Taisuke Kanou is still heading north, chasing after his childhood friend Yuichi Hirose, who kidnapped their mutual friend Megumi Ochiai. He is joined by Yuta Takizawa, a young boy searching for answers about his mother’s suicide and his powers. Taisuke and Yuta will be joined by Nami Kusunoki, who is looking to get revenge on her little brother’s murderer.

Alive: The Final Evolution Book 4
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Alive continues to be a gripping sci-fi suspense story. The series started out at a leisurely pace to allow us time to get to know Taisuke and this new reality he was trying to cope with. Beginning with volume 4, the pace picks up and increases along with the tension in the series. By volumes 7 and 8, I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough to see what comes next.

Volume four introduces a new central character, Nami Kusunoki. Her appearance made me realize how much of an influence X-Men is for this series. Nami has the ability to create ice from any source of moisture. Her favorite use of this power is to create ice claws that hover above the back of her hand. Is this starting to sound familiar? She is also gifted in martial arts and has a gruff, no-nonsense personality. She is the Wolverine of Alive. (Just without the cigars and beer.) That realization made me reexamine the abilities of the other characters, and it’s not hard to draw similar connections between the cast of Alive and X-Men characters.

Alive: The Final Evolution Book 5
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This similarity to X-Men offers the chance for Alive to have crossover appeal to American comic book fans, especially superhero fans. Further contributing to this appeal, the artwork in Alive is also comparable to the art found in most American comics. However, even with a quickened pace, Alive would still be considered a slow read compared to the compressed storytelling used in the standard Marvel or DC comic. All things considered, Alive would be a good series for manga fans to use to introduce American comics fans to manga.

Volume five explains how these non-corporeal alien life forms are able to connect with a human host. When the aliens enter a human mind, they seek out the dark recesses of the soul/heart/personality. The manga talks about there being a hole in our heart that the aliens fill. However, that’s an alien explaining what they do in a polite way. What really happens is the alien exploits the host’s insecurities, weaknesses, or character flaws.

Alive: The Final Evolution Book 6
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So the aliens exploit Yuicihi’s feeling of helplessness and his jealousy of Taisuke, Nami’s sorrow over the death of her brother, and Taisuke’s guilt over this parent’s death. (You’ll have to read the manga to find out why he blames himself.) The aliens can completely control some people, like Yuichi, and these become comrades. Others commit suicide as a result of this manipulation, and a rare few, like Taisuke, are able to bond with an alien and remain themselves. People like Taisuke have yet to be explained.

The way the aliens operate explains why Kawashima has made sure to give us the background of all the characters we encounter. It brings some depth to each person and makes everyone sympathetic to some extent. We know that even the most ruthless of the comrades is being manipulated. On the other hand, the aliens now become the perfect villains. You despise them completely for the utter disregard they have for humans. We are tools simply to be used until they achieve their goals, then we are cast aside like garbage.

Alive: The Final Evolution Book 7
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Another emotional component to the manga is the tragic love triangle among Taisuke, Yuichi, and Megumi. All three have been friends since childhood. Now in their high school years, Megumi has begun to have romantic feelings toward Taisuke. Never the brightest bulb in the box, Taisuke hasn’t figured this out yet. Meanwhile, Yuichi is beginning to develop romantic feelings for Megumi.

As the series progresses, Yuichi has come to realize Megumi’s feelings, and this is one of the reasons he’s jealous of Taisuke. Given Yuichi’s personality, there is no way for him to accept Taisuke and Megumi as a couple without being severely hurt. This is the only situation that would make him hate his two dearest and oldest friends. You know this is going to end their friendship, and you hate to see it happen.

Adachitoka’s artwork has certainly improved over the course of the series. It is now reminiscent of the artstyle used by Takeshi Obata (Death Note). Adachitoka does a great job creating the proper atmospheres and emotions. When an alien takes over someone, the panels are eerie and convey how unsettling an experience that is. When we are given flashbacks to a character’s past, they are filled with sorrow or pain.

Alive: The Final Evolution Book 8
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Adachitoka is also adept at showing the emotions of a character, not just in their face, but in their body language, too. The fight scenes are fluid and draw you quickly in. Before you know it, you’re turning the pages furiously as the scene gets more intense. I am very pleased to see the art come up to the level of the storytelling.

It’s obvious that I find Alive to be a gripping read. In fact, I was so drawn into the plot that I whizzed through the last two books in no time. Now that I know what happened, I’m going back to re-read them to pick up nuances I missed the first time around. Thankfully, Alive rewards such second reads. Fans of good suspense stories will thoroughly enjoy this series, as will most sci-fi fans. I recommend the series highly to anyone looking for a great read. I’m certainly staying with this series until the end.

(The publisher provided review copies.)

Negima!? Neo Book 3

Negima!? Neo Book 3
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story by Ken Akamatsu; art by Takuya Fujima; adapted by Alethea Nibley and Athena Nibley

Magical monsters are attacking Mahora Academy. It’s up to Negi and his students to defeat the monsters and determine who is behind the attacks. During the course of this investigation, Negi decides that he must become stronger to better protect his students and enlists the help of the vampire witch, Evangeline.

I previously reviewed volume one of this series, and boy, did things change. With volume 3, the fan service has returned with a vengeance. Which is unfortunate, since the lack of such was the main selling point of this version of the Magister Negi Magi franchise.

The stories are briskly paced and plot-driven, which turns out to be a double-edged sword. While the book is a quick read, the character development in this volume feels forced. We see Asuna undergo a massive personality change in the course of one chapter. Negi’s training moves at breakneck speed, and even though it’s magically assisted, it’s still hard to believe how much he improves over the course of one volume.

Fujima’s art continues to be beautiful. He has an excellent sense of anatomy, and his action scenes are dynamic. It’s a shame to see such talent wasted on puerile fan service. I had hoped this would be the family-friendly Magister Negi Magi manga, but those hopes have been dashed on the rocks of otaku pandering.

Honestly, I guess this series is simply another way for Akamatsu to wring money from his fans. I can’t see recommending this series over the original manga. Fans of the franchise might enjoy this alternative take on the series, but those new to the Magister Negi Magi universe will do best to read the original manga. Everyone else should find something better to read.

Orange Planet Books 1 & 2

Orange Planet Book 1
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by Haruka Fukushima; adapted by Kaya Laterman

Rui Nagasaki is a high school student living on her own. She suddenly finds herself roommates with the teaching intern assigned to her class, Eisuke Tachibana. If the school finds out she and Eisuke are living together, they will both be expelled. On top of that, she is in the middle of the classic shojo love triangle; her childhood friend, Taro, is in love with her, while Rui is in love with Kaoru, a classmate.

These two volumes of Orange Planet were an odd read. I’m used to authors beginning a series uncertain about the characters or the setup or the web of relationships and playing with these aspects of the series until all the pieces fall into place. With Orange Planet, the first volume of the manga has a strong sense of the characters, the story, and the setting. For whatever reason, Fukushima was dissatisfied with the story and in volume two began tinkering with the series.

The best and most obvious example is the character of Kaoru. Volume one ends on a cliffhanger with Kaoru announcing that he is in love with “her”. Volume two opens with Kaoru announcing he is in love with “him”. Suddenly, one of the main characters has changed sexual orientation, which ends up negating a large portion of the love triangle in volume one. It’s only the first of many abrupt changes as each chapter of volume two has Fukushima tinkering with the cast and the setup.

Orange Planet Book 2
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This makes for a disconcerting read. It’s obvious by the end of volume two that Fukushima is just randomly throwing ideas at the series, hoping something will click for her. The only aspect of the series Fukushima leaves intact is the general genre of the work. We know that when she figures out what she wants to do, it’s going to be a romantic comedy of some sort. However, the reader is so spun around by the changes that by the end of volume two, all you’re left with is a nauseating feeling of vertigo.

The only comfort readers can take in this manga is the quality of the artwork, which is well done. I’m particularly impressed with the page layouts. Many of the pages looked like they belonged in a scrapbook rather than a comic book. The panels functioned like pictures with word balloons and screentones added to give vibrancy and emotional emphasis to the moment represented. The page layouts are very effective ways of intuitively adding these dimensions to the art.

Perhaps in later volumes, this series will finally settle down and have stable characters and setup. Even if that happens, there is no reason for someone to buy these first two volumes, since they won’t be connected to the new storyline. Readers will do well to skip this series entirely and wait to see if Fukushima’s next series is as carefully planned out as her page layouts.

Princess Resurrection Books 6 & 7

Princess Resurrection Book 6
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by Yasunori Mitsunaga; adapted by Joshua Hale Fialkov

The war among the vampire royalty from the previous volumes continues in these two volumes also. However, there are other players who are using the unrest among the nobles to build their own power bases. Princess Lilianne and her entourage are constantly defending themselves from attacks by various opponents.

There appears to be an odd continuity break at the beginning of volume six. The first chapter has Princess Lilianne in jail awaiting judgment from a tribunal. The next chapter, Princess Lilianne is back home and has unexplained injuries. The imprisonment and judgment are never mentioned again. There is no explanation from the author or the publisher about the abrupt change in plot. I found it disturbing. By the end of volume six, I decided to just go with the new flow.

Princess Resurrection Book 7
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These two volumes contain mostly stand-alone stories. There is some mention of the grander narrative about the vampire royalty, but they are passing references that don’t affect the stories themselves. Instead, we are treated to a variety of horror-themed mysteries. All the classic cliches are here: undiscovered monsters, doppelgangers, haunted schools, and being trapped in the past. The stories are fun, entertaining reads.

The artwork is competent. You can see the influences of horror greats like Umezu and Hino. However, Mitsunaga isn’t really adding anything new to the horror genre artistically. Mitsunaga does a good job of evoking mood, which is essential for horror stories.

My one complaint with the series is the lack of a chart of characters with their real names, nicknames, species, and relationship to other cast members. Also a synopsis of the main plot would be nice. I’ll simply restate my recommendation from the previous volumes. This is a good escapist fiction for horror fans looking for lighter fare.

Pumpkin Scissors Books 3-5

Pumpkin Scissors Book 3
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by Ryotaro Iwanaga; adapted by Ikoi Hiroe (books 3,4) and Joshua Hale Fialkov (book 5)

Pumpkin Scissors is the nickname for the Imperial Army State Section III charged with war relief and reconstruction. They encounter opposition from other army units, civilians cynical from a government of broken promises, uncaring aristocrats, and corrupt politicians. Lieutenant Malvin’s unwavering faith in their mission binds and energizes the unit to keep going, regardless the obstacles.

Pumpkin Scissors Book 4
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As I stated in my previous review, I’m very taken with the cast of characters in this manga. I continue to be impressed by the idealism of Lt. Malvin. As the series progresses, she is confronted with many harsh realities, but she refuses to give up her ideas. Instead, each new obstacle only fuels her desire to see justice and true restoration brought to the empire. I find her as inspiring a person as Corporal Orland does.

Cpl. Orland’s struggle to come to grips with the gulf between his military training and his true personally is still moving. You have to wonder at the inhumanity of a military system that could turn such a gentle man into a fearsome death machine when facing down a tank. Lt. Malvin provides him a model of the soldier he longs to be even though he can’t articulate that desire.

Pumpkin Scissors Book 5
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We also get to see how corrupt and depraved the empire was during the war and continues to be during the restoration. The empire was desperate to win the war, and the experiments they performed on the men of the secret units are proof of how nothing was considered too extreme. The nobles and the politicians still don’t care about the people; they don’t understand the level of suffering they’ve caused and are still inflicting on civilians. Even when they are given a glimpse of living conditions of the working class, they shrug it off as something the poor deserve. I can’t image that such a society can continue to exist for much longer.

Iwanaga has found his artist stride. The line work is delicate and allows for plenty of detail. It’s perfect for a military manga where readers expect the artist to show the details of equipment and uniforms. I would like to see more shading on the characters so that they feel more substantial. Otherwise, the art is well done.

It seems that military stories are the last place where ideas like justice, honor, and duty still have meaning. I continue to enjoy this series and look forward to forthcoming volumes. Readers would do well to give this manga a try. They won’t be disappointed.

(The publisher provided review copies.)

David Welsh has organized the Manga Moveable Feast, a chance for various reviewers to focus on one work from different perspectives. Here is my contribution.

Sexy Voice (real name Nico Hayashi) is a 14-year-old girl who works part-time for a telephone club. This is a service where men go to a phone bank, pay a fee, and are able to talk to women. It’s similar to the 976 phone numbers you see advertised on late night TV. Robo (real name Iichiro Sudo) is a twentysomething adult male who starts out as one of Sexy Voice’s clients, but ends up becoming her lackey. Nico’s adventures give us an off-the-beaten-path tour of modern Tokyo.

