Manga Bookshelf

Discussion, Resources, Roundtables, & Reviews

Seven Seas

The Wize Wize Beasts of the Wizarding Wizdoms

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“Whimsical tales of anthropomorphic beasts in love”—or so the dust jacket of The Wize Wize Beasts of the Wizarding Wizdoms promises. The eight stories in this collection do feature a race of half-animal, half-human creatures who behave like boys at a British boarding school, forming intense friendships that sometimes cross the line into romance. I’m a little reluctant to call these stories “whimsical,” however, as that word implies a certain degree of playfulness that was lacking in most of the stories, some of which were intensely sincere, and some of which raised legitimate questions about boundaries and consent.

Wize Wize Beasts unfolds at a special academy “dedicated to the study of wizardry,” where demi-humans of every imaginable type peacefully co-exist as they learn the arts of potion-making, spell-casting, and alchemy. Each story centers on a pair of opposites: prey and predator, teacher and student, mammal and reptile, smart and average. The one exception focuses on a pair of vampire bats who look and act so much alike that their classmates sometimes mistake them for identical twin brothers. Most of the stories, however, fall under the general heading of “unrequited love,” in which one demi-human pines for his opposite, but can’t muster the courage to say how he feels.

In the most enjoyable chapters—”Marley & Collette,” “Cromwell & Benjamin”—Nagabe explores the healthier side of attraction, showing how strong feelings of admiration and concern can bring out the best in friends, allowing for moments of tenderness, warmth, and emotional honesty even when the friendship remains platonic. My favorite, “Mauchly & Charles,” read like an irresistible mash-up of Winnie the Pooh and The Girl from the Other Side, focusing on a bear (Mauchly) and the human he rescued (Charles) from a dark, rainy forest. After Charles returns to his own world, he and Mauchly hold an annual reunion, using this ritual as an opportunity to reflect on what’s changed in the ensuing year. The emotional vulnerability and candor of their interactions is genuinely astonishing—not because men don’t have close friendships, but because the kind of physical intimacy and gentleness that defines Mauchly and Charles’ friendship is seldom depicted in popular culture.

The weakest stories in the collection, by contrast, often conflate possessive or coercive behavior with romantic attraction, justifying one character’s actions by suggesting his feelings were so intense that they compelled him to transgress social norms. In “Doug & Huey,” for example, a crow (Doug) carries a torch for his handsome friend Huey, who—natch—is a peacock. Though Huey spends most of his time chasing girls, Doug’s devotion to him is unwavering—so much so, in fact, that Doug sabotages Huey’s efforts to land a girlfriend so that Huey will “never be closer to someone else.” Huey, for his part, is so deeply narcissistic that he doesn’t recognize Doug’s controlling behavior, creating a deeply toxic bond between them that is presented as a simple case of unrequited love.

The issue of consent lingers over other chapters in Wize Wize Beasts as well. “Alan & Eddington,” for example, depicts the friendship between a brilliant Siamese (Alan) and a hardworking rabbit (Eddie) who’s dazzled by his classmate’s effortless mastery of complex subjects. Afraid that Alan will reject his advances, Eddie concocts and serves him a love potion. While under the influence of Alan’s spell, Eddie compels Alan to kiss him and profess his love for him—a scene that’s meant to be a little naughty, I think, but instead registers as squicky. Alan confronts Eddie about the incident, but then invites Eddie to “start over” without a magical aide, undercutting the power of his previous speech about Alan’s “cowardly” behavior.

If I was sometimes ambivalent about the content, I found Nagabe’s crisp illustrations thoroughly enchanting. His anthropomorphic character designs capture the essential animal natures of each character while retaining just enough human features for Nagabe to plausibly swathe them in flowing capes and tweedy trousers. Nagabe’s command of light, shadow, and line is superb, creating a strong sense of place without excessive reliance on screentone or tracing; his characters inhabit a well-defined world that has been vividly and imaginatively rendered on the page.

In the afterword to Wize Wize Beasts, Nagabe cheerfully jokes about “winning” readers over to his particular fandom. “I’d be deeply honored if this work exposes more people to non-human characters,” he notes. “And if you start to think, ‘Wow, non-human characters are awesome,’ go on. Get in there up to your neck.” I can’t say that Wize Wize Beasts made me a convert, but I did admire Nagabe’s creativity, sincerity, and honesty, as well as his willingness to take narrative risks that might not pay off with all readers. Your mileage may vary.

THE WIZE WIZE BEASTS OF WIZARDING WIZDOMS • STORY AND ART BY NAGABE • TRANSLATED BY ADRIENNE BECK • SEVEN SEAS • RATED TEEN • 228 pp.

PENGUINDRUM, Vol. 1

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PENGUINDRUM is an odd duck (if you’ll pardon the expression): it wants to explore difficult emotional terrain with honesty, but chooses a convoluted plot device to achieve its catharsis. The story focuses on the three Takakura siblings, who band together after the youngest is diagnosed with a terminal illness. When Himari dies during a trip to the local aquarium, a mysterious spirit brings her back to life, but with a price: Konba and Shoma must find an object called the Penguindrum or risk losing their sister again. In short order, the brothers find themselves spying on a young woman named Ringo, aided by a trio of penguins that only they can see. Ringo, for her part, is mourning the death of her sister Momoka by treating Momoka’s diary as a detailed script for how she should live her own life, going so far as to stalk one of Momoka’s teachers in an effort to keep her sister’s memory alive.

And if these developments weren’t contrived enough, PENGUINDRUM steadily introduces new characters, all of whom harbor secret, important connections with the Takakuras that are meant to illustrate the idea that fate binds us all. You’d be forgiven for not soldiering past the third or fourth chapter, however, as no one behaves like an honest-to-goodness human being, making it hard to care about what happens to Himari, or how her fragile health has affected the people around her. Not even Lily Hoshino’s stylish character designs or cute (if inscrutable) penguins can make this turkey get off the ground. Not recommended.

PENGUINDRUM, VOL. 1 • STORY BY IKUNICHAWDER • ILLUSTRATIONS BY ISUZU SHIBATA • CHARACTER DESIGNS BY LILY HOSHINO • SEVEN SEAS • 200 pp.

Become You, Vol. 1

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Ichigo Takano’s orange may be one the of best shojo manga published in the last ten years, offering readers a vivid, sympathetic portrait of five friends who get an unexpected chance to save a suicidal classmate’s life. Though orange explored dark emotional terrain, it was never mawkish; instead, orange ended on a hopeful note that showed younger readers that life goes on after tragedies big and small.

