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Bookshelf Briefs 8/1/11

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This week, Michelle, Melinda, & David check out recent releases from Digital Manga Publishing, Viz Media, & Yen Press.

Entangled Circumstances | By Kikuko Kikuya | Published by Digital Manga – Actually, this stand-alone yaoi tale could use a few more tangles. College acquaintances are reunited in the workplace, and the renewed acquaintance is not a welcome one for Shibui, who seems to despise the flattering attentions of handsome, quirky Himeko. If you’ve read more than, say, five yaoi stories, you’ve probably run across this type of tale at least once, with a character’s reactions and behaviors having more complex origins than the reader is initially led to suspect. Of course, those complex origins don’t vary a lot from version to version, and Kikuya doesn’t do much to break the mold. On the bright side, she draws well, and she’s got a lively sense of pacing. If the characters were just a bit more specific – if they really popped – Kikuya could successfully transcend formula. As things stand, this book is more predictable than likable. – David Welsh

K-ON!, Vol. 3 | By Kakifly | Published by Yen Press – I never thought I would be saying this, but this volume of K-ON! is actually pretty good. The flow of the four-panel strips has improved considerably, and though there are fewer punchlines, it doesn’t really matter, since they were never funny to begin with. Instead, the volume reads in a more linear fashion, and episodes wherein the group tries to accustom Mio (the reserved one) to performing in public by randomly getting hired at a maid café actually turn out to have some bearing on things that happen later. Even the overreliance on seasonal high notes like Valentine’s Day and the class trip doesn’t annoy me as much as it might’ve, though I’m seriously weary of the boob-grabbing gags. – Michelle Smith

Nabari No Ou, Vol. 7 | By Yuhki Kamatani | Published by Yen Press – It’s hard to believe that I ever described this series as “extremely dull,” but it’s true that it took a few volumes to win me over. Thankfully, it just keeps on getting better. Volume seven marks the halfway point of the series, with Miharu, the living embodiment of a secret ninja art, rebelling against his former comrades, making new alliances, and shedding his indifference where the life of his friend, Yoite, is concerned. Add in some rival shinobi hoping to harvest human “ingredients” in order to concoct the only medicine with a chance at saving their chief as well as some pretty significant revelations about a major character, and you end up with a pretty terrific volume. – Michelle Smith

Ôoku: The Inner Chambers, Vol. 6 | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Published by Viz Media – I know it isn’t much in the way of critical analysis, but I always feel the need to remind people that this series exists, licensed and in English, and that they should really be reading it if they’ve ever publicly expressed a yearning for mature and challenging Japanese comics. This volume of Yoshinaga’s alternate-universe look at Japan’s feudal era addresses complex issues of succession and loyalty, which gives the creator plenty of meaty emotional raw material to twist in her hands. The driving notion of this series – a world where the male population has been decimated by disease – is more than just an attention-grabbing gimmick. It allows Yoshinaga to dig into gender roles and notions of personal power in ways that few creators bother to attempt. It’s also as gorgeous and sexy as it is smart and complicated, which is pretty much everything you could ever want from a mature manga. – David Welsh

Otomen, Vol. 11 | Aya Kanno | Viz Media – As with most comedic manga, I’ve run hot and cold with Otomen over the course of its run. Though the series consistently offers smart, funny commentary on traditional gender roles, this is a trait that doesn’t necessarily lend itself to long-form storytelling. A single joke—even a really great joke—is not infinitely sustainable, and the ability of Otomen‘s core satire to single-handedly carry the series ran out about six or seven volumes ago. Fortunately, mangaka Aya Kanno seems to have realized this as well, as she’s attempted to deepen her message and finally explore her characters as full-fledged people over the past few volumes, both with more success than I might have expected. Though on the surface, a competition between two men over their respective accumulation of Valentine’s Day chocolate may sound like an unlikely vehicle for effective characterization, Kanno somehow makes it work. Still recommended. – Melinda Beasi

The Story of Saiunkoku, Vol. 4 | Art by Kairi Yura, Story by Sai Yukino | Viz Media – There’s no denying that The Story of Saiunkoku is a very pretty manga. Filled with dreamy bishounen, period costuming, and long, luxurious hairstyles, it would be easy for a manga like this to glide along on looks alone. Fortunately, much like its smart, resourceful heroine, The Story of Saiunkoku would never consider taking the easy way out. Text-heavy but never tedious, The Story of Saiunkoku provides all the best elements of epic shoujo romance with almost no focus on romance at all, while somehow making the minutiae of ancient Chinese government appear more fascinating than a thousand love scenes combined. Though this volume strays a bit from the main storyline to touch on the history of the Hongs’ bearded houseguest, Ensei, it provides readers with a major payoff near the end, as Emperor Ryuki takes steps to make it possible for Shurei achieve her lifelong career goals. Highly recommended. – Melinda Beasi

Off the Shelf: Good Reads & Oddities

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MICHELLE: I just ate an uncooked tortilla full of cheese.

