boys' love

BL Bookrack: Ten Count, Vols. 1-2

January 19, 2017 by MJ and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MJ: Wow, it’s been… a long time hasn’t it, my friend?

MICHELLE: I am scared to even verify how long it has been. A couple of years, at least!

MJ: So what’s brought us here today is the boys’ love series Ten Count (volumes one and two ) by Rihito Takarai, published here by SuBLime. From what I understand, the series has reached five volumes (ongoing) in Japan. The third volume is due out from SuBLime next month.

MICHELLE: Would you like to start?

MJ: Sure!

Shirotani is a lifelong germaphobe, resigned to his condition, though it keeps him isolated from others. Fortunately, with the help of his understanding employer, he is able to tolerate his job as secretary to a corporate CEO. It is in the corporate line of duty, then, that he first meets Kurose, a therapist at a local mental health clinic. Kurose notices Shirotani’s condition immediately, and suggests he seek help, but though Shirotani is able to make his way to the clinic, he can’t bring himself to go inside. Acknowledging this difficulty, Kurose offers to help him in a non-clinical capacity, as a friend, an arrangement to which Shirotani eventually agrees. As Kurose slowly helps him accomplish progressively difficult tasks (touching a doorknob with his bare hand, buying a book from a bookstore), the two become close in ways that complicates their relationship and threatens the fragile boundaries between them.

Fans of BL manga don’t need me to explain what that means, or probably why my greatest fear with this series would be that the therapist/patient dynamic (even in the context of them being “friends”) would create a problematic imbalance of power. And it does, though not right away. Had I read only the first volume, this paragraph would be a very different one, gratefully dismissing my fears and filled with satisfied discussion of their slowly-evolving relationship and lots of talk about how that kind of careful development is so rare and wonderful in this genre. Had I read only the first volume, I would have declared a lot of love for this series. Unfortunately, Kurose’s careful handling of Shirotani is abandoned less than two chapters into the second volume, when after declaring his love for Shirotani, he mercilessly forces him into accepting sexual contact (against Shirotani’s clear protestations), which only escalates as the volume continues. In fact, Shirotani’s germaphobia makes the situation even more brutal, as Kurose is not only performing non-consensual sexual acts with Shirotani, but also blatantly ignoring Shirotani’s boundaries regarding skin-to-skin contact without any of the thoughtful consideration he promised as part of their initial arrangement. It’s obvious that the author intended the germaphobia as a metaphorical stand-in for the typical uke resistance so popular in BL, but instead it just feels like piling on.

MICHELLE: What I found most interesting to contemplate is that Kurose does, in fact, give Shirotani opportunity to object. He warns him that he’s going to attempt these kinds of things if they continue to see each other, and asks questions like, “Did you really not like what we did a moment ago?” Sometimes, Shirotani is able to give voice to his objections, but he also holds back his disgust, and I have to think that’s because he doesn’t want to drive Kurose, the only person to whom he has any kind of close relationship, away. How much, then, does Shirotani actually reciprocate and how much is he just desperate to keep Kurose in his life?

If I had faith that Takarai was wanting us to consider this question in a thoughtful way, I’d be fairly happy. But there are a few comments, mostly in bonus stories or author asides, that make me think she is setting up a dominant/submissive paradigm in which Kurose simply enjoys seeing Shirotani squirm, and that is very troubling indeed.

MJ: Yeah, you’re right—he often does ask Shirotani for permission to do something, or for confirmation that he’s enjoying himself, but those check-ins feel pretty empty, considering the fact that he generally moves on with what he’s doing without anything resembling actual enthusiastic consent. And if she’s trying to set up a dominant/submissive relationship, she’s doing it 50 Shades style, which only furthers my discomfort. Kurose’s behavior becomes increasingly controlling over the course of the second volume, by the end of which he has not only violated most of Shirotani’s personal and sexual boundaries, but also has begun infantilizing him to a truly creepy degree. Between declaring a preference for a “childlike” hairstyle and outright asking Shirotani to agree to be “dependent” on him, Kurose has basically given up any pretense of respect or even basic acknowledgement of Shirotani’s agency as an (older!!) adult man. It is a testament to the strength of the series’ first volume that I’m even still reading this thing. But I would be lying if I said that it hadn’t broken my heart.

