Novels

Gene Mapper

June 27, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Taiyo Fujii
Translator: Jim Hubbert
U.S. publisher: Viz Media
ISBN: 9781421580272
Released: June 2015
Original release: 2013

Gene Mapper is Taiyo Fujii’s debut work as an author. Originally, he was employed in design and software development, a background that to some extent informs Gene Mapper. In 2012, he self-published the novel as an ebook and it became a bestseller, catching the attention of Hayakawa Publishing, a major Japanese publisher of science fiction. Fujii subsequently expanded and revised Gene Mapper for release by Hayakawa in 2013. It was this edition of Gene Mapper that became the basis for Jim Hubbert’s English translation of the novel released by Viz Media’s speculative fiction imprint Haikasoru in 2015. In addition to being a bestseller, Gene Mapper has also been critically well-received. Although ultimately the novel didn’t win, Gene Mapper was nominated for both a Seiun Award and a Nihon SF Taisho Award (which Fujii would later earn for his second novel Orbital Cloud). I was thus very happy to have the opportunity to read an early review copy of Gene Mapper.

Mamoru Hayashida is a gene mapper specializing in style sheets for color expression and design. Although he works as a freelancer, many of his recent projects have been for L&B, one of the leaders in distilled crops, a science in which plants have been designed from their DNA up to produce bountiful harvests with high nutritional value that are resistant to disease and pests. The problem of world hunger has been solved because of distilled crops, but there continue to be people who are skeptical of these synthetic creations, believing them to be unnatural, unethical, and unsafe. When SR06, an advanced strain of Super Rice that Hayashida helped to design, begins to inexplicably mutate, it seems as though those criticisms may be justified. In order to investigate and hopefully put a stop to the impending crisis before the media and the rest of the world finds out about it, Hayashida is first sent to Ho Chi Minh City to hire Yagodo, an expert Internet salvager, and then to the SR06 fields in Cambodia along with his agent Kurokawa. It’s only after they are there that they discover just how dire, and dangerous, the situation really is.

Gene Mapper falls into the category of realistic near future science fiction and it is an excellent example of that subgenre. A few elements initially drew me to the novel, specifically the developments and applications of new agricultural and biotechnologies, but the more I read the more I found to capture my interest, such as the implications of the collapse of the Internet (an event that occurred before the beginning of the story proper) and the prevalent use of augmented realities of varying types. Some of those new technologies and systems are unnecessarily over-explained towards the beginning of the novel, bogging down the story, but soon the details become better integrated into the narrative and Gene Mapper begins moving along quite quickly. Although human society in Gene Mapper is still believably imperfect, Fujii’s vision of the future and the role of technology in it is largely a positive and optimistic one. While the potential for technological developments to be used for great harm is a recognized concern in the novel, those same advancements are also shown have the potential to be used to greatly benefit humanity. The tension between those two possibilities is one of the driving forces behind the novel.

What makes Gene Mapper such a thought-provoking and engaging work is the importance placed by Fujii on technology and science and how people interact with them. The novel’s exploration of the tremendous potential presented by new technologies as well as it’s examination of related concerns and fears is extremely relevant to issues being discussed even today. I grew up in a farming community and so am well aware of the debates and controversies surrounding the use of genetically modified crops and other advanced agricultural technologies. Gene Mapper presents one plausible future based on logical extensions of current genetic, agricultural, and information technologies without ignoring the dangers that they present or how they impact society in both positive and negative ways. Just as in reality, scientific advances in Gene Mapper don’t exist in a vacuum. There are personal and societal interests as well as business and commercial interests at work in the direction that the future will take. Missteps have been and will be made, but innovations will continue as long as humanity is able to survive them. Gene Mapper argues that in time solutions will be found to old problems and new challenges will arise as a result.

Thank you to Viz Media for providing a copy of Gene Mapper for review.

The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Vol. 1

June 19, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Satoshi Wagahara
Illustrator: 029
Translator: Kevin Gifford
U.S. publisher: Yen Press
ISBN: 9780316383127
Released: April 2015
Original release: 2011
Awards: Dengeki Novel Prize

The Devil Is a Part-Timer! began in 2011 as a light novel series written by Satoshi Wagahara with illustrations by 029, but it has since expanded to include an anime adaptation and multiple manga series as well. I was actually introduced to The Devil Is a Part-Timer! through the 2013 anime series directed by Naoto Hosoda. I rather enjoyed it and so when Yen Press licensed not only the manga but the orignal light novel series of The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, it caught my attention. I was particularly interested in reading the anime’s source material, currently an ongoing series of novels at fourteen volumes in Japan. The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Volume 1, which earned Wagahara a Silver Dengeki Novel Prize, was released in English in 2015 under Yen Press’ new light novel imprint Yen On with a translation by Kevin Gifford. The volume also includes color pages and an end-of-book bonus—character files in the form of a collection of resumes.

Satan, the Devil King, had one simple goal: to conquer Ente Isla and subjugate the humans there who manage to survive the invasion of his forces. All was going well until the Hero made her appearance on the battlefield. Emilia throws the Devil King’s plans into disarray and Satan is forced to make a hasty retreat along with Alciel, his strategist and one of the Four Great Demon Generals. Unintentionally, they end up in the parallel world of modern-day Japan with no immediate way back to Ente Isla. Emilia isn’t far behind them, which only causes another set of problems to deal with. Until they can return to their own world, Satan, now known as Maou, and Alciel, now known as Ashiya, must survive in this one as humans with very little access to their demonic powers. But then Maou secures a job as a part-timer at a fast food joint. He’s convinced that this will be the first step in conquering Japan, the world, and (assuming they can figure out how to get home) Ente Isla.

The first volume of The Devil Is a Part-Timer! and at least some if not all of the second were adapted as part of the anime series, so there were no real surprises for me plot-wise reading it. The novel does include a few more worldbuilding and character details, but for the most part the anime was a very straightforward, routine interpretation of Wagahara’s orignal story. The writing in The Devil Is a Part-Timer! isn’t particularly flashy, stylish, or clever—it’s more functional than anything else—but all of the characters have their own ways of speaking and expressing themselves. It’s immediately apparent who’s responsible for any given line of dialogue because they each have a unique, individual voice. As for the plot, it’s intentionally ridiculous and absurd, which to some extent is what makes The Devil Is a Part-Timer! entertaining. Admittedly, it sometimes doesn’t make a whole lot of logical sense, and there seem to be a few potential plot holes left for Wagahara to address as well, but the novel can still be legitimately fun. High literature it certainly isn’t, though, something that both Wagahara and the characters are well-aware of; the story developments in The Devil Is a Part-Timer!, Volume 1 are repeatedly compared to those of a B movie.

Very little of The Devil Is a Part Timer!, Volume 1 has much to do with magic or mayhem. Eventually Wagahara builds up to it for the volume’s finale, but for the most part the novel is surprisingly mundane. In the end, the crises that Maou is most concerned about is the possibility of being late for work. It seems likely that Maou and Ashiya’s personalities have significantly changed along with the changes in their physical forms. But then the humor in The Devil Is a Part-Timer! is largely derived from the characters being not at all who one would assume them to be and behaving in ways that are stunningly ordinary, especially considering their epic origins. Occasionally they do recall their quests—the demons’ goal to take over Ente Isla and Emilia’s desire to destroy Satan and his cohorts—but overall Maou appears to be content in his new-found work, Ashiya has come to accept his role of househusband, and even Emi has made a nice life for herself in Japan. Ultimately that’s what makes The Devil Is a Part-Timer so amusing, the complete mismatch between the characters as they are and the expectations of who they should be.

