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Library Love, Part 17

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Support manga, support your library!

Here’s what I’ve been reading:

Arisa5Arisa, Volumes 5-7 by Natsumi Ando. As ridiculous and unbelievable as Arisa can be, I’ll have to admit that I actually am rather enjoying the series. The number of plot twists that Ando works into the manga is astounding. I know that they’re coming, but I have no idea where Arisa is going. I’ve learned not to stress out about it and just sit back and enjoy the absurdity as it develops. However, I can’t help but wonder where all the adults are in all of this. Occasionally a teacher, parent, or guardian is seen, but none of them seem very involved in the students’ lives at all. But then again, that might be part of the point of the series. The students in class 2-B have issues (they have a lot of issues) and King Time began in part because their needs and concerns weren’t being addressed elsewhere. More and more of their secrets are being revealed, but I’m not sure we’re any closer to actually learning who the King really is. Arisa continues along its dark and twisted path and I can’t help but be oddly mesmerized by the whole thing.

Cowa!Cowa! by Akira Toriyama. Cowa! had completely slipped under my radar until just recently. It’s a shame that I didn’t read it sooner because it is a terrific and highly enjoyable manga appropriate for kids as well as adults. The first few chapters are fairly episodic and start out with Paifu, a young half-vampire/half-werekoala, and his best friend and ghost José Rodriguez getting into all sorts of trouble. But then the manga develops a continuing story–Paifu’s hometown of Batwing Ridge is suffering from an epidemic of the Monster Flu. It’s up to Paifu, José, their not exactly friend Apron, and Maruyama, a grumpy ex-sumo wrestler, to save the day. Together they travel in search of the cure and it ends up becoming quite an adventure. There’s action and danger, bad guys and monsters. The interactions between Maruyama and the youngsters are simply marvelous. The manga is a lot of fun and funny, too. It may be silly at times, but it’s also heartwarming and has a good message. Cowa! is an absolute delight and definitely worth a look.

Slam Dunk, Volume 7Slam Dunk, Volumes 7-10 by Takehiko Inoue. I am a huge fan of Inoue’s manga. While Slam Dunk isn’t my favorite of his series, I still find it to be a great manga. Slam Dunk was Inoue’s breakthrough work and is immensely popular and influential. The basketball games in Slam Dunk are extremely well done, but so far what appeals most to me about the series is the characters. I particularly enjoy all of the delinquents that show up in the series and on Shohoku’s basketball team. The guys are just as capable in a fist fight as they are on the court. Granted, Sakuragi still has a lot to learn about basketball. He has some natural ability and potential, but I’m not sure anyone has actually taken the time to explain all the rules to him. Realistically, this is somewhat unbelievable, but it does provide a certain amount of humor. In general, Slam Dunk is much more comedic than Inoue’s other manga available in English. However, there’s still some seriousness and plenty of heartfelt passion in the series, too.

Time LagTime Lag written by Shinobu Gotoh and illustrated by Hotaru Odagiri. I didn’t realize it at first, but Odagiri is also the artist for Only the Ring Finger Knows, which I quite enjoyed. Time Lag is a slightly older work, and not quite as memorable, but still enjoyable and rather sweet. Satoru and Shirou used to be very close growing up, but after junior high they’ve grown apart despite Satoru repeatedly professing his love for the other young man. Satoru can’t seem to figure out what went wrong, but when a letter from Shirou arrives three years late he may have one last chance at setting things right. However, complicating matters even further is a love-triangle involving Seichii, another classmate. Plots that revolve around a giant misunderstanding often annoy me, but in the case of Time Lag I think it was handled very well. Some of the smaller misunderstandings were still frustrating, though. Granted, those deliberately created by Seichii and his jealousy make a fair amount of sense in the context of the story and the resulting drama is understandable.