I understand that rape fantasy is a thing, and that it’s in poor taste to judge other people (especially femme-identified people, who are this genre’s target audience) for such fantasies. And on some level, I even understand a bit why someone’s fantasy might include giving up control, though I’d probably understand that better if we lived in a world where acknowledgement of a woman’s control over her own body was not considered a radical political act. I also understand that it’s, at the very least, pointless to wish for a story to be a different one than what its author wants to tell. I know that I should simply accept that something is not for me and move on. But after a full volume of something that *seems* to be for me, that truth can be difficult to swallow.

MICHELLE: Another thing that strikes me about the questions Kurose poses is how detached and clinical they can seem, even after a sexual act. One example is, “Were you more concerned with the possibility that I found you unpleasant than whether or not you found the situation itself unpleasant?” Leaving aside the tacit admission that he knows Shirotani could’ve been finding the situation unpleasant, attempting to reassert the therapist/patient dynamic at such a moment is, well, kind of creepy.

I’m not ready to give up on the series yet. Like I said, I want to believe Takarai is trying to make a more subtle point here, but I just don’t know. If volume three is more of the same, it might be too much for me, too.

MJ: Upsides of this series that extend beyond its fairly awesome first volume include Shirotani’s sweet, understanding boss, whose constant mindfulness regarding Shirotani’s discomfort and physical boundaries paint a picture of a pretty awesome guy. Similarly, Shirotani’s acquaintance from his company’s sales department, Mikami, proves himself over and over to be a good friend and a stand-up guy. It’s a shame that these characters, who operate without personal motive and truly seem to have Shirotani’s best interests at heart aren’t the people he trusts most. I can’t help but think that if either of them knew what was going on, they’d be the first to jump to Shirotani’s defense and help him get the hell out of the abusive relationship he’s been lured into by Kurose.

MICHELLE: I liked them, too! I really wanted to believe that Shirotani was indeed able to make progress in his therapy with Mikami, as he initially claimed to do, though we later learn he was lying in hopes that he could resume seeing Kurose. Perhaps it was some kind of self-fulfilling prophecy, in a way. Like, he tried with Mikami, and had no success, and now he believes that Kurose is the key to moving forward, thus increasing his dependence. He is able to achieve some things for these people in his life, though, like when his desire to find a book to entertain his hospitalized boss results in a successful purchase at a bookstore.

Regarding Kurose and his motivations, do you think there’s still some reveal to come? When he has Shirotani write out the list of ten activities he feels aversion for, with ten being something he thinks he could never do, Shirotani leaves that one blank. Kurose refuses to divulge his reasons for helping Shirotani on his own time until Shirotani fills in that tenth item. Do we already know that it’s because he was falling in love? Or is it something like, “I’m secretly a major sadist”?

MJ: That’s a really good question! I feel like I have no idea. I mean, on one hand, things have gone so far at this point I’m sort of just expecting the usual “tortured uke” trope to continue from this point, with more and more uncomfortable sex scenes and less and less real storytelling. So I’m not as optimistic as I’d like. On one hand, the series obviously continues beyond this, but I wonder if it will continue to really explore and examine this relationship or whether it will just turn to side characters like so many deceivingly-long BL series do.

Your whole first paragraph, though, just reminds me how much I loved the first volume! Gah! I want to be optimistic!

MICHELLE: So do I, and part of me thinks there’s still room for something great to evolve from this. I’m thinking of Tomoko Yamashita’s marvelous The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, actually, in which no sexual contact has occurred, but in which one lead (Hiyakawa) casually appropriates the body of the other (Mikado) in a way that alarms others but which the affected party chooses not to think too deeply about because with Hiyakawa around, he no longer feels alone or potentially crazy for his ability to see spirits. There are some definite parallels to Ten Count there, but Yamashita is more clearly going into a psychological direction with her story, whereas Takarai seems to be taking a more traditional, explicit route.

I will still read volume three, though. How about you?

MJ: I will probably give this series one more volume, yes, even though I don’t feel as optimistic as I wish I did. Also, I’ll second your shout-out to The Night Beyond the Tricornered Window, which manages to talk about consent more thoughtfully, despite its supernatural premise. In that series, there is at least another character screaming out, “THIS IS NOT OKAY” all the time, so that we’re aware that the author knows there is a problem. It makes all the difference in the world.

