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The Manga Review, 6/24/22

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Hi, all! Its been a relatively slow news week manga-wise and a crazy week for me work-wise, so I’m going to dispense with the snappy introduction and get right to the links! As always, if there’s a great blog, podcast, or YouTube channel that you think should be featured in The Manga Review, leave a comment below or contact me through Twitter. Your suggestions have already helped me make this a more inclusive and representative space, so keep ’em coming!

NEWS AND FEATURES

The folks at J-List have posted a thoughtful article explaining the steps the United Workers of Seven Seas will need to take in order to unionize. If you don’t know much about the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) and its role in “mediat[ing] between the employer, union, and other parties to iron out all the details,” start here. [J-List Blog]

Erica Friedman’s latest Yuri Studio episode is now live, and focuses on sports in yuri anime and manga. [Okazu]

After a brief hiatus from blogging, Allison Ziebruh has revived Bloom Reviews with a raft of new reviews, as well as a thoughtful reflection on the current isekai manga boom. [Bloom Reviews]

Kelli Ewings posts a sneak preview of new works by Gengoroh Tagame, explaining why she’s excited to see more of his ground-breaking work available in English. [Panel Patter]

Wondering what’s new at Seven Seas? Carrie McClain has you covered with licensing news, unionization updated, and brief reviews of The Muscle Girl Next Door, Until I Meet My Husband, and more. [Women Write About Comics]

Laura Grace continues working her way through the shojo manga alphabet with a look at her favorite titles that begin with the letter D. [Beneath the Tangles]

Buckle up, Ryuko fans: Andrew Osmond just sat down for an interview with creator Eldo Yoshimizu. When asked why all his manga feature tough, sexy women in leading roles, he responded, “I like the strong woman, maybe that’s the reason. Especially when I started writing Ryuko, I wanted a lot to have female readers. I had that idea in my head. Especially in Japan, the woman is treated as vulnerable, kawaii… For child readers, that’s fine, but I wanted to provide something more sophisticated, better for the adult readers. Asura [the protagonist in Hen Kai Pan] and Ryuko, they make mistakes and they suffer a lot, and they’re going to grow up… That’s the kind of story I wanted.” [Anime News Network]

REVIEWS

Over at The Guardian, Rachel Cooke posts a thoughtful review of Yamada Murasaki’s Talk to My Back, due out from Drawn & Quarterly this summer. “Murasaki captures her character’s every mood shift and internal contradiction, her guilt as well as her longing (more than once, other people tell Chiharu she should be “grateful” for her life – as if she didn’t know this herself),” Cooke observes. “But Murasaki leavens this by recalling, too, the quotidian pleasures and rituals of home: the jokes, the teasing, a delicious (“slurp”) bowl of noodles. The result is a cross-cultural book about female self-worth – about where it comes from and why it sometimes disappears – that stands the test of time in the most remarkable way.”

Also of note: The OASG’s Justin and Helen offer their perspectives on the latest volume of Witch Hat Atelier, while ANN’s Lynzee Loveridge gives Hideshi Hino’s The Town of Pigs a solid grade of B, and Solrad’s Helen Chazan posts capsule reviews of several new releases.

 

Shortcake Cake Vols 9 and 10

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Shortcake Cake Volumes 9 and 10 by suu Morishita

There’s around 5 volumes of revelations and drama packed into these two volumes of Shortcake Cake, but one of the advantages of finally finding out the truth about Riku and Rei’s relationship at last is that seeing the backstory and the emotional aftermath as Riku and his friends attempt to deal with their new reality inspires feelings of empathy in the reader. Morishita is adept at portraying a great deal of emotional nuance as the characters in Shortcake Cake start to puzzle out who they are and how their relationships are evolving.

The 9th volume opens with Shiraoka telling Ten and Chiaki the circumstances surrounding Riku’s past. It turns out that Rei’s mom, who was a teacher, adopted Riku after a student of hers left him as a baby in her classroom. Rei was a much-wanted child after a long struggle with infertility. While Rei’s parents tried to raise both boys with equal amounts of affection, Rei grew up attempting to establish his big brother bona fides even though Riku was only one month younger. Rei signed up for extra lessons in an unsuccessful attempt to get approval from his grandfather, who just seems flat-out emotionally abusive because he hates the fact that his daughter even got married in the first place. Rei’s resentment grew and grew, and when his parents died in a tragic car accident, he took the opportunity to kick Riku out. Shiraoka promptly took him in and raised him as an older brother. Aspects of Riku’s personality such as his sometimes ingratiating manner and desire to please but not actually get close to anyone are explained through the events in his past. When Riku’s long-lost older sister shows up at the boarding house he’s confronted with the choice of connecting to his biological family. The core of the story is how Ten and Chiaki are determined to continue to support Riku along with Shiraoka. While Rei has totally been a jerk, it is also clear that he’s lashing out in pain and unable to move on and find any kind of peace within himself.

