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.
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