Sand Chronicles Vol. 6 (Hinako Ashihara, Betsucomi)

One of the oddest things that many shoujo manga heroines share is the fact that their mother has passed away prior to the beginning of their respective series. The two most famous examples are Sakura from Card Captor Sakura and Tohru from Fruits Basket. Anyone who has read the first volume knows that it took a slightly different approach: having the heroine’s mother pass away after the series begins and forcing the reader and characters to confront it directly. Rather than using the tragic event as an easy way of gaining reader sympathy, Sand Chronicles takes a more realistic look at its impact and perhaps unsurprisingly reveals how it continues to influence Ann and the narrative several years later and she does not seem to realize it.

Volume 5 didn’t conclude in a strong way for me. It came across as being overly optimistic about moving on, leaving the past with happy memories, and being hopeful for the future in a way I couldn’t fully accept. I kind of feel bad for thinking that way after seeing how well this volume undermined that attitude. We had seen Fuji struggle needlessly over misconceptions of the past so I should have known to take that ending with a grain of salt. Ann has started dating Fuji but her new world is challenged when she hears that Daigo is seeing her former love rival. Ann’s positive attitude towards moving on has been turned against her. Daigo has also moved on and forgotten the past and as such, he’s been able to forgive someone who caused Ann a lot of suffering. Similarly, Ann’s pleasant memories of their intimacy become a trap. She can’t help but envisions the two of them together in that way. Daigo is really in the same position but he’s getting better results. I found it strangely encouraging that Daigo’s inability to move on completely was given credence when his girlfriend says that she finds it to be an appealing side of him. 

Ann’s journey to rediscover her feelings for Daigo is an interesting one. One of this series’ most distinctive aspects is the almost shameless use of visual metaphors. In this volume it’s implied that Ann’s hour glass represents her feelings for Daigo. It may represent something else or nothing at all. What’s important is that Ann thinks it represents her feelings for Daigo. When she throws it away, it’s less a metaphorical representation of her moving on but more of a reflection of her desire to move on. Ann wishes that her feelings could be commoditized and simply tossed away when they’re no longer convenient. I think there’s more to this than just adding a dark edge to the comedic shopping scenes. It’s interesting that when she has sex, she’s overwhelmed with thoughts of Daigo because sex is another commoditization of feelings. For Ann the act also represents her feelings for Daigo. However, there’s no easy way to “toss away” sex and thus she has no choice but to accept her past feelings. Whether this is for the best or not isn’t clear. It comes across as being regressive and progressive simultaneously.

Just when we think that Ann’s emotional instability is due to her inability to get over Daigo, he admits that it’s her mother that she’s trying to replace. This isn’t a new idea. I think it’s generally been the case that shoujo heroines come across as weak and/or eager to get into a relationship because of their strained or nonexistent relationship with their mother. It just hasn’t been stated as openly or explored as well before. For instance, Shika is in the opposite situation of Ann. She moves to Canada because she’s been overprotected by her mother to such an extent that she feels trapped. Also, Ann’s relationship with Daigo continues to have a positive impact. She approves her father’s decision to remarry. The woman considered Ann’s father to be her first love, who she never got over. Ann approves because she knows how precious first loves are and how difficult it is to get over them.    

Unlike the forced happy and hopeful conclusion of volume 5, volume 6 reaches a similar conclusion but in a much more natural way. As a result of Ann’s conversing with her stepmother and her grandmother, new visual metaphors begin appearing. Primarily, there’s the three way connection between city lights, stars, and people. It’s as if the visual grammar of the series is expanding, deepening, and is deriving from nature instead of products. Of particular importance is the first star of the evening. After Ann hears about its importance to her mother, it comes to represents both hope and loneliness, and signifies a duality between the two. Most importantly, it reflects the present state of her life.

We Were There Vol. 3 (Yuki Obata, Betsucomi)

On a superficial level you could say this volume has two episodes about things that aren’t uncommon to relationship manga. The first is the Christmas gift exchange between Nanami and Yano. The second is about Yano trying to get Nanami to have sex with him. I think if you really wanted, you could go into this excepting a typical cute and funny relationship manga and walk away happy but it would require some effort to ignore some aspects of it. You know the stuff that makes it terrific. What’s happening is that the mangaka is constantly challenging Nanami and the reader’s feelings towards the central relationship.  

