Otomen Book 12

by Aya Kanno, $9.99, Viz

Ah, if Otomen has returned, warmer weather must be on its way, since we saw the previous volume at the end of last summer. That’s appropriate, since this is a lighter book, better read in a balmy frame of mind.

Since Asuka’s mother has been cracking down at school, enforcing rigid gender roles, Asuka and his friends have escaped to a men-only baking class to avoid the pressure placed by living up to old-fashioned stereotypes. The panel where Asuka ponders how good life would be “if we didn’t have to run and hide… if we could tell people who we really are…” will strike a chord with most teens. Everyone has secrets they’re taught to be embarrassed about, and seeing a light-hearted take on how to be happier being yourself is a welcome escape from the worries.

Much of the book deals with Asuka’s discovery of the truth about his father, who’s been gone for much of his life. There’s a kidnapping, to force things even more dramatically, and the combination of pastry and criminals reminded me of Antique Bakery, in a good way. The sparse panels, full of full-face reaction shots, make for a quick page-turner.

Dawn of the Arcana Book 2

Dawn of the Arcana Book 2

by Rei Toma, $9.99, Viz

The royal couple, married for political reasons, find themselves misunderstanding each other frequently. Prince Caesar tries to give his new wife a gift that would please her, but fancy clothes and a shopping trip don’t matter to Nakaba. The small incidents, simply told, are given more significance through the foreboding, “had I but known then”-style narration. We’re told that her happiness was short-lived, and she should have never have forgotten that she was living in an enemy kingdom.

We start getting hints of the melodrama as Nakaba begins having prophetic dreams, although she doesn’t always know how to interpret them. Meanwhile, her companion Loki confides in her his desire to overthrow the kingdom to free his people, even murdering the prince if necessary. So Nakaba, like a typical shojo heroine, founds herself torn between two pretty men — only the consequences are life-threatening in this historical fantasy.

She’s accused by the queen, confused by her roiling emotions for her husband, stupidly loyal to her assistant, struggling to understand her new powers, and finally, finding herself overwhelmed by stolen kisses. Girls should love it.

@Full Moon Book 2

@Full Moon Book 2

by Sanami Matoh, $10.99, Kodansha Comics

Second and final volume of this series, but it’s a sequel to the two-volume Until the Full Moon series, originally brought to the U.S. by Broccoli Books in 2005 and republished last year by Kodansha.

It’s goofy. Marlo is a half-vampire, half-werewolf guy who becomes a girl under the full moon. She/He has married childhood friend David, who’s a doctor and also a vampire. However, in this book, little witch Mona has cast a spell keeping Marlo female, which frustrates her/him immensely.

The art is full with detail, costume, setting, and characters. There’s plenty to look at, which is good, since I wasn’t always sure I was keeping track properly of the various cast members and their schemes. (That’s my fault, for trying to start with what’s effectively the fourth book in the series, but that’s the one I had.) Still, I can see why this is appealing; the romantic scenes are hot, and the light-hearted tone is a welcome change from traumatized, brooding vamps.

The new element in this volume is stalker Ingrid kidnapping David, so Marlo has to find and get him back. That happens relatively quickly, so this is a good manga for readers who don’t like drawn-out plots. Every few pages, there’s something else happening or a new person introduced. With the misunderstandings and the crushes, it’s kind of like a really twisted Archie comic.

Arisa Book 6

Arisa Book 6

by Natsumi Ando, $10.99, Kodansha Comics

Having missed a couple of books since I last read the series, I was hoping I’d be able to catch up, but apparently more happened there than I realized. However, the mystery doesn’t seem to have progressed any further.

I think there’s a disconnect between what I was hoping for with this series and what the author wants to do. I wanted to follow an actual mystery, with clues and progression on finding out who the King is; Ando seems to want to use the framework to tell stories about teen friendship without advancing our understanding of the underlying setup. Which is her right, of course, but it’s not the series I’m looking to read, because I’ve seen plenty of that already.

This volume tells the story of Shizuka, who has a bunch of the special King cellphones, and she struggles with how to use them. She’s after some kind of revenge, but Tsubasa thinks being friendly can defuse her. A bunch of characters then talk about friendship and whether it’s pretending or not. If you’re looking for a lot of emotional showdowns that don’t accomplish much, this is the series for you. I liked best the two bonus stories. One is a flashback to seeing the younger twins together; the other is a short in which the artist talks about taking a research trip.

The Story of Saiunkoku Book 6

The Story of Saiunkoku Book 6

by Sai Yukino and Kairi Yura, $9.99, Viz

These characters are really pretty, all the more so in the color two-page spread that opens the book. I’m glad I had that eye candy to tide me over, since the book opens with the conclusion of a fight I didn’t remember starting in the previous volume. Soon enough, though, that’s settled, and we’re back to Shurei’s quest to become a civil servant in a world that doesn’t believe females should be allowed in that role. With the help of the city’s leading courtesan, who gives her makeup lessons, because she is told to remember she’s still a woman.

However, passing the nation’s service exam is only the beginning. Performing well on a test doesn’t convince the bigots that she belongs in the work, and obstacles keep being placed in her way by those who hold grudges. Of course, she keeps a good attitude throughout, inspiring those who know her, and the Emperor continues to stand behind her and support her. It’s grueling just reading about what she’s put through, but her dedication is inspirational.

(The publishers provided review copies.)

Bakuman Book 9

The boys’ original editor is now working with Iwase, introduced in the previous volume as a rival for Takagi, the writer. I like her skills, but her motivation to beat Takagi as a way of forcing him to be interested in her is ridiculous. The rest of her attitudes, though, are quite amusing. When told her series was accepted for serialization, her editor is surprised that she’s not more excited. She responds, “It’s just that I’ve never failed an exam or had a submission turned away in my life.” I could grow to like her.

Perhaps I should follow Ed’s advice of simply ignoring any relationship story pages and just read the bits about making comics. That especially goes for the subplot of Takagi promising his girlfriend they’d get married if their new story got accepted as a series. I suspect that’s to allow for comedy bits, such as Mashiro pretending to be her father so Takagi can practice asking him for her hand, but it’s at best funny in an uncomfortable way. Few American readers can relate to either wanting to get married so young or the girlfriend’s lack of any ambition or goals for herself.

Anyway, Iwase’s artist is Nizuma, taking on a second series in a groundbreaking decision, and he’s always a pleasure to see more of, since he comes the closest to “crazy obsessive artistic genius” in type. (I wouldn’t want to work with him, but he’s great to read about, especially how everyone else uses him as a barometer for talent.) How all the other young creators take the news of the new series allows for checking in with the wide cast of supporting players. I particularly like the brief mentions we get of Hiramaru, the one who can’t make a deadline without his editor sitting in his room staring at him. He’s developed a crush on Miss Aoki (who’s shown on the cover), and his editor is taking great advantage of this romantic pressure point to keep him working. (I like her, too, in her quiet certainty and her request to only work with female assistants to avoid complications.)

