If you’ve been a faithful Manga Recon reader, you may be wondering why we haven’t updated the blog recently. That’s because our webmaster Jon Haehnle just finished building us our very own homepage within the PopCultureShock site. You’ll now find us at this address:

http://www.popcultureshock.com/manga/

As you’ll see, the site got more than just a facelift. Jon improved the navigation by making content readily available through the front page, providing handy links to recurring features as Manga Recon @ the Movies, On the Shojo Beat, The Otaku Bookshelf, and Your Definitive Guide to… We’ve also improved the category and tag functions; it’s now possible to browse the site by publisher, manga-ka, and review type. And for folks with a serious weekly manga habit, we’ve introduced a new poll that lists the week’s upcoming releases and encourages you to tell the world what you’re planning to buy. (List updated every Friday, courtesy of our friends at Midtown Comics.)

If you subscribe to our feed, you’ll want to update your aggregator with the following address:

http://www.popcultureshock.com/manga/index.php/feed/

This is an exclusive feed for manga content–no tights and capes stuff to crowd out your Naruto newsblasts.

We hope you’ll explore the new site, and look forward to hearing your comments. Jon has provided a space on the front page where you can record your thoughts. N.B. This blog will no be updated after today, so please make note of our new address!

Thank you for reading Manga Recon!

Katherine Dacey, Senior Manga Editor
Chloe Ferguson, Contributor
Erin Finnegan, Contributor
Phil Guie, Contributor
Isaac Hale, Contributor
Ken Haley, Contributor
Sam Kusek, Contributor
Michelle Smith, Contributor

S.A., Vols. 2-6

By Maki Minami
Published by Viz
Rating: 13+

I had a very vitriolic reaction to Special A. I feel more strongly about the title than Katherine did in her review of volume one.

Hikari’s life-long rival is Kei, who has driven the working-class Hikari to attend a school for the super-rich (sort of like Boys Before Flowers, but unfortunately lacking in class conflict). The school is ruled by an elite group of the top seven ranking students whom everyone admires (sort of like Kare Kano). The “Special A” as it is called, does not attend class, and spends their time drinking tea in a fabulous greenhouse on the school grounds (kind of like Ouran High School Host Club).

I have two major problems with this series:

Problem #1 Too many characters are introduced too quickly. All seven Special A students are introduced in an illustrated dramatis persona two page spread in the front of each book starting with volume three. Some of the details listed are hilariously irrelevant; Tadashi has “wanderlust” and Ryuu is the son of the owner of a sporting goods store, but as of volume four these details do not impact the story. With such a large cast, it’s hard to tell characters apart (some of the boys have nearly identical metrosexual hair), but instead of developing characters one at a time, Minami introduces additional characters; Kei has a random cousin who is in love with him (apparently a common problem in manga-Japan), Kei’s little brother is a pest, troublemakers Yahiro and Sakura become regulars, until finally in volume three we start getting some backstory for Tadashi (ranked 5th, the school director’s son). With so many major characters, I don’t see a need to introduce external conflict until we understand the relationship between all seven regulars.

Problem #2 I think we the readers are supposed to be laughing at Hikari’s “hilarious” efforts to defeat Kei at something, anything, but I sympathize so much with Hikari that I just can’t laugh at her. I desperately want Hikari to win. I’m fairly certain that the author presumes you the reader will concede that Kei is Hikari’s athletic and intellectual superior and Hikari is a fool to try and compete with a boy, but isn’t that misogynist?

It gets worse – as the price for losing one contest, Kei decrees that Hikari make him an onigiri (rice ball) to fulfill his desire to eat homemade food prepared with love, something he is too rich to have experienced firsthand in his life so far. Hikari’s training as a wrestling fanatic (see volume one) has left her with super-strength but no cooking ability. She tries her best to make onigiri for Kei, but she’s so strong that when washing the rice she grinds it into powder. Let me get this straight: Hikari is not very feminine because she can’t cook. Kei wants to eat an onigiri made by her because he loves her, but also so she can fulfill the role of his mother. GROSS!

Hikari is clueless about how Kei feels about her, no matter if Yahiro tells her Kei loves her and regardless of how many times Kei kisses her. Her cluelessness is supposed to be funny, but because Hikari is ranked second in her class I just can’t buy that she’s also some kind of an idiot. Maybe I’m taking this way too personally since I was salutatorian of my high school class. My friends in those days called me “smart but oblivious”.

I want S.A. to be better. I want it to tackle class issues and discuss talent versus hard work. I want the Special A characters besides Hikari to attend class or at least study. For example, I have a hard time buying that being the son of the president of a sporting goods store makes you a math genius by default. In volume six we learn more about Kei’s photographic memory, which gives him a severe advantage in life but also makes him isolated from his peers. I want to cheer for Hikari like I cheer for Rock Lee in Naruto – Rock Lee has no chakra, Hikari does not have a photographic memory.

In volume five the Akira (daughter of an airline president) flies Hikari to London to stop Kei from transferring schools. Heretofore, the rich S.A. members have used their wealth for extravagant vacations and school festivals, but not to service the plot. In the same chapter, Hikari uses her superior athletic ability to jump the fence of Kei’s family mansion and outrun the security guards. Meanwhile Ryu, who loves animals, tempts away the guard dogs. I suddenly wished every chapter of S.A. was more like Richie Rich, (or how I imagine Richie Rich to be without actually reading it).

I want the art to be better. Minami often draws outline-y stick figure-y things for non-important characters. Katherine praised the background detail and character designs, and mentioned that the characters are recognizable in chibi form, but I disagree. I had a hard time separating Yahiro from Kei in several volumes. Yahiro is particularly hard to identify in volume five, where he has stopped acting evil (his characteristic trait is suddenly dropped).

I recently revisited Ouran High School Host Club for Otaku USA, and as I re-read volume one I realized that in Ouran the jokes are actually funny and each page – each panel is crammed with antics and busy with screentone. S.A. introduces backgrounds and establishes setting better than something like Wild Ones, but then it relies on screentone to fill gaps. S.A.’s jokes aren’t that funny either. Hikari wears a rabbit costume for large sections of volume five and it’s just not funny.

