MMF

CLAMP MMF: Call for Participation

July 4, 2012 by MJ 8 Comments

Welcome to July 2012, and the newest installment of the Manga Moveable Feast, the manga blogging community’s ongoing conversation about the medium we all love. Each month, a single series, creator, or topic is chosen for a week-long discussion across the entire community.

This month’s feast will run from Monday, July 23rd through Sunday, the 29th, featuring the works of CLAMP, and hosted here at Manga Bookshelf.

Few manga artists have acquired a level of notoriety here in the west approaching that of CLAMP, an all-female group of writers and artists who began their careers as an eleven-member doujinshi circle in the mid-1980s. Since then, CLAMP has solidified into a group of four, including leader (and primary writer) Nanase Ohkawa and artists Tsubaki Nekoi, Satsuki Igarashi, and Mokona. Their series span multiple genres and demographic categorizations, but their work tends to be immediately identifiable due to their elaborate character designs, recurring themes, and reuse of characters across fictional universes.

CLAMP’s works published in English include: RG Veda, Tokyo Babylon, Clamp School Detectives, Duklyon: Clamp School Defenders, Man of Many Faces, Shirahime-Syo: Snow Goddess Tales, Legend of Chun Hyang, X (sometimes X/1999), Magic Knight Rayearth, Miyuki-chan in Wonderland, The One I Love, Cardcaptor Sakura, Wish, Clover, Angelic Layer, Suki: A Like Story, Legal Drug, Chobits, xxxHolic, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, Kobato, and Gate 7.

With so many series released into the English-speaking manga market, love ’em or hate ’em, nearly everyone has an opinion on CLAMP, and I want to hear them ALL!

Over the course of the week beginning July 23rd, I’ll be writing about all my favorite CLAMP series—even those I sometimes hate—and I hope you’ll do the same! No blog? No problem! Send me your submissions by email anytime between the 23rd and 29th, and I’ll post them on your behalf. There is no end to the creativity encouraged by the MMF. Please explore the works of CLAMP in any way you choose, including anything from straight-up reviews, roundtables, or essays to a video of your CLAMP-inspired interpretive dance. All submissions and all participants are welcome!

I will post an introduction to the CLAMP MMF on Monday, July 23rd, including a link to the Feast’s archive page and instructions for notifying me of your submissions. In the meantime, feel free to send links to older pieces to mj@mangabookshelf.com for inclusion in this month’s archive.

Any questions? Please let me know, or join the MMF Google Group.

Off the Shelf: Real

June 27, 2012 by MJ and Michelle Smith 1 Comment

MICHELLE: Good evening and welcome to a special installment of Off the Shelf. You might be aware that I am co-hosting (with Anna from Manga Report, who’s also a contributor to the Bringing the Drama column here at Manga Bookshelf) the Takehiko Inoue Manga Moveable Feast this week! And so, I have enlisted MJ’s participation so that we might devote this week’s column to Inoue’s seinen series, Real.

Inoue is most famous for Slam Dunk, a thoroughly shounen series about a delinquent who finds his way via basketball, and there are definitely some elements of that in Real. What’s different, however, is that two of the main protagonists are wheelchair-bound and the one able-bodied fellow draws his inspiration from seeing how hard disabled athletes work to achieve their goals.

MJ: I’m thrilled to be talking about this series, Michelle. It was my first exposure to Inoue, and my first experience with a manga series about sports that wasn’t created to fit the standard shounen formula.

Should we talk about the main characters a bit?

MICHELLE: Sure! Actually, I think Anna summed up their personalities very well in her review, so I am just going to quote her, if that’s okay!

Real centers on three main protagonists. Tomomi Nomiya is a wanna-be tough guy who is a bit of an outcast at school even though he is on the basketball team. He was involved in a motorcycle accident that paralyzed his passenger, a girl named Natsumi whom he had just picked up randomly. Hisanobu Takahashi is the arrogant new basketball captain who is about to experience something that will change his life forever. Kiyoharu Togawa is an elite athlete who had most of one leg taken off due to a childhood brush with cancer. His driven personality isn’t a good match with the hobbyists on his wheelchair basketball team.

That’s how we find them at the beginning of the series, and as the story progresses, they inspire each other (and others) in seemingly infinite ways while each struggling to find and pursue their own path. Ultimately, for each of them, basketball turns out to be that path, but this is definitely far from being your typical sports manga.

MJ: I think “far from being your typical sports manga” is really key here. Even, as you say, when these characters serve as inspiration, there’s no heroic glow carrying the story forward. Their pain and their disappointments are real, and not easily banished by fine speeches or awe-inspiring action scenes. Real is not afraid to get into the real darkness its protagonists fall into at various points in the story, nor does it gloss over their wrongs. Real is unforgiving, much like life.

MICHELLE: The plight of Hisanobu Takahashi, the aforementioned arrogant guy, best illustrates what you’re talking about, I think. Here’s a guy, obsessed with comparing himself to others, who becomes paralyzed as a result of being hit by a truck while fleeing on a stolen bicycle. Inoue relentlessly takes us through his ups and downs, hopes that bubble up and are quickly dashed, and doesn’t try to artificially improve Hisanobu’s attitude overnight. There are encounters that buoy him for a while, a rivalry with Nomiya that motivates him, but he’s in a fragile state and can still be sent spiraling down by the sight of a seeming weakling who is better at physical rehab than he is.

It’s as if Inoue is saying, “You can borrow some strength from others, but in the end, it’s all up to you to follow through.”

MJ: Takahashi’s is perhaps the most interesting journey to me, I think because Inoue doesn’t let him off the hook for anything, so when he does achieve small successes, they really feel earned. Though I also like the fact that Nomiya is traveling what could be considered an impossible path (to become a professional player). I admit I’m really anxious to see where that goes in the end.

MICHELLE: Me, too. I desperately hope he is able to make the pro team, and that’s what I’ve been groomed to expect from my years of loving sports manga, but I’m faced with the very real possibility that Inoue will depict him not making it and being shattered by the experience. I really love Nomiya very much, and one of my favorite scenes is where he’s just lost his job after trying so hard at it, and he really needs to see Togawa’s wheelchair basketball team, The Tigers, achieve their dream after putting in so much effort. They don’t, however, and I wonder what sort of blow it’ll be to him if he also fails. I feel as though I’m watching a friend put their everything into something that might not pan out, so I root for them but also I worry.

MJ: Of course, that’s part of what makes this series work so well. Both volumes nine and ten acquired some vaguely shounen tendencies, with a lot of (from my review of volume 10) “grand declarations, gritty determination, and talk of achieving one’s dreams,” but even then, there’s no sense that this will necessarily happen.

MICHELLE: But, you know, I still can’t loving those moments. If there is any one drawback to Real, it’s that I kept expecting them to, like, all join the same team and get awesome together and beat their rivals. But it takes until volume ten for Hisanobu to remember his one encounter with Togawa, the basketball badass in a wheelchair, and realize “I could do that.”

Not that I’m complaining, of course, because so much of his journey is learning how to really work for something again, which he hasn’t done since he was a kid, essentially on account of his father abandoning the family.

Y’know… we haven’t seen any of Nomiya’s childhood yet, have we? We’ve seen some of Togawa’s and quite a lot of Hisanobu’s, but none of Nomiya’s. We just hear about his mother bringing back sweets from her various trips.

MJ: You know, that’s a good point. It’s been a while since I looked at early volumes, but I don’t recall that we have. Perhaps that’s yet to come.

Actually, I realize now that with volumes 9 and 10 freshest in my mind, I’ve let Togawa go a little bit. With Takahashi’s and Nomiya’s stories really hitting their stride, Togawa’s hasn’t been quite as much front-and-center as of late.

MICHELLE: No, it hasn’t. But it was certainly getting lovely there for a bit, with the introduction of Ryo, a sullen disabled teen, who is inspired by Togawa just as a young Togawa was by Tora, the original founder of the Tigers. And the beauty of it all is that Togawa has no idea that he’s become such a figure for this kid. We’ve heard a lot about the history of the Tigers, how it went from Tora’s era, to Yama’s (a friend of Togawa whose physical condition is deteriorating rapidly), to Togawa’s. I’m sure it’ll be Ryo’s era after that. I delight in seeing this familiar character through fresh eyes, while we’ve become entirely accustomed to his various faults. Inoue sure is adept at introducing new/secondary characters who immediately become integral to the story.

MJ: That’s true! I’m currently quite enamored with Hara-sensei, Takahashi’s badass… uh, physical therapist? I guess that’s what she probably she, but without any of the touchy-feely Florence Nighiengale-y images that might normally spring forth.

MICHELLE: I also like his two friends in rehab, who are challenging his notions of ranks and worth. There’s Shiratori, the famous wrestler, who is actually behind where Takahashi is in his recovery, and then there’s Hanamaki, the scrawny otaku, who is farther along than both of them, but who yet is a major Shiratori fanboy. Supporting each of the three protagonists are people who can help them change and find their way, including a couple of intriguing female characters that I wish we got to learn more about.

MJ: It’s true, the series’ female characters seem to come and go rather quickly. I’m particularly interested in Azumi, Togawa’s childhood friend who also manages the Tigers. There’s a favorite scene of mine in volume 10, where she must indignantly remind Togawa that she has goals and dreams as well.

MICHELLE: The pair of them actually remind me a little of the main character and his sidekick in Drops of God, but Azumi seems to be more complicated than her counterpart, which I appreciate.

One thing we haven’t yet touched upon is Inoue’s art in Real, which is pretty damned awesome. He excels at both action and expression, but some of my favorite sequences are more fanciful, like when Hisanobu and Nomiya engage in a mutual daydream about what would’ve happened had they been present for their high school team’s final game.

MJ: I become impressed all over again by how expressive Inoue’s artwork is with every new volume. The series has a gritty, realistic look to it, but there’s such life on the page! In volume ten, page 148, there’s a tear running down Shiratori’s otherwise mostly covered face, and it’s the most oddly expressive, moving, not even remotely beautiful tear I’ve ever seen. It has none of that graceful mono no aware sensibility that tear-shedding moments so often have. In fact, it could just as easily be a trickle of sweat. But to see it on this huge man’s covered face is just… kind of stunning.

MICHELLE: It’s art that really serves the characters instead of merely being technically proficient. The first few pages of the first volume stunned me, because in that opening sequence you learn practically all you need to know about Togawa. In fact, I plan to discuss them in greater depth in a Let’s Get Visual column this weekend.

Another great thing about Real is that it feels far from over! We’ve talked about Nomiya’s impossible-seeming goal, but Togawa also wants to make it to the Paralympics, so perhaps the series, in sports manga fashion, will end there? I admit that would be very satisfying, but I don’t know that we should expect it.

MJ: It’s really impossible to guess! Like you, I’d love to see all three characters achieve their dreams (and in spectacular, shounen-style fashion) but I’m not making any bets!

MICHELLE: Well, volume eleven is due in November, so perhaps there’ll be a little closer to their goals at that point!

MJ: I can’t wait!

Reviews of Real at Manga Bookshelf: Real, Vol. 10 (MJ), Real, Vol. 9 (MJ), Real, Vols. 1-8 (MJ), Real, Vols. 1-4 (Kate), Real, Vol. 10 (Kate)

Off the Shelf: Princess Knight

February 23, 2012 by MJ and Michelle Smith 15 Comments

MICHELLE: As we occasionally do when the Manga Moveable Feast rolls around, MJand I have opted to dedicate this week’s Off the Shelf column to the topic at hand, which this month is the works of Osamu Tezuka. Specifically for our case, we’re going to be talking about Princess Knight, Tezuka’s shoujo manga about Sapphire, a princess who accidentally receives both a boy’s heart and a girl’s heart at the time of her birth, and who, when we pick up her story as an adolescent, has somewhat of an identity crisis while undergoing many wacky hardships/hijinks.

This is my first time reading the series. Whenever Ed Chavez from Vertical would solicit suggestions for Tezuka titles to license, I would always request Princess Knight. I wanted the series so much I even bought a few of the bilingual Kodansha editions. However, when I finally had both parts of the series in hand, I was content for a while to merely gaze upon them, content. And now that I have finally gotten around to reading it, I must say… I’m a little disappointed.

MJ: Well, as you may recall, I certainly had my issues with volume one, and these didn’t disappear when I read volume two. In some ways, I’d even say they became more pronounced. On the other hand, there were things I liked about it, so though I could characterize my experience as disappointing as well, I’m still glad I read it.