The more I read, the more I share the guys’ dislike for their editor, who doesn’t seem to know much about what he’s doing. Even when he is clear on his goals, they’re not the same as what the boys want, pointing out how what’s good for the manga magazine and the business may not be the best thing for the artists. He does get some development this volume, though, learning to make different kinds of choices.

The conflict in this installment is that the boys’ new manga is doing well, but it’s a joke-based series that mostly appeals to kids. It’s successful, but none of their friends like it, because it’s too young for them. Those friends, meanwhile, are working on series that rank higher, so the guys have to figure out whether to be satisfied with what they have or strive to create something more artistically challenging. In short, it’s the classic debate of art vs. commerce, whether a working creator should aim for prestige and recognition or stability and money.

Once again, we’re left with a cliffhanger that puts the guys’ career on the line, all the while they’re shaking up the usual way of working. It becomes clear that Takagi’s marriage is another way of ramping up the potential effects, since he’s going to have a wife to support. Changing his state is a way of signifying the importance of learning to make adult decisions. I should have had more faith in the Bakuman creators — they use their characters like paper dolls, the women especially, but there’s always a dramatic purpose behind it. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

First, a brief mention of the books you’re likely already familiar with. I don’t think I need to tell anyone about the second omnibus of Love Hina or the third of Negima!, since those long-running series are well-known to their fans already, and these thick volumes simply make them available more affordably. Air Gear Book 21, meanwhile, I know isn’t for me, between the high volume number and it being from the author of Tenjho Tenge.

Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei Book 12

Let’s start with an old favorite. I haven’t read Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei since book 8, a year ago. Book 12 is consistent, more of the same, even on its third translator (here, Joshua Weeks), although the endnotes section keeps getting shorter and shorter (perhaps to make room for the four-page fan art gallery included here?). Particularly funny (because of its truth) is the early line from the girl obsessed with precision: “I wonder if people reading for the first time can really understand this manga.” This chapter is about those who deny first-timers service, because no one wants to be the one training the newbies.

That’s actually a lead-in to a reintroduction to many of the characters and jokes about the expectations of long-time fans, so this wouldn’t be a bad volume to start with, if you’re curious. As a gag manga very tied into its culture, I think I’m not really part of the audience any more. The series seems to be best for those who like getting the in-jokes from another country, that feeling of “I know more about this than others do”. While I sometimes find the connections the characters make insightful, the book as set of gags is just a bit too episodic for me.

Additional chapters tackle those doing stupid things because they’re told they’re hot; what it means to be treated as an adult; no-win situations where both choices are undesirable; auras of disappointment; and enjoying coming full circle. The art is as graphically striking as always, with unusual flat, high-contrast images. This volume is seasonally timely, as well, with stories that mention Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

Gon Book 3

The only other title in this batch I was familiar with was Gon, which I read some of back when CMX was releasing it. Book 3 was thus exactly what I expected, gorgeously illustrated tales of savage life among the beasts. In the four chapters here, Gon explores life on a big river, sometimes placid, sometimes filled with rapids; Gon torments a dingo trying to feed her cubs, including leading a mass koala attack; Gon eats mushrooms deadly to all the other animals; and Gon temporarily becomes an adopted wolf cub and battles the tiger that kills the pack mother.

The situations can frequently be ludicrous, as in the Australian chapter, where Gon somehow manages to get natural enemies to work together, but the detailed line drawings are masterful to behold. The series rewards a slow, patient read. Since it’s wordless, close attention must be paid to details to be sure of what’s going on. Animal Land Book 3 is a much different, more fantastic take on a similar concept, with a human boy the only outsider in a land of animals. This series features more exaggerated (and more typically manga-like) art.

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Book 3

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney Book 3 was a welcome change of pace, with goofy humor woven into a murder investigation. There’s a group of five fortune tellers operating out of a department store. Wright’s assistant drags him in while she visits them, which luckily puts them in place when one of the seers gets murdered in a locked-room mystery, supposedly by a young woman client.

This was a fun read that played fair with the mystery. It reminded me of watching an old-style 80s TV series, as though the fortune tellers were the weekly guest stars. I appreciated having a single case get introduced, complicated, and resolved in one volume. I also liked the gag of the misunderstanding over “Thong Fortunes”. While several men envision predictions from a girl in a well-stuffed bikini, the real approach turns out to be much different. A neat bit of escapism, with an intriguing endnote page that explains the character names used and why they were selected.

I moved through the remaining books quickly. Bloody Monday Book 3 is a more mature thriller, as a group of kids try to find out more about a terrorist plot revolving around a deadly virus. I admit, I wasn’t in the mood for what’s been called an “adrenaline-pumping” ride, so I passed on this one. I also suspect I’d need to start from the beginning to get the cast of kids straight. Monster Hunter Orage Book 3 is based on a video game about, well, killing monsters, so I skipped it as well. And when I saw that Mardock Scramble Book 3 was the story of a hooker rescued from death and turned into a vengeful cyborg, I concluded it wasn’t for me.

That leaves Cage of Eden Book 3, another in the genre of “schoolkids marooned somewhere weird, must band together to survive”. In this case, it’s a deserted island populated by giant extinct animals and, as discovered in this installment, teenage gangsters. It was interesting to start, but I was turned off when I got to the “girl students change clothes” fan service chapter. And if that was annoying, I suspect the cute girl “fighting force” in Tokyo Mew Mew Omnibus 2 would drive me right over the edge.

This was the first time I’ve gotten any books from Kodansha, and if I’m lucky enough to continue, then I’m looking forward to catching up on Arisa next month and finally trying Sailor Moon.

Fluffy, Fluffy Cinnamoroll Book 1

Youngsters will enjoy the variety of cute puppy characters. In addition to Cinnamoroll (who can also fly, since he’s the child of a cloud — and if that kind of ridiculous, disconnected drop-in bothers you, this isn’t the book for you), there’s Mocha, Cappuccino, Chiffon, Espresso, and the baby Milk. They hang out at a cafe and a nearby park, with a magic tree that can grow toys and bugs.

It’s silly, but kids should appreciate learning all the characters and their personalities, while older readers will find the cast somewhat interchangeable. The simple art style, while not resembling what most people think of as dogs, makes the puppies seem easy to copy by young hands. The opening color section is the most attractive part of the book, although Cinnamoroll has plenty of adventures throughout: coming to Earth, making friends, rescuing puppy Milk, and capturing a flying guitar that makes inanimate objects talk.

That’s only the first half of the book. Overall, there’s no logic here, just unbridled imagination. I don’t understand the appeal, but I’m not under 12. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

The Drops of God Book 2

First, it’s a French restaurant that Shizuku’s competition, critic Tomine, has nearly put out of business by criticizing its wine and food pairings. The chef owner’s wife has passed, and she used to stock the restaurant’s wine cellar. Their daughter Suzuka has an interest in the subject but hasn’t handled her mother’s death well. Her rebellious nature reminds Shizuku of his own relationship with his departed father.