Become You, Takano’s latest series, mines a similar thematic vein, this time focusing on two emotionally damaged boys who form an improbable bond through music. And by “improbable,” I mean Taiyou and Hikari are temperamental opposites who initially seem ill-suited for friendship, let alone artistic collaboration. Taiyou is one of those only-in-manga characters whose dogged optimism shades into fanaticism—the kind of character who calls everyone his friend, and wears down skeptics with his relentless overtures. Hikari, by contrast, is a classic Character With a Secret, a former prodigy who abruptly abandoned the piano despite (or perhaps because of) his phenomenal success, keeping his classmates at bay with blunt comments. Naturally—by the immutable laws of Shojo Manga Plot Mechanics—Taiyou tries to recruit Hikari for a band, despite the fact that Taiyou is a tyro guitar player.

At first glance, Become You seems to be following a well-worn path in which an enthusiastic novice persuades a reluctant genius to mentor him, in the process drawing out his teacher and helping his teacher recover something that he lost—say, his joy in playing the tuba, or his relationship with an estranged family member. But Takano adds an interesting wrinkle to this familiar plotline: midway through volume one, we learn that Taiyou originally wanted to be an artist, but lost his desire to paint after being bullied by a teacher. In the aftermath of this encounter, what Taiyou really wants is to be good at something—anything, really—and will work diligently towards achieving that goal, even if he shows little or no aptitude for his chosen pursuit. Equally important, Taiyou is just as emotionally vulnerable as his would-be mentor, even though Taiyou papers over his anguish with bright smiles and cheerful comments.

As with orange, a magical plot device brings Become You‘s principal characters together–in this case, a mysterious cloaked figure who presents Taiyou with an electric guitar and words of Yoda-like encouragement. It’s not entirely clear if Taiyou is fantasizing or having a premonition, since his guardian angel looks an awful lot like Hikari. And while the ambiguity of these scenes has little impact on the reading experience, they occupy more space than the time-traveling letters did in orange—a mistake, I think, because Taiyou’s daydreams don’t add any special urgency or poignancy to the story. By contrast, orange‘s letters served a twofold purpose, setting the plot in motion and highlighting all the small ways that innocent comments or decisions could hurt someone as fragile as the suicidal Kakeru.

The other drawback to Become You is that Takano doesn’t seem to know much about music. Taiyou, for example, cheerfully states his intention to attend a “music college,” but lacks the rudimentary skills to play in sync with a metronome or sight-read sheet music. (He also seems blissfully unaware that conservatories require an entrance audition.) The concert sequences are similarly revealing: though Takano draws attractive, animated characters, and can put them through their emotional paces, she struggles to make Taiyou and Hikari’s musical performances come to life on the page, either by showing the physical effort necessary to making a sound—embouchure, hand position, posture—or by drawing convincing crowd shots that convey the impact of the music on listeners.

I’m not ready to give up on Become You just yet, however, as Takano has something worthwhile to say about pursuing activities for emotional fulfillment, rather than for personal achievement. She also explores the idea of artistic mentorship with honesty, acknowledging that the teacher-student relationship can have a profound effect on how a young artists finds his voice; any violation of that compact—an unkind comment, a dogged insistence on doing things the “right” way—can leave deep scars and stunt one’s artistic growth. Here’s hoping volume two strikes a better balance between the magical realism and the realities of being a musician. Tentatively recommended.

BECOME YOU, VOL. 1 • STORY & ART BY ICHIGO TANAKA • TRANSLATED BY AMBER TAMOSAITIS • SEVEN SEAS • RATED TEEN • 200 pp.

Beasts of Abigaile Vol. 4

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Beasts of Abigaile Volume 4 by Spica Aoki

I hadn’t realized that Beasts of Abigaile was only 4 volumes long, and I’m guessing that the mangaka wasn’t planning on the series wrapping up so quickly either, based on the sheer amount of backstory and exposition crammed into one volume. Still, the story does end on a satisfying note, although I would have been fine to see the series get stretched out to 5 or 6 volumes in order to be able to spend more time with the supporting cast.

Nina’s been captured and her secret of being a human at the werewolf academy on the island of Abigaile is threatened with exposure! She encounters a chained-up Giles, who fills in some of the details about the manipulation of Angelica the student body president who is nursing a special hatred for Nina. Nina is determined to be a force for good at the academy after hearing more about how its potential has been subverted by the school administrators. Roy is on his way to rescue Nina when she flies in with a high kick and they take off and hide in rose bushes to escape. One of the things that I like about this series is that for all of Roy’s alpha male blustering, Nina often manages to rescue herself through sheer determination.

On the way to the resolution of the series, the reader learns about Nina’s secret past, Roy and Giles’ secret past, and Nina comes to realize exactly what her own feelings are. There are some spectacular revelations and many panels of people staring intensely through jail bars. While this volume suffered a bit from too much story being crammed into a few short chapters, overall Beasts of Abigaile was a fun to read breezy paranormal shoujo series that I enjoyed. I hope it did well enough for Seven Seas that they continue to publish the occasional shoujo manga, as I like to see shoujo coming here from a variety of Japanese publishers.

Versailles of the Dead, Vol. 1

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Kumiko Suekane’s Versailles of the Dead feels like a kissing cousin of Seth Grahame-Smith’s Pride & Prejudice & Zombies. It’s a clever and handsomely drawn manga that also inserts zombies into a well-known story for shock value: who knew the real cause of the French Revolution was an outbreak of “resurrection illness”? The net result, however, is so intentionally kitschy that it sometimes holds the reader at arm’s length, inviting us to appreciate the imagination and research that went into creating Versailles of the Dead without fully drawing us into the story.

You might reasonably think that the zombies were Versailles of the Dead’s most gonzo element, but you’d be wrong: it’s actually Suekane’s decision to invent a sibling for Marie Antoinette. This sibling — a twin brother named Albert — is Marie’s doppelgänger, a handsome lad with the same high cheekbones and pert nose as his infamous sister. En route to Marie’s nuptials, their carriage is ambushed by zombies, forcing Albert to impersonate his sister after she meets a gruesome end. Albert’s identity is quickly discovered by a handful of courtiers, all of whom are invested enough in preserving the status quo at Versailles that they conspire to look the other way, even when rumors surface that Albert beheaded his own sister.