Should we get the least pleasant subjects out of the way straight off?

MICHELLE: Might as well. I guess my big problem with it is that it’s supposed to be so groundbreaking in terms of gender identities, but it actually does very little in this regard. When Sapphire has only a boy heart, she’s swaggering and brave. When she has only her girl heart, she’s weak and fragile. True, some of the growl-inducing comments do come from the villains or from those attempting to fool villains by approximating girlish behavior (“I suddenly want to take up cross-stitching and play the piano.”) but I do have to wonder how much of it Tezuka really believes, since he creates a swordswoman character, only to bedeck her armor with hearts and have her proudly admit that she’s entered a tournament to find a husband.

MJ: Yes, this was definitely the biggest hurdle for me as well. While I might have found it interesting to watch a character struggle with her gender identity in a society where clearly what you describe is set up as the standard for femininity vs. masculinity, that’s not really what Tezuka does here at all. Even when he has his chances to challenge these roles, he passes them up. For instance, the big female revolt that happens during the second volume seems to hinge mainly on the threat of the country’s men being left without anyone to clean their homes or look after their children. Even after it’s over, the only comment made by one of the defeated men is relief that his wife will come home and take care of the laundry that’s piled up.

I completely understand that both Tezuka and Princess Knight are a product of their time, but I’m genuinely confused as to why this seems to be held up as a great example of shoujo manga challenging gender roles.

MICHELLE: It seems very likely that Tezuka never intended it to be so, since so much of it takes a Loony Tunes approach to storytelling. Why, indeed, take a female revolt seriously? Instead, let’s play it for comedy by making the men out to be henpecked morons! That’s not to say there aren’t some darker aspects that I did like and wish could’ve been expounded upon. For example, while I don’t care about or believe in the “true love” that suddenly springs up between Sapphire and Prince Franz Charming, the characters set up as romantic rivals are actually interesting and meet tragic fates. It makes me wonder what kind of story Tezuka could’ve fashioned with Hecate and Captain Blood (aka Heinrich) as the leads!

MJ: Yes! Though I actually quite liked Sapphire, at least until she became completely consumed by her weirdly passive pursuit of Prince Franz, my favorite characters were Captain Blood and Hecate. I would have happily read entire books about them. I rather wished that Sapphire would ditch Franz and fall for Blood, but I suppose it was never meant to be.

MICHELLE: And, really, Hecate is probably the best example of a character who defies gender roles, since she’s perfectly happy defining herself for herself and has no wish to consume Sapphire’s girl heart (which her witch mother, Madame Hell, keeps trying to steal on her behalf) and take up some passive, “feminine” identity. She’s independent, level-headed, and one of the few truly good characters in the story. Plus, she can turn herself into a goat!

MJ: Speaking of all the heart-exchanging business, I’d say that probably the only time I actually appreciated it, was when Plastic ingests Sapphire’s boy’s heart, and suddenly becomes a decent man, instead of a selfish, sniveling boob.

MICHELLE: Oh yes, I quite agree! And he promptly begins championing women’s rights! This makes him the second character in the series (after Hecate) to go his own way and oppose the evil schemes of a parent. I wonder if this is Tezuka’s way of saying that the younger generation is going to get things right regarding equality whereas their parents are hopeless.

MJ: That may be a generous assumption, but I’ll give it to him if you will. You know, I think what’s most disappointing to me about Princess Knight is that I feel like I really could have liked it. Tezuka’s artwork is so much fun here, and so full of life. And I’m really fine with the “Looney Tunes approach,” as you so brilliantly put it. I think this manga could have been a lot of fun. But the gender issues are so profound, they kinda take over the whole thing for me.

MICHELLE: I’m not sure I could’ve liked it even without the gender issues giving me fits. The plotting is just so random sometimes. Early on, there’s a scene where Sapphire is letting herself be collected by Duke Duralumin’s men as a potential consort for his then-still-feeble-minded son, Plastic. And Franz rides in from, like, the next kingdom over to rescue her, and then rides back home again a few panels later. Or then there’s my favorite spot of wtf, the scene where Blood quickly escapes slavery by coercing a nearby beetle into chewing through some ropes. Everything’s so fast, furious, and madcap that poignant things aren’t given time to sink in.

MJ: Hee hee, yeah, it’s like that. Is it wrong that I find that fun? Or maybe I find it fun, because the poignant stuff doesn’t sit right. I can enjoy something that’s silly and madcap for that alone, and Princess Knight works better as that for me. Overall, I’d say I liked the silly, unbelievable parts the most. Also, I love every scene that Blood is in. Heh.

MICHELLE: It’s not wrong for anyone to like what they like! :) I’m just hard to please, comedy-wise, so many of the gags just left me blinking impassively at the page. I feel bad for being so down on Princess Knight, because now that it’s over I find myself growing fond of the idea of it again. And though it may not have lived up to its reputation for me, I nonetheless wonder if it wasn’t the origin of certain shoujo tropes, like, say, all of the guys instantly falling in love with the passive heroine, or the contingent of jealous fangirls.

MJ: As disappointed as I might have been with it, I really am grateful to have had the opportunity to read it. It may not be my favorite of Tezuka’s works (or really even close), but I’m quite enamored of his artwork, as always, and even now as I’m just flipping through, I’m struck by the beauty and flow of what’s on the page.

MICHELLE: Oh, I am definitely exceedingly grateful to the folks at Vertical for licensing the work and producing such a beautiful edition. I’m also pleased to note that I didn’t spot a single typo in their text, and found that the translation actually included some rather sophisticated words without any hint of awkwardness.

MJ: So thanks, Vertical, for giving us the chance to experience Princess Knight!

For more of this week’s MMF bounty, please visit the Osamu Tezuka MMF Archive, hosted by Kate Dacey at The Manga Critic!

More full-series discussions with MJ & Michelle:

Full-series multi-guest roundtables: Hikaru no Go | Banana Fish | Gerard & Jacques | Flower of Life

Off the Shelf: No Longer Human

January 27, 2012 by MJ and Michelle Smith 10 Comments

MICHELLE: This month’s Manga Moveable Feast, currently in progress, is devoted to the works of Usamaru Furuya, prompting MJand me to devote this week’s column to the most recent of his series to see publication in English, No Longer Human.

Based on a book by Osamu Dazai that’s described as “a decadent novelist’s autobiographical masterpiece,” No Longer Human depicts the story of Yozo Oba, a young man with no comprehension of what it feels like or how to be an ordinary person. We first meet him as a high school student, where he has learned that being the class clown is the one thing that enables him to connect to his classmates.

Soon he falls in with a group of misfits plotting political rebellion, but he’s more comforted by being among outsiders than he is honestly devoted to their cause. There, he meets the first of several women who will be drawn to him and agree to feed and care for him. This becomes his pattern in life. By the middle of the second volume, he’s twenty and living with a much older woman while drawing a gag manga and helping out at the bar she owns. He realizes that he’s “a genius parasite on women,” but sees that as his only option left to survive.

MJ: As in most “decadent masterpieces,” Oba’s excesses drive him deeper and deeper into tragedy, as he drinks and sleeps his way from one safe haven to another, usually leaving the women who care for him in significantly worse condition than he found them (and in one case, even dead). The narrative lets us know that things are only going to continue to get worse, yet it’s impossible to look away.

Though there have since been at least two other graphic novel adaptations of Dazai’s original, where Furuya goes very much right, in my opinion, is in his decision to move the pre-WWII story into the present, which I think is at least partially responsible for his ability to present such a self-indulgent tragedy in a way that makes it genuinely readable. I realize the original is a classic, but I feel like the novel might suffer more from a contemporary reading than Furuya’s adaptation does.

(click images to enlarge)

Note: No Longer Human reads from left-to-right

MICHELLE: I was surprised by just how readable it was, actually. Just looking at the plot, you’d expect it to be depressing, but it’s so skillfully done that I enjoyed it very much! But yes, you’re absolutely right that updating the story was a smart choice, especially as it enabled a bit of self-insertion on Furuya’s part. Ordinarily, I’m kind of annoyed when mangaka break the fourth wall—particularly if they do so in a silly way—but here, Furuya’s interludes of discovering and being transfixed by Oba’s story are absolutely essential in setting the mood. We feel like he’s captivated right along with us.

MJ: Yes, he’s sort of sharing it with us like a guilty pleasure, and it really works as one. I think the story benefits greatly from being presented as an outrageous internet diary that’s impossible to stop reading. There’s something about this story that makes me feel like I’ve stayed up all night reading, strung out on caffeine and cheese puffs, and, frankly, that really suits it. I kind of wish I’d read it like that for real, actually.

Talking about it like this, it would be easy to gloss over Furuya’s artistry, though, which is put to pretty spectacular use in this series, wouldn’t you agree?

MICHELLE: I can imagine the back cover blurb now. “It had me craving cheese puffs.” – MJ, Manga Bookshelf

As for Furuya’s artistry, I whole-heartedly agree. His talent was on prodigious display in Genkaku Picasso, the only other series of his that I’ve read, but it really suits a darker story like this one.

I was particularly struck by the depictions of Oba as a marionette controlled by his father’s money and/or putting on a show for his peers. It’s such a vivid symbol of someone going through the motions of trying to be normal! And even though Furuya occasionally uses some symbolism that might seem overly obvious—like the surfeit of bugs lurking beneath the petals of the flowers Oba admires with his fiancée (we must return to this point)—it’s done with such finesse that it doesn’t seem trite.

MJ: My previous experience with Furuya has consisted only of Lychee Light Club, which I found visually striking on a nearly theatrical level, but juvenile and kind of emotionally empty. It’s nice to see his gifts utilized so differently here. There was a lot of sexually-charged violence in Lychee Light Club, and certainly there’s no lack of sexual themes in No Longer Human, but it’s approached so differently… it really feels like a much more mature work.

MICHELLE: I did wonder how this compared to Lychee, which I still need to read.

I wanted to ask… did you find the sexual content as supremely unsexy as I did? Beyond not being idealized at all, there are some closeups of things like twirling tongues that look downright disgusting, almost like something drawn by Junji Ito! I wonder if this is Furuya’s way of depicting the impure motives of Oba in these situations. It would be completely out of place to portray what he’s doing as titillating, let alone dreamy.

MJ: I don’t know if I’d say that I found it supremely unsexy, but it definitely does not read as something that’s supposed to be titillating. It’s interesting, too, even though the character confesses early on that his frequent, semi-anonymous sexual encounters are the only things that make him feel good (“When I’m here seems like the only time the smile on my face in genuine”), from the reader’s perspective, he seems just as detached during those trysts as he is the rest of the time. I almost feel like he’s fooling himself when he says that, and that this is reflected in Furuya’s artwork.

MICHELLE: There’s definitely a lot of emphasis on what makes Oba comfortable in a relationship. With the ladies in the “massage parlors,” it’s because he doesn’t have to use any subterfuge. With the members of the political group, it’s because everyone is a misfit in some way. And the two loving/honestly affectionate relationships he has are with women who exhibit a sort of elegant melancholy. Outsiders themselves, in a way.

But speaking of fooling himself, what on earth is going on with the abrupt change in the end of volume two?! Oba has maintained all along that he has no interest in and cannot fathom embarking upon ordinary relationships, and yet here he is, falling in love with and ultimately proposing to a virginal girl who works in a smoke shop. I’m sure he’s got an idealized version of her, but man, I just wanted to shake her and go, “Yoshino, no!” That poor girl is in for a very rude awakening. What will be her price for associating with Oba?

MJ: Yes, disaster is clearly just around the corner, in the same sure way as you’d expect in, say, a Dickens novel. Yoshino is doomed just as it seems Oba is truly doomed, and nobody’s even trying to hide it. Furuya makes the most of this, too. I’m glad you mentioned that last page in the volume, with a swarm of insects seemingly prepared to devour a flower. It’s a melodramatic image, I suppose, but so perfect for the tone of the story.

MICHELLE: Exactly! He just seems so much like a different person here from his behavior, which is emphasized by the drastic haircut Furuya has given him. It really comes out of nowhere, narratively speaking, but I have faith that Furuya is going to make it all make sense in the end. I suppose it helps knowing that, theoretically, all of this did happen to the same protagonist in the original novel (and in the life that it’s based upon?).

