Tag Archives: Highly Recommended

Review: Limit, Vols. 1-2

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Limit, Vol. 1Limit, Vols. 1-2
Written and Illustrated by Keiko Suenobu
Genre: Shojo/Survival/Horror
Publisher: Vertical Inc.
176 pages | $10.95 US, $11.95 CND
ISBN-13: 978-1935654568 (vol. 1)
ISBN-13: 978-1935654575 (vol. 2)

Seeing Vertical get into shojo was a bit of a surprise. Princess Knight, a Tezuka classic, was a highly demanded piece of work from the Tezuka fan-base that Vertical has cultured, so it wasn’t a surprise to see that published, but Limit is arguably their first attempt to break into a vampires, glitter, and flowers market (I say this endearingly, since the majority of manga I read is shojo).

Please note that this review may contain spoilers. Find out how to win the first two volumes of the series here!

Despite the genre it has been lumped into, Limit certainly follows Vertical‘s edgy, indie ethos. The story follows Mizuki Konno, a self-described “popular girl” who hangs with the right people in school and does the right things to stay popular. On the outside, she is bubbly, careless, but cute, hiding a calculating and stone-cold personality. Her clique picks on a few people, but none more than Morishige, a tarot otaku, making her the brunt of jokes and putting her in situations that embarrass her. The beginning of the book is very Mean Girls, but things suddenly change when the school trip to a week-long camp-out crashes deep into the Japanese forest. Suddenly, the matriarch of Konno’s clan is dead, and the girl at the bottom of the heap, Morishge, now controls the group of survivors with social manipulation and by wielding a scythe (a “tool” brought a long to the camp to cut long grass).

The power twist and destruction of social order in Limit is very reminiscent of Lord of the Flies. Controlling the one weapon gives Morishige all the power, and her rage at being tormented by her peers corrupts her decision-making. There are survival things going on here too, like catching fish and collecting other food, but the real action is Morishige’s maniacal leadership. Seeing how Konno and the other girls in the group react to Morishige is the strength of Limit, and its real draw for me in future volumes (plus a major plot twist I won’t reveal here at the end of volume 2).

Limit, Vol. 2Keiko Suenobu has had another piece of work published in the USA (Life, which was published in 2006 by TOKYOPOP) and her art seems to have improved substantially since that time. Limit is gorgeous. Great shading, dynamic panels, and some of the best power and action lines I’ve seen in shojo manga (or any manga for that matter) to date. Suenobu’s characters are well drawn and well conceived. Morishige as a tarot otaku is a great touch in the middle of volume one; the creepiness of the girl sitting in the middle of a pentagram performing tarot ritual is almost unbearable after seeing some of the proceeding scenes.

One thing that I don’t understand about Limit is its proposed audience. While Vertical claims it is a shojo manga (Limit was published in Bessatsu Friend a manga anthology for teenage girls, and the original publication place of The Wallflower, My Heavenly Hockey Club, Othello, and Mars) it doesn’t seem to fall in line with any of the shojo trends that are currently popular. This doesn’t mean it’s not good manga, just that I find it hard to accept that the target age group is going to really dig Limit. I expect that Limit is more likely to be read by horror fans, josei/seinen fans, and less by those looking for a standard rom-com.

For my money, Limit is one of the better series released in 2012. It has amazing art, really interesting social power interactions, and a riveting storyline. 2013 is going to be a great year of manga because of Limit.


For Fans Of: The Lord of the Flies, Mean Girls, revenge thrillers, any survival story ever
Final Verdict: Highly Recommended

Review: A Zoo In Winter

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Over the past three years, I have come to admire the work of Jiro Taniguchi. Through The Quest for the Missing Girl and A Distant Neighborhood, I have come to appreciate Taniguchi’s masterful draftmanship, his unique stories, and his strength as both a writer and a cartoonist. Of all his great qualities throughout books adapted by Fanfare/Ponent Mon, I have noticed one key feature, one slight detriment to his impressive works: Taniguchi has a difficulty creating people. His characters are impressively constructed, but like the craggy cliffs and towering skyscrapers he so ornately crafts, they are inscrutable. It is hard to understand their emotions, and their faces are mask-like in quality. And while the beauties of the scene that surround each character are readily apparent, the beauties of the characters themselves are often hidden behind a wall.