The lessons for the reader here revolve around how flavors can change depending on the combination of food and wine. The characters discuss compatibility and enhancing the tastes together. But even beyond the wine knowledge, a main source of appeal for this series, there’s the comfort of seeing what’s left of a broken family come together through shared adversity. Dad learns to see his daughter as an adult, with her own skills and ability to contribute to the family business, while Suzuka finds out that her father has new appreciation for his wife’s talent. The generational passing from mother to daughter parallels Shizuku’s situation, where he is stepping into his father’s shoes. The difference is that Suzuka wants to follow in her mother’s footsteps, in spite of possible opposition from her father, while Shizuku is much more resistent to his father’s wishes.

I also learned that reading chapter after chapter of people talking about which Chablis to drink with oysters would make me really hungry for seafood, in addition to teaching me how wines are characterized by their region, type of grape, winemaker, and grade. I was pleased to see how open the characters are to choosing the right wine, even if it’s cheaper, since that got past some of the snobbery I saw in the first book. There’s a later story with a wine distributor needing help replacing a wine that went bad that makes the point even more directly — if you can drink good wine for half the price, why not choose that one?

The next major struggle for Shizuku and Miyabi is to help a divided wine shop. Two twin brothers, one a college-educated snob, the other a populist former gang member, can’t work together, so they’ve split their father’s store down the middle. The snob only cares about labels and brands, while the other wants to keep the prices down and open up wine drinking to the general public. In this reconciliation, the wine is Burgundy, and Shizuku winds up finding a reasonably priced, lesser-known choice for his upcoming battle with the Italian lover (set up in the first book).

That tasting battle, pitting three French wines against three Italian, provides ground for the artist to excel in drawing images symbolizing the taste of the beverages, as well as continuing to contrast a snob’s love of labels with what will appeal to the masses (represented by the cast’s beer-drinking co-workers). That exaggerated imagery, using visuals to substitute for taste, continues into the end of the book, with the reveal of the first description of one of the bottles needed to fulfill the conditions of Shizuku’s father’s will. That actual bottle is promised to be revealed in the next book, out in March. I’ll be reading. Many of my concerns about the series have been assuaged with this second volume.

The publisher has created a dedicated website for the series that includes a preview.

Shuichi (a boy who wants to be a girl) and Yoshino (a girl who wants to be a boy) have settled into a pattern of indulging their true selves together. They dress as they want to be treated and visit other areas of town, where they’ve made an encouraging adult friend. She gives them a place to hang out and simply be, without worrying about what others think of them. In the rest of their lives, even the simplest requests — such as a school assignment to write about your dream — is fraught with danger, evasion, and deception. There are few people they can be honest with, for fear of their reactions.

Wandering Son Book 2

Given the complications of their situations, the two are pretty lucky, with a school friend who likes taking pictures of the two of them cross-dressing and who is willing to stand up for them, although she fears being left out of their special relationship. Shuichi’s slightly older sister, though, may come to be more of a problem, especially when one of her classmates sees Shuichi dressed as a girl and becomes infatuated. The class trip shown in the second half of the book is also miserable, with a bully pointing out how Shuichi is different.

Shimura Takako’s young figures are adorable. They look unspoiled, with their future ahead of them, which puts their struggles into greater relief. Who would want such young, happy kids to be miserable? But that’s what they’re facing, once people learn of their true desires. It can be hard to remember how much the two are becoming practiced liars, and when reminded, it makes this reader angry that they’re in a world where that is necessary.

Every volume includes the unpleasant physical reminders of their birth sex, whether it’s getting a period or a wet dream or stupid boys trying to touch the girl’s chests during a trip on a twisty mountain road. I suspect, as the series progresses, those reminders are going to come more often and present more of a problem to deal with. Translator Matt Thorn’s essay at the back of this volume addresses the issue of being “Transgendered in Japan” directly, providing valuable information on cultural context, as well as warning us that the children’s lives may be very difficult in years (and stories) to come.

There is no more handsome manga than Fantagraphics’ presentation of Wandering Son. The larger hardcover suggests “important material inside”, while the creamy, soft paper is comfortable to touch and turn. The book opens with a few color pages that I found essential, since that section includes a character list. Shimura’s work is lovely, but her faces do look alike, all wide hopeful eyes. I found referring back to the cast descriptions helpful in keeping track of the kids and being sure I understood the subtleties of what was going on. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Ooku: The Inner Chambers Book 6

The first thing that’s distinctive about the series is how striking it is. From its larger size and substantial feel in the hand to the absolutely gorgeous color designs on the French flaps, opening the book puts the reader into another, historical state of mind.

Each volume provides dramatic and involving stories of the struggles faced by the shoguns, but there’s even more depth among the tales when you consider them in the context of the series. The shogun Tsunayoshi has no heir, so there is debate over who should be named her successor. One possibility is the new regional lord Tsunanori, who is the favorite choice of Tsunayoshi’s father. He’s now a doddering old man, but observant readers will note that they first met him as a young man in Book 2. The other potential heir, Tsunatoyo, is the granddaughter of a man who was a rival to him back in those days, so he is firmly opposed to her, even though she is a better choice in terms of experience.

It can be difficult for the American reader to keep up with the various names and connections among all the characters, especially when the monikers are so similar. I think the author is playing into established Japanese events, so readers familiar with that history likely have an advantage in keeping everyone straight. Me, I enjoy making new discoveries when I re-read, along the lines of “oh, I didn’t recognize that person was HIM.”

Much of this volume tackles the questions of aging, looking at how what we’ve done shapes who we are. Sir Emonnosuke (shown on the cover), whom we first met as a young (although lying about his age) stud for the shogun, is older now, and his control of the Inner Chambers, and through them, the shogun, is ruthless.

The shogun Tsunayoshi is also aging, and so considered worthless by the populace, since she can no longer have a child. Her decisions are also unpopular during a time of economic struggle. In refusing to officially choose her heir, she puts off having to decide between love of her father and the best decision for the country. Her struggle is especially significant in a life that has forced her to put love aside in her youth in favor of taking whichever man might give her a child. This series clearly separates sex and romance, a brutally practical approach that is unusual in fiction.

The two, Emonnosuke and Tsunayoshi, discover new feeling in their old age in a chapter I found quite touching. It’s interwoven with a dramatic demonstration of the feelings of the people in a masterful interplay of action and quiet panels. The desire for life and happiness doesn’t end at any given point, and mature adults still have deep emotions, perhaps the more so given their patience and experience.

The art, as expected from Fumi Yoshinaga, is astounding, focused on expression but clear in setting the period with costuming. I love her style, and she is my favorite manga-ka because of her skill and how approachable and beautiful her work is. Many have complained about the faux-Shakespearean approach to the translated dialogue, but I like it. It gives a welcome flavor of old-fashioned elegance that suits the material.

One particular sequence stood out to me as particularly impressive. When Tsunayoshi finally makes her decision, she leaves her father’s presence as he clutches at her robe to stop her. She walks away, while her intricately patterned gown is left behind, and her face shows peace, having made her decision and dropping behind her the constraints, symbolized by the robe, she felt restrained by.

Sadly, since this is ultimately an ornate soap opera, the next revelation is a disheartening one, but that’s how history works, full of betrayals, the occasional murder, and loss. The one benefit of age is finally losing some of the rules that bind one and having the ability to do as one wishes, instead of as one is told.