MICHELLE: Indeed it does.

MJ: Bottom line, though this series starts off as a thoughtful look at the slow development of a tricky but potentially important relationship between a lonely professional who becomes friendly with a younger mental health specialist, its second volume takes a dark turn, devolving into a tale of emotional abuse, sexual assault, and deeply broken trust. We’ll probably keep reading it, but buyer beware.

Let Dai, Vols. 1-15

May 30, 2010 by MJ 7 Comments

Let Dai, Vols. 1-15 | By Sooyeon Won | Published by NETCOMICS | Rated 16+ – Jaehee Yoo is a smart, responsible high school sophomore whose life is changed forever by a single chance meeting. One afternoon in Seoul, Jaehee spots a group of young gang members mugging a girl. He attempts to intervene, and is soon introduced to the leader of the gang, Dai Lee, a cruel, seemingly conscienceless boy to whom he is inexplicably drawn. After several increasingly violent encounters, Jaehee finds himself being initiated into the gang and falling into an obsessive romantic relationship with Dai. As others in his life are drawn into Dai’s world and the suffering that inevitably brings, Jaehee struggles between his obligations to friends and family and his bond with Dai, against which he feels increasingly powerless.

Let Dai is ridiculously melodramatic, unrelentingly violent, borderline misogynistic, deeply implausible, and an incredibly compelling read. The first chapter begins with the narration, “Love was like a banquet of pain,” setting the story’s melodramatic tone from the start, but this is not a bad thing, by any means. Sooyeon Won’s sense of drama and flowery language is one of the series’ greatest charms, capable of reverting even the most jaded adult woman back to her thirteen-year-old self. Won is Emily Brontë, E.M. Forester, and S.E. Hinton all rolled up into one tragically romantic girl-pleasing package. Outside the hazy, love-drunk filter of the series, Jaehee and Dai would almost certainly be unbelievable as real-life boys, but they are so lovingly and richly written, it hardly matters. Even in the final volume, as the story’s delinquent heroes are discussing F. Scott Fitzgerald and Pablo Neruda, reciting poetry, and declaring, “It’s just like the way I love you,” to each other while bicycling attractively over a forest path, it’s impossible to stop reading.

Much is made of Dai’s impact on Jaehee’s life and the lives of those around him, but the character who actually changes the most over the course of the series is Dai. At the beginning of the story, he is written as a classic sociopath. He has no regard for his safety or the safety of others, no remorse, no empathy, no tolerance for compassion, nor does he see any value in those qualities. He is unapologetically cruel, and feels no responsibility for his own actions or desires. It is desire, however, that ultimately forces him to grow. On several occasions, Dai declares that he will not forgive Jaehee for choosing to help or fulfill a commitment to someone else, yet eventually he must in order to come back to Jaehee, whom he appears to genuinely love.

Dai’s growth is slow and sometimes deceptive. For instance, at one point he arranges to have his former gang brutally beaten in front of a girl whom they gang-raped in a questionable attempt to make amends. Of course, this action’s true aim is to free Jaehee from guilt over the incident so that he can (according to Dai’s logic) be released from his obligation to the girl and commit himself more fully to Dai. Still, there are real changes in Dai as the story goes on, as he is forced to learn to respect Jaehee’s hopes and feelings and how those extend to people other than himself.

If Dai’s journey is about learning to accept the needs of others, Jaehee’s is about learning to accept himself. Strangely, though the entire series is filled with narration in which Jaehee talks about how tragic and painful Dai’s influence on his life will be, for the most part Jaehee appears happier in his life with Dai than he was before. Yes, he’s hurt people and experienced loss, and he’s certainly felt a great deal of pain over how their relationship is received by others, but he admits more than once that he doesn’t like the parts of himself that are selfless and reliable, and is genuinely thrilled with the freedom he feels when he is with Dai. It may seem odd to support a character’s quest to become more selfish, but in this case, there is a sense that if the right balance can be found, Dai can teach Jaehee to live more for himself and for the moment, and Jaehee can teach Dai to feel responsibility for others. It is this, more than anything, that makes it possible for the reader to continue to root for the relationship even as other characters are being hurt in the process.

