Fullmetal Alchemist 1-2 by Hiromu Arakawa: B+

I’ve been hoarding volumes of Fullmetal Alchemist for several years. Having heard it praised for its impressive storytelling, I decided to wait until it was nearer to being finished in Japan before starting it, with the idea that I might be spared some of the long waits between volumes that other fans have endured. But now, word is that the end is nigh, and with MJ recommending it to me so ardently, the time has finally come. Cracking open that first volume felt like quite the momentous occasion.

Edward and Alphonse Elric are unlike normal teenage boys. Both studied alchemy as children and when Edward found a way to bring their beloved mother back to life, the boys performed the ritual without a second thought, not realizing—in the “equivalent exchange” demanded by alchemy—that it would cost Edward his left leg and Alphonse his entire body. After exchanging his right arm for Alphonse’s soul, Edward grafted the soul into the one human-shaped thing that was handy at the time: a suit of armor. Edward is haunted by this mistake, not to mention the memory of what they actually managed to resurrect for their sacrifice, and his primary concern is regaining their original bodies. To that end, they travel the world looking for the Philosopher’s Stone, an alchemical power booster that might make this possible.

The brothers’ travels bring them into contact with trouble in various forms. Their first deed is to expose an alchemist posing as a religious figure, followed by freeing occupants of a mining town from the corruption of a military official and foiling a train hijacking. While this is going on, Edward is also trying to learn as much as he can about biological transmutation. In the second volume, his research leads him to a state alchemist who’s had some success in this area, which in turn takes the story down a very dark avenue involving human experimentation and a vigilante named Scar who takes it upon himself to execute alchemists who have violated the laws of nature.

I knew exceedingly little about Fullmetal Alchemist going into this, which is great. I knew about the brothers’ injuries, though not how they obtained them, and I knew they’d meet a mechanically inclined girl at some point. That’s it. As a result, I was surprised by a number of things as I read, including the presence of comedy. I’m not sure why I thought there wouldn’t be any, but having lighthearted moments sprinkled throughout is definitely welcome, especially once the story delves into more disturbing territory. I particularly love anything that shows that Alphonse, trapped inside a hulking steel shell, is really just a kid.

I was also surprised (and impressed) that the series tackles the religion vs. science question right away with the story of the fraudulent holy man. This also provides an opportunity to introduce Edward’s feelings about alchemy: because alchemists strive to understand the laws of nature, they are perhaps the closest to God that a human can achieve, but overstepping certain bounds—he likens this to the hubris of Icarus—leads only to sorrow and pain. His conflicted feelings resurface several times in these two volumes; one gets the idea that he would like to avoid the very kind of alchemy he’s been researching, but because it’s his best chance at bodily restoration, he’s got no choice.

Lastly, I was downright shocked by some things in the second volume. Somehow, I had expected the Elric brothers to save Nina, the child of a desperate alchemist about to lose state funding, from her father’s experimentation, but this was not to be. Similarly, I expected them to escape grievous bodily harm when fighting Scar so imagine my surprise when both are gravely injured in volume two. That’s just not normal! Shounen heroes are supposed to sustain wounds that would kill an average guy three times over and then get up for more!

I had originally planned to read three volumes for this review, but so much had happened by the end of volume two that I required time to digest it all. I’m used to a shounen manga’s second volume being the stage of the story where some wacky episodic hijinks introduce our hero to the rivals who’ll eventually become part of his entourage. It’s usually not until half a dozen volumes later that you glimpse the real meat of the story. Not so with Fullmetal Alchemist, which lulls you into expecting that episodic setup but makes with the buildup and continuity right away. I can already tell, and believe me that I mean this as a most sincere compliment, that this is going to be one challenging series.

Fullmetal Alchemist is published in English by VIZ. There are 22 volumes currently available, with volume 23 due out next month. We’re pretty close to being caught up to Japan, where volume 25 just came out in late April.

Ristorante Paradiso by Natsume Ono: B+

Twenty-one-year-old Nicoletta arrives in Rome with the intention of confronting her absentee mother, Olga, and revealing the fact of her existence to Olga’s husband, Lorenzo, who had believed his wife to be childless. Instead, she becomes entranced by her mother’s world and ultimately finds a place in it.

Olga and Lorenzo run a restaurant, and though the food is excellent, many of the patrons come just to see the waiters, a staff of mostly older men who all wear glasses (whether necessary or not) to indulge Olga’s whim. At first Nicoletta is perplexed by the multitude of women swooning over these men until she begins to notice the particular charms of Claudio, the head waiter. Claudio is graceful, sexy, and very kind, though he’s still hung up on his ex-wife and continues to wear his wedding ring. Although Nicoletta originally wrangles a job as a kitchen apprentice in order to be near him, she proves to be genuinely good at cooking. She becomes part of the restaurant’s family, and her relationship with Olga improves as a result.