MJ: Well, I don’t know if I’d say he feels like a different person, but definitely a different version of a person who keeps reinventing himself over and over, in order to survive. Or perhaps I should say, “in order to survive without having to ever put himself out or curb his own desires,” because really, that’s what his survival is about. So here he is, seemingly falling in love for real for the first time ever, yet in a way, what I see is a guy who has finally figured out how to reinvent himself on the inside–enough to fool even himself. And really, that can’t go well.

MICHELLE: Maybe it’s all the drinking he’s doing that’s enabling him to fool himself to such an extent, to actually believe in one of these personas he’s crafted for himself. And I think there’s a line in there, too, about how living with Mama (do we ever learn her real name?) is so peaceful and great that he starts to believe that all the world is the same. But ultimately, he’s still pursuing the kind of parasite arrangement that’s been sustaining him the past few years, but viewing it through the illusion of love.

MJ: And in a way, maybe that’s the only direction he could really go at this point. After having finally become too disgusted even with himself in his usual arrangements, he’s gotten by with Mama (no, I don’t think we know her real name) because she lets him off the hook so completely. He’s able to be a child, a lover, an employee, whatever, but ultimately she’s just letting him play at those roles without expecting him to be any of them.

He can’t go back to what he was exactly, so what else would he do but move on to something he could play at wholeheartedly with someone who is unlikely to notice? Yoshino’s lack of experience makes her the perfect fit for this phase, because she won’t burst his bubble, at least not for a while.

MICHELLE: And I’m sure she’ll temporarily inspire him to clean up his act—stop drinking, stop blowing the income he makes from his manga—but it just can’t last long. And maybe one could look at that like a good thing, but I kind of hate him for inflicting himself on her. It’s like, what he sees as the best thing that’s ever happened to him, I see as the worst thing he’s ever done.

MJ: Yeah, I agree. Not that the other women have deserved him or anything, but to some extent they’ve enabled him by giving in to their own issues and insecurities. They’ve knowingly let him manipulate them (even if they hid it from themselves as best they could), but Yoshina isn’t worldly enough to grasp what’s happening or what kind of guy he is. And on some level, he knows that, and is taking advantage of it.

I feel almost cruel, not giving him any benefit of the doubt here, but the guy hasn’t given me anything else to work with!

MICHELLE: Whereas I don’t feel cruel at all! He’s been very frank about his own shortcomings and survival tactics throughout.

I rather wish I knew more about the source material or the other adaptations, so as to pinpoint which elements have been introduced by or presented best by Furuya, but on the other hand, I don’t want to muddy my mind with other versions of the story when I like this one so much.

MJ: I admit I suspect I wouldn’t have much patience for the novel at this point in my life. There was a time when I really loved self-indulgent tragedy, but those days are long past. I think Furuya’s wry adaptation may be exactly the thing for me now, and I feel content to leave it at that, at least for the moment. Perhaps I’ll change my mind after I’ve read the end. I’m pretty anxious to read volume three at this point.

MICHELLE: So am I! And I think I’m going to go back and read Lychee soon, too. I was unsure about it, but now I feel confident I could admire it, even if it doesn’t reach the heights of No Longer Human. Too bad CMX folded before they could release any of 51 Ways to Save Her.

MJ: I’m regretful about that now, too. Let’s hope someone else picks it up soon!

For more Furuya talk, be sure to check out this month’s Manga Moveable Feast, hosted by Ash Brown at Experiments in Manga.

Roundtable: Sailors Moon & V, first volumes

December 30, 2011 by MJ, Michelle Smith, Sean Gaffney and David Welsh 2 Comments

MJ: Back in March, the Manga Bookshelf Battle Robot got together to share some squee about Kodansha Comics’ announcement regarding their upcoming re-release of Naoko Takeuchi’s Sailor Moon. nine months later, this re-release is well underway. The debut volumes of of both Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon and its predecessor, Codename Sailor V dominated Matt Blind’s Manga Bestseller charts for months, with preorders of later volumes hitting the top charts well before they’ve been released.

As a newcomer to the series, I’ve been anxious to reconvene the Battle Robot’s original discussion now that I’ve had some real exposure to the series, so I’m quite pleased to say that Michelle, David, and Sean (a newcomer to the Bookshelf since our first go-around!) have agreed to join me once more!

I’ll talk about my impressions of the series in a moment, but first, I’d like to ask the rest of you–all fans of the series previously to one extent or another–how well the series has held up for you since your first experiences with it. Has this re-read stood up to your expectations?

SEAN: Oh, definitely. I’ve always liked the manga better than the anime, even though I’ve enjoyed both immensely. And since I’ve been involved in the fandom since 1996 or so, I did not have any issues with Usagi’s characterization the way that some people have. Honestly, the re-read of Vol. 1 of both Moon and V just made me realize how much I wanted to read the rest.

MICHELLE: I actually liked it *more* than I thought I would, because I was unprepared for what a difference actually reading it in English would make. There’s an immediacy to having understandable words on the page that you just don’t get when looking back and forth between a physical book in Japanese and a translation on a screen. Like Sean, I have loved Sailor Moon for a long time, so Usagi was exactly what I expected her to be at this early stage. It must help having advanced knowledge of her more competent moments!

DAVID: This is actually my first time around with the manga. I’ve seen a lot of the anime, though. This is really rare for me, but I actually like the anime more, and I think it’s because of what Michelle just said about Usagi’s competence. I’m reading a lot of titles right now that feature spunky, can-do heroines, and this early evolution of Usagi strikes me as a huge, can’t-do whiner. Is that blasphemy? I love the other sailors, though.

SEAN: This is an issue that I’ve thought about for some time. I discussed it a bit in my reviews of Teru Teru x Shonen as well. When you have a story where your goal is to take a very flawed heroine and gradually make her grow up and improve, how annoying can you make her at the start without losing your audience? I know with both Sailor Moon and TTxS, I had people tell me, “I don’t care if she gets better, I found her so aggravating I don’t want to read how it happens.” As David noted, the process might be helped here by the addition of the other senshi, who the reader can identify with as well. (Ami was the most popular senshi in many polls in both Japan and North America, for reasons that should be obvious.) It also might not be helped by seeing the Sailor V manga as well, as Minako is flawed in different ways, and I think Western fans approve of ‘shallow ditz’ more than ‘whining crybaby’ by default.

I also read the Super S manga first, so had exposure to Usagi’s epicness before I went back to read the early stuff.

DAVID: I think the comparison with Sailor V definitely doesn’t help, because her reaction to the circumstances feels more natural. She’s excited that she can become glamorous and powerful and, to a lesser extent, help people. If Usagi had something compelling going on in her life, the added responsibilities might actually seem like a burden, but she seems put out because it’s cutting into her nap time. It reminds me of how right Joss Whedon got this dynamic so right with Buffy, whose destiny was really gruesome and dangerous, and Cordelia, who went from being very shallow to really enjoying making a difference. Usagi is a very “Math is hard!” type. I’m looking forward when manga Usagi catches up with anime Usagi, who was a lot more likable and credible.

MJ: This might sound crazy, but I was actually really surprised after I read volume one and then saw everyone describing Usagi as annoying. I get that she’s slow to embrace her destiny and complains about it a lot, but it didn’t affect me the same way. I guess maybe I’m used to working with teens who complain that you’re ruining their lives if you ask them to practice between lessons or enunciate when they sing. By comparison, Usagi’s whining seem pretty reasonable. She doesn’t strike me as overly immature for her age, and I thought her little mental freak-out near the end of the volume over the fact that she’s supposed to be the leader of this group of girls, each to whom she feels stunningly inferior, read as very natural and relatable. I actually kind of…. like Usagi. I wonder what that says about me! Heh.

SEAN: I’m trying to think of comparable heroines… Miaka from Fushigi Yuugi, if I recall, had a similar issue with fans calling her a ‘whiner’. It seems to be far more of an issue here than in Japan… impulsiveness is not as much of a sin as reluctance or running away.

MICHELLE: Oh, maybe consuming the story out of order has a hand in my feelings, too, since my exposure to Sailor Moon was the third season of the anime. I guess all we can really do is assure people that Usagi does mature while still essentially remaining herself.

SEAN: Actually, while we’re discussing the anime, and how some of us saw that first, I wanted to mention the only character who is noticeably different between her anime and manga incarnations: Rei Hino. Rei in the manga tends towards the cool and collected, and might occasionally be grumpy or irritated with people, but for the most part is meant to show ‘aloof’ more than anything else. Rei in the anime, is, well, a hothead, who is contrasted with Usagi – and also compared, as the fights the two of them get into (and the arguments over Mamoru) make us realize their similarities. At least in this first volume, Usagi does not really have this – the other three senshi we meet are all more together or have better attitudes. I do wonder if the manga might be better presented in five huge volumes, one for each arc – I think Usagi grows a LOT in future volumes, and seeing this is easier once you get Vol. 2 and 3 down as well. And as I said earlier, I wonder why Rei was the only one gives major changes for the anime. (You can argue Minako was made flakier, and to an extent that’s true, but Rei’s seems DIFFERENT in a way that Minako does not.)

MJ: I’ve never seen the anime, outside of maybe one episode, so I came to the first volume of the series (and Sailor V too, of course) without really knowing what to expect. Even though Sailor Moon is iconic, I never had a clear sense of why people really loved it, even when friends would try to tell me. So I feel like I came to it with no expectations at all.

Honestly, I was charmed from the very first pages. It helps of course that I adore older shoujo art styles, but it wasn’t just that. There is a sense of, oh… girlish joy woven into the fabric of these books that I haven’t experienced to this extent since my pre-teen years when I was consuming things like Maida’s Little Shop and the Betsy-Tacy books as rapidly as I could acquire them. Of course Maida Westabrook and Betsy Ray weren’t fighting evil, but theirs were the kind of books that, even in their dated settings, seemed to take for granted that girls were brilliant, capable people with nothing to be ashamed of. They could run their own businesses or become famous writers, but they could also angst over friendships and romantic prospects, make mistakes, hate cooking, and leave their family’s religion, without tarnishing their awesomeness as girls in the slightest.

Sailor Moon and Codename: Sailor V are the same kind of books for me. The short skirts and concern over prettiness that I worried might be a problem for me, ultimately are exactly the opposite. These girls are allowed to care about feeling pretty and other typical teen things, but there’s never the sense that they need to care about these things in order to please boys, or for any reason other than because they enjoy it. In a way, this may even be related to why I like Usagi. She doesn’t feel terribly ashamed for wanting to nap instead of being ordered around by a cat with big claims on her destiny, and on some level I’m with her on that.

MICHELLE: MJ, I’m so glad that you love these books. I remember in our first roundtable attempting to reassure you that the girls calling themselves pretty really makes all the difference in the world; it’s like an empowerment thing. As I read your comment, I wondered whether people who approach this manga will fall into two camps: those who love it while spewing copious hearts and those who wonder what all the fuss is about. Is there a middle ground of people who simply kind of like it? I’m not sure.

Sean’s point illustrates why I’d recommend reading the manga and watching the anime. Personally, I like the manga version of Rei a lot more, and her squabbles with Usagi in the anime are kind of irritating. But there’s more humor in the anime, more fleshing out of character relationships (or at least more flirting when Haruka and Michiru come along), and more time for the villains. Several of Queen Beryl’s henchmen are dispatched in the first volume of the manga but stick around for dozens of anime episodes. Some of the villains are fun characters so it’s nice to have the opportunity to spend a little more time with them.

DAVID: I definitely feel like I fall into the middle ground that you theorized about, Michelle. I like a lot of these girls, and I like the fact that they still get to be teen-aged girls with specific lives and interests outside of their shared destiny. I tend to be of the belief that a little vanity and a little glamor should be a universal quality in super-hero fiction, which Sailor Moon certainly is. There should always be moments when the protagonists kind of step back and realize that their lives are pretty fabulously cool in a lot of ways, and I definitely get that vibe here.

I also really like the fact that none of the Sailors, even Usagi, are shrinking violets when the time for battle comes. They might not know exactly what they’re doing yet, but they know it has to be done, and they don’t tremble. After some awkward moments in the first volume of the generally wonderful Princess Knight where Osamu Tezuka seemed to be suggesting that a girl can’t be feminine and tough at the same time, Sailor Moon is definitely a tonic in that regard.