In A Zoo in Winter, Taniguchi sets his sights on himself – and thereby, other people.  The focus he puts into drawing the emotions of his characters is equal if not greater than the usual care he devotes to mountains and background bustle of a living city. You can’t tell a memoir (or as close to it as Taniguchi is going to get) without talking about other people, and this is a welcome change for Taniguchi. The book is a de-masking of sorts, and the end result is captivating.

The main character, Hamaguchi, works at a textiles manufacturing company, harboring future dreams of designing custom textiles and being an artist. He spends his time alone, or, when forced, with the daughter of his boss, taking her on excursions. He unwittingly aids and abets her elopement, which causes him to eventually quit his job. After leaving the textile manufacturer, he moves to Tokyo. From there, he takes on a job as a mangaka’s assistant, and becomes part Japan’s comic trade.

We see Hamaguchi struggle with his past – his interaction with his older brother is especially telling, since Hamaguchi is unwilling to believe that he and the old world of his family could ever  be able to connect. His brother, 10 years his senior, descends from what seems like on-high to this 18 year-old artist, and becomes, for a moment, a benevolent, nonjudgmental force in Hamaguchi’s life. This moment of A  Zoo in Winter is especially interesting, because it forces Hamaguchi to develop as a person. He is forced to reconcile his past with his present, and in the end, proves to his brother that what he is doing is something he loves to do. His brother, for his own part, is trying to care for both mother and brother, and in a way that hurts neither of them. It is a well-crafted moment.

As Hamaguchi stumbles from one project to the next under a major mangaka, he is introduced to other aspiring writers, call girls, bar matrons, and revolutionary folk-singers, all of whom redefine the world of Hamaguchi. At points, he loses track of his world and becomes a part of dive bars and nightclubs, full of alcohol and vigor. As he recovers from his poor behavior, he learns the hard way that people are complicated, sometimes broken things.

Hamaguchi’s relationship with his art is a fickle thing. At times he seems divinely inspired, and at other times, is found staring at walls, completely stymied. The newfound manga career of Hamaguchi seems to be at a standstill for quite a bit of time – Taniguchi assures us that this introduction to manga is not a brilliant adventure (like the pages of Bakuman might suggest), but a slow, bumbling journey. Finally, Hamaguchi finds purpose and love in a brilliant mind and a pair of frail arms. His budding relationship and his often child-like behavior when things don’t go his way are very true to life, and so appropriate for his age. He is immature and naive, but still tries to bring his best to the drawing table, and to his relationship with Mari. Together, he and his muse devise a story that can make it to the pages of “Shonen Holiday,” and through her kind and gentle persuasion, he is able to find himself as an artist.

The story of Hamaguchi may be a semi-autobiographical account of Taniguchi and his beginnings as a mangaka, but it delves into the mind and heart, expressing the strength and creativity of the human spirit in its relationship to love. Along the way,  A Zoo in Winter tells us that we must not be afraid to humble ourselves, find ourselves, and live with ourselves. More importantly, it teaches us that we must find the courage to and conviction to live with others.

A review copy of this book was provided by the publisher. A Zoo in Winter makes its international debut at San Diego Comic-Con, July 21st-24th.

Review: Bunny Drop, Vol. 1-3

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Bunny Drop Vol. 3
Written and Illustrated by Yumi Unita
Publsiher: Yen Press
Age Rating: Teen
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Price: $12.99 ($14.50 CAN)
ISBN: 978-0-7595-3120-8

I’ve been fairly candid in the past about mentioning my love for Bunny Drop, a Yen Press title with a twice-yearly release. The series so far has been an absolute delight to read. I’ve neglected reviewing the first two volumes, so I will try to rectify that issue with a review of the third volume.

Bunny Drop, for anyone who hasn’t read it yet, is the story of a single man who adopts his grandfather’s illegitimate child after he passes away. Daikichi, a salaryman who works in sales at a small company, now has the responsibility of taking care of this child, Rin. The entire process isn’t trivialized – we see Daikichi go through the steps of getting Rin signed up for schools, getting her a desk, going shopping for her, and all the while stepping down from a much busier position at work to a lower paying job that gives him more freedom so that he can make sure to pick up Rin from school and be there for her. Bunny Drop has its funny moments, but they are more subtle, and more gentle than the similar Yotsuba&!.