MELINDA: I am eating bread stuffed with pepperoni.

MICHELLE: Assuming yours was actually cooked, I deem you the more sophisticated snacker. Shall we stop talking food and start talking manga?

MELINDA: Sure! I had a great week in manga, actually, with new volumes from two of my favorite creators arriving at my doorstep. It began with volume six of Ooku, Fumi Yoshinaga’s historical manga set in an alternate version of feudal Japan in which the male population has been nearly wiped out, leaving women to step into traditionally male roles.

This series has been fascinating from the start, and I’ve written quite a bit about it, especially in terms of the way it portrays a gender-reversed society that is essentially still patriarchal. This is still fascinating, but what really struck me in particular as I was reading this volume is just how much it reads like true history. Everything about this volume evokes a feeling of authenticity so strong, if I didn’t know anything about the history of Japan, I would absolutely believe it was non-fiction. That might not sound like a compliment, considering the quality of writing in a lot of non-fiction, but I absolutely mean it as such.

Every detail here, even the odd speech and awkward cadence, feels authentic. This is enhanced greatly by the strong sense, in this volume particularly, that everything here is far in the past, imbuing the story with an aura of inevitability I can’t quite describe. These events are fact, immutable and accepted by generations of people before us. That’s how the story feels.

The series gets pretty unsavory in places, and this volume is no exception there, but one experiences it with the same acceptance as one must when reading history. Even the ugliest moments are irrevocably part of the story’s time and place.

This may seem like a pretty simplistic observation, but really, it hadn’t hit me so strongly before this point. It honestly felt like a revelation of a sort.

MICHELLE: I wonder if that viewpoint will help me get past the hurdle of volume two. “Fictional cat, fictional cat,” I’ve been trying to tell myself. Maybe my mantra should be “Fictional cat a long, long time ago” instead.

MELINDA: Perhaps even “Real cat from a long time ago whose memory stays alive through poignant depiction of its fate.”

MICHELLE: That may be pushing it a bit.

MELINDA: Well then, moving on, what have you read this week? You know, that doesn’t involve an untimely feline death?

MICHELLE: Some interesting stuff, actually! As you might be aware, I’ve had some difficulty in pinpointing how I feel about Julietta Suzuki’s Kamisama Kiss. Each volume has been more or less enjoyable, yet I’ve remained disappointed.

I’m happy to report that the third volume has hopefully changed that. This has less to do with any alterations on Suzuki’s part, however, and more with one I made myself: I stopped waiting to be impressed. Because I liked Suzuki’s Karakuri Odette so much, I was waiting for her to transcend that series with this new one, and it just wasn’t happening. By volume three, this impulse had largely subsided and I was able to simply enjoy the series for what it is: an episodic supernatural sitcom.

Volumes two and three have established a pattern: Nanami goes to school and encounters some new supernatural hottie from whom Tomoe, her slightly grumpy but actually kind shinshi (familiar), must protect and/or rescue her. Volume three’s interloper is Mizuki, a shinshi whose master has disappeared due to lack of worshippers. He takes the form of a white snake, and when he randomly shows up at Nanami’s school in this guise, she prevents other students from harming him. He repays this favor by leaving a mark on her that means they are now engaged.

It’s gratifying to see Tomoe spurred to action on Nanami’s behalf, even as he tries to tell himself it’s only on account of his shinshi dignity, and they are both awakening to their feelings more swiftly than I’d expected. None of this is really new territory—the description “Black Bird Lite” would not be far off—but as long as one stops expecting some sort of innovation, it’s actually a pretty nice story.

MELINDA: Now, one of the things I liked about the first volume of this series, is that it didn’t contain any of the blatant misogyny so characteristic of Black Bird. Given that you’ve described it as a “Lite” version of that series, what should I expect? Has this changed?

