One of an occasional series reviewing titles from Viz’s Shojo Beat imprint. This installment looks at the seventh volumes of Godchild and Nana and the first volume of S.A..

Godchild, Vol. 7

By Kaori Yuki
Viz, 200 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16+)

The first three volumes of Kaori Yuki’s Godchild read like an Edward Gorey mystery complete with gypsies, poisons, and lanky figures in top hats and capes, while the next three tapped a V.C. Andrews vibe as the Cain family secrets—incest, murder, child abuse—came to light. The penultimate volume doesn’t skimp on the lurid revelations, as Yuki provides a gruesome backstory for Dr. Jizabel Disraeli and reveals why Alexis resurrected Cain’s fiancée Suzette. Whether or not you enjoy this volume will depend largely on your tolerance for Grand Guignol touches. I found the characters’ behavior too cruel and stomach-churning to be moving but not ridiculous enough to be campy fun. I’d have given this volume an even lower score, but I’m a sucker for Yuki’s elegant artwork and her cheerfully perverse sidebars, which are a refreshing change of pace from the usual “I like to listen to the radio when I work” commentaries that fill the margins of many manga. If you’re a die-hard Kaori Yuki fan or a Godchild completist, you’ll want to read this installment; others may find it too overripe and confusing to be satisfying.

Volume seven of Godchild is available now. To read a review of volume three, click here.

Nana, Vol. 7

By Ai Yazawa
Viz, 192 pp.
Rating: Older Teens (parental advisory over mature content)

At the beginning of volume seven, Hachi finds herself the odd woman out, as a major record label attempts to sign Nana O.’s band and Jun mounts an art show at a local gallery. Hachi feels conflicted: though she’s proud of her gal pals, jealousy and loneliness make it difficult for Hachi to savor their happiness as her own. Those feelings of ambivalence spill over into Hachi’s love life as well, leading her to question the wisdom of her relationship with “Trapnest hottie Takumi” (as he’s helpfully identified in the jacket copy) and view the lovelorn Nobou with fresh eyes.

If the rock-and-roll elements of Nana seem contrived (or just too wishful), the interactions between the two Nanas are firmly grounded in real life. Yazawa’s dialogue and body language capture the undercurrents of competitiveness, possessiveness, loyalty, and love that inform close friendships between women. She also does a fine job of evoking a feeling that I remember experiencing in my early twenties, when it seemed like my more career-minded (or marriage-minded) friends were closing in on their goals while I struggled to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. It’s the “truthiness” of such moments, rather than the backstage intrigue and cool costumes, that keeps me invested in Nana, and makes me wish that more of Yazawa’s work was available in English.

Volume seven of Nana is available now.

S.A. (Special A), Vol. 1

By Maki Minami
Viz, 200 pp.
Rating: Teen

Kei Takishima and Hikari Hanazono, the protagonists of Maki Minami’s battle-of-the-sexes comedy S.A., are a gender-reversed version of Frank Butler and Annie Oakley. Ever since Kei bested Hikari in a childhood wrestling match, Hikari has dedicated herself to outshining him athletically and academically, even convincing her working-class parents to send her to an expensive private school so that she can compete directly with Kei. There’s just one problem: no matter how hard Hikari studies geometry or practices her jump shot, Kei always prevails.

Her efforts don’t go unrewarded, however, as Hikari is the second-ranked student in her class—right behind Kei. The two belong to an elite group known as “Special A” (or “S.A.” for short), comprised of the top seven students in their grade. The other five members of S.A. are a quirky lot, identified at the beginning of each chapter by rank and epithet. There’s seventh-ranked Ryu Tsuji, the “son of a sporting goods company president”; sixth-ranked Akira Toudou, “daughter of an airline company president”; fifth-ranked Tadashi Karino, “the wanderlust-stricken son of the school director”; and fourth-ranked Megumi Yamamoto and her third-ranked twin brother Jun, whose “parents are a music producer and a genius violinist.”

Most of volume one reads like Frank Butler and Annie Oakley’s most famous duet, as Kei and Hikari bicker over which one is stronger and smarter. Hikari gradually realizes that Kei respects her, even if he relishes her indignant reaction to the nickname “Number 2.” Before the kissing and hand-holding can begin, however, Kei will need to overcome a formidable obstacle: Hikari’s cluelessness. She’s too absorbed in her quest to defeat him (or perhaps too dense) to acknowledge his obvious affection for her.

Some readers may find the fantasy of a hot guy digging a smart girl so appealing that they’ll overlook the fact that Kei is rather sexist. He seldom allows Hikari to succeed or fail on her own terms, intervening whenever she looks poised to injure or humiliate herself and reminding her that she shouldn’t try so hard because girls just aren’t as capable as boys. (At least when it comes to slam dunks and lay-ups.)

The other drawback to S.A. is the under-utilized supporting cast. By emphasizing her characters’ privileged backgrounds, Minami seems to be laying the foundation for conflict between Hikari, whose father is a carpenter, and her well-to-do friends, whose parents are captains of industry. Yet no one seems to notice the class differences that separate Hikari from her peers, nor does Hikari’s ferocious work ethic attract much comment from her monied pals, none of whom bother to attend class. In fact, the other students—with the exception of Megumi, who records her thoughts on a pad of paper instead of speaking—barely register as characters at all (at least in volume one).

If the characterizations sometimes disappoint, Minami’s crisp artwork does not. Her character designs fall within the norms of mainstream shojo, but are rendered with regard for anatomy and facial structure that’s rare in many comedies; characters are always recognizable, even when reduced to a deformed, arm-flapping state. Minami also scores points for her unusually detailed backgrounds. Whether she’s drawing the teeming streets of Hikari’s neighborhood or the opulent interior of the Takishima family villa, Minami’s attention to architecture, furniture, and signage grounds the story in a more specific locale than the generic Shojo Space-Time found in so many high school comedies.

Volume one also includes “Incomplete Chorus,” a short story about a shy girl who overcomes her stage fright with the encouragement of a talented violinist. The artwork here is a little more restrained than in the main narrative, with fewer extreme close-ups and more white space. It’s a nice coda to the book, and showcases a more thoughtful side of Minami’s storytelling—one I’d like to see more of in volume two of S.A.

Volume one of S.A. is available now.