Red Girls: The Legend of the Akakuchibas

May 30, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Kazuki Sakuraba
Translator: Jocelyne Allen
U.S. publisher: Viz Media
ISBN: 9781421578576
Released: April 2015
Original release: 2006
Awards: Mystery Writers of Japan Award

Kazuki Sakuraba is probably most well-known as the creator of Gosick, a series of light novels which would later be adapted as a manga series, an audio drama, and an anime series. Two of those novels were released in English by Tokyopop. After her success with Gosick, Sakuraba would go on to write and publish mainstream novels and essays as well, several of which would earn her awards and nominations for her work. Red Girls: The Legend of the Akakuchibas is one of those novels. Originally published in Japan in 2006, Red Girls won the Mystery Writers of Japan Award in 2007. That fact caught my attention as I have thoroughly enjoyed other novels that have won that particular award, as did the striking cover design of the English-language edition of Red Girls. The novel was released in English in 2015 by Viz Media’s speculative fiction imprint Haikasoru with a translation by Jocelyne Allen. Although Red Girls is the third novel by Sakuraba to have been translated, it was actually the first one that I read and was my introduction to her work as a whole.

For a time, the village of Benimidori, found in the western reaches of Japan’s Tottori Prefecture, was largely controlled by two rival families: the Akakuchibas, known as “red above” and who operated a steelworks factory, and the Kurobishis, known as “black below” and who were prosperous shipbuilders. While the Kurobishis were nouveau riche, the Akakuchibas were an old, upstanding family, and so quite a stir was caused when a young mountain girl who had been abandoned in the village was selected to marry the family’s heir. That was Manyo, a clairvoyant whose ability to see the future would help guide the family through a number of crises, including the tragic death of her firstborn son. The responsibility to carry on the Akakuchiba name then fell to her daughter Kemari, a wild young woman who would also die young, leaving behind a daughter of her own. By all appearances, Toko, unlike her mother or grandmother, seems to be an ordinary girl, but she is the only person to whom Manyo confessed a closely kept secret—she once killed someone.

Red Girls is divided into three parts, each one respectively devoted to the retelling of the lives and legends of Manyo, Kemari, and Toko. Eventually it is revealed that Toko is the novel’s narrator, recording the stories that she has been told by and about her mother and grandmother in an attempt to identify the person whose death Manyo claims to be responsible for. People associated with the Akakuchibas have a tendency to die in unexpected or peculiar ways, and so Toko knows of several individuals who could have been potential victims. As with any family story passed on from one generation to the next, there is a certain amount of fiction and embellishment that is added to the retelling of events. As she investigates the unusual circumstances involved in the various deaths, Toko must also closely reevaluate everything that she has been told about her family, teasing apart the stories in order to determine what exactly is the truth, what has been exaggerated, and what details continue to remain hidden and unsaid.

In addition to providing an intriguing mystery that Toko feels compelled to unravel, the narrative found in Red Girls serves another, very important purpose. It is a way for Toko to come to terms with the history of the Akakuchiba family and her position within it, allowing her to take her place in a line of powerful matriarchs. It’s not something that she is initially prepared to do, feeling inadequate when compared to her grandmother and mother and their various accomplishments. Red Girls also situates the legend of the Akakuchibas—and a legend it is, full of peculiar and fantastical elements—within the greater context of Japan’s economic and social histories. As Japan changes over time, so must the Akakuchiba family and its members, and so must the way they think about themselves, their relationships, and their stories. Red Girls is a tremendous multi-generational epic, sometimes strange and sometimes mysterious, but always engaging and oddly compelling. I enjoyed the novel immensely.

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass

May 10, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Lewis Carroll
Illustrator: Kriss Sison
U.S. publisher: Seven Seas
ISBN: 9781626920613
Released: August 2014
Original release: 1865, 1871

Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There are two well-loved, oft-adapted, and extremely influential novels written by Lewis Carroll, the pseudonym of English author Charles Lutwidge, in 1865 and 1871 respectively. I was initially a little surprised when Seven Seas announced that it would be publishing a newly illustrated omnibus edition of the novels in 2014, especially as the company had moved away from publishing prose works in recent years in order to focus on manga and other comics. However, the novels do nicely complement Seven Seas’ releases of the various Alice in the Country of manga. What makes Seven Seas’ edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass stand out from others are the incredibly cute and charming manga-influenced illustrations by Kriss Sison, an International Manga Award-winning artist from the Philippines. In addition to a gallery of color artwork, hundreds of black-and-white illustrations can be found throughout the volume.

Alice was enjoying a leisurely afternoon on a riverbank with her older sister when a very curious thing happened—a rabbit with a pocket watch hurries by talking to itself. When Alice follows after it she tumbles down a rabbit hole to find herself in a very strange place indeed. What else is there to do for an inquisitive and adventurous young girl but to go exploring? And so she does. As Alice wanders about she discovers food and drink that cause her to grow and shrink, animals of all sizes and shapes that can talk, and people who have very peculiar ways of thinking about and approaching life. Eventually she returns home to her sister, but several months later she finds herself once again slipping into a fantastical world when she crawls through the mirror above a fireplace mantel. Of course, Alice immediately sets off exploring, encountering even more strange and wondrous things and meeting all sorts of new and perplexing people.

Despite already being familiar with the story of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass (mostly through the seemingly infinite number of adaptations and otherwise Alice-inspired works) and despite having been encouraged for years by devotees of Carroll’s writings, I had never actually read the original novels for myself until I picked up Seven Seas’ edition. I’m really somewhat astonished that it took me so long to do so and it truly is a shame that I didn’t get around to it sooner. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass is absolutely marvelous and an utter joy to read. It’s easy to see why the novels have been treasured and continue to be treasured by so many people for well over a century. The books are incredibly imaginative and delightfully clever. Carroll liberally employs puns and other wordplay, turning nonsense into logic and vice versa. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass has been translated into something like seventy different languages; though certainly worthwhile, I can’t imagine these interpretations were easy to accomplish due to the novels’ linguistic complexities.

What particularly impresses me about Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass are the novels’ broad appeal. Both children and adults can easily enjoy the works. Younger readers will likely be amused and drawn to their silliness while more mature readers will be able to more fully appreciate the cleverness of Carroll’s prose, poetry, and song. I would wholeheartedly encourage just about anyone to read Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Even without counting the multitude of adapted works, there are a huge number of editions of the original two novels available. There is bound to be a version that will appeal, whether it be Martin Gardner’s extensively annotated editions, which reveal references that modern readers are apt to miss, or one of the many illustrated releases. While I may one day move on to The Annotated Alice, I was very pleased with Seven Seas’ Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. Carroll’s novels and Sison’s illustrations are a delightful combination. I am very glad to have finally read the novels and anticipate reading them again with much enjoyment.