While the story’s initial approach to its primary relationship is filled with dire warnings of pain and suffering that hover dangerously close to homophobia, Jaehee’s appeal for his mother’s acceptance of his sexuality later on in the series is very nicely written. The author unfortunately clings to Jaehee and Dai’s obsessiveness as a bit of a crutch, allowing them to repeatedly express their devotion to each other without quite admitting what that means. Both characters claim that the gender of the other “doesn’t matter,” and their on-screen sexual relationship is surprisingly chaste. Still, Jaehee’s plea for understanding and the arguments made against it by Jaehee’s mother will be sadly familiar to many gay teenagers (and adults) who have come out to their parents, and the eventual resolution between them feels very genuine.

Despite the all-consuming quality of Jaehee’s relationship with Dai, Won manages to maintain a good-sized cast of fully realized supporting characters as well. Standouts here are Eunhyung Song, Jaehee’s almost-girlfriend whose traumatic encounter with Dai’s gang breaks her in ways from which she will never recover, and Naru Hagi, a carefree, narcissistic classmate of Jaehee’s who lends an unexpected warmth to the series. Both of these characters are just as richly developed as the two leads (perhaps even more so in the case of Eunhyung) and their personal stories are incredibly compelling.

If there is one truly regrettable thing about Let Dai it is the story’s treatment of women. It can be unfair to assume that a character’s attitudes reflect the author’s, but Dai’s hatred of women is so pronounced it is difficult to ignore. Dai is first introduced beating up a high school girl, and things go downhill from there. Certainly his character is complex and deeply troubled, and the author does not mean to suggest that his actions are okay, but it does appear that she means them to be romantic, or at least attractive on some level, which is difficult to swallow. Misogyny in stories written for women is incredibly disturbing and far too common in boys’ love, and as fantastic a read as this story is, it comes uncomfortably close to crossing that line.

NETCOMICS’ online distribution of Let Dai is a pretty good deal for those who aren’t keen on re-reads (about five dollars total to view all fifteen volumes) though the quality of the scans could stand improvement. Much of the text is difficult to read at the lower of the two available screen settings, and some is virtually unreadable in either setting, particularly the frequent sections that feature gray text (lightly outlined in white) on gray or textured backgrounds. In another comic this might be an insignificant problem, but the large blocks of narration that continue throughout Let Dai make the quality of the text paramount.

Sooyeon Won’s art is beautiful, and her characters burst, lifelike, from the page. Even the darkest, most violent moments are aesthetically pleasing. The visual storytelling is very clear and easy to follow, only hindered by the quality of the onscreen reproduction of the text.

Complete in fifteen volumes, Let Dai stands out in a market flooded with one-shots and short series that can never achieve the same impact as an epic tale well told. Regardless of any complaints that can be made, this story is riveting from start to finish, visually appealing, and intricately crafted to please its target audience.

Digital access provided by the publisher. Review originally published at PopCultureShock.

One Thousand and One Nights, Vols. 1-6

May 30, 2010 by MJ 2 Comments

One Thousand and One Nights, Vols. 1-6 | By Han SeungHee and Jeon JinSeok | Published by Yen Press | Rated OT (16+) – Loosely based on the original tales told by Scheherazade to her mad Persian king, in this version of One Thousand and One Nights (originally published in English by ICE Kunion, later picked up by Yen Press), “Scheherazade” is a bookish young man named Sehara who has joined Sultan Shahryar’s harem in his sister’s place, in order to save her from being raped and beheaded like a string of young women before her. When Sehara’s gender is revealed, Shahryar has him thrown into a prison cell, where Sehara meets the long-imprisoned Emir Jafar, former friend and confidante of Shahryar, who tells him the story of how the sultan went mad after discovering his beloved queen Fatima’s infidelity. Shahryar banished Fatima, and soon after began the daily execution of virgins from his harem. As Jafar finishes his tale, Shahryar bursts into the cell, along with his bodyguard, Maseru, promising to have them both killed for mocking him. It is then that Sehara asks to be allowed to tell Shahryar a story, after which Shahryar may kill him as he pleases. After listening to the story, Shahryar brutally beats Sehara but does not execute him, and instead declares him a bard of the court, thus beginning the thousand and one nights.

