Supernatural Manga

Ghost Hunt Vol. 1-2 (Shiho Inada, Nakayoshi)

This felt like an inferior shoujo version of Kindaichi Case Files or Nightmare Inspector. There’s this high school girl, Mai, who helps an attractive ghost hunter Kazuya (Naru) solve paranormal mysteries. Naru is a hybrid of the genius detective and the jerk shoujo love interest archetypes. He’d be compelling if it weren’t so obvious that readers are supposed to swoon over him and that the two leads are destined to realize their love for one another. I didn’t find waiting around for the author to drop enough clues for the mysteries to become solvable an enjoyable experience. However, there were some vague hints that this could have been a worthwhile adaptation had it fallen into different hands.

The fact that the story presents perfectly sensible scientific solutions and then quickly discards them was a fairly gutsy approach. Also unusual was Mai’s feelings of regret towards the side characters she met throughout the first volume. Usually mystery stories are all too content to toss aside minor characters once they’ve finished playing their part so it was refreshing to watch someone feel anguish as a result of that convention. Unfortunately the manga lost some credit when those same side characters became series regulars in the following volume. The second volume has a scene where a child tells Mai that she’s convinced her family is possessed (or something). It acknowledges that the ghost hunting gimmick of the series could have a negative impact on someone immature. Nothing more was done with this but I still liked it.

Lastly, Mai keeps having these dreams where Naru is all friendly with her. Although this is annoying because it pushes them together in the reader’s mind, it also emphasizes the boredom that Mai feels towards the life of ghost hunting. It seems that all she really wants is a considerate boyfriend. I have to say, I can empathize.

Loveless Vol. 2-3 (Yun Kouga, Comic Zero-Sum)

I didn’t dislike the first volume of Loveless, which I read over a year ago, but for whatever reason it didn’t provoke me to read more of it. In retrospect, the abstract battles with sadomasochistic overtones come across like an enlightened riff on the standard shounen action sequence. I feared that the most interesting part for me, the mystery behind Ritsuka’s brother’s death, would be used to keep introducing new bad guys in a monster-of-the-week fashion and while that does seem to be the case, I’m liking this series any ways.

In volume 2 Ritsuka continues to struggle with his own existence. Most recently, he and his friend have run up against an unreasonable school rule and a more unreasonable punishment. What I found remarkable was how the manga explored the alternative to Ritsuka’s emotional suffering. We’re introduced to two evil brats named Zero who attempt to rape a side character. Such blanket villains aren’t uncommon in any type of manga, or medium, but I liked how their actions were explained: they have no feelings. They feel no emotions and they have no pain receptors. As such, they exist without remorse or sympathy and live to fulfill their urges without fear of any ramifications. Ritsuka may be in constant emotional pain but his high emotional sensitivity allows him to see through injustice.

In volume 3 the zeros are defeated. To be frank, their inferiority to a normal person was never in doubt. Soubi is struck be a wave of emotions after the fight that evokes some unpredictable behavior along with a desire to not have to think. Emotions themselves seem to be a lot more complex than not. However, the mangaka’s refusal to give the zeros any merit beyond their directness and Soubi’s reaction to the confrontation is a bit problematic from my standpoint but overall I was impressed by how they were handled.

Ritsuka tries to get over his issues by adjusting to normal teenage life. There are still some things he can’t get over. His mother reminds him that he has an impossible ideal to live up to. Meanwhile the investigation into his brother’s murder has, perhaps related to his acceptance of normal life, been reduced to playing online video games. But there’s complexity to be found in playing video games as well. When the game asks Ritsuka if he’s really loveless (his entered nickname), it prompts a moment of reflection. On the other hand, when Yoko plays the same game she’s forced to admit she doesn’t like group socializing and simply stops playing. Why should she bother with something she doesn’t care for?

Autism Manga

With the Light Vol. 2 (Keiko Tobe, For Mrs.)

This is one of the most challenging volumes of manga I’ve read. Hikaru is out of control. He’s been accused of shoplifting. He’s boarded trains without paying. He’s been labeled a punk. He’s been banned from restaurants and he’s become a home invader. He’s a threat to society and some have even said he should be locked up. Oh, and did I mention that Hikaru is an 11 year old boy with autism?

