Watch This Space: July MMF!

As we wrap up ten days of animated discussion of our June MMF (Manga Moveable Feast) selection, The Color Trilogy, the time has come to announce the series that will be our focus for July. And the winner is… Paradise Kiss by Ai Yazawa! This josei series, published by TOKYOPOP, is complete in five volumes and tells the story of a schoolgirl whose world changes drastically when she meets a group of art school kids who beg her to model the clothes they design.

I’ll be hosting the festivities this time around, and will be kicking things off with an introductory post on Sunday, July 25. The feast will run through the following Sunday, August 1, and anyone is welcome to participate. If you decide to join us, just e-mail me a link to your submission, or, if you have no blog of your own, you can e-mail me the whole durn thing and I’ll post it here as a guest review. You may also wish to join the Google Group for updates, conversation, and an opportunity to vote on nominees for future feasts!

The Color of Heaven by Kim Dong Hwa: C+

From the front flap:
Ehwa, now a confident young woman, finds herself in the same maddening situation as her mother: waiting for a man. Her mother hopes for the return of her roaming lover, and Ehwa, in turn, gazes up at the same moon as her fiancé Duksam, a farmer who has gone to sea to seek his fortune so that he can marry her.

Review:
I do honestly want to like The Color Trilogy. I like the idea of a mother and her daughter living together in a rural village in turn-of-the-century Korea. I like learning about food and traditions that are new to me. I like the detailed drawings of the landscape and, especially, the family kitchen. The problem is there’s just so much about the series that annoys me that I simply can’t like it.

The central plot of this volume is that Ehwa’s love, Duksam, has left town to attempt to make a living as a fisherman, and so she is left to wait around until he returns to marry her. Her mother is also waiting for her traveling salesman lover to stop by, so they proceed to have many, many conversations about men and how it’s the lot of women to wait for them. I’m not sure they ever talk about anything but men, actually.

I know that the limited scope of life for a woman in this time and place is historically accurate, and that for a mother to say, “There is nothing better in life than getting married” reflects a period where marriage provided the ultimate in protection for a woman. But still, I can’t help but get fired up by speeches like this:

After waiting and waiting, you begin to lose track of whether it’s the moon or the sun in the sky, and that’s when he comes in with a smile on his face. As soon as you see that face, all is forgotten and you begin chasing after his footsteps once again. That is the heart of a woman.

To be honest, I think a large part of my ire is due to the fact that The Color Trilogy is written by a man. If a woman wrote these things, I’d still be annoyed, but coming from a male author I can’t help but read such statements as downright condescending. Try as I might to view these attitudes through a historical lens, I’m simply unable to get over my knee-jerk reaction.

It isn’t only Ehwa and her mother who are obsessed with discussing men and women. Everyone in town gets into the metaphor that women are flowers waiting for butterflies (men) to alight upon them, and almost all of them talk in language that’s incredibly, ridiculously poetic. In an early example, Duksam says, “I’m going to head for the sea. The sea that’s as wet and salty as your tears, and as bold and clear as your eyes.” Now, I admit that I have little appreciation for poetry, but this sounds to me like something one would come up with as a parody of purple prose.

Every now and then someone speaks plainly, like when Duksam frankly discusses his fear of leaving Ehwa behind, which had me wishing for more of the same. All of the imagery and metaphor might appeal to some readers, but to me, I would’ve enjoyed The Color Trilogy a lot more had it been more straightforward.

I reviewed The Color of Heaven for this month’s Manga Manhwa Moveable Feast. More reviews and discussion of this trilogy can be found here.

To Terra… 1 by Keiko Takemiya: A

From the back cover:
The future. Having driven Terra to the brink of environmental collapse, humanity decides to reform itself by ushering in the age of Superior Domination (S.D.), a system of social control in which children are no longer the offspring of parents but the progeny of a universal computer. The new social order, however, results in an unexpected byproduct: the Mu, a mutant race with extrasensory powers who are forced into exile by The System.

The saga begins on educational planet Ataraxia, where Jomy Marcus Shin, a brash and unpredictable teenager, is nervously preparing to enter adult society. When his Maturity Check goes wrong, the Mu intervene in the great hope that Jomy, who possesses Mu telepathy and human physical strength, can lead them back home, to Terra…

Review:
There’s no shortage of sci-fi stories in which the natural resources of Earth have been used up, prompting humans into space in search of new homes. In To Terra…, this situation works out a little differently. Instead, the humans are deemed to be the problem, and the original population of Earth (Terra) is forcibly removed while a eugenics program begins to breed a new race of people willing to submit to the will of Universal Control, part of the Supreme Domination system devised to regulate all aspects of life.