MICHELLE: Your first paragraph reminds me of a great exchange between Buffy and Faith (and for once I am not the first person to inject Buffy into a conversation!) in season seven where they’re commiserating about their dangerous destiny and Faith says, “Thank God we’re hot chicks with super powers.” “Takes the edge off,” Buffy agrees.

That sentiment definitely manifests in Sailor Moon, as I can think of several painful or pivotal moments for Usagi during which she has transformed into a serene and lovely version of herself.

SEAN: That’s a key thing about the series: Mamoru may give encouragement, or tell her not to doubt herself, He never saves her. She’s always the soldier, even when she’s the princess. In fact, that’s the unique thing about this incarnation as opposed to past lives: she *is* a soldier, as well as the princess to be protected. And this is one of the main reasons why they don’t die again (well, OK, they do, but they get better.) Mamoru may be a dashing prince and boyfriend, but he loves her strength. (Also, note how the series shows that a) you don’t need a boyfriend to validate yourself, but also b) if you get one, that having a handsome and understanding boyfriend IS great.)

MJ: So to switch gears a little, let’s talk about Sailor V. I read this first, and though I liked it quite a lot, I did get pretty weary of its string of similar villains, whose only purpose in villainy seemed to be making people their slaves. After a while, it almost seemed like a running joke. Is it just me?

SEAN: Sailor V is a bit schizophrenic simply due to how it was conceived and played out. The magazine it ran in (Run Run) came out, I think, only 6 times a year. This necessitated every single chapter reintroducing the basic plot for new readers. (You see that a lot in some Hakusensha shoujo, such as Natsume’s Book of Friends or S.A.). Then once she was told to create Sailor Moon, she drew V sporadically for the next 7 years. And by sporadically I mean ‘about 5-6 chapters in the entirety of 7 years’. I think as she did this, she realized she wanted to wrap it up in such a way that it could end with V joining the cast of Sailor Moon (as indeed she does). Thus, Volume 2, which comes out everywhere but comic shops this week, has a much stronger plot and is slightly more serious than Volume 1 is.

As for the one-shot villains being a running joke, Takeuchi doesn’t come close to the creators of the anime. How can one top Doorknobdar, for example? XD Most shoujo magical girl genres feature incredibly silly one-shot minor villains, and stronger major villains who are not as silly. We’ll meet Minako’s main nemesis in Volume 2 as well.

MICHELLE: I had forgotten the doorknob one! I remembered “Hurdler,” who is basically a tennis shoe imbued with demonic power who menaces a bunch of runners. Probably I remember that one because it appears in the episode depicting how Haruka and Michiru met which I *may* have watched about four times as often as the rest of the series.

So yeah, I’m not sure if Takeuchi intended the enslavement plot to be a joke or what, but you’re definitely not the only one to wonder what the point of it all was, MJ. Not only that, they’re all singing sensations. Was Takeuchi making a dig at the idol biz?

DAVID: I have to admit that I found myself favoring the low-rent cheese of V. it doesn’t speak well of me, and I can see why Takeuchi was asked to do a proper version of the story, but I just… like it.

MJ: I think Takeuchi’s “low-rent cheese” is some of the most fun I’ve seen, so I can get on board with that, David.

So, other than Usagi’s character development, what should I be looking forward to in future volumes of Sailor Moon?

DAVID: Well, I’m not sure what’s on the horizon exactly, but I know that it will involve lots more Sailors and sidekicks, and, in my book, the more crowded a super-hero book is, the better.

SEAN: As you’d expect, you’ll see Minako and Artemis join the cast. Get ready for a lot of destiny talk, as well as epic fantasy flashbacks. There will also be some bloodshed – Takeuchi is not afraid of violence when it suits her plot. Vols. 2 and 3 will be less episodic and more serious – though there will still be humor. And a very interesting – and controversial – plot will drop in as the first arc ends. Literally.

MICHELLE: Ha. I’d say *that* particular plot is even more controversial than Usagi herself!

I am tempted to squee about the eventual debut of the Starlights (volume eleven), but they’re around so briefly in the manga that I’m not sure you’ll love them as much as I do after prolonged anime exposure. Actually, they bring around a controversial plot in their own way, or at least something that’s controversial among the fandom…

SEAN: Are there still Seiya/Usagi fans? Sheesh…

MICHELLE: Yep. There was some big brouhaha at Ask a Pretty Soldier just recently having to do with that pairing.

MJ: Oh, fandom. I’m not sad to have missed out on all of that.

Thanks to all of you for joining me here. I look forward to reading both series’ second volumes!

Off the Shelf: Natsume Ono

November 17, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 5 Comments

MJ: Well, hello, Michelle! Is it really time for another Manga Moveable Feast?

MICHELLE: It seems like every time I turn around there’s a new one!

MJ: Agreed! But when that Feast revolves around the likes of Natsume Ono, I’m not going to complain. So, we’ve each read some Ono this week in preparation for the Feast. Michelle, would you like to begin?

MICHELLE: Sure! It’s been a pretty busy time for me lately and while my tired brain balked at the daunting prospect of getting into Ono’s longer works, her collections of short stories presented an option that I can only describe as “undemanding,” and I mean that in the nicest way.

First, I read La Quinta Camera, which is a series of linked short stories revolving around an apartment in Italy. Four of its rooms are occupied by middle-aged men of incredibly “singular” personalities—Massimo, the landlord, who is nurturing and kind; Luca, the small hippy busker, who is sweet and child-like; Celestino, the short and mustachioed guy, who is annoying yet much-loved; and Al, the truck driver who is either asleep or at work. Massimo routinely takes in exchange students to let the fifth room and, as the story opens, Danish language student Charlotte arrives.

It’s a bit of a surprise when, in chapter two, Charlotte has moved out and been replaced by Alessandro, but this introduces the central gimmick of the book: in each chapter, there’s a new tenant. In a sort of… gentle and vague way, focus shifts amongst the residents during the course of six chapters, during which time Luca finds and loses love, Charlotte offers to have Al’s babies, and Massimo’s girlfriend announces that she’s pregnant, which means everyone must move out.

Objectively, I realize that works like House of Five Leaves are better than La Quinta Camera, but I have to say that I liked it a lot. I just simply like stories where people are nice to each other… where they remember to leave Christmas messages for the lonely Japanese kid left alone in their apartment over the holiday. With its light touch and pleasant feeling, his is the kind of brain balm I sometimes require.

MJ: There’s a real warmth to Ono’s short stories that indeed serve as kind of a healing balm, in my view. I don’t see this as being a lesser type of storytelling (even if I tend to prefer something a bit more epic), and it’s especially lovely in Ono’s hands. Sure, love something powerful, but a light touch can often be just what’s needed.

MICHELLE: I think I’m probably just not in the mood for something powerful as often as you are, hence my fondness for less-than-awesome media tie-in fiction. There’s some pressure to be profound when responding to Great Works that one just doesn’t feel when reading a book about Buffy. And so La Quinta Camera performed a similar function for me.

Anyhow, I suspect you have read something a bit more epic this week.

MJ: Well, I’m not sure if “epic” is an appropriate word for House of Five Leaves, though it’s long-form storytelling of course. But it’s rather leisurely, really, much like Ono’s shorter works but with expanded opportunity for exploration.

I tried to read volume four a while back, and somehow couldn’t latch on to it. I know now that it must have been me, because there’s a whole lot going on in this volume, and it clicked immediately with me on my second try.

Much of the volume revolves around Ginta, a new sort-of-member taken on reluctantly by the Five Leaves. He’s the cast-off son of a wealthy family who tricks his way into the Leaves, but not without revealing a whole lot more of himself than he intended. We also learn new things about the Leaves’ leader, Yaichi, in this volume, and it’s definitely not pretty.

What makes House of Five Leaves so consistently intriguing, though, is the failed samurai that provides the series’ heart. With Masa at its core, there’s always an odd mingling of warmth and unease running through the story. These feelings are where Masa lives, and one has the sense that this has always been the case. There’s a heartbreaking flashback in this volume, in which we see Masa being basically thrown out of his home for being so ill-suited as a samurai. Yet it’s hard to imagine exactly what he should be. He’s all ambiguity (and a little self-loathing), and certainly not a hero, yet it’s impossible not to care for him, and it’s obvious that Ono does.

I’ve loved this series from the beginning, and it’s only become more dear to me over time. It’s probably my favorite of Ono’s work, and that’s saying quite a lot. I look forward to the next volume.

MICHELLE: I read and loved the first volume, but when I recently attempted to read volume two (with a goal of catching up on the series) I had a similar experience in which it just failed to engage me somehow. With Ono’s short stories I found that having a dedicated amount of time to just sit and consume them in one sitting was ideal, so perhaps that’s where I went wrong with Five Leaves. I’ve definitely not given up on the series.

MJ: I’m glad you haven’t given up. It really is one of my favorite currently-running series.

So, speaking of Ono’s short stories, we both read Tesoro this week, just released from Viz. Want to talk about that a bit?

MICHELLE: Sure!

Tesoro (the Italian word for “treasure”) is a collection of fourteen stories by Natsume Ono. The earliest works were published as doujinshi, while more recent stories appeared in IKKI. Unlike La Quinta Camera, the stories here are not overtly serialized, though there are some recurring characters and common themes (like curmudgeonly guys who really love their wives).

For the most part, though, the stories seem to be short expressions of ideas that don’t go very far in developing the characters. Some stories are whimsical—the introductory piece, for example, consists entirely of a bear taking the bus to get some donuts then going home again—while some are more serious, like the story of an orphaned girl who sees a potential father in every famous man of whom she becomes aware. It’s an intriguing concept, and one can definitely see seeds of Ono’s eventual storytelling abilities, but it’s lacking the warmth that imbued even the loose-limbed La Quinta Camera with touching moments.

I definitely enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong. But I think it would be more enjoyable to those already familiar with Ono rather than for those who are wondering who she is and what the fuss is all about.

MJ: I agree, though, like you, I certainly enjoyed Tesoro. One of my favorite stories in the volume was “senzo titolo #3,” about a father taking his young son to see his estranged father for the first time. There’s a lot packed into this little story–apprehension, excitement, some lingering resentment–all without ever actually seeing the grandfather ourselves. It’s a little glimpse of Ono at her best. There are a lot of moments like that here.

I think you’re absolutely right, though. This is a collection for fans to linger over, rather than an effective introduction to the author.

Did you have a favorite story?

MICHELLE: Oh, I loved “senzo titolo #3” because I loved how the dad started singing the Coke jingle in public and the kid was embarrassed. :) I thought that was a nice little true-to-life moment.

I think my favorite is “Moyashi Couple” (or “bean sprout” couple), because the husband is seen as a grouch by the neighbors but once he learns the neighbors think he and his wife don’t get along, he makes sure that they go out and about in public to disprove that notion. There’s a really nice line in it about the neighbors being able to tell that he’s actually kind because, though he usually walks in an impatient swagger, when he’s with his wife he automatically assumes a more leisurely pace so as to be able to walk beside her. Maybe I’m just a sucker for crusty guys with hearts of gold, but I think that’s the story I won’t forget from this collection.

MJ: I liked that too, and probably for similar reasons. I was also fond of “The Frooms,” about a boy with two domineering older sisters, whose dad tries (and fails miserably) to equalize things. It’s funny and poignant all at once. Poor dad!

MICHELLE: Oh yes, I love how that poor dad is just flabbergasted that his big plan to give his son a dazzling gift is derailed.

It occurs to me that these are like drabbles. Little ideas that suggest what a longer extrapolation on the theme could be like without actually, y’know, extrapolating.

MJ: That’s an excellent point, Michelle! They do indeed have the same, wispy quality. This is what a real “slice of life” looks like.

MICHELLE: Exactly! Perhaps the term has never been more literally applied!

MJ: So while I’d be more likely to hand a new reader something like Ristorante Paradiso, Tesoro really is a treat for Ono’s existing fans.

Read more about the work of Natsume Ono at this month’s Manga Moveable Feast, hosted by Manga Widget’s Alex Hoffman.

3 Things Thursday: Fruits Basket Favorites

July 28, 2011 by MJ 44 Comments

It’s Manga Moveable Feast time once again, which so often inspires me to think about 3 things. This week, I have with me a special guest for 3 Things Thursday, Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith, who, like me, is a big fan of this month’s MMF topic, Natsuki Takaya’s shoujo epic Fruits Basket.

