanks to Sean (A Case Suitable for Treatment) Gaffney for tweeting the news that the nominees for the 2011 Manga Taisho Awards have been announced. (Here’s Wikipedia’s entry on the awards with lists of nominees and winners from previous years.) Khursten (Otaku Champloo) Santos has already taken a look at the nominees, but I’m totally obsessed with this awards program, so I can’t resist mentioning them here at possibly ridiculous length.

I Am a Hero, written and illustrated by Kengo Hanazawa, seinen, serialized in Shogakukan’s Big Comic Spirits, also nominated last year. It’s about a mangaka whose working and personal lives are disrupted by a possibly delusional, sinister conspiracy.

A Bride’s Story, written and illustrated by Kaoru Mori, seinen, serialized in Enterbrain’s Fellows!, due for publication in English from Yen Press. Mori is already much loved by English-language manga readers for Emma and Shirley (both from CMX). A Bride’s Story “tells the tale of a beautiful young bride in nineteenth-century Asia,” as she prepares for an arranged marriage with a much-younger man.

Omo ni Naitemasu, written and illustrated by Akiko Higashimura, seinen, serialized in Kodansha’s Morning. It’s a comedy about the mistress and muse of an artist. Higashimura seems to be something of a favorite with the Taisho panel, having been nominated for Kuragehime (from Kodansha’s Kiss) last year, Mama ha Tenparist (from Shueisha’s Chorus) in 2009, and Himawari (from Kodansha’s Morning) in 2008. She hasn’t won a Taisho yet, but it seems like it’s only a matter of time.

Kokkoku, written and illustrated by Seita Horio, seinen, serialized in Kodansha’s Morning Two. I can’t find much information, other than that it’s an action-mystery story. It also seems to be Horio’s debut ongoing.

Sayonara mo Iwazu ni, written and illustrated by Kentarô Ueno, seinen, serialized in Enterbrain’s Comic Beam. Again, I’m somewhat at a loss, but the title loosely translates to something like “Silent Goodbye.” “Without Even Saying Goodbye.” (Thanks, Travis!)

Saru, written and illustrated by Daisuke Igarashi, seinen, serialized in Shogakukan’s IKKI. It’s about a supernatural war between the physical and mental sides of an ancient and powerful being of some sort, so it sounds like it’s very much in Igarashi’s wheelhouse. You may be familiar with Igarashi from his wonderful Children of the Sea, which Viz is serializing on its SigIKKI site.

March Comes in Like a Lion, written and illustrated by Chica Umino, seinen, serialized in Hakusensha’s Young Animal, also nominated in 2009. It’s a slice-of-life story about a gifted but antisocial shogi player. You may be familiar with Umino from her wonderful Honey and Clover (Viz).

Un chocolatier de l’amour perdu, written and illustrated by Setona Mizushiro, josei, serialized in Shogakukan’s Flowers and Rinka, published in French as Heartbroken Chocolatier by Kazé. It’s about a lovelorn candy maker with a possibly unfaithful girlfriend. You may be familiar with Mizushiro from X-Day (Tokyopop), After School Nightmare (Go! Comi), or from previous license requests.

Shingeki no Kyojin, written and illustrated by Hajime Isayama, shônen, serialized in Kodansha’s Bessatsu Shônen. It’s about the fight of a human race fighting back against the violent giants who have been terrorizing them for centuries.

Drifters, written and illustrated by Kouta Hirano, seinen, serialized in Shônen Ganosha’s Young King OURs. It’s an historical fantasy about a samurai who’s transported to a mysterious world. You may recognize Hirano from Hellsing (Dark Horse).

Don’t Cry Girl, written and illustrated by Tomoko Yamashita, shôjo, serialized in Libre Shuppan’s Kurofune Zero. I can’t find much information on the series, but you may recognize Yamashita from Black-Winged Love and Dining Bar Akira (Netcomics).

Hana no Zubora-Meshi, written by Masayuki Kuzumi, illustrated by Etsuko Mizusawa, published by Akita Shoten. I have no idea what it’s about, but the cover is cute, and it’s in the josei category.

Mashiro no Oto, written and illustrated by Marimo Ragawa, shônen, serialized in Kodansha’s Monthly Shônen Magazine. It’s about an aimless young man who finds purpose in playing the Shamisen, a traditional Japanese string instrument. You may recognize Ragawa from Baby & Me (Viz) or from N.Y.N.Y., a seminal but as-yet-unlicensed boys’ love title.

So, what are your thoughts? Any of the above titles look particularly enticing to you? Do you have any more details on any of the above? There are some terrific, established creators in the mix, along with some promising-looking newcomers.