Takashi Nagasaki

King of Eden, Vol. 1

November 11, 2020 by Katherine Dacey

Is it too soon to enjoy a pandemic-themed manga? That question was foremost in my mind as I read King of Eden, a new thriller that pits a group of globe-trotting scientists against an assortment of terrorist organizations that have weaponized a lethal virus. I’m happy to report that King of Eden didn’t remind me of the COVID crisis, but it did something arguably worse: it bored me.

The dullness of the story is all the more surprising for a series written by Takashi Nagasaki, Naoki Urasawa’s collaborator on such entertaining pot-boilers as Monster, Master Keaton, and 20th Century Boys. All of Nagasaki’s worst tendencies are on display in King of Eden: there are pointless flashbacks to the main characters’ childhoods, solemn monologues about the Old Testament, long-winded conversations about global terrorism, and an interminable lecture on the ancient Scythians that name-checks Herodotus because… why not? Though the first volume introduces a dizzying number of characters, Nagasaki barely fleshes them out. Even leads Rua Itsuki and Teze Yoo feel more like skill sets than actual people, as evidenced by an on-the-nose exchange in which a bureaucrat recites Dr. Itsuki’s resume and reminds her that she “hold[s] a black belt in Tae Kwon Do” and is “proficient in the Israeli martial art of Krav Maga” as if she didn’t know these things about herself.

None of this would matter, of course, if King of Eden were entertaining, but Nagasaki is so intent on world-building that he overwhelms the reader with information, all delivered in such earnest, exhaustive detail it saps the narrative momentum. Itsuki and Yoo cross paths with MI-6 agents, WHO officials, IRA terrorists, crazy archaeologists, Interpol officers, and zombies—ZOMBIES, for Pete’s sake!—yet none of these encounters are memorable. Had Nagasaki placed more trust in artist SangCheol Lee (a.k.a. Ignito), King of Eden might have been a brisker, more imaginative entry in the zombie canon.

The first chapter offers a tantalizing glimpse of that potential partnership. Gone are the long-winded speeches; instead, Lee drops the reader into the action alongside two police officers who stumble across a baffling, gruesome scene. After the officers arrest a potential suspect, Lee skillfully cross-cuts between two spaces at the local precinct—an interrogation room and the morgue—allowing us to glimpse what’s unfolding in each room, and to feel the policemen’s growing unease. Lee’s crack pacing keeps the reader invested in the characters’ fate, building to a satisfying reveal of the carnage’s true source: a hideous, lantern-jawed creature that’s part werewolf, part zombie.

Alas, that cinematic flair disappears as soon as the characters begin talking; the next two chapters consist of information dumps punctuated by the occasional fist fight or car chase. By the time Nagasaki and Lee introduce a vampire arms dealer near the end of volume one, it barely registers as a major development. And that, in a nutshell, is what’s wrong with King of Eden: the story is so overstuffed with characters and events that I couldn’t muster the energy for another 15 or 100 chapters of talking heads explaining zombie behavior or Scythian culture just to figure out who this vampire is, and why he matters.

Yen Press provided a review copy of volume one.

KING OF EDEN, VOL. 1 • STORY BY TAKASHI NAGASAKI • ART BY IGNITO • TRANSLATED BY CALEB COOK • LETTERING BY ABIGAIL BLACKMAN • RATED OLDER TEEN (16+) • 384 pp.

My Week in Manga: March 14-March 20, 2016

March 21, 2016 by Ash Brown

My News and Reviews

I managed to post two in-depth manga reviews at Experiments in Manga last week, though it looks like I’ll only be posting one this coming week since taiko will be keeping me pretty busy with a number of different performances and related events. Inio Asano’s A Girl on the Shore was the first manga that I reviewed last week. Like the rest of Asano’s work that I’ve read, it can be emotionally intense and hard-hitting at times, but it’s very well done. As part of my monthly horror manga review project, last week I also took a look Mushishi, Volumes 8, 9, and 10, the final installment in the English-language release of Yuki Urushibara’s award-winning debut. Although I’ve reached the end of the series proper, I’m planning on at least more Mushishi-related post before I’m through.