Daikichi also attempts to discover who Rin’s birth mother is, and finds out piece by piece who she is, and arranges a meeting with her to discuss Rin’s future. Subsequent meetings help delve into Rin’s life before she was adopted, and this interaction seems to add a certain weightiness to the entire book. While it would seem natural to heap anger and blame on Rin’s mother for abandoning her child, the story is much more complex. Unita does not let her story become so simple as to allow readers to heedlessly take sides –like real life, both sides have their own stories.

Unita seems determined to create a cast of memorable, true to life characters, and has done really well with Bunny Drop. We get to see Daikichi’s co-workers and the other single mom who’s son hangs out with Rin quite a bit. We see Daikichi deal with Rin’s birth mother, and the advances of a manipulative newbie at his workplace. The whole story is so… complete that it is hard to remember  at times that Rin and Daikichi are not real people.

Another interesting thing about Bunny Drop is the unconventional art style. Unita uses a light hand when illustrating, and most panels are devoid of any shading or shadow – instead, she uses textures and screen tone in forms, which gives the art a very unique look compared to most shojo or josei manga. This doesn’t make the book look unprofessional or poorly illustrated – in fact, it is quite the opposite. Bunny Drop looks beautiful, and definitely has a distinctive style virtually unmatched in Japanese comics.

I have heard things are about to drastically change for this series, so I hope that further volumes retain the simple charm of the first three volumes. Bunny Drop, so far, is an emotionally honest comic that looks at the challenges and rewards of adoption and parenthood – I highly recommend these first three volumes. They are a refreshing change of pace from super powers and ninja tabi.

Moving Review: Otomen, Vol. 1

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Otomen, Vol. 1, Written and Illustrated by Aya Kano
Viz Media Shojo Beat
ISBN 9781421521862, 208 pgs.
$4.99 US digital (iPod & iPad only); $8.99 US

If you haven’t seen one of my moving reviews, please give a look at my last review of Monkey High, vol. 1. The results of a review are the following:

Keep: I liked the book enough to pack it up!
Donate: I liked it or think that others will like it, so I will donate it to the local library system
Trash: I didn’t like this book, and I wouldn’t donate it (eeek!)

One of the great new things about technology is the ability to have your books wherever you like as long as you have your digital device with you. While I certainly appreciate having a physical book and feeling the paper, smelling the ink, and experiencing the raw, unfettered joy of reading, I also enjoy being able to slip multitudes of books into my pocket, and the ability to read during downtime, long bus and car rides, and basically wherever I want. That is why when the Viz Manga App first hit the iPad shortly after the tablet’s debut, I was extremely excited. I would be able to take a whole stack of manga with me on the road. Now, with the iPod App, I can keep all my books between both devices and reread manga whenever I like.

Another good thing about the Viz Manga App is that allows me to check out series that I haven’t read or seen before at a discount price from their retail selling points, and that was good enough for me to check out the first volume of Otomen. Even more exciting, I picked up the volume during Viz‘s March Madness sale and got the first volume for a dollar; you can’t beat that price!

Otomen is a shojo manga about a high school boy named Asuka who is proficient in kendo and other martial arts and spends most of his time at school trying to be the manliest man possible – except that on the inside, he loves crochet, sewing, and cooking. In this first volume, we see him fall in love with Ryo, a girl who is fairly manly.

The premise of Otomen is really quite cute, but, without proper management, could have been pretty terrible. We’ve seen other manga with reversed gender roles (Ai Ore comes to mind) that have been schlock, and others (W Juliet, anyone) that weren’t really that… well, interesting. The whole premise would be fairly predictable, but a third main character, Juta Tanibacha, spices things up nicely as a mangaka who writes Asuka’s favorite manga series Love Chick (which is obviously based on Asuka and Ryo’s relationship, except their genders are reversed).

Despite previous attempts at this type of story, I think that Otomen is probably the best crafted that I have read. The characters are very well developed and the events in the plot, while a bit episodic, are also very basic and don’t try to complicate the general plot line. The first whole volume we see Juta crafting his manga while Asuka sputters about trying to work up the courage to ask Ryo out on a date. Seeing Juta help Asuka work through his problems and try to maintain friendship with his “muse” is really quite amusing, and still stays true to the idea of the story.The whole mangaka writing a story about two characters inside a manga is enjoyable meta-humor that I think is something rarely seen in shojo published in the US, and it is what makes Otomen such a great read.

