Tag Archives: slice of life

Manga Widget Investigates: Tzusuki wa Mata Ashita

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It’s been a while since I’ve gone snooping around the internet for license requests, but it’s a new year, and a time to get back into the business of blogging.

The recently passed Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, and New Year seasons are a time of celebration for many people in the United States, and a large part of these celebrations is spending time with family. Having spent a lot of time with family this past holiday, I started to think about manga that focuses on the relationships between family members. Some of my favorite manga published in English focus on family dynamics (Cross Game and Bunny Drop come to mind) and while these books are probably not the most monetarily successful, these series have been critically acclaimed, and are always series that I make sure to have copies of at my home (and promote tirelessly!).

After a bit of digging, I came across what looks like a real gem – Tzusuki wa Mata Ashita (つづきはまた明日, To Be Continued Tomorrow) a manga about the Fujisawa family, which consists of a 5th grade boy, a 1st grade girl, and a salary-man father. The mother in the family has recently passed away, and so the Fujisawas gets by with the help of the father’s younger sister. The story starts off as a new family moves into the home next door, and the neighbors look remarkably similar to the Fujisawas. It seems like a very remarkable story, and having recently dealt with the pain of losing a family member, the idea hits close to home.

Tzusuki wa Mata Ashita is written by Kita Konno and published by Gentosha. The series is currently at 3 volumes and counting, and is currently published on Gentosha‘s Web Spica, which honestly, I’m going to have to learn some Japanese to understand exactly what’s going on here, but it looks like an digital platform similar to www.sigikki.com. I’ve been pulled to this site before on the account of beautiful watercolors and other artwork, but I still haven’t explored enough to know exactly what is going on. More reasons to become bilingual, I suppose.

Kita Konno is not a widely known writer in the USA, but has written a mix of josei, shojo, yaoi, and yuri manga in a mix of anthologies. This mixed pedigree makes a me even more interested in her work, as some of my favorite authors (Natsume Ono, Fumi Yoshinaga) have the same type of mixed pedigree.

As far as publishers go, I am not sure if any of the publishers have a direct relationship with Gentosha, so perhaps someone like Yen Press might go for this title, or perhaps this might be a great candidate for Digital Manga’s Kickstarter crowdsourced publishing. (I believe that TOKYOPOP had a licensing relationship with Gentosha, but unfortunately, TOKYOPOP is no longer publishing manga. Probably.) It appears that the parent publishing company has done some work with digital comics, so that might be a good home for Tzusuki wa Mata Ashita, so either JManga or NetComics take note.

While manga about families suffering hardship and coming out of it together may not sell a lot of comics to the Naruto crowd, it has the appeal of a more independent, adult comics-reading audience, and as the manga-reading population ages, this sort of content may be a good step in that direction. I would love to see manga like this in the United States, and I challenge publishers to redefine the meaning of manga with titles like Tzusuki wa Mata Ashita.

Rescue Me! The Stellar Six of Gingacho

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I know what you all are thinking – Alex hasn’t been updating his blog lately, so he probably forgot about some of his ongoing series of articles. Well, dear reader, I am happy to prove you wrong this week with an update to my Rescue Me! series, where, for the new reader, I talk about some of my favorite and incomplete manga series published by now defunct publishers. I try to explain the reasons I liked the series and the reasons why I think the series should be rescued (and sometimes even suggest what publisher might benefit from licensing the series). This week, I am taking a look at a really low-key shojo slice-of-life series, The Stellar Six of Gingacho (Kirameki Gingachou Shoutengai, キラメキ☆銀河町商店街).

For anyone interested in looking at older entries in the series, here are the links!