Sexy Voice and Robo
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In some aspects, Sexy Voice and Robo reminds me of Yoshihiro Tatsumi’s gegika manga, such as Abandon the Old in Tokyo and Good-Bye. There is the surface similarity of the artwork: both men use thick lines and a streamlined drawing style. Beyond this cosmetic similarity, Kuroda and Tatsumi are both telling stories that focus on changing social realities in the wake of radical technological shifts in Japan. Both authors choose the disenfranchised and working class poor for their main characters. For the most part, their stories take place outside the famous shopping districts and corporate centers. Instead, we are given a tour of Tokyo’s side streets and red light districts. It’s on this thematic level I find the comparison of the two authors most fascinating.

Gegika chronicled the new social realities of the post-World War II industrial revolution in Japan. In particular, gegika focused on the underbelly of Japanese society that emerged as a result of Japan’s swift transformation from a rural and agrarian economic base to an urban and industrial one. By contrast, Sexy Voice and Robo’s neo-gegika explores the unseemly side of Japanese society that emerges in the wake of the computer revolution in the 1990s and 2000s. Japan is now shifting from an industrial economic base to a computerized one.

The fundamental differences between these two revolutions explain some of the fundamental differences between Tatsumi’s works and Kuroda’s manga. The industrial revolution was a radical break with Japan’s past that seemed to happen overnight as it ushered in factory jobs and new urban landscapes. It was a noisy, dirty revolution that introduced the harsh realities of the assembly line, pollution, overpopulation, and changing familiar relationships. Gegika stories reflected this new darker, gritty realty. Tatsumi’s stories had a nihilism that reflected the hopelessness of the new working class poor this revolution created.

Abandon the Old in Tokyo
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The computer revolution was much quieter and cleaner. It ushered in home computers, cell phones, the internet, and digital media. Computers are built in clean, well-lit, air-conditioned factories. Computer jobs are in similarly pleasant office environments. In general, there is a positive attitude toward the social changes that computers bring. They are perceived as liberating and empowering. Sexy Voice and Robo reflects this optimism.

Tatsumi and Kuroda are a study in opposites. While Sexy Voice and Robo was written after the Japanese economy collapsed, there is no hint of pessimism in the book. Kuroda instead chose to focus on the positive side of the technology revolution and see the potential it had to offer. Tatsumi wrote as the Japanese economy was beginning to recover from the effects of World War II; he chose to focus on the devastation that the industrial revolution was causing. Both wrote stories that dealt with the gritty side of life, but Kuroda infuses those stories with hope. There is always an underlying message that we have control over the direction and outcome of our life. We have the ability to lift ourselves out of the gutter; we simply have to muster the will to do so.

These opposing reactions to social change are best illustrated in the reader’s attitude toward the protagonists in gegika and neo-gegika. In Tatsumi’s work, we pity or are disgusted at the main characters. They are people beaten down by life. Some believe themselves trapped and act out of desperation, hoping to improve their circumstances only to make them worst. None of the stories in Abandon the Old in Tokyo or Good-Bye have a happy ending. The reader is left feeling sad and empty.

In Sexy Voice and Robo, Nico is the hero of the manga. She is someone we are meant to admire. She is smart, independent, has street savvy, and her future is filled with wonderful possibilities. She revels in the new social realities and is adept at riding the flux like a champion cybersurfer. She has all the skills need to succeed in a computerized world. She is good at gathering, analyzing, and handling information. She is gifted at reading and manipulating people, too. The reader is left feeling upbeat and good at the end of the book.

But it’s not all sunshine and puppies in Sexy Voice and Robo. Several of the people that Nico meets are isolated and lonely. We encounter a few people that would fit well in a Tatsumi manga: the kid who steals from the local yakuza, the systems engineer who realizes the network he’s built is unstable, and the hooker with no apartment who jumps from friend’s couch to friend’s couch. People trapped by their own bad decisions that need someone to help them find a safe way out of their dilemmas.

Kuroda’s most desperate character is Iichiro. He is portrayed as slow-witted and naive. Early on in the manga, Iichiro loans his car to a woman whom he has only known for 24 hours. Needless to say, he doesn’t get the car back in one piece. I wondered how he was able to afford and buy the car in the first place. Iichiro is so socially inept, it’s tempting to call him socially dysfunctional. How is he able to live on his own? I honestly thought he would be better off living in a special needs, assisted living community.

Iichiro is a man-child and this seems to be Kuroda’s opinion of otaku in general. If Nico is the exemplar of the new cybercitizen, then Iichiro is one of the people that will be swept under by the changing tides. His collecting robot figures is seen as futilely clinging to relics of the past. He is willfully used and taken advantage of by Nico. Where Nico’s future seems bright, Iichiro seems to be part of a dying breed. However, Kuroda says that no one will mourn the passing of the otaku. They will simply be an odd footnote in history.

Finally, we need to address the huge gulf that exists in the artistic abilities of Tatsumi and Kuroda. Both may use styles that have similar qualities, but a quick glance through the books will reveal that Tatsumi is a master of the manga medium and Kuroda is a novice. Kuroda’s art is enjoyable, but crude. It collapses under analysis. The lines are of uneven thickness. At times, items appeared to be quickly sketched instead of carefully drawn. There are frequent small mistakes, like characters suddenly becoming cross-eyed. Kuroda is an effective, if not accomplished, artist. Tatsumi is flawless in everything he does, and students of the comic artform should be studying his work.

I found Sexy Voice and Robo an enjoyable but flawed work. Kuroda’s optimism struck me as naive and maybe even a bit pollyannaish. Nico had more than her fair share of good luck surviving some of the circumstances she jumped into, just for the sake of adventure. Tatsumi may be a master storyteller, but his works are too nihilistic for my taste. I can only reservedly recommend either author. I’ll stick to cautiously optimistic slice-of-life stories.

Previews for all of Tatsumi’s works can be found at Drawn & Quarterly’s website.

Yozakura Quartet Book 5

Yozakura Quartet Book 5
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by Suzuhito Yasuda; adapted by Nunzio DeFlippis & Christina Weir
Del Rey Manga, $10.99 US

After the major battles of volume 4, everyone is taking time to settle back into daily life. However, they don’t get long to rest before things get exciting again. Rin, the delivery girl for a popular ramen shop, is kidnapped by a mysterious figure.

Yozakura Quartet continues to be an entertaining read. The central draw is the wonderful cast of characters that Yasuda has created. They are well-rounded individuals with lots of depth, and each volume gives us new insight into one or two people. Yasuda has poured a lot of time and care into his characters, and that affection comes through to the reader.

Another impressive aspect of the series is how normal Yasuda can make this town and its citizens feel. Sakurashin Town is a place where various demons and humans live side by side. The people have all the typical worries: going to school, running a business, the bureaucratic realities of being mayor, having a job, etc. It also helps that everyone looks like a regular human being. This normalcy makes is easy to identify with the various characters.

Yasuda continues to have good, solid art. My only disappointment with this volume was the level of fan service present. In previous volumes, there wasn’t ever more than one panty shot. In this volume, there are several. Because I find the female characters so well-rounded, I don’t like to see them objectified like this. Hopefully, this trend won’t continue in future volumes.

Yozakura Quartet has the best bonus pages of any manga series I’ve read so far. This volume Yasuda tells us about the making of the anime. He got to sit in on a voice recording session and shares his observations. It an incredible behind-the-scenes look at the making of an anime.

Yozakura Quartet is a nice blend of slice-of-life, supernatural, and great fights. It’s hard to categorize this manga or come up with another series to compare it to. Even with the big fights, the series has a quiet feel to it. The best I can recommend is that you try this volume to see if you like the series. I think you’ll find it a pleasant surprise.

Minima! Book 4

Minima! Book 4
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by Machiko Sakurai; adapted by The Nibley Sisters (Athena & Alethea)
Del Rey Manga, $11.99 US

The stuffed animal Nicori has decided to take the amusement park’s offer and become one of the star attractions. He believes this will solve the problems that he has caused. Besides dealing with Nicori’s seeming rejection of her and her family, Ame also has to sort our her feelings toward Midori and Sasaki in this final volume of the series.

Minima! has been a gentle, intimate series. Even with the supernatural element of toys talking, Minima! is really about a junior high girl coming out of her shell. Ame just needed a more unusual push than most teens. Seeing her mature in these four volumes has been a satisfying journey.

Ame isn’t the only one that grows and matures in the series; both Midori and Sasaki have problems to overcome. After years of leading separate lives, Midori’s parents are getting a divorce. Sasaki’s family moves frequently, so he doesn’t want to become too emotionally connected to anyone. Seeing both face up to their situations and find constructive ways to handle them is very heartwarming.

I’ve grown to like the art in the series. The minimalism seems to suit this last volume best. It reflects well the understated storytelling, the hidden emotions, and the awkwardness of the characters. Sakurai has always been gifted at expressing emotions, and that strength serves this final volume perfectly.

I’m going to miss Minima! It’s a short series that delivers big rewards to the reader. The characters were immensely likable, and I was very fond of them by the end of the series. This volume does have a proper ending which is comforting. It’s a well-told coming-of-age story that I recommend.

Dragon Eye Books 7 and 8

Dragon Eye Book 7
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by Kairi Fujiyama; adapted by Mari Morimoto
Del Rey Manga, $10.99 (vol 7), $11.99 (vol 8)

These volumes are the beginning of a new story arc. VIUS is having its annual fighting tournament. This year, there are important dignitaries from neighboring cities attending. It seems there are lots of hidden agendas as the tournament progresses.

Dragon Eye continues to be a fun comfort read for me. Kazuma is such a fascinating character. He seems to be a walking bag of contradictions, but as you get to know him over the series, you understand how carefully he has construed his public persona. He has these wonderful layers, and Fujiyama slowly reveals each one.

Dragon Eye Book 8
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These books are a good blend of great fighting sequences and intrigue. This is our first introduction to the larger world surrounding Mikuni City. The D virus has decimated the human population, and the survivors have formed city-states. Like the ancient Greeks, each city-state has its own culture and focus on how to protect its citizens from the dracules. I’m interested to see how this aspect of the series develops.

Fujiyama’s art has gotten noticeably better in these volumes. I don’t see the awkward poses that plagued previous volumes. The fight scenes are especially good. The drawings are very dynamic and capture the energy of the combatants well. The introduction of these new characters allows Fujiyama to create some wonderful costume and character designs.

Dragon Eye continues to be a favorite escapist read for me. Volume 7 is a good place for new readers to jump in and get a feel for the series. I won’t pretend the series has deep philosophical statements about humans or technology. The is simply a well-written story and a great cast of characters. (The publisher provided review copies.)

Jormungand Book 1

Jormungand Book 1
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by Keitaro Takahashi, adapted by Stan!, Viz Signature, $12.99 US

Koko Hekmatyar is an arms dealer who has assembled a team of highly skilled mercenaries to help her when problems arise with a client. The newest member of the team is a boy of indeterminate age named Jonah, whose sharpshooting skills border on the inhuman.

There is a scene in Jormungand where Koko gets hit with a coffee pot. At first, I couldn’t tell what was going on; it was unclear what Koko was struck with. In none of the prior panels had a coffee pot been shown in the background, but a water carafe was. This scene is a perfect analogy for the entire book. The stories have no set up. We are simply dumped into the middle of events without any explanation or background information. The events move forward, come to a conclusion, and we’re off to the next story.

Takahashi’s storytelling doesn’t allow any time for characterization. Each of the central cast comes off as simply a two-dimensional collection of odd character traits. Takahashi’s focus is more on mood and action sequences. The gritty reality of arms dealing and the situations Koko finds herself in are expected to be the focus of the reader’s attention. The book is all slick, hip surface with no depth.

The artwork is competent but feels a bit incomplete at times. Occasionally, Takahashi leaves out a small detail that makes the panel feel off. For example, in one scene, Takahashi doesn’t draw Koko’s bottom lip, and it makes her look like a poorly constructed rag doll. It’s a shame because there are some truly great panels filled with lots of details and excellent linework. The problem panels occur often enough to be distracting to the overall visual flow of the book.

Jormungand reads like a rough draft of a series. The plot and locales have all been mapped out, but the characters still need work. Usually, Viz Signature books are great reads, which made my disappointment at this book that much greater. Readers would do well to skip this series and pick one of the other books in the imprint.

Vampire Knight Book 9

Vampire Knight Book 9
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by Matsuri Hino, adapted by Tomo Kimura, Viz, $9.99 US

The Cross Academy was created in hopes of bringing understanding between vampires and humans. However, an old evil has been resurrected, and a war is breaking out among the vampire students. The events at Cross Academy could determine the fate of the world.