One of the nice things about this volume is seeing Chiaki’s relentless overtures of friendship towards Riku and how he’s changed after hearing Riku’s story. Chiaki has avoided his overbearing older brother, but after seeing how Riku’s family broke down he’s decided to face his own family again. When Chiaki proclaims about Riku “I love him! He’s my one and only best friend!”, Riku says to himself that Chiaki is an idiot and Shiraoka responds “You’re pretty lucky to have met such a good idiot.” While Riku’s adoptive family might have been torn apart, he’s managing to put a found family together by finally allowing his friends to get to know him, and seeing this evolution take place over 10 volumes of Shortcake Cake is rewarding for the reader. While Riku goes on a visit to Chiaki’s family, Ten attempts to intervene with Rei. As this volume races towards a dramatic confrontation, I’m hoping that both Rei and Riku are able to find some sort of peace. Shortcake Cake‘s stories of found family combined with sibling estrangement make for a gripping story, and it is great to see how the core trio of Ten, Riku, and Chiaki have evolved together through their friendships.

Fushigi Yugi: Byakko Senki vol 1

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Fushigi Yugi: Byakko Senki Volume 1 by Yuu Watase

The Fushigi Yugi universe is one I’ve been following for a long time. Many of my earliest volumes are from the initial Viz release back in the early 2000s, so I felt very nostalgic reading the first volume of the last Fushigi Yugi story 20 years later. While there have been glimpses of Suzuno before in previous series and the anime, seeing an entire series devoted to her seems like a fitting way to finish out the Universe of the Four Gods.

This first volume is structured as a prequel within a prequel, giving the reader insight into Suzuno’s character as both a child and a young adult and setting up an intriguing conflict that I expect to see explored more in future volumes. As Fushigi Yugi: Byakko Senki opens, a young Suzuno is spending time with her parents. Her father has the volume of The Universe of the Four Gods, burdened with the tragic legacy of Takiko Okuda and her professor father. As the Great Kanto earthquake strikes, Suzuno is trapped in her burning house and her father sends her into the book in order to save her life. In the Universe of the Four Gods, Suzuno is clearly unable to fend for herself, but she meets up with some people who are surely going to be pivotal figures in her life – Neiran, a psychologically damaged woman who can turn into a tiger, and the brothers Kasal and Karm. After narrowly escaping being kidnapped, Suzuno travels for a little bit with her new companions who begin to suspect that she might be the fabled priestess of Byakko.

Suzuno travels back to her own world in the aftermath of the earthquake, and the story line shifts to show her as a young woman, quiet and artistic and plagued by enduring visions and memories of what she’s lost. A shy, retiring heroine forced to adapt to a mystical new world isn’t exactly a novel plot point, but the overtones of impending tragedy and Suzuno’s resilience in difficult situations immediately make her an engaging heroine. Watase’s art is always clear and engaging, and I’m looking forward to seeing her portrayal of Suzuno’s mystical warriors and the unique world of the Universe of the Four Gods. This first volume mainly established Suzuno as a fully-fledged protagonist and I’m fairly happy with that pacing even though I put it down feeling a little impatient waiting to get started on the rest of the story. While I think is possible to enjoy this series without reading other Fushigi Yugi stories, I think at minimum someone reading Byakko Senki should be familiar with Genbu Kaiden, and hopefully the main series that started off this 20 year old saga.

Kakuriyo: Bed and Breakfast for Spirits, Vols. 4 and 5

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Kakuriyo: Bed and Breakfast for Spirits Volumes 4 and 5 by Waco Ioka, Midori Yuma and Laruha

I feel like now Kakuriyo has settled into a reliable rhythm for the reader, with each volume blending elements of food preparation and consumption and showcasing supernatural entities with some hints at the ongoing mystery surrounding Aoi’s grandfather and his relationship with the spirit world.

One of the reasons why I enjoy this manga is because it blends in very mundane concerns with a supernatural setting. This was particularly on display in volume 4 when Aoi needs to take into consideration vital aspects of business administration in her attempt to launch a cafe in a slightly inconvenient corner of the Tenjin-ya Inn. Aoi treats everyone who has been helping her get the cafe ready for opening to rice balls with individualized flavors that appeal to their unique personalities. When Aoi ventures out with Odanna to the local markets and gets a clue about a mask she remembers an ayakashi wearing who helped her a long time ago. Aoi is still running into resistance from other members of the Tenjin-ya staff, but she finds some ways of winning over new customers by creating special bento boxes for a sequestered writer. I do still sometimes wish the art for Kakuriyo was a little more elaborately detailed or creative, but I’m happy to see some unsettling ayakashi character designs such as a three-eyed woman with a snarky three-eyed baby, or the no-face handmaidens who always show up to give Aoi a makeover.

The fifth volume opens with Aoi sharing a quiet moment with Odanna, as she follows him out to his mountain retreat and learns about a new delicacy – fire chicken eggs cooked in a hot spring. Aoi also gets a new clue about the white-masked ayakashi from her past and an impactful endorsement from the badger demon novelist. Business starts to look up a little bit after Aoi also gets a visit from a fortune spirit who loves red bean paste desserts. I found myself really enjoying the way this manga is paced, with Aoi slowly finding out more about the strange world she’s been transported to, and her low key ways of getting to know ayakashi through preparing simple dishes with their unique needs in mind. Five volumes into the series, it is much more satisfying as a food manga, with the food preparation showcased in at least a page or two instead of being skipped over.

Kakuriyo: Bed & Breakfast for Spirits, Vol. 1

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One occupational hazard of reviewing manga is the powerful sense of déjà vu that a middle-of-the-road series can induce. I experienced just such a flash while reading Kakuriyo: Bed & Breakfast for Spirits, a pleasant, decently executed shojo series that hit so many familiar beats I was tempted to pull out a bingo card and tick off the stock characters and situations as I plowed through volume one.

