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First Second

The Best and Worst Manga of 2022

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When I sat down to compose my Best of 2022 list, I was certain I’d compiled a similar one as recently as 2017, only to discover that I hadn’t done so in almost seven years. In looking over some of my earlier efforts, I hardly recognize myself: who was this person with the energy to review 40 or 50 books in a year? Or who thought that Yowamushi Pedal was the best new series of 2015? It felt a little daunting to revisit those lists, honestly, as I’ve often let my blog lie fallow for months at a stretch as I adjusted to a more demanding teaching schedule or a longer commute; I’ve been vowing to “bring back” The Manga Critic for years. Reading other bloggers’ year-end lists, however, inspired me to get back in the saddle and take stock of the manga I loved—and didn’t—in 2022.

Best New Manga: Shuna’s Journey
By Hayao Miyazaki • Translated by Alex Dudok de Wit • First Second
In this deceptively simple work, Hayao Miyazaki creates a richly detailed world filled with beautiful, strange imagery that invites the reader to contemplate where and when the story takes place without definitively answering those questions. Miyazaki’s hero is just as mysterious as the landscapes he crosses; Shuna’s odyssey is not a journey of self-discovery but a practical quest that, despite its myriad hardships, leaves him fundamentally unchanged. Is a he a folkloric hero or a witness to environmental catastrophe? Miyazaki leaves that question unanswered as well, creating a work that’s more ambiguous and less didactic than Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind or Princess Mononoke, but similar in its emphasis on the complex relationship between humans and the natural world.

Best Archival Project: Talk to My Back
By Yamada Murasaki • Translated by Ryan Holmberg • Drawn & Quarterly
“For six years now, I’ve never walked at a pace that was mine,” observes Chiharu, the protagonist of Yamada Murasaki’s sharply observed Talk to My Back. First published in the 1980s, Murasaki’s thirty-six vignettes chronicle the small pleasures and intense disappointments of a middle-class Japanese housewife. Through spare linework and judicious use of blank space, Murasaki conveys Chiharu’s quest to define herself outside the role of mother and wife, documenting Chiharu’s anger, frustration, and alienation in a restrained fashion that suggests how stifled and powerless Chiharu often feels. In a thorough, thoughtful companion essay, translator Ryan Holmberg explores Murasaki’s trailblazing role as an alt-manga creator; Murasaki was one of the first women artists to be featured in the pages of COM and Garo magazines, opening the door for creators such as Akino Kondo and Junko Mizuno. Here’s hoping that Drawn & Quarterly decides to publish more of Murasaki’s work in English.

Best New Sci-Fi Manga: Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou
By Hitoshi Ashinano • Translated by Daniel Komen • Adapted by Dawn Davis • Seven Seas
I’m not sure if I would have been as receptive to Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou five or ten years ago, as its low-key depiction of life in the aftermath of an environmental catastrophe might have struck me as hopelessly twee. With the worst of the pandemic behind us, however, I found the series’ emphasis on small, everyday moments more resonant; Hitoshi Ashinano convincingly evokes the rhythm of everyday life in a world of scarcity, minus the Hobbesian emphasis on violent competition. Alpha, the main character, is an android who divides her time between running a small cafe and roaming the coastline on her scooter, photographing the empty roads and submerged towns as well as the small, vibrant communities where people still find time to hold rowdy association meetings and stage elaborate firework displays. Her efforts to document humanity’s final chapter offer a wistful—and hopeful—meditation on what it means to persevere in the face of uncertainty and change.

Best New Romance: Kowloon Generic Romance
By Jun Mayuzuki • Translated by Amanda Haley • Yen Press
The aesthetic of Kowloon Generic Romance is pure 80s manga—think City Hunter or RG Veda—but the story and characters suggest the work of filmmaker Wong Kar-Wai, as Kowloon focuses on an intense but unconsummated flirtation between Reiko, a real estate agent, and Kudou, her brash, horny colleague. Like Kar-Wai, manga-ka Jun Mayuzuki is as enamored of settings as she is of characters, leading the reader on a languid tour of Kowloon’s shopping districts, cafes, back alleys, and apartment blocks, conveying how densely settled this city-within-a-city truly is. Though there are some minor elements of science fiction in play, the main attraction is the artwork and pacing; Mayuzuki devotes an entire chapter to depicting, in rapturous detail, Reiko’s evening ritual of enjoying a cigarette on her flat’s meager balcony, allowing the reader to experience the moment as Reiko does: a brief, wordless respite from the hustle and bustle of Kowloon.