Vampire Knight is a soap operatic work. The pasts of all the main characters are deeply intertwined, and people are concocting plots and counterplots. Alliances seem to always be shifting as new revelations uncover hidden motivations or friends find themselves suddenly on opposite sides. To give a sense of how complicated the series is becoming, there is a summary of the plot, a chart of the connections between characters, and a summary of the major revelations thus far. This was my first exposure to the series and I was lost and unable to catch up. This is not a criticism of the series, but a warning to first-time readers.

The art is acceptable. I found all the male faces were exactly the same. I had to use hairstyles and clothes to tell the male leads apart. Otherwise, the art is a perfect compliment to the writing. Hino is able to convey moody and dark emotions well.

I’m not a fan of goth soap operas. I can understand the appeal of Vampire Knight, but it simply doesn’t work for me. Fans of contemporary vampire fiction, i.e. Twilight, will enjoy this series tremendously. Fans of traditional vampire fiction, i.e. Dracula, will do best to stay away. My teenage niece is the perfect audience for Vampire Knight.

One Piece Books 23-28

One Piece Book 23
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by Eiichiro Oda; adapted by Lance Caselman, Viz, $9.99 US each

Luffy is on a quest to be the king of the pirates, gathering an eclectic crew along the way. Together, they are searching for adventure and the legendary treasure One Piece. These volumes focus on the crew’s exploits on the island of Skypiea.

Although Luffy and his crew are called pirates, they are actually your traditional heroes. They embody all the classical virtues: honor, duty, friendship, defending the weak, doing what’s right regardless of the cost, self-sacrifice, etc. The central cast are all good-natured, likable characters. Luffy’s boundless energy and optimism is infectious. You quickly find yourself rooting for Luffy to discover One Piece and become the pirate king.

One Piece is a quick-moving manga with lots of variety to keep the reader interested. Oda knows that readers expect an adventure series to be filled with exciting locations, seemingly impossible challenges, and powerful villains. He doesn’t disappoint his fans. The series has an excellent blend of humor; you have slapstick, character-based jokes, puns, and just outright absurdity. Oda also knows when to allow the series to take on emotional and thematic depth as the plot progresses in each story arc. However, the series never becomes maudlin or self-important.

One Piece Book 24
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Oda’s artwork is well-done. The drawings are as kinetic as the characters and the pacing. His art is as versatile as his storytelling; he does humor, action, and drama all equally adept. For the most part, Oda does a wonderful job with the character designs. The one weakness in his art is his female body types. Most women share the same curvaceous figure. They are busty on top with no waist and full hips. They look like Barbie dolls with 36-18-32 measurements. Thankfully, the most egregious fanservice is simply Nami in a bikini.

These volumes were my first exposure to the One Piece series. I found the books very accessible. Volume 23 is actually the end of the Alabasta storyline. It was easy to catch up with what was going on and who the major players on each side were. I’m sure there were some nuances I was missing, but it wasn’t obvious. New readers should feel free to start with volume 24 and pick up older volumes at their leisure.

One Piece is a great escapist read and proof that genre fiction can be original and imaginative. The series is a wonderful addition to the action-adventure genre, fitting in perfectly with works like the Doc Savage books and the Indiana Jones films. Fans of these works should reward themselves by picking up One Piece. It’s easy to see why this series has such a large following not just in Japan, but in every country it’s translated.

(The publisher provided all books as review copies.)

Through a bizarre set of circumstances, Citro has merged with a powerful device called the God of Destruction’s Heart. Citro is a puppetian; a mechanical being with free will, emotions, and a mind. The guardian of the device, Tera, needs to take Citro and his friend/mechanic, Corona, to the capital of the Altasia Kingdom. The device was meant as a weapon to help Altasia in its war with the Degserka Empire. Citro is pursued by an elite group of Degserka robots who will stop at nothing to retrieve the God of Destruction’s Heart, which will ensure Degserka’s victory.

King of Debris Book 1
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King of Debris raises a lot of questions. I can’t tell what the technology of this world is. There are hover vehicles, cars that use skis instead of wheels, robots, and missiles. By contrast, there are also mysterious crystals, magical abilities, mechanical broomsticks that can morph into anything, and talking sentient hats. Perhaps Aso wants us to understand this world as a hybrid of advanced technology and magic, but that is never explained. Instead, I see vehicles and devices that seem to operate without any power source or need for fuel. I have to wonder if Aso actually thought that deeply about the world these characters inhabit.

Another problem with this series is the lack of any character development. After two volumes, the only character that even has the potential for growth appears to be Citro. All the central characters are two-dimensional. They are stereotypes pulled from the files of ‘how to make a shonen manga’ without any modification or attempt at uniqueness. Corona is the girl with technology skills. Tera is the mysterious leader who keeps her true power and knowledge hidden from her companions. Agito, who joins the band later, is the young, gifted fighter who discovers he has a long way to go to become a truly great warrior. They are outlines with no details filled in.

Finally, I couldn’t help feeling this series is derivative of Fullmetal Alchemist. The uniforms are of similar style and color patterns as the ones Edward and the alchemists wear. The mysterious core that gives life to the puppertians is reminiscent of the philosopher’s stone. There is the same mix of magic and technology. Even Corona felt like a pale imitation of Ed’s mechanic/friend Winry. However, as pointed out above, Aso hasn’t taken the time to built a world as rich and complete as Arakawa did with Fullmetal Alchemist. Instead, we have a world as thin and flimsy as rice paper.

King of Debris Book 2
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The art shows improvement over the two volumes. Unfortunately, it goes from bad to mediocre. In the beginning, Aso had characters break through panel borders indiscriminately. The pages have poor visual flow and appear cluttered. Thankfully, either Aso or an editor corrected that problem, and the page layouts read more clearly as the series progresses. However, there was still one major flaw in the art left unaddressed.

Aso has chosen to work in an almost pure black-and-white format. This causes two problems. First, boring character designs. Corona’s grandfather wears white overalls, white gloves, white hat, and has white hair. He looks like a pen drawing waiting for shading or tone work. Everyone’s jacket is black with large white trim, as though they all go to the same tailor. Second, often you have two characters wearing black coats standing next to each other, and the black areas blend into one. You have to study the panel to distinguish which parts of the black area belong to which character. Other artists, like CLAMP, know that you have to cheat and outline characters in white so readers don’t get confused. Aso needs to learn that trick.

King of Debris is tepid and uninspired. The story and characters barely manage to hold the reader’s attention. I read both volumes back to back and found that halfway through the second book I was forcing myself to turn the pages and go on. Aso is attempting to cash in on the popularity of Fullmetal Alchemist but doesn’t have any of Arakawa’s talent. So we are left with a series that should have died on the submissions desk. Don’t waste time with a destitute imitation; go read the original manga.

You can read a preview of volume 1 at CMX’s website. (The publisher provided a review copy of volume 2.)

The Kana storyline from volume 5 continues. Britney, one of the regulars at the restaurant where Kana works, has witnessed a murder and is being sought by the police and hunted down by the killer. Kana makes arrangements for Britney to get out of town and to stay with her grandmother. However, things get complicated fast as it turns out that Britney has stumbled upon something much bigger.

20th Century Boys Book 6
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This volume also introduces us to Kakuta, a manga artist who is given life in prison for publishing a work deemed dangerous by the government. He is sent to Umihotaru Prison on a manmade island in Tokyo Bay. He ends up in solitary confinement his first day at the prison and meets The Monster, the only person to survive in solitary since the prison was opened 14 years ago.

20the Century Boys continues to be as suspenseful and well-written as the first volume. Urasawa is a master of keeping us off balance as we read the series. He does this by moving between multiple storylines that take place not only in different locations, but even in different years. Just as we settle into one narrative track and think the pieces are coming together, Urasawa shifts the series’ focus and reveals new information that scrambles up the puzzle once again.

In the hands of a less skilled writer, this would be a frustrating experience; however, Urasawa is able to keep us engaged with each new story shift and revelation. He does this by firmly grounding the series in the daily realities of the central characters. We see Kana having to attend school and not fitting in because of her beliefs about the government. We watch as she works in a restaurant struggling to get by in the shady part of town. We follow Kakuta as he goes through the embarrassingly invasive check-in and indoctrination at the prison. While this may be an epic story about saving the world, it’s not done in the “high adventure and exotic locale” style of James Bond. Our heroes have to make a living and pay rent.

As I mentioned in my review of volume four, Urasawa pulls his cast from the outskirts of society. Our unlikely heroes in this volume are a transvestite entertainer and an imprisoned manga artist. Society would write off Britney as a weird man in a dress. Kakuta would be another inmate claiming he didn’t do anything wrong. Urasawa doesn’t give us the luxury to be dismissive of these men. We spend time getting to know and care about both of them. By the end of the book, we can no longer reduce either to a simple stereotype. Urasawa demonstrates the humanity and dignity of all people regardless of their social circumstances.

Urasawa’s decompressed storytelling style gives the art room to be an equal narrative partner. To convey how dark and depressing Umihotaru Prison is, Urasawa chooses a two-page layout that takes us from outside the prison to the dungeon of solitary confinement. Also, Urasawa knows how to play to his strengths. Flipping through the book, you’ll notice there are lots of facial close-ups; this is because Urasawa knows he can portray any emotion. In a dialogue-intensive volume like this one, he uses that skill to make character emotions and personalities leap off the page and impact the reader. I can’t imagine how many paragraphs of description would be needed to convey all the interpersonal complexity of a scene that Urasawa aptly communicates in one panel.

20th Century Boys is a thoroughly satisfying read, and I anxiously look forward to each new volume. Urasawa never fails to come up with surprising new twists. I love how he always keeps me on the edge of my seat. Urasawa is one of the comic masters, making us rethink the vocabulary of novels. Where once we talked about how great novelists had command of the written language, now we have to talk about great novelists who have command of sequential art. He takes us closer to the day when graphic novels will be seen on par with their text-only brethren. Until then, he will be the secret treasure of those that don’t discriminate based on use of art.

The book opens with the unexpected suicide of Charles Germonprez’s son Jack. He jumps off the top of their apartment building and dies on the front stoop. Charles and his wife find out when the police show up at their door to notify them of the death. For several days, Charles has to walk past the chalk outline of his son to leave the building. We see the devastating effects that Jack’s death has on Charles and the various heartbreaking ways he tries to come to terms with the loss of his beloved son.

Years of the Elephant
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As Paul Gravett points out in his introduction, Linthout tells the story of Charles’ grief without any of the traditional narrative tools. There is no narration in the book, no text boxes to indicate how much time passes between each event, not even signals to indicate when we have moved between Charles’ imagination and the real world. In a sense, we are getting a raw look at Charles’ grief. This can be disorienting at times, and I had to read through the book twice to really get a handle on what was actually happening.

For example, early in the book, Charles thinks that he is handling Jack’s death very well and doesn’t believe that it’s had much of an effect on him. So what I assume is the next day, Charles heads off to work. Things start out normal enough. Suddenly, Charles hears his boss cluck like a chicken. During a meeting, Charles is convinced his boss is sitting on something and then realizes it’s an egg. He tells one of his co-workers the boss is laying eggs and hiding them in his office. Naturally, the co-worker thinks he’s joking. Later, Charles sneaks into the boss’ office and sees all these eggs, which then hatch into mini versions of his boss. Charles’ delusion is presented as if it’s really happening. Only after you’ve completely read through the event and see his co-worker’s reactions are you able to separate fact from fantasy.

Part of my lack of understanding is because Charles’ experiences are far outside the range of my own. I’m not a father, so I can’t image what it would be like to lose a son, let alone one under such tragic circumstances. I’ve never know anyone who was so devastated they were literally driven mad by grief.

I don’t want to imply that this book isn’t well-written or emotionally gripping. Linthout is a master storyteller and effectively communicates Charles’ soul-numbing anguish and the psychosis he suffers as a result of his grief. It’s not a pleasant story. Linthout doesn’t temper the tragedy with humor like Azuma did with Disappearance Diary. This is a straightforward tale of a bizarre time in Charles’ life, and the reader needs to be prepared for anything to happen.

The artwork is left in the rough pencil stages. Linthout has chosen not to ink the final solid pencil lines or erase the rough guide lines. Normally, I find this style of art very off-putting; however, it works here because it matches the raw narrative style. Perfect art would distract, if not outright contradict, the emotional honesty of the book. The art itself is effective in communicating the mood of each sub-story. Flipping through the book, you can easy tell what Charles is feeling in each panel by the drawings alone.

Years of the Elephant is haunting. It’s a book that takes time to process and so lingers with you after you’re finished reading. What makes the book all the more poignant is that it’s based on Linthout’s own experiences of having a son commit suicide. Linthout has let us see into a dark time in his life. He has done so with honesty and humility. He doesn’t make excuses for Charles’ behavior or attempt to sugar-coat his grief. The book offers no answers to those grieving. Linthout simply shares his own experiences as way of sympathizing. For those that find themselves in similar circumstances, there is a list of links to find help in coping with loss. Years of the Elephant is a moving book that offered me a glimpse into another man’s soul, and I hope I’ve come away a more sympathetic person.