Adaptation Adventures: The Twelve Kingdoms

April 24, 2015 by Ash Brown

In 1992, The Twelve Kingdoms debuted as a series of fantasy novels written by Fuyumi Ono with illustrations by Akihiro Yamada. The series has inspired an anime adaptation as well as audio dramas and video games. Between 2007 and 2010, Tokyopop released English translations of the first four books in the series (which I have previously read and reviewed): Sea of Shadow, Sea of Wind, The Vast Spread of the Seas, and Skies of Dawn.

Although I had vaguely heard great things about The Twelve Kingdoms, I didn’t actually get around to reading the novels until they had technically gone out of print. I ended up loving them and they are well-worth tracking down. (The hardcover editions were apparently notorious for quality control issues, though, so it’s probably best to stick with the paperback releases when they can be found.) Soon after reading the first volume, Sea of Shadow, I immediately sought out the remaining books as well as the anime adaptation; I wanted all of The Twelve Kingdoms in English that I could get. Directed by Tsuneo Kobayashi, the anime is a forty-five-episode series which originally aired between 2002 and 2003. In North America the anime was licensed by Media Blasters. It, too, is well-worth tracking down.

The Twelve Kingdoms is a fantasy epic with an Asian flair, the worldbuilding drawing particular inspiration from Chinese myths and legends. It’s a story about the rise and fall of kingdoms as well as a person’s role in influencing the world around them, whether for good or for ill. There is action, adventure, magic, politics, combat, court intrigue, and more. The Twelve Kingdoms is broad in its scope, but it can also be very personal with the attention that is devoted to its characters and to their development as individuals. Both the narrative and the characters of The Twelve Kingdoms are layered and complex. The Twelve Kingdoms also stands out from many other fantasy works due to its excellent female characters. They often play a prominent role, whether as a hero or as a villain, and in many cases are the characters who are the focus of and really drive the story. They are every bit as nuanced as any of the other characters in the epic.

For the most part, The Twelve Kingdoms anime adapts the material covered in the first four books. So, anyone who has read the Tokyopop novels and is looking for more of the The Twelve Kingdoms story in English won’t find much new. However, there are some differences between these two versions of The Twelve Kingdoms. Some changes are inevitable due to the very nature of the new medium in which the story is being expressed—illustrated prose has been transformed into moving images with color and sound—while others are the result of deliberate choices made by the creative teams.

The anime remains faithful to the content and tone original, but it’s also not a strict retelling. Generally, the novels tend to stand on their own as separate books. They are closely related to one another, sharing the same world and even some of the same characters, but the individual stories don’t necessarily directly impact the others in the series. In the anime, the plot is treated as more of an overarching whole and is chronologically more cohesive. As a result, the anime is arguably more successful in making The Twelve Kingdoms feel more like a single, continuing story rather than a series of connected tales. There are still distinct story arcs in the anime, they’re just more closely intertwined and slightly reordered when compared to those of the novels.

One of the most notable differences between the novels and the anime is the introduction of two new characters (Ikuya Asano and Yuka Sugimoto) who play an important role in the first major story arc which largely adapts the first novel. The addition of these characters actually makes a good deal of sense. For the most part, Sea of Shadow follows Youko Nakajima, who becomes one of the most significant characters in The Twelve Kingdoms as a whole. In the first novel she is quite often alone, both literally and figuratively, and so much of the narrative as well as her personal character development are internal. This sort of inwardly-focused storytelling doesn’t always translate well in a more visual medium; the inclusion of the new characters allows the internal development of The Twelve Kingdoms to become more outwardly explicit in the anime.

In general, I find Yamada’s illustrations in the novels to be more refined and consistent than the anime’s visuals. (I have been sorely tempted to import Yamada’s The Twelve Kingdoms artbooks; they’re gorgeous.) There are scenes in the anime that are stunning, but there are also scenes where the animation and artwork are simply off. However, it is marvelous to see and be constantly aware of the visual details of the series’ setting and character designs in the anime, something that is more easily missed when reading the books. While the novels often allow a reader to better understand the worldbuilding and the more internalized aspects of The Twelve Kingdoms, overall the anime does provide a better visual context.

The anime also has a wonderful soundtrack, something that I particularly appreciate as a musician. Obviously, a soundtrack is one of the elements that the novels completely lack and is therefore unique to the anime. The music for the anime was composed by Kunihiko Ryo and is a mix of sweeping orchestral pieces and pieces more reminiscent of folk music. As previously mentioned, The Twelve Kingdoms as a whole is in large part inspired by Chinese culture, legends, and mythology. This influence can be heard in the soundtrack as well; Ryo incorporates many traditional Chinese instruments and stylings into the music of The Twelve Kingdoms.

I love The Twelve Kingdoms, both the original novels and the anime adaptation. The Twelve Kingdoms has an interesting setting and exceedingly detailed worldbuilding, well-developed characters with strengths and weaknesses, and a complex story that can be engaging as well as emotionally resonant. Anyone who enjoys a good fantasy tale would do well to experience the epic for themselves, in whichever medium it happens to be that appeals to them most. I wish that more of The Twelve Kingdoms was available in English, but what we do have is great.

God’s Boat

April 22, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Kaori Ekuni
Translator: Chikako Kobayashi
U.K. publisher: Thames River Press
ISBN: 9780857282491
Released: December 2012
Original release: 1999

One of my favorite books that I’ve read in the past few years is Kaori Ekuni’s debut and award-winning novel Twinkle Twinkle. Because I enjoyed it to such a great extent, I made a point to seek out more of Ekuni’s work to read. Sadly, God’s Boat is currently her only other major work to have been released in English. The novel was originally published in Japan in 1999. Later it was selected as a part of the Japanese Literature Publishing Project—an effort to promote the publication of modern Japanese works in translation across the globe. The English translation of God’s Boat by Chikako Kobayashi was released in 2012 by Thames River Press, a publisher based in the United kingdom. Ekuni is a respected author in Japan and has won several prestigious awards for her work. However, she doesn’t seem to be very well-known among English-reading audiences, which is a shame. I wish that more of Ekuni’s work was available in translation; her writing is excellent.

Yoko Najima lives alone with her young daughter Soko. She left her husband soon after Soko was born as the result of a passionate love affair. To make ends meet, Yoko teaches piano and works at bars and restaurants. There are three things that she counts as true treasures in her life: piano, Soko, and Soko’s father. But he has disappeared and has been gone for nearly a decade, promising that one day he will return for her. Without him by her side, Yoko feels like she doesn’t belong anywhere. Every few years she moves from one place to another with Soko in tow, afraid that if she gets too comfortable and begins to blend with her surroundings he will never find her. Yoko and Soko drift along together in life, but as Soko grows older she becomes weary of the process of moving and starting over again and again. She wants to make some lasting friendships, establish roots, and find stability. But her mother yearns for nothing more than to be reunited with Soko’s father. She is desperate to see him once more.