As in other supernatural romances — think InuYasha and The Water Dragon’s Bride — the plot is set in motion by the heroine’s abduction to the kakuriyo, or spirit realm. There, Aoi learns that her late grandfather was capable of traveling between the kakuriyo and utsushiyo (human world), a skill that gramps exploited to run up a tab at a supernatural B&B. Gramps pledged Aoi as collateral, promising her hand in marriage to Odanna, the inn’s proprietor. Odanna is — wait for it — a handsome jerk with an attitude so condescending that Aoi can barely stand to be in the same room with him. He’s also an ogre. (A real ogre, not a metaphorical one.)

Indignant at the prospect of marrying a monster, Aoi instead vows to settle her grandfather’s accounts by working at the inn, a vow made more complicated by the other demons’ refusal to hire human staff for even the most menial tasks. The creators have used Aoi’s predicament as an opportunity to graft elements of a cooking manga onto the main plot by furnishing Aoi with culinary skills so impressive that even denizens of the kakuriyo are wowed by her omelet rice and chicken stew. The inclusion of these scenes feels perfunctory, however, as they add little to our understanding of who Aoi is; if anything, these interludes serve mostly to foreshadow the inevitable moment in volume two or five when Aoi finally persuades the inn’s chef to update his menu with Japanese comfort food.

The real pleasure in reading Kakuriyo: Bed & Breakfast for Spirits is the parade of ayakashi (spirits). The supporting cast seem to have stepped out of a Hyakki Yagyō scroll: there are kappas and tengus and oni, no-faced women and nine-tailed foxes, all drawn in a style that explicitly references the work of Utagawa Yoshiiku and Kawanabe Kyosai. When interacting with Aoi, these spirits morph into preternaturally elegant humans swathed in Edo-era couture. It’s an effective gambit, allowing illustrator Waco Ioka to emphasize her strengths — fabrics, textures, masks — while offering a plausible explanation for the demons’ uncanny appearance. (Looking through one of gramps’ photo albums, Aoi notes that the ayakashi‘s “faces look fake, like they’re pasted on.”)

Yet for all the joys of seeing the Night Parade of 100 Demons come to life in such a stylish fashion, I was so aware of the plot mechanics that I could never fully embrace Kakuriyo as a story. Someone less steeped in the conventions and cliches of shojo manga, however, might well find Kakuriyo a charming introduction to one of the medium’s most ubiquitous and appealing genres: the supernatural romance.

The verdict: Librarians working with middle school readers might find Kakuriyo a good addition to their graphic novel collection, as it’s largely free of provocative content (e.g. strong language, sexuality) but will feel more “adult” to readers in grades 6-8 than other T-rated romances.

A review copy was supplied by VIZ Media.

KAKURIYO: BED & BREAKFAST FOR SPIRITS, VOL. 1 • ART BY WACO IOKA, ORIGINAL STORY BY MIDORI YUMA, CHARACTER DESIGN BY LARUHA • TRANSLATED BY TOMO KIMURA • RATED T, FOR TEENS (FANTASY VIOLENCE) • 196 pp.

Kenka Bancho Otome: Love’s Battle Royale, Vol. 1

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For a manga based on a dating game, Kenka Bancho Otome is far better than it ought to be. It’s a fast-paced, loose-limbed story that’s both cheerfully stupid and mildly subversive, buoyed by its deliciously queer premise: a girl goes undercover in an all-boys’ high school where her androgynous beauty and lethal karate chops inflame her classmates’ hearts.

The plot is set in motion by an accidental encounter between Hinako Nakayama, an orphan, and her long-lost twin Hikaru, whom she rescues from the path of an oncoming car. In the aftermath of the accident, Hikaru cajoles his sister into impersonating him for a day, lending her his school uniform and dropping her at the campus gates. Hinako soon realizes the folly of her brother’s request, however; Shishiku Academy is more like Rock ’n’ Roll High School than prep school, as its entire curriculum—if one could call it that—centers on fighting. Making matters worse is that everyone wants to fight Hinako because they believe she’s the heir apparent to the Onigumo crime family. She isn’t, of course, but Hikaru is, a detail he conveniently omitted when roping her into his charade. 

If you’ve read more than one shojo comedy, you know what happens next: Hinako befriends and beguiles the best-looking delinquents at the school, from Totomaru, an earnest cutie who’s prone to nosebleeds and blushing, to Kira, a tousle-haired bishonen with a sensitive side. Author Chie Shimada has the good graces to keep the hot guys and fist-fights coming — the better to distract from the thinness of the plot —and the imagination to add small but delightful quirks to her main characters’ personalities. Her best running gag is Hikaru, who seems more at home impersonating his sister than inhabiting his own skin; though his temper suggests he’d be a ruthless crime boss, his obvious joy in looking pretty and flirting with Miraku, Shinsiku Academy’s resident idol, add a fresh dimension to the identity-swapping formula. 

As you might expect, the artwork is more serviceable than memorable. Shimada proves capable of drawing a variety of familiar bishonen types — lanky guys with ponytails, serious guys with glasses — though the pro forma nature of the character designs occasionally makes it difficult to parse the fight scenes. (All those artfully coiffed young men have the same lanky, spike-haired silhouette.) Then, too, there are riotously busy pages where Shimada’s screentone is so thick and smudgy it’s almost palpable; the phrase “applied with a trowel” comes to mind.