Before becoming the court bard, Sehara made his living translating books from China, India, and Greece, so he draws his stories from many sources, telling tales of Turandot and Calaf, Cleopatra and Caesar, and Socrates and Alcibiades, as well as fairy-tales and fables well-known in many cultures, such as “The Angel and the Woodsman.” Each tale is told beautifully, if with questionable historical accuracy (the story of Cleopatra, for instance, portrays her in an unusually gentle light, particularly as concerns her relationship with her younger brother and husband, Ptolemy XIII), but more importantly, Sehara’s stories, and indeed Sehara himself, begin to teach Shahryar how to love again, rescuing him slowly from the madness that has overtaken him. Shahryar may believe himself merciful for allowing Sehara to live, but it is Sehara’s mercy that will ultimately save Shahryar. Eventually, Shahryar begins to realize this, finally confessing to Sehara in volume five, “Jafar protects me from sly politicians, and Maseru protects me from enemies and assassins. You, Sehara, protect me from myself.” Their relationship is reminiscent of that between Ash Lynx and Eiji Okamura in Akimi Yashida’s classic shojo manga, Banana Fish (though more overtly sexualized), as both stories feature a pure, open heart coming to the rescue of a man with too much blood on his hands.

Though One Thousand and One Nights is clearly a love story between Sehara and Shahryar, it is first and foremost a good story, raising it above the ranks of trite romance. The many stories-within-a-story told by Sehara provide endless variations on the theme of love, with much attention given to the cultural differences between each story’s place and time. Cleopatra, after all, was required to marry her own brother by law, a practice still accepted in Sehara’s Persia, while Socrates’ relationship with his male lover, Alcibiades, though commonplace in ancient Greece, would be reviled by Persian custom of Sehara’s day. Sehara’s stories are told with a melancholy beauty, dark and sweet, and emerging from one of them is much like waking from a deep, hazy dream. It is the overarching story, however, that provides the heart that makes this series special. Its primary characters are richly drawn and idiosyncratic, and their relationships with each other are complex and delicately nuanced. There is very little black-and-white in these characters’ lives, despite what they may think, and it is a pleasure to watch their stories unfold, even when they are their worst selves.

In older versions of this tale, though Sultan Shahryar was ruler of the Sassanid Empire, which pre-dates the Islamic conquest of Persia, the stories made frequent reference to the teachings of Islam. In One Thousand and One Nights, writer Jeon JinSoek draws Sehara’s stories from all over the world and from many different eras, while preserving the Islamic focus in the main story. Though JinSeok is careful to portray a balanced view of Islam, particularly as it concerns women, he does not shy away from the inherent sexism and brutality of the time period, in which a mad ruler may indiscriminately murder his female subjects, who he rightfully (by law of the time) considers to be his property. Women are second-class citizens in this world, and this is not something even Sehara can change. He strives gamely to break through Shahryar’s damaged heart and re-establish in him respect and compassion for women, but, as Shahryar reminds him early on, if his own sister had been discovered to not be a virgin, it would have been Sehara’s duty by law as her brother to behead her. Not that there aren’t consequences for Shahryar’s misogynistic behavior. He faces threats from both inside and outside his empire during the course of the story, and volume six ends with his rule (and Sehara’s life) in peril, mainly thanks to his own weaknesses and poor decisions. Ultimately, however, the story has less to say about sexism than it does about the corruptive power of absolute rule.

Despite the unattractive covers of these volumes (unfortunately carried over from the original ICE Kunion editions), each page of One Thousand and One Nights is a pleasure to behold. Han SeungHee’s artwork is intensely beautiful and drenched in romance, from the period settings to the thick strokes of the character’s eyelids. All the characters, both male and female, are lovely to look at, though many lack beauty on the inside, which is what this story is about. SeungHee captures the story’s lush sensuality and fiery drama perfectly, as well as the unexpected moments of humor which crop up with increasing frequency as the series goes on.

One Thousand and One Nights is a beautiful, compelling series that is pleasurable both to read and to look at. With at least five more volumes coming, it has the potential to become a classic of its kind, as long as it continues with the same strength JinSeok and SeungHee have displayed so far.