MICHELLE: Oh, no, it hasn’t. I just meant you’ve got a heroine whom supernatural fellows seem to desire—though this is usually on account of her kami powers or her shrine and not because boffing her will convey some benefit—and who has yet another supernatural bishounen to protect her. Tomoe isn’t condescending towards Nanami, in fact he’s beginning to acknowledge her good qualities, and though she’s grateful for his help, it’s not in a creepy “you validate me” sort of way. I guess it’s more or less the premise that’s similar, but the character dynamics are much more tolerable in Kamisama Kiss.

MELINDA: Makes me want to pick up volumes two and three so I can catch up!

MICHELLE: You should! So, what else did you read this week?

MELINDA: Well, I also received a copy of Natsume Ono’s La Quinta Camera , due out next month. As you know, I’m a big fan of the author, so I snatched this up to read just as soon as it arrived.

La Quinta Camera (The Fifth Bedroom) peeks into the world of a five-bedroom apartment in Italy, which is occupied by four middle-aged men and a stream of disparate foreign students who temporarily occupy the apartment’s fifth room. The story begins with Charlotte, a Danish student who comes to Italy to study the language, and whose tumultuous entry into the country takes a turn for the better upon her arrival at the apartment. At first, it seems like this will be her story, but by the beginning of the second chapter, Charlotte is already moving out, and suddenly it’s obvious that the real story revolves around the apartment’s constants, rather than its revolving fifth room.

This is early Ono, and there’s no denying it. After reading later series like Ristorante Paradiso and House of Five Leaves, it’s a bit jarring to return to the simpler, less refined art style that characterized not simple. What really shows off this story’s youth, however, is its narrative shakiness. Even slice-of-life manga like this benefits from a strong thread to hold it together, and there’s not all that much here to do the trick.

That said, what is here is brilliant in its own way. Ono’s talent for quiet characterization truly shines, though perhaps even that is overshadowed by her gift for nuance, especially when it comes to human relationships. Though most of the manga’s few threads of story feel woefully underdeveloped, Ono’s characters really live here, and there’s a sense that their lives continue offscreen even as we read. Particularly compelling is the personal journey of Massimo, the apartment’s owner, whose attachment to his roommates becomes tearfully apparent by the end.

Is this my favorite of Ono’s works? No, it’s not. But it’s still Ono, and that’s worth a lot.

MICHELLE: It almost sounds like a dress rehearsal for Ristorante Paradiso, with the young woman coming to Italy to have her lives enriched by a bunch of older men. And even if it’s not Ono’s best, it’s always interesting to read an early work of such a unique creator and chart how she has grown over the years.

MELINDA: Yes, it really is wonderful to be given the opportunity to trace the evolution of her work like this. I’m so pleased Viz has been releasing so much of her work!

So, what do you bring to us as our last selection for the evening?

MICHELLE: A bit of an odd duck, I’m afraid. I’m talking about the sixth volume of Raiders, published by Yen Press, which has the distinction of being the only manhwa I’ve read that is distinctly geared for a male audience.

Raiders is set in England, and follows a young man named Irel Clark as he first discovers then drinks from a bottle containing the blood of Jesus, which renders him immortal. Also searching for this magical beverage is Lamia, a zombie hoping for a cure, and they eventually team up, with Irel serving as her food supply. By the sixth volume, Irel and Lamia have parted ways and are independently learning some shocking truths about Christianity.

There is so much that’s wrong with Raiders. The story is convoluted and difficult to follow. The same could be said of the action scenes, and the art in general is just too bright/white. It makes me wish the book came with a knob so I could adjust the picture. The breakneck pace makes each volume a breeze to read, but there’s not enough time for plot developments to sink in, and there are still characters whose names I don’t know.

Even with all of these issues, though, I don’t actually dislike Raiders. Though one is bounced between scenes without always understanding how they relate, the scenes are usually interesting enough in their own right, and gradually a picture is beginning to emerge of what the series actually is: a very cynical take on Christianity and religion as a whole. If more people were aware of Raiders, I could imagine it causing a stir with quotes like “Religious zealots are no different than gambling addicts. They are obsessed lunatics.” In the world of Raiders, Christianity is most decidedly a myth, and one created with megalomaniacal aims in mind. Irel, with his newfound immortality, presents a challenge to the man responsible, which could lead to all manner of intriguing developments.

While I can’t really recommend Raiders, therefore, I intend to keep reading it.

MELINDA: Actually, the whole religion-is-lunacy theme you’re describing here makes me feel suddenly interested in the series.

MICHELLE: I had a feeling it might. There’s a sci-fi angle to it as well, which really doesn’t make any sense at this point (and might never), but that theme is certainly what made me really sit up and take notice.