By now there’s no question that Yano is a controlling guy. He’s trying to limit Nanami’s perspective because he wants her to be with him forever. But this consists of a wide range of things, not all of which are necessarily bad. For instance lying about his feelings to make her feel better or borrowing money to buy her a fancy gift, all to create the illusion of a superior relationship. However, it seems that he’s also limiting his own perspective. He hasn’t visited Nana’s grave and he’s refusing to let himself mourn. While her death may be the cause of his current attitude, he does have a deeper appreciation for life that helps him look past the minor, stupid fights between him and Nanami.  

Like in the second volume, the narrative isn’t entirely straightforward. Every once in a while suggestive flashbacks crop up as the seemingly typical episodes play out. What these flashbacks hint at is a slow forming bond between Yano and Nana’s younger sister Yamamoto, in the wake of Nana’s death. Meanwhile, Nanami’s biggest concern is picking out the right hat for Yano’s gift but hey, at least she picks up some good relationship advice along the way. That is until the relationship hinted at in flashbacks begins displaying itself in reality, which of course troubles Nanami. She gets the perfect chance to confront Yano when they’re together in the nurse’s room but Yano asks her to make out. Nanami has the choice of blissfully giving into the warmth of their relationship or questioning it.

Nanami initially resists being suspicious of Yano but then she investigates his past. I liked how this course of action tied into the second episode. In most mature relationship manga the lead couple usually ends up having sex after the female character gets over her uneasiness. Usually getting over that uneasiness is just something that comes with time. Here there’s a more elaborate chain of thoughts that Nanami follows that undermines her decision to investigate Yano: She finds herself surprisingly threatened by his past because she doesn’t think she can live up to Nana. Of course Yano reassures her that they should focus on the present. Unfortunately the only way to improve the present that Nanami knows of is to follow in Nana’s footsteps and agree to have sex with him.

Papillion Vol. 2-3 (Miwa Ueda, Betsufure)

This series doesn’t have the best reputation but I still like it a lot. My understanding is that people don’t like the guidance counselor, Ichijiku because he’s older than our protagonist, Ageha, which implies he has questionable motivations behind his interest in being her life coach. And also, some of the methods he employs to help her grow seem dubious. I actually agree with this but for me Ichijiku is the main the draw to this series because in theory he’s the perfect guy but not actually. However, despite his problems he still provides insight and produces results that benefit Ageha in a positive way. For instance, he explains to her why her feelings towards another guy, Ryusei, are insincere using her own self-defeatist actions. And yeah, he stages a fake event but it helps bring Ageha and her parents closer together.

As a result of Ageha’s renewed and secure relationship with her parents, she becomes confident enough to admit she no longer cares about Ryusei and for her to admit her feelings for Ichijiku, which he begrudgingly returns. Much of the rest of volume 3 charters the ups and downs that their relationship goes through as a result of Ageha’s twin sister Hana and her meddling. It’s revealing how easily Hana is able to fool and get under the skin of our leads. Their relationship really is completely superficial. Ageha spends most of her time smiling at herself and reveling in warm, fuzzy feelings of love. As soon as her comfort zone is disrupted, she starts feeling insecure, does something immature, and the cycle repeats.

The fact of the matter is that Ageha isn’t confident or mature enough to be dating a guy like Ichijiku. He’s just out of her league from an emotional growth standpoint and their intimate relationship is causing her more harm than good. It’s really a case where the relationship should have remained professional. Comically, another guidance counselor is brought into the story to help Ageha deal with her issues. He preaches about accepting oneself and others and letting love take its natural course without worrying about whether it works out or not. While Ageha does need to hear this warm message of acceptance, it’s hard to swallow because of Hana. I mean we can’t accept someone who is inexplicitly deceitful and cruel but can we accept Ageha knowing that she may be Hana in disguise?

But at the end of the day the lead couple has to resolve their differences and Ichijiku, using his attune sense of emotional understanding and ability to sweet talk, restores comfort to the relationship. While I’m sure this made casual shoujo fans swoon I’m pretty sure nothing has changed and our leads are back where they started. Ageha will continue to struggle with herself as she tries to hold onto the perfect guy. Another round of misery is around the corner and I can’t wait to see it play out.