I actually hate S.A. and I’m not sure why I keep reading it. Is it because I said I would review volume four and went back and bought volumes two and three? Maybe it’s because I didn’t get it reviewed in time and two more volumes came out so I thought I would read them to be current. Or maybe there are other, darker reasons:

Possible Reasons why Erin Keeps Buying/Reading S.A.:

1. Hoping to sell it on ebay as a complete set as if it’s an “investment” (The series in Japan is up to volume 13 and may be ongoing.)
2. Secretly hoping it will get better
3. Interested in seeing the surprising new ways Minami can offend me with misogyny
4. Building up a case against it so I can deprogram any S.A. fans, should I ever meet one
5. Hoping Hikari will eventually beat Kei

In the depth of my bizarre S.A. madness I watched five episodes of the anime series, which is currently airing in Japan. The anime is uninspired and modestly budgetted. It’s easier to tell the characters apart and some of the jokes are funnier. It is doggedly loyal to the manga, which is at best mediocre.

Here’s a very brief summary of events for each volume of the manga from two on:

Vol. 2 – Student council problem, wrestling, Hikari makes lunch, two school festivals, Hikari plays some sports, is invited to Yahiro’s party

Vol. 3 – A big foot race, a trip to Hawaii over summer vacation, Kei has a date with Tadashi (Tadashi’s backstory)

Vol.4 – Kei gets sick and Hikari nurses him, the S.A. goes to a regular school, Akria’s backstory, Kei has an omiai with Sakura

Vol. 5 – On a BBQ trip Sakura likes Jun and unleashes his other self (Jun’s backstory), Hikai cross-dresses in an attempt to ruin Kei’s omiai, Hikari wears a rabbit costume for a tour of another school, the S.A. go to London to stop Kei from transferring, the S.A. act as a host club at a cultural festival

Vol. 6 – Ogata tries to seduce Hikari away from Kei so he’ll transfer schools, Hikari makes Kei and Ogata dinner, Kei and Hikari skip school to go on a date to an amusement park, Hikari realizes she loves Kei but overhears “Whoever falls [in love] first loses”, Hikari is ranked 13th after midterms, Hikari and Kei are put in charge of rival teams on for the sports festival

By volume four the rivalry has fallen to the wayside in favor of the love story. I can’t tell you how angry it makes me that Hikari drops to 13th in her class as soon as she figures out she loves Kei (and by “figures out” I mean, “Kei points it out to her”). In Kare Kano Yukino and Soichiro’s class rankings both drop when they start dating (Yukino’s drops more because she’s the girl I guess) but in S.A. Kei stays at number one.

S.A. feels like a direct rip off of Ouran and Kare Kano, but with the good parts painfully removed.

Volumes 1-6 of S.A. are available now.

S. S. Astro, Vol. 1

By Negi Banno
Yen Press, 128 pp.
Rating: Older Teen

The fact that I am not the intended audience for this title was made readily apparent when the eight-page color illustration collection in the front of the book contained not only a hot springs scene (complete with buoyant bosoms), but also an image of a character looking shocked to be discovered in the act of clutching a skimpy towel around her nude and glistening body while fellating a melting popsicle (as you do).

There’s not as much concentrated fanservice in the manga itself, at least. It’s the story of long-time friends Izumi Maki and Nagumo Yuko who return to their former high school as Physical Education and Japanese teachers, respectively. There, they meet and befriend fellow teachers Arai and Karasuma. The back cover promises “hilariously juvenile” behavior from this quartet, and while the content certainly delivers on the latter part of the bargain, there isn’t much hilarity in evidence.

The Astro in the title stands for Asashio Sogo Teachers ROom, but the characters hardly spend any time there at all. Much of the action takes place outside of school, like going out drinking or viewing cherry blossoms. Events occurring at school are usually outside the classroom, which is a shame, since my favorite bits are those where they were actually doing their jobs, administering tests and devising trick questions with which to trip up the students.

Because S. S. Astro is a four-panel manga that takes place in a school setting, it’s inevitable that it will get compared to Azumanga Daioh, and there are indeed some similarities. Each of the characters has one single trait that becomes the punchline for most strips featuring them (chronic sleepiness, a voracious appetite, predatory lesbianism). Female characters dominate and most of the adult males who appear are cretins. Both series also have a surfeit of annoying characters, but with S. S. Astro it’s more a case of characters who can be interesting one moment and irritating the next.

The art isn’t bad, though often these twenty-something women appear far younger. Maki, in particular, has a tendency to look twelve. Questionable content aside, the best art is to be found in the color illustrations, especially the character portraits in the very front that resemble ID badges. Care has clearly been taken with the translation, including signs and sound effects, and very informative translation notes have been included. The overall feel of the book is quite nice, with a slimmer width and slightly larger trim size than usual to set it apart from the crowd.

Lastly, a brief preview for Suzunari is included in the back of the book; Yen Press would like you to know that it also features boobs.

Volume one of S. S. Astro is available now.

In this week’s column, Ken Haley, Michelle Smith, and I shift the focus from shojo to shonen, with reviews of Aspirin (Tokyopop), a Korean comedy documenting the misadventures of a bumbling teen and a chain-smoking demon hunter; Togari (Viz), a supernatural thriller about a killer trying to redeem his soul; and two anime-cum-manga, Samurai Champloo: The Complete Edition (Tokyopop) and Sola (Broccoli Books). Shojo fans need not worry—we’ve also included a brief review of Very! Very! Sweet, a new romantic comedy from Yen Press.

Aspirin, Vol. 1

By Eun-Jeong Kim
Tokyopop, 200 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16+)

Naming a manhwa Aspirin is a bit like naming a movie D.O.A.: if it’s good, no one will think twice about the title; if it’s bad, all but the most restrained critics will have a field day riffing on the title. Alas, Aspirin falls into the latter category owing to a headache-inducing combination of stale jokes, ugly artwork, and confusing storylines.

