Love*Com 15-16 by Aya Nakahara: B-

I used to like Love*Com very much, but as I read these two volumes the main thought going through my mind was, “Just end, already!”

End it eventually does, as volume sixteen sees the conclusion of the main story line (the seventeenth and final volume is comprised of short stories) , but before that can happen we must endure more chapters focusing on the supporting cast. First up is the transgendered Seiko, whose dreams of confessing to the boy she likes are stymied by the untimely deepening of her voice. Next, the whole gang takes a conveniently free trip to an unspecified tropical island to witness the wedding of a popular teacher, culminating in a rather immature freakout from Risa at the thought of sharing a room/bed with Ôtani.

As volume sixteen begins, the gang is planning for graduation, but instead of spending the final chapters on the main cast, some new random third-year girl is introduced for the purpose of providing a girlfriend for Kohori, Risa’s coworker who had a thing for her at one point. These chapters—in which the girl (Abe) attempts to break up Risa and Ôtani so that Risa can date Kohori and make him happy—are pretty pointless and predictable, though they do at least inspire Ôtani to dismiss the chances of them breaking up any time soon.

The final chapter of the main story, chapter 62, is nothing fantastic, but still manages to be satisfying. True to form, Risa and Ôtani are late to their graduation ceremony, and as punishment must deliver a speech that devolves into one final comedy routine. A DVD of classmate memories yields further testimonies of love from the protagonists, and everything ends on a sunny note.

I wish the volume had ended there as well, but instead there’s a bonus story about the singer/actor whose first big role was playing Ôtani in the Love*Com movie. It’s all about his struggles to achieve stardom and to get people to listen as he and his buddy play acoustic guitars out in public. It’s exceedingly boring, and memories of Negishi in Detroit Metal City performing the same sorts of gigs—with lyrics as sappy—kept intruding.

Love*Com has fallen a lot in my estimation since its early volumes, but I don’t regret persevering to the end. It should have ended sooner, definitely, and all the filler gets on my nerves, but I can’t really quibble with its warm and fuzzy finale.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

Banana Fish 2 by Akimi Yoshida: A-

From the back cover:
When Dino arranges Ash’s frame-up for the murder of a man he had motive to kill twenty times over, an “accident” behind bars is on the agenda. But in the same prison is Max Lobo, a journalist himself on the trail of the enigma code-named Banana Fish…

Review:
After reading more of Banana Fish, I wonder why I ever thought it was slow. The second volume is positively action-packed, starting with the murder of Ash’s right-hand man and leading to his imprisonment for a homicide he didn’t commit but totally would have if someone else didn’t beat him to it.

Some cops who believe in Ash’s innocence conspire to get him a protective cellmate, journalist Max Lobo, rather than a sleazy one, but this doesn’t prevent Ash from falling victim to a gang rape (thankfully off-camera). Ash and Max seem to get on well at first, but a mention of Banana Fish (whom Max reveals to be a person) leads to the revelation that Max served in Vietnam with Ash’s older brother, Griff. Rather than be heartened by this news, Ash blames Max for what happened to Griff and promises to kill him.

We learn a lot more about Ash in this volume. Much is made of his intelligence, either derisively—like when Dino and his lackeys remark that if he were really smart, he’d care about his men less—or with surprise that becomes respect, like when Max notes that Ash is not only keenly perceptive, but also reads “obscure books and alternative newspapers.” It takes a few more days of Ash’s acquaintance for Max to also realize that Ash is incredibly calculating and that, when harm seems to befall him, it just might be part of his master plan. “Unpredictable” also describes him well.

Plot-wise, Banana Fish feels a lot like a seinen series. The concept of a lone protagonist fighting against something larger than himself is certainly common to works for that demographic. This makes me wonder how exactly this series shows its shojo origins. Besides the proliferation of gay characters, who are typically of the predatory older man variety, I think the main difference is in the presentation of Ash. There are definitely moments when one thinks, “He’s so cool!”—like his chilly dismissal of Max after learning of his connection to Griff—but there are also moments when one thinks, “He’s so broken!” We don’t know a lot of what he endured at Dino’s hands as a child, but it was undoubtedly awful and has everything to do with his present-day distrust of adults and pursuit of self-reliance.