Still, the Shishiku gang’s bonhomie is hard to resist, carrying the reader past the story’s creakier moments. So, too, is Hinako’s sincerity; her journey towards self-actualization is both touching and amusing, as she discovers that she might, in fact, be a more natural bancho than her twin. That she wins her fellow delinquents’ admiration with a mean right hook and a roundhouse kick is less important than the fact they appreciate her for her pluck, kindness, and thirst for justice — a nuance that elevates Kenka Bancho Otome from otome rehash to actual story. Recommended.

KENKA BANCHO OTOME: LOVE’S BATTLE ROYALE, VOL. 1 • STORY AND ART BY CHIE SHIMADA • ORIGINAL CONCEPT BY SPIKE CHUNSOFT • VIZ MEDIA • 194 pp. • RATED T, FOR TEENS (13+)

Takane & Hana, Vol. 1

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The opening pages of Takane & Hana offer a uniquely Japanese twist on the meet cute: the couple in question are set up by a marriage broker who thinks she’s introducing a twenty-three year old beauty to a twenty-six-year-old bachelor. The bride-to-be, however, is a sixteen-year-old high school student who’s posing as her older sister — don’t ask — while the potential groom is an impossibly handsome jerk who’s angry that his family is pressuring him to settle down. Guess what happens next? If you said, “Opposites attract!”, you wouldn’t be wrong, though the course of true love hits a few potholes along the way.

I’m of two minds about Takane & Hana. My fifteen-year-old self adores Hana for being so smart and sassy, the kind of girl who says devastatingly true things and still manages to stay in other people’s good graces. My forty-five-year-old self, however, feels uncomfortable with the ten-year age gap between its lead characters. While Yuki Shiwasu cheerfully acknowledges the troubling power dynamic between Takane and Hana, she wants to eat her cake and have it, too: Hana’s incisive comments are supposed to level the playing field with the older, more experienced Takane, making it OK for the two to flirt, date, and kiss. At the end of the day, however, the economic and educational gulf between Hana and Takane still seems vast, making Takane seem like a predatory creep for preferring the company of a mature sixteen-year-old over a woman his age.

I know, I know: I’m humorless. A killjoy. A big ol’ capital-F feminist. But in a moment when we’re having serious conversations about power and consent, I’m having difficulty getting caught up in Takane and Hana’s romantic shenanigans, however much Hana sounds like a teenaged Rosalind Russell, or how wonderfully elastic Takane and Hana’s faces may be. Takane & Hana is unquestionably someone’s guilty pleasure — just not mine.

Takane & Hana, Vol. 1
Story and Art by Yuki Shiwasu
Adaptation by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane
VIZ Media, 200 pp.
Rated T, for Teens

Children of the Whales, Vols. 1-2

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Children of the Whales suffers from the same problem as many prestige television shows: it boasts a thought-provoking premise, compelling lead characters, and sophisticated visuals, but is such a relentlessly downbeat experience that you’d be forgiven for abandoning ship after a few chapters.

The story unfolds aboard the Mud Whale, a sentient vessel. Its 513 inhabitants have been exiled from their homeland for over 90 years, drifting across a vast ocean of sand punctuated only by the occasional island or abandoned boat. Fourteen-year-old Chakuro is the community’s archivist, tasked with recording births and deaths, strange encounters, and changes in the Mud Whale’s leadership, events he catalogs with almost fanatical devotion. Making his job more bittersweet is the discrepancy between the “marked” residents, whose ability to wield magic (or “thymia,” in the series’ parlance) dooms them to a short lifespan, and the unmarked residents, whose normal lifespans have forced them into the role of caretakers and governors.

To stave off despair, the Mud Whale’s residents eschew emotional display — a point reinforced in the earliest pages of volume one, when Chakuro sheds a tear at a 29-year-old woman’s funeral. Immediately, his peers enjoin him not to weep, lest “the souls at the bottom of the sea cry out for you.” It’s a simple but effective scene, one that reminds us that the Mud Whale’s inhabitants are caught between the real prospect of extinction and the uncertain possibility of survival; only their fierce commitment to living in the present moment preserves their tenuous existence.

While scavenging for supplies on a seemingly deserted island, Chakuro stumbles across a blank-faced girl about his own age. She attacks him with swords and sorcery, only to collapse, unconscious, from the effort of casting a spell. Chakuro is frightened but intrigued, and brings Lykos back to the Mud Whale where he learns her true identity: she’s an apatheia, an emotionless soldier. “Emotions will destroy the world,” she informs Chakuro. “The outside world you want to know so badly about is ruled by people deficient in feeling, using apatheias who have no heart to fight a war without end.”

The next major plot development — a surprise attack — delivers the series’ first truly grim moments, as the Mud Whale’s inhabitants are beaten, impaled, and gunned down by unknown assailants. Though Chakuro and Lykos have been fleshed out enough to earn the reader’s pity, the sheer size of the cast and the suddenness of the ambush blunt the impact of the carnage; we can see that Chakuro is devastated by the loss of his childhood friend Sami, but Sami is such a stock character — innocent, impetuous, infatuated with Chakuro — that her gruesome death registers as a manipulative attempt to illustrate the truth of Lykos’ earlier comments about the outside world. That same kind of heavy-handed editorializing extends to the villains’ physical appearance as well. They look like Juggalos in chain mail, sporting maniacal grins that scream, “Sadists ahoy!”, a point underscored in the gleeful way in which they violate corpses and taunt sobbing victims.