The set-up is pure shonen. Ondar, a not-so-bright young man, finds himself on a quest to round up the four “Direction Gods,” a quartet of powerful demons accidentally released from captivity by the bumbling King Dan-Goon. Should he accomplish his mission, Ondar will marry the king’s daughter; if he fails, he’ll be permanently exiled from the kingdom. Helping Ondar on his quest is the foul-mouthed, foul-tempered Haemosoo, a demon hunter and inveterate womanizer whose romantic conquests cause almost as many complications for the pair as the Direction Gods themselves. As one might infer from my summary, Ondar and Haemosoo’s mission is really just a pretext for extended fight scenes and wacky hijinks. Reading many of the chapters, it’s easy to forget who, exactly, the pair are supposed to be hunting, as they engage in hand-to-hand combat with a wizard named David Cupperfield, a pistol-packing nun, and a pair of high-kicking twins who appear to have escaped from Street Fighter Alpha. The artwork does little to clarify the story; too many pages are marred by clashing patterns, heavy speed lines, and grotesque close-ups of shouting characters. By the end of volume one, I found myself reaching for something stronger than aspirin to purge the memory of this unfunny train wreck.

–Reviewed by Katherine Dacey

Samurai Champloo: The Complete Series

Created by manglobe, Written and Illustrated by Masaru Gotsubo
Tokyopop, 352 pp.
Rating: Teen (13 +)

Samurai Champloo: The Complete Seriescollects volumes one and two of the Samurai Champloo manga, a series of short stories involving the trio of Jin, Mugen and Fuu that otaku know and love from the anime series of the same name. The manga contains a short remake of the first episode, showing how the three characters fall in together and the beginning of their search for Fuu’s mysterious “Sunflower Samurai,” but aside from that, it contains new and original tales set during their journey.

It’s an OK read. None of the stories are particularly amazing, though a few are interesting enough to make me wish that they had been turned into episodes, particularly a two-parter involving a Russian otaku. Most of the stories split the group up, focusing on one or two of the trio, while others seemingly focus on new original characters with the trio stumbling into their stories. The art is nice and loose, managing to convey a nice sense of movements and action while resembling the anime’s style (without being beholden to it). In addition to the stories there’s also some nifty extras tossed in: two short letters from the Tokyopop editor for the series, a sketchbook section, and a bonus volume involving zombies.

The bottom line: fans jonesing for more of Fuu, Mugen and Jin might want to give Samurai Champloo a look, but don’t expect new revelations or character development.

–Reviewed by Ken Haley

Sola, Vol. 1

Art by Chaco Abeno, Story by Naoki Hisaya, Character Designs by Naru Nanao
Broccoli Books, 216 pp.
Rating: Teen (13+)

There’s an unspoken understanding among otaku that manga adaptations of popular anime leave something to be desired: think of the Cowboy Bebop or Wolf’s Rain manga, both of which are pallid imitations of the originals. I haven’t seen the thirteen-episode anime on which Sola is based, though I’m guessing it’s a more satisfying experience than reading its poorly paced adaptation. The manga unfolds in a herky-jerky fashion, with tedious slice-of-life scenes punctuated by occasional fights and off-putting panels of fanservice featuring girls in towels, ridiculously short skirts, and thigh-high patent leather boots. (Because when you’re facing an unspeakable evil, nothing says “ready for combat” like fierce footwear and a garter belt.) The action scenes are surprisingly static; characters spend more time striking dramatic or provocative poses than they do inflicting damage on one another.

About the best I can say for Sola is that Broccoli Books has done a first-rate job with the packaging, offering fans the kind of bells and whistles that are all too scarce on this side of the Pacific: gorgeous full-color plates, high quality paper stock, and a generous assortment of bonus features that includes translator’s notes, gag manga, character sketches, and a detailed synopsis of the anime. The translation isn’t too bad, though the text includes a few typos and unintentional howlers. (One character describes her first shopping trip as a “revolution,” a sentiment that would strike most Marxists as terribly bourgeois.) The bottom line: anime buffs and moe enthusiasts may want to add Sola to their collection, but most manga readers won’t find much to love except the cover art.

–Reviewed by Katherine Dacey

Togari, Vol. 6

By Yoshinori Natsume
Viz, 200 pp.
Rating: T + (Older Teens)

Returned to earth after spending centuries in hell as punishment for his evil ways, Tobei is now tasked with hunting down and returning 108 sins that have escaped Hell. Armed with the mystic sword Togari he must face the challenges of the 21st first century while tracking down these supernatural entities. But is this job an offer or redemption, or another form of punishment?

Togari is a fairly straightforward action series: kid on a quest who slowly begins to discover things about himself. In this volume, we see him beginning to notice some internal changes in the way he relates to people and the world. Where once he was an angry monster of a boy, he’s now beginning to connect and relate to others. Of course the catch is, the nicer and less hateful he becomes, the less powerful Togari seems to be. Manga-ka Yoshinori Natsumue’s artwork is actually really lovely. (DC junkies may recognize his name as the creator of CMX’s Batman: Death Mask.) There’s a nice angular feel to it at times, and he mixes cross-hatching and toning for shading to wonderful effect. The action sequences can be a bit iffy at times, but I get the feeling that comes more from the nature of the fights in this volume (creatures made out of water and smoke) than the art itself.

–Reviewed by Ken Haley

Very! Very! Sweet, Vol. 1

By JiSang Shin and Geo
Yen Press, 176 pp.
Rating: Teen

If you had stripped this book of all identifying marks and given it to me to read, I never would’ve guessed it was from the same creative team behind Rolling, which I reviewed in last week’s Manga Minis column. It’s got solid characterization for one thing, and a plot that looks like it’ll actually go somewhere!

Both of the main characters are likable in their own way. Be-Ri is an animal-lover who’s raising money to protect some land from development. She’s obsessively frugal and has the awesome hobby of collecting junk to refurbish and sell online. Tsuyoshi is a coddled rich boy who has been sent to Korea by his grandfather as a way to curb his misbehavior. He comes across as bratty, but isn’t really all that bad. Any teen who is willing to heed the earnest advice of his mother earns points in my book.