This makes it all the more remarkable, then, that he seems to form an immediate bond with Eiji. Eiji’s not seen a lot in this volume, but he’s the one to whom Ash entrusts an important errand, and his failure to complete it successfully upsets him greatly. In only a short acquaintance, Ash’s goals have become Eiji’s goals, even though they’ve never been fully explained. There’s the sense that Eiji has the potential to help heal Ash, too, but I worry he might get hurt by occupying Ash’s violent world for too long.

I was reading Matt Thorn’s interview with Moto Hagio yesterday (hosted at The Comics Journal), and they talked about the theme of synchronicity that often crops up in Hagio’s works. To quote Thorn, “Also related is the notion of synchronicity, in this case meaning a powerful resonance between two or more characters who often seem to be extremely different from one another.” I think that is exactly what’s going on here.

One Piece 16-18 by Eiichiro Oda: B+

If there remains anyone who doubts that One Piece is something special in the world of shounen manga, they need only read these three volumes to be convinced.

Volume sixteen begins with Luffy and Sanji on their way up a treacherous, snowy mountain to deliver a feverish Nami to the only doctor (Kureha) left on Drum Island. They’re waylaid by some giant killer bunnies, but an avalanche puts a stop to their conflict. I have never loved One Piece so well as in the first two chapters here, in which Luffy demonstrates his lack of antagonism towards those who’ve done him no real wrong by helping free a trapped bunny. This act earns him the respect of the pack, who then come to his aid as the evil former monarch of Drum Island attacks. Yes, I know this is probably the single most sappy moment in the history of this series, but that doesn’t change the fact that Oda executes it really, really well and that I loved it to pieces.

The whole Drum Island arc is excellent, really. We meet Chopper, a blue-nosed reindeer who ate the human-human fruit and can now perform a variety of human/reindeer transformations. He’s studying medicine under Kureha and entranced with the idea of pirates, but weighed down by a lifetime of being shunned for his oddness. His backstory is sad, as they usually are in this series, but Luffy’s unbridled acceptance (and demonstration of his own bizarre abilities) finally convinces Chopper that he has finally found the place he belongs. A good bit of fighting is involved, too, but these warm and affecting character moments are really the highlight of the series for me.

After a touching resolution, the gang is ready to set sail for Alabasta, Princess Vivi’s homeland, which is in the midst of rebellion. Awesomely, quite a few others are converging on that destination as well, and volumes seventeen and eighteen focus on introducing more of the elite agents of Baroque Works as well as explaining the organization’s hierarchy. Baroque Works is shaping up to be a wonderful enemy, with quirky characters (like Mr. 2 Bon Clay, who likes nothing so well as a good pirouette), cool resources (like transport turtles), and internal rivalries. I’m much more interested in them than the plight of Vivi’s people, actually, though I did enjoy learning more about her past.

Unfortunately, Alabasta’s desert climate brings out some of the worst in Luffy, who, despite valiantly helping some villagers and taking up Vivi’s cause as his own, is nonetheless extremely stupid when it comes to keeping a low profile or rationing supplies. Yes, I know, I should simply believe that everything will work out fine for his crew, because it always does, but I can’t help being frustrated by his occasional idiocy.

While I’ve truly enjoyed One Piece, these volumes got me excited for what’s to come in a way that’s new. In fact, I couldn’t help splurging at the library the other day and came home with a veritable armload of volumes. It really is that good. If you’re looking for a shounen series with heart, look no further.

Adolf 2: An Exile in Japan by Osamu Tezuka: A

From the back cover:
Japanese reporter Sohei Toge returns to his homeland, where he finally learns the secret that led to his brother’s brutal murder at the hands of the Gestapo. But now the Japanese secret police are on his tail, and the SS officer who tortured him in Germany has followed him to Japan to hush him up—permanently!

As fate would have it, Yukie Kaufmann, the Japanese widow of a high-ranking German Nazi, is Sohei’s only hope for survival. Meanwhile, Yukie’s son, Adolf, is being brainwashed by his teachers at an elite German school for the Hitler Youth. Why are they trying to make him hate Jews, including his best friend, Adolf Kamil!?