1. Stolen Hearts
2. The Secret Notes of Lady Kanoko
3. The Stellar Six of Gingacho
4. Skyblue Shore
5. Happy Café
6. Argentis Apothecarium
7. The Lapis Lazuli Crown
8. Suppli

The Stellar Six of Gingacho is a shojo manga series from author Yuuki Fujimoto, and it ran for a total of 10 volumes published in Hakusensha‘s Hana to Yume. It was part of Tokyopop‘s last wave of releases and licenses before Stu closed up shop and took the business out behind the woodshed. They managed to print two of the ten volumes en masse, and the third volume is somewhat of a manga rarity – copies do exist, but finding them is somewhat of a difficult proposition.

The series follows the lives of six friends whose parents all work at the Gingacho Street Market; each of the characters is a unique piece of a giant friendship puzzle. All together, they conquer their fears and the problems of the Street Market in their own way. As the group moves into middle school, they start to drift apart, but Mike (pronounced “Mee-kay”) is bound and determined to keep the group together. Mike is the lead of the series, and she is a food obsessed, emotional girl who is a lot of fun to read. Each of the other five street market kids is also really fun to read, and each has their own little quirks.

Other shojo “group of friends” manga certainly exists, but I have yet to come across a series that does it as well as The Stellar Six of Gingacho. It is a fun romp that still manages to capture a healthy dose of mono no aware and not be too dramatic about it. The Stellar Six of Gingacho is a great “growing up” story, and it’s a definite comfort manga – nothing too deep, but it certainly evokes a feeling of peace and contentment.

I would certainly love to continue reading this series, and I am certain a publisher like Yen Press would benefit from having this series in its stable. If no one bites to do a physical print run, I could certainly see JManga bring this to their digital storefront. It is a fun series that needs to find a new home.

Review: La Quinta Camera

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La Quinta Camera: The Fifth Room
Written and Illustrated by Natsume Ono
Paperback: 208 pages
Publisher: VIZ Media LLC; Sig IKKI
Language: English
Rated: T for Teen
ISBN-13: 978-1421532196

Natsume Ono is one of my favorite creators in comics today. Her distinct style and charismatic writing have filled many of my evenings with beautiful imagery of Italy and feudal Japan, and her characters have sparked my imagination and wanderlust. When Ono’s first works were brought to the USA, we started somewhere in the middle – Ristorante Paradiso and not simple were a progression of sorts from La Quinta Camera, which is some of Ono’s earliest work. The series started as a webcomic, and was brought to print in one volume through Viz Media’s IKKI COMIX imprint. Of all the creators popularized by the IKKI format from Viz, Natsume Ono is the most complex, and most wonderful. La Quinta Camera is certainly an expression of that – but Ono has learned much between her initial comics debut in 2003 and her currently running series House of Five Leaves.

La Quinta Camera is a series of vignettes focusing on four men who live in a five-bed apartment in Rome, and how they use that fifth room; or rather, who they rent it to. The book opens with a female Danish foreign exchange student named Charlotte and the strange circumstances by which she meets all the men who live in her apartment. Ono drops the girl in the middle of town, and she finds that each of the interactions she has ends up being with one of the four men who live at the apartment: Al gives her a ride, Cele insults her in a crowd, Luca plays music and sings with her, and Massimo cooks her dinner at his café. It is a fairly natural progression, and Ono lets the scene do a lot of talking.

Throughout the rest of the book, the short stories fall around with the men (and ladies) of the fifth room. Screenwriters and American students stay in the fifth room, and the four men learn, live, and grow. These characters are unique and easily identifiable, and Ono does a good job differentiating between the four in looks and attitudes. The cast is likable and interesting, which in turn creates an excellent reading experience, because character studies that Natsume Ono is so fond of often live or die by how well their characters interact and attract the reader.

Another attractive feature of La Quinta Camera is its unique art style, which, if I gather from other conversation on the internet, has not been very well received. I suppose that some readers are put off by the illustration style of La Quinta Camera because of how different it is than the style Ono uses for Ristorante Paradiso and House of Five Leaves. The art in La Quinta Camera is sketchy, some might even say “cartoony,” as if it were an insult, because they don’t like the style comparative to her other work in English. Certainly La Quinta Camera does not use complex illustration like Natsume Ono’s other work – but it honestly doesn’t need it. The book breathes and lives through these sketches, and it’s obvious that the style is not a lack in cartooning skill, but rather a conscious choice.