The art is also wonderful – and yes, I realize that while I normally hate on the hearts, flowers, stars, and glitter, they are quite appropriate given the subject matter, and their use is never cloying, so I can put up with it in Otomen. The art is a subtle mix of shojo and shonen characteristics, which I liked, since there is plenty of “cool tough guy action” as well as stuffed bunnies and ornate bento lunches. I also appreciated the fact that Love Chick, the fictional manga-within-a-manga has completely different art than Otomen, which seems obvious, but is a nice touch.

As far as the digital delivery, Viz Media has done an excellent job with their manga app on the iPad and iPod. Books are easily downloaded and purchased in-app, and also easily read. While I dislike the fact that other tablet users and PC users are unable to access this content, it is a great delivery system for Apple devices. The cost per volume is also very acceptable, since at $4.99 I feel as though I am getting a pretty good deal for my entertainment dollar. Free samples allow you to view the first chapter of the fist volume of any series on the app, which is a good choice, and helped me decide to start reading Otomen. The advent of the Viz manga app will definitely not change my love for the written page, but I will most likely begin to follow specific series on the iPad because I am not necessarily that rushed to get them and I really like the price point. I am glad that Viz has entered the fray with this iPad/iPod app, and hope that they will continue to expand their offerings to other platforms.

As far as Otomen goes, I think it is great fun – it is whimsical and breezy and still has enough depth to satisfy those with tastes for more complicated stories. I am interested to see how the series will continue, especially with some of the hints at what could be some messy/complicated plot lines. I’m also interested in how Juta will play out as a mangaka – this part of the book is what really makes it tick, and I hope that we continue to see his progression as a character. Overall, Otomen is a great read that is cerebral enough to approach gender roles and identity and still has time for a “standard” shojo love story, an unusual mix that makes a really entertaining comic book. Highly Recommended.

Mover’s Ranking: Keep

It’s not hard to convince me to keep my iPad, and that’s one of the strengths of this type of content, but at the same time, even if I had the paperback books, I would be packing these up for my move. This is a manga you really need to read!

Review: Cross Game, Vol. 2

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Cross Game, Volume 2 Omnibus ( Japanese Vols. 4-5)
Written and Illustrated by Mitsuru Adachi
Publisher: Viz Media’s Shonen Sunday Line
Rated T – Teen
Genre: Comedy/Sports/Shonen
$14.99 US, $16.99 CAN, 376 pgs, ISBN 1421537664

Mitsuru Adachi is the one of the best, if not the most, skilled mangaka being published in English right now. That’s a pretty bold statement to make, I admit. There are wonderful artists who I’m ignoring here, like Natsume Ono, Fumi Yoshinaga, Eiichiro Oda, and Rumiko Takahashi, just to name a few. But the second volume of Cross Game has convinced me that Adachi not only knows how to set up and write a good story, he also understands how to make excellence look natural.

One of the most outstanding portions of the second volume of Cross Game is the interaction between Ko and Aoba. When Ko is out pushing himself, giving it his all, Aoba is behind him, cheering for him in her own way. When Ko wants to know how good of a pitcher he is, Aoba tells him he’s “okay… I guess,” which is probably the highest honor she can bestow upon him, and he knows it. The rivalry and friendship between these two characters drives some of the most wonderful exchanges I have ever read in a comic book.

Adachi also really knows how to draw a baseball game, which is important, considering it takes up most of the second volume. The skillful and varied panel compositions make the game between Ko’s farm team and the varsity team both exciting and energetic, while at the same time allowing Adachi to maintain the charm and wit of his characters.

The moments after the ball game are equal in quality. We see Ko humiliate himself to get an item for Wakaba’s birthday. Ko is still dealing with her loss, and we get to see that in striking detail, but without the melodrama that many writers would have injected into these scenes. The moments are significant and moving, without being overwrought.

Cross Game continues to perform when it comes to art. The scenes of the baseball game are both well drawn and fluidly composed, but the characters are also well designed and emotive. As a side note, it seems as though Adachi likes to draw these, I guess you would call them pin ups, of Aoba to separate various chapters of the book. Unlike many writers, who could use this time to get a little fan-servicey cheese in, Adachi declines. Surely, these images are meant to be admired, but Adachi never allows his characters to become overtly sexualized, which is something I admire, because it’s a road that many writers go down to the detriment of their work.

