Manga and Book Reviews by Michelle Smith
Wow, a BL comedy I actually liked! I reviewed Stay Close to Me for this month’s BL Bookrack and thought it achieved a nice balance of silliness and genuine emotion. Now I need to find the time to read Yaya Sakuragi’s Hey, Sensei? and Tea for Two!
You can find that review here.
Review copy provided by the publisher.
I reviewed this one-volume boys’ love title for the latest BL Bookrack column at Manga Bookshelf. It’s essentially the story of how the love of a good man helps a good-natured dog trainer get over his past trauma. Unfortunately, it’s pretty dull, but I did like the ending.
You can find that review here.
Review copy provided by the publisher.
While I do my best to appreciate manga art, I generally do not choose to read a particular series solely because of it. The exception to this is BLAME!, a ten-volume series by Tsutomu Nihei that boasts “an endless labyrinth of cyberdungeons filled with concrete and steel.” Thinking that sounded pretty durn awesome, and prepared to encounter an occasionally incomprehensible story, I took the plunge.
And man, is BLAME! gorgeous! Killy, the unemotional and practically unstoppable protagonist, spends most of his time roaming a giant structure known as “The City,” looking for humans who might carry Net Terminal Genes, which pre-mutated man once used to communicate with the Netsphere (overseen by The Authority). It’s not unusual for a whole chapter to go by with no dialogue at all as Killy continues his journey, sometimes reduced to no more than a tiny speck on a narrow bridge spanning a dark chasm. The place is gloomy and cavernous, filled with pipes, corridors, stairs, and the occasional abyss. Nihei excels in creating his enormous and dangerous world, and also in conveying Killy’s progress, as demonstrated by a couple of pages from volume six that I scanned for a recent Let’s Get Visual column.
Killy encounters a few small pockets of civilization but has no luck finding anyone with the Net Terminal Genes, which are necessary to curtail the endless expansion of The City, since the builder bots who construct it were never given the instruction to stop. He does team up with a former scientist, Cibo, whose attempt to access the Netsphere with synthesized genes ended in disaster and introduced The Safeguard to The City. The Safeguard are mechanical creatures who can derive their bodily forms from the City itself. Originally designed to protect the Net from unauthorized access, their chief focus now is exerminating humanity. Humans must also contend with the Silicon Creatures, a race of cyborgs who also want to access the Net.
Killy and Cibo engage in countless fights against the Safeguard and Silicon Creatures, resulting in some pretty massive damage. Cibo goes through about three bodies throughout the course of the series, while Killy must lose his arm about eight times. (There is a lot of limb loss in this series, as well as quite a few still-conscious partial people.) It gradually becomes clear that Killy is not exactly human himself and that he’s able to heal from even the most devastating injuries. He also can’t remember where he got his gun—a powerful Graviton Beam Emitter that creates a straight line of destruction 70 kilometers long—but it’s awfully similar to one carried by Sana-Kan, a powerful Safeguard who was able to get close to Killy and Cibo in a humanoid guise.
Eventually Killy and Cibo enter a quasi-independent realm, which seems to be the headquarters of a company called Toha Heavy Industries. The artificial intelligence in charge has stored the genetic information of humans that used to dwell within, and it’s from there that Killy finally gets his sample. Unfortunately, it falls first into the hands of a pair of sympathetic temporary Safeguards (seriously, one utters the line “Also, you might see my arm lying around somewhere. If you could pick it up, that’d be great.”) and finally into those of a Silicon Creature, whose attempt to access the Net somehow leads to one final mutation for Cibo and a pretty crazy resolution to the story. The final page gives one a lot to ponder, and I’m sure there are a variety of fan opinions on what exactly happened.
This is, of course, a vast simplification of the plot, and I am omitting quite a lot that I am at a loss to understand or explain. But here’s the thing… it doesn’t matter. BLAME! is so fascinating and its world so grimly compelling that it simply doesn’t matter if sometimes one has to stare at a panel and wonder what the hell one is even looking at. From someone like me, who usually demands that a plot make sense, that’s pretty high praise indeed.
BLAME! was published in English by TOKYOPOP. All ten volumes were released.
From the back cover:
When their high school’s pop-music club is about to be disbanded due to lack of interest, four girls step up to fill the membership quota. Unfortunately, lead guitarist Yui Hirasawa has never played an instrument in her life. Ever. And although she likes the idea of being in a band, standing in front of the mirror posing with her guitar is a lot easier than actually playing it. It’s gonna be a while before this motley crew is rocking out, but with their spunk and determination cranked to 11, anything is possible!
Review:
I tried. I really did. “Loads of people like K-ON!,” I told myself. “There has to be something worthwhile about it!” Unfortunately, I didn’t enjoy it much and can only conclude that I am not its target audience.