Natsume Ono is not for every manga reader – people who don’t like slice of life will find La Quinta Camera insufferably boring, because honestly, not much happens. If you need someone to shout out the name of a hidden move or punch a guy in the face every chapter, this is probably not a series you are going to like. You won’t find action or true suspense with La Quinta Camera. What you will find is an excellent character study and a lovely set of stories based on some of Ono’s experiences in Italy. That’s the joy of the series, in my mind, and certainly those who love films like Lost in Translation or The Kids are Alright will love Ono’s quirky and gentle peek at the lives of four Italian men and their varied houseguests.

Review: Disappearance Diary

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Written and Illustrated by Hideo Azumi
Publisher: Fanfare/Ponent Mon
Unrated+
Genre: Slice-of-life/Seinen/Comedy
US $22.99, UK 11.99, 200 pgs., ISBN 9788496427426

When I originally started looking into works published by Fanfare earlier last year, I was surprised by both the small size of their catalog, and the immense depth of range that it represented. Disappearance Diary, winner of the 9th Japan Media Arts Festival Grand Prize in 2005, is a piece of work that not only exemplifies the Fanfare catalogue, but also shows how unique it truly is.

Disappearance Diary is an autobiography written by Hideo Azumi, a manga writer who, like most authors, has to live paycheck to paycheck. In two separate fits, he runs away from his home and becomes a vagabond, living off of trash and cigarette butts thrown on the sidewalk. He hides in public parks, sleeps in fields, steals vegetables from farms, and occasionally he is returned to civilization by those not privy to his mental breakdowns. In the final third of the book, Azumi relates his descent into alcoholism and forced rehabilitation.

One of the key features of Disappearance Diary is that, unlike so many other harrowing autobiographies, Azumi is willing to look at his life and laugh. If Azumi ever looked into the Abyss, the Abyss looking back would only see a giggling man, full of self-contempt and wry amusement. This tone gives Azumi’s autobiography a cheerful demeanor, despite its difficult content. It allows Azumi to write humor into humorless passages, and allows him to breathe life into a stagnating, perhaps decaying sense of self.

The art, like the tone of the book, is appropriately cheery. The characters are squat and cartoonish, removing the realism from the story, much like Charlz Schultz’s characters in Peanuts. Azumi lives in a world populated by creeps and judgmental passerby, but all of these people are encapsulated in caricatures that give Azumi the distance he needs to tell the story of his life. This distance is a key part of the narrative tone; without it, the book almost surely could have not been written, nor could it have been so harrowing.

While reading this book, it is difficult to realize how hard Azumi’s life was during the time that is illustrated for us, which is the real reason why Disappearance Diary is such an interesting piece of fiction. On one hand, I am cheering for him as he finds food and cigarettes out on the street, but at the same time, I am being deluded. The cheery statements that Azumi’s character make obfuscate the true meaning of the passages, and the cartoony artwork further distances the hellish world of homelessness and alcoholism for the eyes of the reader. Only by truly examining the message delivered by the story do we sense the despair lurking in Azumi, knowing that the possibility of future flight and a relapse into addictive behavior could be right around the corner.

“This manga has a positive outlook on life, and so it has been made with as much realism removed as possible.” With this opening, Hideo Azumi foreshadows the telling of a tale that weaves in and out of the most horrible years of his adult life. As a struggling manga artist, Azumi relates to us in Disappearance Diary the story of his adult life, and does so with a distance and emotional levity that at times borders on the inappropriate. I feel that this is of utmost importance. With his inappropriate look at a life troubled by alcoholism and homelessness, Hideo Azumi lays bare his troubles and allows us to dissect them, showing us a dark world tinged by rose-colored glasses.