A You is 19 years old and dissatisfied with the general direction of his life. He believes that he has no skills, no luck, and no hope of things getting better. His friends and family try to cheer him up, but he finds no consolation in their words. A You quits his job, then heads out to the country for a day trip to clear his head. During a rainstorm, he takes shelter in a large hollow tree and falls asleep. When A You wakes up, he finds that the tree opens up into a different world. A small green man (reminiscent of Yoda) tells A You that he can return to his own world when he has found the answers to his problems.

An Ideal World is a coming-of-age story with a moral lesson for both A You and the reader. We are told that being an adult means taking charge of your life and yourself. Furthermore, we are told that happiness comes from finding out what truly brings you joy and pursuing that regardless of your circumstances. For example, if dancing is your passion, you can pursue it even if you’re a janitor. You simply turn cleaning into a form of dance. So you have no one to blame but yourself for the way your life has turned out. I don’t disagree with the basic philosophy behind An Ideal World, I just wish the authors were more subtle in conveying that message.

An Ideal World
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The first third of the book is the toughest to get through. A You is depressed about his current circumstances. The authors are trying hard to connect with a younger generation they feel has fallen into despair about their lives. However, it’s hard to take A You’s ennui seriously. He lives with his parents, and he has caring friends and a very forgiving boss. We’re told that in this month alone, he has taken eight days off, worked eleven half days, and shown up late sixteen times. How does he still have a job?! So when A You thinks, “Anyone who could understand my silent suffering would bring a shining torch into the depths of darkness I was wandering through,” my initial reaction was that the authors were being ironic, but that mood didn’t fit with the story up to this point. So I literally had to stop and convince myself they were being sincere. The disconnect between the reality of A You’s life and his negative perceptions was just too much to take so matter-of-factly.

The story’s pace and readability improve once you get past A You’s dark night of the soul. Part of the appeal of the rest of the book is that you get to meet a host of fascinating characters set in an amazing fantasy world. The moralizing can still be heavy at times, but thankfully, there is more emphasis on the storytelling, so it’s easier to overlook this flaw. A You’s mood also brightens as he gets caught up in the wonder of this new world and its possibilities. He becomes likable and slightly sympathetic in this new setting. It feels like the authors are writing more naturally instead of pedagogically, and the story benefits significantly from that change.

This is a full-color book, and the art is gorgeous. Peng and Chen are terrific at character design and world building. The book opens in a crowded and overdeveloped city; the drawings make you feel claustrophobic as A You walks the streets. By contrast, the city of the fantasy world is spacious with lots of green areas and low buildings that allow plenty of open sky. (In fact, the fantasy city reminded me of the city in Kiki’s Delivery Service.) I enjoy good fantasy art, and there’s lots of eye candy for me to feast on. In fact, I bought this book because it had an eye-catching cover and I was impressed with the art when I flipped through the book.

An Ideal World is a book with a lot of wasted potential. Peng and Chen have good storytelling instincts; unfortunately, they ignored them in favor of creating a book with a message. Honestly, you could ignore the first third of this book, and it would be a much more satisfying read. If Peng and Chen ever write a pure fantasy story, I’d love to read it, since that’s where their talents truly lie. As Tolkien and Lewis have taught us, you can craft great fantasy stories that also subtly convey powerful and relevant messages. If Pen and Chen took lessons from these two master storytellers, they might create truly amazing comics. Until they do, we have only this flawed attempt.

Kaze Hikaru Book 13

Kaze Hikaru Book 13
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by Taeko Watanabe; adapted by Mai Ihara
Viz, $8.99 US

Kaze Hikaru is a historical drama taking place in the 1860s. The central character is Kamiya Seizaburo (birth name Tominaga Sei), a girl disguised as a boy and a member of the Shinsengumi. She’s chosen this life to be closer to the man she loves, Okita Soji. Okita is focused on being a great warrior and has no time for a woman who doesn’t share his passion for the samurai lifestyle. The Shinsengumi is a band of warriors dedicated to protecting the Shogun. They’re moving their headquarters from the Mibu Village to the Roukujo area of Kyoto. This volume focuses on the group getting their new headquarters set up and the need to recruit new members.

I haven’t read the previous 12 volumes of this manga. This volume turned out to be a good place in the story for a newcomer to sample the series. The Shinsengumi’s move to a new location meant that the local places and people were as new to the characters as to the reader. Also, with the group settling into to a new building, you got a sense of the internal organization of the Shinsengumi and some of the relationships between members.

As expected in shojo, there is a lot of focus on interpersonal relationships within the Shinsengumi. There is, of course, the central romance, but there are also some alluded-to couplings among the men. The leader of the Shinsengumi is the older brother of a troop leader, and their soured relationship is a major portion of this volume.

The art is well done, but it looks more typical of the style found in shonen instead of shojo. The page layouts are more traditional. There is the occasional panel that has the shojo flare of showing the character’s emotional state, but they are pretty rare. Since the Shinsengumi is committed to the samurai code of Bushido, typical shojo art would be out of place in this series. Watanabe has chosen to make the art more realistic to keep in tone with the historical realism of the storytelling.

Kaze Hikaru is well-written with interesting characters and a steadily moving plot. Fans of historical dramas will find this a good series to pick up. Bookstores don’t always carry earlier volumes of long-running series, so this is a perfect recent volume to pick up to give you a flavor of the series. The back cover makes a comparison to Rurouni Kenshin, and fans of that series might want to see if they like this one as well.

Detroit Metal City Book 3

Detroit Metal City Book 3
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by Kiminori Wakasugi; adapted by Annus Itchii (Anne Ishii)
Viz Signature, $12.99 US

Negishi continues his dual life. His true desire is to record upbeat alternative acoustic pop. However, he is currently in Detroit Metal City (DMC), a heavy metal band notorious in Japan for its hardcore metal stage show. The band is quickly gaining buzz among heavy metal fans outside Japan. Jack Ill Dark’s daughter, Kenny, has put together the premier world heavy metal festival. She wants to determine who the true global kings of heavy metal are, now that her father has been defeated by DMC. Naturally, Negishi doesn’t want to be part of the festival, but DMC really can’t say no.

Detroit Metal City is a series where you can figure out if you’re a fan within one or two chapters. Either you find the crude humor and Negishi’s identity struggle funny or not. I can’t imagine anyone reading the previous two volumes of this series and still being on the fence. That said, if you’re a fan of the series, volume three delivers more of the same. If you’re not a fan of the series, then volume three has nothing to change your mind.

My only worry with this series is how quickly it’s escalating. In three volumes, we gone from DMC having to prove they’re true metal, to proving they are the most metal band in Japan, to proving they can take down a heavy metal legend, to now having to prove they are the most metal band in the world. If DMC wins Kenny’s festival, where does the series go from there? Do space aliens come challenge DMC for the title of most metal band in the galaxy?

Most interesting in this volume is watching the changes in Negishi’s personal life. You get a sense that Negishi isn’t a very good acoustic pop musician anymore. He may have made waves in college among his friends, but most current fans of the genre don’t like his stuff. Also, the Lord Krauser II part of Negishi’s personality is becoming more dominant. Will Negishi simply become Krauser permanently, or will he find a balance?

The artwork is as consistent as the storytelling. The heavy metal festival gives Wakasugi an opportunity to come up with more great designs for heavy metal bands. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to know which bands are being parodied in this series. The art works perfectly with the series.

Detroit Metal City continues to be a guilty pleasure of mine. If you can go along with the absurd premise and crude humor, it’s a rewarding read. I think volumes four and five will determine the long-term sustainability of the series. I look forward to the conclusion of the festival story arc and what comes next.

St. Dragon Girl Book 4

St. Dragon Girl Book 4
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by Natsumi Matsumoto; adapted by Heidi Vivolo
Viz, $8.99 US

Momoka Sendou and Ryuga Kou continue their adventures as demon fighters. The major challenge this volume is Yutengenyo, a disciple of the black dragon. She hopes to waken the black dragon and merge with it, like Momoka has merged with a dragon. But awaking the black dragon will literally destroy the town that Momoka and Ryuga live in. It will also upset the yin-yang balance in the world and more destruction will follow.

St. Dragon Girl continues to be a refreshing, wholesome read for me. As I mentioned previously, the modesty of the character’s dress make for a nice change of pace from the fan service rampant in so much manga published here in the US.

Of course, I still find Ryuga a frustrating character. He still refuses to admit to himself or Momoka how much he cares for and actually loves her. Of course, he can play it so cool because Momoka wears her affection for him on her sleeve. I do find it a bit twisted how he strings along such a wonderful girl. Someone needs to smack that smug attitude right out of him. I hope it happens soon.

The artwork is excellent, as usual. Matsumoto has a real gift for drawing elf-like characters. I was struck by how beautiful and ethereal her magical beings look. The art has a “feel good” quality with lots of energy. I do wish that Viz would print the color pages in color for this series.

St. Dragon Girl continues to be a delight to read. I look forward to future volumes.

Dogs: Bullets & Carnage Book 1

Dogs: Bullets & Carnage Book 1
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by Shirow Miwa; adapted by Alexis Kirsch
Viz Signature, $12.99 US

Badou and Heine are detectives/bounty hunters. The book opens with them rescuing a group of young mutant children from been sold as fetish toys. Heine finds that he is being targeted by someone who keeps sending underground thugs after him. Next, we are introduced to Ms. Naoto, who has come to the bad part of town looking for someone, a person who welds a katana identical to her own.

Dogs is an action series set in a dystopic near future. Ecological, economic, technological, and political disasters have made a mess of the world. Surprisingly, even though the book is filled with a lot of fight scenes, there is a very understated tone to the series. There is none of the bombast and bravado seen in Hollywood action films. Badou, Heine, and Ms. Naoto don’t taunt their opponents before, after, or during the fight scenes. All three are highly proficient fighters and killers, but they don’t derive pleasure from the death of their enemies.

We don’t get to know any of the main characters very well in this book. Instead, we are given hints and clues to their backgrounds. There is just enough information conveyed to whet the appetite and make the reader hungry for the second volume. Despite this lack of knowledge, Miwa is able to create intriguing and likable characters. Perhaps it’s the classic appeal of the mysterious stranger who does good, while radiating a dark past, that draws us in.

The character designs are excellent. The action sequences move quickly and are bursting with energy. However, there isn’t a lot of tone work. Usually, tones are reserved for clothing. Shadows tend to be done in solid black. Characters are often shown against monotone backgrounds. There is a sparse feel to the art that adds to the overall understated tone of the book.

Dogs caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting such sophistication from an action series. I should have known better, since this part of the Viz Signature imprint instead of the Shonen Jump label. With only a couple of exceptions, I have found the Viz Signature books to be great titles aimed at mature readers. They don’t pander to the lowest common denominator. It’s action for people who aren’t wowed simply by big explosions and cheesy, tough guy one-liners. I certainly will be picking up volume two.

Photographer Makoto Fukamachi was a member of a failed Japanese expedition trying to scale Mt. Everest. While lingering behind at the base of the mountain, Fukamachi encounters Jouji Habu, a famous mountain climber who had left Japan and simply disappeared one day. Fukamachi tries to get to know him better, but Habu will have nothing to do with Fukamachi. When Fukamachi returns to Japan, he can’t get the mystery of Habu out of his mind. He decides to investigate Habu’s past to find out why such a revered and famous climber decided to live in obscurity at the base of Mt. Everest.

The Summit of the Gods Book 1
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On one level, The Summit of the Gods is a study of obsession. The book opens with the failed Mallory and Irvine Mt. Everest expedition of 1924. Next, we have Fukamachi’s obsessions, first, with the Mallory and Irvine expedition, then about Jouji Habu. There is Habu’s obsession with proving himself through mountain climbing. Finally, there is the obsession of mountain climbers to conquer Mt. Everest.

Although the book is told from Fukamachi’s perspective, the true focus of the narrative in this volume is Habu. Habu was injured in a car crash and so walks with a slight limp. He chooses mountain climbing as a way to prove he’s capable of overcoming any limitations. He drives himself to scale more difficult mountains in the most difficult conditions. He’s not happy to simply conquer a notoriously difficult mountainside; he has to do it in winter.

Habu’s focus and drive leads to him quickly becoming famous among Japanese mountain climbers. He is considered a genius at discovering the quickest way to the top of a mountain. Fellow climbers admire his grace and ease scaling very daunting mountains. However, he is not happy with the adulation of his countrymen. He is frustrated that there is no Japanese mountain climber ranked among the world’s greatest, and he determines to be the first. But even that isn’t enough: he wants to be the greatest living mountain climber in the world.