Watching Albert step into the role of Dauphine is fun; he embraces the opportunity to manipulate courtiers through gossip and flirtation, exploiting rivalries within the court to his own advantage. The supernatural interludes, by contrast, sometimes feel like an afterthought, rather than a vital part of the story. Though the zombies are handled in a straightforward fashion, Suekane relies too much on flash-booms, jump cuts, and smudgy silhouettes to imply that certain members of the French court are possessed. Suggestion is an important tool for generating suspense, of course, but here it feels like a half-baked effort at world-building — what if there were demons in eighteenth century France, too? Not everything needs to be explained in a baldly literal fashion, of course, but the demonic angle feels like one accessory too many on a busy outfit.

If the supernatural intrigue is more afterthought than essential element, the artwork is sumptuous, capturing the opulence of Versailles without overwhelming the reader. Suekane’s secret? Lavishing attention on character designs rather than material objects, allowing the intricacy of the hairstyles, gowns, and frock coats to be the focal point of most panels. That approach gives her breathing room to draw the kind of subtle but important details that help establish the characters’ true natures. Albert, for example, never fully disappears into his sister’s clothes and wigs; the twinkle in his eye and the boldness of his carriage are conspicuous signs of his male upbringing, even though he looks ravishing as a woman. Other characters’ personalities are just as thoughtfully embodied through costume and movement. Madame du Barry, the Dauphine’s great rival, makes a dramatic display of her décolletage, framing her chest in a wreath of feathers that accentuate du Barry’s mature womanhood — a not-so-subtle attempt to assert her power and experience over a teenage interloper.

It’s this level of thoughtfulness that helped me soldier through the more clumsy parts of the story, where characters solemnly explain why Albert’s marriage must go forward for “the good of our two countries,” and Madame du Barry thinks in complete Wikipedia paragraphs. (Her internal monologues are surprisingly dull for such a canny strategist.) I’m not sure that all of the plot lines will eventually converge in a satisfying way — there’s a lot of supernatural silliness — but I find Albert a compelling character, a skilled political operator who revels in his ability to sow discord. Count me in for volume two.

VERSAILLES OF THE DEAD, VOL. 1 • STORY & ART BY KUMIKO SUEKANE • TRANSLATION BY JOCELYNE ALLEN • SEVEN SEAS • RATED TEEN (PARTIAL NUDITY, MILD GORE, VIOLENCE)  172 pp.

Cutie Honey A Go-Go

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Cutie Honey a Go Go! is not a conventionally good manga: the plot is riddled with holes, the story lacks a proper conclusion, and the characters are paper-thin. Yet for all its obvious limitations, Cutie Honey a Go Go! is cheeky fun in the manner of an Austin Powers movie; it’s a cartoon of a cartoon, an irreverent send-up of the source material that simultaneously captures the original manga’s naughty tone while updating the plot and characters for contemporary readers.

Cutie Honey a Go Go! borrows liberally from Hideaki Anno’s 2004 film and Go Nagai’s original 1973 manga, mixing elements of both with a few new flourishes. In Cutie Honey a Go Go!, for example, Aki Natsuko is no longer a blushing school girl with a crush on her android sempai, but a hard-charging special agent who faces down danger with the brash confidence of a Harrison Ford character. Aki and Cutie’s arch nemesis Sister Jill has likewise gotten a makeover, from whip-wielding bad girl to wicked android intent on world domination. The signature elements of Nagai’s original story remain intact, however: Cutie Honey is still an impossibly innocent, cheerful android whose clothing dissolves to tatters every time she powers up, and her main opponents are the Panther Claw ladies, a group of monstrous beauties who work for Sister Jill.

Though manga-ka Shimpei Itoh’s action scenes are clumsy, his character designs are a playful nod to the era that begat Cutie Honey, straddling the fence between retro and modern. The Panther Claw gang look like Betty Paige cosplayers, busty gals in barely-there costumes that feature leopard spots and extra arms, while Cutie Honey rocks her signature pixie cut and a backless jumpsuit that David Lee Roth might have worn in 1984. It’s hard to be offended by the T&A, though, since Cutie Honey a Go Go! resembles a 1962 issue of Playboy more than a volume of Air Gear; there’s a pin-up coyness about Itoh’s cheesecake that renders these images benign. It’s also difficult to be offended by a manga that works so hard to entertain the reader with its anything-for-a-laugh jokes, over-the-top battle sequences, and campy dialogue. I found its unironic goofiness charming — costume failures and all — and think you might, too. Recommended.

Cutie Honey a Go Go!
Original Story by Go Nagai; Story & Art by Shimpei Itoh; Planning Cooperation by Hideaki Anno
Translated by Zack Davisson and Adrienne Beck
Seven Seas, 400 pp.
Rated T, for Teen (Nudity and bloodless violence)

The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Vol. 4

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The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún was one of 2017’s surprise hits, an emotionally wrenching fantasy manga about a demon who rescues an orphan girl from a plague-ridden world. Nagabe’s art — with its graceful linework and unique character designs — was enough to distinguish Girl from the Other Side from virtually any other series licensed by a major American publisher. But it was the characters and the poignancy of their relationship that truly captivated readers, as the bond between Teacher (the demon) and Shiva (the girl) was tested by Shiva’s ties to the human world, particularly her attachment to the aunt who raised her — and then abandoned her in the woods. Four volumes in, Girl from the Other Side is still casting a powerful spell, even as the story takes another grim turn.

As the volume opens, Teacher, Shiva, and Auntie have formed an uneasy family unit, with Shiva desperate to broker the peace between her adoptive parents. Nagabe does a fine job of dramatizing the conflict between Teacher and Auntie without spoiling the quiet mood of the story, using small gestures to convey how desperately each wants to protect Shiva from the human world. Nagabe also includes a handful of scenes that chart the progress of Auntie’s disease, showing us how quickly the curse erases a victim’s memory and personality — a development that raises the interesting question of who Teacher was before he assumed his demonic form.

Perhaps the most striking aspect of volume four is how much of the characters’ interior lives are revealed through the artwork. In the first chapter, for example, Teacher and Auntie slip into the woods for a nighttime conference about Shiva. Each carries a lantern as they walk and talk — two pinpoints of light against a scrim of trees — their conversation ending when Auntie’s lantern flickers out, leaving her and Teacher side by side in darkness. What makes this sequence so effective is the deliberate placement of the characters on the page and the meticulous attention to lighting; Nagabe has found an elegant — and wordless — way to demonstrate the characters’ shared resolve to protect Shiva, even though they remain suspicious of one another. Such carefully observed moments are a potent reminder that The Girl from the Other Side is an all-too-rare example of a manga whose story engages the heart and mind by suggesting, rather than saying, what the characters are feeling. Recommended.