Best New Comedy: Phantom of the Idol
By Hijiki Isoflavone • Translated by Max Greenway • Kodansha
In this delightfully bonkers series, a grumpy male pop star swaps bodies with the ghost of a former teen idol whose discipline and talent help transform Yuya into a charismatic, telegenic performer. The twist? Yuya’s been possessed by Asahi Mogami, a perky girl whose budding career was cut short by a car accident. The physical slapstick takes the humor in some unexpected directions as Asahi navigates the complexities of inhabiting the lazy Yuya’s body, while the dialogue offers plenty of sly pokes at the music industry, as well as some not-so-subtle reminders that pop stardom can be as grueling as it is exhilarating.

Best Manga I Thought I’d Hate: The Men Who Created Gundam
By Hideki Ohwada, Hajime Yatate, and Yoshiyuki Tomino • Translated by Jason Moses • Denpa
Of all the ways you could tell the story of Japan’s most famous robot franchise, it seems only right that Gundam creators Hideki Ohwada and Yoshiyuki Tomino opted for an over-the-top manga that dramatically recreates key moments in the series’ early history. The prevailing tone is reminiscent of a VH-1 Behind the Music special, complete with sudden reversals and last-minute triumphs; every line of dialogue is delivered with the kind of urgency usually reserved for a nuclear crisis, even when the conversation is focused on the more mundane aspects of creating a hit television show. Interspersed among the chapters are brief but useful essays connecting the storylines to real events, offering readers a more nuanced explanation of how Gundam helped the create the template for modern pop-cultural fandoms around the globe.

Worst Manga I Thought I’d Love: Crazy Food Truck
By Rokurou Ogaki • Translated by Amanda Haley • VIZ Media
On paper, Crazy Food Truck sounded like a blast, a cross between Mad Max: Fury Road and The Great Food Truck Race. In practice, however, Crazy Food Truck was surprisingly dull, serving up fight sequences as unimaginative as the food its hero serves his few paying customers. The central joke might be funnier if Gordon’s menu was so good that people would risk life and limb for his gourmet sandwiches, but when a BLT with mustard is his signature dish, it seems more like a failure of imagination than a real attempt at humor, especially when creator Rokurou Ogaki frequently reminds us that Gordon has mounted a cannon on top of his truck to ward off bad guys. Gordon’s sidekick Anisa is a one-note character, inserted into the narrative primarily for fan service that’s so indifferently executed it’s hard to muster any outrage. I have no doubt this series rocked some reader’s world, but I found it flavorless. (Reviewed at The Manga Critic on 6/7/22)

Worst Manga I Read in 2022: Rooster Fighter
By Sou Sakuratani • Translated by Jonah Mayahara-Miller • VIZ Media
Rooster Fighter is a disappointment: the premise is too slight to sustain a long series, the script is strenuously unfunny, and the storylines are numbingly predictable. In every chapter, the nameless hero wanders into a new town, antagonizes and befriends the locals in equal measure, then kills a grotesque demon that’s been terrorizing the community. About the only good joke in whole series is how the rooster kills demons; anyone who’s lived on or near a farm will enjoy a rueful laugh or two at the hero’s superpower. Otherwise, this series is a total Cock-a-Doodle-Don’t. (Reviewed at Manga Bookshelf on 8/16/22)

Comic Conversion: Nursery Rhyme Comics

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Nursery Rhyme Comics | Edited By Chris Duffy | Published by First Second

Nursery Rhyme ComicsMost people gain some familiarity with nursery rhymes as children, reciting “Humpty Dumpty” in school or picking out favorites from a big collection. This introduction usually comes through a Mother Goose story book, but that fictional old lady (or goose in a bonnet, depending on what book you have) isn’t with whom these rhymes originated.

While a lot of rhymes can be traced back to a certain time and place, many came to be the same way as folklore and fairy tales—passed down over the centuries with no precise origin or even meaning. Because of that, not only has some of the wording of the rhymes changed over time, but any version can be treated with varying interpretations and imagery. Despite their age, these sing-songy, fun, sometimes weird rhymes continue to resonate with children, so it makes perfect sense for publisher First Second to reinterpret the stories through one of the more popular mediums today—comic books—in their collection Nursery Rhyme Comics.

Altogether there are 50 rhymes presented in this book, each one drawn by a different artist. In my experience, such a wide variety of creators almost inevitably leads to just as much variety in quality. Somehow, this is not the case. Instead, First Second has gathered 50 amazingly talented artists who, despite their differences in design and technique, make each page a treat.

Thanks to the brevity of the rhymes, the comics take up no more than three pages each, so very little time is spent with any single artist. These sudden shifts do create a little bit of abruptness as you move from short rhyme to short rhyme. Fortunately, editor Chris Duffy managed to arrange the comics in a sort of arc, beginning with “The Donkey” playing a saxophone “to wake the world this sleepy morn,” moving into more active comics, and then slowing down towards the conclusion of “Wee Willie Winkie” as the story’s children fall asleep with their own copy of Nursery Rhyme Comics.