The most frustrating thing about these frenetic chapters is that they seem fundamentally at odds with the deliberate pacing and meticulous world-building in volume one. In these introductory pages, Umeda maps every nook and cranny of the Mud Whale, creating an environment as imposing and intimate as Hayao Miyazaki’s Laputa. She approaches her character designs with same patience and care, bestowing a semblance of individuality on each resident while establishing their collective identity as a people. Even Chakuro’s frequent voice-overs — presumably read from the Mud Whale’s archives — play an important role in helping us experience time the way the Mud Whale’s residents do; there’s a lyrical quality to Chakuro’s narration that captures the rhythms of their day-to-day existence.

Yet for all Umeda’s world-building skills, Children of the Whales‘ dour tone puts the reader at arm’s length from the characters. Minus the flashes of joy, humor, and warmth that temper Miyazaki’s most downbeat films, Children of the Whales feels more like an episode of The Leftovers or Rectify than Castle in the Sky; it’s so utterly mirthless that it casts a pall over the reader instead of prompting deep thoughts or empathy for the characters. Take my manga, please!

CHILDREN OF THE WHALES, VOLS. 1-2 • BY ABI UMEDA • VIZ • RATED T+ (FOR OLDER TEENS)

Shojo Fight, Vol. 1

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Shojo FIGHT! Volume 1 by Yoko Nihonbashi

I’m very happy about Kodansha’s recent investment in digital manga, since it means that some titles that might be not commercial enough to get a print release are being translated. At the same time, I’ve been burned by digital manga in the past, and I only have so much budgeted for digital comics a month, so I’ve been a little picky with my purchases. I was very interested to see a girls volleyball title coming out from Kodansha, because I do enjoy a good sports manga. The first volume of Shojo FIGHT! is largely set-up for the whole series, and it packs an impressive amount of drama in one short volume.

Neri spends her time on the bench for her middle school volleyball team. She seems to be content to be incredibly unassertive and dismissed, but she has a group of friends and fans who look after her. The manga starts by showing the dynamics of Neri’s current team. Koyuki seems to be noticed as much for her looks as her volleyball talent, while Chiyo is the seemingly evil teem member who is comfortable saying horrible things to everyone. While Neri doesn’t do much in the way of athletics in the first few pages, it is clear that she has the aura of somebody special. Neri has a built in fanclub that includes Odagiri, a girl who spends her time drawing volleyball manga. There are also the brothers Shikishima. The younger blond Shikishima is a carefree volleyball player while his his older brother with the dark hair has the burden of being the heir to his family’s osteopathic clinic, having magic injury soothing fingers, and also playing volleyball.

When Neri does get off the bench, it is clear that she’s been hiding her skills as well as her single-minded intensity towards the sport of volleyball. Part of the reason why she’s been able to hide so long is because her school tends to give starting positions based on the height of the players. Neri becomes aggressive and vocal, yelling at Koyuki to get her head in the game. Neri and Koyuki end up colliding when they go after the same ball. Neri’s travails in volleyball would be enough to carry this volume, but she also has a family tragedy that she’s dealing with as well. Slowly the details are revealed as the story progresses, and while Neri’s set up for a different type of volleyball career as she enters high school, she’s still dealing with plenty of baggage. It seems like her friends are always going to be around to support her, especially Shikishima the elder.

Part of my enjoyment of Shojo FIGHT! is due to the novelty factor. Perhaps because I haven’t been able to read many female-oriented sports manga, I found Neri’s portrayal as a volleyball hero with athletic prowess and intensity that could cause situations to get out of control refreshing, just because I’m much more used to seeing this type of character as a male protagonist. If this had been the 5th female volleyball manga that I’d read instead of the 2nd, I might not find it quite as charming though. Other reviewers have noted that the art of this volume looks very similar to OEL manga, with smooth dark lines, sparse backgrounds, and lacking the delicacy that most shoujo fans might expect. I was halfway wondering if it was as I was reading it if it was OEL, but as I looked up Shojo FIGHT, it indeed came out in Japan originally in the mid 2000s. Nihonbashi’s style made me wonder if it really was that unique, or if it comes down to just the type of series that tend to get translated for a North American audience. Nihonbashi’s high contrast style gives Shojo FIGHT a more graphic, less flowery sort of look, and while she is good at facial expressions, I did find myself wondering at times if Neri had variants of her stunned and shell shocked look as she grapples with her emotions. I did enjoy all the distinctive character designs. With such a large cast, having distinct looks for the characters helps the reader greatly.

There was enough drama for two volumes in the first volume of Shojo FIGHT!, but at the same time I’m reserving judgement a bit, because I expect the narrative to settle down in the second volume. I’m hoping to see if Neri is able to fight off her inner demons a bit for the sake of volleyball.

Anonymous Noise, Vol. 1

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Anonymous Noise is to manga what “Talk Dirty to Me” is to contemporary hit radio: both have a killer hook — that plot! that sax! — and inane lyrics.