For example, I know this series ran in a magazine for men and, as such, some degree of fanservice is to be expected. Most of the essentials—a random trip to the beach, a hot springs scene during which someone impulsively stands up, and a panty shot—are accounted for. That’s not my thing, but that is fine. Occasionally, though, the poses are so awkward and so trying to pander to some specific vision of the feminine ideal that I just have to scratch my head. For example:
Is this pose sexy to someone? And if so, how come? Is it because she looks like she really needs to pee? I honestly do not understand.
Moving away from the art, the story is where K-ON! really has the most potential. Four girls—Yui, Ritsu, Mio, and Tsumugi—join the pop music club at their school and quickly choose what instruments they’re going to play. Aaaand then proceed to sit around a lot and eat a bunch of snacks. Because this is a four-panel manga, the focus is on getting to the punchline, but these are seldom amusing. Mostly they center on gags like Ritsu suddenly being motivated to play the drums after Mio suggests that she has gained some weight. High-larious.
There are a couple of interesting moments, though, like when the girls take Yui out guitar shopping or when they perform at the school festival. Unfortunately, Yui is so dumb that she first forgets that she needs to actually buy a guitar and then has to be reminded that she should be learning to play it rather than simply posing with it. Secondly, the entire “performance” consists of four panels of the girls starting their song. Turn the page and they’re thanking the audience. “That’s it?!” I boggled. Unfortunately, the rigid pacing required by the four-panel format really doesn’t allow for more, and without any reaction shots from the crowd it’s impossible to gauge how good they’re supposed to be.
In the end, I am disappointed. I’m willing to bet that the anime—free from the strictures of format and including at least one song performed by the voice actors—is much better, but I doubt I’ll be checking it out any time soon.
K-ON! is published in English by Yen Press. Volume one will be out later this month. The series is complete in Japan with four volumes.
Review copy provided by the publisher.
For my latest column at Comics Should Be Good, I reviewed the debut volumes of two (relatively) new Natsume Ono series: House of Five Leaves and Gente: The People of Ristorante Paradiso. I really loved House of Five Leaves, with its story of a hapless samurai drawn into the schemes of a fascinating criminal. Gente is more a collection of low-key short stories than a single narrative, which means it’s slightly less awesome but still very entertaining.
You can find those reviews here.
Both House of Five Leaves and Gente are published in English by VIZ. The former is still ongoing in Japan, where it is up to eight volumes, but the latter (a “delightfully whimsical continuation” of Ristorante Paradiso) is complete with three volumes.
Review copy for Gente provided by the publisher.
When I started reading Maid Sama!, it was with the goal of catching up on the series so that I could cover the review copies I received of volumes five and six. I planned to give my personal copies of volumes one and two—as far as I ever got in actually buying the series—to my (awesome) local library when finished. Volume one went into the to-donate box as planned, but somewhere in the middle of volume two I fell not quite in love, but at least in profound like (and removed volume one from the box).
The premise of Maid Sama! is this: Seika High School was formerly an all-boys school, and despite the introduction of female students still remains 80% male. Misaki Ayuzawa ends up attending Seika because of its reasonable tuition but is determined to make the school a more pleasant place for the girls. She works hard to earn the position of Student Council President, and makes it her mission to whip the rambunctious boys into shape. Little do they know that when the “demon president” leaves school she heads to her part-time job at a maid café.
Most of the boys obey Misaki, if unwillingly, but handsome Takumi Usui is the exception. It’s no exaggeration to say that Usui can do anything and do it well, and one of his special talents is convincing Misaki to consider the boys’ perspective when arguments arise. He quickly learns about her secret job and thereafter always shows up at the right time to protect her from dangers like overzealous fanboy patrons and scheming students from a rival school. This forms the basic plot structure of Maid Sama!. Something wacky happens, Usui whips out some previously unknown talent, and the day is saved. Alas, most of these scenarios are uninspired, some painfully.
The most egregious example of plot lameness occurs in volume four. The staff of the café takes a group vacation to the beach, whereupon their hostess proclaims that her nephew can crossdress to his heart’s content if only he wins a random beach volleyball tournament. I’m pretty sure I groaned aloud when I got to that part. Still, I found myself remembering a comment from MJ, the basic gist of which was that she can forgive shoddy plotting if the character relationships are compelling. Indeed, it’s Misaki and Usui, both individually and together, who really save this series and make me want to read more.