We’ve already talked at length about the series as a whole, but one thing we’d like to linger on just a little bit longer is some discussion of our very favorite characters in the series. Fruits Basket is a treasure trove of complex, deeply moving characters, each of which could easily inspire hours of discussion. We don’t have hours, but we do have some favorites, and this seemed like the ideal time to share them. We’ve each picked three, so let’s start with Michelle’s! (Click images to enlarge.)

Michelle’s 3 Favorite Fruits Basket Characters

1. Yuki Sohma – My love for Yuki springs largely from a sense of pride in how much he blossoms over the course of the series. As he recounts the story of his childhood to Manabe, Yuki says, “There was something I wanted… loving parents… a home that no one would ever want to leave. A happy home. A warm place… with everyone smiling at me.” But Yuki was denied this. His parents valued him not for himself, but as a tool to gain favor within the Sohma family. Family members revered and reviled him just because of his status as the rat, something he had no control over. Even when he left the main house to live with Shigure and attend high school, the other students saw him not for himself, but as a princely figure.

Only Tohru saw and accepted the real Yuki. And once he found that with her, once he had that warm and happy home, he was finally able to move beyond the past and begin figuring out what kind of person he wanted to be in the future. One of my favorite Yuki moments occurs directly on the heels of his conversation with Manabe, where Yuki articulates his desire to give support to someone in the future, not just receive it.

2. Ayame Sohma – As a teenager, Ayame was self-absorbed and didn’t realize, until Hatori pointed it out to him, that the things he said and did could actually hurt other people. One of those he hurt was Yuki, who had reached out to him as someone he might be able to tell about his unhappy life as Akito’s companion. Ayame failed him then, but now regrets that deeply and tries his best to form a relationship with the little brother whom he once ignored. Sure, he’s kooky and outlandish, but he’s also absolutely sincere in his love for Yuki, and little by little wins his confidence.

My favorite Ayame moment occurs in volume thirteen, when he interrupts the parent-teacher conference Yuki and his mother are attending, deflects all of their mother’s hostility onto himself, and helps Yuki find the courage to tell her that he will be the one deciding his own fate. I also love that Ayame immediately texts Hatori to let him know Yuki said he is reliable.

3. Hatori Sohma – Hatori, the quietly suffering woobie. How I love him. There are no shortage of sad characters with painful backgrounds in Fruits Basket, but the first such story we learn about in detail involves Hatori and Kana, a special, optimistic woman who loved Hatori and accepted him, curse and all. What she couldn’t accept was the guilt after Akito reacted violently to their relationship and severely wounded Hatori, putting him in the dreadful position of eventually wiping all of her memories of their time together in order to ease her suffering. Because this revelation occurs so early in the series, everything Hatori does from that point on is tinged with sadness as we know what he’s gone through. He’s also the only one who can reign in Ayame’s enthusiasm or dare to talk with Shigure about his schemes.

So, while I wouldn’t exactly call this my favorite Hatori memory, it’s certainly an indelible one.

MJ’s 3 Favorite Fruits Basket Characters

1. & 2. Arisa Uotani & Saki Hanajima – Like David, I’m a sucker for great female friendships, and no friends could be greater than Fruits Basket‘s Uotani and Hanajima. Though they are each fantastic characters in their own right, nothing beats them as a team, looking after (and being looked after by) their dearest treasure in the world, Tohru Honda. They’re happiest as a trio, of course, but fiercest as a deadly duo that doesn’t take crap from anyone. Not that Takaya limits them to a life of badassery, mind you. They’re also just as kind, broken, and unexpectedly vulnerable as anyone else in the series, and that’s saying quite a bit. I would happily read an entire series chronicling the lives of Uotani and Hanajima, their adventures, loves, and triumphs as young adults and beyond. They’re just that awesome.

Still, I admit I love them best when they’re kicking ass. Don’t you?

3. Momiji Sohma – And should one require more evidence that David and I share a brain, my third favorite character in the series—and my very favorite Sohma—is little rabbit Momiji. We meet Momiji as a hoppity, cheerful boy, but it isn’t long before we learn that he’s one tough kid. Having watched his own mother beg to have her memories of him erased, he lives as a stranger from her, keeping a brotherly eye on his little sister from afar, whom he hopes he might one day be allowed to spend time with. He’s also the first person to put himself between Akito and Tohru—a favor Tohru returns in kind.

Though Momiji is at his best when he’s happy (and awesomely brave when he’s being rebellious), one of my very favorite Momiji moments is this scene from volume eleven. After standing up to Akito, against the grain of their supernatural bond, and watching Tohru, in turn, stand up for him, he finds himself suddenly overcome by being just a kid, unable to hold back his tears. It’s a rare glimpse at the most vulnerable side of Momiji, and I dare you not to tear up when reading it in context.

Readers, which three characters from Fruits Basket do you love best? Let us know in comments!

Off the Shelf: Fruits Basket

July 27, 2011 by MJ and Michelle Smith 16 Comments

MJ: It’s time once again for the Manga Moveable Feast, this month featuring Natsuki Takaya’s Fruits Basket, which just happens to be a favorite series for both of us! Though one of the Feast’s greatest draws for me is the opportunity to try things I otherwise might not, I have to admit that sometimes it’s nice to simply have an excuse to wallow in things I already love. I suspect you feel the same, Michelle, yes?

MICHELLE: Oh, definitely. Particularly when it’s something like Fruits Basket, where there’s just so much going on. It really provides ample opportunity for wallowing, and even for sounding scholarly while one does it!

MJ: Well, I don’t know what my chances are of sounding scholarly, but I’m sure I’ll be able to natter on and on. Where shall we start?

MICHELLE: How about with some background regarding our own introductions to the series? Mine’s a bit of a long story, so you can go first if you like!

MJ: Well, as you know I got into manga much later than most, so by the time I’d even learned what it was, Fruits Basket was already a phenomenon in the US. My online friends who read manga raved about it. There was even a girl in my office, who, when she found out I was into manga, rushed to tell me about her own love for Fruits Basket. Like most long-time nerds, I was instinctively suspicious of anything popular with the masses, and I was still battling my own issues with “girly” things at the time (yes, I rant because I understand), so I assumed Fruits Basket was not for me.

Then, in October of 2008, I went to the New York Anime Festival for the first time. I’m incredibly shy in person—a condition that seems to have worsened over the past ten years or so—and though I’d met a few manga bloggers previously online, I was much too terrified to approach anyone. Thankfully, a couple of them introduced themselves to me, one being the lovely Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane, who as you probably know is a major fan of Fruits Basket. So on the final day of the convention, overtaken by some kind of gratitude-induce madness, I found a copy of the first volume of the series and bought it.

When I got home, I hardly knew what to do. How could I have purchased something like that? What insanity had possessed me? In mortification and despair, I sat down to read it, and shockingly discovered that it was good. I had one major issue with it (we’ll get to that later), but really, I was so intrigued by the story’s odd set of characters, that I simply couldn’t wait to read more. Fortunately, my dear friend Deanna (who also introduced me to Wild Adapter, if you recall) felt my distress and sent me her entire collection of the series in the mail. I think I consumed the whole thing in the course of a day or two—what was published in English, anyway. Then I joined other US fans in the agonizing wait for the series’ last few volumes.

MICHELLE: I think I knew most of that, but not Ysabet’s involvement!

I was introduced to shoujo manga and anime in late 2001 and attended my first convention, Shoujocon, in July of 2002. The big hit in the anime-viewing rooms that year was Gravitation, and I too fell under the sway of its charms. So much so that when I got home, I sought out a fansub videotape of its OVA, which had not been shown at the convention.

The Gravitation OVA is only two episodes long and, completely unbeknownst to me, the kindly fansubber had decided to fill the extra space on the tape with the first two episodes of Fruits Basket. I had seen merchandise for the show at Shoujocon, but knew nothing about it, so it came as a wonderful surprise when I immediately fell in love. My timing was good, because the first DVD of the Fruits Basket anime came out in October 2002. I vividly remember watching it with my friend in her apartment, replaying the most amusing Shigure bits. (He’s a lot less complicated in the anime.) Around the same time, I bought a bunch of the manga in Japanese and, with the help of text translations, started making my way through it.

The fourth and final volume of the anime was released on DVD in May of 2003, and during that year I also read volumes two through ten of the manga in Japanese. Finally, in February 2004, the first TOKYOPOP edition came out in English. Throughout 2004 and 2005 I read the English editions while continuing to keep up with the Japanese, but eventually, when we were only four or five volumes behind, I stopped importing and just started following new developments via summaries posted on a mailing list. I didn’t actually read the final volumes until this week, since knowing how it ended allowed me to postpone the moment when it would really be over.

So, to sum up this incredibly lengthy saga… I’ve been a Fruits Basket fan for almost a decade!

MJ: So, I think most manga fans are probably familiar with at least the general premise of Fruits Basket, but I think it’s worth establishing just in case. Recently orphaned (and exceedingly cheerful) high school sophomore Tohru Honda, through a series of wacky circumstances, comes to live with three pretty young men, one of whom is the typical “prince” at her school. As it turns out, the three are part of a family possessed by spirits of the Chinese zodiac, which causes affected family members to transform into animals when physically stressed or when hugged by a member of the opposite sex.

On the surface, this sounds like the most simplistic romantic comedy—at best a series of madcap scenes featuring lots of running around, accidental hugging, and cute animal transformations, at worst yet another tale of an intellectually vacant shoujo heroine who is inexplicably pursued by a series of dreamy bishounen. And though it might be possible to maintain these expectations a volume or two in, it soon becomes clear that both Fruits Basket and its characters are something else entirely.

MICHELLE: I think the first inklings that we are in for something far darker start in volume two, when Tohru visits the main house to talk to Hatori. He cautions her to leave Shigure’s house and not involve herself with the Sohma family any further. “I’m sure Shigure didn’t make clear the gravity of our condition,” he says. “The Sohma family continues to be possessed by vengeful spirits. It’s not the fun and games you might think. It’s bizarre… sinister… cursed. Before you regret getting involved with the Sohma… get out.”

That’s a pretty chilling development for what had seemed to be a simple romantic comedy! It only gets darker from here—though elements of humor definitely remain—as Tohru learns more about the curse and how it has affected those afflicted. By the end, we see that even Akito, long set up as the villain of the series, is not immune to damage resulting from frantically trying to maintain a tight grip on the family members sharing the so-called “bond.”

MJ: The hints are there even earlier on, I think. In the first volume, when Tohru witnesses Kyo’s transformation for the first time, she’s told that the head of the family may order to have her memory erased, as he did years ago with some children who accidentally discovered Yuki’s secret. It’s discussed almost casually, but that’s actually what makes it feel so sinister. Though we still know so little, we’re suddenly aware that we’re not in some kind of whimsical fantasy where it’s natural that people might transform into animals. What’s going on with the Sohmas is serious enough, and has been going on long enough, that they’d think very little of erasing children’s memories to protect it. Personally, I found that a bit chilling, though it isn’t given great weight until later on.

MICHELLE: I sometimes forget, especially as the series progresses, that Hatori actually has the ability to erase memories. And yet that ability plays such a huge factor in his own personal tragedy—recounted in volume two—as well as Yuki’s childhood anguish. As the series goes on, he’s usually called forward to tend to physical injuries caused by Akito’s paranoid rage, but not to protect the family secret in that way.

Speaking of protecting the family secret, we eventually learn that Tohru was allowed to remain at Shigure’s house because Akito was desperate to prove that the bond between “God” and the cursed members of the Zodiac was real and strong, and not something that could be put into jeopardy by the presence of one girl. It’s an interesting perspective that shows all of Akito’s cryptic pronouncements about the tight family bond in a new light—no, this doesn’t make Akito any less unstable or dangerous, but now we know it wasn’t so much calculated menace as sheer terror of being left behind.

MJ: I think you’re right, and I feel like the series gets pretty much to the heart of things in terms of Akito’s motivations being out of fear just as much as anyone else’s. I think what makes the curse so insidious is the fact that it’s been passed down for generations, so nobody involved now is really making the rules. Akito’s ruling by and out of desperate fear because that’s what “God” is taught to do. The bond has been perpetuated so long and twisted so hard, generation after generation, it can’t possibly be okay for anyone. The zodiac animals get the bulk of our sympathy because Akito is the one who is in the position to inflict the most pain, but Akito’s running on a particular brand of terror and pain that belongs only to the one who must be “God.”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t have tons of sympathy for Akito. Regardless of what we’re handed, we still all make our own choices. But I think in Akito’s position, many of us would be too weak to be any better, and I’m not willing to claim with certainty that it could never have been me.