The story begins with a vorspiel of sorts. Nino, a tot with a golden voice, bonds with her next-door neighbor Momo, who shares her enthusiasm for singing, if not her sense of pitch. The two are inseparable until Momo’s family abruptly moves away. While pining for her lost friend, Nino crosses paths with Yuzu, a short, feisty songwriter whose tunes help Nino discover her true potential as a vocalist. He, too, unexpectedly skips town, leaving Nino despondent once again — so despondent, in fact, that she begins wearing a surgical mask to prevent herself from screaming. (No, I’m not making that up.)

Flash forward to the present: Nino is now in middle school, roaming the halls in a mask and obsessing about Momo. A chance encounter reunites her with Yuzu, who’s penning tunes for the school’s struggling Popular Music Club. What Nino doesn’t realize is that Yuzu’s bandmates are, in fact, members of In No Hurry to Shout, a pop act as famous for their identity-concealing costumes as their chart-topping songs. (Apparently no one else has put two and two together, either, as the snotty school council president regularly threatens the club with termination.) Nino agrees to sit in for the club’s vocalist, unwittingly auditioning for In No Hurry to Shout in the process.

Despite its soap-opera plotting, Anonymous Noise never gels into a compelling story. One contributing factor is the characters, who are barely fleshed out. Nino, for example, is defined almost exclusively by her capacity for self-pity; she mopes incessantly, mooning over Momo as if he’d just moved away. (Six years have elapsed since Momo’s family skipped town.) Her romantic prospects are also one-note characters: Yuzu is a blustery jerk who yells, cajoles, and insults Nino, while Momo is sweetly chivalrous, the perfect boyfriend-in-training.

Another contributing factor is the lackluster artwork. Though other characters gush about Nino’s voice, Ryoko Fukuyama never *shows* us that Nino has the goods. We see close-ups of Nino’s gaping mouth and a smattering of musical notes whenever she warbles a tune, but we could just as easily infer that she was shouting, yodeling, or yawning from the lifeless, unimaginative way in which she’s drawn. A quick glance at Nodame Cantabile, Your Lie in April, Ludwig B., solanin, or Nana, demonstrates that it *is* possible to show how much physical effort it takes to produce a good sound, and what effect that sound is having on the audience. While such gestures don’t replicate the full experience of hearing a great band in person, they suggest what it might be like — something that Anonymous Noise fails to do on any level.

The bottom line: Anonymous Noise is too bland to be memorable, and too earnest to be fun. Not recommended.

ANONYMOUS NOISE, VOL. 1 • BY RYOKO FUKUYAMA • VIZ MEDIA • RATED T, FOR TEEN

Yona of the Dawn, Vol. 4

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Yona of the Dawn Volume 4 by Mizuho Kusanagi

Yona of the Dawn is firmly in the “get the team together” quest story line that is so common in fantasy manga, but even though the plot is predictable, I’m enjoying it greatly just due ot the character interactions along the way and the interesting world building. It wouldn’t be a team without plenty of bickering, and the first chapter of this volume shows Gija and Hak constantly going at it as they both want the role of Yona’s main protector. Gija’s sheltered upbringing in his remote village doesn’t exactly prepare him for life on the open road, as it turns out he is terrified by bugs. The bickering continues and provides some much needed humor before the rest of the volume settles in with a much more serious story line.

It turns out that not every dragon guardian was raised with as much privelege and love as Gija, and as the Yona and her band go to find the Blue Dragon, they find a mysterious village with masked tribes people, and the Blue Dragon has been treated as a pariah, not celebrated due to his unique powers like Gija. The feeling in the village is unsettling, and provides Yona a real challenge to work through as she attempts to discover the identity of the Blue Dragon. One of the reasons why I like this series so much is that while Yona is obviously blessed by being a princes and having some fabled mystical guardians, she isn’t going to stop trying to improve herself. She still spends hours practicing her archery alone because she wants to be able to help the people who are fighting for her. Getting through to the Blue Dragon is a product of her insight into human nature and her genuine interest in other people as opposed to relying on her title or position in the world.

Kusanagi’s art continues to be clear and easy to read, and she’s great at conveying different moods and emotions like Gija’s over exaggerated reactions to the horrors of nature, Yona’s determination, and the unsettling masks of the Blue Dragon’s tribe.

Behind the Scenes!!, Vol. 1

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Behind the Scenes!! embodies what’s good–and not so good–about Bisco Hatori’s storytelling. In the plus column, Hatori has a knack for writing ensemble pieces in which the principal characters exhibit a genuine fondness for one another. The stars of her latest series are Shichikoku University’s Art Squad, a scrappy outfit that makes props for the Film Club–or, more accurately, clubs, as there are several students groups competing for the Art Squad’s services, each with their own aesthetic objectives. Ranmaru, the series’ protagonist, gets a crash course in film making when he stumbles into the middle of an Art Squad project: a low-budget horror flick. As penance for disrupting the shoot, Ranmaru joins the Art Squad and is quickly pressed into service painting props, folding paper cranes, and building a fake hot spring.

These scenes–in which Ranmaru and the gang tackle set-design challenges–are among the series’ most enjoyable. Not only do they give us a sneak peek at the movie-making process, they also show us how the club members’ friendly overtures embolden the timid, self-doubting Ranmaru to let go of his painful childhood and become part of a community. In one exchange, for example, Ranmaru tells a fellow squad member about a black-and-white film that made a powerful impression on him. Hatori cuts between scenes from this imaginary film and Ranmaru’s face, registering how powerfully Ranmaru identified with the film’s principal character, a toy robot who dreams of flying. The symbolism of the toy is hard to miss, but the directness and simplicity with which Hatori stages the moment leavens the breezy tone with a note of poignancy.