Ristorante Paradiso is a completely different kind of story than not simple, the other Natsume Ono title currently available in English. It’s happy, for one thing, with a cozy, slice-of-life storytelling style and the kind of predictable yet comforting conclusion that would be perfectly at home in an Italian holiday kind of chick flick. Things between Nicoletta and Olga work out too easily, but most of the focus is on the guys anyway, so I’m not as annoyed as I otherwise would be.

Let’s talk about those guys for a minute. Sexy Claudio is definitely the star among them, but grumpy yet kind Luciano is another standout, as is Gigi, Lorenzo’s eccentric half-brother who seems to have a completely unspoken thing for the boss’s wife. Nicoletta is continually upstaged by these men—and by Olga, whose zeal for life makes her a sympathetic character despite the mistakes she made in the past—and it’s no wonder that Gente, the prequel/sequel series due from VIZ in July, focuses on them and not her. Nicoletta starts out as a directionless twenty-something in search of her place in the world, but we just don’t get to know her well enough to find her journey truly compelling. That said, I did appreciate her confidence in certain situations and she has a terrific final line.

It might just be an illusion, but Natsume Ono’s art looks a little more traditional here than in not simple. There’s no way you’d mistake her work for anyone else’s, but the characters seem more normally proportioned and she really does a great job in conveying Claudio’s gentle demeanor and appeal whenever he appears. While the “show don’t tell” rule gets broken on several occasions, there are still a few examples of good nonverbal communication, too. My one artistic complaint is that I wish we could have seen more of the food! Then we might have had something like the Antique Bakery of Italian cuisine. The subtle inclusion of a hilariously oversized ravioli made by Olga is some compensation, however.

In the end, Ristorante Paradiso is definitely worth reading. The plot won’t knock your socks off, but the experience will likely put a smile on your face nonetheless.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire 1-3 by Kyo Shirodaira and Yuri Kimura: B+

For the first two volumes of The Record of a Fallen Vampire, one thinks one has things figured out. There’s the vampire king, Akabara Strauss, who has tirelessly searched for his imprisoned queen for 1000 years despite being hunted by both human and supernatural foes, inspiring much romantic speculation. There’s the dhampire (a human/vampire mix) Jin Renka, who is also motivated by a love that was taken from him, a human named Yuki who was possessed by the Black Swan—a curse that imparts the ability to nullify the vampire king’s magic—and killed by Strauss. And then there’s the newest incarnation of the Black Swan, Kayuki, who, instead of fighting Strauss like she ought to do, instead initiates a truce with him because his help is needed in dealing with a problem of some magnitude.

And then along comes volume three and turns everything on its ear. It would be unfair to spoil the surprise, but at least one new development is so cracktastic one has to admire it.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire is scripted by Kyo Shirodaira, whose authorial blurb mentions he’s a novelist (and performed writerly duties for Spiral: Bonds of Reasoning, as well). He’s taken a novelistic approach with this series, too, pacing the opening volumes to dole out morsels of information at just the right pace, and waiting until the third volume to roll out the surprises. Also, because this series is complete in nine volumes, one suspects that the rest of the story will be equally well plotted. Shirodaira’s sure-handed approach allows one to confidently accept ideas like dhampires and curses without a fuss, concepts that could easily seem ridiculous if sloppily executed.

The characters are also an interesting bunch, and a couple of them—Akabara and his former general turned enemy, Bridget—have already been shown to have layers beyond their combative roles. The dhampires and Black Swan might be compelled to fight the super-powerful Strauss, but nonetheless concede that he’s a good guy. He definitely has his share of sins, but he knows this and is fully prepared to pay for them, and it doesn’t deter him from his relentless search for the queen. Even Laetitia, the young dhampire who Strauss has taken under his wing, manages to be the child-like comic relief without being annoying.

The one problematic note in the early volumes is the art by Yuri Kimura. Improvement is already noticeable by volume three, but problems with anatomy and proportion plague the first volume. The most glaring example is the back cover, which depicts a creepy, pink-haired girl with huge hands and a huge head on a too-tall stalk of a neck. She looks like an alien! This is actually supposed to be Yuki, who happily looks more human in the interior art.

It’s probably obvious that I enjoyed these three volumes quite a bit. I hope to get to the rest soon, because this is a series where storytelling momentum is especially important.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire is published in English by VIZ. All nine volumes are available now.