I really don’t know how to praise Cross Game more than to tell you that it is an absolute home run and if you haven’t picked up the first volume yet, you are really missing out. I can’t recommend Cross Game enough, and I think that it will continue to be the strongest series in print for as long as the series is in print in the USA. I hope that readers latch on to this series – it is the strongest piece of fiction in Viz Media‘s Shonen Sunday collection, and, perhaps, the strongest work in their entire catalog. I implore you to try it and see what the entire manga blogsphere is talking about. You won’t be disappointed.

Review: The Story of Saiunkoku, Vols. 1-2

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The Story of Saiunkoku
Written by Sai Yukino and Illustrated by Kairi Yura
Publisher: Viz Media’s Shojo Beat line
Rated T for Teen
Historical/Shojo
US $9.99, CAN $12.99,
Vol. 1 ISBN 1421538342
Vol. 2 ISBN 1421538350

 

I have been reading quite a bit of shojo lately. I don’t think that my interests have changed all that much, to be honest. I still love Takahashi, and I am impatiently waiting for the next volume of Negima! to be released by Kodansha USA. Still, after putting off a few shonen series that I haven’t been following too closely, I realized that the bulk of my reading material was actually comics for girls. Which is fine with me, because, in the case of The Story of Saiunkoku, whatever sword-fight or display of power I could find in a shonen action/adventure, I also get in a more appreciable, subtle way with this odd-ball shojo love story.

The Story of Saiunkoku is a period drama based on light novels written by Sai Yukino, and it focuses on the headstrong and wily Shurei. Born of a noble family, her intelligence and strong will have made her a perfect candidate for public office – except she is ineligible for said office because she is female. Booooo sexism. Instead, her destitute family is offered a large sum of money when one of the emperor’s advisors asks Shurei to be the emperor’s consort. Shurei is quick to agree.

The Story of Saiunkoku opens with a the sort of clockwork style these types of shojo stories are known for, but The Story of Saiunkoku manages to do a bit better than most because it does not take itself too seriously in all the right places. Sai Yukino seems to be adept at changing the tone of the book in natural and yet unexpected ways that make the series fresh and unpredictable. The cast of characters is also quite interesting; we get a mix of old and young advisors, family members, and servants that are all written well.

One of the driving forces of The Story of Saiunkoku is the idea of ambition. It is Shurei’s ambition that leads her to be come a consort for the emperor, and it is Ryuki’s supposed lack of ambition that leads her to him. The ambitions of court advisors lead to some very dramatic and quickly-paced chapters in volume two, which in the end make for a great read. I think the ambition of The Story of Saiunkoku is the sort of tone that the entire series gives off. The art is beautifully detailed, and the language is smart and a little old fashioned without being “Fakespearean” like another historical drama I read *coughOokucough*. The Story of Saiunkoku is an ambitious shojo manga, and it ends up meeting its ambitions in the first two volumes. Frankly, it is a gem in the wave of new releases this year, and should not be missed by anyone who likes a love story or a period drama.

Review: All My Darling Daughters

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Let’s face it – every single person reading this review right now has seen a sitcom. These shows are a pervasive part of TV culture in the United States, and the reason that they do well is because they are very easy to relate to. But sitcoms come and go. There are only a few names that stick out when I think about sticoms, because the shows are a dime a dozen. Sitcom pitches happen each season, and only a few manage to make it. The reason for this is that it takes a special type of writer to understand what makes a sitcom tick. There have to be plenty of zingy one-liners, sure. But what makes a sitcom a powerful show as opposed to a string of laugh tracks is its human interactions and family dynamics.

I would like to say that the reason why All My Darling Daughters by Fumi Yoshinaga is so wonderful is due to its strength in these areas. It does have zing, it does have great interactions and family dynamics. But unlike most sitcoms, it has a depth and persuasive tone that cannot be expressed by any “awwww” soundbite.

All My Darling Daughters is a collection of five separate, yet connected stories. The center of the web is Yukiko, a headstrong business woman in her late 20s who lives with her mother, Mari. When her mother announces that she is getting married to an aspiring actor younger than Yukiko she met at a host club, Yukiko goes ballistic. She has never had to fight for her mother’s attention before, and now, this interference separates her and makes her feel alone. The two fight. Any reader could expect there to be a reconciliation, and there is, but it is certainly a Yoshinaga one; a wordless panel, daughter sobbing, slouched, her mother protecting, loving, caring, leaning on her daughter’s back.