Slam Dunk, Vol. 26

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With each new volume of Slam Dunk I’m simultaneously happy and a bit disappointed – happy because I can read another volume of a great sports manga, and disappointed because we are slowly inching towards the final 31st volume. I continue to find Slam Dunk fascinating even when a basketball game gets spread out over several volumes. Shohoku is still playing tournament favorite Sannoh, but things finally start to click for the loveable underdogs. My favorite aspect of this volume was that the breakout star of the game wasn’t the cool Rukawa or the sometimes doltish basketball savant Sakuragi, but their sometimes overlooked and quiet teammate Mitsui who starts out the volume by hitting three 3-pointers in a row. He’s able to take advantage of the fact that Sannoh’s focus is on Shohoku’s star players and score with simple precision. Everybody is mystified by Mitsui’s sudden confidence, including his own teammates. The Shohoku fans remember that Mitsui used to be a junior high MVP, but his play has suffered because he felt like he had to live up to some past glories. Shohoku’s enigmatic coach concludes that Mitsui is starting to believe in himself again at just the right time, and there’s a great wordless interchange between coach and player as they make eye contact and pump their fists. Simple moments like this where Inoue just uses a few simple panels to underscore a moment do so much more to drive the story forward than pages filled with expository dialogue.

Once the opposing team realizes that Mitsui needs more coverage, Shohoku needs to change up their strategy yet again. Rukawa and Sakuragi both have some moments, but Sakuragi is tested when the opposing team puts a huge substitute player in and his coach tells him that the monster is his assignment. It is a measure of just how far Sakuragi has come that while he does give in to his first impulse of trying to fight strength with strength, he eventually hits on a way to deal with the new player using strategy and observation. Each volume of Slam Dunk always feels very satisfying. To describe the plot, it might seam as if the story is moving forward at a glacial pace, with three volumes or so spent on one basketball game. But the evolution of characters and personalities brought on by the conflict of basketball is layered and dense, and that makes this title such a special sports manga.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Off the Shelf: The Ugly & the Beautiful

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MICHELLE: Miss? I say, excuse me, miss?

MJ: Hmm?

MICHELLE: Can I get a little manga discussion over here?

MJ: Oh, well, I guess so. It’ll cost ya, though.

MICHELLE: What attitude! I’d like to speak to your supervisor! Or, barring that, you could tell me what you read this week!

MJ: My supervisor’s pretty scary, so I guess I’ll go for the second option. I’ve spent my week reading a couple of different shoujo manga based on games (not exactly the most reliable source for great fiction) with drastically different results.

First, I caught up to the end of Ugly Duckling’s Love Revolution, a series whose first two volumes were once the subject of a Failure Friday column, “Fat girls have faces too.”

From that post, “I have to wonder, is there anyone involved with this manga (or the game it was based on) who has struggled with overweight? It seems impossible that there could be … the entire thing reads like a thin person’s perspective on obesity. The series exists in that stereotypical mindset where physical fitness is as simple as a balanced diet and exercise, and fat people are lazy gluttons who simply lack willpower (and possibly basic intelligence). It’s simplistic, insulting, and just blatantly not true, which begs the question, who is this manga actually for? Surely not fat girls, or at least not real ones.”

I’d love to report that my feelings about the series have changed after reading volumes three and four, but unfortunately, they really haven’t. In these volumes, Hitomi’s diet and exercise plans continue along, easy as (sugar-free) pie, with the most dramatic setback being the discovery that failure to consume enough carbohydrates makes it difficult for her to concentrate on her studies. Her harem of boys fawn over her, helping her along towards her goal, and though one even tries to hold her hand, Hitomi has little emotional reaction to it all. And why would she, when she’s so happy-go-lucky and simple-minded? There’s no exploration of how being overweight might affect her self-esteem (especially with boys), and no social repercussions, outside of a group of girls who are jealous because she’s so popular with the school hotties.

And okay, I know I’m harping. I realize this is a hot-button issue for me. But only thin people believe that losing weight is as simple as realizing that sweets are bad for you and “exercise is fun!” which is basically Hitomi’s journey. And only real fat kids can know how unrealistic and insensitive it is to suggest that committing themselves to a health regimen will win them the support and admiration of all the most popular boys (or girls) in their class. There’s nothing in Hitomi that reflects what really goes on in the world of an overweight teen, even just in terms of their own self-loathing, never mind what seeps in from the outside. There’s some passing reference at one point to Hitomi’s battle to avoid buying sweets, as one of the boys mentions watching her gazing longingly at them through the bakery window, but that’s the closest to an internal struggle we ever see in Hitomi. As a result, when she does lose the weight (and win herself a face!) it feels unearned, because the problem never seemed real in the first place.