The Girl From the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Vol. 4
Art and Story by Nagabe
Translated by Adrienne Beck
Seven Seas, 180 pp.

Giant Spider & Me, Vol. 1

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Giant Spider & Me is a gentle fantasy that’s tinged with whimsy and rue. The story focuses on Nagi, a perky tween who lives by herself in a well-appointed cottage, awaiting the return of her father from a mysterious trip. In his absence, she’s proved remarkably self-sufficient, growing and foraging for her own food and preparing delicious meals for herself. Our first hint that something is amiss occurs early in chapter one, when she stumbles across a mastiff-sized spider in the woods. Their initial encounter doesn’t go well — Nagi is understandably terrified — but her apprehension soon gives way to a unique interspecies friendship when she discovers Asa (her name for the spider) shares her passion for pumpkin dumplings and leisurely picnics.

What inoculates Giant Spider & Me from a terminal case of the cutes is the specificity of Kikori Morino’s vision. On a superficial level, Giant Spider & Me is a culinary manga that walks the reader through the process of making turnip soup and miso ratatouille while conveying the joy of sharing food with others. (And yes, recipes appear at the end of each chapter.) On a deeper level, however, Giant Spider & Me is a thoughtful reflection on what it means to share your home with an intelligent creature, recognizing the pleasures of such an arrangement while acknowledging the communication gap between species. Asa proves a lively and willful guest in Nagi’s house, scaling walls and punching a hole in the roof in its quest for greater freedom — a detail that frustrated cat owners will appreciate.

The other secret to Morino’s success is her artwork, which strikes an elegant balance between clarity and detail. She never explains what caused the apocalypse of the title, but hints at its devastation with small but important clues: a partially submerged city, a vigilante in a gas mask and military-issue poncho. Morino applies that same mixture of restraint and exactitude to her character designs; Asa is both menacing and cute, an eight-eyed, eight-legged creature whose terrible mandibles are balanced by a feather-soft abdomen and a puppy-like demeanor. By emphasizing Asa’s duality as pet and monster, Morino helps us see Asa as Nagi does while also helping us understand why other survivors take a dimmer view of Asa. Something tells me I might need a tissue or two before the series finishes its run. Recommended.

Giant Spider & Me: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale, Vol. 1
Story & Art by Kikori Morino
Translation by Adrienne Beck; Adaptation by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane
Seven Seas, 180 pp.
Rating: Teen

Beasts of Abigaile Vol. 2

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Beasts of Abigaile Volume 2 by Spica Aoki

I enjoyed the first volume of this series more than I was expecting to, so I was hoping that the second volume would deliver more paranormal romance trashy fun, and I was not disappointed. Nina continues to attempt to survive her undercover existence at werewolf school, ending up with more power and influence than anyone would have predicted.

Towards the end of the first volume, Nina takes an interest in Poe, a somewhat non-verbal artist who as an Omega, gets picked on by the rest of the students and the instructors. Nina is unhappy about the unsanctioned fight clubs that put students up against real live wolfs. Meanwhile, Roy and mean girl Eva seem to be having some significant fractures in their relationship, as Roy continues to find Nina fascinating, and Eva lurks in the bushes like a lupine Maleficent, spying on her possible female rival. Nina wants to let Poe into her pack, the White Rose Maiden Association, but the art kids that she hangs out with don’t want their status to drop by taking him in. They’d also be put in a position of danger in needing to defend him against other students as well. Eventually the situation boils over and Nina impetuously volunteers to take Poe’s place in the fight club. She declares herself Poe’s Alpha and says that she’ll fight all his battles for him. While Nina’s karate skills come in handy, she’s eventually rescued by Giles, who always seems to be around when she needs him.

This volume filled in a little bit of the backstory, both with Nina’s past history with bullying that makes her a relentless advocate for the downtrodden, and also some of the history of the school and why Poe has been placed in such a lowly position. Roy continues to be a total jerk, and I’m hoping that Nina doesn’t end up with him in the end, but with the way shoujo manga tends to go I’m guessing Nina’s influence will change him from being a terrible person. The art in this series continues to be well-executed, even if it doesn’t have a very distinct style. I’m still enjoying this series, but I tend to be a bit of an easy mark for supernatural shoujo.

Yokai Rental Shop, Vol. 1

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Yokai Rental Shop is a classic example of Monkey Paw Theater, in which a foolish person comes into possession of a magical object, uses said object to grant an ill-advised wish, then pays a terrible price for his rash decision. Author Shin Mashiba puts a Japanese spin on W.W. Jacob’s famous story, substituting a nekomata and an okuri-inu for a cursed paw, but otherwise conforms the tenets of the genre. The clientele of Pet Shop Crow seek quick or unwise solutions to everyday problems: one mourns the untimely demise of her favorite idol, another dreads his daily encounter with bullies, and a third worries that her younger sister is trying to steal her boyfriend. To help each client “solve” her problem, shop owner Karasu rents them an exotic pet with special abilities. That pet comes with specific instructions — defy them and the deal goes sideways, resulting in bodily harm or emotional trauma.

I liked this story better when it was called Pet Shop of Horrors.

Part of the problem is that Karasu’s clientele is an unsympathetic lot, especially when contrasted with the characters in “The Monkey’s Paw” or Pet Shop of Horrors. The bullying victim, for example, is so enraptured by his yokai companion’s powers that he explicitly ignores Karasu’s instructions, fantasizing about how he will utilize his new-found strength. Within two pages, however, he realizes the folly of his arrogance, as the okuri-inu metamorphoses into a canid Godzilla with a taste for human flesh. Only a quick intervention from Karasu prevents the chapter from devolving into a gruesome spectacle, though you may wish that Karasu had adopted a more laissez-faire attitude towards his foolish client.

The other major issue plaguing Yokai Rental Shop is that Mashiba doesn’t stick with the monster-of-the-week formula for long. A subplot involving Karasu and his half-brother Hiiragi, a fussy civil servant, takes a detour into InuYasha territory when Karasu makes an important discovery about their father. Mashiba tries milking the brothers’ temperamental differences for laughs, but the jokes don’t land with much force; if you’ve seen one episode of The Odd Couple or read a chapter of xxxHolic, you’ve seen this dynamic executed with more gusto and imagination, two qualities that Yokai Rental Shop sorely lacks.