Cactus’s Secret 2 by Nana Haruta: B-

Miku Yamada has finally managed to make her dense crush, Kyohei Fujioka, understand that she has feelings for him, even though he doesn’t reciprocate. Meanwhile, a pompous classmate publicly declares his affections for Miku and attempts to get Kyohei expelled for stealing the answers to the midterm exams. Later, Miku and Kyohei are both assigned to the Sports Day Planning Committee, where the lovely chief gets too close to Kyohei for Miku’s comfort.

I didn’t have too great an impression of this series after the first volume, since I found the lead character abrasive and largely to blame for her own angst. Things improve in volume two, in which Miku’s tendency to rant actually helps clear up the cheating accusation and in which Kyohei exhibits sufficient obliviousness to justify her irritation. There’s also an especially nice chapter where the two of them get lost on their way to karaoke with friends and end up having a nice time together at the arcade, complete with some genuinely amusing photo stickers.

Unfortunately, we’re only in volume two and the cast already includes four romantic rivals. They do propel the plot along, at least, with the Planning Committee chief causing Miku some pain when she realizes that something Kyohei said to her is the same thing he’d say to anybody else and the new male character offering to reveal Kyohei’s mysterious secret if Miku goes out with him, but it’s still tiresome.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Blood+: Kowloon Nights by Hirotaka Kisaragi: B-

In the world of Blood+, a girl named Saya and her trusty servant Hagi battle against chiropterans, a race of blood-sucking creatures. This one-volume prequel focuses on Hagi’s 1993 stay in Hong Kong, during which he teams up with a hot-headed cop named Nishi to put down a man-made pack of chiropterans that’s been leaving corpses in a certain area of town.

Unlike the other manga series in the franchise, Kowloon Nights is definitely intended for a female audience. BL artist Hirotaka Kisaragi (best known in the US for Innocent Bird) excels at depicting attractive male characters and infuses Nishi and Hagi’s interactions with a definite boys’ love vibe. Although there’s not so much as a kiss between them, Nishi frequently blushes and experiences heart palpitations in Hagi’s presence and there are two occasions in which Hagi slurps Nishi’s blood in sexy fashion, including one particular panel that suggests a different bodily fluid entirely.

The plot itself starts promisingly, but soon becomes muddled when a crime boss of some kind reveals his intent to develop a drug that grants immortality. The story probably would’ve been better if it had focused solely on Nishi and the fascination and concern he feels for Hagi, but I suppose they did need a villain to fight so that Hagi could demonstrate that he cares for Nishi, too, in his own way.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

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.

switch 1-2 by naked ape: C+

Although I knew of the existence of switch, I hadn’t been motivated to read it until David Welsh likened it to Wild Adapter fan fiction. Since I’m pining for new Wild Adapter rather ardently, I decided to check it out.

switch tells the story of a government-run Narcotics Control Division, specifically a pair of rookie investigators, as they attempt to get dangerous drugs off the street. Prickly Hal Kurabayashi is the more senior of the pair and friendly Kai Eto is his new partner—together they pursue leads, conduct busts, and go undercover in sting operations. In addition to smaller cases, they’re also involved in the ongoing investigation into Dragon Speed, a stimulant coming out of Hong Kong.

To judge this series by its premise alone, one might think (as I did) that it sounds pretty interesting. I’m a fan of detective fiction, after all, as well as stories with long mystery arcs. Unfortunately, switch falls flat in its execution. None of the cases is particularly captivating so far, with the possible exception of a popular actor who’s hooked on Dragon Speed, but what’s more disappointing is that none of the characters are, either. Kai possesses a violent alter-ego that activates when he is injured, and normally this would provoke speculation about his mysterious past, but it just comes across as bland cliché. Hal doesn’t do much except act surly. The tone’s also rather strange, with frequent gag panels and scenarios that are supposed to be funny but just really, really aren’t.

All that said, David did not fail to mention that switch gets off to a lackluster start but that he found a later volume to be much improved. Aside from some superficial similarities, there’s not much of a Wild Adapter vibe so far, but it’s pretty clear that Hal and Kai are going to become closer and learn to rely on one another eventually, so perhaps it will develop in future volumes. In the meantime, if you’re hankering for something like Wild Adapter, might I suggest simply rereading the original?

Black Butler 2 by Yana Toboso: B-

This volume begins with Sebastian, butler extraordinaire, whipping together impressive preparations for a charity function with very little notice while simultaneously dealing with disasters caused by the other (incompetent) members of the household staff. From there, Ciel’s investigatory skills are called upon by Queen Victoria and the action relocates to London, where Jack the Ripper is causing quite a stir. Ciel ends up getting captured by a skeevy viscount, Sebastian rescues him, and then the two of them discover the killer’s real identity.