Oh, and the best part? After Hitomi’s lost weight, she’s still as clumsy and hopeless as always, only now it’s super-cute ’cause she’s thin!

I have issues. Can you tell?

MICHELLE: I have so many reactions to this I hardly know where to begin. At one point I thought, “Man, I’d like to see a realistic story about a heavy teen trying to lose the weight,” but then I realized that, no I really wouldn’t. I have lived that quite enough, thanks.

Really, it makes me sad that The Stellar Six of Gingacho will not be completed in English, thanks to TOKYOPOP’s closure. As you might recall, one of the six friends is an overweight girl—with an actual face!—whose weight does not factor into the plot or her personality at all. I recently acquired volume ten in Japanese, just to see how it ends, and lo, there is a moment where the chubby girl gets to smile one of those beatific smiles that warm boys’ hearts and then the boy thinks about how cute she is. I won’t tell you which boy, but I must tell you it’s the one I predicted. *buffs nails on lapel*

I guess what I’m getting at is, “Don’t lose heart! There are manga out there who treat overweight characters with respect. We’re… just… not going to get to read them.”

MJ: And, you know, I’m struggling a little to decide why what you just described feels awesome and not insulting at all, while what I just described feels the opposite… but it really does. I guess it is because that story isn’t about her losing weight, and just about her living life, which overweight people actually do get to do (believe it or not, thin society), when they’re not struggling with feelings about their bodies.

So what do you have for us this week, Michelle? Anything with less rage attached?

MICHELLE: And it doesn’t treat her like she’s some project in need of fixing. If she decides to do it herself, fine, but she doesn’t need some bishounen swooping in with platitudes about diet and exercise.

Anyway, lest I work myself up into a froth over something I haven’t even read, I will instead relate my experience with the first volume of Deltora Quest! This is a new series from Kodansha Comics, based on a series of children’s fantasy books by Australian author Emily Rodda. Sometimes adaptations from Western novels work well, but sometimes they don’t and unfortunately, Deltora Quest falls into the latter category.

The plot—possibly pared down for the manga like the Harlequin releases we’ve discussed in this column in the past—is incredibly generic. In a kingdom called Deltora, Prince Endon and a boy named Jarred—whose father gave his own life to protect the king—are best friends. When Endon’s parents suddenly pass away, his obviously villainous advisor (Prandine) easily convinces him that Jarred is a suspect. Jarred flees to a neighboring village and seven years pass in the space of a panel. Endon eventually finds a note Jarred left him and, realizing Prandine’s treachery, his faith in his friend restored. He summons Jarred back to the palace just as the Shadow Lord (much easier to spot villains when they have names like this as opposed to, say, Brad) attacks. Jarred protects Endon and his pregnant wife, and they pledge to find the seven jewels that have been stolen from the Belt of Deltora, which protects against invasion by the Shadow Lord. About the only unexpected thing in the plot is that, at this point, sixteen more years pass and it looks like Jarred’s son is actually going to be the one going on the jewel quest.

Everything about Deltora Quest feels incredibly superficial, and this isn’t helped at all by the cartoony art, which at times resembles something out of Saint Seiya. I’m not sure why the book is rated Teen instead of All Ages, actually, because I think the most likely audience for it would be kids who’ve already read and enjoyed the book series. I certainly like a good dose of escapist adventure, but this is just too insubstantial for my liking.

MJ: That does sound generic, as you say, and you know, I’m not even really fond of stories like this for very young children, because seriously… they are smarter than grownups usually think. I realize I shouldn’t rush to judgement on the source material, when I’ve seen how poorly novels can be adapted into manga, but… ugh. That’s my general reaction to what you’ve just described. “Ugh.”

MICHELLE: With the way Prandine is drawn, I would be surprised if any kid—like, even a preschooler—couldn’t identify him as the villain within three seconds. There are no surprises here, no twists, no cleverness. It’s just some trite story about questing for jewels. I can only hope the original novels are better. I certainly won’t be reading any more of the manga.

I hope your second offering didn’t fill you with rage!

MJ: It didn’t! Which perhaps should be surprising, but I’ll do my best to explain why it’s not.

