***This review contains spoilers***

Yukari Hayasaka was a typical high school student until she was scouted by the student group “Paradise Kiss” to be their model for the Yazawa School for the Arts (Yaza Arts) senior fashion show. Meeting these four friends has Yukari questioning everything about her life. The series follows these five people through their final year of high school.

Paradise Kiss Book 1
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At its heart, Paradise Kiss is a coming-of-age story for Yukari. The catalyst for her metamorphosis is the community formed by four Yaza Arts students. It’s the first time she sees people who are creating their own future. Yukari has always just followed the path outlined for her by her mother. The members of Paradise Kiss support and accept each other unconditionally. Their passion makes Yukari reexamine her own life.

Paradise Kiss is a meticulously crafted series. Unfortunately, it’s rare in manga to have a series where the author has mapped out the entire story from beginning to end. It’s not only the plot; the relationships are well-thought-out, too. It’s a great pleasure to see the events and relationships unfold and evolve naturally. It makes for a satisfying read with a real sense of finality.

The series has the feeling of a fairy tale. Not the light, frothy ones that get told today, but the original ones that blended a sense of reality and fantasy to create compelling, yet reassuring, stories. Realism is seen in the way George’s and Yuraki’s relationship progresses and ends. It’s further seen in the fact that Paradise Kiss doesn’t become an overnight fashion hit. The lack of a Hollywood perfect ending is part of what makes this a satisfying read.

The fantasy element is seen in the safety net that Yazawa gives her characters. Each one is attractive, talented, and from well-off families. You never worry about their futures. It’s easy to see that the members of Paradise Kiss will each succeed in the fashion industry in some way. They may not all be top name designers, but their talents will ensure they will always have a job. Yukari falls into being a fashion model and instantly finds success. Even if any of the people should fail, their families have enough money to ensure they will be taken care of for the rest of their lives.

Yazawa’s art is nothing short of amazing. She knows how to draw beautiful people and dazzling clothes. The characters all have an incredible sense of fashion. Yazawa is also able to portray a wide range of styles, and she fills this manga with incredible eye candy. Beyond just being a outstanding draftswoman, Yazawa is also an excellent visual storyteller. She has nice clean page layouts that are as well-designed as the character’s clothes.

Paradise Kiss is an engaging and satisfying series. Yazawa has crafted a manga that is subtle and mature in both storytelling and visuals. These characters come across more as college seniors instead of high school seniors. It’s a shame that the series is currently out of print. It’s a very accessible series for people unfamiliar with manga in general and more specifically the women’s manga genre. Paradise Kiss would be enjoyed by anyone who loves well-created stories.

This review was posted as part of the Paradise Kiss Manga Moveable Feast. Johanna previously reviewed the series as well. Ai Yazawa’s current series, if you’d like to read more of her work, is Nana.

Twin Spica Book 2
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I like the quiet, deliberate pacing with which this story is told. It gives events a certain gravity that emphasizes the emotions. Asumi is receiving a chance at her greatest wish, but that comes with sacrifices, such as leaving her home. Mostly, that means her dad, who can’t travel with her to the entrance ceremony, but she also says goodbye to Mr. Lion, her guide/imaginary friend/educational ghost? Although she’s physically small, she’s quickly growing up, even though her size causes trouble for her — equipment is standardized, and anyone outside the norm doesn’t fit, literally.

The pacing also allows for text that explains the science fiction concepts, the ways Asumi’s world differs from ours, without disrupting the story. Just as physical settings are shown through establishing shots, so are the contextual settings, providing needed background and emotional pauses.

Like Asumi, I also went away to school at the age of 15. The small moments, after her father’s farewell, where she acknowledges her homesickness but won’t give in to it, were quite reminiscent and powerful. In her case, she’s got two other girls to keep her company, and much of this book transitions into a school shojo, following Asumi through classes and workouts and making friends. The goodness of her heart and the purity of her dreams makes her a charming young lady to follow on adventure.

The plot twist this volume involves her family ties and someone who holds a grudge. Two bonus stories flash back to Asumi’s childhood, shedding more light on her drive and desires, as well as Mr. Lion and what he gave her. And she’s even more adorable as a second grader, all round head and tiny limbs and smile or tears. The second, “Our Stars, Leaf Stars”, shows two little girls trying to be friends in the face of the life-changing rocket ship accident and tells us more about how hard the years since have been for her father.

On one level, this is a rather straightforward student-growing-up story with a light science fiction overlay, but the emotional component is more subtle and realistic than what that description suggests.

Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei Book 7
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Out of the varied subjects in this volume, this list are those that particularly worked for me. I understood the problems and could relate them to happenings in my own life, making these chapters even funnier to me:

• Techno-stress, being inconvenienced by a machine that doens’t work the way you expect, or changing your behavior because of it, like trying to find better cell phone reception by moving around, or having to borrow a computer to make an online appointment to get your computer fixed
• Having the wrong priorities, especially when that gets in the way of getting work done when you’ve got too much to do, even when you’re the manga artist of this actual story (in some amusing self-referentiality)
• The danger of inheritance, taking houses or positions just because your parents had them
• The humanities athletic festival, with demented competitions such as the email chain message relay, which leads into classifying everything into one of three categories: scientific, artsy, or athletic
• The way entertainment wanders away from its original form, in a short little Halloween story

The art in the opening chapter, featuring kimono’ed characters at a nighttime festival involving floating lanterns, is particularly striking in the highly graphic, flat black-and-white, high-contrast approach Koji Kumeta uses. Between the patterned robes and the strange icons (representing the “unconnected dead”, those who missed out on their desires) lying in the grass in the dark, it was very atmospheric. In his typical contrary nature, Sensei manages to release the icons’ spirits not by giving them what they wanted but by convincing them they were better off not wanting what they desired at all. It’s very Buddhist, showing what might result from being free of attachment.