Fourteen-year-old Jomy Marcus Shin is a product of this system and has spent his life thus far on Ataraxia, a planet where children are raised by carefully selected foster parents until such time as they are ready for their Maturity Check. Jomy chafes against this orderly society, however, and is repeatedly subjected to tests designed to weed out ESP abilities—a sign that he is actually a Mu, a race of evolved humans noted for their telepathy and “emotional instability.” None of these tests detect Jomy’s latent powers until the Mu leader hijacks his Maturity Check and recruits Jomy to be the new leader of the Mu and help them achieve their goal of returning to Terra.

Meanwhile, those children who pass their Maturity Check have their fate decided for them by the computer. Some go on to their assigned jobs while others are destined for further schooling. Among these is Keith Anyan, an elite student destined for a position as one of Terra’s most powerful citizens. Currently, Keith is the star pupil at an educational satellite, though he’s not without his doubts about the system. His world is shaken up by a rival student, Seki Ray Shiroe, who refuses to relinquish his own free will, no matter the consequences.

There’s a lot going on in To Terra…, but though it’s definitely a complicated story, it never stops being a compelling one. No matter the differences between characters or their circumstances, all are united by yearning of one kind or another. Jomy yearns for a family life that was real, and it’s his recognition of the depth of the Mu’s longing for a home that helps him to finally understand them and agree to be their leader. Keith, though repeatedly assured of his own place on Terra, secretly yearns for a more inclusive system that would enable his less talented friend, “gentle Sam,” to achieve the same. As it is, Sam will probably spend his entire life in space, not being deemed good enough for a place on the surface.

Nobody is happy with things the way they are, but change requires action. Jomy is bold in his approach, starting the Mu off towards Terra immediately after taking charge, but Keith is constrained by expectations and some surprising revelations about his background. Too, anyone around him who might be of aid either conveniently forgets their dissent after a visit with the mother computer or ends up like Shiroe. In a way, this reminds me of Tezuka’s Adolf, as we are introduced to sympathetic characters on both sides of a conflict and seemingly poised to follow them over many years. In that scenario, Keith would be the Adolf Kaufmann, the sympathetic young man being educated by a fascist government who will either learn to embrace their beliefs or risk losing his place of prestige.

Visually, To Terra… is just as epic as a story like this warrants, with many gorgeous two-page spreads and pages upon pages of star-flecked darkness, emphasizing the vastness of space and the isolation between worlds, cultures, and individuals that’s causing so much pain to the characters. It does bother me that the sound effects haven’t been translated, though, since sometimes they could add a lot to a scene.

Even though To Terra… is technically shounen, the emphasis on the emotional lives of the characters and their simple desire for a home results in a story with universal appeal. No pun intended.

I reviewed To Terra… for May’s Manga Moveable Feast, hosted by Kate Dacey. Other reviews and commentary can be found at Kate’s blog, The Manga Critic. The series is published in English by Vertical and is complete in three volumes.

Mushishi 1 by Yuki Urushibara: A-

From the back cover:
Some live in the deep darkness behind your eyelids. Some eat silence. Some thoughtlessly kill. Some simply drive men mad. Shortly after life emerged from the primordial ooze, these deadly creatures, mushi, came into terrifying being. And they still exist and wreak havoc in the world today. Ginko, a young man with a sardonic smile, has the knowledge and skill to save those plagued by mushi… perhaps.

Review:
Mushishi is the timeless (quite literally, as the protagonist’s clothes are the only element suggesting modernity) story of a young man named Ginko as he travels to various isolated spots, investigating cases where mushi—an ancient form of life—are interfering with humans. This first volume presents five such tales, and the fact that they are titled instead of numbered creates the impression of self-contained short stories rather than sequential chapters in a narrative. In the fifth story, however, Ginko does think back on an earlier case, so a sense of continuity is not completely absent.

There are some common threads amongst the tales. In several, mushi have become parasytes, affecting the hearing, sight, or dreams of their unfortunate host. In these cases, Ginko is usually able to encourage the mushi to abandon their nests—this is definitely not a series where the hero vanquishes his foes with displays of fighting technique and bravado—and remarks that they are not to blame for what has happened; they’re simply trying to live their lives. Ginko is also shown to occasionally do what he thinks best for a person, despite what their wishes might be. At one point he withholds information from someone, with devastating consequences, but in another instance, his decision to intervene results in a positive outcome. It’s clear that there are no real rules here; Ginko—who is shown not to be infallible—is largely on his own in terms of how to treat each situation, and sometimes doubts whether he has done the right thing.