We Were There Vol. 2 (Yuki Obata, Betsucomi)

Summer break has begun but Nanami’s days are surprisingly boring. All she does is lay around waiting for rehearsal days because on those days she gets to see Yano, or at least she assumes. It’s the slow moments like these that set this series apart from the rest, the moments in between the dramatic and romantic bits. It makes all the difference when Yano is nearby and Nanami’s inner feelings awake. True she’s conflicted by his different faces but ultimately it makes him more human and frankly, more mysterious. After they get together, Nanami becomes overwhelmed with emotions. Not just when Yano is near her but all the time. She can’t even sleep the night after he confesses. Life for Nanami is no longer dull, it is emotionally charged. Yano truly is the cure for boring summer days.

It may shock you to know that Yano has his own method of dealing with reality: sleep. We’re shown a fragmented dream sequence that reveals bits of Yano’s past like how he met and befriended Nana and some of the memorable moments they shared. Perhaps unsurprisingly, these include sexual, heroic, and even vaguely philosophical moments but there’s also the tragedy at the end of it. That is the constant reminder that these dreams are regressive because at the end of them, he is still alone. But now he has Nanami to greet him upon awakening. And hey, together they too can discuss what happiness means. Nanami even offers a new perspective: it’s something that warms your heart.

Shigurui Vol. 1-2 (Takayuki Yamaguchi, Champion Red)

I haven’t read many samurai manga but that didn’t stop me from quickly realizing that Shigurui is a very distinct entry into the genre. I’m tempted to call it realistic but not in a historically accurate way. It’s more like a realistic portrayal of super samurai that are really manga archetypes. The series is about a swordsman named Irako Seigen who enters the Kogan School of Fencing. He quickly becomes one of the school’s top pupils and one of the two candidates to marry Kogan’s daughter Mie and become the next leader. While Irako does desire this position, things are complicated by his sudden relationship with Kogan’s concubine, lady Iku.

The story and characters haven’t been what’s made this a great read for me so far. Irako and his rival Fujiki are barely distinguishable. What I really like about it are the visuals, the narrative structure, and the attention to cultural details. The customs, food, (superhuman) exercises, folklore, sexual escapades, and other everyday details are covered thoroughly. Comparably, individual characters tend to only stand out after they become disfigured or get sexually aroused, both of which are results of combat.

I actually suspect this series is really about exploring the consequences of various cultural nuances. For instance let’s consider folklore. The people of the time believe in spirits and other supernatural entities. The common villagers also believe that lady Iku is cursed and avoid her like the plague. Everyone that gets close to her “turns red”. Irako is capable of seeing through the rumors and understanding that Kogan is responsible for the murders that started the tall tales. It’s hard to describe why Irako is capable of this but I think it’s because his lifestyle is so intensely physical, driven primarily by lust, bloodlust, and power. He can’t comprehend spiritual entities being able to inflict great physical harm.

Fortunately Irako is portrayed in a complicated way. When he’s told by a fellow pupil not to pursue lady Iku any further, he suddenly imagines cutting his classmate up. After leaving the meeting, he beheads a cat to release his pent up frustration. As nasty as Irako comes across here, it’s hard not to admit he has come a long way after the narrative delves into his back story. Before becoming a samurai he lived like a violent beast. As a samurai he has become a refined swordsman with incredible technique. It’s not like the school members ever come across too well. In the scene where Mie is presented to her future husband, she’s the only one who can see that they’re the puppets of a madman.

I won’t go into how the mangaka uses another female character to briefly explore a (still bleak) alternative to Mie’s predicament but it’s definitely worth thinking about. Instead I want to talk about the structure. There are a lot of versatile thrills to be found in these volumes, between the sex and violence, and they generally aren’t undermined directly. Rather, the story unfolds in a very literary way that’s simply beyond much of the material. As I’ve suggested throughout this write up, the narrative will often drop everything and go into some aside, which wouldn’t be uncommon in a novel. In fact most of the story so far has been one flashback, but within that flashback there have been additional flashbacks. The result is the uneasy feeling that the characters are invariably drifting further back into the past.

Samurai Shodown (Yuki Miyoshi, Shonen Sunday)

You know you’ve finished reading something special when the last line is “To be continued on your NeoGeo”. Yes, this is a video game prequel manga or something though I think the business term is advertisement. Ok so obviously realism wasn’t the intent of this manga but it’s almost worth reading to just see the muscular samurai superhero portrayed in such unquestioning and heck, admiring light. Haohmaru is a dopey but enthusiastic swordsman who is always on the lookout for strong brave challengers. He teams up with princess Nakoruru to destroy the evil of the dark kingdom. Haohmaru is motivated solely by the fact that he’ll get to fight strong opponents.