MELINDA: You know, I’d become a little jaded about zombie comics, but I think I have to give this one a look, finally.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it’s less about humans having to fend off zombie hordes than it is about zombies being bummed out about their unlives.

MELINDA: Something we can all relate to. Heh.

MICHELLE: Yeah, though I thankfully haven’t had the experience of my leg failing to reattach itself on account of being sliced by the special sword wielded by an albino vampire.

MELINDA: You haven’t? Geez, Michelle, you’re so sheltered.

MICHELLE: I should get out more.

MELINDA: Indeed.

Pick of the Week: Ooku

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It’s an incredibly rewarding week for fans of Viz’s Signature line, with new volumes of Children of the Sea, Gente, former Pick House of Five Leaves, I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow, and 20th Century Boys. Vertical has a winning week as well, with new volumes of former Picks Chi’s Sweet Home and Peepo Choo. It’s a week when one can hardly choose a single favorite, and it honestly pains me to do so.

But choose I must, so out of all that wealth, my Pick this week goes to the fifth volume of Fumi Yoshinaga’s Ooku, also from Viz’s Signature imprint.

Here’s a bit of what I had to say about the first three volumes:

In this alternate history of Edo-period Japan, an incurable disease has wiped out much of the nation’s male population, leaving women to take up traditional men’s roles, including that of shogun.

As this series is structured, its first volume begins eighty years after the disease’s initial outbreak, at which point the male population has declined by 75% and women have become firmly fixed in their new roles. The second and third volumes then return to the beginning of the outbreak, which finds the nation in a panic–desperate to maintain male rule, even to the point of delusion, if that is what is required.

This structural choice is, frankly, brilliant. By removing any real question about the outcome of events that occur during the second and third volumes, Yoshinaga allows herself (and the reader) to focus on the process, which really shows her off to her greatest advantage. Though the universe is dense and the language even more so (needlessly, to some extent, thanks to an unfortunate choice in its English adaptation), this arrangement allows for a great deal of slow, masterful character development and an emphasis on human relationships and the psychology of political theory …

As a fan of Fumi Yoshinaga, josei manga, and the Viz Signature imprint, there is no question that a series like this, even just in theory, is a very exciting work. Fortunately, this truth extends beyond the theoretical and into the actual. Ooku is beautiful, engaging, and a very exciting work indeed. It is also challenging and ambitious enough to garner some real respect for josei manga in western fandom at last. And for that, I’m truly grateful.

I have some thoughts about volume four for your perusal as well, and though I haven’t yet written up the fifth volume, I can tell you that I’m only loving this series more and more. Check it out for yourself!

Off the Shelf: Beyond the Cat Incident

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Welcome to another edition of Off the Shelf with Melinda & Michelle! I’m joined, once again, by Soliloquy in Blue‘s Michelle Smith.

This week, we talk about four fairly disparate titles from Vertical, Inc, Viz Media, and Yen Press.

MICHELLE: Well, even though it feels like Tuesday, the calendar informs me that it’s Wednesday. Which can mean only one thing!

MELINDA: Dawn’s in trouble? No, wait… I have that wrong.

MICHELLE: Haha! You have beaten me to the Buffy reference! What is the world coming to?

MELINDA: No good, no good at all!

MICHELLE: Every single week, the same arrangement, we talk about a lot of books… o/~ (There. Now I have redeemed myself.)

What’s on your plate this time?

MELINDA: Sorry to have upset the equilibrium like that right from the start. I don’t know what I was thinking. :)

So, yes, books! Well, after last week’s focus on manga for kids, I guess I must have felt the need to remember my age (or at least feel it). It’s been all dark, broody shonen and dark, thinky josei for me this week. I’ll start with the one I feel guiltiest about, volume ten of Black Jack.

I’ve had this volume for several months (with two more in the stack still waiting–hence the guilt), but despite the fact that everybody told me it would be no big deal to just jump in anywhere, “it’s totally episodic, blah blah blah,” I was determined to work my way up from the beginning (thank you, local library system), and honestly I’m glad I did. While I can see that it would not be at all difficult to catch on to the premise from any given point, there’s really so much nuance to this series, and much of that I would have missed. Even some fairly major bits of characterization go all the way back to the first volume, like the origins of Pinoko (Black Jack’s childlike companion) for one. Something like that, though it’s not essential to the plot of this volume, is still a pretty significant factor when it comes to understanding Black Jack and his general worldview.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I like to start from the beginning whenever possible, even when it isn’t absolutely necessary. Case Closed, for example, is perfectly enjoyable if one hops right in to volume 25, like I first did, but once I realized I liked the series I went back to volume 1. (Again, thank you, local library system!) …

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Ooku, Vols. 1-3

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Ooku, Vols. 1-3 | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Published by Viz Media | Rated M (Mature)

In this alternate history of Edo-period Japan, an incurable disease has wiped out much of the nation’s male population, leaving women to take up traditional men’s roles, including that of shogun.