Much like Twinkle Twinkle, the narrative of God’s Boat alternates between two, not quite stream-of-consciousness, perspectives. The story gently progresses, at times seen through Yoko’s eyes and at others seen through Soko’s. God’s Boat paints a very intimate portrait of these two women and of their relationship with each other. A little at a time, their most private thoughts and personal memories are revealed, creating a framework from which Ekuni explores themes of love, family, grief, and loss. The novel begins in 1997, when Soko is nine years old, and ends in 2004, following them from Takahagi, to Sakura, to Zushi, and then finally to Tokyo. Yoko doesn’t change much as the novel progresses, but Soko grows significantly as she matures from a child into a young woman, which forces her relationship with her mother to evolve as well. In part, God’s Boat is Soko’s coming-of-age story as she learns to cope with her mother’s eccentricities while living under the shadow of a father she never knew.

In the epilogue, Ekuni states that while God’s Boat “is simple and quiet, the tale is one of madness. Even now I believe it to be the most perilous novel I’ve written thus far.” For the most part, God’s Boat is a very straightforward narrative about the everyday lives of its characters. The madness that Ekuni refers to is subtle, more obvious in retrospect but present from the very beginning of the novel. At first, God’s Boat is fairly unassuming, but tension slowly builds as Soko matures until the novel takes a sudden and devastating turn near its conclusion when the precarious state of Yoko’s mental and emotional stability is laid completely bare. Looking back, the developments aren’t so surprising—eventually reality must invade the romanticized existence that Yoko has created for herself and her daughter. Even so, I was not expecting God’s Boat to be nearly as hard-hitting and emotionally wrenching as it ends up being. The novel is one that will stick with me for quite some time, a testament to Ekuni’s skill as an author.

A Caring Man

April 3, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Akira Arai
Translator: Marc Adler
U.S. publisher: Vertical
ISBN: 9781935654179
Released: 2011
Awards: Golden Elephant Award

A Caring Man is Akira Arai’s debut novel and his first book to be translated into English. The novel was brought to my attention primarily because it, along with Fumi Nakamura’s Enma the Immortal (which I absolutely loved), shared the inaugural Golden Elephant Award’s grand prize. A Caring Man and Enma the Immortal are two very different novels, but they are both engaging. Both novels were also released in English by Vertical. The purpose of the Golden Elephant Award was to “produce and publish promising entertainment stories in multiple languages in the global arena.” With that in mind, the jurors from the first award committee were from Japan, the United States, China, and Korea. It was this emphasis on global appeal that inspired Arai, who had previously worked in the music and film industries, to submit A Caring Man. After winning the award, the novel was simultaneously released in 2011 in Japanese and in English with a translation by Marc Adler.

On August 26, 2011, Japan fell victim to an unprecedented tragedy. Without any sort of warning, bombs strategically placed within Tokyo Tower were detonated, bringing the massive structure toppling down, killing and injuring a huge number of people. The special investigation team, a joint operation between the police force’s Criminal Investigation Department and the Public Security Bureau, is treating the incident as a terrorist attack. However, no group has emerged to claim responsibility for the bombing and the team quickly runs out of leads. There seems to be no concrete motive for the attack beyond a perverse desire to destroy for the sake of destroying. Mariko Amo is a freelance photographer working for scandal and gossip magazines who captured the fall of the tower on film, nearly losing her life in the process. Soon after she is given the opportunity to write a feature article on Yoshio Iizuka, a seemingly upstanding young man who recently established the Society of Victims of Abuse for the Prevention of Abuse. Little does she know that he is the very mastermind behind the Tokyo Tower attack.

A Caring Man deals with some very heavy subject matter. In addition to the attacks of terrorism and mass murder, personal killings and more intimate violence, such as child abuse, are also present in the novel. Yoshio himself was a victim of such abuse. Mutilated and abandoned as a newborn infant, he still carries scars on his body. He uses these and his story to gain empathy from others, employing his striking intelligence to manipulate them even further. Yoshio has an odd sort of intensity and charisma; he knows just what to say and how to act to exploit and control other people. A Caring Man, which takes its title from the characters used in Yoshio’s name, in part explores the mind and nature of a psychologically dark, twisted, and damaged young man. Yoshio’s plans are terrifying, and even more frightening is the fact that he has the abilities and influence needed to actually carry them out. The bombing of Tokyo Tower is only intended to be a dramatic prelude to even greater tragedies to come.

The story of A Caring Man is largely seen from three distinct perspectives, although they do intersect at various points in the novel when major players come into contact or become more deeply involved with one another. Those perspectives also reflect the prominent viewpoints of many modern-day crises. Yoshio and the cohort of young men aiding and in some cases nearly worshipping him form one faction as the perpetrators. The detectives, police, and other law enforcement officers are the investigators and protectors, while the third group consists of Mariko and other members of the media and press. They are the observers, chroniclers, and witnesses with the power to influence the opinions of the general public. Overall, A Caring Man is a well-written and engaging novel, particularly impressive as it is Arai’s debut. A few of the plot twists towards the end weren’t as believable or as effective as the rest of the novel, but otherwise A Caring Man is a solid crime thriller with an intense psychological component.

Boogiepop at Dawn

March 11, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Kouhei Kadono
Illustrator: Kouji Ogata
Translator: Andrew Cunningham
U.S. publisher: Seven Seas
ISBN: 9781934876060
Released: August 2008
Original release: 1999

Technically, Boogiepop at Dawn is the sixth volume in Kouhei Kadono’s series of Boogiepop light novels illustrated by Kouji Ogata, however it serves as a prequel to the entire work. Seven Seas jumped to releasing Boogiepop at Dawn after publishing the first three Boogiepop novels in English—Boogiepop and Others and Boogiepop Returns: VS Imaginator, Part 1 and Part 2. It was a decision that made sense: the entire series wasn’t able to be translated, Boogiepop at Dawn ties in directly with the early novels, and the volume was partially the basis for the Boogiepop Phantom anime. Boogiepop at Dawn was originally published in Japan in 1999 while Andrew Cunningham’s English translation was released by Seven Seas in 2008 (two years after the first three books). I discovered the Boogiepop franchise late, after the novels and manga available in English had already gone out of print, but I have still been thoroughly enjoying the series and looked forward to reading Boogiepop at Dawn

As an agent working for the secretive Towa Organization, Scarecrow is responsible for finding other humans who, like him, have extraordinary psychic and physical abilities and strengths. The Towa Organization is very interested in these remarkable people; by controlling them it hopes to control the course of human evolution. Scarecrow’s search is made easier by the fact that he poses as Kuroda Shinpei, a private detective; he is able to continue his primary investigation while working more mundane cases. Scarecrow meets Kirima Nagi, a young woman who has been hospitalized with an undiagnosed but painful condition, while searching for evidence against another Towa agent whose loyalty has been called into question. Nagi has the potential to become one of those exceptional, highly-evolved people he is searching for, but instead of reporting her to the Towa Organization, Scarecrow decides to go against his orders, saving her life by risking his own and triggering a sequence of events that will leave multiple people dead.