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

One Thousand and One Nights, Vol. 7

May 30, 2010 by MJ Leave a Comment

One Thousand and One Nights | By Han SeungHee and Jeon JinSeok | Published by Yen Press | Rated OT (16+) – Volume six ended with storyteller Sehara facing English invaders alone as Sultan Shahryar was lured away from Baghdad by his brother’s calculated betrayal. This volume picks up with Shahryar who races back to Baghdad to save the city (and Sehara) even though he must reveal an important secret to an enemy to do so—one that will threaten his own life from here forward. Meanwhile, Sehara does what he can to influence the invading king by telling him a story from the future about another western power invading Muslim land to “liberate” its people from a tyrant.

Any existing pretense of a linear timeline is thrown away completely in this volume and though this is a bit jarring at first, the payoff is substantial. This is also the first overtly political volume in the series, and though the rhetoric is simplistic and far from new (“Christians and Muslims differ in language and culture,” Sehara says, leading into his story, “but we call the same God by a different name and go to war over it.”), Sehara’s true message is clear. It is not the innocent who profit when countries go to war, though it is they who bear the heaviest burden and suffer the greatest loss.

This volume’s modern story is moving and well told, just as all of Sehara’s tales have been, though with so much momentum having built up in the primary storyline it is hard not to feel impatient by the time the volume approaches its end. The end itself, however, is wonderfully heart-wrenching and perfectly crafted to make the wait for the next volume excruciating for us all.

With its gorgeous art, fantastic storytelling, and emotional (and now political) resonance, One Thousand and One Nights continues to be a manhwa series well worth recommending.

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

Totally Captivated, Vol. 6

May 30, 2010 by MJ 4 Comments

Totally Captivated | By Hajin Yoo | Published by NETCOMICS | Rated 16+ – Ewon Jung is a 23-year-old scholarship student in Seoul, whose curiosity over whether or not it is possible to have great sex without love (“It was possible.”) leads him to cheat on his boyfriend, Jiho. Devastated and yearning for revenge, Jiho persuades his new boyfriend, a small-time loan shark named Mookyul Eun, to force Ewon into service at his office where he is expected to run errands, clean, and balance the books, all without payment. Unfortunately for Jiho, Mookyul soon develops an interest in Ewon, and it isn’t long before Jiho ends up shunted aside once again. Mookyul is controlling and occasionally violent, and Ewon is far from a pushover, but they eventually reach a mutually beneficial arrangement and begin living together. Things do not continue peacefully for long, however, as Ewon becomes aware that he is falling harder for Mookyul than he intended and experiences his first real taste of jealousy. Though the story’s premise initially seems contrived, its real function is to provide a stylish, humorous background to what is essentially a very moving story about two deeply damaged men learning how to love.

In volume five, Ewon finally broke off his tumultuous relationship with Mookyul, unwilling to continue as his lover while Mookyul was still providing sexual favors to his company’s CEO—a man who had long ago rescued a young Mookyul and raised him as his own child. Unable to withstand the separation from Ewon, Mookyul confronted his father figure, breaking all ties with him and his company, and as volume six begins, he sets out to find Ewon and win him back. Ewon consents, but their reunion is short-lived, as Mookyul’s former business rival sets up a plot to ruin him now that he is no longer in the CEO’s favor. Mob madness ensues, Ewon is kidnapped, Mookyul is injured, Mookyul disappears, Ewon runs away, all leading up to the real drama of the volume, in which Ewon begs Mookyul to leave him so that he may be free of the constant terror of losing him. This is the real crux of the story, and ultimately provides the emotional payoff for the series.

It has been hinted throughout the series that Ewon’s absent parents were likely still alive, and this is finally confirmed in volume six, along with the sickening story of how he was abandoned as a child in the middle of the woods, essentially left to die. It is interesting to note that while both Ewon and Mookyul have serious abandonment issues, they have learned to deal with them in completely different ways. While Mookyul grew up to become controlling and possessive, determined to cage anything that might run from him, Ewon learned to avoid any real human connection, carefully protecting himself from the possibility of ever being abandoned again.