In truth, Habu isn’t a likeable character. He doesn’t talk much. He only engages in social activities because he needs to maintain a minimum level of friendship with other climbers so he’s able to recruit people to be his partners. He doesn’t have any respect or regard for people who don’t share his climbing skills. You need the buffer of Fukamachi to give you a break from Habu’s single-mindedness and to put events in context. Yet, Habu’s obsession is quite compelling and you want to see where his passion is leading him and how he ended up living in obscurity in Nepal.

As usual, Taniguchi’s artwork is breathtaking. His landscapes are gorgeous. You get a sense of the majesty of the mountains and their danger at the same time. He makes mountain climbing look arduous. You see the strain and fatigue as Habu scales each vertical mountainside. Taniguchi’s attention to detail is perfect for this story. You understand the appeal of mountain climbing, but also how deadly it can be.

What is most captivating in the artwork is the faces. This is Taniguchi’s best work on faces that I’ve seen yet. He’s able to convey a wide range of complex emotions for Fukamachi and Habu. It’s all centered on the eyes. The character’s eyes really stand out and draw your attention. There is so much life and emotion that you feel like you’re looking into a real person’s eyes. I often found myself stopping and just staring at the a close-up of Fukamachi’s or Habu’s face, trying to imagine what they’re thinking and feeling.

This is also the first time I’ve ever had any complaints with Taniguchi’s art. There are about half a dozen panels where the character’s face is off. The first panel on page 21 is a good example. It’s a small panel where the main figure is standing several feet from the viewer. Fukamachi’s nose is just an odd triangle, and his head is misshapen. Because of how well done the faces generally are in this book, these few flawed panels stick out badly. I’m amazed no one caught these mistakes during the production process.

The Summit of the Gods is an engaging book. I look forward to the second volume. Baku has created great characters, even if they aren’t the most likable. You get sucked into Habu’s almost maniac quest to be the greatest living mountain climber. You want to know how he ended up in Nepal. The book leaves a lot of large loose narrative threads for the next book to pick up. I want to see how they all get woven together and what the tapestry will look like when the story is complete. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Hiroshi Nakahara is a 48-year-old architect who finds himself mysterious transported back to when he was 14 with all his knowledge and memories intact. He soon realizes that this is the period just before his father mysteriously abandoned his family, and he has resolved to stop him. Since Hiroshi has already successfully altered portions of his past, he’s confident he can make this change, too.

As a 42-year-old male living the daily grind in the business world, I could sympathize with Hiroshi immediately. At its heart, this book is about one man’s middle-age crisis and the miraculous circumstances that show him his own flaws and shortcomings. Johanna previously reviewed volume one.

A Distant Neighborhood Book 2
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Volume one focused on Hiroshi adjusting to being 14 again and taking joy in being young and carefree. Initially, Hiroshi gets lost in reliving his youth, enjoying the benefits an additional 34 years of experience give him. In this volume, Hiroshi is now focused on discovering why his father left so he can take measures to prevent it. It’s here that we learn how little Hiroshi really knows about his parents.

I found it odd that Hiroshi didn’t even know how his parents first met, or how they came to be married. Perhaps it’s both generational and cultural differences. Hiroshi’s parents are from the more traditional Japanese society prior to World War II. Since most marriages were arranged then, maybe it was just assumed that everyone got married that way, so Hiroshi never thought to ask. Only when he thinks that information may help him stop his father does he finally ask.

Hiroshi’s lack of information about his parents’ backgrounds points to a fundamental selfishness in his character. We see this in the flash-forwards to moments of his adult life. Hiroshi likes to frequent hostess bars, where he tells the women how he is a stranger in his own home. That’s truer than he knows. He has no clue his older daughter has been seriously dating someone or that his younger daughter hates his drinking habit. His energies are focused on his business and the socializing that maintaining a successful business requires in Japan. Married life isn’t exciting anymore. He began thinking a new wife will help revitalize his life.

What Hiroshi is going through is common to all middle-aged men. We feel the weight of time in our bodies, in our lives, in our memories, and even in our souls. We don’t have the physical endurance we used to have. We begin to measure memories in decades instead of months or years. Death is no longer so far in the future it seems an illusion. At times, it feels like death is right around the corner. Our self-image has to change from that of the young man/son to the older man/father. Some fight it with hair plugs, fancy cars, mistresses, moving to a new city, or new wives. Others are fortunate enough to make the transition gracefully. Hiroshi’s father hit this crisis early and left his family around age 38. Hiroshi is in danger of making the same mistake.

The conversation Hiroshi has with his father, Yoshio, at the train station makes this all poignantly clear. Yoshio thinks that his life has all been programmed out for him. It sounds so convincing when you first hear him explain it, but a moment of thought, and the facade shatters. While it’s true his parents chose to apprentice him to a tailor, after the war, Yoshio had a chance to choose a new profession. He didn’t. He made the choice to pursue a relationship with Hiroshi’s mother. When it became clear she wouldn’t be able to leave town with him, Yoshio chose to stay. What he really chose was the path of least resistance, and now he regrets it. But instead of seeing the bounty before him, he thinks a better harvest is just beyond the horizon. Hiroshi can’t stop Yoshio, because he is having the same dissatisfaction with his own life. His father stands before him as a mirror to his own soul.

Hiroshi realizes that while he may not have physically abandoned his family, he has emotionally and mentally abandoned them. He has been using alcohol and visits to the hostess clubs to take breaks from his wife and daughters. If he continues as he’s been going, it will only be a matter of time before he convinces himself that his drunk delusions of loneliness are reality. Then he too will leave his family in search of something better over the mystical horizon. Hiroshi breaks the cycle of his father by choosing to see how wonderful his family truly is and to reconnect to them. He chooses their real love, with all its flaws, instead of a romantic fantasy.

Taniguchi’s art is amazing. I’ve been a huge fan since I first saw it years ago. His delicate line work, realistic style, and meticulous details work perfectly for this story. He uses standard grid page layouts, and I wonder if he did so because Hiroshi is an architect. Taniguchi is such a skilled artist that he doesn’t need unusual page designs to convey the complex emotions of this characters. He’s able to show it in their faces. The angst, heartbreak, joy, love, disappointment, surprise, etc. is all there. Just flip through the book and you immediately know the emotional tone of the page by looking at the faces. It’s a clean, straight-forward style that is a pleasure to the eyes.

A Distant Neighborhood is an incredible book, a fresh take on the old lesson of appreciating the people right in front of you. The end is both hopeful and realistic, as Hiroshi has no illusion about the work it will take to reconnect with his family. Taniguchi continues to be my first choice as a gateway to manga for new readers. The artwork is very accessible to American readers. His stories are very Japanese in execution, but the themes are universal. I wish I could afford to buy hundreds of copies to hand out at comic conventions. His work deserves a much wider audience than it currently has. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Alex Treveney has just enrolled to be a student at Nightschool #13W, but her interests are less academic and more personal. Her older sister Sarah was the Night Keeper for the school and has recently disappeared. Worse, no one but Alex seems to have any memory of Sarah at all. The only way Alex could get access to the school, and look for her sister was by becoming a student. However, Sarah’s disappearance is connected to larger events going on in the supernatural world, a world that Alex only has limited knowledge of. Her education is going to be much greater than she realizes.

Nightschool Book 2
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Volume two of Nightschool is more focused and character-driven than volume one. Thankfully, with all the major world-building out of the way, the story’s pace has slowed. We’re still introduced to a few new characters, but they arise more naturally out of the story’s context. Also, we see how the various narrative strands introduced in volume one fit together and are really facets of the grand narrative of the series. With this volume, the reader no longer feels overwhelmed by information.

As the volume summary illustrates, Alex is the central character of the series. Her story takes up the bulk of volume two. Not surprisingly, she is the most developed character we’ve met so far.

Alex is a young teen now forced to fend for herself. She’s at that age when she is trying to define herself and discovering new things about herself at the same time. Thus, she is both self-assured and filled with doubts. We are given hints that she has tremendous abilities; apparently, even she isn’t aware of the extent of her powers. For example, I love the incident in the astral training class. It sums up Alex in one scene, beautifully illustrating the depth of her relationship with her sister, her arrogance, her doubts, and her potential. The flashback and the pages that follow are particularly moving.

The other major storyline in this volume focuses on the group of witches known as the hunters. They are recovering from their encounters in volume one and trying to understand everything that happened in the cemetery. There are two great mysteries that need to be solved. In case they don’t have enough on their plates, they are also having problems with the werewolf clan. Unfortunately, the ensemble is too large for there to be much character development in this storyline. We do discover that several of the hunters are students at the school Alex enrolled in. Hopefully, as they interact with Alex more they will become more fleshed out.

Svetlana’s artwork continues to delight. The color pages are a nice bonus; I wish there were more of them. Her page layouts are exceptional. The page design is clean and makes for easy, quick reading. The splash pages perfectly capture a moment. Svetlana does a great job creating an urban fantasy environment. The common reality we are all live in serves as the foundation for the visual look. She layers the supernatural elements on top of this framework. Her restrain in adding magical elements is refreshing and makes the world more believable.

Volume two of Nightschool shows improvement over the previous volume. The slower pace allows the plot and characters the room they need to blossom. Readers will find this volume much easier to follow and thus more satisfying. Also, we’re finally given the time needed to connect with Alex. However, just as we’ve settled in and become captivated by the story, the book ends. There’s a wonderful cliffhanger that leaves you craving more. Svetlana has found her rhythm with volume two, and the rest of the series promises to be an engaging read. I look forward to volume three to see how the story and Svetlana continue to develop.

The NY Times graphic novel gift guide didn’t list any manga. This upset the manga reviewing community. In an effort to correct the oversight, several sites have agreed to put together their own manga gift guides. Posted just in time for Black Friday, here are my selections for the holiday season.

1. Pluto
2. 20th Century Boys
3. Yotsuba
4. My Mommy Is in America and She Met Buffalo Bill
5. The Art of Osamu Tezuka
6. xxxHolic
7. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles
8. Starting Point: 1979-1996
9. Mushishi
10. Detroit Metal City

Most of these are pretty obvious, if you’ve been following my or Johanna’s reviews. I’ll give a brief explanation of the rest.

First, I know My Mommy isn’t manga, but it’s bound to be overlooked in most graphic novel gift-giving guides. It’s an odd stepchild, a French comic that was published by a company known for manga. This is the best kid’s book I’ve read this year and needs more recognition.

Second, The Art of Osamu Tezuka is a wonderful book by Helen McCarthy that I picked up recently. It is the best of both worlds, a gorgeous coffee table book with solid exposition into the manga of Osamu Tezuka. Plus, the DVD included is simply jaw-dropping. I hope to do a full review in the future.

Finally, I want to take a moment to recognize two book lines for overall excellent. You can’t go wrong getting any of the books from either Fanfare/Ponent Mon or the Viz Signature imprint. The Ponent Mon books are hard to find in brick-and-mortar bookstores, but Amazon has their books in stock. I’ve seen the Viz Signature items in several bookstores, so they’re easy to pick up as last-minute items. Make sure to pick up a book from both publishers for yourself and a reward for getting your holiday shopping done.

I wish everyone a safe, healthy, and joy-filled holiday season. I hope you’re surrounded by the love of family, friends, and pets (particularly cats). As a former Navy man, special holiday wishes to those who will be away from home serving our country.

For more manga gift guides, check out this list of participants. The project was inspired by David Welsh’s suggestion, and his list is one of the best.

Tezuka and Astro Boy as a stamp

This has been a good year for English-language Osama Tezuka fans. Vertical is printing his Black Jack series in beautiful editions. DMP published Tezuka’s experimental manga, Swallowing the Earth. Frederick Schodt is touring the country with his lecture on the life and legacy of Tezuka. Two new books about the life and works of Tezuka were published this year too, God of Comics and The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga.

To cap it all off, the Smithsonian’s Freer Gallery of Art is hosting a month long celebration of Tezuka’s animated works, Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga, Father of Anime. This past weekend marked the inauguration of the event, which I was fortunate enough to attend.

Introducing Astro Boy

The weekend began with a lecture by Frederick Schodt at 7:00 PM on Friday, November 13, entitled “Introducing Astro Boy”. This was similar to the lecture he gave at Otakon. Tezuka, born in 1928, is called the God of Manga in Japan, and some are also referring to him as the Father of Anime. He attended medical school and actually received his license, but he never practiced. He liked to joke that one of his medical professors told him it was a good thing for his patients that he became a manga artist.