The manga is largely uninteresting. There’s one scene where the good guys end up on a pirate ship but nothing happens, they just team up and go after the bad guys. When a story presents a chance to have samurai and pirates do battle, they should. There’s one unpleasant subplot about a woman who becomes a ninja and subsequently a tool of darkness. It all could have been avoided if she had followed her father’s dream of becoming a free woman like a blooming flower. Yeah I’m not going to touch on that any further. The best moments are when characters surpass their set types, like when some of the bad guys turn out to be nicer than expected.

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.

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?

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.

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?

Note: This post is not intended to be a parody of a famous review of another vampire manga or an indirect response to a recently posted group conversation.

The Record of a Fallen Vampire Vol. 1-2 (Yuri Kimura, Shonen Gangan)

Despite being serialized in Gangan, this struck me as being something straight out of Square-Enix’s GFantasy magazine. In fact, I’d bet this was placed in Gangan as a sort of promotional effort for GFantasy. Nobody seems to be sure who that magazine is aimed at but after reading some of this series the answer is clear: females, or more specifically, feminine people. GFantasy seems like an effort to create a new shoujo (or shounen, technically) subgenre that consists of straight shounen manga for female shounen manga fans, distinct from the already existing fantasy/action/adventure shoujo subgenres. As for what led me to that conclusion, well this is a vampire story and we all know what demographic is big into those.

Now there are some superficial similarities to normal shounen manga, like the frequent action scenes, but there are more differences and all of them strongly suggest a more feminine audience is the target. First and foremost, the cast has its share of strong female characters with the obvious exception of the protagonist, Akabara Strauss, our fallen vampire king who is trying to break the seal binding his queen. Unfortunately for him, there are a lot of indistinguishable seals in place. There’s some hinting that this could have been a harem manga, what with how all of the females have an emotional tie to our hero, but my guess is that the purpose is to emphasize how this is not a harem manga.

Oddly enough the only other major male character so far, named Renka, has a back story that’s surprisingly similar to Strass. He too is struggling to get over his lost girlfriend, of which Strauss killed. This gives the two men an inherent connection that can probably be utilized for doujinshi fodder. More importantly, the fact that both men have had previous girlfriends informs the reader that these guys are not awkward geeks but are perfectly capable of forming relationships with girls despite their dark backgrounds.

For those of you who are still doubt about the intended audience of this manga, I offer one more observation. It’s reasonable common for shounen manga to feature very young children, if not as outright members of the hero’s party then as side observers who learn valuable life lessons. This manga’s take on the character is a Dhampire (half human half vampire) named Laeti. She’s a spunky young girl who can really aim a sniper rifle. Despite the presence of such characters, most shounen manga never lose their manliness appeal. However, here I felt Laeti’s childlike enthusiasm and appearance was deliberately used (exploited) to lighten things up, as if to assure the reader that things won’t ever get too dark or crazy.

All of this aside, I can still see more traditional shounen manga fans getting into this. The characters are fleshed out decently well and there’s no suggestion that the narrative will slide into a painful, tedious episodic structure despite the possibility of endless seal breaking quests. Select chapters also contain compelling framing and intriguing angles.

…Isn’t this manga supposed to be about breaking out of stereotypical expectations or something?

Golgo 13 Vol. 1 (Takao Saito, Big Comic)

This volume was awesome but I’m hesitant to admit it since I still don’t know how I feel about the titular story, “Supergun”. I figure I either don’t get or don’t like the surface story but that’s fine because what I mainly enjoyed was following the visuals. The plot entails Duke (Golgo 13) going into Iraq to foil Saddam Hussein’s scheme to construct and utilize a super gun in order to blow up the Whitehouse. However, the principle villain is the Japanese ballistic expert by the name of Izumi Murai who sold the gun’s designs to Iraq and considers the project to be his dream.