My second game-based manga this week was the fourteenth volume of La Corda d’Oro, also about a teen girl surrounded by a harem of bishounen who are in a position to teach her about something. In this case, the subject is music, which honestly is not presented with any more realism than the diet and exercise lessons going on in Ugly Duckling’s Love Revolution, yet, thanks to an array of nicely-developed characters and a little shoujo magic, the process is so much more satisfying.

Of course, it helps that while Kahoko’s bishounen are teaching her about music, she’s teaching them how to be better people—something a few of them sorely need. What’s more, the boys’ transformations are slow and imperfect, making them feel passably real, unlike anything in Ugly Duckling. And though each of the boys is a manga stereotype of one kind or another, their characterizations deepen in later volumes, providing some genuine romantic thrills.

In this volume, tension ramps up as conflicted pianist Ryotaro admits he loves Kahoko, while cutie-pie transfer student Aoi asks her to the school dance. It’s basic reverse-harem stuff, of course, but executed with genuine charm, mainly thanks to Kahoko’s increasingly spunky attitude that’s capable of whipping even secret bad-boy Azuma into a real person. Though it’s hard not to cringe at student violinists repeatedly choosing “Ave Maria” as serious concert material, even the series’ most egregious errors can be ignored in favor of a little heart-pounding romance.

I should mention too, that despite the fact that my background as a music student makes me just as aware of the ludicrousness of La Corda d’Oro‘s take on musical studies as I am of Ugly Duckling‘s horrifying portrayal of teenaged obesity, the effect is simply not the same. It’s one thing to misrepresent someone’s passion, and quite another to misrepresent their pain.

MICHELLE: Someone needs to grab that final sentence and put it on a book cover somewhere!

I was definitely wary of La Corda d’Oro at first, especially as concerned the fairness of a girl who comes by her musical ability magically competing against those who had worked hard for their attainments, but you’ll be happy to know that, based purely on the strength of your love for the series, I have actually now acquired all the available volumes! It’s just a matter of finding the time to read it.

MJ: If it makes you feel better, she definitely learns the hard way later on. Heh.

So what’s your final offering for us tonight?

MICHELLE: That does make me feel better. And speaking of disciplines in which long hours of practice pay off (hopefully) in a competitive realm, my final pick tonight is Takehiko Inoue’s Slam Dunk, specifically volumes sixteen and seventeen. I should admit right up front that I love this story to pieces, so forgive me if I get a little incoherent.

Hanamichi Sakuragi was just a delinquent until a crush on a girl inspired him to check out the basketball team at his school, Shohoku High. Turns out, though, that he’s got natural talent, if he can only quell his ego enough to actually bother learning fundamentals and teamwork. He’s come a long way by volume sixteen—Shohoku is playing in the Kanagawa Prefectural tournament, and has just lost a close game in which their captain sustained an ankle injury. In penance for a costly mistake, Sakuragi turns up at school with a shaved head and devotes himself to intensive practice so as to not let anyone down next time around. Volume seventeen ends just as Shohoku begins the game that will determine whether they proceed to Nationals.

I will be the first to admit that Sakuragi is hard to like at first, but his confidence soon becomes endearing rather than annoying (“Talent and drive! I am the total package.”) and his transformation from someone who thinks he’s hot stuff to someone who realizes that he’s got a lot to learn and is serious about accepting instruction is believable and rewarding. Now, when he achieves a moment of triumph in a game, I actually get verklempt. Inoue has also assembled a terrific cast of teammates and rivals, and it’s to his credit that the chapters dealing with a match-up between two teams that aren’t Shohoku are still quite exciting. I think what elevates this above other some other sports manga is the emphasis on the team dynamic, especially Sakuragi’s rivalry with the gifted Rukawa. If they would only work together, they could be amazing, but they’re not quite there yet.

There’s one drawback to reading Slam Dunk, though. One volume at a time is simply not enough. Even two volumes are not enough. Five or six volumes at a time might be sufficient, but do you know what that works out to in real-world time-to-accumulate? A year! I can’t go a whole year without reading Slam Dunk! I was just looking at the solicitations for future volumes on Amazon, and it looks like the game that starts in volume seventeen doesn’t wrap up until volume 21. It would be ideal to read the entire game in one sitting, but do you know when volume 21 comes out? I will tell you: April. That is 8 months away! Oh, the torment.