Neither of these deficiencies would be so glaring if the artwork was less perfunctory, but Mashiba’s serviceable character designs and settings do little to imbue the story with its own identity. The shop’s clientele, in particular, are blandly interchangeable; they look like they belong in a government-issue manga about tax returns or recycling, lacking the kind of individuality that might highlight the poignancy of their dilemmas or underscore just how determined they are to get what they want. Even the “turn” in each story — in which the yokai reveal their true natures — is executed in get-the-job-done manner, relying too much on dialogue, smudgy screentone, and slashing lines to suggest what’s happening.

By skimping on these moments, Mashiba misses a crucial opportunity to make the reader feel pity, revulsion, satisfaction, or fear at the outcome of each story; the strongest reaction that any of these scenarios elicits is a shrug of the shoulders. The reader is left wondering why the author even bothered with the horror angle when her true objective seems to be writing a dramedy about a Mutt-and-Jeff pair of brothers—albeit eccentric ones.

YOKAI RENTAL SHOP, VOL. 1 • BY SHIN MASHIBA • TRANSLATED BY AMANDA HALEY, ADAPTED BY JULIA KINSMAN • SEVEN SEAS ENTERTAINMENT • RATED TEEN

After Hours and My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness

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After Hours and My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness epitomize a small but growing trend in yuri manga licensing: both focus on women in their twenties exploring their sexuality, rather than depicting middle- or high-school aged girls crushing on each other.

After Hours is the more upbeat of the two, a sympathetic portrait of twenty-three-year-old Emi, a recent college graduate who’s just quit her job and is struggling to figure out what comes next. A chance encounter with Kei, a twenty-nine-year-old deejay, is a turning point in Emi’s young adult life: not only is she drawn to Kei’s confidence, she’s also intrigued by Kei’s passion for spinning records. As their connection deepens, Emi takes a more active role in supporting Kei’s career, joining Kei’s circle of friends and trying her hand at “veejaying,” selecting videos to complement Kei’s set lists.

One of the most striking aspects of After Hours is Yuhta Nishio’s sensitive depiction of Emi and Kei’s sexual encounters. He uses a handful of discrete signifiers — a pile of clothing on the floor, a tender embrace, a flirtatious post-coital chat — rather than explicit or provocative imagery. That’s a wise choice, I think, as it allows Nishio to portray Emi and Kei as grown women with healthy sexual urges without reducing them to sexualized objects. Nishio’s restrained approach also emphasizes the aspects of Emi and Kei’s bodily intimacy that foster a mutual sense of trust, familiarity, and affection — a dimension of sexual experience that’s often missing from straight romance manga.

Though the first chapters are largely uneventful, future volumes promise dramatic complications. Emi has yet to disclose her relationship to her friends or her not-quite-ex-boyfriend, with whom she’s still sharing an apartment. More interestingly, Emi hasn’t really thought about what it means to be in a relationship with another woman; she’s initially surprised by her attraction to Kei, but resists labeling those feelings as lesbian, bisexual, or queer, choosing instead to savor the sense of purpose and joy that being with Kei brings to her life. The ease with which Emi embraces her new love is a refreshing development, a quiet rebuttal of the idea that sexual orientation is absolute or easily defined.

By contrast, Nagata Kabi’s My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is a more complex story, a confessional comic documenting the author’s sexual awakening in her late twenties. Nagata narrates her odyssey with candor, acknowledging the degree to which mental illness dictated her adult life. She describes the bodily ravages of disordered eating — she vacillated between anoxeria and bulimia — and the emotional toll of disordered thinking, noting the degree to which both depression and body dysmorphia prevented her from holding down a job, maintaining friendships, or thinking about herself as a sexual person. She also ruminates on her chilly relationship with her parents, and her profound sense of shame in disappointing them by not becoming a “real” adult with a conventional office job.

After hitting rock bottom, Nagata realizes the degree to which she’s suppressed her sexuality. In an effort to reassert control over her life, Nagata decides to hire a female escort for her first sexual experience. Nagata documents this encounter in an almost clinical fashion, contrasting her feverish anticipation with her stiff, detached response to being touched. For all of her progress towards mental health and self-acceptance, she realizes that she cannot yet surrender to the bodily sensations of desire — a tension that remains unresolved at the end of her narrative, even though Nagata’s final panels suggest her sense of relief and pride for taking such a bold step.

That Nagata’s journey is more inspiring than depressing is a testament to her writing skills (and, I might add, Jocelyne Allen’s artfully wry translation). Though Nagata never shies away from describing uncomfortable thoughts or self-destructive behavior, she finds moments of grace and humor in even the darkest situations, especially as she begins to contemplate what it means to be a sexual person. In three sharp, economical panels, for example, she explores her profound discomfort with binary gender labels, even as she begins to recognize her sexual attraction to women:

It feels churlish to criticize such a personal work, and yet I found myself wishing that Nagata’s art felt more essential to the story she was telling. Writing for The Comics Journal, critic Katie Skelly voiced similar concerns, arguing that Nagata’s tendency to mix big blocks of text with cute drawings keeps the reader at arm’s length when Nagata discloses intimate, sometimes disturbing, details of her eating disorders and self-mutilation. “Nagata can’t find a suitable bridge to mend the gap between the story of her experience and aesthetic,” Skelly notes. “[H]er style can read as generic and her tone never quite finds its mark.” I admit to feeling the same way about Nagata’s work: I admired her raw honesty, but felt that My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness could have been a book, a movie, or a Moth Radio Hour segment just as easily as a comic; nothing about the way Nagata related her experiences felt like it was uniquely suited to manga, as her drawings were more illustrative of what she felt than genuinely revelatory about why she felt such profound self-loathing.

For all the things that go unsaid in My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness, however, there’s much wisdom in Nagata’s story, especially for people struggling with what it means to be healthy, whole, and sexual. Nagata’s recovery is a testament to the human capacity for resilience, and her willingness to share her most vulnerable moments with strangers an act of genuine courage. Here’s hoping that she continues to document her journey of self-discovery.

VIZ Media provided a complimentary review copy of After Hours.