Although Boogiepop at Dawn is a prequel, it really is intended to be read by those who are already familiar with Boogiepop in general and with the first few volumes of the series specifically. But for those readers who are, Boogiepop at Dawn is spectacular and a very satisfying addition. Ostensibly the volume is the origin story of Boogipeop—a supernatural entity in conflict with the Towa Organization who is also keeping watch over the super-evolved humans, destroying them when necessary—and to a small extent it is. But Boogiepop actually makes very few appearances in the volume. However, Boogiepop at Dawn does provide an extensive background for another of the series’ primary characters, Nagi, and explains the purpose of the Towa Organization. Many of the other protagonists and antagonists from the earlier Boogiepop novels make a showing as well, which ties everything together very nicely. I was particularly pleased to learn more about Nagi’s father, Kirima Seiichi, an author of peculiar importance to the series whose story hasn’t been fully revealed until now.

Boogiepop at Dawn is a collection of four closely connected narratives with an additional framing story that bookends the volume. Most of the stories focus on Nagi, either directly or tangentially. Much like the other Boogiepop novels, Boogiepop at Dawn employs elements from a number of different genres, but it may safely be called speculative fiction as a whole. All melded together in the volume are bits of mystery and detective work, horror, action and martial arts, the supernatural, and science fiction. Boogiepop at Dawn is engaging and at times chillingly dark with heavy psychological components. The individual stories are seen from different perspectives, at various points following Scarecrow, Seiichi, a serial murderer, and an assassin. Boogiepop is mostly a presence in the background, but an important one nonetheless. Boogiepop at Dawn is also similar to the earlier volumes of the series in that it does not adhere to a strictly chronological structure, but it’s fascinating to seen the beginnings of the plot threads that will become so entangled in the other novels.

Gauntlet

February 11, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Ellery Prime
Illustrator: T2A
Publisher: Chromatic Press
ISBN: 9780993861123
Released: December 2014

Although Ellery Prime has been writing for years, Gauntlet, illustrated by the talented T2A, is her first original novel to have been published. Gauntlet is also the first novel to have both started and finished in Chromatic Press’ multi-media online magazine Sparkler Monthly before being released in print. Gauntlet began serialization in the very first issue of Sparkler Monthly in 2013 and was completed in 2014, after which it was revised and complied into a single volume. The finalized version of Gauntlet also includes additional material not found elsewhere: “Square One,” a short prequel to the main story, as well as a few amusing yonkoma-style bonus comics. Gauntlet has been very accurately described as a “survival horror romance novel” by the publisher. I’m actually kind of glad that I waited to read Gauntlet until it had been finished; the number of twists and cliffhangers would have made the wait between chapters torturous.

Twenty-two-year-old Clio has recently moved to the big city. Embarking on her new life as a responsible, independent adult, Clio is largely enjoying living on her own. After three months she has grown more and more comfortable as a resident of the city and with finding her way around its streets and alleyways, but that all changes when she makes a wrong turn and puts her trust into the wrong people. Suddenly Clio finds herself a reluctant participant in a game of survival, trapped inside the Gauntlet–an incredible and expansive system of interconnected buildings at the heart of the city. Clio doesn’t even know the rules she should be following, nor does she know who is responsible for the game or why she was chosen as a participant. Each person she encounters in the Gauntlet has their own reasons for being there, and many are playing by their own rules. Clio may be in even more danger than she realizes. The other players she meets are just as likely to manipulate or betray her as they are to help her.

One of the things that makes Gauntlet particularly engaging and enthralling is its setting–the Gauntlet itself. The complex is logic-defying, a constantly changing labyrinth that presents very real survival concerns: finding food, clean water, and safe places to hide and rest, not to mention avoiding capture and falling into the hands or under the influence of people who, intentionally or not, mean harm. But the Gauntlet is also insidiously seductive. At first Clio desperately wants to find a way out and to escape, but there’s an underlying fear that she will lose her will to do so. Some people, perhaps most, never leave the Gauntlet after entering it even if they survive. Clio discovers many who are mindlessly shuffling through its halls and corridors as well as participants who have simply give up, content to be controlled by others. But most dangerous and terrifying are those people who have made deliberate, conscious decisions to remain within the Gauntlet’s depths.

The characters in Gauntlet are just as intriguing and complex as the novel’s setting. In the beginning Clio isn’t nearly as independent as she believes herself to be. Very early on she attaches herself to Britt, another young woman in the Gauntlet, which will have significant ramifications later on. Again and again Clio comes to rely on others and again and again she is taken advantage of by those very same people, all of whom have their own motivations and desires. But she grows and becomes stronger, impressively so. In some ways, Gauntlet feels like a dark homage to Lewis Carroll’s Wonderland–the Gauntlet and the people within it operate by their own logic with surprising, unexpected, and sometimes curious and peculiar results–and there are frequent nods to other stories and fairy tales as well. After finishing the novel, not only did I want more of Gauntlet, I also wanted to immediately read it again to see how all of its individual pieces fit together from the beginning. That, to me, is a sign of a great piece of fiction.

The Sound of the Mountain

January 31, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Yasunari Kawabata
Translator: Edward G. Seidensticker
U.S. publisher: Alfred A. Knopf
ISBN: 9780679762645
Released: May 1996
Original release: 1954
Awards: National Book Award

Prior to reading The Sound of the Mountain I had only read one other novel by the distinguished Japanese author Yasunari Kawabata–Thousand Cranes, one of the three works to have been cited when Kawabata became the first Japanese recipient of the Nobel Prize for Literature. I enjoyed Thousand Cranes and have been meaning to read more of Kawabata’s work for quite some time now. Although it probably isn’t his best known work to have been translated, The Sound of the Mountain does have the distinction of being one of Kawabata’s longest novels. The volume was completed in Japan in 1954 after having been serialized for five years. Also in 1954, the novel was adapted as a live-action film directed by Mikio Naruse. The Sound of the Mountain was first translated into English by Edward G. Seidensticker in 1970 for which he won the National Book Award for Translation.

Shingo Ogata is an aging businessman in postwar Japan. His memory has started to fail him, his hair turns whiter as each day passes, many of his friends and acquaintances have already died, and he begins to be plagued by peculiar dreams. There is nothing he can do to halt the steady decline of his mind and health, but what concerns him most is the decline of his family and the unraveling of his children’s marriages. The philandering ways of Shingo’s son Shuichi are an open secret but his son’s wife Kikuko remains devoted to him, although perhaps even more so to Shingo. Shingo’s daughter, too, is having marital problems. The situation may or may not be temporary, but she has left her husband and is currently living in her parent’s home along with her young children. The house is full, the family’s relationships are strained, and Shingo is conflicted over what he should be doing about it all and over his developing feelings for Kikuko.

The Sound of the Mountain is a relatively quiet novel. Shingo has his personal struggles and internal strife, and there is plenty of family drama, but the work largely consists of snippets of the everyday lives of the Ogata household. None of the characters in The Sound of the Mountain are particularly exceptional in any sort of way. Their lives and their troubles, while certainly having a great impact on those around them, are mundane. Kawabata’s characterization of the individual family members is often very subtle and nuanced, as is his portrayal of the intricacies of their interpersonal relationships. As much as The Sound of the Mountain is about Shingo growing older, it’s just as much about the transformation of his family. All things must inevitably come to an end. Shingo knows this, and knows that his life, too, will eventually end, but he still feels guilty about and responsible for the direction his family and his children are heading.