MJ: If I can’t quite relate (yet!) to your love for Slam Dunk, as a big fan of Real, I certainly can to your love of Inoue and basketball. Oh, the pain of shounen sports manga, though! So sorry about that 8 month wait! You’ll have to spend your time catching up on his other works!

MICHELLE: Yes, I do have nine volumes of Real (volume ten coming in November!) and ten VIZBIG editions of Vagabond to sustain me. Ooh, and the anime is streaming legally in a couple of places. *strokes imaginary goatee*

MJ: I suspect you’ll make it through, then.

MICHELLE: Yes, I am two minutes into the first of 101 anime episodes and already I am feeling much better.

MJ: *pats*

Bookshelf Briefs 4/4/11

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This week, MJ, Kate, David, & Michelle take a look at seven ongoing series from Viz Media and Yen Press.

Bakuman, vol. 4 | Story by Tsugumi Ohba, Art by Takeshi Obata | Viz Media – After an unsatisfying summer, Mashiro and Takagi call it quits, only to discover that they’re more suited to each other than they thought. Meanwhile, girlfriends Azuki and Miyoshi make their own choices about how best to move forward in their careers and relationships. Though this series’ two leads are its least sympathetic characters, a bit of petty jealousy between friends goes a long way towards making them into people we can care about, or at least understand. Azuki and Miyoshi become more fully realized too, and if Miyoshi’s decision to chuck her own plans in favor of her man is depressing as hell, it’s depressingly realistic. Though the series’ inside look at Jump is still its most compelling aspect, it’s nice to feel that characterization is beginning to catch up. Gender politics aside, Bakuman is still the most interesting new shounen series I’ve read in the past year. Oddly recommended. – MJ

Laon, vol. 5 | Story by YoungBin Kim, Art by Hyun You | Yen Press – By all rights, Laon should be awesome: it’s the story of a tabloid reporter who gets the scoop of his life when he accidentally stumbles across a gumiho, or fox demon, who’s living among humans as she tries to collect her missing tails. Unfortunately, Laon tries to be too many things at once — a horror story, a journalism satire, a mystery, a romance — resulting in a narrative hodgepodge. Artist Hyun You shows a remarkable gameness for drawing whatever crazy scenarios dreamed up by YoungBin Kim, but struggles to make these scenarios feel like an organic part of the narrative; an underwater fight scene involving sea monsters and demonic piranha is undeniably cool, but serves little dramatic purpose. The frenetic pacing is a further detriment, making it hard for the reader to develop an affinity for any of the characters. File under “Unrealized Potential.” -Katherine Dacey

Library Wars: Love & War, Vol. 4 | by Hiro Arikawa and Kiiro Yumi| Viz Media – SLibrary Wars: Love & War is the story of Iku Kasahara, a corporal in a military task force set up to protect libraries from government censorship. In its purest essence, the series can be perfectly summed up with this line from the back cover of volume four: “What Iku lacks in training she more than makes up for in gumption.” In this latest installment, Iku has been taken hostage by a group protesting the transfer of sensitive materials from a private museum to library custody. While I’m still disappointed that Iku isn’t at least a little bit smarter, she’s definitely courageous, and when her commanding officer expresses absolute confidence in her ability to emerge from the situation unscathed, I found it easier to buy into their burgeoning romance. Too bad I can’t buy any of the characters as actual soldiers! – Michelle Smith

Natsume’s Book of Friends, vol. 4 | by Yuki Midorikawa | Viz Media – The fourth volume of Natsume’s Book of Friends finds Natsume and Nyanko assisting a pair of guardian spirits, one of whom has been so corrupted by her deep anger towards the local villagers that she’s destroying the woods and fields she once protected. The story is eerie and poignant, a sobering reminder of how quickly faith can curdle into despair. The subsequent chapters prove nearly as good as the first, with Natsume falling victim to a demonic painting, and Nyanko reluctantly aiding a child who falls down a well. For all the heart and imagination behind these stories, however, Natsume’s Book of Friends could be better. The art is sometimes flat and lifeless, and the dialogue too pointedly obvious for readers who want to draw their own conclusions about how they’re supposed to feel — in short, it’s perfectly respectable comfort food, but lacks a truly distinctive flavor. – Katherine Dacey