Frederick Schodt

Obviously, manga existed before Tezuka. However, Tezuka heavily influenced post-World War II manga by introducing new visual styles and storytelling techniques. Tezuka was himself influenced by Disney and the Fleischer brothers. He brought the cinematic style he saw in their cartoons to manga and made popular a more decompressed style of storytelling. Tezuka also helped introduce sophisticated themes into children’s manga.

Astro Boy made his first appearance in a short side story titled Captain Atom. There was such a positive response to the story, Tezuka’s editor convinced him to make Captain Atom a star of his own series. Tezuka completely retooled the character and the story. When the robot boy reappeared he had a new name to signal his new beginning, The Mighty Atom (Astro Boy to American audiences). The series was immediately a success. Astro Boy went on to become a symbol of science and technology in Japan. He is still a much beloved character today

In 1957, a kamishibai based on Astro Boy was made. In 1959, a short-lived live-action Astro Boy TV show was created. (Fred said this is so bad, it’s good.) Finally, in 1962, Tezuka had enough money to form his own animation company, Mushi Productions. In January 1963, the Astro Boy animated TV show premiered. It was the first half-hour weekly animated series on Japanese TV. Astro Boy became a national phenomenon. The whole family would gather around the TV set to watch the show. Executives from NBC saw the show and licensed it for syndication in the US, where Astro Boy premiered in select areas in September 1963.

Following the lecture, there were four episodes of the original Astro Boy anime series aired, all directed by Tezuka, including the first and last episodes of the series. Afterward, there was a short Q&A session. Fred said that Tezuka was embarrassed by the original Astro Boy series, because of the crude animation. However, you can see a noticeable improvement in the animation between the first episode and the last.

The Film Is Alive

Saturday’s schedule began at 2:00 PM with a short documentary entitled The Film Is Alive. This was a 45-minute film that examined Tezuka’s career as an animator, starting with his first experimental film in 1962 and ending with his last film, another experimental short, made before his death in 1989. This was an amazing documentary that revealed a dimension to Tezuka that I never knew existed.

Tezuka was responsible for several animated TV shows, feature-length films, and short experimental movies. Tezuka loved animation and wanted Japanese animation to be better known globally. He became an ambassador for anime by attending animation festivals around the world and getting international animation festivals hosted in Japan. His passion was experimentation. He loved exploring what was possible with animation both visually and from a storytelling perspective, using various styles and techniques. The one constant in all his animation was that was all hand-drawn. He didn’t like computer animation.

L to R: Natsu Onoda Power, Ada Palmer, Helen McCarthy, Frederick Schodt, moderator (sorry forget to write the name down.)

After the film, there was a panel discussion driven by questions from the audience. The four panelists were:

• Natsu Onoda Power, visiting professor at Georgetown University and author of God of Comics: Osamu Tezuka and the Creation of Post-World War II Manga
• Ada Palmer, professor at Texas A&M and founder of the website Tezuka in English. She has an essay on Tezuka in the forthcoming Anime and Philosophy, edited by Josef Steiff and Tristan D. Tamplin
• Helen McCarthy, author of The Art of Osamu Tezuka: God of Manga
• Frederick Schodt, author of The Astro Boy Essays: Osamu Tezuka, Mighty Atom, and the Manga/Anime Revolution

Initially, they began by discussing Tezuka’s influence. It turns out that his influence extends beyond just manga and anime. His works were, and continue to be, the inspiration for many scientists and doctors pursuing the careers they currently have. Several prominent roboticists in Japan have admitted they still dream of building Astro Boy.

Like everyone else of his generation, World War II was the defining event of Tezuka’s life. It shaped his desire to promote the positive, productive uses of technology over the destructive applications he had experienced. It also influenced his feminism. He saw Japanese women having to take on traditionally male roles and jobs during the war while the men were fighting abroad. (Helen says seeing his mother in these roles was the inspiration for the character Princess Knight.) The realities of war fueled his pacifism. And his experiences with American soldiers during the occupation helped shape his belief in racial equality.

Tezuka often said that manga was his wife and anime was his mistress. Tezuka could spend lavishly on experimental animation projects. Fred said that because he was so open to play with the form of animation, his animated works are often uneven and undisciplined. Ada pointed out that Tezuka approached animation like a clinical researcher. He was always testing new ideas and probing to explore limitations. He didn’t have any boundaries to what he was willing to try.

Tezuka’s star system probably grew out of his love for theater and early Hollywood movies. Growing up, his father would import movies and cartoons from America. His mother often took him to plays at the Takarazuka Theater. Tezuka created a stock group of characters that appeared throughout his manga, like actors assuming roles in a play or movie. This allowed him to create new series much more quickly, since all the character designs were finished.

Marine Express

Sunday also began with a film at 2:00 PM. This time it was a made-for-TV animated movie, Marine Express (1979) written by Tezuka himself and produced by Tezuka Productions. The Marine Express is an underwater train that runs from Los Angeles to Tokyo. Private detective Ban Shunsaku has been hired by the chief engineer to investigate his suspicions about illegal activities involving the train’s maiden voyage. However, Shunsaku arrives to find the chief engineer dead. He later spots the killer boarding the Marine Express and follows him onto the train. What follows is a murder mystery combined with a crime thriller mixed with a disaster film that morphs into a time travel adventure with invading space aliens. It’s a wild ride for both the train passengers and the viewing audience. Featured is most of the ensemble from Tezuka’s star system.

Following the film was a brief discussion by Helen McCarthy and Frederick Schodt. Helen loved the film, calling it sheer silliness. Fred said the film is the ultimate in-joke for Tezuka fans. He said it is a great foreshadowing of postmodern deconstructional storytelling. Amazingly, Tezuka insisted on drawing every key frame involving Black Jack. This was a film that the entire family could enjoy, as parents and children talk about the characters and which series they remember each one from.

Thoughts on the Weekend

My only disappointment the entire weekend was with the audience size. On Friday night, there were about 160 people in attendance. Saturday, the audience had dropped to a mere 80. Sunday, the number plummeted to a dismal 40 people. I was embarrassed that such great guests spoke to such a meager crowd. I know that the anime festival held during last year’s Cherry Blossom Festival packed the 300-seat theater. I don’t know why this event failed to draw a similar audience. Hopefully, the rest of the Tezuka events will attract a larger crowd.

Overall, it was a wonderful weekend that showed me new depths to the man Tezuka and his works. I now have an even more profound respect and appreciate for Tezuka. I didn’t have any idea about his experimental animation films. All the guests were magnificent and I would like to see Otakon, New York Anime Festival, Anime Boston, and the other East Coast conventions book them to speak. Tezuka really is Jack Kirby, Stan Lee, Walt Disney, and Max Fleischer all rolled up into one person. He is such a formative force in manga and anime that all fans of both media need to be familiar with Tezuka and his works. Hopefully, events like the Smithsonian’s Tezuka Film Retrospective will be a start to make that happen.

Maria Holic Book 1

Maria Holic Book 1
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by Minari Endou; adapted by Clint Brickham; Tokyopop, $10.99 US

Kanako Miyamae is a high school sophomore transferring to Ame No Kisaki, an all-girl missionary school. Kanako is a lesbian, but she isn’t comfortable enough with her sexuality to be tell others her orientation. She transferred with romantic visions of meeting her soulmate. While there is no shortage of attractive girls, Kanako is discovering that a pretty face doesn’t mean a beautiful soul.

Maria Holic is meant to be a farce, a broad stroke comedy that satirizes the tropes found in shojo and yuri manga. However, it reads like a bigot openly mocking people who aren’t ‘normal’. Lesbians, transvestites, tomboys, and such are all targets of ridicule.

Not surprisingly, all the characters in this book are one-dimensional. When you’re mocking someone, there’s no need to understand them or cast them in a sympathetic light. Kanako walks around ogling her classmates and falling in love based on the most superficial reasons. Her classmates don’t figure out she’s a lesbian simply because it’s not convenient to the plot. It’s certainly not from a lack of clues.

The artwork is the only likable part of the book. It’s competent. The character designs are nice. The page layouts are well-done. It does have a feature that I don’t think I’ve seen before in manga: panels of just word balloons. There aren’t many, but it’s still unusual.

Maria Holic is odious. I had to force myself to finish the last quarter of the book. Turning each page seemed to become more of a chore the closer I got to the end. Avoid this book and its condescension. Comedy shouldn’t make the reader feel tainted and disgusted. Comedy is meant to uplift us.

Samurai Harem: Asu No Yoichi Book 2

Samurai Harem: Asu No Yoichi Book 2
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by Yu Minamoto; adapted by Hope Donovan; Tokyopop, $12.99 US

Yoichi Karasuma spent the first seventeen years of his life in a remote mountain dojo learning swordsmanship from his father. Now he is living with the Ikaruga sisters at their family dojo, where he is learning how to be a member of modern society. The hardest part is behaving properly around women. Two attractive female assassins show up to kill Yoichi. Yet another obstacle as he’s trying to just fit in.

The setup is derivative of Ranma ½ and Love Hina, which is indicative of the general lack of imagination found in Samurai Harem. The series is a harem comedy that focuses on the creepy aspects of the genre without any attempts to include the charming counterbalancing elements.

The best example of the disturbing nature of Samurai Harem is how the fan service specializes in crotch shots. Not panty shots, but in between the legs, focusing on the pubic region of girls and women. Just when you think the book might be showing some character development or emotional warmth, there is a crotch shot with a sound effect coming from the girl’s genitalia. The series is shameless in its tastelessness.

The artwork is very well-done. Minamoto is a master of cheesecake drawings. The loving details given to the female character designs and fashions only make the series that much more lecherous. Such talent should be used to illustrate a good romantic comedy, not banal fan service.

Only fans of unapologetic T&A manga will enjoy this series. The plot is rice paper thin. The characters are one-dimensional. Readers are advised to steer clear of Samurai Harem.

Zone-00 Book 1

Zone-00 Book 1
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by Kiyo Qjo; adapted by Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane; Tokyopop, $10.99 US

Ango Shima is an exorcist who has just moved to Tokyo. He is aided by his two assistants: Sharaku, also his butler, and Hanabusa, his maid. It turns out his very odd classmate, Saburo Kujo, is a leader of the Tokyo creatures (demons). Ango has come to destroy all the creatures but discovers he must team up with them to hunt down a common enemy. Someone has created Zone-00, a drug that turns humans into mock creatures.

Zone-00 is a mess, starting with the artwork. The panels are busy and often crowded. Qjo is trying to make the art feel energetic, but instead it’s chaotic. The page layouts suffer the same clutter problems. All the characters have unruly hair that like kudzu appears everywhere. The book is eye-straining to read.

Unfortunately, neither the characters nor plot are any improvement over the art. None of the cast is interesting. Everyone seems to spend a lot of time in inane conversation. They all want to prove how cool and sophisticated they are. However, it all comes across as silly and pretentious.

The plot moves at a glacial pace. They spend more time at bath houses and beaches then actually tracking down the drug dealers and manufacturers. For someone committed to the destruction of all creatures, Ango gets chummy quickly with his sworn enemy.

Zone-00 is victim to its own excesses. The art and storytelling need to be streamlined. Lost in all the muddle appears to be the makings of an interesting story. However, potential for a better story isn’t sufficient reason to recommend this series. Readers should skip Zone-00 in favor of a manga that is more focused.

Momogumi Plus Senki Book 1

Momogumi Plus Senki Book 1
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by Eri Sakondo; adapted by Rachel Brown; Tokyopop, $10.99 US

Yuuki Momozono is cursed with Disaster Attraction Disorder. This means that calamity haunts everything he does. He has just found out that he is the reincarnation of Momotaro (Peach Boy) from the famous Japanese folktale and inherited a demon curse from his previous life. He must break the curse causing his misfortunes before his eighteenth birthday or he will die. The school he has begun to attend is filled with students who are also reincarnations of various folk figures. There among his schoolmates is the chance to free himself of the curse.

Momogumi Plus Senki is an enjoyable light read. Sakondo has created a likable cast of central characters with Yuuki and his three companions: Sawa, Masahiko, and Yukishiro. Yuuki’s friends are all good-natured and readily accept their past lives without any conflict. Yuuki himself starts out as a depressed person, but the warmth and optimism of his new companions quickly win him over.

Part of the charm of this series is its sense of humor. Sakondo doesn’t allow any of the characters to take themselves too seriously. Sankondo also has fun with the personality of the cast. Masahiko is the reincarnation of Momotaro’s dog. He has the loyalty and affection of a puppy. He can let his canine enthusiasm get the better of him sometimes.

I also like how amenable the other students are to Yuuki’s bad luck. They know when he gets called on to answer questions, baseballs are bound to come soaring through the windows. So all the students sitting next to the windows have umbrellas to protect themselves from flying glass.

The art is well-done in this series. Sankondo does a good job conveying emotion. The action sequences are quick and lively. The humor has a nice subtle quality to it. The art complements the storytelling perfectly.