Although Be-Ri and Tsuyoshi get off on the wrong foot, the potential for each to positively impact the other’s life is easy to spot. A couple other things I like about the story are the deftly handled love polygon forming between several of the characters and the way Tsuyoshi’s partial grasp of Korean is portrayed. His dialogue makes sense, but is imperfect, resulting in sentences like, “I also discomfort.”

To be sure, there are some rough spots, but the charm of the series remains intact despite the clunky expository dialogue and irrational grandpas. I look forward to seeing how the story will unfold.

–Reviewed by Michelle Smith

Knights, Vol. 1

By Minoru Murao
Published by DMP
Rating: Young Adults (16+)

The less attached to Christianity you are, the more you might enjoy Knights, which takes place during a time period no organized religion would be proud to claim: the age of mass purging known as “witch hunt hysteria.”

As innocent people are subjected to sham trials, sentenced to death, and burned alive, hope comes to the fictional kingdom of Excludo in the form of Mist, a squire willing to defy the knights’ oath to serve the church. In fact, Mist takes his fight against the witch hunts very seriously, having known the downside of religious intolerance all his life. Although skilled enough to be a knight, he has always been treated as an outsider due to his dark skin, and is reasonably surprised when Nina, a daughter of nobility whom he saves from the witches’ pyre in the series’ first adventure, takes a fancy to him.

Knights, however, is more interested in smiting those who would use the public’s fear of witchcraft to acquire wealth and power than in romance. Too bad the adventures themselves are mediocre at best: writer/artist Minoru Murao has trouble settling on a consistent tone, there are logic gaps, and the villains – who are, of course, all Christians – are too over-the-top evil to be interesting.

Throughout volume one, the heroes run afoul of vile priests, as well as a self-righteous saint with lethal hair, who kills a woman for doubting her own impurity – even though the method by which she had been judged was clearly inaccurate. That scene was a bit much, and I had a similar to reaction to all of Murao’s men and women of the cloth and/or cross. They’re not just misguided, but depicted as masochistic; not just evil, but gleefully, sneeringly so. Unfortunately, by making these characters into one-dimensional caricatures, lengthy fight scenes involving them become downright torturous to read.

Meanwhile, there are occasional story glitches that can leave readers scratching their heads: in one chapter, Mist approaches a tower where Nina is being held prisoner inside; the only windows are about three stories high, and, as another knight tells him, the doors are locked from inside. Mist does eventually get in by leaping through one of the aforementioned windows, but how he managed this miraculous feat is never explained.

On the plus side, the art is suitably flashy whenever the broadswords get broken out, and at one point, Murao does an effective job cutting back-and-forth between Mist and his partner Euphemia, who are each battling magically-powered creatures. Yet I will be eternally curious why a character like Euphemia – a scantily-dressed “witch” who releases aphrodisiacs into the air, then has sex with everyone – had to be included at all. Not only does her costume, which is essentially a cape and some pasties, contrast drastically with the seemingly-authentic-looking medieval garb around her, her motif of spontaneous orgies feels downright silly next to Knights’ otherwise dead-serious tone. Perhaps the creator is hoping it has a be-witching effect on male teenage audiences.

Volume one of Knights is available now.

This month, Chloe Ferguson, Ken Haley, and I take at look at three books of potential interest to manga maniacs: Dark Wars: The Tale of Meiji Dracula (Del Rey), a light novel that transplants the world’s most famous vampire from Transylvania to nineteenth-century Japan; the first volume of Kino no Tabi (Tokyopop), a light novel with a popular anime tie-in; and Translucent Tree (Vertical, Inc.), a steamy May-December romance between a divorcee and a filmmaker.

Dark Wars: The Tale of Meiji Dracula

Written by Hideyuki Kikuchi, Art By Katsuya Terada, Translated by Mini Eda
Published by Del Rey, 272 pp.

From the creator of Vampire Hunter D comes a tale of Dracula… well, in Japan. It’s kind of like Snakes on a Plane: what do you say in the introduction that “Dracula in Japan” doesn’t say?

So yes, Dracula comes to Japan, though exactly what brings Dracula to Japan is a large part of the story that I won’t spoil here. Suffice to say that Hideyuki Kikuchi did all sorts gymnastics with the plot to give him a reason for coming. (Several reasons, actually.) But how did he survive the end of Bram Stokers’ original novel? That’s actually never addressed here. Despite the fact that it seems loosely based off the novel, or possibly the Hammer Studios movie adaptation, there’s no explanation as to why Dracula is still alive. Not only that, but his reasoning for being in Japan is sketchy at best, even for a supernatural horror series.

With Dracula away from the familiar confines of Europe, Kikuchi provides him with a new protagonist to face off against: Minazuki Daigo, a talented swordsmen in a time when the way of the sword is changing. With the Meiji Era in full swing, sword schools are becoming less about actual fighting and more about form and ritual. Teachers have exchanged the wooden swords of old for bamboo sticks and padding. Daigo’s an anachronism in this world; he sticks to the older ways, despite his young age. The man out-of-time element, along with his adherence to a “purer” way of the sword, makes him a bit of romantic figure for supporting player Saigo Shiro, a young judo student who befriends Daigo. His teacher Kano Jigoro, the creator of judo, also makes several appearances and figures heavily into the story as well.

The man out-of-time element serves to contrast and connect Daigo with Dracula, who is portrayed here more as a noble but fallen warrior rather than a straightforward villain. As for Dracula himself, Kikuchi’s take leans more toward an honorable, though evil and twisted, warrior. He provides a dark mirror for Daigo and his own warrior spirit, which is wasted and useless in the new era. Both are men out of step with the Meiji spirit, better suited for the older eras of swords and war.