Rosario + Vampire Season II, vol. 4 | by Akihisa Ikeda | Viz Media – This was my introduction to the Rosario + Vampire franchise, and I strongly suspect it will also be my farewell. For those who don’t know, it’s a harem fantasy-adventure about a human boy who ends up going to a school for monsters and has drawn the romantic attention of a bunch of different supernatural girls (the titular vampire, a succubus, a fairy, and a couple of witches). It’s nowhere near as offensive as harem manga can get, but it’s ploddingly average in so many ways that you almost hope it will start offending you to keep your attention. I have no idea why these powerful girls are so smitten with dull Tsukune. Maybe it’s because he’s the only boy in the book. – David Welsh

Slam Dunk, vol. 15 | by Takehiko Inoue | Viz Media – I’m a devoted fan of Inoue’s Real (also from Viz), his saga about wheelchair basketball players. While his illustrations for Slam Dunk are absolutely dazzling, practically charging off the page, this series always strikes me as a sports manga where it’s necessary to be interested in either the sport, sports manga as a genre, or both. It’s an impressive achievement that he manages to stretch 90 seconds of play over six chapters, but I keep wishing I could find out more about these characters as something other than athletes. It’s kind of like yaoi where you don’t see anything but romantic trauma and sex. That said, I don’t think you’re likely to find action sequences that are drawn better in just about any comic from any country. – David Welsh

We Were There, vol. 12 | by Yuki Obata | Viz Media – With Yano’s sudden reappearance in Tokyo, “anxiety” is the real essence of this volume, with no ready relief in sight. And though this is not a bad thing by any means, it certainly left my stomach in knots. Obata’s talent for emotional torture is formidable indeed, but to focus on that would do a great disservice to her real talent, nuance. There is no absolute truth in We Were There, no certainty about right and wrong in the hearts of its characters or its author. Yet Obata proves that “gray” is not the same as “cold,” which is part of what makes this a great shoujo manga. Like the series’ light, wispy artwork, every moment is as fragile as a scrap of antique lace, and every bit as beautiful. Still recommended. – MJ

Two by Inoue: Slam Dunk & Real

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Slam Dunk, Vols. 1-2
By Takehiko Inoue
Published by Viz Media

Red-haired tough guy Hanamichi Sakuragi just can’t get a girl. After a string of rejections in junior high, he finally meets pretty Haruko on his first day of high school. Trouble is, Haruko already has a huge crush on a junior high basketball star who has also enrolled at their school! Determined to win Haruko’s heart, Hanamichi decides to join the basketball team. He’s a huge, strong guy with a lot of natural ability. Unfortunately, he’s also brash, self-involved, and utterly lacking in maturity or emotional boundaries. Can Hanamichi ever learn to be a team player?

On one hand, Slam Dunk is an extreme example of a typical shonen sports manga, with its overblown characters, outrageous rivalries, and intense focus on winning. On the other, it is a fresh, lighthearted look at a guy who just can’t seem to catch a break, despite a level of optimism previously unknown to mankind.

It’s not that Hanamichi never wins, of course. The guy can’t lose in a fight, and he even manages to win (sort of) against Haruko’s brother Akagi (who also happens to be the captain of the basketball team) in an epic game of one-on-one. What he can’t win, no matter how he tries, is the girl, and it’s somehow refreshing to meet a shonen sports hero whose real focus is far, far from the game. Also, while Hanamichi’s myopic pig-headedness makes him generally insufferable, it’s also the key to his charm.

There’s a scene in the second volume, for instance, in which the captain of the school’s judo team attempts to lure Hanamichi away from basketball by offering him some photographs of Haruko in exchange. After a series of conversations consisting basically of, “So, will you join the team?” “No.” “But don’t you want the photos?” “I do!” it finally becomes clear that Hanamichi intends to refuse the captain’s offer and simply take the photos by force. Though the scene does nothing to improve Hanamichi’s image as a hopeless brute, it is surprisingly satisfying to see the judo captain’s tired scheme dismissed so easily.