One of the things that has always been refreshing about Totally Captivated is that it is not a coming-out story. Ewon never agonizes over or apologizes for his sexuality (something he’s been aware of since the sixth grade), and he is completely comfortable with himself and unusually self-aware for his age. He knows what he likes and who he is sexually, and is completely up front about that with his partners (as they generally are with him). The dramatic benefit of this is that instead of having to focus on the characters’ feelings about being gay, the story is free to explore much further. Though the series does not shy away from the characters’ sexuality, its real focus is on emotional intimacy, and it is this that drives the story forward, especially in the final volume.

This series also avoids the thinly-veiled homophobia that is paradoxically present in so much of the boys’ love genre. “I don’t want some stinking homophobe to buy me a drink,” Ewon says to a co-worker early on in the series, and this attitude is never compromised at any point. The story never avoids specifics about the characters’ sexuality, neither does it portray its primary relationship as “forbidden love” nor insinuate that it is fundamentally inferior to heterosexual love—themes that are unfortunately common in many popular boy’s love stories.

Thankfully, this volume is free of the one discomfiting boys’ love cliché that is too often present earlier on, namely Mookyul’s habit of bullying Ewon for sex that is more frequent or rough than he is comfortable with (made tolerable only by the fact that Ewon proves many times over that he is capable of extracting himself from any situation he truly does not want to be a part of). After some shaky moments in the middle of the series that came uncomfortably close to romanticizing Mookyul’s controlling (even sadistic) tendencies, volume five brought Ewon back into control (despite the fact that he still calls his lover “boss”), with the two men finally reaching equal ground in volume six. Considering the extensive damage both Ewon and Mookyul bring to the table, it’s not surprising that they would fall into unhealthy patterns with each other as their relationship develops, but rooting for them became difficult during those middle volumes while the relationship was clearly abusive. With this in mind, volume six is a balm for the reader, as both characters shed their most destructive habits and are finally able to provide the emotional security each other requires.

The character designs in this series have never been anything special, but with characterizations so strong, they almost don’t have to be. What is lacking in design is made up for in substance, and though more distinctive art would certainly enhance the story’s effect, the series is not gravely damaged without it. The visual storytelling is clear and easy to follow and if the designs are merely serviceable, they at least do not get in the way. All the characters are visually expressive when they need to be, and many are downright poignant, particularly Ewon’s ex, Jiho, and his long-time friend, Dohoon Moon, who puts aside his own feelings to protect Ewon when he most needs it.

In its early volumes, Totally Captivated was smart, sexy, and fabulously dramatic. Now at the end of its final volume, it has also grown into an unexpectedly satisfying love story, rivaling the best of its genre.

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

Roureville, Vols. 1-3

May 28, 2010 by MJ Leave a Comment

Roureville, Vols. 1-3 | By E. Hae | Published by NETCOMICS – Evan Pryce is a an acclaimed reporter for the New York Times, whose most recent story has earned him a spot on a terrorist hit list. When coworkers at the Times make it clear they want him out of the vicinity until things cool down, he is shipped off to the middle of nowhere to investigate a tabloid-esque ghost story tip, very much against his will. Having spent ten days searching vainly for an off-the-map town called Roureville, Evan is about to throw in the towel when luck appears suddenly in the form of a flustered priest who unintentionally leads him straight into the town. Though the ghost story appears to be unfounded, Roureville is fishy from the start and after Evan manages to score a place to stay with a quiet young local named Jayce, the townspeople make it very clear that they wish for him to leave, enough even to resort to attempted murder. As the series continues, Evan becomes closer both to his reticent host and to the town’s carefully protected secret, ultimately discovering that he shares more in common with them than he ever would have suspected.

…

U Don’t Know Me

May 28, 2010 by MJ 1 Comment

U Don’t Know Me | By Rakun | Published by NETCOMICS – “I realized that the reason the two of us couldn’t stand forever in the same place wasn’t just because I couldn’t keep up with his height–a height, by the way, which began outgrowing my own little by little.” – Prologue, U Don’t Know Me

Seyun and Yoojin have been close since childhood, raised like brothers by their parents who were best friends–so much so that when Seyun’s father made the decision to take on the debt left by his own father, Yoojin’s parents offered to take Seyun in as their own child to ease his burden. Though Seyun’s father refused the offer and moved his family to a cheaper neighborhood to tough it out, Seyun and Yoojin remained friends, despite the distance and their ever-shifting lives. …