Of course, it wouldn’t be a light novel without some illustrations, and this time around Katsuya Terada lends his talents. It’s the first time I’ve seen any of his work, but I really liked it. His art is nothing like Kikuchi’s most well known collaborator, Yoshitaki Amano, but that’s not a bad thing. His style is sketchy and loose. The illustrations have a rough, gritty feel to them that does a fantastic job at conveying mood and action within the pictures. There are even a few instances of toning being used to a nice effect as well. Terada’s art fits the story perfectly and his illustrations lovely to look at. I’m hoping that someone decides to bring over an art book of his work or other novels he’s illustrated because it’s really good stuff.

Speaking of firsts, this is also the first time I’ve read a Kikuchi book that wasn’t translated by Kevin Leahy. This makes for an odd review, as I’m not sure whether the quirks inherent in this book are a result of Kikuchi adopting a different style or simply a case of Mini Eda handling the translation differently from Leahy. At any rate, Kikuchi’s style here is lighter and less purple than his Vampire Hunter D writing’s. Fans of Kikuchi’s Vampire Hunter D works, or hardcore Dracula fans in general would probably enjoy it, thought maybe not be blown away by it. The whole book is a fun and easy read, nice eye catching illustrations, and some interesting appearances from historical personages.

–Reviewed by Ken Haley

Kino no Tabi, Vol. 1

By Keiichi Sigsawa; Translated by Andrew Cunningham
Tokyopop, 205 pp.

“The world is not beautiful, therefore it is.” So begins the vivid, surrealistic tale of a girl, her talking motorcycle, and the dead traveler whose name she takes and journey she continues. Kino no Tabi, a.k.a. Kino’s Journey, does not function as a linear narrative with introduction, conflict and denouement; instead, the book reads more like a collection of short stories within the greater setup of Kino’s travels. Unconstrained by the traditional moors of background and setting, the narrative is free to wander much like Kino, content to conjure new strange lands and marvel at the follies of human nature in the process.

And it works, rather spectacularly—the novel feels like a surreal metaphor, or perhaps a dreamy bit of plot-driven philosophy helmed by a teenage girl with a bike. Kino’s world is that of vast plains, empty forests and open spaces marked by small cities, each with their own story. Some—like the Land of Shared Pain and the Land of Majority Rule—have their stories recounted by the last inhabitants, while others have their natures unveiled slowly, though often with a dark surprise. There’s a kind of humanistic cynicism at work throughout, and Sigsawa frequently implies that the beauty of the world is merely the reverse side of human ugliness and slaughter.

Perhaps the highest praise that can be offered for Kino’s prose is that it tells a beautiful story without ever getting ugly. The novel flows well, and while not always achieving great heights, never dips below a certain quality line. That said, the novel shines most when indulging in lonely landscapes and open roads; it’s a kind of Edward Hopper painting on paper, and it proves both effective and startlingly beautiful.

Kino no Tabi is hardly standard YA fare—indeed, I suspect most tweens would be sent running the opposite direction from this meditative, often quiet account of a young girl’s wanderings. Young readers aside, Kino’s almost folkloric sensibilities and thoughtful nature make it appropriate for any age, and a slim, 200-page length keeps it on the quick read side. It’s a damn shame Tokyopop has left the title in publishing limbo, as this journey is one every reader should take.

–Reviewed by Chloe Ferguson

Translucent Tree

By Nobuko Takagi; Translated by Deborah Iwabuchi
Vertical, Inc., 188 pp.

Don’t be fooled by Translucent Tree’s packaging—though the elegant, understated dust jacket suggests Serious Literature—or at least an Oprah’s Bookclub selection—the contents are more Danielle Steele than Soseki Natsume. The story focuses on Chigiri, a divorcee living in a rural town with a teenage daughter and an elderly father whose memory is failing. Though she holds down a job, Chigiri can barely make ends meet. The arrival of Go, a successful documentary filmmaker from Tokyo, offers her a respite from her dreary caretaker routine, as the two embark on a Last Tango in Paris-style relationship. (Read: more emphasis on the carnal, less emphasis on the caring.) Moved by Chigiri’s plight, Go suggests that he pay Chigiri for her sexual favors, an offer that, to his surprise, she accepts.

As one might guess from my brief synopsis, the central theme of Translucent Tree is power. Author Nobuko Takagi uses Chigiri and Go’s frequent assignations to illustrate how each wields power over the other: in Go’s case, via his age, his education, and his financial resources, and in Chigiri’s, via her femininity and her emotional detachment. Alas, Takagi lacks the nerve of a Marguerite Duras, softening the potentially unsavory implications of the storyline by portraying Chigiri and Go as lovers who just happen to have a financial understanding, not a kept woman and her sugar daddy.

The text itself is stilted, filled with flowery metaphors and euphemisms for genitalia that wouldn’t be out of place in a Harlequin romance. Without reading knowledge of Japanese, I don’t know if that tone is original to Takagi’s novel, or a reflection of translator Deborah Iwabuchi’s own sensibilities. The triteness of the omniscient narrator’s voice, however, is purely Takagi’s, and is a frequent source of irritation:

When people are in love, they think about the meaning of love. When you’re not in love, there’s no reason to spend your time thinking about it. On the other hand, it’s impossible even for someone who is in love to have a correct understanding of it.

Come again?

Though I might have dispensed with the Zen-lite musings on love and the frequent references to “organs” and “members,” I found Translucent Tree engrossing. Takagi keeps the suds to a minimum (at least until the final pages of the book), focusing instead on the not-so-glamorous aspects of Chigiri and Go’s lives: failed marriages, midlife angst, aging parents. (No one jets to Tahiti for a weekend of passion, no one works for a women’s fashion magazine.) Takagi’s realism may dissuade Danielle Steele fanatics from trying Translucent Tree, but I think they’ll find its semi-trashy plot, resourceful heroine, and ten-hanky ending of a piece with Second Chance, Palomino, and other best-sellers from the Steele canon. Anyone hoping for a more literary romance—perhaps along the lines of The Lover or The Unbearable Lightness of Being—may find Translucent Tree a little too pat for their tastes.

Tip for travelers: if you’re going to read Translucent Tree on a bus or a plane—as I did—be prepared to have your neighbor reading the steamy bits over your shoulder.