Review:
As the second volume of Tezuka’s masterful Adolf begins, two years have passed since the death of reporter Sohei Toge’s brother, Isao. Isao was in possession of documents that he believed would bring down Hitler, and Toge is trying to fulfill his promise to ensure that it happens.

Toge finally succeeds in locating the documents in the beginning of the volume, but his life rapidly deteriorates from there as Nazis, secret police, and foreign agents converge on him to try to claim the papers for themselves. He’s tortured, watched day and night, fired from his job, ousted from his residence, and ends up a destitute day laborer who experiences periodic visits from one especially determined investigator named Akabane.

All of this is quite riveting, but the accumulation of bad luck as hardship after hardship is heaped upon Toge makes for a painful read. When he’s mistakenly arrested for arson after losing the documents, his spirits are finally broken and he doesn’t even care if he’s charged and sent away. Of course, no rest waits for Toge, and after a brief interval in jail, he returns to a life of running, train-hopping, deserted islands, and shootouts, though with a kindly police detective on his side.

Most of this volume focuses on Toge, whose action-heavy story reads like a thriller and can be enjoyed extensively on that level. More disturbing and subtle are the glimpses we get of Adolf Kaufmann, whom we last saw as he was being unwillingly shipped off to the Adolf Hitler Schule to learn to be a good Nazi. While Adolf is doing exceptionally well academically, his tolerant attitude toward Jews doesn’t sit well with the school administrators. His top grades entitle him to receive an award from Hitler himself, and after a brief time in that charismatic man’s company, he comes out a changed boy, writing to his mother of his desire to shed blood for Germany, and beginning to parrot the rhetoric he’s read and heard about the inferiority of other races.

It was inevitable that Kaufmann’s innocence would be corrupted in this way, and there’s really nothing else he could do in such circumstances, but his transformation is, to me, a greater tragedy than the death of Isao or all of the misfortunes Toge endures. With his depiction of Kaufmann, Tezuka seems to have some sympathy for the regular citizens who were swept up in Nazi fervor, not unlike Americans who oppose the war but still support the troops who are waging it. We typically think of Nazis as the personification of evil, but the real truth is not so black-and-white.

My one regret with this volume is that it does not further the story of Adolf Kamil, the Jew living with his family in Kobe, at all. We know little of him, compared to Toge and Kaufmann, so perhaps he is not meant to be a star in his own right, but rather to represent a constant about which Kaufmann’s feelings will radically change through his experience in the Hitler Youth. The volume’s introduction does mention the racism he experiences as a non-Asian living in Japan, however, so perhaps there will be more to come later on.

I would not hesitate to call Adolf a manga classic. Like the best classics, it’s not only required reading, it’s also absorbing and unforgettable.

Cheeky Angel 11-13 by Hiroyuki Nishimori: C+


In my review of volumes 1-10 of Cheeky Angel, I wrote, “Sometimes I’m not a fan of episodic storylines, but Cheeky Angel pulls it off because Nishimori-sensei never loses sight of the most important aspect of the story: Megumi’s struggle to choose between accepting her current femininity and finding a way to return to what she once was.”

Unfortunately, this no longer holds true for this trio of volumes. Since the end of volume ten, when Megumi learned that the curse would eventually wear off and she’d revert to boyhood, the series has spent very little time occupying her head. Instead, she is seen almost exclusively from the point of view of other characters, and comes off as extremely changeable, so much so that it’s impossible to know what she’s thinking or feeling about her predicament. Without this unifying focus, Cheeky Angel becomes a string of mostly dissatisfying episodic stories.

That isn’t to say there are no cohesive elements, however. In volume eleven, the idea of a manliness contest is proposed, with Meg and her pals judging each other on how they behave in various situations. Genzo becomes obsessed with the idea of being a man and shrugging off adversity, which comes in handy when he becomes the victim of the curse that had formerly plagued Meg. His stoic acceptance of his fate earns him Meg’s admiration, and his change in attitude also helps him mature. Unfortunately, this also means we’re in for many, many scenes wherein Genzo is challenged by random thugs and must refrain from fighting back.

Many, many scenes.