Elsewhere online: The BBC has an interesting piece on Keiko Takemiya—The godmother of manga sex in Japan. Rokudenashiko was interviewed by the Anne Ishii of MASSIVE about controversial art and free speech. Otaku USA posted an interview with translator and scholar Frederik L. Schodt about his work and Osamu Tezuka. An interview with Steve Oliff, the colorist who worked on Marvel’s release of Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira, was posted at Anime News Network. In licensing news, Dark Horse has picked up the Psycho-Pass: Inspector Shinya Kogami manga written by Midori Goto and illustrated by Natsuo Sai. Finally, the Skip Beat! crowdfunding effort that I mentioned a couple weeks ago has moved from Indiegogo to Kickstarter.

Quick Takes

Dream Fossil: The Complete Stories of Satoshi Kon by Satoshi Kon. Compiling fifteen of Kon’s short manga from between 1984 and 1989, as well as an essay by Susumu Hirasawa (which was a pleasant surprise), Dream Fossil is a somewhat peculiar volume which will probably be of most interest to Kon enthusiasts although other readers may find parts of it appealing as well. As is the case with so many collections, some stories are much stronger than others. Some of the unevenness can likely be attributed to the fact that Dream Fossil consists of Kon’s early works in which his narrative techniques were still being refined and developed. I actually found myself frustrated with some of the stories because they read less like manga and more like a storyboard or broad outline for a more involved work; some of the stories and ideas seem like they would have been better conveyed through animation rather than sequential art. Even so, as a whole I did enjoy Dream Fossil. While the storytelling itself was sometimes weak, the underlying concepts and imagery were great.

Master Keaton, Volumes 2-4 written by Hokusei Katsushika and Takashi Nagasaki and illustrated by Naoki Urasawa. It’s been some time since I read the first volume of Master Keaton, but being a fairly episodic series without much of an overarching story it wasn’t at all difficult to fall right back into the manga. I first picked up Master Keaton because of Urasawa’s involvement with the manga. This is still a major draw for me, but I continue to read the series because I genuinely enjoy the stories and characters. Keaton is sent all over the world to investigate a wide range of cases, so there’s plenty of variety in the manga’s stories as well. Although the series’ drama, action and adventure is certainly engaging, I especially like the chapters that take advantage of Keaton’s archaeological and academic interests. Master Keaton, while fictionalized, makes use of actual people, places, and events, which I like. (I’ve even learned a few factual tidbits from the manga.) Occasionally the series does get bogged down in historical details that don’t necessarily further the story, though.

The Tipping Point edited by Alex Donoghue and Tim Pilcher. Published as part of the fortieth anniversary celebrations of the comics publisher Humanoids, The Tipping Point collects thirteen short works from creators influenced by Japanese, Franco-Belgian, and American comics traditions. The anthology specifically caught my attention due to the mangaka involved—Taiyo Matsumoto, Atsushi Kaneko, Naoki Urasawa, Keiichi Koike, and Katsuya Terada—although the European and American creators are notable in their own right. (Sadly, though the collection touts its own innovation and diversity, only male creators are represented, something that is quickly glossed over in the introduction.) I greatly enjoyed the individual comics which range in subject, genre, and tone, but as a collection The Tipping Point seems to be missing a sense of cohesiveness and context. In the end, I was left wondering why these particular creators and why these particular works were selected to be brought together. Perhaps the theme of a “tipping point” was simply too vague or broad.

My Week in Manga: December 15-December 21, 2014

December 22, 2014 by Ash Brown

My News and Reviews

Last week was another week with two reviews here at Experiments in Manga. My monthly horror manga review project is now underway, so I took a look at Setona Mizushiro’s After School Nightmare, Volume 1, which is a very intriguing start to the series. Next month I’ll start in on the in-depth reviews for Yuki Urushibara Mushishi and continue to alternate between the two series until the review project is completed. Last week I also reviewed The Early Cases of Akechi Kogorō by Edogawa Rampo, which I was very excited to read. The volume collects four of the earliest stories featuring Rampo’s great detective. And over at Manga Bookshelf proper, I and the rest of the Manga Bookshelf bloggers talked a little about the Manga the Year of 2014, noting some of our favorite things from the past year. Like I did last year, later this week I’ll also be posting my own list of notable releases from 2014.

I’m still extraordinarily busy at work as I settle into being the temporary boss of my unit for the next seven months or so, so I’ve been a bit preoccupied and haven’t had a chance to closely follow what’s going on in the mangasphere these days. However, I did still manage to catch a few interesting things to read online. Jason Thompson’s most recent House of 1000 Manga column focuses on Learn English with JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure, which I am now determined to track down. J. R. Brown has an introductory post to Boys in Skirts, her series of article and reviews focusing on otokonoko at Mode: Verbose. I also came across a fascinating post about the popularity of the Year 24 Group. I’m not familiar with the author or the blog, but it looks like it should have other promising manga articles as well.