–Reviewed by Katherine Dacey

Whether it was Hillary Clinton’s historic speech at the Democratic Convention or John McCain’s selection of a female running mate, we felt inspired to post a girl-centric installment of Manga Minis. This week’s column looks at shojo and seong-jun titles from Go! Comi, Tokyopop, Viz, and Yen Press including volume two of Cy-Believers, volume two of Goong: The Royal Palace, volume eight of staff favorite Love*Com, volume one of Rolling, and volume one of Disney Fairies: Vidia and the Fairy Crown.

Cy-Believers, Vol. 2

By Shioko Mizuki
Go! Comi, 200pp.
Rating: 16+

The second installment of Shioko’s Mizuki’s Cy-Believers is, if nothing else, a stellar example of bad transitioning and plot rehabilitation. The first hundred or so pages cruise along amiably through situational comedy until, out of seemingly nothing, a curveball last chapter manages to scare up some drama, tension and secrecy that presumably will bridge the series into future installments.

Which begs the question: why spend two and a half volumes treading water only to suddenly try and ground this airy, gag strip-eqsue comedy in something of substance? Almost the entirety of the volume is given over to yet more comedic, meanderingly pointless episodes involving everygirl Rui and her attractively nerdy compatriots until the arrival of Rui’s creeper of a father provides an excuse for change. And change it does, as suddenly everything is not as it seems, otherwise known as time to air some family laundry–much-needed plot development, to be sure, but also one hell of a right turn for the series. The art style, however, remains hopelessly mired in the same ambiguous toned world of its predecessor, showcasing Mizuki’s ability to sketch characters but not backgrounds well. Granted, Cy-Believers is no longer a plotless wonder, but do you really need two volumes of filler to get there?

–Reviewed by Chloe Ferguson

Goong: The Royal Palace, Vol. 2

By Park So Hee
Yen Press, 200 pp.
Rating: Teen (13+)

Goong: The Royal Palace unfolds in an alternate version of present-day Korea, one that still boasts a Windsor-esque royal family. The story focuses on commoner Chae-Kyung, a high school student who marries the next in line to the Korean throne. Just as Diana Spence did in real life, Chae-Kyung discovers that being a princess isn’t glamorous, as her day-to-day life is filled with palace intrigue, onerous civic responsibilities, jealous classmates, and an indifferent husband who’s in love with someone else. (At least Crown Prince Shin is a babe.)

Though the plot is an amalgam of familiar soap-opera conventions—romantic triangles! hot younger siblings! disapproving mother-in-laws!—the story has surprising depth, showing us the emotional toll that public life exacts on the young couple. The characters, too, are developed beyond their plot functions into flawed, interesting people. Chae-Kyung, for example, is a refreshingly honest, outspoken heroine who tries to please her new family while struggling to preserve her sense of self, sometimes committing egregious faux pas in the process. Another plus is the artwork: it’s flat-out gorgeous, with considerable attention devoted to ancient ceremonial costumes (not to mention the contemporary fashions… no one here shops the sale rack at Old Navy). The characters’ bodies are somewhat stylized, but are a little softer and more languid than the norm for seong-jun manhwa, adding to the artwork’s sensual appeal. Pair those beautiful images with a compelling plot and boatloads of romantic tension, and you have the recipe for manhwa crack. Highly recommended for shojo and josei buffs of all ages.

–Reviewed by Katherine Dacey

Love*Com, Vol. 8

By Aya Nakahara
Viz, 216 pp.
Rating: Teen (13+)

Risa and Outani are finally going out, but she’s uncertain about how she’s supposed to act around him now. She’s got this preconceived notion of what a girlfriend should be, and internally beats herself up each time she fails to live up to that ideal. It helps some when Outani sets aside his natural reticence and introduces her to people as his girlfriend, but he still hasn’t articulated exactly why he loves her, and she’s having a hard time imagining what he could see in her.

Later, Outani’s neighbor, Mimi, finds out he’s got a new girlfriend and is furious. The beautiful and tall middle schooler has harbored a crush on him for years, but abandoned hope because she thought he only liked tiny girls. A lot of Mimi angst follows, and while it’s creditable that Risa sympathizes with her plight, the way this new character suddenly dominates the story is rather irksome.

Eventually, though, I realized that her purpose is to solidify the main couple’s relationship. We see that she really poses no threat to them at all, that Outani’s feelings never waver, and that he and Risa really are made for each other, rough edges and all. Having fulfilled this destiny, may she now go quietly away.

While this particular volume didn’t focus on the leads quite as much as I would’ve liked, it still excels at depicting the insecurities and awkwardness of this period in a relationship. That’s no surprise, since Love*Com has nailed many other aspects of first love. I’m sure it will continue to do so in the volumes to come.

–Reviewed by Michelle Smith

Rolling, Vol. 1

By Ji-sang Sin and Geo
Tokyopop, 192 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16+)

It’s not difficult to get admitted to Bright Free High School. They’ll take anyone, even other schools’ rejects, and theoretically whip them into shape with strict rules that exceed even the military’s notions of discipline. This volume introduces the four students and one freeloader who are sharing a dorm room. Episodic adventures ensue.

I’ve seen this kind of premise before, but usually in a way that incorporates character moments in with the fun. Rolling doesn’t do that; it just sort of drifts along with no point or direction. Honey and Clover, for instance, might use the chapter about the ramen shop opening up across from campus to highlight the students’ insecurities and romantic woes. In Rolling, the main point is… how come Il-yong always gets an egg?

The back cover also hints at possible romantic involvement between the characters, but this never quite materializes. Two characters are particularly cuddly with each other and some sudden personality transplants (a character shown in chapter one to be logical is suddenly inane by chapter three) allow for a nude laundry scene, but there’s no real shonen-ai to speak of.

When all is said and done, Rolling is bland. We’re given no reason to care about these characters or to find their escapades interesting.