Manga Widget Investigates: Oishii Kankei

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One of the series I’ve really been enjoying lately is DMP’s Itazura na Kiss, which is one of the manga I associate with the beginning of shojo as we know it in the USA. The series, although only recently licensed for release, has flavored and influenced multiple series released in the US, and forms part of a background of almost “required reading” if you are interested in the progression of shojo as a genre. It also happens to be a wonderful series, so it isn’t a drag or a purely academic read either.

One of the things that sets Itazura na Kiss apart from most shojo that is being published currently is its art style, which some might say is dated or old-fashioned. The art is fully set in the 1990′s, with all of its clothing and hair trends, but it also has a sort of angular quality that looks very different from something like, say Fruits Basket. While some readers dislike this style, I find it quite attractive. 1990′s manga like Itazura na Kiss, and Boys Over Flowers are some of my favorite series; it comes as no surprise then that I’m interested in another 90′s manga – Oishii Kankei (A Delicious Relationship) written by Satoru Makimura and originally published in Shueisha‘s Young You anthology. The series is 16 volumes long, and began its run in 1993.

Oishii Kankei is a story about a college age woman who loves gourmet food named Fujiwara Momoe. Her father, a wealthy businessman, loves to indulge his tastes for classy cooking, and she has spent her entire life eating the most delectable meals prepared by the best chefs in Japan. On the day of the celebration of Fujiwara’s graduation, her father dies of a heart attack, presumably due to his overeating. In one moment, Fujiwara’s life is forever changed. Now she and her mother are alone, and must now make a living. Fujiwara manages to walk into a small French restaurant and impress the manager and head chef, Oda-san, to hire her.

This is, just like Itazura na Kiss, a shojo tale of grumpy, handsome love interest vs. spunky, relentless lead, but it is complicated and embellished with food and cooking. I’m not shy about asking for cooking manga, and the list of cooking manga we have licensed in English is woefully short. To take cooking and add the irresistible strengths of Itazura na Kiss just seems like a winning combination to me.

The rest of the world seems to agree. Oishii Kankei has been made into an 11-part drama show as well as a 20-part Taiwanese drama titled Sweet Relationship which ran from Fall 2007 to Winter 2008.

Of particular note, Satoru Makimura is an author we haven’t seen anything from in the US, but she produces some seemingly spectacular dance, clothing, and sport-related josei and shojo manga. She made her debut in 1973 with “Shiroi Tsuioku,” and her latest series, Real Clothes, serialized in YOU, has made it to the BookScan comic lists for Japan on multiple occasions.

Do I think that Oishii Kankei is a good license? Probably not. The series’ “outdated” artwork is probably a limiting factor for its publication because of the tastes of the current US manga reading population, but that doesn’t make it any less wonderful. Certainly though, it is a possible license – books like Boys over Flowers and Oishinbo have been published, so it isn’t out of the realm of possibility. Regardless of discussions of financial viability though, I can’t think of a series that meets more of my “squee” criteria besides perhaps The Drops of God (coming soon from Vertical Inc.!!!) so I guess a guy can dream.

Manga Widget Investigates: Barakamon

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My birthday is on a Monday this year (March 28th if anyone wants to get me something!) which means new comics are released the day after my birthday. That means that I get a late birthday present from Yen Press – the third volume of Bunny Drop by Yumi Unita will be available to purchase on the 29th. I have been looking forward to this book for a while now, so I’m glad to get my hands on the next volume. What does this have to do with Manga Widget Investigates? Why, the subject matter, of course!

Bunny Drop is a manga about an adult man and his interactions with a young child. Yen Press has multiple series (Bunny Drop, Yotsuba&!) that fit into this odd category. Since Yen Press has a corner on both the “adult men and their fatherly interactions with female children,” as well as the corner on all of Square Enix‘s titles, I thought I might look around for another series that might fit into their catalog – and have I found it. This week we’re going to look at a manga series called Barakamon.