Another strength of the series is its supporting characters. Though Hanamichi’s strong and silent love rival, Rukawa, is barely seen in these early volumes, basketball captain Akagi is already a powerful character. Mature enough to separate his personal dislike of Hanamichi from his responsibilities as captain, he displays the beginnings of the kind of depth and nuance found in Inoue’s later seinen series, Real. Also notable is the basketball team’s manager, Ayako, who is very much welcome as a confident, athletic, female presence on the testosterone-heavy court.

Inoue’s art is similarly refreshing, with a clean, easy-to-follow quality too rare in shonen manga. The artwork is quite expressive as well, revealing a real investment in the characters and a genuine love of the game.

Though the real action gets a slow start in favor of important characterization (and some less impressive class hi-jinx), Slam Dunk shows its potential right from the beginning. Just two volumes in, it’s not difficult to see why it’s a popular series on both sides of the Pacific. Recommended.

This review is a part of Shonen Sundays, a collaborative project with Michelle Smith.

*****

Real, Vols. 1-8
By Takehiko Inoue
Published by Viz Media

Tomomi Nomiya is a high school dropout, consumed by guilt over his involvement in a motorcycle accident that leaves a young woman without the use of her legs. Kiyoharu Togawa is a former junior high runner whose struggle with bone cancer costs him his right leg below the knee. Hisanobu Takahashi is a high school basketball hotshot who becomes paralyzed from the chest down after colliding with a truck while riding a stolen bicycle. What these three teens all have in common is a passion for basketball.

It’s not quite fair to compare this series to Takehiko Inoue’s earlier basketball series, Slam Dunk. After all, Slam Dunk is written for young boys, and Real for adults. Still, with both series being released concurrently in English, its difficult to resist. Though Slam Dunk contains the seeds of a great basketball manga, it is through Real that Inoue is able to express not only his real love of the game, but his real insight into the human condition.

The main action of the series revolves around the Tigers, a wheelchair basketball team with which Togawa maintains a fairly tormented relationship over the course of the series’ early volumes. It’s this team that brings Togawa and Nomiya together to begin with (in a sort of roundabout way). And though Takahashi has (as of volume eight) still just barely begun rehabilitation that might make it possible for him to one day participate in wheelchair basketball, it feels inevitable that he’ll end up there at some point. The basketball scenes in this series are intense, in a very different way from the super-fueled play in Slam Dunk, and entirely gripping even for non-fans of the game.

What’s most impressive about this series, however, is Inoue’s ability to get inside his characters’ heads and transform their thoughts and feelings into compelling narrative. Enormous chunks of the later volumes, for instance, involve Takahashi’s bitterness over his father leaving him as a child, torment over his current condition, and his inability to adjust to his new body.

Inoue not only brings Takahashi’s memories to life with a series of powerful flashbacks, he also focuses heavily on Takahashi’s grueling rehabilitation process, with a level of realism that kicks your average training montage squarely in the behind. Yet, through all this, Inoue deftly steers clear of allowing his story become mired in its own weight. Even the series’ heaviest sequences are a true pleasure to read.

Something that seems important to note, and possibly why Real is able to avoid becoming intolerably dark, is that it’s clear from the beginning that Inoue genuinely likes people. Despite the fact that each of his characters has endured terrible heartbreak, pain, and various levels of personal misery (not to mention that most of them have also been responsible for causing significant pain to others), Real is far from cynical. There is no overarching disappointment in humanity here, no deep bitterness, no long-winded speeches about the unavoidable fallibility of the species. Even his characters’ most bitter reflections are directed toward individuals rather than humanity as a whole.

Inoue’s artwork in this series is impressively mature. Without the attractive sheen of Slam Dunk‘s shonen sensibility, the world of Real is unpolished and gritty. Inoue’s early expressiveness is even more pronounced in this series, and much more detailed. Also, despite some great dialogue, Inoue lets his artwork do the bulk of the storytelling. Important moments are played out visually, panel-to-panel, without the need for any narration or extraneous dialogue to pick up the slack.

Both heart-wrenching and down-to-earth, this series makes the most of its human drama, both on and off the court, without ever sinking into melodrama. Simply put, Real is real. Highly recommended.

Review copies of vols. 5-8 provided by the publisher.