The second half of the volume takes up with a younger group of characters as succession passes. A new concubine is found and groomed, one with a disturbing story of incest in his background. Their stories are gripping, but it was the first half that I found most satisfying and unusual, as seeing such mature characters portrayed as still vibrant is still rare in comics.

20th Century Boys Book 18

by Naoki Urasawa

Kanna’s rebel group has gone even further underground. Their planned action is known by the ruling class, but Kanna refuses to call off the mission, because dreaming of that achievement is all that keeps her group together. Superhero-ish Otcho (think a grizzled old Japanese version of Wolverine) is trying to find her, busting in doors of places they used to hang out.

I’m unsure what I can or should say about this series at this time. It’s not as though anyone’s going to start reading with the 18th book, since characters long before established are meeting in new combinations and the suspense keeps building and building and building. (Release, please!) Yet it’s a significant series and quite impressive that it’s still going in translation. It amazes me that Urasawa created and maintained it in such depth for so long.

The art is too accomplished for me to praise it sufficiently. 20th Century Boys is like reading a movie, with atmospheric settings and dramatic expressions. The linework is marvelous, and Urasawa takes full advantage of the ability to create whatever place or situation he can imagine, from a post-plague militaristic society to the transformative power of a catchy song or a crazy old man with a guitar mistaken for a space alien.

I have the impression that there are some very subtle messages about responsibility for yourself and others running through this series, but I’d have to reread a lot of the volumes to be sure. It’s referenced in the debate Kanna and Otcho have about how to proceed, and the old man’s contradictory statements about singing, contrasted with the dementedly loyal disc jockey.

I did feel very sorry and sympathetic for Kanna. She’s tired of being responsible for everyone else’s hopes. She’s past feeling, and she’s overwhelmed and cynical at such a young age. Poor thing. It’s not going to get any better for her. But maybe there’s still hope for the future.

I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow Book 4

I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow Book 4

by Shunju Aono

Along similar lines, this series about a middle-aged man who wants to draw manga provides the exhausted breath of a promise of a fresh start… or does Shizuo really just need to find a new way to see himself and gain attention?

When we left off with Book 3, Shizuo’s editor had quit the magazine just before Shizuo was supposed to make his manga debut. His new editor is a younger woman, and she has very different opinions about what she wants to see. He reminds her of a situation she’s not happy with in her own life, and she’s blunt in her unfavorable reactions to his work.

Shizuo starts wishing he was a kid again… until he remembers his life was miserable then, too. At some point, he should figure out that the problem is him, that wishing for things to change or magically be another age isn’t a useful coping mechanism. But he’s still got a good deal of growing up to do. I hope that his new editor pointing out how his manga is just begging for approval of his choices — a trap it’s easy for creators to fall into — will shake him up enough to get better work from him.

Aono’s art resembles the slightly primitive style of a newcomer, reflecting the story content in design. His characters are simple and flat, giving them a more universal role as a representative of their type as well as a particular incarnation.

Saturn Apartments Book 4

Saturn Apartments Book 4

by Hisae Iwaoka

After I’ll Give It My All… Tomorrow, Saturn Apartments seems so delicately drawn, with its fine lines and cluttered detail, well-suited to symbolizing the future, even if it is a down-at-heels, lower-class one. That’s what the two series have in common — the need to work hard to even have a hope of achieving your dream. Sometimes, simply surviving is enough.

Mitsu has more ambition than that, though, working with the experienced Jin to study for the technician test. Mitsu’s got a number of co-workers he learns from, either in terms of dedication to the work or specific skills to assist him in his job. A dangerous situation that puts one cleaner in the hospital reminds us that this grunt work has life-or-death consequences.

Even after the immediate danger is over, there are ramifications to clean up — bills, resentful co-workers who blame those involved, family decisions, long-term fears of what years spent working means to one’s body. How much responsibility do we have for the decisions of those close to us? It’s a difficult question that provides some depth to this slice-of-life science fiction story, combined with a generational transition that shows time passing.

Then Mitsu is given a new worker to train, so he has to take charge of someone; in spite of his unwillingness to confront someone older than he is, he’s needed to prevent the rookie cleaner from making serious mistakes. It’s another example of how he’s growing up.

(All books are priced at $12.99 US and were provided by the publisher for review.)

Bakuman Book 8

Iwase is an intriguing figure, especially since she seems to have a need to compete with Takagi, even though he praises her accomplishments in her chosen field. Turns out she has a crush on him and wants to replace his girlfriend. (A motivation that, to this reader, came out of thin air, since Takagi is not particularly desirable.) This is more fodder for those upset by the stereotypical female roles in this manga, since Iwase is yet another one, the ultra-competitive ball-breaker. Yet I can see why this new plot was included, since a rival for Takagi’s devoted girlfriend Miyoshi provides some relationship drama as well as wish fulfillment for the boy readers. (If Takagi can have girls both beautiful and brainy fighting over him, then anyone could.)

The problems the various manga creators face range from the understandable — Takagi and his editor want to make sure the comedy story has enough jokes — to the oddly (culturally) specific, as when Miss Aoki has to draw not just glimpses of underwear, but panty shot poses that the boy readers will find appealing. (Apparently, there are panty shot angles that they don’t enjoy. I’m not sure I believe that.) So her editor works to get her an assistant specializing in “drawing butts and panties”. What a job description. I thought this couldn’t get any creepier, until later in the book, they interview one candidate in a sequence that has to be read to be believed.

Aoki’s work is one of three strong contenders to get a new series running, a challenge Takagi and Mashiro are devoting themselves to as well. But that’s not the only competition this volume, as the relationship complications keep spiraling out of control. Between someone using Mashiro and Azuki’s pure romance for manga subject matter and Azuki getting involved in the complications with Miyoshi and Takagi, everyone’s in love trouble.

Ramping up the personal sacrifices and emotional involvement makes this more than just a manga about making comics; it’s a story of teenage life, trying to follow your dreams in every area. I’m finding it disturbingly addictive and surprisingly funny — although part of the humor is me laughing at how silly some of the boys’ self-rationalizations are. They’re not making smart decisions, but that’s part of the entertainment, watching them learn their lessons as they grow up.

This is a very dense work, which makes for a lot of value in these cost-conscious days. Many things happen, there are exciting twists in every chapter (a relic of the story’s serialized origin), and the art is impressive in how many different ways conversations are dramatized. Panels are often two people talking (or worse, one person on a cell phone), with lots of dialogue to convey, and it’s a sign of Takeshi Obata’s skill that they’re still expressive, even with less than an inch of space for the face.

The best part about this series for me is how all these young manga creators, Takagi and Mashiro and their friends-slash-rivals, are still helping each other out even though they all want the same prize of magazine serialization. Their editors want them to avoid talking to each other and just focus on the competition, but the kids have a new vision of how to create, one that involves respect for the skills of others and a more open, modern approach.