Focus on the manliness competition fades in the next volume, however, when Meg’s nemesis, Keiko, proposes a womanliness contest, which Meg also agrees to enter. Here’s where some annoying glimmers of sexism arise. Initially, Meg is convinced that the womanliness contest will involve cooking, and she and Genzo agree to participate in a bento-making competition to give her some experience. When Genzo wins, he is berated by the ladies present for not allowing Meg to win. What? Girls need to be coddled so you don’t hurt our pwecious feewings?

Keiko’s got something bigger than cooking in mind, however, and in volume thirteen the idea of a treasure hunt is proposed. Meg’s devoted maid, Yoriko, wants to have some input on the rules, including an evaluation by judges on how well the candidate encourages her male partner. In her effort to convince Keiko, she says, “Drawing out the best in any man is the essence of being a woman. And hasn’t that always been the ultimate measure of womanliness?”

I averted the terrible tragedy of having flames shoot from my eyes by telling myself that perhaps Yoriko doesn’t mean this. It is later revealed, after all, that she stacked the deck in the partner-choosing lottery to ensure Meg would be paired with someone from her group of slightly loserish male friends, whom she would no doubt be called upon to encourage in the course of their adventure.

The treasure hunt starts promisingly but devolves, as all things must do with Cheeky Angel, into a conflict with random thugs. Aside from a few really nice moments—Genzo saving a chick at a summer festival and Yasuda’s clever attempt to get to the bottom of the genie’s wish-granting methods, which may prove important later—these three volumes are extremely disappointing. The series can do better than this; I hope it turns itself around soon.

Skip Beat! 20 by Yoshiki Nakamura: B

Kyoko takes a break from acting jobs in this volume to focus on throwing a fabulous non-birthday birthday party for the boss’s granddaughter, Maria, who refuses to celebrate the occasion since it’s also the date of her mother’s death, for which she feels responsible. What follows is possibly the most shojotastic volume of manga ever, filled with warm expressions, bright smiles, avalanches of flowers, swarms of shimmering butterflies, an emotional reunion between Maria and her absentee father, and a surprise celebration for Kyoko’s 17th birthday.

While I don’t like Maria enough to find the easing of her family troubles particularly moving, it’s still nice to see Kyoko at her best, giving her all for the benefit of someone else and wishing hard for their happiness. We also get a really sweet, if unfortunately curtailed, moment between Ren and Kyoko when he gives her a rose for her birthday and she goes all sparkly over it, which I suppose could be counted as progress.

In the end, this is a rather non-essential volume in Kyoko’s journey toward stardom, but it’s worth it to see how she unknowingly wins hearts just by being herself.

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

InuYasha 45 by Rumiko Takahashi: B

A running plot in InuYasha involves the fact that the villain, Naraku, can never be wholly vanquished because he has secreted his heart away and as long as it exists elsewhere, he can’t die. It’s been dozens of volumes, so my memories of his methods are hazy, but his heart has resided for some time in the body of an infant, which has constructed itself a living fortress in the form of an armored demon called Moryomaru.

The evil baby has been plotting a takeover (what fun that phrase is to write!) for a while, and volume 45 features the climactic confrontation between Moryomaru and Naraku. It’s pretty riveting, I admit, although I am unclear on exactly why Naraku does a certain thing other than that it will be convenient for our heroes down the line.

The worst part about their battle is that it reduces the main cast to spectator status for a time, watching a ball of commingled demon flesh going “sqwch sqwch” and “slthr slthr.” They do get in on the action eventually, though, and the volume ends with a portent of future doom for one of them.

In the end, a bunch of stuff happens but true resolution continues to be evasive. Par for the course for InuYasha.

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

InuYasha 42-44 by Rumiko Takahashi: B+

I had determined some time ago not to get excited about any seeming progress in this series until the last couple of volumes, but I broke my own vow with these volumes, in which our heroes get closer than ever before to defeating one of the chief obstacles standing in their way.

These three volumes focus on two things: swords and defeating Moryomaru, a creation of Naraku’s who has rebelled against his maker. The sword fixation begins in volume 42, with Sesshomaru receiving an upgrade to his blade thanks to his newly acquired ability to grieve for others and Inuyasha getting some unexpected assistance from Naraku in mastering his sword’s new power. Of course, Naraku then turns around and presents Moryomaru with a way to improve his armor, hoping to empower both of his enemies enough that they’ll finish each other off for him.