Momogumi Plus Senki is not a must read by any stretch of the imagination. However, it is a pleasant, upbeat series. It can serve as a break from heavier fare or just a good distraction. The way Sakondo plays with Japanese folktales makes me want to go read the originals. Readers already familiar with the folktales might enjoy seeing Sakondo’s fun twist on them.

(The publisher provided review copies of all books.)

Howard Lovecraft is not having a great Christmas. His father has been committed to a sanitarium. Understandably, his mother isn’t handling it well. However, there is one bright spot. On Christmas Eve, Howard’s mother gives him a book written by his father. Howard settles in to read and is immediately fascinated by the stories his dad tells. Then something unbelievable happens; a small teardrop-shaped hole opens in midair beside Howard’s bed. Someone is calling for help from inside the opening. Howard moves closer to investigate and is sucked through the hole. Suddenly, he finds himself standing on an icy plain with something charging toward him. Thus begins Howard’s adventures in the Frozen Kingdom.

Howard Lovecraft
and the Frozen Kingdom
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Howard Lovecraft and the Frozen Kingdom is meant to be an all-ages book based on the tales of H. P. Lovecraft. Through this book, young readers are introduced to some of the themes, places, and beings found in Lovecraft’s writing. Brown also blends into the story facts from Lovecraft’s life. Since this book is aimed at younger readers, I decided to have my eight-year-old nephew, Christopher, help with this review.

Frozen Kingdom is a good primer for the Lovecraft mythos. You get a feel for the environment the real Lovecraft grew up in. Lovecraft’s father did go insane when he was young and was committed to the local sanitarium. The book also successfully creates an atmosphere similar to a Lovecraft tale. This story has books of forbidden knowledge, seemly omnipotent beings from another dimension, and an ancient corrupt kingdom. Since this is aimed at younger readers, the story is less cerebral and more quickly paced than the standard Lovecraft tale. It feels less like a horror story and more like an adventure story as a result.

As an adult fan of Lovecraft, I think Brown and Podesta do the best job you can presenting Lovecraft’s fiction to children in comic form. However, some of the most fundamental elements of Lovecraft’s writing are sacrificed because of the audience and format. Almost half of the enjoyment of a Lovecraft story is his use of antiquated language. Obviously, a comic can’t capture that without being so text-heavy that it becomes an illustrated story. Also, for young readers, that would mean having to look up a lot of unfamiliar words. (Adults new to Lovecraft have to do the same.) Brown and Podesta compromise by placing the events of the book in the past, to create a historic feel.

The other major element lost is the cerebral nature of so much of Lovecraft’s horror. Lovecraft’s heroes are often well-educated men with some standing in society, men who aren’t to suppose to come undone, even in the most harrowing of circumstances. As they encounter the Old Ones and their dimension, we watch these men slowly descend into madness. They are confronted with beings too great for human comprehension and non-Euclidian cities and buildings. Worse, they come to realize how insignificant and powerless humans truly are in the universe. The only cosmic order is the will of the most powerful beings, and those beings have no regard for humans or their continued existence. Even those heroes that maintain their sanity are never the same. All their sureties have been violently stripped away, and they are left as shadows of their former selves.

Comic books can’t effectively communicate such interior horrors and transformations. Brown and Podesta instead chose to make the horror more visceral. Howard encounters several life-threatening situations. This works better for young readers, who are more likely to be scared by physical injury. The threat of insanity is a little too abstract for most children to truly comprehend. Certainly, cosmic dread that breaks one’s spirit is beyond the grasp of preteen children.

Help From an 8-Year-Old

Let me preface Christopher’s remarks by explaining that I was provided with a .pdf file instead of an actual book for this review. My nephew has never read a book on the computer before, and he didn’t like the experience. Like any true bibliophile, he prefers to have a physical book in his hands so he can flip the pages back and forth. (Proof that Christopher is being raised right.) Also, to make the text readable, you couldn’t display the entire page on the scene. The best you could do was display half of a page at a time. Not being able to see the entire page at once influenced his impressions of the book. So some of his remarks come from his negative reaction to the format of the book and not necessary from the book itself.

Christopher is a huge fan of Goosebumps and so used that series as his basis of comparison. He liked Frozen Kingdom, but not as much as Goosebumps. For Christopher, the plot was hard to follow at times, especially all of King Abdul’s scheming. Also, he didn’t understand what Howard did at the end in the sanitarium. Howard he found very likable because he was a quick thinker and able to come up with such good ideas. He really liked the artwork; particularly scary were Howard’s father’s hands. Christopher thought the part where Howard was about to get sacrificed was shocking and more like Goosebumps. Overall, he would recommend it to his friends that like horror stories. He does want a copy of the book to so he can re-read it.

Ed’s Evaluation

I’m not completely happy with the character design of Howard himself. His wide eyes, red nose, and rounded cheeks at times make him goofy looking. I know this is slightly unfair, but at times I was reminded of the Warner Brother character Egghead. There are panels where Howard’s features aren’t exaggerated, and those are most effective visually. I hope in subsequent books, they will modify the character design to be more realistic.

I like the overall look of the art. The use of a watercolor palette gives helps create the historical atmosphere. Particularly in the beginning, it feels like you’re looking at sepia-toned photos from the early part of the 20th century. The soft, muted colors evoke the feel of a Lovecraft story. Where I complained earlier about Howard’s look, the character designs for the rest of the cast are well-done, especially Thu Thu Hmong (Spot). Also the book flows well. The page layouts are structured for young readers who might not be familiar with comics. The splash pages are gorgeous. They capture the dramatic tension and emotional impact of the moment perfectly.

Let’s be honest, fans of Lovecraft are going to be disappointed with Howard Lovecraft and the Frozen Kingdom. That is intrinsic to any writer’s fandom. Taken on its own merits, Frozen Kingdom is an enjoyable tale and a fine addition to Lovecraft-inspired fiction. I wouldn’t list this as an all-ages book, but rather for readers 12 and up. Frozen Kingdom is a great way for Lovecraft fans to begin indoctrinating their spawn into the cult of the Old Ones. Lovecraft for kids may seem like madness at first, but Brown and Podesta show that it can be done, it just takes an imagination warped by non-Euclidean visions.

Arcana has a Frozen Kingdom book page on their website. I should note that I couldn’t get this page to load in Internet Explorer for some reason. However, Google Chrome had no problems with the page. If your browser loads, the first five pages of the book are available for preview. (The publisher provided an advance PDF copy for review.)

Imagine being immersed in a long, meandering conversation with someone that speaks their mind openly on any and everything. Further imagine that you look at your watch and discovered you’ve been captivated by this person for several hours, and it’s only been the two of you the whole time. That’s what it’s like to read Hayao Miyazaki’s Starting Point: 1979-1996. It’s one of most delightful, enlightening, and at times surprisingly confessional books I’ve read in a great while.

Starting Point: 1979-1996
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Starting Point is a collection of Miyazaki’s writings and interviews. There is a nice bonus in the center of the book, an eight-page, full-color manga on the history of in-flight dining done for Winds, Japan Airlines’ magazine. This is followed by nine black-and-white pages from Miyazaki’s notebooks. (The last three are untranslated so you can see the quality of Miyazaki’s penmanship.) The foreword is by John Lasseter, one of the founders of Pixar and friend of Miyazaki. The afterword is by Isao Takahata, long-time collaborator of Miyazaki and co-founder of Studio Ghibli.

Over the course of the book, the reader is able to develop a well-rounded picture of Miyazaki, both the man and the animator. In high school, Miyazaki originally wanted to be a gekiga manga artist (49). (Gekiga is a style of realistically drawn manga. The stories are often gritty, dark portrayals of modern life.) However, the Japanese animated movie Hakujaden (The Tale of the White Serpent) literally changed his life.

It made me realize that, behind a facade of cynical pronouncements, in actuality I really was in love with the pure, earnest world of film, even if it were only another cheap melodrama. I was no longer able to deny the fact that there was another me — a me that yearned desperately to affirm the world rather than negate it. (70)

Miyazaki went off to college where, surprisingly, he majored in political economics. While in college he was also part of the Children Literature Study Group (311).

In 1963, he was hired by Toei Animation as an in-between animator (the entry-level job for animation companies). He found the daily grind of television animation becoming unbearable. He was ready to return to his former dream of becoming a manga artist, when a Russian animated film reignited his passion. “Had I not one day seen Snedronnigen (The Snow Queen) during a film screening hosted by the company labor union, I honestly doubt that I would have continued working as an animator.” (71)

In 1978, Miyazaki would make his directorial debut with the television series Future Boy Conan (yet to be released in the US). In 1979, Miyazaki directed his first feature film, Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro. In 1985, Studio Ghibli was founded. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Miyazaki has a great deal of faith in the unlimited potential of animation as a storytelling medium. In this sense he reminds me of Tezuka, who believed that manga had unlimited potential and was an art form on par with novels, short stories, and theater. I find Miyazaki’s passion for cartoons compelling and share his belief that the only limits to cartoons are the imaginations of animators.

In other words, I am talking about doing something with animation that can’t be done with manga magazines, children’s literature, or even live-action films. I’m talking about building a truly unique imaginary world, tossing in characters I like, and then creating a complete drama using them. Simply put, this is what animation is to me. (17)

He has equally high hopes for what his films will accomplish.

To my way of thinking, creating animation means creating a fictional world. That world soothes the spirit of those who are disheartened and exhausted from dealing with the sharp edges of reality, or suffering from a nearsighted distortion of their emotions. When the audience is watching animation, they are apt to feel light and cheerful or purified and refreshed. (25)

But if we can free ourselves from the various complexes we have and the tangled relationships we are in to live a freer, more open world, we might be able to become strong and heroic. I think everyone entertains thoughts of becoming more beautiful, or more gentle, or of having a more meaningful existence. (306)

His high ambitions for animation have made him a harsh critic of much of the animation he sees. “I frankly despise the truncated word ‘anime’ because it only symbolizes the current desolation of our industry.” (72)

But I’d like to see effort put into filmmaking sufficient to withstand the bare-knuckled criticism that I’m providing here. Cartoons have certain weaknesses that we normally don’t notice, and a type of laxity arises precisely because the films are treated as mere cartoons. (118)

His most vehement criticism is leveled at television animation.

“Producing an animation series merely to fill time slots in the broadcast schedule is like generating cultural pollution.” (186)

TV cartoon shows were all just a bunch of slapdash, amateurish, uninspired, derivative creations. We used to say among ourselves that making them was like working with still-open wounds. (279)

Is it any wonder that one he was given the freedom to make animated films, he never returned to television again?

I was also amazed some of the personal confessions that show up in this book. A touching reflection on his relationship with his father and his perceived failings as a parent, “I tried to be a good father, but in the end I wasn’t a very good parent.” (204) His flaws as a first-time director, “The schedule slipped and I caused a lot of trouble for the staff and the production company. This was entirely due to my failing, as I can only work following my intuition and feelings.” (66) Even his personal shortcomings, “I’m a careless sort of person, so I am often quick to say bad things about people.” (211)

My favorite sections of the book are where he discusses Future Boy Conan and each of his films in detail. We learn Miyazaki didn’t intend for the ending of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind to have the religious overtones that it did. But once the film headed in that direction he couldn’t steer it otherwise. (393) Further, we find out Kiki’s Delivery Service was actually made for young women heading to Tokyo to find their first job and make a place for themselves in this world. (262, 378) Porco Rosso was made, “…for tired, middle-aged men whose brain cells have turned to tofu.” (267) There are so many more interesting facts about the production and themes in each of his major works.

So many great quotes can be pulled from this book. There are tons of fascinating ideas that could fuel extended discussions among its readers. Not to mention, lots of behind-the-scenes glimpses of the reality of making animated TV shows and feature films. There is such a wealth of information, no review can truly hope to touch on everything contained within the pages of this book.

I honestly believe that every anime fan needs to read Miyazaki’s Starting Point: 1979-1996. It’s a chance to see deeply inside the anime industry, as well as an opportunity to intimately know one of anime’s greatest directors. I highly recommend Takahata’s afterward as a loving, but brutally honest, portrayal that only a real friend could write. This is also a must-read for American animation fans. It offers a different perspective on cartoons, and how they should be made, than we generally hear in the US. Simply put, this is too significant a book to let simply pass you by. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Bonus Feature: I showed Johanna what my copy of Starting Point looked like when I was reading it and she thought it would be fun to take a picture of it share with you. So here are my photos. I annotated each photo in an attempt to justify/explain my process.

On Tuesday night, I was giving the rare pleasure of seeing two underground comix luminaries sit down and talk for an hour. The University of Richmond’s Modlin Center for the Arts hosted Genesis: A Conversation with R. Crumb and Franciose Mouly at the Richmond CenterStage Carpenter Theater.