AFTER HOURS • STORY AND ART BY YUHTA NISHIO • TRANSLATION BY ABBY LEHRKE • 160 pp. • RATED TEEN+ (for older teens)

MY LESBIAN EXPERIENCE WITH LONELINESS • STORY AND ART BY NAGATA KABI • TRANSLATED BY JOCELYNE ALLEN • SEVEN SEAS • 152 pp. • RATED OT (for older teens)

The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Vol. 1

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The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Volume 1Creator: Nagabe
Translator: Adrienne Beck
Adapter: Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane
U.S. publisher: Seven Seas
ISBN: 9781626924673
Released: January 2017
Original run: 2016

The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún by Nagabe was easily one of my most anticipated manga debuts of 2017. Nagabe is known as a creator of somewhat unusual or unorthodox manga, The Girl form the Other Side easily fitting into that category. (Nagabe’s work was actually first brought to my attention thanks to a series of beautifully drawn boys’ love doujinshi featuring birds.) The first volume of The Girl from the Other Side was originally published in Japan in 2016, while the English-language edition was released by Seven Seas early in 2017. The quality of the physical release is admittedly a little disappointing–the cover stock feels ephemeral and ink tends to smudge and transfer between pages (granted, this does at least seem to be thematically appropriate)–but I’m thrilled that The Girl from the Other Side is being translated at all. It’s also worth noting that the manga does share some obvious parallels with another unusual series, Kore Yamazaki’s The Ancient Magus’ Bride, but even considering their similarities they are quite different from each another.

Once upon a time, two kingdoms existed in a world divided into the Outside and the Inside. Humans live on the Inside behind a wall intended to keep the monstrous Outsiders and the dark curse associated with them at bay. Coming into contact with an Outsider is to be avoided at all costs; to do otherwise means risking ones’ life and humanity. But the darkness of the Outside is slowly encroaching upon the light of the Inside. Humans are succumbing to a cursed disease and are abandoning entire villages as they unsuccessfully try to flee from it. Out of fear and suspicion, people have started to turn against one another in a desperate effort to survive. In the midst of this turmoil is a young girl, Shiva. Unexpectedly left behind in an area which is now considered a part of the Outside, she is waiting to be reunited with her family. In a peculiar twist of fate, Shiva is being guarded and cared for by an inhuman Outsider who she simply calls “Teacher.” The circumstances are unusual and dangerous for them both as Shiva’s safety becoming more and more difficult to guarantee the longer she remains on the Outside, set apart from others.

The Girl from the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Volume 1, page 32The fact that Shiva’s very life is in danger is clear from the beginning of The Girl from the Other Side. As a sort of prologue, the manga opens with her being warned of the curse brought by the touch of an Outsider while the first panel of the story-proper shows her lying listless on the stump of a tree. She has only fallen asleep, but the visual cues of the scene are closely reminiscent of death. An ominous feeling of uncertainty–is Shiva actually alive or is she dead, how much of her world is real and how much of it is a fairytale–pervades The Girl from the Other Side. Shiva is young enough that she doesn’t completely understand everything that is happening to her and doesn’t know enough to be afraid. But as she experiences more her awareness grows, even when Teacher tries to shield her from life’s harsher realities. Likewise, readers gain more knowledge as the underlying truths of Shiva’s situation are slowly revealed. However, they don’t have Teacher to soften the blows for them. To some extent Shiva’s innocence protects her from the tragedy and heartbreak inherent to The Girl from the Other Side which is so obvious from an outside perspective.

The Girl from the Other Side is incredibly atmospheric, a beautiful and surprisingly gentle and charming story which simultaneously manages to be disconcerting and unsettling. The series is very dark, in both theme and illustration. There is a tremendous amount of ink on the manga’s pages–the oppressive shadow of death which haunts the story is reinforced visually, the darkness permeating the scenes. Shiva, with her light-colored hair and dressed in white, stands apart from the unwelcoming environment. She is obviously out of place, separate from what is around her. In contrast, Teacher is clothed in black and at times is barely discernible from the background. But although an Outsider and demonic in form, Teacher is Shiva’s only hope, trying to safeguard her from anyone who would seek to do her harm. Their strange yet sweet and endearing relationship is core to The Girl on the Other Side. The life that they have, no matter how impermanent, carries great weight as they face an uncertain future together. The Girl from the Other Side is a gorgeous and striking work; I can’t wait for the next volume to be released.

The Girl From the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún, Vol. 1

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On the surface, The Girl From the Other Side: Siúil, a Rún looks like a fairy tale. It unfolds in a long-ago, far-away place governed by one simple rule: humans and Outsiders must never cross paths. The principal characters are Shiva, a young girl, and Teacher, an Outsider who adopted Shiva after finding her alone in the woods. At first glimpse, their situation seems idyllic, two opposites living harmoniously in a charming little cottage — that is, until the human and demon worlds take interest in Shiva, testing Teacher’s commitment to protecting her.

Probe a little deeper, however, and it becomes clear that the manga’s nuanced characterizations elevate Shiva and Teacher from fairy tale archetypes to fully realized characters. Shiva, for example, talks and acts like a real six-year-old, toggling between moments of impetuousness and thoughtfulness. Though she is obviously fond of Teacher, she fantasizes about a reunion with her aunt, fervent in her desire to rejoin the human world. Shiva has an inkling that Teacher might be “sad” if she left, but she cannot fully appreciate his anguish over their possible separation. (Translator Adrienne Beck and adaptor Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane deserve special mention for voicing Shiva’s dialogue with naturalism; Shiva never sounds older or wiser than her years.)

The sophisticated artwork, too, plays an important role in transporting the reader to a specific place and time, rather than simply “long ago.” Nagabe’s elegant pen and ink drawings demonstrate a superb command of light; using washes and cross-hatching, she evokes a world lit by fire, where the glow of a candle casts a small spell against the darkness, and monsters lurk in the shadows. Her figure drawings are likewise strong, neatly conveying the characters’ personalities in a few well-chosen details. Teacher, for example, is a clever amalgamation of animal and demon parts. His most menacing features — his mouthless face and piercing eyes — are tempered by the way he carries himself; he’s fastidious in his movements and dress, gliding through the woods with the graceful, upright posture of a dancer.

Lest The Girl From the Other Side sound mawkish or precious, the brisk pacing and crisp dialogue prevent the story from sagging under the poignancy of the characters’ dilemma. It’s perhaps a little early to nominate it for a “Best of 2017” award, but this promising first volume demonstrates a level of craft, imagination, and restraint that’s sorely lacking in many fantasy manga. Highly recommended.

THE GIRL FROM THE OTHER SIDE: SIUIL, A RUN, VOL. 1 • BY NAGABE • SEVEN SEAS • RATING: ALL AGES

The Best and Worst Manga of 2015

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After a two-year hiatus from blogging, I donned my critic’s cap again in 2015. I’ve enjoyed writing my quasi-weekly column, but composing a year-end list reminded me why I stepped off the reviewing treadmill in 2012: mediocre books! This year yielded a veritable bumper crop of so-so manga, titles that were competently executed but otherwise unmemorable thanks to an abundance of generic characters, cliché settings, and predictable plot twists; you’d be forgiven for feeling that you’d read many of 2015’s debuts before, even if the artists were new to the US market.