Barakamon is a slice of life manga written and illustrated by Satsuki Yoshino about a haughty young calligrapher who goes into self-exile after attacking another calligrapher who criticizes his work. After arriving at a small rural island, our protagonist meets all the island folk and settles into a life of “country living.” He meets a little girl who is spectacularly interested in this new stranger (and of course, using his house as a fort to play in), and apparently drives a lot of the humor of the series. His acclamation to this environment and his befriending of the local children and families is the source for what I am sure are antics galore.

Barakamon is currently published in Gangan Online, and online effort that Square Enix is doing, and was originally published Gangan Powered. Interestingly enough, the Gangan anthologies are a source for much of Yen Press’ material. Barakamon, in Gangan Powered, was published alongside content like Hero Tales, Higurashi: When They Cry, Book Girl and the Suicidal Mime, and video game-inspired titles.

Currently the series is available online, and you can read it (in Japanese) at this link.  The more information can be found (and presumably run through Google Translate, if you are so inclined) at this link.

As we get into license announcement season, I’m keeping Barakamon on my list. It looks like a fun and cute slice-of-life comedy that is similar to Bunny Drop, and Yotsuba&!, which, if you think about it, is probably the best praise I can give a series.

Review: Saturn Apartments, Vols. 1-2

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I’m writing this review crammed into the back of a Jeep Liberty. We’re on the road, traveling to see my little sister for her 20th birthday. The car is packed to the gills with presents and people. Things are pleasant, but if someone decides to pass a little gas, we will be having some serious problems. Likewise, we’re very physically close, and on this dark, country road, things are a bit claustrophobic.

I imagine that this feeling is similar, if a bit off in scale, to the feeling felt by the people in Hisae Iwaoka’s Saturn Apartments. After the entire Earth is deemed a nature preserve, mankind relocates to a manmade ring that humans put into orbit. It contains living space for all the world’s remaining humans, as well as fields and fisheries and everything needed to maintain human life. Broken into three parts, the top of the ring contains the rich aristocracy, the middle level contains public works and fields, and the bottom contains power plants, sewer systems, fuel cells, and apartments for the poor and middle class. The one thing that is missing in all of this is natural sunlight.

That’s where Mitsu comes in. He and his company, a guild of window washers, depressurize, don spacesuits that protect them from UV radiation, and go out onto the surface of the ring and wash windows for the elite upper-level dwellers. They risk life and limb to provide a vanity for the obscenely rich, and in return, make a living wage.

In a sense, Saturn Apartments is very much like a series published by TokyoPop during the manga boom, Planetes, in that it shows what everyday people doing their not-so everyday jobs because of a specific scientific advancement. What makes Saturn Apartments interesting is that you get to see how humans become conditioned in these strange situations. People become stratified based on what level they come from. Humanity is segregated, and clothing styles are remarkably different based on the level they are in. People from the bottom levels are discriminated against, and have a hard time getting jobs in the middle and upper levels. It’s a very interesting social examination based around a unique social stressor.

Mitsu, unlike most protagonists for manga series, is no heroic boy looking to change the world. He is very content to fall into the status quo, to start a job in the profession that killed his father, and to become a part of a society that at best commiserates with his difficult position, and at worst thinks of him as a piece of trash. That’s what makes him such an interesting character to read. He has his battles that he has to fight. He tries to make a difference in people’s lives, but he does it in his own way, washing people’s windows, and sometimes, looking in on their lives from above.

Saturn Apartments has one of the more unique art styles of the series in Viz Media‘s Sig IKKI line. People have round, expressive faces, their bodies are like tubes, and unlike other manga in the line, this series looks more like a comic you would expect Fantagraphics or another indie comics publisher to release. I like the change in style, and it fits the subject matter. Saturn Apartments is a very relaxed, simple story, and the relaxed, simple art complements it nicely.