In case I wasn’t clear enough, Hikaru is an outsider, incapable of conforming to society’s social standards. Even as he exposes how myopic said society really is the manga emanates an overwhelming desire for Hikaru to conform. What’s most striking about this is that there’s little intellectual argument presented to justify conforming. Rather, it’s almost entirely emotionally driven, based around making mother happy. As such it may be worth examining Sachiko’s motivation.

Sachiko’s desire stems from the fact that the community foolishly attributes her son’s misbehavior to her parenting skills. The unusual thing about this manga is how it continually tries to enforce this line of thinking even though Hikaru negates it. In this volume Sachiko begins thinking this way herself after the arrival of another autistic child, Miyu, and her less than knowledgeable mother. You see, Miyu is much worse behaved than Hikaru because her mother is ignorant of her condition and hasn’t given her proper care. By accepting that conformity is best for her son, Sachiko, along with the narrative, continue to propagate a commonly accepted but problematic ideology that still haunts her.

There’s one obvious alternative: refuse to conform. But what about those who’ve already been integrated into society? The manga presents quite the lesson in “acceptance”. Hikaru’s teacher Aoki-sensei preaches that his students need to be accepting of themselves. Forcing themselves to be someone they’re not only leads to self-hatred. Unfortunately that knife cuts both ways and assuming it doesn’t can have serious consequences. In a chilling scene, two mothers recall how the local community was bullied by parents of Special Ed children into accepting their children and treating them normally, though normally really meant specially. The terror of political correctness has been felt and is furthering the division between normal and special needs families.

This series’ elephant in the room is how heavily Sachiko and her family rely on special institutions that understand autism. In particular, the Special Education class that Hikaru attends. There’s an extended episode in this volume that acknowledges how Hikaru is pretty much at the mercy of his school. Aoki-sensei accepts his transfer and is replaced by Gunji-sensei, a bitter old teacher who is about to be spit out by the public education system. She believes the school should make children all the same and has little interest in learning about or tolerating Hikaru’s erratic behavior. As a result, she views all people as being about the same and has no strong relationships. Their dichotomy is similar to that of Hikaru and Sachiko but without the emotional component. Hikaru’s inability to submit to Gunji-sensei only serves to remind us how unwavering individualism can restore the power balance between social systems and individuals.

Video game manga?

Gestalt Vol. 1 (Yun Kouga, GFantasy)

A recent trend in movie reviewing is the use of the dismissive criticism “it’s like a video game”. Well, I’m proud to announce that Gestalt is like a video game and it’s good. Granted, my interest with it lies almost entirely with the first two-three chapters. This is almost never a good sign as it usually means the mangaka is more concerned about stretching the volume count than making a consistently good manga but I still intend to read the next volume.

Father Olivier has left his holy Order to venture to an island named G, which is said to be inhabited by a beast who grants wishes. Being a priest of some sort and having been cut from the same cloth as RPG heroes, he’s a very moral person who always wants to do what’s best for others. However, he’s immediately confronted with issues that undermine his virtuous image. The innkeeper assumes he’s still a member of the order and he doesn’t bother correcting her. When she asks him to perform a miracle (by casting a magic spell), he does so because he needs the experience (leveling up). Lastly, he can’t help but want to save a cute slave girl even though by accepting her, he’s only promoting the slave trade.

That slave girl, named Ouri, becomes the second member of the party. It’s through the use of this character that the manga admits a dark side to its video game look-alike approach. When she’s introduced, she’s almost the embodiment of male wish fulfillment: she’s a mute who communicates using signs and is more than content to be our hero’s slave. Even after she’s freed she has no qualms about selling her body for money. After all, this is just a game so what does her body matter? Olivier’s moral sense has become a lot more relevant with these developments.

The meat of the volume consists of Olivier and Ouri trying to put a stop to a crooked battle tournament. The action scenes are kind of abstract and lead to some fairly unique visuals. I especially liked the part where one bit of action is rendered as a sword, a few circles and lines, and a big “CLANG” sound effect. I say it’s much better than a barrage of speed lines. The life theme is also examined further here. The queen loves watching the tournament because the fighters perform at their best precisely because their lives are on the line. This requires that their lives still matter, which isn’t really true in the context of a game. And yet it is because this world is so much like a game that Ouri is talked out of sadistically taking anyone’s life. I mean games are just for fun. Why take it so seriously?