Yotsuba&! Book 10

In the first chapter, we simply watch the little girl at play, whether it’s hide-and-seek, playing house, or swinging. Her imagination is always on display, and seeing it is a welcome reminder of how creativity is often connected with play. As always, Azuma does a terrific job capturing just the right moment to show us an energetic Yotsuba, putting us in the action. It takes a special mind to recall how a kid thinks and the jumps in logic they make, and more skill to give it to us in such entertaining ways.

Additional chapters show Yotsuba as she makes pancakes, with a charming determined face as she tells her daddy to let her do it; reminisces with Jumbo, showing him photos of previous adventures and desperately fighting off sleep in order to keep visiting; helps Daddy buy a digital camera (and has a wonderful time trying out all kinds of electronics); gets scared into taking responsibility for breaking a cup, in a chapter that will inspire debate about parenting practices; and welcomes the return of Danbo, the cardboard robot.

I found all of them inspiring, in different ways, recharging my soul.

Professor Munakata’s
British Museum Adventure

His character Professor Munakata, an archeological and historical investigator, has been featured in stories in Japan since 1994. After Yukinobu’s art was displayed at the British Museum as part of a 2009 exhibit, the artist visited the site and created a new story involving the famous setting and some of its best-known artifacts.

This ten-chapter story, Professor Munakata’s British Museum Adventure, is now available in English as one volume, published by the British Museum itself. The Professor has come to England to lecture, only to become involved in an outrageous theft. The giant megaliths of Stonehenge have been stolen, and the thieves threaten to destroy them unless disputed works of art held by the museum are repatriated to their home countries.

It’s a fascinating idea for blackmail, and the underlying question, whether the museum should return significant artifacts to the cultures that produced them, is directly addressed by Munakata early in the book. (Since this book is published by the Museum, which does not return objects from its collections, I bet you can guess what the answer is.) That frees the story to turn to adventure, with an airship battle, secret tunnels, a chase through the museum, threats to famous London landmarks, and other exciting (if unrealistic) events.

The text has a lot of exposition in captions and dialogue, explaining the importance of the location and its holdings as well as providing short history lessons. Munakata’s guide and translator, Chris Caryatid, provides much of the background. (I also appreciated seeing a female character in this male-heavy book.) The art is gorgeously faithful to the famous objects and landscapes of another country. It’s the next best thing to traveling there, and the book serves as a wonderful introduction to one of the most important cultural locations in the world.

The book is black and white, with color pages for the first appearance of Professor Munakata and during the climactic face-off. Additional text materials include how the book came to be, an interview with the artist, a list of his works, and a short article on Japanese print culture through history. Paul Gravett has also posted a short interview with the artist (with pictures). (The publisher provided a review copy.)

The Manga Guide to Biochemistry

Writer Masaharu Takemura explains in the preface what biochemistry is:

the study of the molecules that constitute our bodies … and
the chemical reactions that occur within cells.

While the science itself is full of special names and structures, making for lots of intimidating jargon, Takemura has framed the overall study in a way that makes it immediately approachable. Kumi thinks she’s overweight, so she’s determined to drop some pounds. Her neighbor Nemoto overhears her plans to stop eating and points out that she’ll be able to lose weight more sensibly if she better understands the chemistry of her body.

Kumi isn’t convinced of the value of studying biochemistry, though, until she sees that Nemoto’s instructor is also quite attractive. Professor Kurosaka promises Kumi that understanding how her body works will help her understand healthy eating.

That brings us into the first chapter, “What Happens Inside Your Body?”, which covers cell structure and process, including the chemical reactions of metabolism and (for plants) photosynthesis. The art is helpful both in presenting diagrams of the structures under discussion and in illustrating metaphors to make the material more memorable. Plus, Professor Kurosaka is amusing in her determination to bring Nemoto and Kumi together, since he clearly has a crush on her. As with the other books in the series, text pages elaborate on the material covered.

Chapter 2, “Photosynthesis and Respiration”, goes into more detail on those two processes in light of needing to understand the carbon cycle and protect the ecosystem. It’s not until chapter 3, “Biochemistry in Our Everyday Lives”, that we get back to the promise of the premise, as Kumi learns more about cholesterol, lipids, fatty acids, obesity, and gaining weight. The explanation of blood type is also thrown in, because it turns out that those are based on sugar chains on the surface of our blood cells.

Chapter 4 tackles enzymes, “The Keys to Chemical Reactions”, and proteins, the third major type of nutrient (with lipids and saccharides). There are also sections on catalysts and a small amount of math and graphing to figure out reaction rates. The final chapter works with nucleic acids and genes and explains certain experimental techniques. In an epilogue, Kumi does learn the key to successful dieting, although it’s the same advice we all know and find hard to follow.

I would have liked some mention of the Atkins diet (or similar low/no-carb plans) and how the chemistry behind that works, although perhaps that would have wandered too far away from the key purpose of the book. As it is, this isn’t my favorite in the series, since I found the many specialized names and concepts overwhelming. If I had to learn the subject of biochemistry, though, I would certainly appreciate the illustrated approach.

The publisher has posted a preview and provided this review copy. The next book in the series will be The Manga Guide to Linear Algebra, due out March 2012.

Dawn of the Arcana Book 1

The red-haired Princess Nakaba has been sent in marriage to Prince Caesar to promote peace between their kingdoms. Their lands also have a tribe of people called Ajin, who have animal ears and tails. Nakaba knows that Caesar doesn’t love her, and she may be in danger when he no longer has use for her, so her only friend is her companion Loki, a dog-like Ajin.

Here we have a beautiful (yet non-traditionally opinionated) royal girl, sacrificing her happiness for the good of others, tragic in her circumstances and living in danger, with only a faithful dog who can talk to protect and comfort her. Her husband despises her but is strangely drawn to her, forcing kisses upon her when the two aren’t threatening to kill each other. Doesn’t that sound like rich potential for emotional involvement from an adolescent reader?

There’s a joust, with Nakaba being tasked with congratulating the winner, an unforeseen forced alliance between Loki and Caesar, and an underlying battle for the throne between Caesar and his older brother (unsubtly named Cain). Nakaba is valued for her encouragement of others, while there’s jealousy among the men, who fight over her in non-obvious ways.

The art is clear and simple, focused on our heroine’s face, and detailed when it needs to be — usually in full-figure shots of costumes, to remind us we’re reading about a princess. She’s spunky and fearless, but also fatalistic and prone to fainting in times of over-excitement. Most young women can relate to the feeling of having to appear strong and unaffected in the face of hatred or insults. This version just dresses it up in fantasy trappings, where instead of cutting with words, someone might actually whip out a sword and stab you. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

A Bride’s Story Book 2

The opening chapter brings Amir, the bride of the title, a new friend. Pariya is a talented bread maker Amir meets at the communal ovens. While Amir works to fit in with her new family and tribe, Pariya is not yet married, because of her outspokenness. Amir’s gentle, giving nature is a wonderful contrast for Pariya’s forthright encouragement, and when the two exchange gifts, Amir finds an unusual (but perfectly in keeping with her skills and character) way to respond.

The two new friends then go with Amir’s young husband Karluk and the Englishman Smith to a local mausoleum that draws visitors from far around. Smith’s interested in it for his research, but their trip is interrupted by an event that begins the main storyline of this volume: Amir’s relatives’ attempts to retake her by force. They want to give her in marriage to another tribe they need to improve relations with, and the other young women sent to that tribe have died, so there is no one else left.