In the minus column, Hatori often strains for comic effect, overwhelming the reader with too many shots of characters mugging, shouting, and flapping their arms. The Art Squad’s interactions with various student directors give Hatori license to indulge this tendency; the auteurs’ snits and whims frequently force the Art Squad members to behave more like the Scooby Doo gang–or Hollywood fixers–than actual college students juggling coursework and extra-curriculars. (The Art Squad even has a goofy dog mascot.)

At the same time, however, these wannabe Spielbergs bring out the best in Hatori’s draftsmanship. Each one’s personality is firmly established in just a single panel: one looks like a refugee from Swingin’ London (or perhaps an Austin Powers film); another dresses like a Taisho-era author, swanning around campus in a yukata; and a third sports a shaggy mane, Buddy Holly glasses, and a female entourage. The efficiency with which Hatori introduces these characters, and the range of personalities they embody, demonstrate just how crisp and distinctive her artwork can be. That Hatori’s heroes are visually bland by comparison says less about her skills, I think, than it does her desire to make Ranmaru’s new “family” seem normal–well, as normal as anyone who specializes in making fake zombie guts can be.

The bottom line: Tentatively recommended. If Hatori can tone down her characters’ antic behavior, Behind the Scenes!! could be a winner.

Behind the Scenes!!, Vol. 1
By Bisco Hatori
Rated T, for teens
VIZ Media, $9.99

This review originally appeared at MangaBlog on February 8, 2016.

Short Takes: Food Wars, Manga Dogs, and Yukarism

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Did you receive an Amazon or RightStuf gift certificate this holiday? If so, this post is for you! Below, I’ve reviewed the first volumes of three series that debuted in 2014, offering a quick-and-dirty assessment of each. Already read Food Wars? Fear not—I’ve also tackled Manga Dogs, a comedy about a teen manga artist, and Yukarism, a time-traveling, gender-bendering manga from Chika Shiomi (Canon, Yurara).

thumb-10857-FDW_01_webFood Wars, Vol. 1
Story by Yuto Tsukada, Art by Shun Saeki
Rated T+, for Older Teens
VIZ Manga, $9.99

Food Wars begins with an only-in-manga scenario: Soma Yukihira’s dad shutters the family’s greasy spoon restaurant and lights out for America, leaving his son behind. With no place to go, Soma enrolls at Totsuki Culinary Academy, a hoity-toity cooking school that prides itself on its wealthy alumnae, rigorous curriculum, and high attrition rate. Soma’s working-class background is a major handicap in this environment, but his can-do attitude and culinary instincts allow him to triumph in difficult situations, whether he’s salvaging an over-salted pot roast or wowing an unscrupulous developer with a simple potato dish.

In theory, I ought to hate Food Wars for its cartoonish characters and abundant cheesecake, two qualities I generally despise in a manga. But here’s the thing: it’s fun. Soma repeatedly shows up bullies and snobs with his ability to transform everyday dishes into haute cuisine, proving that good food doesn’t need to be fancy. Though Soma’s foes are stock types—the Busty Bitch, the Rich Mean Boy, the Teacher With Impossibly High Standards—Shun Sakei’s crisp caricatures make them seem like fresh creations. I wish I could say the same for Sakei’s abundant fanservice, which quickly wears out its welcome with porny images of women enjoying Soma’s cooking. These pin-up moments are supposed to be funny, I guess, but the heavy emphasis on heaving cleavage and bare skin seems more like a concession to teenage male taste than an organic part of the story.

The verdict: I can’t decide if Food Wars is a guilty pleasure or a hate read, but I’ve just purchased volumes 2-4.

Manga Dogs 1Manga Dogs, Vol. 1
By Ema Toyama
Rated T, for Teens
Kodansha Comics, $10.99

Manga Dogs has a terrific premise: a teenage artist decides to enroll in her school’s manga program, only to discover that her teacher is inept, and her classmates are pretty-boy otakus with no skill or work ethic. When Kanna’s classmates discover that she’s actually a published artist, Fumio, Fujio, and Shota glom onto her in hopes of breaking into the business—even though her debut series is on the verge of being cancelled.

With such a ripe set-up, it’s a pity that Manga Dogs is DOA. Part of the problem is that the script panders to the reader at every turn, whether it’s poking fun at reverse-harem tropes or saddling the characters with pun-tastic names inspired by famous manga creators. The author spends too much time patting the reader on the back for “getting” the jokes and not enough time writing genuinely funny scenarios or imbuing her characters with more than one personality trait each. The other issue is pacing: the story and artwork are both frenetic, with characters screaming, jumping, and flapping their arms on almost every page. By the end of the third chapter, I felt as if someone had beaten me up for my lunch money while asking me, “Do you think I’m funny? No? Now do you think I’m funny?”

The verdict: Just say no.