MICHELLE: That’s a great description of why the curse situation is so awful for everyone. Perhaps those most responsible for the misery of our characters are those who continue to place them on a pedestal because of their supposedly exalted status. We know the zodiac can’t help but feel drawn to Akito—there’s that memorable scene where Shigure and the others cluster around a pregnant Ren—but I wonder if they have the same effect on the rest of the family. Maybe the servants and extended family couldn’t help but revere them, but how much healthier it would’ve been for everyone involved if they were simply treated as ordinary people.

MJ: Ah, but there’s the thing, right? They can’t really be treated like ordinary people because they live in a world where ordinary people don’t transform into animals. This isn’t in the story at all, but when I’m thinking about how this all started, generations and generations ago, I’m imagining that the original Sohma members of the zodiac might have had to cultivate fear and awe in the other Sohmas in order to save themselves from persecution, even within the family.

Obviously in the universe of Fruits Basket, we’re meant to believe that the curse is a real thing and accept that as a supernatural force, but when you think about it, mankind has always dealt with the unknown by creating myth around it–usually myth based on fear and awe. So if we look at the Sohma’s curse in that light, it seems likely that those originally carrying the curse (and the people who loved them) might have done the same thing to protect themselves. Just a glimpse into Momiji’s life or Kyo’s gives us an idea of the way some members of the family react even with that protection in place.

MICHELLE: I see your point. I suppose I tend to personally downplay that aspect of the curse just because it seems that everything else that comes along with it is so much worse, but on a most fundamental level, it’s the transformation that truly cripples their ability to form relationships with outsiders and sometimes even their own families. (As a side note, I’d be interested to know where in the story (as in which volume) the characters stop transforming as a result of wacky hijinks. I’m thinking it’s pretty early on, actually.)

Momiji and Kyo are both rejected by their families because they are cursed, and that’s not something they’re ever going to be able to forget. Momiji at least seems to harbor no ill will towards his family, soldiering on to find his own happiness somewhere apart from them, but that doesn’t make it any less terrible. I’m grateful that Takaya gave us Hiro’s loving family as at least one example where one of the zodiac has been raised in an environment of warmth and love.

MJ: I think it is pretty early on that the wacky transformations disappear, and by the time we’re getting around to discovering things like Kyo’s true form, if they’d still been happening I think they would have seriously damaged the story. Though some of the later, softer transformations are favorite moments for me. Pretty much every time Momiji hugs Tohru, it’s the sweetest thing in the world (even when it’s very sad), and Tohru’s reaction to Hatori’s transformation will always be hilarious and charming.

MICHELLE: Momiji’s hugs are indeed both adorable and heartbreaking. He just wants to hug her so bad, he doesn’t even care what will happen as a result. I think, though, that I probably prefer older Momiji, whose method of choice for breaking hearts is his sad smile.

(I begin to think we could write a whole column about Momiji.)

MJ: I know I could!

(click images to enlarge)

So, I mentioned early on that there was one major issue I had with Fruits Basket when I first began reading the series, and that issue does persist throughout. While it’s always easy to talk about what we love in a column like this, it can be harder to bring up the things that we don’t. Do you have any caveats you would attach to this series?

MICHELLE: When you’ve loved something for as long as I have loved Fruits Basket, I think one starts to just accept all the less-awesome parts. So, no, there aren’t major issues or caveats I would attach to the series, though I have a feeling you’re going to point something out that’ll make me go, “Oh, yeah. That.”

There are definitely some minor things about the story that I think could’ve been handled better, though. As much as I am happy that Yuki found someone in Machi, for example, I can’t deny that she isn’t very developed as a character and reads much like (in David Welsh’s words) a “consolation prize.”

MJ: I was surprised at that, actually, when David first said it, because I’m incredibly fond of Machi, but when I thought about it, I realized that what really endeared me to her so emphatically was the fact that she bought Yuki a bag of fertilizer. It’s such a small thing, but with that one action, I completely fell for her as a character. In retrospect, I realize that may not actually constitute effective character development, but for some reason it spoke volumes to me when I first read the series.

MICHELLE: It at least shows that she knows how much Yuki’s hobby is important to him, and that he’s on her mind enough that when she happened to spot it in a store window, she thought of him.

MJ: I just thought, y’know, who would do that? Who buys someone a bag of fertilizer as a present? Then I realized the answer was, “Someone right for Yuki.”

MICHELLE: So, what is this major issue?

MJ: Ah, yes, my Issue. I had one major issue when I read the first volume of the manga, and that was Tohru’s utterly sincere declaration that marriage is every girl’s greatest dream. At the time, I hoped very much that one of the points Takaya intended to make with the story was to prove Tohru wrong on this, but alas, the entire series, and particularly the last few volumes, is dedicated to making sure this dream comes true for as many of her characters as possible.

Now, obviously this isn’t the most urgent statement the series is making, and I do think Takaya has a lot to say about human connection, the importance of acceptance, and a whole lot of other really worthwhile topics along those lines. But on this particular issue, she and I strongly disagree. In fact, I think the one other real issue I have with Fruits Basket is inextricably tied to this one. I’m bothered by the way Takaya so carefully heteronormatizes (can that be a word?) everyone at the last minute, as though any issues regarding gender and/or sexuality are just part of the dysfunction of the curse and can be cast off as easily as soiled robes the moment it is broken. It’s obvious, though, that this is done specifically to make sure that everyone can be paired off tidily to conform to the series’ matrimonial ideals.

As thoughtfully as Takaya explores so many aspects of identity and human relationships, and as much as I love this series, this is one area in which I really feel she fails me as a reader.

MICHELLE: I completely forgot that Tohru had made any such declaration. So while I obviously couldn’t help but notice “Gee, everyone is pairing off here at the end,” I didn’t tie it into reinforcement of matrimonial ideas so much as a shoujo-style idea of what a happy ending entails. Marmalade Boy does something similar, for example.

However, I admit that I did have a moment’s pause when Tohru agrees to go away with Kyo after graduation, saying, “I want to always be by your side,” which is essentially the same sort of thing I recently complained about in my review of Backstage Prince. The difference being, of course, that Tohru has expressed a desire to find a job and will likely (hopefully) do something with her life other than sit around and be a wife.

So, while I certainly can’t disagree that everyone ending up perfectly straight after exhibiting not-exactly-heterosexual behavior is kind of disappointing, I’d stop short of ascribing it all to “yay marriage.” Maybe it’s just “yay shoujo romance.”

MJ: Tohru’s declaration in the first volume struck me so hard, it was almost the only thing specific I had to say about the volume at the time, so it’s really impossible for me not to follow that thread to the end, but I can understand your interpretation. I would say, though, that reading the last volume, I did not get the impression that Tohru was intent on pursuing a job, and since the only information we’re given about her future is that she’s a very contented grandmother, I don’t think this was a priority for Takaya in terms of her storyline.

Tohru’s earlier talk about getting a job is focused entirely on her lack of other means with which to support herself, something which her friends are hoping she won’t have to do, as they eye up Yuki and Kyo as potential marriage prospects for her. So I would be surprised if that was really part of her future in the author’s eyes.

Moving on, though, let’s get back to the more pleasant pastime of discussing what we love! Michelle, do you have a favorite theme in Fruits Basket?

MICHELLE: I haven’t actually read that first volume since 2004, which was before I started reviewing, so my initial reaction to that line (which probably involved scoffing) is lost to the mists of time.

As for themes… Sometimes I feel like a broken record, but I do so love stories where someone finds where they belong. Essentially, that’s the entire theme of Fruits Basket, since the game from which the series derives its name involves children being selected based on the fruit name they’ve been assigned. In the beginning, this theme manifests as Tohru finding her place with the Sohma family, but later on, it starts to change, as the main characters start to embrace the freedom to choose their own paths for themselves. When they all finally start looking toward the future—planning their lives with genuine enthusiasm—it’s so simply triumphant for all of them that I find it really affecting.

MJ: That is one of the series’ nicest themes, though I think as someone who is still searching for this on some level (and maybe always will be), I suppose my personal reaction to it is somewhat angsty. I think my favorite theme is related, though, so overall we’re on the same page!

I am particularly fond of Takaya’s emphasis on self-acceptance and self-awareness in the series. Nearly every character in Fruits Basket is fixated on his or her own flaws (or perceived flaws), often to the point of finding someone else to blame for them. Kyo and Yuki of course are the poster boys for this, each blaming the other for being everything he thinks he should be or wants to be. And since the zodiac “bond” is primarily maintained through repeated application of shame, this is an issue that touches everyone. Even Tohru is not immune, as she obsesses over whether she’s being unfaithful to her mother’s memory.

I have a lot of reasons for connecting with this particular theme, but most of all, I think it’s one that Takaya handles particularly well, resorting to trite platitudes as little as possible.

And speaking of trite platitudes (or the lack thereof) I’d also like to mention how beautifully I think Takaya writes Tohru. It would be so easy for a character like that to fall into the worst kind of Pollyanna stereotype, and Takaya never lets this happen. She writes Tohru as a real character, and as a result, her healing influence on the Sohma family feels really genuine.

I once said in a review, “Few of us can claim to see the world through eyes as open, joyful, and compassionate as Tohru Honda’s, but the great appeal of Fruits Basket is in that it manages to make us believe we can, at least for an hour or so.” That’s really how I feel about Tohru, the way Takaya has written her.

MICHELLE: It definitely takes skill to write a character like Tohru and make her not only likeable, but realistic. Too often, characters are mad for a heroine who possesses no redeeming qualities to engender that devotion, but that’s absolutely not true here. We see, time and time again, exactly how much these characters need someone like Tohru in their lives, and even if they are resistent to her particular brand of optimism (like Rin, for example) they still value that a person like her is able to exist and are slowly healed by her proximity.

And yet, Tohru has demons of her own. It occurs to me that she has taught the Sohmas how to see beyond their pain and carry on with life, but it’s this very thing that she herself keeps doing when it would be better to stop and be selfish for a moment! So, they teach her something in return. By the end of the series, she’s prepared to accept that Kyo doesn’t love her, and has built herself up to smile when she next sees him again, but she’s finally confronted with something too meaningful to her to just give up on like that.

MJ: I think one of my favorite scenes near the end is that very moment you describe, when Tohru is released from the hospital and runs away from Kyo, because she realizes she can’t follow through with her resolve to smile when she sees him. Though I think perhaps I love even more her earlier declaration that if her mother did, indeed, tell Kyo she wouldn’t forgive him, she’d have to go against her. It’s the first time in the whole series that she really makes a choice for herself that isn’t motivated by the desire to please her mother, and that makes me very happy.

Of course, it’s just a bonus that we know this decision would have pleased her mother more than anything else in the world. But it’s meaningful that Tohru does not know that, and makes the decision anyway.

MICHELLE: I plan to talk about that very scene in further detail in this Saturday’s Let’s Get Visual column!

But yes, the decision to go against her mother is definitely a big moment, but I also appreciate her conviction later that Kyoko couldn’t have really meant that she wouldn’t forgive Kyo for letting her die. She believes it so, so strongly, so absolutely that I hope it convinces Kyo that she is right (as we indeed later see is the case).

Speaking of things that viewers are allowed to know but the characters don’t, I really appreciate that Takaya gives us a chapter (131) almost entirely devoted to the origins of the curse. It was supposed to be something created with bonds of love, but over time, people changed and the feeling of love was replaced by pain. The God who originally created it regrets all of that, but is also grateful to those who shouldered that exhausted promise for so long.

This nicely illustrates the fact that it’s impossible to make someone love you, and if you have to make them stay with you rather than allowing them personal choice, how is that worth anything at all? I wonder whether Akito’s change of heart was in any way fueled by a vague consciousness of the original God’s feelings.

MJ: That’s an interesting question, Michelle. I think I’d have to reread a few volumes again to see if I could come up with an answer.

And going back to Tohru’s best moments, I realized as I was thinking about this, that the moment I realized I really loved Tohru was when she physically pushes Akito away from Yuki in the school hallway, when she can see that Yuki’s in pain. Tohru’s a great character, and extremely likable from the start, but I think that’s when I became aware that I genuinely loved her. It’s a completely spontaneous reaction—hardly more than a reflex—that, on the surface, seems completely opposed to her natural gentleness, but that’s what makes it so great. It’s really the first time in the story we see the strength of her will demonstrated in this way, and it is awesome.