The DonkeyWith so many great artists on board, it would have been a shame to have them all adhere to a certain theme or mood, and it seems that First Second wisely allowed their artists to interpret the rhymes in any way they wanted. Style and mood range from things like the calm watercolors of Patrick McDonnell’s “The Donkey” to Reina Telgemeier’s bright cartoons. But the artists also give us their own takes on the rhymes themselves. Telgemeier’s “Georgie Porgie,” for instance, is a kid at his birthday party getting pie all over the girls he kisses. And in Andrew Arnold’s version of “Hot Cross Buns,” a pigeon steals cakes from a pair of bratty kids.

Artists interpreting some of the more nonsensical rhymes, like the weird non sequitor at the end of “I Had a Little Nut Tree,” have fun with stories that just don’t make much sense anymore. Then there’s “Hush Little Baby”—a song with pretty general action—transformed by its artist into an active conversation between a father and his daughter, making excellent use of word bubbles and creative panels.

Some of the artists did choose to take more traditional or literal views of the rhymes, like in Richard Sala’s version of “Three Blind Mice”, and while these are still well done, they aren’t quite as memorable as some of the other selections. But even some of the more literal takes do an excellent job evoking emotion, like the blow-by-blow account of the very short rhyme “The North Wind Doth Blow,” in which we see a robin tumble through the air before finally coming to a rest, or the pure romance of Edward Lear and Craig Thompson’s “The Owl and the Pussy-cat.”

One thing Nursery Rhyme Comics proves by the end is how effectively nursery rhymes can converted into comics. These sing-songy stories have no narration that the artist must carve out, and no descriptive prose that they must decide whether to write or visualize. Instead, these are stories so simple that the artists may come at them with all their creative talent.

This collection serves as a pretty great introduction to nursery rhymes for kids, covering all the bases, from weird and funny to calm and peaceful rhymes. This book can also be used as a sly way to introduce comics into the life of a kid you know—offering up so many styles and tones that any kid is sure to find a graphic novel niche to enjoy. Dialogue and narration are spaced out nicely, preventing the pages from becoming overly cluttered with words, which makes this an easy book to read out loud with a child, but also fun for an older kid (or an adult) to read by him/herself.

Thanks to the artists First Second gathered together, this was a thoroughly enjoyable book. And whether or not you’re already acquainted with the rhymes included, it’s so much fun to see how the artists chose to adapt them.

The Color Trilogy

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At Manga Bookshelf’s Off the Shelf, Michelle Smith and I discuss Kim Dong Hwa’s Color trilogy (The Color of Earth, The Color of Water, and he Color of Heaven) published in English by First Second. Here’s an excerpt from the discussion:

MELINDA: Let’s get right to the meat of things. There’s been a lot of discussion among critics about whether or not this series is inherently sexist. Michelle, I’d like to start with bringing up a statement you made in your recent review of The Color of Heaven:

“I know that the limited scope of life for a woman in this time and place is historically accurate, and that for a mother to say, “There is nothing better in life than getting married” reflects a period where marriage provided the ultimate in protection for a woman … To be honest, I think a large part of my ire is due to the fact that The Color Trilogy is written by a man. If a woman wrote these things, I’d still be annoyed, but coming from a male author I can’t help but read such statements as downright condescending. Try as I might to view these attitudes through a historical lens, I’m simply unable to get over my knee-jerk reaction.”

First of all, I wouldn’t characterize your reaction as knee-jerk at all. I think what you’re reacting to (and I mentioned this in comments, but I’ll reiterate it here) is not the story’s historical context, but the author’s own sexism which he reveals in the way he portrays the realities of the period. My immediate thought upon finishing the series was that I found it inexpressibly sad. Ehwa’s mother spends almost the entire series teaching her daughter about what a woman’s life is in their world and helping her learn how to endure a lifetime of waiting and heartache that can only be relieved by the companionship of a beloved man. And I suspect there is quite a bit of historical accuracy in this sense of utter helplessness and lack of worth placed on a single woman in that period.

But despite the bleakness of their circumstances, Kim portrays it all with a loving nostalgia. Even when expressing the sadness and longing felt by Ehwa and her mother as they wait for their men, he portrays it all as beautiful and even romantic. This isn’t matter of being true to the period. These are Kim’s own values being revealed here, and that’s what we’re reacting to. The same story could be told without that veil of fond nostalgia and it would read very, very differently. If this series had actually been written during that time period, that would be different matter as well, but Kim is a contemporary writer, and as such, he’s responsible to contemporary readers for the story he’s chosen to tell and how he tells it.

Read the full discussion here.