It’s been a few years since I’ve read it, but overall I think I probably prefer Thousand Cranes over The Sound of the Mountain. However, the two novels do share some similarities: a focus on people and how they interact, a sparse writing style laden with symbolism, and so on. In the case of Thousand Cranes it was the Japanese tea ceremony that provided an underlying framework for the narrative while in The Sound of the Mountain it’s Shingo’s dreams and the change of the seasons–the steady progression of time. The Sound of the Mountain has a resigned, melancholic air to it. The novel isn’t particularly uplifting, but in some ways it can be comforting to see a realistic depiction of a family trying to come to terms with the changes both in their lives as individuals and in their relationships to one another. The Sound of the Mountain captures those fleeting moments of joy and of unrest, revealing that in any stage of life people are at least partially defined by those closest to them.

Good Luck, Yukikaze

January 21, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Chōhei Kambayashi
Translator: Neil Nadelman
U.S. publisher: Viz Media
ISBN: 9781421539010
Released: July 2011
Original release: 1999
Awards: Seiun Award

Good Luck, Yukikaze is Chōhei Kambayashi’s second Yukikaze novel as well as his second novel to be released in English. A sequel to Yukikaze–which was originally written in 1984 before later being revised–Good Luck, Yukikaze was published in Japan in 1999 after being serialized between 1992 and 1999. Like Yukikaze, Good Luck, Yukikaze was translated into English by Neil Nadelman and released by Haikasoru, Viz Media’s speculative fiction imprint. The English edition of the novel was published in 2011 and also includes a concluding essay with commentary by Maki Ohno. The Yukikaze novels are some of Kambayashi’s most well-known and respected works. Yukikaze wold earn Kambayashi a Seiun Award when it was first written and Good Luck, Yukikaze would receive the same honor after its publication as well. I found the first Yukikaze novel to be thought-provoking and so looked forward to reading its sequel. A third volume in the series also exists, Unbroken Arrow, however it has yet to be translated into English.

Despite humanity’s best efforts the war against the JAM, a mysterious alien force, has continued for more than three decades. Although the end of the fighting is nowhere in sight, some progress has been made, especially in regards to the technology, computers, and weapons that humans employ. But those advances could possibly lead to humanity’s obsolescence and are a threat to its existence. Rei Fukai was one of the best pilots in the Special Air Force, but he was left in a coma after his highly advanced fighter plane Yukikaze took the initiative and ejected him during battle against his will. Eventually he awakens, bu he continues to suffer from the immense psychological blow–Yukikaze was the only thing beyond himself that he trusted and he was betrayed and discarded; he struggles to come to terms with all that has happened to him. Meanwhile the war goes on, as does Rei’s personal battle against the JAM. Like it or not, he and Yukikaze have caught the invaders’ attention.

When I read Yukikaze it took a few chapters before the novel was able to completely engage me, and so I wasn’t initially concerned when Good Luck, Yukikaze failed to immediately grab my attention. I kept waiting and waiting for the moment when it would finally all come together for me, but that moment never seemed to arrive. In fact, I found myself growing more and more frustrated with Good Luck, Yukikaze as a novel the more that I read. If I hadn’t already had some investment in the story and characters from reading the previous novel, I’m not sure Good Luck, Yukikaze would have been something that I would have been interested in–at least as fiction. The problem was that, despite a few intense action scenes, very little actually happens in Good Luck, Yukikaze. The characters seem to spend most of their time talking in circles, over and over again, interrupting the flow of the narrative. I approached Good Luck, Yukikaze expecting a novel, not a philosophical treatise.

Even though Good Luck, Yukikaze can be a bit of a slog at times, and even though I didn’t particularly enjoy it as a fictional narrative, the tremendous ideas, concepts, psychologies, and philosophies that Kambayashi explores through the novel are undeniably fascinating and thought-provoking. Good Luck Yukikaze challenges the characters’ and readers’ understanding of the nature of reality and what it means to exist. In the novel, Kambayashi examines the often tumultuous relationship humanity has with the technology and it has created, and speculates on the direction that relationship is taking as humans struggle to maintain control and autonomy. Computers have become so incredibly advanced that the line between true consciousness and artificial intelligence is blurring. One of the central questions posed by Good Luck, Yukikaze is if it even matters if there is or isn’t a difference between the two, or if functionally it’s simply the next logical evolutionary step.

Manazuru

January 14, 2015 by Ash Brown

Author: Hiromi Kawakami
Translator: Michael Emmerich
U.S. publisher: Counterpoint
ISBN: 9781582436005
Released: August 2010
Original release: 2006
Awards: Art Encouragement Prize, Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission Prize

My introduction to the work of Hiromi Kawakami was through the annual literary journal Monkey Business: New Writing from Japan which regularly features her short fiction. In fact, her quirky series of vignettes, “People from My Neighborhood,” is one of the recurring selections that I most look forward to from issue to issue. Recently I was reminded that some of her long form work had also been translated, most notable her award-winning novels The Briefcase and Manazuru. Of the two, Manazuru was the first to be released in English. The novel, originally published in Japan in 2006, was selected for the Japanese Literary Publishing Project and has also been translated into several other languages, including French, German, and Russian. Michael Emmerich’s English translation of Manazuru was published by Counterpoint Press in 2010 and received a Japan-U.S. Friendship Commission Prize. Manazuru was also very well received in Japan; Kawakami was awarded an Art Encouragement Prize from the Ministry of Education for the novel’s literary achievements.

Over a decade ago, Kei Yanagimoto’s husband Rei disappeared without a trace. No one seems to know what happened to him or where he went, why he abandoned Kei and their three-year-old daughter Momo, or if he is alive or dead. But life continues on for Kei. She and Momo now live together with her aging mother and she’s even having an affair with Seiji, a married man she met through her work as a freelance writer. But she still misses Rei tremendously and she feels his absence daily. As Momo grows older and matures she becomes more distant and Kei is afraid that she may lose her daughter as well. Kei has yet to come to terms with Rei’s disappearance and struggles to remember and to forget at the same time. When Kei discovers “Manazuru” written in a diary that Rei left behind she finds herself compelled to return to that seaside town again and again, chasing after some sort of long-lost memory. Manazuru holds meaning for Kei, for her past and for her future, if only she can open herself to discover it.

Manazuru is a poetic and atmospheric novel with a touch of the surreal. The narrative is told entirely from Kei’s perspective in an almost stream-of-conscious fashion as she moves from moment to moment in her life and from memory to memory. There is an intense sense of longing present in Manazuru. It is very clear that Kei loves and adores Rei. His disappearance is difficult for Kei to accept but even more difficult is not knowing the reasons why he is gone; Kei’s internal self is understandably in turmoil. As the novel progresses, and as Kei searches her very soul for answers and remembers more and more about herself and about her husband, what is real and what is imagined begin to increasingly blur together. Kei’s perception of the truth unravels and frays, lending a dreamlike quality to Manazuru, only to be woven together again as she forms a new understanding and acceptance of everything that has passed.