Some pretty awesome battles follow. The first occurs in volume 43, with Inuyasha making more headway than ever before in penetrating Moryomaru’s armor. It’s a gory affair, with Moryomaru attempting to assimilate the bodies of a couple of feuding demon brothers, but mighty cool, as well. After this bout, a very brief training arc ensues in which Inuyasha rather quickly acquires the ability to see demon vortices. “What’s a demon vortex?” you may ask. A detailed explanation isn’t offered, but suffice it to say it manifests as swirly energy in the air and when Inuyasha cuts it, it’s a good thing.

This prepares him for the second awesome battle, this time in volume 44. It’s very satisfying to see Inuyasha and Koga working together for a change (I love the comment from the peanut gallery: “Pretend you’re adults!”) and, again, they come verrrrrry close to defeating Moryomaru. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up because there are twelve more volumes to go, but I did, anyway.

In between these more climactic battles, the group still travels around and helps the downtrodden. Now, though, each of these episodic encounters seems to yield something that will contribute to the final battle, even if it is only a chance for our heroes to hone their new abilities. While nothing much has been developing on the personal front lately, each member of the team seems to be contributing a good deal and there have been some nice comedic moments, as well.

While these volumes don’t move the plot along monumentally, they do a good job of maintaining the tension and delivering a slightly more action-packed story than we’ve had for a while. There aren’t any resolutions, but the promise of resolution is reinforced, and that’ll have to be good enough for now.

Hikaru no Go 18 by Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata: B

After the drama of the past few volumes, “the main storyline takes a holiday” (to quote the back cover) in volume eighteen and instead we get six short stories of varying quality.

A couple of stories, like those focusing on Akira Toya and Yuki Mitani, fill in some background for scenes from earlier in the series, and one revisits what’s left of Hikaru’s old middle school go club. Two others—about Asumi Nase, an insei, and Atsushi Kurata, a relatively young pro—serve to flesh out supporting characters and are the best of the bunch.

The sixth purports to be about Sai, and it was this story I’d looked forward to the most. Alas, it’s nearly the least interesting (Mitani’s claims top honors in that category), as it boils down to another case of “corrupt merchant trying to sell antique merchandise that Sai knows is fake.” I had hoped for a story from Sai’s life or perhaps from his time with his previous host, but instead we get a rehash of something we’ve seen as recently as volume twelve.

I’d be lying if I said these stories aren’t disappointing, coming on the heels of some very important plot developments, but I gather they’re meant to function as a palliative bridge between a dramatic story arc and whatever lies ahead, so I can’t fault them too much.

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

Hikaru no Go 13-17 by Yumi Hotta and Takeshi Obata: A

These five volumes represent the emotional crux of the series and, as such, plot spoilers will be discussed. Proceed at your own risk.

I’m always sorry when I fall far behind on a series that I love, but when it results in half a dozen volumes to read at once, the pleasure of catching up makes the wait worthwhile. These five volumes are the most important and emotionally resonant of the series so far; the story could’ve ended quite satisfactorily after volume seventeen and, indeed, that’s exactly what the anime does.

We begin with the oteai, a tournament to decide players’ ranks. Hikaru is scheduled to play Akira, and is all excited about it, but the sudden collapse of Akira’s father means he misses the match and forfeits the game. After some pestering from Sai, Hikaru goes to visit Toya Meijin in the hospital and, after hearing that the Meijin has been occupying himself with internet go, sweetly arranges for Sai to get the match of his dreams via that medium. The suspense is built up expertly, causing international spazzery amongst the internet go world and attracting the attention of a lot of Japanese pros, as well.

The game between Sai and the Meijin is very beautifully drawn. There’s a lovely sequence where Sai settles onto a chair occupied by Hikaru, and for the rest of the multi-chapter match we only ever see a silent and composed Sai in that chair as they play their lengthy and suspenseful game. I’m so happy to see this longed-for moment get the attention it deserves and to see how satisfied and grateful Sai looks after his victory.

