Some day this will be a weekly blog

Honey Hunt Vol. 2 (Miki Aihara, Cheese)

Yura is an ordinary high school girl who intends to take revenge on her famous mother by becoming an even bigger star then she is. Why does she want revenge? Eh, who cares? The point is that Yura is on her way to becoming the newest acting sensation and she’s got three gorgeous men to accompany her. There’s Keiichi, Yura’s manager, and the twins, Q-ta and Naruka. The fact that this manga is part of the reverse-harem genre is clearer than ever. The series is taking on a number of different conventions and themes at once, perhaps most importantly the mangaka’s reoccurring theme of escapism.

Yura easily overcomes the obstacle that affronted her at the end of the first volume and remarkably, she does it by completely becoming the character she’s playing. This scene demonstrates a connection between acting and escapism. But it’s important to keep in mind that the whole manga works as escapism for the reader. The reader, however, is more interested in the reverse-harem aspect of the story, not seeing Yura succeed as a career woman. To accomplish this, Yura must fail as an actress. She must remain an ordinary high school girl at all times. I feel this is the manga’s core dichotomy. Normally it’s obvious that the protagonists of harem stories will never amount to much. Here it’s more of an ugly possibility. A couple key questions remain. What does it mean to succeed as a career woman? What does it mean to remain a dull school girl?

To answer the second question, you’d have to assume Yura will remain under the care of her harem. She’s already living with her manager. It must sound like a fantasy, but somewhere along the lines, things turn sour. When Keiichi says to Yura, “It’s my job to make you popular” he’s not merely describing his occupation, he’s describing his function within the reverse-harem genre. He’s willing act in way that hurts Yura if he sees it as beneficial to her career. But is it her acting career or her career as a reverse-harem manga protagonist that he cares about? There’s a funny duality on display in this scenario. The only difference between the two careers is that one relies on skill, the other not so much…

As for the first question, it presents a whole other load of issues. The real question is how can Yura possibly succeed? A lot is said about Yura’s parents and their array of successes. You might say Yura has some very sexy genes. Indeed, even one of her harem members, Q-ta, can’t see past them. He adores her father and his music more than her. As the harem master, this frustrates her greatly. Yet Q-ta also dislikes Yura because she is bland. Somehow, his passion for music allows him to exist outside of genre conventions for the most part. The irony here is that if Yura succeeds in taking revenge on her mother by becoming a bigger actress then she’ll only succeed because of the genes she inherited from her mother. Success and genetics go hand-in-hand in manga but never before has it been so confounding.

As things are now, Yura will only be able to become a popular actress because of the gorgeous men that take interest in her.

St. Dragon Girl Vol. 1 (Natsumi Matsumoto, Ribon)

Sugar Princess: Skate to Win Vol. 1 (Hisaya Nakajo, Hana to Yume)

I’m going to do everybody a favor and say as little about these books as possible. I pretty much hated them. St. Dragon Girl can be summed up as “whatever the heroine dislikes turns out to be evil so she can rightfully dispose of it”. Sugar Princess was just stupid. In one scene the rink owner agrees that if the skating team wins a competition, he won’t close down the rink. Why the heck would winning a competition suddenly make keeping a financial lose worthwhile? It got to the point where it started to seem like the mangaka was mocking her readers. I feel sorry for the unsuspecting preteen girls who pick this up expecting a good, wholesome story about skating.

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.