That mention is a disturbing reminder of how life-and-death some choices could be in this world. The women are property, able to be handed away or recaptured by fathers, brothers, and uncles. No one’s looking out for them after their marriage takes them to another tribe unless they can bring value in a political alliance. Amir’s new family either respects her desire to stay with them (if you want to take the romantic interpretation) or feels they’re strong enough to retain their new acquisition (if you feel their motives could be political or practical), leading to a battle between the tribes when they refuse to let her be taken back.

This section of the book is a thrilling page-turner as we follow the first abuse of hospitality through the escalation of threats and the town coming together to defend against the invading horsemen with stones and sticks and slop buckets. It’s funny and yet disturbing, as the characters go for each others’ throats. It’s an exciting series of events, but it also marks a significant turning point in the relationship between Amir and Karluk, in a sequence told mostly wordlessly in a followup chapter. It’s a challenge to the reader to bring their own emotional interpretation to the actions shown.

Kaoru Mori’s luscious art puts the reader directly into this exotic historical culture of nomad herders. Her eye for detail is particularly important in the later chapters, exploring the embroidered textiles that serve as both dowry and family record. These beautiful art pieces are compared to the letters Smith receives from his far-distant family members, both marking relationships. Since the cloth expectations are high, girls work on their embroidery from a young age, so that they have enough of the goods to make them desirable brides when the time comes to marry. The patterns used establish connections across generations, as well as demonstrating the personalities of the artists creating them, while the act of sewing is something the women do together, building community.

The adorably illustrated author’s notes at the back cover some of the customs Mori writes about in the story. She also hints that she wants to follow anthropologist Mr. Smith off on his travels instead of sticking around with Amir, so we’ll have to wait and see what happens in the third book when it comes out next spring.

Given that, I wasn’t looking forward to trying Tesoro, a collection of her short stories. I only decided to read it because Natsume Ono was the subject of this month’s Manga Moveable Feast. Imagine my surprise to find that I enjoyed reading it more than any of her other works.

Tesoro

While some reviewers have said that this volume isn’t a good introduction to the author, I disagree. I think it’s the format best suited to her work. She’s very good with noting and portraying just the right incident, not so much with longer narratives. That approach makes her longer stories seem disconnected, at the worst resembling pointless wandering, but in a short story, it’s the perfect skill to have.

The color pages that open the volume demonstrate an obsession with food that trails subtly throughout the book, whether it’s “Three Short Stories About Bento” (where we learn how emotional people can get about lunch, and how making food for a loved one shows you care) or a chef turning down a catering job or a pastry shop owner’s daughter binging on dessert after another broken relationship.

The story that really hit me, though, was “Moyashi Couple”, a piece about two older spouses worrying whether the neighbors think they get along. They have different interests, you see, and while they’re comfortable with the way they interact, they also decide to make a show of caring for each other to reassure those around them. “Moyashi” means “bean sprout”, and the story starts with the wife telling her husband that the neighbors are worried they’re not getting enough to eat, since they’re both skinny. Ono’s style is very well-suited for slender older people, with her spare lines giving them an elegance, and her showing how much they care for each other through eating strawberries together is subtle and nuanced.

Another poignant heartbreaker is the second of the bento stories. At his son’s request, a father makes him a lunch that looks like his departed mother. The way this plays out is touching and funny all at once, telling us more through what the characters don’t say than what they do. I wish all the stories in the book were as good as these two, but the later ones come from earlier in her career, so the first ones are the strongest and best-told.

Another set of tales shows us various people who need help of some kind — an orphan girl desparately seeking a father figure, a doctor taking care of an ill son, a professor in a bookstore who appears lonely, a widower hoping his son will help him reconnect with his father, a boy getting out of jail. The particular conflicts are sometimes unusual, as with the last. The debate there is, if your parents and your friends come to pick you up on your release from prison, whose car do you get into? That’s a creative idea, but it’s really just a mechanism to portray different kinds of relationships.

Sometimes it seems that Ono is playing a game, either with us or herself, to see just how few panels she needs to tell us what we need to know about a character or a situation. Sometimes, I think, she doesn’t give us quite enough notes, and I can’t quite name the tune. Other stories beg to go on just a little bit longer than what we’ve read. Some of the work is frustrating, but overall, the volume is a good indication of Ono’s strengths and weaknesses, her approach and favorite topics. For more information on that subject, here’s another review by David Welsh, Ono fan. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

The Drops of God Book 1

I might have enjoyed Drops of God more if I didn’t recall Oishinbo so well, because there are a number of close similarities. Both have super-talented (due to their father’s training) pouty young men as their heroes. In both, characterization comes a far second to essay-like sections praising particular items of consumption or methods of creation or providing trivia behind the food or drink. Both lead characters are forced into using their tasting skills and food/flavor knowledge in competition with their fathers. The difference between the two is that, in Oishinbo, the father is still alive and actively annoying his son. In Drops of God, the father has recently passed on, leaving a bombshell in his will.

The dad, Yutaka Kanzaki, is a hugely famous wine critic. His son Shizuku hates wine, working instead in sales for a beer company. To inherit the father’s unique wine collection and his other property, Shizuku must identify, based on clues left in the will, 12 great wines and one, “The Drops of God”, that stands above them all. Shizuku will be competing against Issei Tomine, a younger critic (who was also adopted by Yutaka a week before Yutaka’s death, a particularly odd twist that is barely mentioned, let alone explored).

Issei’s presence taunts Shizuku into accepting the challenge instead of leaving his father and wine behind once and for all. This setup allows for other stories to be told within the framework of the bigger contest. For example, in this volume, old lovers come to understand each other’s choices through their wine selections.

While this book has a lot of hooks and a ton of potential, this first volume is disappointing. The art is static and not exceptional. It gets the job done but rarely stands out at any point as particularly skilled. The few impressive pages are when we see a visual symbolizing what a character is tasting, particularly when one wine is compared to a Queen song. The characters are flatly two-dimensional. The writing is perfunctory and the plotting mechanical. Additionally, if you’re not already a wine fan, you will likely find the profuse adjectives used to describe the fermented grape juice over-written and annoying.

The worst part of the book is the lettering, which at times is almost criminally bad. The font resembles Comic Sans, and there are numerous points in the book where the text actually runs into the balloon borders. I know it can’t be easy to translate and re-letter a dialogue-heavy work where the adjective choices are particularly important, especially given how many more letters English needs compared to Japanese characters, but when two connected balloons are so tightly lettered that the sentences or phrases are running into each other, that’s just hard to read. The all-caps narration boxes are particularly ugly.

On the other hand, I do hope we see more of Miyabi, the sommelier in training. Mostly, she narrates to the reader, provides a source of tasting material, worries about losing her job, and models the occasional panty shot. Overall, there’s a nice mix of female characters in this series who do more than just support the male competitors, including the lawyer who manages the contest and a wine-crazy young actress. There’s also a crazy-looking homeless man who turns out to be a genius with near-magical access to just the wine needed and an fannish co-worker obsessed with Italy who looks to provide some entertaining conflict in the next book.