1421575906Yukarism, Vol. 1
By Chika Shiomi
Rated T, for Teen
VIZ Media, $9.99

Yukarism combines the supernatural elements of Rasetsu with the historical drama of Sakuran, then adds a dash of gender-bending weirdness for good measure. The story revolves around Yukari, a best-selling author whose novels explore the history of Edo’s red-light district. Though fans attribute the abundant details in his writing to research, Yukari has an even better strategy for learning about the past: he visits it! When he returns to the 1800s, however, Yukari becomes Yumurasaki, a top-earning oiran (or courtesan) enmeshed in a web of political intrigue, lust, and violence.

Given the complexity of the plot, it’s not surprising that the first volume of Yukarism is a bumpy ride. The tone see-saws between broad physical comedy and brooding melodrama, making it difficult to know if Yukari’s plight is being played for laughs or sniffles. The script, on the other hand, is too pointed; manga-ka Chika Shiomi is so intent on telling us what Yukari is thinking and seeing that she forgets the old dictum about showing, not telling. The same kind of editorial interventions result in at least one character waxing profusely about how handsome and cool Yukari is, just in case we haven’t realized that he’s supposed to be handsome and cool. Now that the basic parameters of the story have been established, however, Shiomi can dispense with the heavy-handed dialogue and do what she does best: write sudsy supernatural romances with beautiful characters in beautiful costumes.

The verdict: Volume two should be a pure guilty pleasure.

These reviews originally appeared at MangaBlog on January 2, 2015.

Skip Beat!, Vol 37

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Skip Beat! Volume 37, by Yoshiki Nakamura

I always do a mental happy dance whenever a new volume of Skip Beat! comes out, because it is just so consistently good. This volume brings the pain, as Kyoko has to deal with her mother. Kyoko’s family has always been consistently absent from this series, and now the reader knows why. There was a bit of a reference to family difficulties when Kyoko had to get her mother’s permission to sign with a talent agency, but she hasn’t appeared in person in the manga before. Kyoko’s mom appears to be a cold-hearted lawyer who doesn’t want to be inconvenienced by her own daughter.

Coming off of the Heel Siblings arc, Kyoko is back in Japan, working as a Love Me section member again while the first few episodes of her new drama are airing. She runs into her mother by an elevator, but she only displays a few hostile micro-expressions before walking by her daughter, utterly ignoring her. Later, it turns out that Saena Mogami is filling in for another lawyer on a variety show and when responding to questions about her cold demeanor, she replies that she’s never had children. Both Ren and Sho witness this moment, and they think about Kyoko’s feelings, rushing to be by her side.

Sho arrives first, right after Kyoko sees her mother deny her existence. Kyoko’s response to this event is to utterly shut down her emotions. Nakamura does such a great job with Kyoko’s facial expressions in this scene. Kyoko is usually so animated, swinging from one emotional extreme to another that to see her be both beyond sad and blank at the same time is shocking. Kyoko’s eyes are shadowed in grey, and the aftermath of her mother’s interview settles on Kyoko like a physical weight. Sho being Sho, his response is to try to provoke some sort of emotion out of her, and he fails miserably.

Skip Beat! has that rare combination of gripping plots and lovely art, even though the characters might have the leg proportions of giraffes. There are always several pages in each volume where I stop to appreciate the art, like the panels that show Kyoko’s devastation, a photo shoot with Ren that shows the charisma he has that has made him a star, and the moment where Kyoko finally finds some comfort.

Kyoko goes on the run and finds Ren, but she thinks he’s Corn! Oh the tangled web we weave, etc! Still, no mater what side of himself Ren may be portraying, he’s the refuge that Kyoko needs at the time. I can see this storyline spinning out over several volumes, and as usual when Skip Beat! embarks on new direction I can’t wait to see what happens next.

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Skip Beat! Vol. 36

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Skip Beat Volume 36 by Yoshiki Nakamura

I feel like most reviews of Skip Beat could just be summed up as, “Skip Beat, long-running shoujo series, continues to be relentlessly excellent,” but as I was reading the latest volume there were several specific things that struck me about it. I absolutely loved the Heel siblings plot, and while the manga has to move on from Ren and Kyoko being forced to be in close proximity to each other as they pretend to be gothic semi-incestual siblings in order to further Ren’s acting career as he acts in a drama while pretending to be an entirely different actor than “Ren” which is itself a totally different persona from his genuine personality, I’m glad that this volume eases out of the story line gently, with Kyoko getting one last big scene as Setsu.

Early in this volume I was reminded at how good Nakamura is at drawing Kyoko in freak-out mode, as she suffers agony in telling Ren that she kissed her long-lost fairy prince Corn (who is also Ren). Ren is pushing Kyoko a bit to get an emotional reaction from her, but he also is genuinely grateful for her help as they part and she heads back to Japan to resume her own acting career. Kyoko has matured so much as an actress and a person, and while she’s handling a crisis on her new show, things get complicated fast when Sho visits her home.

A settled and stable shoujo heroine doesn’t make for much drama, and now in addition to Sho’s reappearance, Kyoko is confronted with the specter of her long-absent horrible mother. Just when she starts to get a bit of emotional equilibrium, something happens to throw things off!

Lettering Skip Beat! must be a fun and challenging job, as there are different fonts used for Kyoko when she’s beset by the angry demon side of her personality, when she’s yelling at Sho, and when she’s calmly giving advice to a fellow actress. All in all, this was a very entertaining volume helping Skip Beat! transition away from one story line into a new direction, and I’m looking forward to seeing what happens next.

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