It is hard to get too worked up about Saturn Apartments, mostly because it doesn’t get too worked up itself. Saturn Apartments doesn’t try to wow you or philosophize. It just wants to show you the life a boy who washes windows, and maybe a bit extra about life and the tenacity of humanity, if that happens to come out in the wash. It is because of this simple goal that the series excels so well – as a piece of slice-of-life fiction, Saturn Apartments is able to look at life in a way that few other manga can, in the way that it wants to.

Saturn Apartments is a fine piece of fiction, leisurely and pleasant, and while it isn’t something I’m excited to run out and buy as it is released in paperback, it is fine experience over a warm drink by a crackling fire. If you are looking to step back from the wild world of regular manga and relax a bit, Saturn Apartments will gladly be your cup of chamomile tea.

Review: Bakuman, Vols. 1-2

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I think that many readers and reviewers have pet genres they like better than others. Some anime and manga reviewers may prefer a moe manga like K-On! compared to a dramatic, violent seinen piece like Gantz. Hopefully, my dear readers, you will have noticed that I prefer slow-moving work that takes its time to fully explore its fictional world and the characters we experience that world through. I am not necessarily averse to other types of manga, and I love a good action flick, but my favorite movie is, and shall forever be Lost in Translation with Bill Murray and Scarlet Johansson.

Volunteering to review Bakuman was not that difficult, then. I knew what I was getting myself into, especially since Shonen Jump in Japan was debuting the manga to English speaking countries as it was released in the anthology as part of its 75th anniversary celebration. I had gotten a taste of the “manga about making manga” series from the creators of Death Note, and I was interested to see more. However, I had some reservations when I first read the translation on the Shonen Jump website. Surely the translation was bad – did that character just say “Men have dreams that women will never understand?”

Turns out, that’s exactly what she said.

One of the most interesting things about Bakuman is that it’s written by two manga creators who have done gangbuster work together before with a series that seemed to defy the shonen stereotypes at every turn. Death Note was dark, gritty, oftentimes violent and disturbing, and a really intelligent thriller. It wasn’t exactly something you would expect to come from the pages of Shonen Jump. Bakuman follows the exact same trend, but in a completely different direction. Yet again, the series is distinctly different than the manga you would expect to read in Shonen Jump. Still it is obvious that Bakuman is written for 14-year old boys.

Let me explain.

Bakuman is a story that looks at the world of creating manga from the perspective of a 14-year old boy. The series hits that mark fairly clearly. The main characters are both 14 years old, both go to the same junior high, and both (with a little prodding of the main character) have “BIG SHONEN DREAMS.” What these characters say, and what is said  to them is indicative of what a 14-year old thinks about the world. In this way, we see some pretty sexist themes pop up in this series. Case in point; the main female lead, Asuki, essentially only exists to fulfill the romantic dreams of the main character, Moritaka. She is effectively a pretty face and an empty character. Another example; Moritaka’s father allows him to become a manga-ka (manga artist), and when his mother protests, she is given the following line, “Men have dreams that women will never understand.” Moritaka’s partner in manga, Akito, picks a girlfriend that supports his dream, and dismisses a girl who tries to persuade him that he should give up manga and be normal. Asuki agrees to wait forever for Moritaka, emphasizing that she has no will, and the outcomes of his endeavors are what are most important in their budding relationship.

Does that insult me as a 23-year old man? Yes. Quite a-fucking-bit in fact. Would that insult a 14-year old boy? Hell no. This is how he perceives the world. Parental units are always being accused of “not understanding me.” Girls are their to cheer their boyfriends on at sporting events. This is more of that same crap. Whether or not this written with tongue firmly in cheek is another matter. If so, it makes some of the ludicrous statements more palatable, but still, this is the kind of stuff that would make people toss a book into the garbage (I’ve placed manga in file 13 for lesser offenses).