Lurking among the paint-by-number romances and boy-saves-world titles, however, were a few gems. I’ve done my best to highlight the titles that made me feel something, whether that feeling was love, hate, or a mixture of both. To that end, I’ve included my nominees for the worst manga of 2015 alongside the books that made me laugh and cry.

Yowamushi-Pedal-Volume-1Best New Series: Yowamushi Pedal
By Wataru Watanabe • Yen Press
You know the rap on sports manga: American readers won’t buy it, and don’t like it. Yowamushi Pedal might just change that, however, thanks to a story that plays well across the nerd-jock divide. Onoda, the hero, is a self-professed otaku whose weekly bike rides into Akihabara have transformed him into a secret Lance Armstrong clone. Though Onoda wants to revive his school’s anime club, his amazing hill-climbing skills and stamina get noticed by more seasoned riders, all of whom convince Onoda to join the cycling team. The series’ races are nail-biting, page-turning affairs, but it’s the in-between stuff that makes Yowamushi Pedal work. Onoda doesn’t just discover a new skill; he discovers a community of people who share his passion for riding and respect his talent. In short, Yowamushi Pedal is a coming-of-age story in which a bike becomes the nerdy hero’s vehicle—pun intended—for self-actualization.

One-Punch ManBest New Shonen Series: One-Punch Man
By ONE and Yusuke Murata • VIZ Media
One-Punch Man is the ultimate have-your-cake-and-eat-it-too manga. On the surface, it’s an affectionate spoof of shonen clichés that pokes fun at goofy costumes, over-the-top training sessions, and speech-prone villains. On a deeper level, however, One-Punch Man is a great adventure series about an ordinary but strong-willed individual who sets out to rid his city of monsters, only to discover that there’s a much greater threat to mankind than the lobster-men and were-lions that roam the streets. The result is a sincere, gut-bustingly funny manga that reads like a Silver Age superhero comic, splats and all.

Horimiya_cover1Best New Romance Manga: Horimiya
By Hero and Daisuke Hagiwara • Yen Press
Horimiya is one of 2015’s most pleasant surprises, a teen rom-com that avoids cliché situations by focusing on the characters’ lives outside school. At first glance, its lead characters look like opposites: Kyouko is the class queen, while Izumi is a quiet loner. When they bump into each other off campus, however, they quickly realize they have more in common than their carefully constructed identities would suggest–a realization that leads to friendship and flirtation. In less imaginative hands, Kyouko and Izumi’s budding romance would be subjected to endless tests–school plays, beach trips, hot transfer students–but the authors resist the urge to trot out these over-used scenarios, relying instead on more ordinary settings for comedic (and dramatic) grist. It’s the perfect antidote to the wacky misunderstandings that drive the plots of Cactus’ Secret, Special A, and a dozen similar titles.

Cat_DiaryBest New Gag Manga: Junji Ito’s Cat Diary: Yon & Mu
By Junji Ito • Kodansha Comics
Draw a Venn diagram that shows the overlap between Junji Ito fans and cat lovers, and you’ve found the small but perfect audience for Junji Ito’s Cat Diary, a collection of anecdotes about Ito’s beloved pets Yon and Mu. Though the manga’s jokes explore familiar terrain, Ito’s exaggerated reaction shots are priceless, capturing the mixture of love and disgust that cats inspire in their owners. (Imagine Edvard Munch drawing a gag manga about cats, and you get the general idea.) Ito is refreshingly honest about the way animals change the dynamic between people, too; in some of the manga’s most memorable scenes, Ito and his fiancée compete fiercely for their cats’ affection, plying Yon and Mu with toys, treats, and cuddles. Though the prevailing tone is campy, Ito’s obvious affection for his cats helps prevents the Diary from becoming too arch.

ludwig_kansiBest Historic Title: Ludwig B.
By Osamu Tezuka • DMP, Inc.
Left unfinished at the time of Osamu Tezuka’s death, Ludwig B. is a fictionalized biography of Beethoven. Tezuka only completed two volumes, but oh, those two volumes! Tezuka draws evocative scenes of Beethoven at the keyboard, using striking visual metaphors to convey the sound of Beethoven’s music. Tezuka also does a good job of capturing the dynamic between Beethoven and his father, revealing the extent to which Johann’s drinking, gambling, and stage-parenting cast a long shadow over Beethoven’s adult life. Purists should note that Tezuka takes frequent liberties with the historical record, creating a mustache-twirling villain named Franz Kreuzstein to serve as a foil for the young, determined Beethoven. If you’re not offended by such creative license, however, Ludwig B. offers an interesting glimpse into Beethoven’s development as a composer, and Tezuka’s lifelong fascination with Beethoven.

planetesBest Reprint Edition: Planetes
By Makoto Yukimura • Dark Horse
Listen up, manga publishers: if you’re going to do a new edition of a fan favorite, Dark Horse’s two-volume omnibus of Planetes is a swell example of how to do it right. The story has a crisp new translation, full-color pages, and a bigger trim size that gives Makoto Yukimura’s artwork room to stretch out. Better still, the new edition collects more chapters in each volume, allowing newcomers to read far enough into Planetes for Yukimura’s episodic character studies to gel into a more coherent story about space travel and social inequality; by the time newbies reach the end of volume one, they’ll be hooked, too.

sakamotoBest Manga I Thought I’d Hate: Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto
By Nami Sano • Seven Seas
In theory, Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto is a one-note samba: the titular character is handsome, good at everything, and unfailingly logical in all situations. In practice, however, Haven’t You Heard? is the Goldberg Variations of gag manga, taking stock scenes and putting a bizarre twist on them. The secret? Sakamoto is just a little too perfect, behaving more like a well-programmed android than a flesh-and-blood person. His peculiar brand of sangfroid confounds enemies and admirers alike; no one can decide if he’s cool or crazy, or where his loyalties might lie, making it impossible to predict how he’ll respond to each new challenge.

jojo_phantom_blood1Worst Manga I Thought I’d Love: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, Part 1: Phantom Blood
By Hirohito Araki • VIZ Media
At the risk of becoming the Armond White of manga critics, I’m nominating Hirohito Araki’s bone-crunching, chest-thumping saga for Most Exhausting New Series of 2015. That’s because Phantom Blood is a prime example of all-caps theater, the sort of manga in which every word balloon is filled with emphatic punctuation, and every plot twist seems like the brainchild of six teenage boys hopped up on Mountain Dew. In small doses, this more-is-more approach to storytelling can be amusing, but in longer installments, the cumulative effect of so much narrative excess is numb resignation; I didn’t feel entertained so much as punched in the face. (Reviewed at Manga Blog on 5/22/15.)