(click on images to enlarge)

Tohru’s action here reminds me somewhat of Orihime Inoue’s power to heal people by (essentially) mentally rejecting their injuries. She’s utterly rejecting Akito’s presence in Yuki’s world at that moment, because she just can’t accept that Yuki should feel that pain.

MICHELLE: Thinking about that scene gives me goosebumps, actually. Tohru really is possessed of extraordinary selfless determination, especially in her efforts to find a way to break the curse and free those whom she has come to love. No wonder Yuki sees her like a mother!

MJ: Speaking of that, I can’t help but be influenced by some of the entries we’ve seen for the MMF so far, especially David’s, and it’s been really interesting reading comments to his posts. One of the topics that’s come up a couple of times is the original love triangle between Tohru, Yuki, and Kyo. Obviously there’s a shift in the middle of the series, when Yuki becomes aware that it’s Kyo who Tohru is actually attracted to in a boyfriend kind of way, and of course right around that time, he’s got Akito telling him that he’s using Tohru as a mother figure.

There’s a lot of stuff there, and it’s fascinating to watch Yuki process everything and get to where he does by the end, but I was absolutely stunned to see someone say in comments to one of David’s posts that she never thought at any point in the series that Yuki was romantically interested in Tohru. Because wow, I certainly did. In fact, at the time, I considered his scene with Tohru at the end of volume ten to be a freakin’ confession! Whatever conclusions Yuki comes to later in the manga, it was clear (to me at least) that he believed himself to be in love with Tohru earlier on, and certainly that he was attracted to her—something he discusses at length later with Manabe. What’s your take on this?

MICHELLE: It’s rather difficult for me to remember exactly what I thought of the love triangle in early days, but I think I did believe that Yuki had romantic feelings for Tohru. Even so, and as much as I grew to love Yuki very much, I was always rooting for Kyo and Tohru to get together. Maybe even then I sensed that there was something different about Yuki’s feelings for her.

Regarding the new spin Yuki’s conversation with Manabe puts on some of the more romantic-seeming moments (in essence, that he was actively trying to summon romantic feelings)… I have to wonder how much of this was planned from the start, or if it’s some kind of retcon. The same holds true with Kyo’s initial meeting of Tohru. Did Takaya plan from the start that Kyo was experiencing everything that took place while already knowing full well who Tohru was? Did she plan that Yuki was just faking it? It’ll be strange/interesting to go back and reread the series from the beginning and see whether there’s any evidence one way or the other.

MJ: Actually, I’ve reread most of the series over the past week, and I’d say that it reads to me as genuinely planned, in both cases. Kyo has some really uncomfortable moments early on with Tohru that are very revealing on a second read. I have no doubt that was planned from the start, rereading it now.

And while it’s perhaps not quite as obvious early on that Yuki might be confused about his feelings for Tohru, reading it all right alongside his conversation with Manabe, it feels true. I think what really sells that for me is Yuki’s deliberate use of his “prince” manners when he’s making the moves on Tohru. Like, he knows how he’s supposed to act to make a girl’s heart flutter, so he puts that into motion. But we all know that’s actually not his personality at all. In those moments, he’s playing a part, just like he does at school during the first half of the series. If it’s retcon, it’s really good retcon, because you can’t tell at all.

It helps that I think he’s genuinely confused in those moments. I mean, it’s not as if he doesn’t love Tohru or doesn’t find her attractive. He does, and that’s what makes it so hard for him to sort out what it all means. And I would even go so far as to say that, regardless of the fact that he was looking for a mother in her, he probably was a little in love with her as well. These kinds of feelings are not so cut-and-dried. After all, it’s not as if she’s actually his mother.

Now, off-canon here, keeping in mind that I’m not really a believer in the idea that there’s just one perfect person for everyone, personally, I think there’s every chance that Yuki could have ended up with Tohru, had Kyo not been in the picture. It might not have been the same kind of relationship in some ways, and maybe there would be more of a contented, domestic vibe than a super-passionate one, but had Kyo not been there, it seems likely to me that Tohru and Yuki might have fallen in love in their own way (like they maybe already did, though it was eclipsed by Tohru’s feelings for Kyo) and ended up being very happy together. That’s not the story Takaya was telling, obviously, but I think it could have been, given the characters she created.

MICHELLE: I am so relieved to hear that. So many other aspects of the series have been exquisitely planned, I suppose I should have had faith. And that’s an excellent point in regards to Yuki’s adoption of princely manners and how that equates to playing a part. Maybe that was what I was picking up on when I just couldn’t really believe that they ought to end up together.

If Kyo hadn’t been there and if Yuki had been able to be his real self around Tohru, then yes, I suppose I think it’s possible they could’ve ended up together. But then she might’ve just as easily wound up with Momiji! (See how it always comes back around to Momiji?)

MJ: As well it should! Regardless of the fact that I was pretty invested in Tohru and Kyo’s romantic relationship by the end, I could have been deliriously happy had the plot suddenly shifted to Tohru/Momiji! I really do adore Momiji. I’d like to read a sequel to the series that continues on with his story.

MICHELLE: Me, too. But only if it’s, like, a string of just really awesome things that happen to him.

Speaking of follow-ups to Fruits Basket, I am honestly baffled that Takaya’s Twinkle Stars (complete in Japan in eleven volumes) has not been licensed here. I’ve read the first two volumes in English and the third in French and, okay, it’s not Fruits Basket in terms of epic scope, but it’s still plenty interesting, with a heroine who tries to be cheerful despite the massive amounts of darkness she’s already experienced in her life.

MJ: I’d certainly read it, if it’s even half as compelling as Fruits Basket.

MICHELLE: Well, hopefully we will all get the opportunity to read it in a no-importation-required kind of way in the near future. Takaya’s also recently begun Liselotte to Majo no Mori, which I don’t know much about (only a couple of chapters have been published so far) but man, does it ever look gorgeous. Behold:

MJ: Gorgeous, indeed!

Any final thoughts about Fruits Basket?

MICHELLE: Don’t be fooled by first impressions. Fruits Basket is amazing, and pretty much required reading as far as I’m concerned.

MJ: Well said, Michelle! I wholeheartedly agree.

MMF: Wild Adapter Roundup the Last

June 26, 2011 by Michelle Smith 3 Comments

Sadly, it’s time to bid farewell to the Wild Adapter MMF. But we’re not going down without a few final submissions!

First up is Jason S. Yadao at the Honolulu Star Advertiser, who writes in his Otaku Ohana column about his decision several years ago to pass on Wild Adapter and his newfound regard for the series. “It’s definitely worth tracking down, though. Take it from the guy who took four years to get it—both in the “have them physically in my hands” sense and the “ahhh, now I understand what the appeal is” sense.”

At my blog, Soliloquy in Blue, MJand I devote our monthly Let’s Get Visual column to Wild Adapter, specifically the tricks Minekura uses to control access to Kubota’s thoughts and to create a snug and private moment for her characters to inhabit.

Justin Stroman reviews the first two volumes of the series for Organization Anti Social Geniuses. He didn’t care much for the prologue aspect of volume one (I believe his exact words are “meh”), but the characters and pacing won him over in volume two.

Lastly, Anna at Manga Report provides the second Saiyuki reread post of the Feast (though she has reviewed Wild Adapter in the past), and compliments several aspects of Minekura’s storytelling that also apply to Wild Adapter. She also notes, “I’m not even sure if this manga ever actually ended, because it seems to spawn any number of sequel and prequel series. But the point of Saiyuki is the journey, not the destination.”

MICHELLE: A lot of good stuff there, eh, MJ?

MJ: Yes, there really is. I’m especially pleased to see some participation from readers who are new to the series here at the end. If there’s one outcome I’d hope for from all this, it would be that a few more readers might spend some time reading this month’s contributions and take a chance on the series themselves.

MICHELLE: That would be nice! Lousy series generally don’t get chosen for the MMF, after all.

MJ: Indeed! Many thanks to everyone who participated in this month’s Feast, especially our battle robot cohort David Welsh, who went over and above this past week on behalf of Wild Adapter.

And speaking of both David and non-lousy series, shall we take a moment to introduce next month’s Feast?

MICHELLE: Let’s do. David will be hosting a Fruits Basket MMF at his blog, Manga Curmudgeon, the week of July 24-30. Fruits Basket is a series that requires little introduction, but it has the distinction of being something that’s both very popular and very good. If you’re interested in participating, watch David’s blog for announcements!

MJ: Aaaaand, that’s a wrap! Thanks, everyone!

MICHELLE: Don’t forget to tip your waitress.

The complete archive of the Wild Adapter MMF can be found here.

MMF: Wild Adapter Roundup the Third

June 24, 2011 by Michelle Smith 1 Comment

Hey, have you noticed there’s a Wild Adapter MMF going on? Just thought I’d mention it…

The fun continues this morning with five new entries! First up is David Welsh at the Manga Curmudgeon, who has devoted his Friday License Request column to “more Minekura,” specifically the two-volume Executive Committee, which features the protagonists from Wild Adapter in a school comedy. Also, did you know Minekura’s one-volume Bus Gamer was published in English? I did not! A copy is now on its way to me, which means David has convinced me to spend money yet again.

Next, in her Fanservice Friday column, Manga Bookshelf’s MJ takes a look at how the casual yet intimate touching in Wild Adapter embodies the fan service that most appeals to her. Her post includes many lovely and loving images, including the one shown here.

Over at Manga Xanadu, Lori Henderson revisits the first three volumes of another Kazuya Minekura series, Saiyuki, and concludes “It’s really just a lot of fun, which is exactly how I want my manga to be.”

At Experiments in Manga, Ash Brown makes her second contribution to the MMF, this time in the form of a review for volume one.

Lastly, Chou Jones contributes a special feature to Manga Bookshelf about the themes present in Wild Adapter. I particularly like this segment, which is just more evidence of Minekura subverting expectations:

But contrary to common genre tropes, Wild Adapter isn’t a story about how Tokito’s innocence and decency save Kubota from himself. Kubota is himself from start to finish. If there’s saving going on, it’s mostly the kind couples do for each other in real life: providing each other support, making up for each other’s weaknesses, having a place to come home to. Amidst the trappings of action-adventure, Kubota and Tokito’s relationship is reassuringly slice-of-life.

If you’d like to participate in the Manga Moveable Feast, see this post for instructions. If you haven’t got a blog of your own, let us know and we’ll post it for you. A complete archive for the Wild Adapter MMF can be found here.

Fanservice Friday: The Human Touch

June 24, 2011 by MJ 11 Comments

A few months ago, I dedicated this column to something I called “intimacy porn,” a kind of emotionally grounded writing that creates a strong sense of intimacy between characters. One of the examples of “intimacy porn” I cited at the time was Kazuya Minekura’s Wild Adapter, the subject of this month’s Manga Moveable Feast, hosted right here at Manga Bookshelf.

As it happens, Kazuya Minekura is a master of this type of writing, and as a result, Wild Adapter is lousy with intimacy porn. Really, it’s just all over the place. Minekura has number of ways she achieves this, but my favorite is probably the simplest: the casual touch.

You know the kind of touch I mean—that little nothing of a touch that somehow means everything, the brush of the hand, the tug on the sleeve that so clearly signals protectiveness, intimacy, and a strong hint of possession. While this is often used in romantic manga to indicate a controlling party—usually the male in a heterosexual romantic relationship—Minekura makes her characters each equally possessive of the other, creating a universe of two that is glorious to behold.

In Wild Adapter the casual touch is almost exclusively the territory of its protagonists, Kubota and Tokito, whose relationship is in some ways fairly ambiguous, but in one way perfectly clear. Whatever they are precisely to each other, they are with their whole hearts, and nobody else is even remotely a factor.

In volume two, a woman observes to Kubota, “Since the first time I met you two, I thought Tokito was weird. I wondered why he was so possessive of Kubota-san. But the truth is… you’re the one who is.”

As it turns out, she was right both times. Both Kubota and Tokito see their relationship in this way, and it’s obvious even in the simplest of touches. Even a humorous scene is filled with these moments, and it’s interesting to note that there isn’t much difference between casual leaning and a kick to the head in terms of effect. Both these movements reveal intimacy.