Now, for the part I don’t really want to say: I actually liked this series quite a bit.

I don’t consider myself a sexist, and I really don’t like the way women are portrayed in this manga. I abhor the parts of the series where these sorts of sexist statements are made. The female characters in Death Note were likewise weak and mainly existed to fulfill the needs of male characters. These admonitions being said, Bakuman is an intriguing slice-of-life story. It hits all the points I want it to, explaining things like how manga series are rated in anthologies, how a manga creator pitches their ideas to a publishing company, how the editing process works, how manga get published, etc. There is a bevy of information, but it’s handled in such a way that it flows along with the story. Tsugumi Ohba also has a knack for writing storylines that don’t feel contrived, and the conflicts that the two male leads get themselves into seem natural and a mere progression as their involvement in the manga creation process grows.  The main characters also develop pretty well, despite the female characters being pretty weakly created.

Along with being a good slice-of-life comic, Bakuman is also simultaneously the best illustrated shonen manga currently in print in English. Takeshi Obata has developed as an artist since his manga first started getting published. His progression through Hikaru no Go has made it clear that he has developed his skills immensely, and he is in top form for Bakuman.

At the end of the day, I’m conflicted. I want to recommend Bakuman for its no-holds barred look at the process of manga creation, and for showing a slice-of-life that hasn’t really been illuminated for non-Japanese speaking readers until now. At the same time, I can’t really recommend the series because of its backwards views of women and the weak, sexist writing.

Maybe, in time, we will come to understand whether or not the reservations I have with Bakuman will make the comic unreadable, or will be small stumble in a largely entertaining series. For now, I am willing to withhold total condemnation; whether or not Bakuman makes the grade will have to be determined by future volumes.

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: I, Otaku, Struggle In Akihabara, vol. 1

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5

I, Otaku, Struggle in Akihabara: vol. 1
Written and Illustrated by Jiro Suzuki
Seven Seas Entertainment LLC.
Rated T for Teen, $9.99 USA
177 pgs.

I, Otaku is a manga about the life and times of a underground anime and manga fan, named Sota. Following in the footsteps of the renowned Genshiken, I, Otaku tries to live up to the high bar that predicessor otaku comedies have set for it.

The art of the bookitself is highly stylized, and the art style is similar to the style of Sumomomo, Momomo, the recently serialized manga from Yen Press by Shinobu Ohtaka. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m a big fan of the style. It’s part of the reason why I can’t stand Sumomomo, Momomo, but that’s a rant for another day. Mostly, the art can be quite detailed at times, and the panels are never crowded, but the sketchiness, and roughness of the drawings in certain panels make its art fairly mediocre.

Seven Seas has done a good job with this novel. The editing is supurb, and there are no guttering issues that prevented me from reading the book. In addition, Seven Seas has made the first page of the manga a glossy, full color page, which is nice. The book is printed on standard manga-grade paper, and the book is well put together.

As far as content goes, I, Otaku is a series that has a lot going for it, as far as otakudom comedies go. Avid-fan main character? Check. Clueless girlfriend? Check? Ultra-obsessed store clerk? Check. Otaku wildness? Check.

While this manga has all the ingredients it takes to make up a good otaku-based comedy, it lacks one main ingredient; charm.  From the opening panels to the final story, I, Otaku has plenty of laughs, but leaves no mark on the reader. Unlike Genshiken, the characters leave no lasting impressions (at least, no lasting fond impressions), and even after reading the book, I’m left wondering what the point is. I, Otaku has its moments, but those moments are merely moments, and are few and far between.

I’m impressed with the work that Seven Seas has done with this manga, but in the end, I’m not impressed enough with the story to continue reading. Rent it if you’re really interested, or borrow it from a friend. It’s probably not worth the purchase.

PS: I do recommend Genshiken, if you are interested in otaku comedy. It is far less likely to disappoint.