– Reviewed by Michelle Smith

Vidia and the Fairy Crown

By Haruhi Kato
Tokyopop, 192 pp.
Rating: All Ages

Like Kingdom Hearts and Kilala Princess, Vidia and the Fairy Crown features familiar Disney characters and settings—in this case, the fairies of Never Land—in brand new adventures. The manga itself takes its cue not from Disney’s animated Peter Pan film of 1953, but a more recently launched line of spin-off novels and straight-to-DVD movies based loosely on characters from J. M. Barrie’s 1906 novella, Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. (God, I love the Wikipedia sometimes…) Given the source material, it’s not surprising that most Never Land fairies are wholesome and domestic, blessed with talents such as doing dishes, folding laundry, and making other people clap. The lone exception is Vidia, a dour creature whose primary talents are flying fast and talking trash about the other fairies—two qualities that immediately endeared her to me, but make her an outsider in Pixie Hollow. When the Queen’s crown goes missing, the other fairies scapegoat Vidia, accusing her of stealing it. Vidia then teams up with the impossibly sunny Prill to clear her name, retrieve the Queen’s tiara, and teach the other fairies a lesson about tolerance.

Older readers will find the material predictable, as the mystery unfolds in the same manner as a typical Scooby Doo episode, with every clue’s significance explained in painstaking detail. Parents, too, may find the story wanting, especially its retrograde gender roles—surely Disney could have updated the material to include fairies with talents outside the kitchen and the washroom. Seven-to-ten-year-old girls, however, will adore Vidia and the Fairy Crown for its button-cute artwork and fantasy elements, though many of them will prefer the prissy Prill to her saucy, black-clad counterpart.

–Reviewed by Katherine Dacey

Mamoru the Shadow Protector, Vol. 1

By Sai Madara
DrMaster, 158 pp.
Rating: 13+

You’d think being a highly-skilled ninja would be a dream come true, but tell that to Mamoru Kagemori, the main character of Mamoru the Shadow Protector. For him, coming from a family of great warriors brings nothing but headaches, given their duty to protect the wealthy Konnyaku family. Luckily for us, his trials and tribulations translate into an entertaining, cutely-drawn manga that never takes itself too seriously, even if the main character does.

As a narrator informs us, a great lord who loved konnyaku – a traditional, Japanese jelly-like delicacy – had ordered the family which made it to be secretly-protected by a ninja clan; countless years into the future, the Kagemori family continues this tradition. By day, Mamoru Kagemori, a friend of Yuna Konnyaku since childhood, appears to be just another ordinary high school student. However, whenever Yuna gets into trouble, he uses his superhuman agility, weapons, even a ninja dog to protect her.

The idea of dual identities – one mild-mannered, the other heroic and exciting – is something right out of countless superhero comics, and indeed, Mamoru’s high school student alter-ego even includes coke-bottle eyeglasses (albeit ones with a unique swirled pattern on the lenses). But the manga bears more resemblance to one of those old Popeye cartoons featuring Sweet Pea the mischievous baby, where a simple day out becomes an epic struggle to keep harm at bay.

Yuna has a real knack for getting into trouble, and most of the hijinks in volume one stem from her accidentally witnessing a drug deal, which she, due to her ditzy nature, fails to recognize for what it is. Nevertheless, a yakuza boss decides to eliminate her, and one after another, sends henchmen, a beautiful swordswoman, even a cadre of animal-themed assassins to do the job. Although Mamoru reacts to these threats with lightning speed, Yuna, being her oblivious self, never has the slightest clue what danger she is in.

Both the overall comedic tone and her total lack of awareness make up part of Mamoru the Shadow Protector’s considerable charm, but they also help set it apart from the standard superhero comic; imagine if Superman kept himself completely secret, and Lois Lane went through life never knowing she was being watched over. It may not sound like a formula that could sustain any serial over a number of volumes, but writer/artist Sai Madara keeps things interesting in different ways, one of which is tossing a screwball to anyone expecting a traditional comic book romance.

Along with the power to beat up bullies, the ability to impress the boy/girl next door ranks high among reasons why superheroes appeal so strongly to adolescents. However, in a so-obvious-it’s-kinda-brilliant twist, Mamoru views Yuna as a burden, even expressing annoyance at certain character traits, while she seems genuinely interested in him. Later volumes will undoubtedly determine if Mamoru comes around and considers her to be more than just his job. Meanwhile, Madara wisely includes a scene giving Yuna some depth – a sub-plot in which she goes out of her way to help a lost little boy. It’s a nice break from ninja-on-yakuza action, and for readers, these moments also show exactly why Yuna really is worth rescuing.

Volume one of Mamoru the Shadow Protector is available now.

Me and the Devil Blues, Vol. 1

By Akira Hiramoto
Del Rey, 544 pp.
Rating: OT 16+

RJ isn’t cut out for a farmer’s life. Despite the urgings of his sister and pregnant wife to give up his dreams of becoming a bluesman, he still finds himself drawn to the local juke joint, where folks of ill repute gather to listen to the blues. His own efforts to master the guitar aren’t going well, though, and after a particularly poor reception to his playing, one of the denizens jokingly suggests that he sell his soul to the devil to obtain the skill he lacks.

The desperate RJ goes through with the deal, and returns to wow the crowd with his incredible newfound ability. All this is not without a price, though, as he learns he’s actually been gone for six months and that his wife and baby have died in the interim, part of the devil’s deal to enable him to know the blues. He sets out on the road and before too long encounters Clyde Barrow, a white man and a criminal, who involves RJ in his schemes, one of which threatens to cost RJ his life.

I can honestly say that Me and the Devil Blues is unlike any manga I’ve ever read before. In fact, I think the closest thing to it in terms of tone and feel would be The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman. There are parts that I really love and parts that I still don’t quite get, and through it all there is an unstinting depiction of the brutality and ignorance of which the human race is capable. Uplifting it is not.

The art—truly excellent throughout—also reminds me of American comics to some degree, but with more consistent quality than that medium usually manages. The resemblance is particularly striking in the first few chapters, where much of the action takes place at the juke joint in RJ’s rural town. Panels have no free space, and instead reflect a darkened interior crowded with people dancing, drinking, and socializing. It’s not hard to imagine it in gritty color.