Quick Takes

Angel Sanctuary, Volumes 16-20 by Kaori Yuki. Here it is, the tumultuous conclusion to the epic Angel Sanctuary. By the end of the series, Yuki actually does manage to pull everything together in a way that mostly makes sense and proves that she actually can kill off a main character, something that I had my doubts about. I know a fair number of people who adore Angel Sanctuary, but while there were some things I really liked about the series, overall I found it pretty frustrating. Maybe I just wasn’t paying close enough attention, but more often than not I found Angel Sanctuary to be confusing and difficult to follow with a huge cast of characters, none of whom are exactly who they initially appear to be, and plot twist after plot twist. Granted, that did mean the series was consistently drama-filled. But with a little more editorial guidance, Angel Sanctuary could have been something phenomenal instead of just good. I did appreciate the manga’s core, however. Love is the driving force behind Angel Sanctuary. All of the characters are dealing with love in one way or another; it is the source of tremendous good as well as tremendous evil, but in the end it is shown to be a redemptive force.

Master Keaton, Volume 1 written by Hokusei Katsushika and Takashi Nagasaki and illustrated by Naoki Urasawa. One of the many reasons that I became so enamored with manga was thanks to Urasawa’s series Pluto, so I’m always curious and excited when a new work of his is licensed in English. Admittedly, Master Keaton, while newly translated, is one of Urasawa’s older collaborations that began in the late 1980s. The titular Keaton (technically Hiraga-Keaton) is a half-Japanese, half-English archaeology professor who works as an insurance investigator on the side. He also used to be a member of the British Army’s Special Air Service, which adds survival skills and combat experience to his already impressive and eclectic set of talents. I enjoyed the first volume of Master Keaton. The manga has a nice mix of action and adventure, mystery and detective work, and even a bit of family drama. Occasionally it can be a little heavy on politics and history which interrupts the series’ pacing, but generally the slower parts are interesting, too. It’s also worth mentioning that the book design and production quality of Viz’s release of Master Keaton is particularly nice.

Open Spaces and Closed Places, Volumes 1-6 by Saicoink. I don’t remember exactly when or how I first heard about the mini-comic series Open Spaces and Closed Places, but it was recently brought to my attention again when Saicoink released the sixth and final volume. I finally got around to reading the series, and I absolutely loved it. Jirou is the boss of the delinquents at his school. When he isn’t busy getting into fights, he’s pining for Oscar, the president of the student council. Oscar likes Jirou, too, but for various reasons doesn’t feel he can accept his love, and so spends much of his time teasing the other boy instead. It’s a delightful relationship, both adorable and sad at the same time. Soon after Open Spaces and Closed Places begins, fantastical elements are introduced and the series becomes more and more surreal as it goes, culminating in a spectacular dream sequence. Saicoink specifically mentions drawing inspiration from Suehiro Maruo and Usamaru Furuya. While their influence can be seen in Open Spaces and Closed Places, the series isn’t as grotesque or as graphic as some of their works, though its humor is still accompanied by some amount darkness and tragedy. It’s a sinister, strange, and wonderful series.

Sankarea: Undying Love, Volume 9 by Mitsuru Hattori. Sometimes Sankarea is all about its horror, sometimes it’s all about its peculiar romantic comedy, and sometimes it manages to be about both. The ninth volume is generally successful in balancing the series’ two opposing aspects, though the comedy has definitely taken a turn for the serious. Hattori does still find plenty of opportunities to add a bit of fanservice to the manga, this time mostly in the form of dressing Rea up in a variety of revealing costumes and outfits, often for no better reason than she looks cute in them. But even with those largely unnecessary diversions, the plot does continue to move along nicely in the ninth volume. Chihiro and most of the rest of his group have made their escape from ZoMA and return to Japan. Rea is suffering from amnesia though and doesn’t remember Chihiro or their relationship. Often I’m annoyed by the memory loss trope in manga—frequently it’s the result of bad or lazy writing—but for the most part it actually works pretty well in Sankarea. I still like the quirkiness of the characters in Sankarea, but Bub the undead cat remains my favorite by far.