Misaki starts out as rather abrasive, but mellows a bit thanks to Usui’s influence and by volume two is more often depicted as cool and intelligent. She never fails to give 100% in whatever she is trying to do and at times is downright valiant in her desire to protect the female students. Usui is one of those effortless genius types and is in love with Misaki, though his teasing nature prevents her from ever taking his declarations seriously. I love that Usui respects Misaki for her brains and strength—though it saddens me that he seems to believe that because Misaki is a girl there are limits to what she can expect to accomplish—and is impervious to advances from other girls.
It’s obvious that these two are meant to be together and it’s the rare pulse-pounding moments between them that make Maid Sama! such a fun read. Indeed, though the volleyball part of volume four is pretty dumb, it nevertheless leads to frustration on Misaki’s part when Usui, always her ally, is now suddenly her opponent. This, in turn, leads to one of the most romantic moments yet, which is unfortunately interrupted. Still, Misaki has been gradually warming to Usui, and it’s at the end of this volume that the narration observes that “Completely unnoticed, feelings had begun to grow.”
While I can’t claim that Maid Sama! is groundbreaking in any way, it is nonetheless extremely enjoyable and I’m looking forward to continuing with it. It would be nice if the plotting got more interesting, but so long as Misaki and Usui’s relationship continues to develop as it has been, I’ll be satisfied.
From the back cover:
Where dreams turn into living nightmares… Behind the gates of the exclusive Australian boarding school, Greenwich Private College, wait beautiful Victorian architecture, an excellent education, and a terrible secret: students have been known to wander into the surrounding bushlands and vanish… without a trace! Mysterious forces are at work, and as the rigorous atmosphere of the school starts to slowly crumble around them, twin sisters Amber and Jeanie are about to learn that the key to the school’s dark past may lie in the world of their dreams…
Review:
Due to unexplained family circumstances leading to the departure of their father for Singapore and the sale of the family home, twin sisters Amber and Jeanie find themselves shuffled off to Greenwich Private College, where their aunt works as headmistress. Said aunt promptly heads off to a symposium and funeral, leaving her nieces to get used to the place on their own. Before she leaves, she cautions the girls to hide the fact that they’re twins, since the Vice Principal is really weird about that.
Pretty quickly Amber and Jeanie begin hearing rumors about disappearances at the school, and the weird dreams they begin sharing, together with a mysterious sealed room and a bizarre series of paintings, suggest that there may be some truth to the legends. After a clandestine midnight party involving a séance, one classmate (Millie) goes missing, and Amber starts acting strangely. Jeanie begins to investigate the earlier vanishings, assisted by a young teacher whose roommate disappeared eleven years ago, and gradually uncovers what’s been going on.
As I read, I kept feeling like I was playing one of those first-person adventure video games like Dark Fall, where one explores the deserted building where one’s brother was last seen and looks for clues to his disappearance. The fact that the school is set in the middle of the Australian bush, and is quickly isolated by torrential rains and flooded roads, only reinforces the feeling. The interiors of the school are lovely; I wish there actually was a game based on this series, because I’d love to be able to wander about the place.
There are some minor things I could complain about. Amber is occasionally kind of annoying, one classmate pops up a couple of times only to dispense important information, and Jeanie fails to realize that tugging on the cloth under a candelabra is going to make it fall over and start a fire. Also, one of the best moments is when some of the vanished girls suddenly emerge from the bush to surround the school, looking for all the world like they’ve simply been caught out in the rain in their nightgowns. Jeanie implores her classmates not to let them in and then… we don’t hear about them again for quite some time.
Still, one sure way for a graphic novel of any kind to win my heart is to maintain a certain creepy atmosphere, and The Dreaming accomplishes this admirably. From the first volume to the last, Chan never allows the suspense to flag, and though there are a couple of points about which I’m a little fuzzy, the conclusion hangs together very well. The fate of the twins is especially intriguing, and I have some questions I’d love to discuss with someone else who’s read it. (Seriously, let me know if you’re interested!) In fact, some of the best elements of the story, especially the common ground between the present set of twins and the last set to inhabit the school, are things that I’m determined not to spoil.
I didn’t expect to enjoy The Dreaming this much, but I have to say that it has quite effectively deposed Nightschool as my favorite OEL series. I can see myself rereading it again in the near future.
Review copy provided by the publisher.
Millennium Snow is the first series by Bisco Hatori (of Ouran High School Host Club fame), one of those that began as a stand-alone but eventually achieved serialization. It’s been on hiatus for some time, but now that Ouran has wrapped up, some fans are hoping that Hatori will return to it. I’m not so sure that’s a worthy endeavor.
Chiyuki Matsuoka has had a weak heart since birth, and wasn’t expected to live past the age of fifteen. She’s managed to make it to seventeen, but spends most of her time in the hospital. One day, as she is gazing out the window, she spots a boy fall from a building and dashes out of the hospital to check on him. He is Toya, the very personification of the seemingly gruff hero who actually has a heart of gold. He’s also a vampire, weak from his refusal to drink blood.