Hiramoto also does great things with the character of Clyde Barrow, managing to visually convey the man’s potential to be charming, confident, scheming, rattled, and dangerous. I particularly like the mannerisms he’s been given; I’m not sure I’ve seen a mangaka bother to give someone a recognizable tic like Clyde’s habitual hair smoothing before. The time period of the story (early 1930s) is also well-rendered, with hairstyles, clothing, cars, and attitudes all doing their part to contribute to a feel of historical accuracy.

While certainly not the sunniest option one might have for reading material, Me and the Devil Blues is not one to miss. It may also be just the thing for that comics-loving pal of yours who is absolutely convinced there’s no manga that would appeal to them.

Volume 1 of Me and the Devil Blues is available now.

On tap this week: mini-reviews of Forest of Gray City (Vol. 2; Yen Press), a Korean title with a josei vibe; Kekkaishi (Vol. 14; Viz), a shonen title that Chloe, Isaac, and I heartily recommend; and Pumpkin Scissors (Vol. 3; Del Rey), a military drama with topical themes.

Forest of Gray City, Vol. 2

By Uhm JungHyum
Yen Press, 200 pp.
Rating: Teen

Mourning the cancellation of Suppli? Still in Tramps Like Us withdrawal? Then I have something to help you heal that josei jones: Forest of Gray City, a two-volume soap opera chronicling a March-December romance between a twenty-something woman and her seventeen-year-old roommate. The first volume introduced us to the three principle characters: Yun-Ook, a graphic designer whose independent streak has complicated her search for Mr. Right; Bum-Moo, a brooding hottie with a killer wardrobe and a taste for older women; and Bum-Moo’s stepsister, whose loves her younger brother a little too much. Volume two begins with an extended flashback to Bum-Moo’s relationship with his stepsister, showing us how they met, and how tragedy brought them closer together.

Uhm JungHyum packs enough sudsy twists into the first sixty pages for a sweeps’ week worth of General Hospital episodes: second-chance weddings, fatal car crashes, law suits, and abusive husbands all factor into Bum-Moo’s backstory. Yet Forest of Gray City never veers into camp or melodrama, thanks to the beautiful artwork. Uhm JungHyum uses screentone and background detail sparingly, often relying on white space to suggest the isolation and sadness her principles are feeling. The story itself is a little rushed; the artist introduces a rival for Yun-Ook’s affections midway through the second volume, never allowing us to see this character as anything but a plot device. (His subplot barely merits twenty pages—a hiccup in the resolution of the central drama.) Narrative shortcomings notwithstanding, Forest of Gray City offers the same kind of compelling characters and elegant artwork as Suppli, Tramps Like Us, and Walkin’ Butterfly in a wallet-friendly, two-volume package, complete with gorgeous color plates. A must for josei connoisseurs!

–Reviewed by Katherine Dacey

Kekkaishi, Vol. 14

By Yellow Tanabe
Viz, pp.
Rating: Teen (13+)

In this volume of Yellow Tanabe’s utterly enchanting Kekkaishi, we see a return to the episodic storytelling of earlier volumes. Though the multivolume Kokuboro arc was quite fun, the episodic supernatural dilemma solving is where this series really shines. Whether it’s taking down rogue ayakashi or stymieing the sex drive of a lustful goblin king, Yoshimori always has many hurdles to overcome in his quest to become a stronger kekkaishi.

In my last review, I noted the remarkable similarities between this series and its Shonen Jump counterpart Bleach. To be sure, the series have a lot in common. Demon-slaying dominates, and they even both involve cross-dimensional travel to an enemy fortress. As Kekkaishi finished its Kokuboro arc though, it has accomplished what Bleach did not. After an epic conflict, Kekkaishi has taken the much more believable and entertaining route of returning to the episodic storytelling that made it so great in the first place. Where Bleach has all but abandoned its most compelling draw, the monster-of-the-day fare of the pre-Soul Society arc, Kekkaishi has made a triumphant return. For Bleach, any sense of grounding has been lost as increasingly boring non-stop epic battles have dominated everything since the impressive Soul Society arc. For Kekkaishi, the first long story arc of Kokuboro was likewise a triumph, but the aftermath has been a far greater pleasure.

In addition, Tanabe’s art has only improved since her early volumes. My favorite improvement has been how wonderful all of the characters facial expressions are now. Also, Tanabe has a rare gift for a shonen mangaka: her flashback arcs are awesome. They add a lot to the story, and make you love the characters even more. Cheers to Kekkaishi and Yellow Tanabe for making me genuinely hopeful for the future of shonen manga. Run, don’t walk to the nearest volume of Kekkaishi. You won’t regret it!

–Reviewed by Isaac Hale

Pumpkin Scissors, Vol. 3

By Ryotaro Iwanaga
Del Rey, 222 pp.
Rating: 16+

Volume three of Pumpkin Scissors is lackluster at best. The book picks up with the Pumpkin Scissors busting the President of Public Waterworks for meeting with the elusive Sterling Wheel. The operation then devolves into a “who’s had a sadder time at war” battle between a flame-thrower named Hans and PS’s own Corporal Oland. Hans dies, SW leaves (mysteriously) and Pumpkin Scissors is sent back to HQ where they laugh, cry and find out their leader, the tomboyish Alice, has a fiancé.

Though volume three has drama to spare, the childish art ruined any mood that was created. Hans’ dilemma was an interesting storyline, but he didn’t last long enough for his torment to matter. Alice’s engagement and the introduction of her sisters seemed like useless filler. And almost every event that occurred in this volume never seemed mature enough for the “war” tone the book is trying to give off, or to justify the 16+ rating.

The entire time I was reminded of Full Metal Alchemist, as the two stories share the same wartime European setting. Yet Pumpkin Scissors lacks the fantastical magic that makes FMA the interesting story that it is. Possibly the only “magical” object in Pumpkin Scissors is Oland’s Blue Light, which makes him “super-human.” However, it seems almost as ineffective as the book itself. Not recommended.

–Reviewed by Sam Kusek