I detected three relatively distinct color palettes being used applied throughout the story. The first is a typical realistic palette that uses a wide variety of grays. It’s featured on drawings of the Earth (viewed from space), the desert, water surfaces, ect. Its purpose is just as you’d think, to give the drawings a natural appearance. Conversely there’s the palette that consists of a limited number of solid tones that are typically used on machinery. This texture gives off a cold, unnatural feeling. The best example of these two styles being contrasted is the shot of missiles flying towards Baghdad. Lastly, there’s the style that’s associated with Duke, which consist of solid black and white shades but used in a very loose, even scratchy, way. According to editor Takashi Fukuda Duke can be thought of as a chemist who reduces complexity to simplicity. This idea is expressed surprisingly literally through the shifting color patterns.

The unusual thing about this story is that the super gun isn’t colored with any one of the above color palettes. The gun represents an additional layer of complexity that combines the personal and the impersonal which is fitting since it is Murai’s dream but it’s hardly a form of natural artistic expression. Colors are one thing but what do these vague concepts represent in terms of something tangible? I think it comes down to understanding Duke. My current take is as follows: He exists on his own moral plane that is both naturalistic and simplistic, reflected through the manga’s (expected) display of rampant masculinity. He overturns both the inherent complexity of the world and the man made systems that attempt to control it in one fell swoop.

The second story, “Hit and Run”, should be of interest to anyone who enjoyed my take on The Drifting Classroom from a few weeks back. It’s about a private eye whose girlfriend is killed in a hit and run accident. I’d say the real story is about the man responsible. After hearing that Golgo 13 has been hired to kill him, he goes from crime boss to model citizen almost overnight. His transformation is characteristically defined by his lose of sexual appetite, his doomed crime enterprise, and his newfound love for police cooperation and the safe prison life. It’s the anti-thesis to the hero inspires good behavior plot point that generally plague manga.

Gambling Emperor Zero Vol. 1-8 (Nobuyuki Fukumoto, Weekly Shonen Magazine)

Young genius Zero and his three accomplices have been coerced into entering a bizarre competition where the winner will be awarded one trillion yen and be selected as the representative for the competition organizer head, a ruthless old man named Zaizen, in a tournament involving the world’s richest members that will determine who will be king of the world. This is really another entry in the shounen tournament genre but it’s based around puzzles (or gambles/games) instead of say, fighting or sports. The mangaka, who I’m unfamiliar with, is best known for his gambling seinen manga. What must be nice about writing a shounen manga is that it opens the doors for some very unique and fantastic puzzles.

The main point of interest for me is how the mangaka uses shounen manga clichés to explore elitism. This is a very natural, even inherent, theme for a puzzle manga where the hero surpasses obstacles using logic and mathematics instead of strength or athleticism.

In shounen manga it’s common for the reader to peak in on the villains as they revel in the impending doom that the hero faces so we can laugh at them when the hero proves them wrong. While this happens a lot in this series, there are some important differences. The elitism of this series is at its nastiest when the villains are correct in their low assumptions of not Zero, but Zero’s teammates. They’re really just expressing what the reader is probably thinking. After Zero uses the ego of his enemies against themselves, his own sense of elitism promotes false feelings of confidence in his ability to control his destiny. The reality is that the organizers are always aware of what Zero is up to and even bend the rules in his favor after they take a liking to him.

This leads me to two other relevant and related concepts: Teamwork and individualism. Another shounen manga cliché is to have side characters do or propose something incorrect so the hero can look all the better when he does what’s correct. The previous paragraph already suggests the dark side of this cliché. The side characters here are Zero’s teammates and all they do is hold him back. Any notions of teamwork are superficial at best. I emphasize, it is all Zero. What I liked about this was the added bit of emotional complexity. Zero develops a fear of holding responsibility for his teammates’ wellbeing.

This leads into a storyline where Zero’s teammates convince him they’ll take responsibility for themselves. They’re all placed in a quiz show game where the team suffers or benefits as a result of individual performance. Suddenly Zero is in big trouble. Instead of giving the teammates their moment to shine and save the day, Zero takes responsibility of his life into his own hands by purposely undercutting his teammates’ responsibility, limiting their impact. I guess we’ll never know if they had what it took to help win.

In closing, I just want to mention the cliffhanger that these volumes end on. It’s one of the most shocking and twisted things I’ve ever seen in a shounen manga. However, for those of you who hate the rampant elitism on display here, there’s a pleasant surprise for you. There’s a tournament round where the victors are determined entirely on the basis of luck…