While the stories themselves are unique and intriguing—my favorite is the fifth, which succeeds in making a swamp of mushi into a benevolent character—Ginko himself is quite the mystery, too. We meet him already on the job, with no knowledge of his past or how he came into this line of work. It’s not until the fourth chapter (written first, Urushibara reveals in the Afterward) that we receive a scrap of a clue about what he may have been through, and not ’til the fifth that we understand how he makes a living from what he’s doing. He’s not an emotive character by any stretch of the imagination, and seems quite detached most of the time, but it’s clear he sympathizes with humans and mushi both, and truly does want to help if he can.

Reading Mushishi puts one in a mellow mood, largely because of Urushibara’s atmospheric artwork. The remoteness of Ginko’s destinations comes through strongly, and with every character but Ginko wearing kimono, it feels like this might be happening in “a simpler time.” In fact, some of the villagers remind me of the townsfolk frequently encountered in Rumiko Takahashi’s period piece, InuYasha, who also typically appear in the context of some kind of bizarre supernatural manifestation.

The nature of this series doesn’t lend itself to multi-volume binges, but I look forward to consuming each one calmly and carefully, which seems to be the approach best dictated by the story. Seven out of a total of ten volumes are currently available (published by Del Rey), with the final three coming in an omnibus in July.

I reviewed Mushishi as part of the Manga Moveable Feast; more reviews and commentary can be found here.

Emma 1-2 by Kaoru Mori: A

More than any other non-shojo series, Emma is the one I most frequently see being mistaken for shojo. It’s easy to see why: it’s a low-key love story between a lovely and graceful maid and the liberally minded son of a wealthy merchant family. When we first meet Emma and William, she is working in the home of his former governess, Mrs. Kelly Stownar, whom he’s been very remiss in visiting.

When he does finally deign to visit, William is immediately entranced by Emma, preferring her over the aristocratic match (with the sympathetic Eleanor) his father endorses. Many other would-be suitors confess their affections for Emma, but she turns all of them down. William, though, is different: he doesn’t ask for a definitive answer, but is content to merely to converse with her. Kelly, who worries what will become of Emma after her death, nudges the two together, but her encouragement is countered by William’s father, who refuses to approve the match.

I find it rather difficult to articulate my love for Emma, which beguiled me immediately. I liken it to my immediate affection for Castle Waiting; though the themes of the stories are different, the bond between Emma and Kelly is not unlike that between the disparate denizens of the titular castle, and Kelly’s attempt to ensure Emma’s happiness is the kind of story that really wins my heart. I also really appreciate that Eleanor is not portrayed as a scheming villainess; she’s a genuinely likable girl and the instant rapport she shares with William makes it seem much more feasible that they could actually get together than is typically the case when romantic rivals are introduced.

As good as the story is, it’s really the art that I have the most to say about, which is definitely a rarity for me. Kaoru Mori did copious research on the time period (circa 1885), and it really shows. Interiors (homes, ballrooms) and exteriors (bustling street scenes, public buildings) all look fantastic, and evoke atmosphere as well as era. While a variety of panel sizes is used, the panels never break free of their rigid rectangular confines, and if that isn’t a metaphor for the class system, I’ll eat my keyboard. Writing a comic about Victorian England and having the action sprawl all over the page would be completely wrong, but that hadn’t occurred to me until I’d seen it done completely right here.

Mori is also adept at using pacing and paneling together for dramatic effect. The most striking example of this occurs near the end of the second volume. Emma is leaving London and, after several abortive attempts to see William before she goes, boards a train. William gets wind of this too late, and there are some great panels as he pushes his way through the crowds at the station, finally bursting through into a two-page spread depicting an empty platform. It’s really masterful, and I had to reread that sequence a couple of times to admire it.

With such artistic and storytelling skill on display, I was very surprised to read that this is Mori’s first serialized manga. Seriously? If that’s the case, I’m genuinely excited about what she might create in the future, and would like to preemptively request that it all be licensed for American audiences.

I read these two volumes for the second Manga Moveable Feast, for which I am a very tardy contributor. For more reviews, essays, and thoughts about Emma, please check out Rocket Bomber, our host for this endeavor.

All ten volumes of Emma are available in English from CMX. The main storyline concludes in volume seven; volumes eight through ten are comprised of side stories.