The strength of this collection does not waver in the second story, although it is quite a bit more sordid than the first tale. I have seen other reviewers say that this was a weak part of the book, but I disagree. Although the story definitely wouldn’t make daytime television, it crafted a relationship so bizarre and twisted that the, should I say, heartwarming ending was a real surprise.

The powers of All My Darling Daughters reach their crescendo in the third act, which has two halves. The story of a girl looking into arranged marriage is not a usual sort of fiction we generally get from manga, but Yoshinaga is adept at developing relationships, and gives us an interesting look into the world of arranged marriage in Japan. It is a testament to her skills as a writer that she is able to do so much in so little time. She gives two people a scant 11 pages, and you can feel a sense of tension and hopefulness that ultimately is betrayed by one of the most poignant and true-to-life statements I think I have ever read in a comic book.

The other stories in this collection backtrack to our Yukiko’s past, detailing the lives of two of her friends in school, and her relationship with her grandmother. Each story is thoughtful, well developed, and a joy to read, but neither reaches the level of the third act.

Viz Media has given All My Darling Daughters an excellent release. The Signature line, with its colored page inserts and larger page size, is an excellent format for the book. More importantly, stories like those found in All My Darling Daughters are not necessarily money-makers, and I am glad to see Viz take a chance with it.

As a collection, I would have been pleased with any one of the five stories presented in All My Darling Daughters. Together, they have made All My Darling Daughters one of the better short story collections I’ve seen published in the United States. The book has the best of what makes sitcom television entertaining, with a healthy dash of strong women, developing characters, and uncommon settings for good measure. And, unlike any sitcom, there are no laugh tracks here. There are no “awwws,” no measured pieces of comedy or forced gags. Just intelligent, well illustrated storytelling. All My Darling Daughters was a true pleasure to read, and reinforces my belief that Fumi Yoshinaga is one of the best living comics writers of our time.

Review: Ayako

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When I first began reading manga, I knew very little about comic books. I had been previously exposed to X-Men in a casual fashion, knew who Batman and Superman were, but had no idea of the contents of actual comics. It seemed to me that comics could only be campy, exciting, and positive. I had not read The Killing Joke, but I had seen Adam West’s Batman. I’d seen the 70′s Superman films. How could comics be any different from that?  I continued to be deluded by manga. The first two series I read were Negima! and Fairy Tail. These books were full of excitement, action, friendship, and not a whole lot else. It was only when I discovered Urasawa’s Monster that I realized that comics could tell a harrowing, sometimes brutal tale. My adventure into more serious work took me to the books of Yoshihiro Tatsumi, the widely-proclaimed father of gekiga, and I was hooked. My journey eventually lead me to Osamu Tezuka.

Ayako is one of Tezuka’s earlier social commentary pieces; proceeded by Apollo’s Song and Ode to Kirihito, it is followed by works like MW and Adolf; most of these books are also published in the United States by Vertical Inc.  These books represent Tezuka as an aging man obsessed with the exploration of good and evil, morality, social degradation, sexuality, gender roles, war, and corruption. His work in this period of his life is both flawed and remarkable, sometimes mired in the ideology of its age, and other times transcendent.

Ayako is set in post-World War II, amidst the reconstruction of Japan, and focuses on the impact of the American occupation of Japan on traditional societal norms. The main group of characters in the story, the Tenge clan, is a wealthy land-owning family that is forced to give away its large shares of land to tenant farmers as part of government-enforced land redistribution. This serves as the root from which conflict throughout the book stems – personal corruption leads to shady under-handed deals within the family enforced by an American controlled Japanese government. Couple this with a son forced into treachery and espionage to save his own life as a POW captured by the US forces, and you get the catalyst for an explosive condemnation of both the degradation of traditional Japanese family structures and the post-war corruption of Japanese and US officials.

Ayako, the title character, is a daughter born to the head of the Tenge family and his son’s wife, and her place within the family is contested. As a child, she is forced to live in a guarded cellar to protect the honor of the Tenge family. By forcing Ayako as a child to endure inhuman conditions, she becomes a maladjusted adult, despite the efforts of people to rehabilitate her later in the series.