mizuki_hitlerMost Disappointing Manga: Shigeru Mizuki’s Hitler
By Shigeru Mizuki • Drawn & Quarterly
Shigeru Mizuki’s Hitler is one of the artist’s lesser works, uncomfortably see-sawing between character study and history lesson in its efforts to show us the man behind the Third Reich. Mizuki’s signature blend of cartoonish figures and photo-realistic backgrounds have been deployed to powerful effect in Non Non Ba and Onwards Towards Our Noble Deaths. Here, however, Shigeru’s hybrid style is a poor match with the subject; seeing Hitler reduced to a crude caricature makes it all too easy to view the book as a curiosity, rather than a serious meditation on evil. The virtual absence of the Holocaust is an even greater shortcoming; Shigeru Mizuki’s Hitler never grapples with the Fuhrer’s most disturbing legacy save for one blurry image of stacked corpses. Perhaps Mizuki felt the subject was too complex to explore in this biography, but it’s hard to imagine any dramatization of the Fuhrer’s life that fails to examine his virulent anti-Semitism.

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So what are other folks saying about 2015’s best titles? My Manga Bookshelf colleagues just posted their Pick of the Year, with Ash Brown posting a separate, more detailed run-down of his favorite titles at Experiments in Manga. At the B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog, Brigid Alverson has posted separate lists for her favorite new and continuing series.

This article originally appeared at MangaBlog on December 30, 2015.

Short Takes: Back to School Edition

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My inbox is overflowing with emails touting back-to-school deals on everything from sneakers to school supplies–a sure sign that the fall semester is right around the corner, and a nice reminder that Seven Seas, VIZ, and Vertical all have new (well, new-ish) school-themed comedies arriving in stores this month. Today, I take a look at Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto, a comedy about the World’s Most Fascinating High School Student; My Hero Academia, a shonen adventure about a teen who’s studying to become a superhero; and My Neighbor Seki, a gag series about a slacker who elevates procrastination to an art form.

sakamotoHaven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto, Vol. 1
By Miki Sano
Rated Teen
Seven Seas, $12.99

Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto is “The Aristocrats” of manga, a basic joke that yields endless variations, each more baroque than the last. The premise is simple: transfer student Sakamoto is handsome, brilliant, and athletic, making him a natural target for bullies and lovelorn girls. Any time a challenging situation arises–a bee in a classroom, a classmate injured by a softball–Sakamoto effortlessly meets that challenge, in the process revealing a previously undisclosed talent.

In the hands of a less imaginative storyteller, Sakamoto might be a wish-fulfillment character for every teenager who’s ever been tongue-tied or harassed by other students. Nami Sano puts a distinct spin on the material, however, portraying Sakamoto as so calculating and unflappable that he’s genuinely creepy; Sakamoto never smiles, laughs, or shows any discernible human emotion, even when confronted with other people’s tears or anger. (The real joke seems to be that everyone admires Sakamoto anyway.) I’m not sure that I LMAO, but Sakamoto’s odd persona and equally odd talents are a welcome rebuke to the school council presidents and earnest strivers who populate most teen-oriented manga; I’d much rather spend time with him than a standard-issue shonen prince.

The verdict: You’ll either find Sakamoto’s antics inspired or too weird to be amusing.

academiaMy Hero Academia, Vol. 1
By Kohei Horikoshi
Rated T, for teens
VIZ Media, $9.99

Meet Izuku Midoriya: he’s an ordinary teen living in a world where 80% of humanity possesses a super power. That doesn’t stop Izuku from aspiring to become a professional hero, however; since childhood, he’s dreamed about the day he might gain admission to prestigious U.A. High School, a training ground for future crime-fighters. A chance encounter with All Might, a celebrity superhero, gives Izuku a chance to prove his mettle and get the coaching he needs to pass the U.A. entrance exam.

Though the plot twists are unsurprising, and Izuku’s classmates familiar types (e.g. the Bully, the Spazzy Enthusiast), the breezy script propels My Hero Academia past its most hackneyed moments. The clean linework, playful superhero costumes, and artfully staged combat further enhance the series’ appeal; Kohei Horikoshi could give a master class on the reaction shot, especially when a supervillain is wrecking havoc on a downtown skyline. Most importantly, Horikoshi respects the sincerity of Izuku’s ambitions without letting the character’s earnest intensity cast a pall over the fun–in essence, it’s a Silver Age comic in modern shonen drag, with all the corny humor and fist-pumping action of Stan Lee and Steve Ditko’s best work on Spider-Man.

The verdict: My Hero Academia is as predictable as death and taxes, but a smart script and crisp artwork help distinguish it from other titles in the Shonen Jump catalog.

sekiMy Neighbor Seki, Vols. 1-3
By Takuma Morishige
Unrated
Vertical Comics, $10.95

Like Haven’t You Heard? I’m Sakamoto, My Neighbor Seki is a one-joke series: middle-school student Seki goofs off during class, much to the consternation of his seat mate Rumi. Seki isn’t just doodling in his notepad, however. He pets kittens, builds elaborate sculptures from shoji pieces, runs an intraschool mail service, and hosts a tea ceremony. To vary the rhythm of the joke-telling, artist Takuma Morishige occasionally transplants the action from the schoolroom to the playground, though the set-up remains the same; Seki does something outrageous and Rumi reacts, prompting the teacher to scold Rumi for not paying attention.

Given Seki‘s slender premise, it’s not surprising that each volume is a hit-and-miss affair. In volume one, for example, Seki knits a cactus plushie using a double-ended afghan hook. Rumi initially scoffs at his choice of tool; as she observes, “The hallmark of afghan knitting is its unique thickness and softness. It’s a texture best utilized when making sweaters,” not stuffed animals. When she sees the final results, however, she concedes that Seki has chosen the perfect technique and materials for his cactus, sending her into a rapturously funny meditation on yarn. Not all the gags are as successful: Seki’s penchant for staging elaborate scenes with action figures is moderately amusing at first, but grows more tiresome with each new and less imaginative iteration. Still, it’s impossible to deny the energy, creativity, and specificity with which Morishige brings Seki’s exploits to life, making this series more “win” than “fail.”

The verdict: My Neighbor Seki is best enjoyed in one or two chapter installments; when read in large bursts, some scenarios read like 4-koma strips stretched to epic and unfunny proportions.

These reviews originally appeared at MangaBlog on August 7, 2015.