The evening opened with a brief introduction to the two guests. Mouly founded Raw Books & Graphics in 1977. She is currently the art director for The New Yorker magazine and the editorial director of Toon Books. Crumb’s first job as an illustrator was for American Greeting cards in 1962. In 1967, Crumb moved to San Francisco and founded the underground comix movement. In 1991, he moved to France, where he still lives today. The Virginia Commonwealth University library has an excellent resource page on Crumb.

The setup and format for the evening was very basic. Two chairs were placed at the center of the stage. Behind them was a large projection screen. The two guests talked for an hour with Mouly acting as interviewer/moderator. At the end of their conversation, they opened it up to audience questions for a half-hour. There was no photography allowed of Mouly or Crumb. Crumb didn’t hold an autograph session, although Velocity Comics and Chop Suey Books had presigned copies of Crumb’s Genesis book for sale in the lobby.

After a brief introduction, both Mouly & Crumb walked on stage. Crumb began the evening with a pratfall. It was clear from the start that Mouly was hoping for an hour of serious discussion exploring some of the themes in Crumb’s work. Crumb, however, was in a more playful mood and wanted to crack jokes and keep it lighthearted. The most animated moments of the evening were when Crumb wasn’t talking about himself but instead talking about his wife, reactions to his work, or criticizing corporate America.

The conversation started with Crumb talking about the 1994 documentary of his life, titled Crumb. It was clear that he was unhappy with the film, but unclear as to why. I wasn’t sure if it was because he thought the film was biased in its presentation or because the film was too revealing. He said that he was glad that his family was living in France when the film was released in the US. He didn’t think that his daughter, Sophie, would have been able to attend public school after the film’s release. The film made him want to change his appearance and who he was.

Crumb’s biggest concern in moving to France was losing touch with American culture, since his work is based on cultural observations. He would never presume to make comments on French culture since he didn’t grow up in it and was still trying to understand it. He expanded on American culture during the audience Q&A section. The one thing that he despises is how corporations are really the driving force and shapers of US culture. There are layers and layers of chicanery and deception. We are so bombarded by PR that Americans don’t even realize how ubiquitous it is.

Mouly mentioned that Crumb’s wife, Aline, is an excellent artist in her own right. Crumb agreed and felt it was unfair that she had to compete against his fame/notoriety. Crumb met Aline in 1971 when she moved out to San Francisco to be part of the underground comix scene. She was the first women to do autobiographical underground comix. Currently, she is working on creating shrines. They showed pictures of her Barbie shrine and Virgin Mother shrine. A couple of times in the conversation Crumb mentioned how much they are still in love.

Next they focused on specific Crumb comix. Mouly commented on them and asked for his thoughts. One was “A Gurl” about a woman masturbating. She thought it showed a sensitivity toward women. Crumb was surprised since he said it all came out of his imagination. Next was a comix titled “Don’t Touch Me”. This was a multipage work that depicted a woman being raped. The first page is from the perspective of the woman. Mouly says that it’s not what it appears at first. Crumb was happy she got it. He’s frustrated that people just have a knee-jerk reaction without trying to understand the joke. Then he said that all women have rape fantasies. This was the only remark Crumb made that drew a negative reaction from Mouly and the audience. They quickly moved on.

Crumb’s love of music and the portraits he’s done of early blues and jazz musicians were briefly discussed. He said that music has a powerful effect on him and the portraits were a way of expressing appreciation to the musicians. Interestingly, he doesn’t listen to music while he draws; he prefers it to be silent. Crumb said he can either draw comix or listen to music but can’t do both. Also, he only listens to CDs if he can’t get the 78. Crumb and his daughter, Sophie, have been members of various bands. Aline can play an instrument but doesn’t share their passion.

The conversation then focused on Crumb’s illustrated version of the book of Genesis. Originally, he had intended to do a satire of Adam and Eve. After studying the text, he decided to do a straightforward visual interpretation. Once he finished with the Adam and Eve story, he realized he felt compelled to do the entire book of Genesis. For visual reference, he visited the British Museum’s collection of Sumer and Assyrian art but found there wasn’t very much there. So he looked for other sources to help fill out the visual details. D.W. Griffith’s 1916 film Intolerance turned out to be the most useful. All the sets and costumes were based on Assyrian bas-reliefs. Crumb used stills from the movie as visual reference. In order to complete the book, Aline rented a secluded cabin in the mountains for him to use as a studio. He was left alone during the week; she visited him, and brought provisions, on the weekends.

Mouly confessed Crumb’s book was the first time she had actually read the book of Genesis. Crumb said he had heard that from many other people. He did a lot of research into the text while working on the illustrations. He was amazed to discover the amount of debate about the Biblical texts. Some word meanings have been lost to the ages, and scholars argue over how to translate them. Some words are ambiguous, and more than one meaning could be appropriate to the text. Sometimes the debate is how to best translate the text to communicate the original meaning to modern readers. He didn’t realize how difficult it would be to illustrate Genesis when he started. Now that he is finished, he won’t do any other Biblical books.

During the Q&A section, Crumb was asked about his first experience with LSD. He tried LSD back in June 1965, when it was still legal. It shattered reality for him. It shattered everything. He was so detached from reality that he threw up and didn’t realize it at the time. The next day when he went to work, the world seemed hollow and like cardboard to him. Later in San Francisco, he smoked pot and did so for eight years. But his advice is to stay sober. Today’s youth doesn’t value their own native intelligence. They don’t value their own natural ability for perception and awareness.

The evening ended with Mouy making the observation that Crumb’s Genesis is a modern Rorschach test. Most discussion is really about the reader’s reaction to his book and less about the book itself. Some find it too salacious, and others say it’s not salacious enough. Then they got up and exited the stage. Crumb ended the evening the way he began it, with a pratfall.

I enjoyed the conversation. I do wish that Crumb had been a bit more serious and willing to engage Mouly in discussions about themes in his works and how he intended readers to react to certain comix. That being said it was a captivating and entertaining hour and a half. Like all truly good programs, it felt like the time flew by. Hopefully, they will tape one of the other evenings to allow more fans to experience this event. I’m sure no one left disappointed. (A free ticket to the event was provided by the Modlin Center.)

Crumb doesn’t follow any organized religion; in fact, he might be an atheist. In the introduction, he tells us that he doesn’t believe that the Bible is the Word of God, or even inspired by God. Yet he strove to produce the most straightforward, faithful-to-the-text, illustrated version of Genesis. And succeeded. Every word found in the Biblical text is included in Crumb’s version. Further, Crumb didn’t make up additional dialogue or narrative scenes. What you get is the Biblical text and nothing but the Biblical text.

The Book of Genesis
Illustrated by R. Crumb
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Let’s talk briefly about the translation of Genesis used. The majority of the text comes from Robert Alter’s translation, but Crumb did edit and revise the translation where he thought he could make it read more smoothly. For some revisions, he used the King James version of Genesis, and some wording is original to Crumb himself. What we have is a perfectly fine translation. There are no major alterations or radical word changes. Crumb stays as faithful to the original text as any other editor.

Now on to the part everyone is really interested in, the artwork. Here I think I might disappoint some people: I wasn’t shocked or scandalized by what I found in Crumb’s drawings. I’m very familiar with the Biblical text and familiar enough with Crumb’s work to know what I could expect before I opened the book. I knew that Adam and Eve walked around the garden naked in chapter 3. I knew that Crumb was going to draw them both in all their glory. And he did. There are no low-hanging branches, no hiding behind bushes, and no conventionally placed hands and arms. I’m well aware that in chapter 19, Lot gets drunk and has sex with his daughters. Sure enough, Crumb draws the incestuous copulations. The couple isn’t making love under the blankets, there are no well-placed shadows, and no use of shadows on the wall. You see what they’re doing in full detail.

Crumb’s lack of modesty and decorum is certain to upset conservative Christians, Jews, and Muslims. But the cover comes with “Adult Supervision Recommended for Minors” and “The First Book of the Bible Graphically Depicted! NOTHING LEFT OUT!” advisories. So even if a reader is unfamiliar with who R. Crumb is, they can’t say they weren’t amply warned. Let’s be honest, Christian bookstores won’t be stocking this next to other illustrated versions of the Bible; they won’t be stocking this at all.

Other people who might be scandalized are people unfamiliar with the Biblical text. Genesis is the story of God’s relationship with fallen humanity. Adam’s son, Cain, commits the first murder. Noah gets drunk and passes out naked. Abraham is so scared of Pharaoh that he lets Pharaoh marry his wife with any word of protest. We’ve already mentioned Lot’s incest. Laban and Jacob are competing con artists. And Jacob’s sons sell one of their own, Joseph, into slavery because they’re jealous of all the attention he gets. It’s all there in the text, humanity at its best and its worst. Heroes of faith with fears, doubts, and flaws just like the rest of us.

There are several things I like about Crumb’s version. First, he makes the genealogy passage of chapter 11 an enjoyable read. This is something Francoise Mouly brought out in her discussion of the book with Crumb. He does it simply and effectively. While the text is telling us who begat whom, Crumb shows us scenes of daily life around 3,000 BC. This really brings to life the names being listed. It also brings out the passage of time. As we look at grandparents cuddling grandchildren, villages making sacrifices to gods, and couples dancing, the passing centuries become more tangible. We understand that the lives of generations of people, much like ours, is quickly passing by. Crumb brought poignancy to the passage for me.

Second, Crumb does a great job creating a believable bronze age world. This isn’t Cecil B. DeMille’s sparkling clean, perfectly groomed vision of the Bible. The people in Crumb’s version sweat, get dirty, have disheveled hair, etc. They aren’t always the most attractive people. They all don’t get old gracefully and with dignity. This is a world of body odor, dusty trails, hard labor, animal smells, blazing hot days, freezing nights, etc. It’s a world where the most advanced technology is the wheel, the sword, pulleys, and carving tools. You understand how difficult life was for the people in those times. It’s amazing to think of the cities and monuments they built with just the muscle of men and beasts.

Third, the attention to detail helps makes some passages easier to understand. The best example is in the Joseph saga (chapters 37 and 39 thru 50). Just reading the text, you wonder why Joseph’s brothers don’t recognize him when they meet him in Egypt. Crumb shows you how radically different Joseph looked from the last time they saw him. When his brothers see him in Egypt, he looks just like any other Egyptian high official. He is not only wearing Egyptian clothes, but he is clean-shaven, has an Egyptian hair style, and has Egyptian mannerisms. There is nothing about him to suggest he was ever the son of a nomadic shepherd. Here, Crumb’s illustrations function like a commentary to make explicit what is hidden in the text.

There are a couple of charming idiosyncrasies to Crumb’s choices. First, Crumb uses the stereotypical Western depiction of God. I’m reminded of how men like Michelangelo, William Blake, and Albercht Durer painted or drew Him. God has powerful features and long, flowing white hair and beard. Most people will find the image instantly recognizable. Second, Crumb makes most of the important women of Genesis look like his wife, Aline. Eve, Sarah, and Rachel all look alike. It’s a touching demonstration of how much he loves his wife but makes for some odd reading.

Beyond any doubt, Crumb is an incredibly skilled draftsmen. The pen work in this book is marvelous. You could use this book to illustrate figure drawing, what perfect cross-hatching looks like, and how to pay attention to the smallest details. There are no shortcuts taken in this book. Each panel is meticulously drawn. Foreground and background characters are fully rendered. Thinking about the time and energy it would take to do just one panel makes you appreciate the immerse labor it took to complete the entire book.

I’m not sure who the audience for this book would be. Mouly mentioned this was the first time she had actually read the book of Genesis, so I’m thankful to Crumb for making this Biblical book accessible to a new audience. Certainly, Crumb’s current fans will enjoy this work.

I actually would like all Christians to read the book, because of how real and human it makes the great heroes of faith. They worked hard, got tired, made mistakes, made love, got old, and died just like everyone else. They weren’t insulated from the harsh realities of this world. And in the midst of daily living, they developed a lasting relationship with God that formed the foundation of our own faith today. Crumb’s faithfulness to the text is able to flesh out the daily ordinary live of the patriarchs without diminishing the extraordinary nature of their faith. Honestly, and perhaps ironically, I don’t think anyone else could have accomplished that incredible feat.

Crumb’s Genesis is truly a remarkable book. I’d like everyone to experience a chapter or two of book so they could judge for themselves if the book is appropriate for them. Like Genesis itself, this book is a mix of the sacred and the profane. Not everyone will find that to their liking. However, I sincerely believe it’s worth the effort to read the book, at least once.

NPR posted the first five pages of the book, while Boing Boing has chapter 19, the story of Lot and his daughters in Sodom, as well as a video flip-through.

(The publisher provided a review copy.)