It was hard for me to connect with Ayako when I first read this series. I wondered why Tezuka would name his entire book after Ayako, a character who is not focused upon that greatly throughout the series. As I read through the book a second time for this review, Tezuka’s purpose hit me.  Ayako is the product of incestuous activity and prostitution, and her very existence is almost condemned by Tezuka. As the story progresses, she stands as not a character, but rather a representation of the innocence of the world, and how over time even it can be perverted by the corruption that surrounds it. It could even be argued that Ayako stands for the degeneration of the innocent population of Japan, or humanity in post-war times. She is a stark reminder that humans will continue to live regardless of the base conditions they are forced to survive in, and furthermore, a damnation of those who cause this type of suffering in the world. She is the essence of Tezuka’s message.

Ayako also explores the power structures developed in a rape/rapist situation through Jiro Tenge and Ayako with her brother. Tezuka uses metaphorical imagery to represent situations where rape is implied and its effect on those involved. We see how the raped continue to be dominated by their transgressors after the actual event has ended, and how Tezuka implies that even “good people” can be driven to crime after being exposed to violent trauma. While these scenes are some of the most contentious in Ayako, they continue to express the main theme of the work.

To compliment Ayako’s storyline, Tezuka has shown how brilliantly comics can be illustrated. Panel after panel flows effortlessly, composed in such a way that it draws you in, despite the cartoonish characters that  Tezuka is so well known for. His scenery and backgrounds show a vibrant land slowly weighed down by filth and corruption. Unlike other Tezuka work, the art of Ayako is neither cloying nor distracting. It provides just the right amount of weight without being completely overbearing.

The book itself is well bound despite its large size, has excellent paper and ink quality, and features some of the most striking cover art  for any manga published in the USA to date. The book is beautiful on any shelf or table, and holds up well to multiple reads.

While I have been dismissive of Tezuka’s work in the past, I am fully convinced by Ayako. Ayako is an example of Tezuka hitting every note with just the right amount of self-damning clarity and brilliant exposition. While not for younger audiences, this book is one of Vertical’s finer achievements and a must-have for any Tezuka or intelligent comics fan.

Review: Cross Game, Vol. 1

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Some of my critics are quick to point out that I don’t give very many high scores on my reviews. I generally don’t have nice things to say about the books I read, and I don’t really give out high marks on my reviews at Manga Village. I don’t know if this is because I have a high standard for the materials I read, or if I just want to be as honest as possible about the content so that people can get an opinion before they go out and buy the manga. I think it is probably a mix of these two personal factors and one key point I constantly fail to remember: the manga I read and review oftentimes are not written with me in mind.

When I received the Cross Game omnibus a few weeks ago, I worked through it with a bit of trepidation. I love baseball, so I was worried that the manga would either be too preachy about the rules or have large errors in gameplay that would make my enjoyment suffer. My misgivings were buffered by the fact that the 3-volume omnibus format was a good deal, and I wasn’t out much if I found I didn’t like it. As I read though, I become confused, and suddenly, delighted. Around page 120, I discovered that I had finally found my manga holy grail. Cross Game is the first manga I have found that has been written especially for me.

Cross Game focuses on a young boy named Ko Kitamura and his interaction with the four Tsukishima girls that live down the street from him. Ko’s father sells sports paraphernalia, and the Tsukishimas operate a batting cage and cafe, so the already close families often intertwine through the sport of baseball. After a tragic event in the first volume, the manga skips forward to Ko’s last year in junior high, and Adachi adeptly tells the story of Ko’s growth as a person and as a baseball player. Along the way we meet people who know Ko through school, through the Tsukishima family, and through baseball.

At first I was confused by the subtlety of the book. Things play out in a very natural manner, and it’s hard to know whether or not you’re reading a book or just looking out the window at the kids next door. I didn’t think I was very impressed with the storytelling. After reaching the tragedy in book one, and the aftermath in pages 170-189, I realized I was crying. What powerful storytelling! This is slice-of-life story writing at its finest.