Besides Sai getting his wish, two very important things occur as a result of this match. The first is that the Meijin has been reinvigorated and begins to try daring things. He had pledged to retire if Sai beat him and, though Hikaru pleads with him not to keep his word, it’s actually quite a freeing experience for the Meijin since he’s no longer obligated to keep to a rigid tournament schedule and can now develop his game in innovative ways. The second thing is that Hikaru is able to spot where exactly the Meijin went wrong, prompting Sai to realize that his whole ghostly existence has been to get Hikaru to this point. His work on this plane is swiftly drawing to a close.

I’m really glad that I was able to experience this story arc via the anime first because the back cover and chapter titles of volume fifteen announce far in advance that Sai is really going to disappear—with the anime, I was able to hold out hope ’til the last minute. Even with my prior exposure to this event, it’s still quite dreadful to witness Sai’s jealousy of Hikaru’s future and eventual acceptance of his fate, and even worse when his pleas to Hikaru go unheeded because Hikaru simply can’t imagine that Sai really will disappear, since he’s been around for a thousand years thus far. It’s perfectly in character for a teenage boy to behave this way, so it’s not as if Hikaru’s the villain here, but knowing how much he was going to blame himself later made it much more painful.

Even while Sai’s disappearance is extremely sad, it’s Hikaru’s reaction that is far worse. He desperately looks for Sai at sites connected with Shusaku, getting his hopes up and dashed each time. He’s in denial for quite some time, but when he hits the bargaining stage, the raw grief really pours out. When he discovers records of Shusaku’s games in a remote room at the Go Association, he belatedly realizes the depth of Sai’s genius. Because Shusaku was a seasoned player when he met Sai, he knew when to bow out to a superior talent. Hikaru blames himself for developing a passion of his own and depriving Sai of opportunities to play. He promises not to play anymore if only Sai will come back.

While Hikaru proceeds to frustrate everyone by being a no-show at his matches, focus shifts to Isumi. He’s spent some time alone to recover from his failure to pass the pro test, and is now part of a group going to play goodwill games in China. With some good advice from a Chinese pro, Isumi returns a much stronger and confident player. In the anime, this arc seemed so out of place I figured it must be filler, especially given the bratty little kid who looks like Waya, but it actually goes by much more quickly in the manga and, in fact, reinforces part of what makes Hikaru no Go such a satisfying read: it doesn’t forget its supporting characters and occasionally offers a glimpse of what’s happening in their lives.

Upon Isumi’s return, he seeks out Hikaru, who hasn’t played in months, still thinking he can bring Sai back with his abstinence. Isumi succeeds in cajoling Hikaru into a game and it’s there, finally, where Hikaru finds Sai. It’s such a lovely scene, in which Hikaru breaks down at the simplicity of it all. “Sai… is it… is it all right for me to play?” he thinks, seeking his mentor’s blessing to go back to the world he loves.

Volume seventeen finds a focused Hikaru returning to his matches and showing much more maturity. The second big match-up that needed to happen comes into play here, when Hikaru and Akira face each other in the preliminaries of the Meijin tournament. The build-up is suitably suspenseful, as it should be when it’s been two years and four months since they last faced each other. The game itself is marvelous—“You will be my life-long rival,” Akira thinks at one point—but it’s much more wonderful that Akira figures it out. He realizes that Sai was within Hikaru all this time, and can tell because he knows Hikaru better than anyone. The fact that Akira finds Sai just reduces me to sniffles every time and Hikaru’s happiness about the fact is very moving as well.

The perfect capper to this volume is the dream visit Hikaru receives from Sai, and I find myself torn. Do I wish the manga had ended here, just like the anime? It really feels like a perfectly natural place to wrap things up, though the anime does add a little bit, showing Akira and Hikaru meeting regularly at a go salon to argue over strategy and affording glimpses of many minor characters in the closing credits. Or am I happy that there are six more volumes? I’m a little worried that the actual ending will be less satisfying than if the story had stopped here, but the appeal of such a large chunk of new material cannot be denied.

With these volumes, Hikaru no Go proves why it is no ordinary sports manga (and this is coming from someone who loves the genre). The games are intense and riveting, sure, but the relationship Hikaru and Sai share is the real story. Their mutual support, jealousy, and encouragement ties in with traditional themes of shounen manga, but there’s such love and warmth there, too, that the appeal is universal. This is truly a series with the potential to be loved by anyone and everyone.

Review copy for volume seventeen provided by the publisher.