Overall, Manazuru is quiet, ethereal, and melancholic. The slow and subdued drive of the novel comes almost exclusively from Kei’s thoughts and feelings rather than from outside of herself. More than it is about an action-heavy plot, Manazaru is about Kei’s relationship with and to others, especially her family and her lover, but that doesn’t mean that the novel is lacking in drama. Kei’s mother never liked Rei to begin with; Momo starts to look more and more like her father; Seiji is Rei’s complete opposite, but that only serves to repeatedly remind Kei of her husband. Although Rei is missing, he is very much the largest presence in Kei’s life, a shadow that haunts her and that obscures the people around her. The more Kei tries to remember the more she forgets and the more she tries to forget the more she remembers. Manazuru is a meditation on memory, loss, and letting go. It’s a beautifully poignant and moving work.

Random Musings: Notable in 2014

December 26, 2014 by Ash Brown

Last December, for the very first time at Experiments in Manga, I made an end-of-the-year list of titles that were, for me, particularly notable in 2013. I enjoyed pulling the list together (which probably isn’t too surprising given my propensity for making lists), and so I’ve decided to make it an ongoing feature. It’s not exactly a “best of” list, and it’s not exactly a list of favorites either, but out of everything that I read over the last year, the following releases from 2014 particularly stood out for me in some way:

Inio Asano’s Nijigahara Holograph was the first work to really floor me in 2014. It’s a dark and disturbing manga that is both brutal and beautiful. Nijigahara Holograph isn’t an easy read, not just because of its heavy thematic content, but also because its ambiguous narrative structure is challenging and can be confusing. The manga is complex and layered. Open to multiple interpretations, Nijigahara Holograph is a work that holds up well to repeated readings.

It’s not a secret that I’m a fan of Moyoco Anno’s work but even if I wasn’t I still would have been hugely impressed by In Clothes Called Fat. In many ways the manga is an uncomfortable read, but it is also an extremely powerful examination of physical and psychological ugliness and beauty. While there is dark humor in In Clothes Called Fat, Anno doesn’t pull her punches, showing the obsessive extremes to which society and individuals subject themselves in order to obtain an arbitrary ideal.

One of my most anticipated releases for 2014 was Massive: Gay Erotic Manga and the Men Who Make It and I was not at all disappointed by the work. The groundbreaking collection is spectacular, introducing nine of the most influential creators of gay erotic manga through photography, essays, interviews, manga, and more. Anyone at all interested in the genre, its creators, or its history needs to read Massive. Fantagraphics and the team of editors did a fantastic job with the volume.

When it comes to 2014 manga with gay themes, I was also particularly pleased to see the release of the first five volumes of What Did You Eat Yesterday? by Fumi Yoshinaga which has one of the most realistic portrayals of an established contemporary queer relationship that I’ve come across in fiction. It’s also a food manga, which I love. Not everyone will appreciate the amount of attention the series devotes to very detailed food preparation, though; even I’m much more invested in the characters’ lives.

2014 was very a good year for interesting new shoujo. One of the most delightful was Kazune Kawahara and Aruko’s My Love Story!!. The series plays around with shoujo tropes and expectations and is both funny and endearing. The characters, too, are lovely and charming. I’m still not certain how long the series’ basic premise will be able to be sustained, but I’ll be following My Love Story!! until its end. Just reading the two volumes that have so far been released makes me incredibly happy.

Another shoujo that caught my attention was Setona Mizushiro’s Black Rose Alice. Now, vampires aren’t generally my thing, especially since they’ve been so overdone recently, but the vampires in Black Rose Alice really are very different from any other vampire that I’ve encountered before. After only two volumes I don’t understand everything that’s going on yet, but there is no question that the series is marvelously unsettling, creepy, and atmospheric. I desperately need to read more.

Tetsuya Tsutsui’s Prophecy was a manga that seemed to come out of nowhere for me, and I don’t think it’s on many people’s radars yet. It should be though. One volume was released in 2014, but I’m already very impressed by the series. Maybe because I work so heavily with electronic resources, I especially appreciate Prophecy‘s realistic take on information and cyber crime. The series deals with the implications of online anonymity and contemporary social issues in a very engaging way.

I have been thoroughly enjoy Makoto Yukimura’s epic Vinland Saga ever since its debut in 2013, but it wasn’t until the second omnibus was released early in 2014 that I absolutely fell in love with the manga. The second through fifth omnibuses were published over the past year which amounts to well over 1700 pages of content. Yukimura’s artwork seems to get more detailed with each passing volume and the attention given to historical detail in both the series’ art and its story is superb.

Yoshikazu Yasuhiko’s Mobile Suit Gundam: The Origin is one of two manga that appeared both on last year’s and this year’s notable list. While I don’t have a particular interest in Gundam as a whole, The Origin continues to demand my attention. And not just because it’s one of the best-looking manga releases in English. The scope of The Origin is epic, but the attention given to characterization makes it all feel very personal. Volumes five through eight were released in 2014 and its good stuff.

Takako Shimura’s Wandering Son is the second manga to make my notable list two years in a row. To be perfectly honest, it will probably appear on every list of notable manga that I make. The series is incredibly important to me on a very personal level. Only two volumes were published in 2014, the sixth and the seventh. I wish the wait between each volume coming out wasn’t as long, but really I’m just extraordinarily happy that Wandering Son is being released in English at all.

I discovered Toril Orlesky’s Hotblood!: A Centaur in the Old West while at TCAF. It was a splurge purchase of a comic I hadn’t even heard of before, but it quickly became one of my favorites. Great artwork, great characters, great worldbuilding, just a great comic. I don’t follow many webcomics as they are released online. Hotblood! is one of the few exceptions–I read each update as soon as I possibly can. So far, the first two volumes have been completed and the third is currently being serialized.

At this point, I should probably just give anything written by Gene Luen Yang a try. Boxers & Saints was included on last year’s notable list and this year his collaboration with Sonny Liew, The Shadow Hero, made the cut. I wasn’t initially even going to read The Shadow Hero since I’m not especially interested in superheros, but that would have been a mistake. It’s an excellent comic with humor, heart, and history, inspired by an obscure superhero from the 1940s.

Yu Godai’s Quantum Devil Saga: Avatar Tuner, Volume 1 was another surprise. I didn’t initially know much about the series except that it was related to the Shin Megami Tensei franchise. But then I read it and was immediately hooked, fascinated by its setting and atmosphere as well as the philosophical and psychological development of its characters. An absorbing work of science fiction, I’ll definitely be picking up the second volume of Quantum Devil Saga as soon as I can.

After two years of online serialization, 2014 saw the publication of Add a Little Chaos, the second volume of Tokyo Demons, a series of novels written by Lianne Sentar and illustrated by Rem. My obsession with all things Tokyo Demons is well-known, but the second book was phenomenal. Things get pretty dark and heavy, so the stakes for the third and final volume are incredibly high. I can’t even bring myself to wait for the last volume to be completed; I’m following the serialization this time.