I like wine. I’ve recently been following the recommendations of an excellent local wine shop to explore flavors and determine my personal tastes. But when I buy wine, it’s usually $11-20 a bottle, not the hundreds or thousands of dollars in prices quoted here. (All prices are given in yen, so divide by 100 to get an approximate dollar value.) As someone who wants to learn more about wine, this book is of little help, because I’m not looking for “best in the world” quality or knowledge of labels highly praised by critics. The vintages discussed are mostly classic French and other European, playing to status-seekers and snobs. Often, price plays too big a role for me to be comfortable, emphasizing the commercial aspects of wine instead of its other virtues. I’d be interested in reading a comic like this written instead about U.S. vineyards.

Still, this is only the first volume. I’m trying the second, to see how this series matures, and it is a good value, at under $15 for over 400 pages. The publisher has posted preview pages at their website.

Because of a mischievous angel, Princess Sapphire is born with two hearts: a boy’s heart and a girl’s heart. In the realm of Silverland, only males may become rulers. Since Sapphire is the King’s only child, she’s raised as a boy. Her boyish heart allows her to excel at fencing and other ‘manly’ activities. Her girlish heart and body wishes she could admit to being a girl, so she can wear dresses and go to dances.

Princess Knight Book 1

Lurking in the shadows is Duke Duralumin, who wants his son to be king. He suspects that Sapphire is really a girl and sends his henchman, Sir Nylon, to discover the truth. However, Sapphire and the royal household are too clever to fall for Sir Nylon’s schemes. The Duke’s desperation for the throne leads him to plot the murder of Sapphire. And that’s just the opening chapters of Sapphire’s incredible adventures.

Princess Knight is Tezuka’s love letter to Disney and Western literature. Everything from the artwork to the characters to the plot reads like an epic fairy-tale adventure. Here are just a few of the references I found in this book: the Disney films Cinderella, Snow White, and Pinocchio, William Tell, Captain Blood, Hamlet, and Swan Lake. It’s fun to watch Tezuka weave these influences together to create a rich and cohesive tapestry.

The art is Tezuka at his most Disneyesque. The character designs remind me most of the “Pastoral Symphony” section of Fantasia. It’s a cutesy realism. There are some breathtaking panels and splash pages. As with all his works, you can just flip through the book and get a sense of the story. Tezuka believed in having the visuals tell the story more than dialogue or narration, and he pulls out all his cinematic techniques in this manga.

While the book has one continuous storyline, it’s told in a very episodic manner. Each narrative arc within the greater story feels like a different story genre, which keeps the series exciting. We start out with royal intrigue and romance, then move into the adventures of a masked crusader for justice. Next is a fairy tale complete with an evil witch, and finally, swashbuckling adventures on the high seas. The book is a roller coaster, constantly delivering thrills at each turn.

If Astro Boy is the superhero who is seemingly perfect, then Sapphire is the very human hero with frailties. She can be a fierce swordswoman one minute and a hapless damsel the next. She is kind, loyal, and pure of hearts (remember she has two). She struggles to determine what the right thing to do is. She even wrestles with understanding herself and who she wants to be.

At first glance, it appears Tezuka is asserting traditional gender roles. In Sapphire, it seems only one heart may be active at a time. While her boy heart holds sway, she is one of the finest swordsmen in the country. If her girl heart takes control, she is barely able to defend herself. However, it’s all the same person, Sapphire.

Looking more closely, we discover that Sapphire is not responding to which heart is more dominant. Whether she realizes it or not, both hearts are equally active all the time. Instead, Sapphire is acting as the people around her perceive her. If she is seen as a boy, then she is able to be strong and fierce. If she is seen as a girl, then she is frail and submissive. Tezuka is critiquing the false dichotomy that society creates among male and female. Sapphire needs to learn to be true to herself and not let others dictate who she is or what she can do.

It’s this message of gender equality that’s the secret to Princess Knight’s appeal. Tezuka is telling girls that they have the potential to be what they want. The only limits women have are the ones they place upon themselves. Helen McCarthy mentions the influence of the Takarazuka Revue. Perhaps it’s a lesson he learned while watching the female actors portraying men and women equally. He saw women being kings, warriors, fathers, princesses, maids, and mothers. As a young boy, seeing women be anyone on the stage shaped his belief they could be anyone in real life.

As Helen McCarthy points out, Princess Knight is one of the most influential shoujo manga of all time. It inspired series like Rose of Versailles and Revolutionary Girl Utena. Tezuka has created a gripping story that is almost impossible to put down. When the book is over, you’re left anxiously waiting for volume two. It’s truly a masterpiece. With its pseudo-European setting and numerous references to Western literature, Princess Knight is Tezuka’s most accessible work for American readers. This is a master of the comic genre at his peak. All comic fans owe it to themselves to read Princess Knight.

Like Johanna, I discovered Love Hina early in my anime/manga fandom. I had only been a fan a couple of years when the anime was released, and it was love at first sight. I remember getting the manga as each volume came out and loving Akamatsu’s art and storytelling.

Kodansha’s re-release of the series is like having a mirror that lets me look at my past self. I’m given an opportunity to examine my tastes as an early fan. Truth be told, I was hoping to discover I had great taste from the beginning. Or, at least, come up with a justification of my earlier choices.

Love Hina Omnibus Volume 1

When I first encountered Love Hina, I hadn’t sampled that widely the anime and manga available. I had stuck mostly to the sci-fi genre and some widely praised series like Ranma 1/2. So I didn’t know much about harem comedies or the hyperactive humor used by Akamatsu.

I remember being captivated by it all. I had never experienced a cartoon or comic like Love Hina. I was caught up in that honeymoon phase of a new hobby when everything you experience is wonderful. I was still learning about Japanese culture; Love Hina was my first introduction to hot springs, university enterance exams, and New Year temple visits. It was all new and I wanted more.

Ten years later, how does Love Hina hold up for me? Not as well as I had hoped.

On page 142 of the omnibus, Akamatsu tells us it took 20 submissions and two editorial meetings to finally get Love Hina accepted. That’s not really hard to believe. The setup for the series feels like it was composed by a committee seeking to engineer a hit manga by including all the female stereotypes fanboys love. You have everything from the older, slightly sluttly woman (Kitsune) to the shy, unsure, younger sister (Shinobu). The main love interest is the secretly sexy librarian type. Take off those Coke-bottle glasses and frumpy clothes, and you’ve unwrapped a Playboy playmate.

Our protagonist is the everyman loser that fanboys can both easily identify with and feel superior to. Keitaro isn’t a very good student. He’s not athletic. He’s average-looking and has never had a girlfriend. He has lots of self-doubts. However, he is also romantic, a hard worker, sincere, and has a good heart.

Now take our cast and figure out a setting that allows for maximum fanservice and comedic high jinks. How about an all-girls dorm that was formerly a hot springs inn? It’s the perfect setup for lots of chances for nudity and misunderstandings. At this point in my fandom, it’s a little hard not to be cynical about the whole premise of Love Hina. It feels designed to exploit male fans.

