Wanna give a shout-out to Ali at Worducopia and Susan at Color Online and say thanks for starting this. It’s giving me an opportunity to actually provide opinions about things instead of posting news items all day and hopefully I’ve attracted a few new readers as a result.

Susan says next month is Asian Heritage Month, so the theme this week is Asian and Asian-American creators. And since manga is not exactly something I’m knowledgeable about, I’ll stick to discussing comics by Asian-Americans.

Two of the most prominent AA creators right now are Derek Kirk Kim and Gene Luen Yang. The former is Korean, the latter Chinese, and both creators weave elements of their respective cultures in their work while keeping them accessible to all audiences.

Kim’s books, like Same Difference and Other Stories, are marked by a love of geek culture and the awkwardness of young adult relationships. His autobiographical stories have a self-depreciating humor that also pokes fun at certain unusual aspects of Korean life. He can take on a variety of art styles, and the anthology Same Difference alternates from the semi-realistic style of the title story to a broad, almost diagrammatic technique for some of his single-page gag strips.

Yang’s books, like the critically-acclaimed American Born Chinese, have a more spiritual bent to them, though they stop short of proselytizing. CO and Worducopia readers may recall that ABC made history in 2006 by becoming the first graphic novel to be nominated for a National Book Award.

The two recently teamed up to create a new graphic novel anthology, The Eternal Smile. I just finished reading it. While I think the three stories in this book rely a little too much on the M. Night Shyamalan-like twist (which Yang did use to magnificent effect in ABC), it’s still enjoyable enough to serve as an introduction to the two creators’ work if you’ve never read them before.

In addition: Adrian Tomine has done a variety of quiet, introspective relationship comics, including his long-running series Optic Nerve… My friend Stan Yan makes humor comics, my favorite being The Wang. He really has gotten better and better as an artist over the years, so if you like raunchy-yet-geeky humor, give his comics a try… This spring has seen the release of an anthology of AA talent called Secret Identities. (Here’s an interview with one of the editors.) Haven’t read it yet, but the buzz is positive… The first time I saw Jen Wang’s work, it was as part of the phenomenal anthology Flight, and I thought she was one of the brightest spots of what is by all accounts a superlative collection of young comics talent.

And while I’m not that much into manga, there is one manga that I’ve read that left a huge impression on me: Eagle: The Making of an Asian-American President by Kaiji Kawaguchi. Long before America even heard of Barack Obama, here was a story of a minority running for – and winning – the White House. Written during the Clinton administration, some of it may seem dated, especially in this post 9-11 world, but it does a superb job of chronicling the suspense of a political campaign, with all the double dealing, intrigue, highs and lows that come with it.

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.

Variante, Vol. 1 – 4

By Iqura Sugimoto
Published by CMX
Rating: Mature (18+)

A young girl named Aiko awakens after witnessing her parents brutal murder at the hands of an inhuman beast called a Chimera, to find that her left arm has been altered by the experience. Picked from the hospital by the shadowy organization known as Atheos, Aiko is given a choice. Aid them in battling, capturing and studying the Chimera, or become a test subject herself. Can Aiko survive the battles with the Chimeras? Where do they come from? What is Atheos? And why does her left arm seem to be constructed of Chimera cells? The dark, grim series of Variante holds the answers!

This is not a happy series. Right from the get go things are grim with the slaughter of Aiko’s family and the weirdness of her left arm. Aiko spends a good chunk of the first volume in tears, being miserable and lonely, and basically wanting to die. It’s kind of understandable considering all the insanely horrible things that happen to her. Thankfully she gets a bit more proactive in the subsequent volumes, but she never quite takes control of the situation in the way one would hope. Instead she essentially allows herself to be used as a weapon to battle the Chimeras, trying to convince herself that this is a reason for living while crushing on one of her captors, an investigator known as Sudo. The reason for this is pretty easy, while everyone else treats her like a living weapon or a subject for experimentation, or even something to be feared, Sudo’s the only one who treats her like a person and who doesn’t want her to die. The reasons for this are many and ultimately ties into an ugly head band he wears all the time.

Of course there are also dozens of mysteries and twists, most of them coming in the final two volumes: the secret behind Atheos, what’s up with Aiko’s arm, why Sudo always wears that head band, and why he cares about what happens to Aiko so much. All of those questions, plus mysteries that were so deeply hidden they seemingly come out of nowhere, are all answered by the final climatic volume. Sadly the ultimate end is yet another downer!