The Early Cases of Akechi Kogorō

December 19, 2014 by Ash Brown

Author: Edogawa Rampo
Translator: William Varteresian
U.S. publisher: Kurodahan Press
ISBN: 9784902075625
Released: November 2014
Original release: 1925-1926

Edogawa Rampo, the pen name of Hirai Tarō, was an extraordinarily influential author in Japan, especially when it came to the genre of detective and crime fiction. His influence can still be seen to this day and his work continues to inspire other creators. One of his most famous characters is the detective Akechi Kogorō. Previously, only a handful of stories featuring Akechi had been translated into English: “The Psychological Test,” found in Japanese Tales of Mystery and Imagination; The Black Lizard, which was collected in a single volume along with Beast in the Shadows; “The Stalker in the Attic,” published in The Edogawa Rampo Reader; and The Fiend with Twenty Faces. I have always wished for a volume entirely devoted to Akechi mysteries and so I was very happy when Kurodahan Press announced The Early Cases of Akechi Kogorō. Published in 2014 with translations by William Varteresian, the anthology collects four of the earliest Akechi stories written between 1925 and 1926.

After an excellent and informative introductory essay about Edogawa Rampo and Akechi Kogorō, The Early Cases of Akechi Kogorō opens with Rampo’s very first mystery featuring Akechi, “The Case of the Murder on D. Hill,” a short story about the death of Akechi’s childhood friend, the wife of an owner of a secondhand bookshop he frequents. Rampo hadn’t initially intended for Akechi to become a recurring character in his fiction but readers liked him. The second story in the volume, “The Black Hand Gang,” is narrated by the same protagonist as the first, a relatively new acquaintance of Akechi, and the two of them become involved with an investigation into the disappearance of a young relative. In “The Ghost,” Akechi doesn’t appear until rather late in the story to deal with a peculiar case of a wealthy man suffering from a rival’s deep-seated grudge. The volume concludes with The Dwarf, a short novel well-received by the public but apparently disliked by Rampo himself in which Akechi is faced with an increasingly complicated murder mystery with numerous twist and turns.

All four stories in The Early Cases of Akechi Kogorō were written towards the beginning of Rampo’s career. As is noted in the introduction, Rampo largely wasn’t very happy with them. Although The Dwarf became fairly well-known in part thanks to its film adaptations, the cases collected in the volume are generally not examples of Rampo’s best or strongest work, lacking the polish of later stories. An important component of “The Black Hand Gang” doesn’t even translate very well into English since it relies on a cryptographic method based on the Japanese writing systems. Overall, the included mysteries are still enjoyable but somehow not quite as compelling as many of Rampo’s other tales. He would, however, reuse, rework, and refine many of their elements in subsequent writings. One of the things that makes these four stories particularly notable, and the reason that they have been collected together in the first place, is that they reveal Akechi very early on in his development before has become Rampo’s iconic detective and even before his character has been firmly established.

I’ll admit, I like this early Akechi in all of his eccentricities. In “The Case of the Murder on D. Hill” he begins as a well-read and intelligent young man with a particular interest in and fascination with detective and mystery fiction. The small apartment that he rents is so full of books that there’s barely any room to stand, let alone sit or entertain guests. He’s a flashy dresser and an eloquent speaker with a fondness and flair for the dramatic. By the time of The Dwarf, Akechi has begun to transform into the master detective that he will later be remembered as. He is no longer just an amateur sleuth seeking out strange cases in his spare time as some sort of hobby; Akechi has become a skilled and famous investigator with contacts in the judicial and police forces and a cohort of men working under him. I enjoyed The Early Cases of Akechi Kogorō a great deal specifically because it provides a glimpse of the earliest incarnations of Rampo’s great detective. I do hope to have the opportunity to read even more of Akechi’s stories in translation in the future.

Quantum Devil Saga: Avatar Tuner, Vol. 1

November 28, 2014 by Ash Brown

Author: Yu Godai
Translator: Kevin Frane
U.S. publisher: Bento Books
ISBN: 9781939326003
Released: July 2014
Original release: 2011

Quantum Devil Saga: Avatar Tuner, Volume 1, a novel written by Yu Godai, was originally published in Japan in 2011. The English-language edition of the volume, translated by Kevin Frane, was released in 2014 by Bento Books. It is the first book in a five-volume series which is further divided into three parts. (The first volume consists of the first half of the first part.) Those familiar with the video game series Digital Devil Saga: Avatar Tuner, a spinoff of the Shin Megami Tensei games, will find Quantum Devil Saga to be familiar as well. The series isn’t a novelization of the video games, but it is based on the same original story created by Godai which became the underlying framework for Digital Devil Saga. Although I was aware of Shin Megami Tensei, which has quite a following, and Digital Devil Saga specifically, I’ve never actually played any of the games myself. Even so, I was still very interested in reading Quantum Devil Saga, Godai’s first written work to appear in English.

The denizens of the Junkyard exist to die in battle only to be born again in a never-ending struggle to reach the promised paradise of Nirvana. The Junkyard is divided into seven territories, one held by the Church of the Arbiters of Karma while the other six are the domain of rival tribes of skilled fighters. Only when one group is able to obtain complete control of the entire Junkyard will the gates to Nirvana be opened. Serph is the leader of the Embryon, a small tribe that has quickly gained strength, numbers, and territory. During the Embryon’s confrontation with the Vanguards tribe, an unidentifiable device appears on the battlefield which dramatically changes the balance of power in the Junkyard, unleashing the combatants’ darker selves and transforming them into demons. Suddenly, the very laws that governed the world in which they live have changed. Established systems have begun to fracture, the cycle of reincarnation is interrupted, and the quest for Nirvana has become deadlier than ever.

Quantum Devil Saga isn’t a video game novelization, nor does it read like one. However, it is quite easy to see how the story and scenario could be suited for or smoothly adapted as a game. The narrative is fairly linear, generally following Serph’s point of view as he and his comrades strive to understand everything that has happened. The way that the transformations are handled and how skills and knowledge are gained in the novel could sometimes be reminiscent of game play or mechanics. The characters fight in a series of battles with increasingly high stakes and difficulty levels, ultimately ending with what cold be considered a boss battle. It’s clearly not the final boss, though, seeing as the first volume concludes with something of a cliffhanger. But none of these similarities are actually bad things and despite them Quantum Devil Saga doesn’t feel overly game-like. It is entirely its own work and exceptionally engaging one at that. The action is exciting and clear, the characters’ philosophical and psychological development is fascinating, and the translation is great, too. Once I started reading Quantum Devil Saga, I didn’t want to put it down.

What made Quantum Devil Saga particularly interesting and intriguing for me was its setting and atmosphere. The world-building of the series is heavily informed by Hindu and Buddhist cosmology and symbolism. (There is also at least one example of Mayan influence, but I found its inclusion to be rather strange given the context of the rest of the novel.) At first it seems as though these concepts are mostly used as a source of aesthetic inspiration, but they actually run fairly deep. However, readers don’t necessarily need to be acquainted with Hinduism or Buddhism to enjoy the story, although those who are will probably get even more out of an already great novel. The overall tone of Quantum Devil Saga is fairly dark. The demonic transformations that the characters are subject to have horrific and unsettling implications. Some of them wholeheartedly embrace their new powers and forms while others are desperate to hold on to the shreds of their humanity. They are forced to face their true selves and struggle with what they see. I enjoyed the first volume of Quantum Devil Saga immensely and can’t wait for the second volume to be released.