If you’re thinking, “Gee, that sounds just like volume one,” you would be correct! Thankfully, though the overall outline is very similar, the details offer enough variety to forestall boredom. I enjoyed the London setting, for example, as well as learning more about Ciel’s family, Sebastian’s love of cats (pets exist in his world but “leave much to be desired”), and how the contract between them works.

Ultimately, though there are still things about Black Butler that I’m not too keen on, I still find it to be an entertaining read. It took my mind off my troubles for a while, and that’s good enough for me.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

How to Control a Sidecar by Makoto Tateno: B-

In this spin-off of How to Capture a Martini, stoic bartender Kiyohito Kousaka is pursued by a pair of guys looking to recruit him for a three-way relationship. He initially wants nothing to do with them, but when one of them goes missing, he cares enough to want to get to the bottom of the mystery.

There are definitely some good things about How to Control a Sidecar. The relationship between the two men—Fumi and Kanashiro—is not exactly what it seems, and I like that the title story ends differently than I’d been expecting. Even the regrettable inclusion of a nonconsensual scene is tempered somewhat by the fact that the victim collects evidence and sees a doctor, though stops short of filing a police report, and that all parties involved acknowledge the act for what it was.

It’s the second story, “How to Subdue a Stinger,” that I found most disappointing, since it completely negates the unconventional ending of the title story and endows Kousaka with a near-total personality transplant. The impression I get from it is that Tateno’s readers were dissatisfied with the original ending and that she wrote this to appease them. That’s really too bad, because it was much better the first way.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

Banana Fish 3-4 by Akimi Yoshida: A-

The action ramps up in these two volumes of Banana Fish as Ash and his allies follow the trail of the drug known as “Banana Fish” from New York to Los Angeles and more details about its nature, as well as Ash’s background, come to light.

There’s a lot going on here, including prison power struggles, an incredibly badass assassination attempt in a Chinatown fish market, a cross-country road trip, conflicting loyalties and military conspiracies. This is an intricately plotted story—an epic quest that has become absolutely fascinating and causes actual pangs of remorse when one must tell oneself, “No, you can’t go on to volume five. What about that library book that was due yesterday?”

Ash is a highly compelling lead, and a few of his layers are peeled back in these two volumes, giving readers a little more insight into what makes him tick. For instance, a lot of the time when he comes across as harsh, he’s just sparing others the need to voice unpleasant truths. This comes to light in a scene where he convinces Eiji to return to Japan by informing him he’ll be a hindrance—afterwards we see that it really bothered Ash to have to hurt Eiji in this way, though he pretends otherwise, but that he’s willing to do it in order to protect the one person who has ever helped him without expecting anything in return. Ash was betrayed at a young age by the negligence of his parents, but still has the ability to protect those he cares about, even though he might pretend he’s too tough to feel such tender emotions.

Eiji’s motivations are also explored in these volumes. Though his comfortable life has enabled him to live without a gun in his hand—“You can do something I can’t,” Ash remarks. “We’re even.”—he nonetheless has had his share of problems. Once a promising athlete, an injury shook his confidence and left him feeling adrift. He might not be invested in finding out the truth about Banana Fish, but he is invested in Ash, and staying by his side could be just what he needs to feel like he is accomplishing something in his life. “I want to quit quitting,” he remarks, and even though he is exposed to quite a lot of horrible things through his association with Ash, his convictions do not waver until Ash flat-out tells him he’ll do more harm than good.

I love the bond that’s developing between these two characters—bolstered by a couple of really awesome scenes between them—and also enjoy the dynamic amongst the older members of Ash’s retinue, a pair of journalists (one Japanese, one American) with their own reasons for tagging along and who occasionally offer insights onto the feelings and perspectives of their younger counterparts. It’s a very well-rounded cast, and a few ladies even show up in this volume, though all seem poised to be victims of one kind or another.

The only thing that still bugs me about Banana Fish is the art. A lot of the time it’s quite good and I can actually see what the back cover means when it says, “Nature made Ash Lynx beautiful.” Sometimes, though, the anatomy is rather weird—there’s one high kick from Ash that only a Barbie could achieve—and the depiction of African-Americans continues to be problematic. Seriously, please quit drawing their lips so they look like Mr. Bill, Yoshida-sensei. It makes me sad.

Minor complaints aside, Banana Fish is a masterpiece of plot and characterization, and should really be read by anyone who considers themselves a manga fan.