As this series is structured, its first volume begins eighty years after the disease’s initial outbreak, at which point the male population has declined by 75% and women have become firmly fixed in their new roles. The second and third volumes then return to the beginning of the outbreak, which finds the nation in a panic–desperate to maintain male rule, even to the point of delusion, if that is what is required.

This structural choice is, frankly, brilliant. By removing any real question about the outcome of events that occur during the second and third volumes, Yoshinaga allows herself (and the reader) to focus on the process, which really shows her off to her greatest advantage. Though the universe is dense and the language even more so (needlessly, to some extent, thanks to an unfortunate choice in its English adaptation), this arrangement allows for a great deal of slow, masterful character development and an emphasis on human relationships and the psychology of political theory.

The story revolves around the workings of the Ooku, the harem of Edo Castle, in which the shogun’s wife, servants, and concubines reside. Traditionally inhabited by thousands of women, this number is shown to have been shifted to men in the first volume of this series, each bound into service of the shogun–an especially decadent arrangement in a nation with a male-female ratio of 1:4.

Though each of the series’ first three volumes focuses heavily on the lives of young men entering the Ooku (some of whom are there of their own free will, others… not so much) the overarching story is that of the evolution of a powerful female shogunate.

Volume one, the story of Mizuno, whose understated appearance catches the eye of the new, no-nonsense shogun, exhibits a rather fascinating society in which this is already firmly in place. Yet it is even more compelling to watch this society emerge, slowly and painfully, from its deep, patriarchal roots over the course of the following volumes.

It is here that Yoshinaga displays a new talent for creating cold, self-serving, and even cruel characters who are complex enough to be, not just interesting, but actually relatable. And she does it just about as far out of her comfort zone as possible.

There is nothing warm or quirky about Ooku. Life inside the shogun’s chambers is nowhere near casual or even remotely lighthearted. Even Yoshinaga’s earlier stabs at period pieces (such as Gerard & Jacques or Garden Dreams) are inappropriate for comparison, so great is the difference in weight and complexity.

With the preservation of the Tokugawa shogunate as paramount within the Inner Chambers, even the nation’s appalling health crisis can be seen in a positive light, so long as it weakens families that might otherwise represent a threat to the current government. When impoverished farmers must abandon their fields to dodge tithes they can no longer afford, make a law that binds them to the land for life. Should famine strike, offer several days of free gruel, not with the purpose of relieving hunger, but to quell the seeds of rebellion. Above all, nothing is more important than producing appropriate progeny to keep the Tokugawa family safely in power.

This is the world of the shogunate, illustrated here without nostalgia or apology, yet populated with characters Yoshinaga is able to make her readers care about and occasionally even like.

The greatest downside to this series is its English adaptation which, in an effort to create formal-sounding speech, utilizes an awkward, quasi-17th-century style (referred to among critics as “Fakespeare”).

Though I personally was able to acclimate just a few pages in, even for me this has the disadvantage of dampening what is typically my greatest joy in Yoshinaga’s writing–her glorious abundance of dialogue. As a result, though Yoshinaga is as talky as ever, much of her delightful spark is gone.

While this may be an inevitability in such a politically dense story, the characters’ stilted manner of speech makes it difficult to know for sure. That said, there is not a single moment in this series so far that has not engaged me fully–quite a feat under the circumstances.

On the other hand, Yoshinaga’s artwork is more stunning than ever, employing a level of detail in costuming and background unusual for her work, yet retaining the elegant simplicity characteristic of her clean, expressive style. Her visual storytelling here is sophisticated and straightforward, with restrained panel layouts that suit the period and setting.

As a fan of Fumi Yoshinaga, josei manga, and the Viz Signature imprint, there is no question that a series like this, even just in theory, is a very exciting work. Fortunately, this truth extends beyond the theoretical and into the actual. Ooku is beautiful, engaging, and a very exciting work indeed. It is also challenging and ambitious enough to garner some real respect for josei manga in western fandom at last. And for that, I’m truly grateful.

Review copies provided by the publisher.