Toya is exceedingly abrasive to begin with, but eventually demonstrates he’s not such a bad guy by doing things like accompanying Chiyuki on an afternoon outing (vampires have overcome their aversion to sunlight) and catching a little kid’s loose balloon. Chiyuki falls for him pretty quickly and offers to become his partner. Having a human to feed upon will cure the exhaustion he suffers from abstaining and the arrangement will also allow Chiyuki to share his 1000-year lifespan. Toya refuses, because if his partner should ever despair of their unending life, he would be the one to blame—he’s watched humans he cared for die, and wouldn’t want to wish the same on his partner.
It’s an interesting dynamic, and the first chapter—which I assume constituted the original one-shot—is quite good. Unfortunately, one the story gets serialized, Hatori seems hard-pressed to come up with plots. First, she introduces Satsuki, a werewolf boy whose transformation is limited to fangs and clawed hands and feet in order to best preserve his bishounen appearance. When the story focuses on his desperate attempts to be normal, he’s a fairly compelling character, but he quickly becomes dim-witted and entirely too glomp-happy, existing only to incite Toya’s perturbation. Their incessant squabbling means that on practically every page someone’s yelling or getting kicked in the back of the head.
To demonstrate the dearth of plot ideas, in volume two the trio is suddenly lost in the Alps in Switzerland, where they stumble upon a deserted mansion. It is incredibly random, and brings home the point that while you may have two likable leads—plus a completely adorable talking bat!—you may find yourself without sufficient material to sustain a longer story.
I’m not sure how it can be salvaged at this point, honestly. I think I’d rather see Hatori embark upon something new and leave this one unfinished. When the romantic tension between Toya and Chiyuki takes center stage, the story’s potential is obvious, but the directionless plotting and constant bickering makes for a frustrating reading experience.
Millennium Snow is published in English by VIZ. The series is currently on hiatus in Japan.
Walking fish aren’t the usual sort of monsters one associates with Halloween, but their invasion makes for creepy reading nonetheless!
Tadashi and his high-maintenance girlfriend, Kaori, are vacationing in Okinawa when Kaori begins complaining of putrid smells. Soon after, a chase ensues between Tadashi and a barely glimpsed, fast-moving creature, culminating with the discovery that said critter is actually a fish with four spindly mechanical legs. This is just the tip of the fishberg, though, as Okinawa is soon overrun by walking fish, which quickly spread to mainland Japan and eventually the rest of the world.
Despite the attempts of the back cover to induce me to regard the series as “horrifying,” the primary adjective I’d use to describe it is “weird.” The scenes of walking fish—and sharks, squids, and whales—swarming down city streets are alarming but fun in a disaster movie kind of way. For most of the first volume, I actually smiled as I read. Things get more serious in the second volume, with revelations about what the creepy legs will do once they run out of fish bodies to use as fuel, but the weird only gets weirder—there’s a critter circus, for example—and the series never loses its page-turning momentum.
While I’d primarily classify Gyo as something fun that’s not too deep, it does offer some commentary on scientific ethics, particularly in the person of Tadashi’s uncle, who immediately begins trying to create a walking machine of his own. Some will be put off by the lack of a finite ending, but I find it interesting. If this were a disaster movie, we’d probably be given the opportunity to cheer on our battered heroes as they figure out the creatures’ vulnerability and blow them all to smithereens, but Gyo stops short of that point. Will mankind prevail? Will the world be overrun? We’ll never know.
Two short stories are included in volume two. “The Sad Tale of the Principal Post” is short and random, but I liked “The Enigma of Amigara Fault” a lot. In it, an earthquake has revealed a rock formation riddled with human-shaped holes that go farther back into the rock than researchers are able to measure. People have flocked to the site after seeing it on TV, somehow drawn to holes that seem to have been tailor-made for them. A young man named Owaki tries to keep his new female friend, Yoshida, from entering her hole, and suffers some vivid (and way more horrifying than the fish-monsters!) nightmares about what could happen to a person who enters. The final page suggests he was right.
In the end, I wouldn’t classify Gyo as amazing, but it—and “The Enigma of Amigara Fault”—are certainly entertaining and memorable. I may have to check out more from Junji Ito, like the spooky spiral menace of Uzumaki!
Gyo is published in English by VIZ and is complete in two volumes.
More mystery than romance, this BL series features some unremarkable “cases” but a pair of interesting leads who are already an established couple when the story begins! Shocking!
You can find my review for Manga Bookshelf here.
In the Walnut is published in English by Digital Manga Publishing. The series is still ongoing in Japan; the third volume was just released there on October 9th.
Review copies provided by the publisher.
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