Sugimoto’s art is actually pretty good. There’s a nice mixture of cross-hatching and toning that works well here, giving the artwork a unique feel to it that helps convey the rather bleak world of the series. The designs of the Chimeras and Aiko’s left arm are very organic looking, perhaps a bit too organic–at times it can be difficult to differentiate various parts and bits of their anatomy. They tend to look like flesh grown willy-nilly at times, or perhaps cancerously, with large bumpy flesh, flesh stretching like a bats wing, mouths where there shouldn’t be any, that kind of thing. They’re certainly weird looking and freaky. Sugimoto also does a fantastic job at the scenes of carnage that fill the book. Bodies flayed and dismembered, rooms turned to rubble, destroyed vehicles and the like, all look really amazing here. The action scenes are few and far between which leaves a lot of the character interaction and various mysteries to carry the book, and thankfully Sugimoto’s artwork works there as well. While the anatomy at times can look a little bit off, Sugimoto does a very good job at getting characters emotional states across via their facial expressions. You can practically see Aiko’s lip trembling at times.

It’s a hard series to recommend because it’s quite a downer. Aiko just has one horrible thing happen to her after another, especially in the first volume. It really got to a point where I was muttering, “You’ve got to be kidding me,” to myself at times. After the depressing first volume it does pick up a bit, but it’s still not exactly a fun, happy adventure by any means. Horror fans might enjoy it, though the angst factor is kind of high and that could be turn off for many.

All four volumes of Variante are available now.

One Pound Gospel, Vols. 1-2

By Rumiko Takahashi
Published by Viz
Rating: Older Teen (16+)

When you hear Rumiko Takahashi’s name, what do you think of? Action/romance comedies have always been Takahashi’s strong suit, though her series tend to be extremely lengthy. (Ranma ½ was 38 volumes, while Urusei Yatsura was 34 volumes!) To the serious collector, this isn’t a hassle, but to the casual reader, keeping up with a long series can be expensive and tiresome. That’s where the four-volume One-Pound Gospel comes in. Takahashi began One Pound Gospel in the 1980s, after she completed another short story collection, the four-volume Mermaid Saga. She worked on Gospel over the next twenty years, finishing the final chapter in 2007. Viz has just begun re-issuing the complete run in a new, unflipped edition that offers new readers a short and sweet entrée to Takahashi’s work.

Volume one introduces us to Kosaku Hatanaka, a fledging boxer with immense talent. Despite his powerhouse punches, Kosaku can’t seem to make weight for his fights due to his inability to control his appetite. To make matters worse, he has fallen for Sister Angela, a local nun-in-training who’s made it her mission to save this “lost lamb.” The volume is a good introduction to the story, setting up Kosaku’s relationship with his coaches, Sister Angela, and the world of boxing.

Kosaku is looked down upon as a professional because of his inability to keep his weight down. (His binges sometimes cause him to throw up during a match, earning him the nickname “The Hurler.”) He almost never lands a match and when he does, it’s usually a crazed boxer out to teach Kosaku a lesson. Kosaku’s coaches are constantly trying to help him (having him sleep in the gym, adding extra weight to his scale, etc.) but end up giving up on him as a lost cause. Kosaku redeems himself with a few wins but is back to his old ways by the end of the book. It’s the kind of cute story telling that Rumiko Takahashi uses to flesh out her characters in series like Maison Ikkoku, but it wears on you with One-Pound Gospel.

Volume two is more of the same hijinks. Kosaku gets a match with his former Pro Test opponent, a toothless mongrel who has become obsessed with humiliating Kosaku. It was good direction for Rumiko to take, giving us more insight into Kosaku’s past life and his effect on others. After that episode, Kosaku encounters a boxer, who, despite his talent, is afraid of the sport. Through sheer willpower and another proposition to Sister Angela (this time to live together!), Kosaku convinces his cowardly opponent to fight and the two duke it out. Volume two was surprisingly stronger because the boxing matches hold deeper emotions and meaning than in volume one. Volume two also delves into Sister Angela’s life at the nunnery, introducing us to the Mother Superior.

Altogether, One-Pound Gospel is a good condensed version of Takahashi’s works. The characters reveal themselves through their actions: Kosaku’s inability to stop eating, Angela’s motherly ways, and the Coach’s worrisome antics all speak for the characters more than flashbacks could. The story itself is also very appealing, as Takahashi uses technical elements from the actual sport, acting almost like an educational guide. At times the story seems repetitive, as Kosaku’s binges can become annoying, making the reader wonder when he’ll learn.

Much like Zombie Powder or Bustu Zone, One-Pound Gospel represents a transitional period in a very popular manga-ka’s journey as a storyteller and artist. Though One Pound Gospel is a good read, it’s obviously not on par with Maison Ikkoku or Ranma ½. If you’re an intensive manga reader, you’ll enjoy seeing Takahashi at an earlier stage in her career; if you’re new to Takahashi’s work, One Pound Gospel makes a good introduction to her unique comedic storytelling.

Volumes one and two of One Pound Gospel are 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.

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.