Sometimes the touch is less casual, but still private, creating intimacy in an unlikely setting. In this scene for instance, Kubota and Tokito aren’t particularly casual at all, to start. Kubota’s displaying protectiveness, sure, but there’s a sense of urgency with Tokito not at his best, and that’s the tone the scene opens with. Just a bit later, though, our attention is drawn to just their hands—one gloved, one not—and emotional the core of the scene becomes centered there, on fingers squeezing fingers, a tiny thing that nobody would take notice of in the cold, vast environment of the hospital. Kubota’s possessive arm around the shoulder later doesn’t hurt either.

What’s perhaps most interesting about the casual touches in this manga, is that though Minekura uses them liberally throughout the first four volumes, when the story flashes back to Kubota and Tokito’s first year together, we discover that for a long, long time Kubota would not touch Tokito at all (their earlier moments notwithstanding). Of course what this really facilitates is the opportunity for a beautifully intimate scene like this near the end of the chapter, when Tokito finally offers his hand to Kubota and insists that he take it.

(click images to enlarge)

To a random onlooker, this might appear so casual as to not even register at all. Offering a hand to help someone up is a gesture of friendliness, certainly, but not usually one of intimacy. In reality, this hand offered is as far from casual as it could possibly be, and perhaps more intimate than a kiss in that moment.

Of course, sometimes the best touching is not remotely casual. In romantic manga, even one as ambiguous about it as this one, there’s really nothing that can top that heart-stopping moment of intimacy that bursts from something casual into something profound. In this kind of moment, with this kind of touch, the whole world falls away for that long, long moment—their world, our world, the entire universe even—stunned into an endless second of suspended animation by the power of human touch.

When I started this column, “Fanservice Friday,” I wasn’t really sure what I planned to do with it. “Fanservice” is a term generally imbued with negative connotations, used mainly as an expression of derision or at least complaint over elements inserted into a work for the sole purpose of titillation. “Fanservice” is most commonly used to describe something exploitative, pandering, and possibly offensive. At best it’s a term infused with self-mocking.

Over time, what the term has come to mean for me however, is something a bit broader.

As someone whose attention is grabbed more often by emotional hooks than visual ones (despite my slight obsession with coats and sleeves) I’ve discovered the reality behind what services me as a fan.

For me, a single image like the one to the right is about a thousand times more titillating than a chapter full of suggestively clad hotties or even outright pornography. The hunch of the shoulder, the protectively placed hand, the comfort and familiarity filling the frame—this intimate atmosphere is what fills me with longing and a desire to see my fantasy played out on the page.

This is my fanservice. Thanks, Wild Adapter.

No Us and Them: Theme in Wild Adapter

June 24, 2011 by Chou Jones 6 Comments

I admit it—I’m a theme geek. I like a tight plot, complex characters, gorgeous art, an immersive atmosphere and all the other elements that make up a good manga as much as the next fan. But what really makes or breaks a story for me is how well the author handles her theme.

Kazuya Minekura is a theme-heavy writer, so I always enjoy her manga. But Wild Adapter is special—a mature, beautifully-crafted series where each individual volume is both a unique whole and a reiteration of the same thematic elements woven from a different character’s perspective but held together using similar threads.

The basic pattern for each volume is simple. Minekura introduces us to the ex-yakuza Makoto Kubota, one of the story’s two protagonists. She lets us know he’s obtrusively not one of us—a stylishly cool, taciturn, amoral killer with almost no connection to the world of humanity or the vast majority of the people who live in it.

And then through the perspective of the secondary characters, she makes him “us” after all—supported and supporting, interdependent, forgivable. And in doing so, she makes the secondary characters—drug addicts, teenage mothers, lonely kids, semi-corrupt cops—all of them stand-ins for the audience in our vast array of imperfection, into a comfortingly forgivable common mass of “us” too.

(click images to enlarge)

Wild Adapter is especially beautiful because Minekura is strong enough to not make compromises with her theme. She never minimizes Kubota’s violence, never pretends he has values he doesn’t, never makes him suddenly and unrealistically “good.” And yet she never distances herself from him either. You can tell how much she likes him, and how much, in general, the other characters like and trust him too—not in spite of his faults, but because in being with him, they recognize themselves.

Genre-straddling notwithstanding, Wild Adapter is a love story. So the places Kubota is most convincingly “us” are in relation to Minoru Tokito, the amnesic “stray cat” he picks up off the street. As is often the case in manga about love, Tokito is Kubota’s compliment—comparatively innocent, easily engaged, outspoken, sincere—basically a nice if somewhat troubled kid.

But contrary to common genre tropes, Wild Adapter isn’t a story about how Tokito’s innocence and decency save Kubota from himself. Kubota is himself from start to finish. If there’s saving going on, it’s mostly the kind couples do for each other in real life; providing each other support, making up for each other’s weaknesses, having a place to come home to. Amidst the trappings of action-adventure, Kubota and Tokito’s relationship is reassuringly slice-of-life.

Where the saving is more than just the usual things everyone does for each other though, both Tokito and Kubota are smart enough to understand it’s mutual. In a genre that notoriously splits partners into unrealistic, stiffly-defined roles, Tokito is refreshingly insistent on their joint responsibility for the relationship. True, there is some “I’m this and you’re that.” Tokito is not afraid to complain. But when push comes to shove, there’s only “we’re this together.”

That’s Akimi Yoshida‘s Banana Fish on the right-hand side of the picture above, but I pick on it only because I read it fairly recently and so can still remember which volume the example I wanted was in. There are equally good examples in plenty of other manga too. From shounen to BL, it’s one of manga’s most common tropes: You’re bad but I care about you anyway.

Tokito, and through him Minekura, never engage in it. Japanese tends to encourage inclusion through vagueness, but Tokito is outspoken and concrete: “We’re monsters,” “We killed so many people,” “Everything that belongs to Kubo-chan also belongs to me.” Even their names include each other. Kubota’s name has protect and field in it; Tokito’s includes assignment/charge and ripen.

And Kobota’s name includes everyone else as well; his personal name, Makoto, is made up of truth and person, “what people really are.”

Reviews often note that Wild Adapter is a deceptively light read. It feels like a guilty pleasure, and you only notice afterwards that it’s actually skillful, well-crafted writing. There are no doubt many reasons the series functions that way; after all, it really is just plain good writing.

But I think in the end, one of the major reasons is how perfectly integrated every piece of the story is to its theme. It truly does feel light to have a few hours in which no judgment is necessary or expected, truly is a pleasure to have someone assure us we’re all in it together.

MMF: Wild Adapter Roundup the Second

June 23, 2011 by Michelle Smith 7 Comments

The celebration of Kazuya Minekura’s brilliant Wild Adapter continues!

At Experiments in Manga, Ash Brown considers how Kubota’s skill at majhong reflects his overall personality. Here’s a particularly insightful quote:

While on the surface mahjong may at first appear to be mostly about luck, there is actually a huge amount of strategy involved, especially as players become more skilled. In many ways, you have to make your own luck. Mahjong requires mental flexibility, the willingness to change strategies, quick thinking, and the ability to make accurate deductions from limited information.

Sounds like Kubota to me!

At The Manga Curmudgeon, David Welsh reposts a Flipped column on Wild Adapter that, unlike other old reviews, does not inspire the urge for a rewrite.

And here at home, MJ devotes her Three Things Thursday column to guilty pleasures in Wild Adapter that aren’t so guilty after all. I’m quite fond of her closing comment:

So while I am certainly adamant that non-fans of BL should give Wild Adapter a try, that’s not because the story isn’t BL. They should read it because it’s really good BL, and people should know what that looks like.

3 Things Thursday: Wild Adapter

June 23, 2011 by MJ 9 Comments

One of my favorite quotes so far from this month’s Manga Moveable Feast comes from David Welsh, as he describes why Wild Adapter is, in his words, “bathtub manga.” “Well,” he says, “it’s partly because, empirically good and ambitious as Wild Adapter is, it doesn’t wear its quality on its sleeve. It gives you the opportunity to believe that you’re indulging in a guilty pleasure, even though you’re actually seeing a spectacular piece of craftsmanship.”

David has a habit of writing brilliant things I wish I’d come up with myself, and this observation definitely belongs in that category. He’s absolutely right. One of the things that makes Wild Adapter so enjoyable to read is that it creates a sense of decadent self-indulgence while actually delivering Damn Good Comics. As a result, the experience is completely satisfying, even after the initial glow of frivolity has passed.

With this in mind, I give you this week’s 3 Things…

3 guilty pleasures in Wild Adapter that aren’t so “guilty” after all:

1. Cracktastic plotting. An emotionally detached youth is drawn into the yakuza, only to become unintentionally involved with a mysterious drug that turns its users into mad, hairy beasts, ultimately leading him to adopt a part-man, part-beast to whom he becomes deeply (but ambiguously) attached. Later, the two of them accidentally fight crime. Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? And yeah, it totally is. Thing is, all the craziness is so firmly rooted in emotional truth that it somehow actually works. What should be completely unbelievable becomes fantastically believable, leaving readers free to ride high on the adrenaline created by its outrageous, violent adventure, without worrying about a painful crash later on. Minekura writes crazy, but she’s solid to the core, and so is Wild Adapter.

2. Stunning sensuality. Despite this series’ fairly minimal sexual content, it is one seriously sexy manga. I mean, really, really sexy, and that’s not a characteristic I’d attribute to many series, including those that contain a lot of nudity and/or sex. Most deliberately sexy manga are hardly sexy at all, at least in my experience. Of course, what’s sexy about Wild Adapter isn’t actually the sex at all, most of which amounts to small-time crooks getting it on with women they had to pay, or skeevy yakuza bosses coercing their underlings into special service. None of that is what makes this series so sexy, and that’s part why its sensuality maintains itself so well. Minekura creates her manga’s super-sexy aura with superb characterization and an incredible sense of style, without having to rely on less reliable elements like revealing clothing or heavy bedroom action.

3. Boys’ love. Good romance is incredibly difficult to write (with or without explicit sex involved), and though there is plenty of good romance available in the English-language BL market, it’s also full to overflowing with examples of all the ways in which romantic fiction can fail. As a result, it’s a genre that gets little respect among critics, even those who recognize the the real worth of romantic fiction. It’s telling, I think, that TOKYOPOP chose to release Wild Adapter as part of their mainstream line of manga, rather than on their BL imprint, BLU. On one hand, this decision makes good business sense and reflects Wild Adapter‘s wide appeal. On the other, it clearly demonstrates that while TOKYOPOP may have believed that non-BL fans might buy Wild Adapter, they did not for a moment believe that they would buy it with a BL label.

In yesterday’s roundtable, Michelle, David, and I spent some time discussing the ways in which Wild Adapter does and does not conform to common BL tropes. And while it’s true that the series lacks many of the elements that frequently characterize “BL,” what it doesn’t lack is actually the thing I read BL for in the first place, and that would be love between boys. Though Wild Adapter does not contain the worst of the BL genre, it does contain the best, and both Minekura and the genre deserve credit for that. So while I am certainly adamant that non-fans of BL should give Wild Adapter a try, that’s not because the story isn’t BL. They should read it because it’s really good BL, and people should know what that looks like.

Readers, got any “guilty pleasures” that really aren’t guilty at all?

MMF: Wild Adapter Roundup the First

June 22, 2011 by Michelle Smith Leave a Comment

The Wild Adapter MMF has begun, and the posts are beginning to trickle in.

Over at AnimeMiz’s Scribblings, Linda shares her impressions of the first volume, ultimately deciding to try again another day.

At Manga Curmudgeon, David Welsh dubs Wild Adapter “bathtub manga,” and lists the qualifications for that position as well as some other series (like NANA and Antique Bakery) that meet the requirements. Have bathtub manga of your own? David has provided a forum for confession.

Lissa Patillo of Kuriousity devotes the inaugural post of a brand-new feature, Cover Watch, to the first volume of Wild Adapter. It’s a nifty read, and as a fellow fan of cover-gazing, I look forward to more entries in the series!

Lastly, MJand I devote our monthly BL Bookrack column to a Wild Adapter roundtable, where we are joined by David Welsh. Topics include our favorite aspects of the story, how it is and isn’t like typical BL, and whether the fact that it’s unfinished should be a deterrent to checking it out (spoiler: no).

If you’d like to participate, see this post for instructions. If you haven’t got a blog of your own, let us know and we’ll post it for you. A complete archive for the Wild Adapter MMF can be found here.