I am enamored with all of the characters of Cross Game. Adachi has developed a cast of characters that are beautiful, flawed, and compelling. The minor school-yard dramas and flashbacks throughout the first three volumes of Cross Game are not only there to give pieces of the storyline to the reader, but also manage to develop the tension between characters and the characters themselves in a even fashion. Adachi has some of the best pacing I’ve ever seen in a comic book. His scenes flow smoothly from one to another, and the result is a refreshing, heartwarming comic that can eat hours of your time as you flip from page to page.

Adachi also has some of the most remarkable art I’ve seen in a manga. His character designs focus more on round shapes and less on hard lines. They’re subtle and remind me of Rumiko Takahashi, especially her content from the late 1980s and ’90s. I love Rumiko’s art, so it was no surprise that I was also a fan of Adachi. However, Adachi takes it a step further with panels composed without characters, as a sort of cutaway still shot made popular by famous director Yasujiro Ozu. Called a “pillow shot,” they work in the same manner as “pillow words” in Japanese poetry. These scenes are punctuation for the story, and give us a moment to truly comprehend what is happening in the lives of these characters.   Adachi has drawn for us images of schoolyards, baseball fields, and trains. They are beautifully drawn pages and panels, and smooth the tension and make the setting of the manga that much more believable.

Viz did a great job with this omnibus format. If I have any complaints about the manga, it is that it gets off to a bit of a slow start. Giving the reader three volumes of manga for a good price not only helps sell the book, but it helps sell the story. Giving you a 600-page introduction to the series helps you become attached to the characters where publishing the volumes as individual books probably would harm the series’ survivability in the currently tight manga market. The book also is bound very well for its size, and it is freely readable without breaking the spine.

If you haven’t read Cross Game yet, you’re missing out on what I think is probably the best manga of 2010 published in English. It is subtle, heart-breaking, life-affirming, and just a damn good read. Go out and grab yourself a copy now.

Review: The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, vol. 1

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The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, vol. #1
Written by Eiji Otsuka and Illustrated by Housui Yamazaki
Dark Horse Comics
Rated M for Mature (18+), $10.95 US
201 pgs.

In the spirit of All Hallow’s Eve, (even though I’m a whole week late) here’s a review of a spooky manga that does a bit of thinking too.

Kurosagi has the kind of plot that got me interested in manga from the get-go; it’s strange, it’s foreign, and all together wonderful and disturbing. Five students (and one sock puppet) from a Buddhist university in Japan use their special skills to interact with the dead and grant them their last wish. The intrepid group forms a business that helps souls trapped in their dead bodies to finally be free to move onto their next reincarnation.

The main character, Kuro, has the ability to talk to the dead when he touches them; Numato has the ability to dowse and find corpses;Sasaki is the general manager of the group, and an adept hacker who finds business for the team; Makino is an embalmer; and Yata is a channeler who speaks with aliens through the puppet on his hand (Yata is a gentle, soft spoken member of the team, while his puppet is anything but.) It’s very interesting group of people, and mangaka Otsuka takes advantage of each of the character’s abilities to propel the story.

The problem with working with the dead, is, unfortunately, you’re going to end up dealing with murderers eventually. For example, volume 1 of Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service deals with a serial killer who’s obsessed with creating the perfect corpse, a father with an unnatural affinity for his daughter (even after she’s taken her life), and a insurance fraud who can kill by statistics. Alongside dealing with these freaks, the team finds out the true meaning of the Dendera fields, and what a life is truly worth.

The most intersting thing about manga isn’t just the storyline; Otsuka not only manages to tell the story of the group of soul-savers, but the subject matter allows him to truly interact with social issues, and to start some commentary on misguided and troubled ways of the mainstream.

Now, this manga is not for the squemish. If you don’t like the thought of looking at dead, naked bodies, and/or are upsetted by gore, this manga isn’t for you. It’s very graphic. That being said, this manga has an almost tongue-in-cheek kind of mentality, and for a comic that covers some very heavy material, you never get weighed down by it.

Dark Horse has done a great job with this manga. Most interesting was their choice to use a cardboard like material for the front cover instead of the normal glossy front. While some people may complain about this, I think it gives the manga its own distinct feel. Extensive translation notes and high quality paper are some of the perks of paying a bit more for your manga, and I feel I got my money’s worth from this volume. The artwork is realistic and well drawn out, but it doesn’t take itself too seriously.

This first volume was easily all it took to make it on to my Essential Reading list. I’m looking forward to getting my hands on the next volume.