I find that I don’t have much patience any more for the storytelling in Love Hina. Keitaro’s constant tripping and exposing one of the girls gets old before the end of the first volume. Naru’s screaming “pervert” and hitting Keitaro into the sky gets old even quicker. If I wasn’t reviewing this omnibus, I would have quit before getting to the halfway point. I’m shocked I was previously able to read 14 volumes of this.

I can also see the appeal this story had, and to some extent still has, for me. Akamatsu is able to breathe life into these stereotypes. Keitaro’s sincerity and naiveté come across as believable, which is hard to do. Naru isn’t just the cute smart girl. She also has her own fears and doubts. Even Shinobu takes on more depth as we get to know her. Akamatsu’s skill crafting likable characters that transcend their stereotypes is the real secret to his success.

The best story arc in the omnibus is when Naru and Keitaro run away after both fail the entrance exam to Tokyo University. The fanservice and slapstick are toned down, giving the characters a chance to come alive. There is also room for their relationship to develop. It was a refreshing and much welcomed change of pace.

Another reason I loved Love Hina was the artwork. Even now, there is no denying that Akamatsu is a skilled artist. He has no weakness. Everything in the book is done well from character designs to page layouts to beautiful backgrounds. He adeptly handles comedy, drama, and quiet emotional moments. The book is still gorgeous and feels fresh.

At its core, Love Hina has an appealing story of a burgeoning romance. Unfortunately, that’s only 10% of the book. You have to wade through a lot of muck for so little gold. I’ve since discovered many manga that tell the same basic story much better. I won’t be re-reading the series. As I said before, I don’t have the patience. I’m hoping this is a sign of my maturity as a manga reader. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

I’m not sure the larger size does the story any favors. There are 14 books of this, and they’re pretty formula. Klutzy Keitaro falls down a lot, and he usually manages to accidentally grab some piece of female anatomy on the way. Reading this over and over doesn’t make it any fresher. Plus, I found the bigger book harder to read without damage to the spine. This thing has almost 600 pages, and the thin cover stock seems overpowered by the size.

Love Hina Omnibus Volume 1

I actually read all 14 of these books from 2002-2003, when Tokyopop put them out. KC was working at a comic shop at that time, and he brought them home. It may have been the first manga series I read start to finish, come to think of it. (Isn’t that odd?) Aksmatsu does have an attractive, easy-reading style, classic manga to American eyes, and it wasn’t a bad beginning. I wasn’t so aware of the formula back then, either, or the term “harem comedy”, denoting a large number of attractive women as supporting characters to the male hero.

As happens often in manga aimed at younger readers, Keitaro had one of those childhood friends he made a vow to but can’t remember the name of. They promised each other they’d meet at Todai (University), only Keitaro has tried twice to get in and failed. Now, he’s retreated to his grandmother’s Japanese inn — only unknown to him, she’s turned it into an all-girl dorm.

Keitaro’s a schlub, good at nothing, and all he really wants is a girlfriend. Now, he’s living with a bunch of girls, many of whom exist (in a story sense) so he can run into their cleavage or accidentally see boobs or butt. This is teen boy wish-fulfillment, and it’s quite satisfying at what it sets out to do. It’s just that I no longer have such open standards or catholic tastes for what I’m willing to spend time reading. There’s a lot more manga out now than there used to be, so it’s almost imperative to be more selective.

I’m only talking about it now because 1) it’s the current Manga Moveable Feast and 2) I wanted to see it again, almost 10 years later, since I didn’t remember much of the details from my first read-through. My memories of reading it, back when manga was all new and intriguing to me, were better than the practice, but isn’t that always the way?

Comparing this edition to the previous Tokyopop volumes, I noticed the following changes (most of which today’s readers will consider improvements):

• Hinata House is now Hinata Inn.
• The honorifics have returned; she’s Shinobu-Chan instead of simply Shinobu.
• What was Tokyo University in the old books is now Todai, its nickname, with a translation note about its meaning.
• It’s not quite so casual. Instead of “this has gotta be the hotel Grandma runs”, we get “so this is the Japanese inn owned by Grandma.”
• Sound effects are translated, in small script next to the Japanese characters.

I slightly prefer the more colloquial older version, but I know authenticity is a bigger watchword these days, and Kodansha did the right thing getting a new translation, if only to give people like me a reason to check out the new edition. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

There’s a lot of observing other parents’ struggles in the tales contained here. All these characters that come into Daikichi’s life are to show him how parenting — often single parenting — can work. They all make sacrifices, but they barely notice, because it’s so rewarding.

Bunny Drop Book 4

I’m impressed to see how rapidly Yumi Unita is moving Rin’s growing up along. However, as she becomes a young woman, she’s running into expectations regarding her role — and that was the part of the book I was most disappointed by. There are a lot of restrictions based on gender expectations in this volume. At times, I wasn’t sure that the author was aware of how stereotypical the portrayals shown are.

For instance, the first, two-chapter story brings Daikichi’s cousin Haruko and Haruko’s daughter Reina to visit. Haruko needs to escape from her conservative, constricting life for a bit. She’s a wife and mother, expected to take care of her child and kowtow to her husband’s family, whom they live with. Since Daikichi doesn’t understand her concerns (and doesn’t even want to listen to the full story), the reader never really does, either. She’s just one of the many women who are inspired and helped by Daikichi. (Since part of her concern is that her husband ignores her, it’s weird that the reader and Daikichi do, too, never really listening.) Her “happy” ending, to learn to ignore her emotions for the sake of the child, doesn’t feel like much of a solution.

While lip service is paid to how strong these women are for raising children, and all the many worries and challenges that entails, the naive Daichiki, who’s still wondering whether he can raise a child successfully a year into doing it, is the one who provides the example that answers these women’s questions and takes care of them in addition to Rin. I know he’s the central figure in a series that runs in a magazine aimed at male readers, so he needs to be the protagonist, but it’s a bit unnerving, that he’s the center and every woman in the book either needs his help (the cousin, the neighbor — although to be fair, that’s after she’s helped him with Rin’s cold) or is there to take care of him (his mother).

My concerns were really summed up in one small scene during the jump rope story, though. It’s otherwise a neat piece, about how various parents and children all come together at the park to help the kids, boys and girls, practice jumping rope. Until a moment where everyone takes a break, and the groups separate by gender. The boys and men play basketball, while the girls and women play what we called Chinese jump rope. (It’s the game where two girls put elastic cords around their ankles, and another girl jumps in and out of the large loop they form.) I was surprised by how girly Rin was drawn. With all her energy, I expected her to be playing ball with the guys instead of looking like she was posing for a catalog.

The art could be inconsistent at times, with heads sometimes not being quite the shape they should be, but key moments had the necessary emphasis on expressive faces, and Rin is always cute. I did get a little tired of shocked or screaming Daikichi, though, with wide-open mouth and sweat drops to indicate his extreme feelings. On the positive side, I enjoyed seeing so many different kinds of parents and families, all shown as viable options. That’s something to celebrate.