Sexy Voice and Robo by Iou Kuroda: A-

From the back cover:
Working part-time as a telephone-dating operator, Nico Hayashi has plenty of clients eager to engage her in titillating conversation. But what her customers don’t know is this: the person they’re flirting with is really a fourteen-year-old junior high school girl with a secret agenda.

On the phone she’s known as Sexy Voice. But, really, she’s more than a professional flirt. Secretly, she wants to change the world and maybe become a spy and fortuneteller, too.

Along for the ride is her friend Iichiro Sudo. He’s an underemployed twentysomething hipster with an obsession for collecting toy robots. Together they are Sexy Voice and Robo… two people doing their best to bring some hope into this crazy world.

Review:
Fourteen-year-old Nico Hayashi is an observer of human nature. She loves talking to strangers and has a part-time job working for a tele-club, through which she lures lonely men out for meetings and observes their behavior from a distance as they wait for her to arrive. One day, as she’s doing this, she meets an old man who, noting her expertise at matching character traits to voices, enlists her help in analyzing a recording of a kidnapper. Nico, who harbors dreams of being either a spy or a fortune-teller, goes one step further and tries to find the culprit. Once she does, she pursues him, thinking, “If I lose him, that’s it…. I have no idea where this kid is, but right now I’m the only one in the universe who can save him.”

Nico’s success leads to further assignments from the old man, including checking on the welfare of a runaway, investigating flaws in a company’s new product, and locating a kid who stole a bunch of money from a gambling parlor. She uses one of her tele-club contacts, Iichiro Sudo (whom she nicknames Robo since he collects robotic toys), to do her bidding throughout, and generally has a pretty good time of things until she meets Mr. Forgetful.

Mr. Forgetful seems kind and benevolent, but forgets everything after three days. Nico evidently knows him, though, and suggests that perhaps she’s his daughter. They spend a few days together, shopping and eating unagi, but Mr. Forgetful eventually receives a mysterious assignment. It’s unclear at first just how much Nico knows, but eventually we learn that Mr. Forgetful is an assassin sent to target the old man and that she’s been trying to prevent it. Nico wants to save them both, and convinces Mr. Forgetful not to carry out his assignment, a failure for which he is later killed.

Nico plays with people. She enjoys leading them around and having them under her control, but it’s a devastating blow when she learns that her actions ultimately led to Mr. Forgetful’s death. For a while, she tries to shift the blame onto the old man, but can’t escape the implications of what she’s done. While a career as a spy or a fortune-teller sounded ideal only a short time ago, Nico now reflects that controlling someone’s secrets or fate is not what she wants to do. Instead, she wants to bring hope. This impression is reinforced when she meets an elderly retired spy who did the job because she was the best one for it (just like Nico, thinking “I’m the only one in the universe who can!”) and who has no regrets about the “unhappy endings” where others ended up getting hurt. Nico isn’t sure what she wants to be, but she knows she wants a happy ending.

Unfortunately, we don’t get to see much of what happens after Nico processes this information, as there are only two more chapters to the series. In these, though, she’s far less controlling, allowing herself to be led along by a string of mysterious notes left in love hotels and even attempting to set Robo up with a lady friend. Perhaps that’s her way of following through with the goal to bring hope, even though her plan backfires when said lady friend ends up being mentally disturbed. I’d love to see this series continued someday and see Nico using her observational skills and cleverness in a more selfless way.

I really admire how Kuroda-sensei tells the story, because he doesn’t feed one the conclusions about Nico’s revelation on a spoon; all the clues are there, but one must make one’s own connections. Visual elements also help show Nico’s state of mind, as we often see her observing the city from a lofty perch, looking down on everyone from a distance while ruminating on how it’s easier to talk to strangers. When she’s on assignment, though, we get more of a street view as she’s down amongst the world and its people, trying to accomplish her objective. I began to wonder whether Nico had any friends, but by the end we’ve seen a classmate of hers a couple of times and she also begins treating Robo more as a person than a minion. Perhaps there’s hope for her yet to make the meaningful human connections that the elderly spy suggested she would never have since she’s “too busy fishing to get hooked.”

Ultimately, Sexy Voice and Robo is a multi-layered work that gives readers a lot to consider. I reviewed it as part of the Manga Moveable Feast, and can definitely see why it was chosen, since there are so many aspects one could talk about. Please visit David Welsh’s blog, Manga Curmudgeon, and check out the contributions of the other participants!