I’m also finding that I need my magnifying glass to pick up all the detail in certain panels, especially the ones with lists of examples and cute little labeled drawings. I recommend good lighting to read this series. That way, you’ll also be able to better appreciate the subtly colored covers. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Rebecca appears at Angus’s detective agency with amnesia. It’s raining, she’s missing a shoe, she doesn’t know who she is, but she has a card with his name and address on it in her pocket. He drops her off at a homeless shelter but can’t leave her there when he sees how much she needs help. I don’t know how many people remember the 1991 movie Dead Again, where the same roles were played by Emma Thompson and Kenneth Branagh, but it’s always been a favorite of mine. I think that similarity of premise was one reason I found this romance (originally published in 1998) so easy to get into.

I noticed, when comparing this to some of the Digital Manga yaoi on my online review copy list, that I found it easier to read on my laptop screen. The serif font used in the word balloons doesn’t always fit the shapes, but it is bold and larger in size, which makes it easy to read without squinting. The fewer panels and simpler images also helped; after all, with a romance, the reader already knows some of what’s going to happen, so they need more guidance than exact pictures. Mostly, it’s faces. The heroine is beautiful and needs to be taken care of; the hero is dark, moody, and manly with a sensitive side — he’s a single father — and a tragic past.

Angus wants to help Rebecca recover her memory and find out who was chasing her, although he knows that when he does, he risks losing her. Thus, the conflict that keeps them from falling in love immediately. It might have been nice if he took her to a hospital at some point, though.

It’s a quick read, breezy and predictable, but it satisfies the formula nicely in getting to its happy ending, with a bit of mystery to liven up the love story.

Itazura Na Kiss Book 2
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In the first book, we were introduced to dumb but well-meaning Kotoko and her crush, super-smart Naoki. The two wound up living in the same house since their fathers are best friends. As this book opens, we’re reminded of the situation and its complications as Naoki’s mother helps Kotoko plan for Valentine’s Day. Coincidentally, it’s also the day before Naoki’s entrance exam for a prestigious college.

I did enjoy seeing how Mom is so vehemently pro-Kotoko, to the point of almost pimping her son out. She’s found the girl she likes and wants as a daughter-in-law, and she’s determined to get them together, regardless of what either thinks their choice is. It’s refreshing to see a parent in manga who’s not an obstacle. It also gives some idea of where Naoki gets his determination and ego from.

Unfortunately, we still don’t have much more sense of why Naoki is so cold and remote. Mom ponders early on that he’s so talented that he doesn’t have to want anything, because everything comes easy to him. Kotoko is one thing that shakes him out of his complacency. Strangely, she sees what Kotoko does for Naoki, and how she benefits from his presence, but she doesn’t seem to consider important his desire to be with someone close to his intellectual equal. For all that he’s considered a prince because of his brains, there are some anti-smart messages going on here, including valuing Kotoko without encouraging her to improve herself.

I don’t know if frustration is sufficient basis for a relationship, but it helps explain why he keeps putting up with her: she provides something different to his life. It’s the classic “opposites attract”, although the attraction here isn’t yet fully developed. When the young couple does have a romantic or hopeful moment, it’s usually because Naoki is being contrary and wants to annoy either her or someone else.

But getting back to the first chapter, Kotoko demonstrates her good-heartedness by attempting a good deed for “little brother” Yuuki that backfires. Her continued determination then changes Naoki’s life through needing his help at just the wrong moment. The book quickly moves through graduation, starting college, and the introduction of gorgeous, brilliant rival Yuko, a girl much more like Naoki who has her heart set for him. Various additional complications arise, including the question of moving out of the shared house and a rival for Kotoko’s attentions as well, an apprentice chef who works at her father’s restaurant.

Although so much happens, it’s a very brisk, easy read. The art is always clear, with plenty of emotion, expression, and comedy. The second half of the book is tennis-centric, as Kotoko follows Naoki (who’s also athletically talented) into the sports club, not realizing how hard she was going to have to work. There’s a few matches and a training camp, all of which provide opportunities for the two to be thrown together. The tennis, along with some of the fashions, points to the original 80s period of creation, but it’s not particularly dated unless you’re looking for those hints. I found the classic soap opera involving, entertaining, and good value. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Chi’s Sweet Home Book 1
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This small volume, comfortable to hold, is surprisingly in full color, not the usual manga black-and-white. The book contains 20 eight-page chapters, each featuring a small incident. The kitten Chi has wandered away from her mother and siblings, only to be adopted by a family (dad, mom, young boy) who aren’t allowed to have pets in their apartment.

I found a couple of things unpleasant about the tales. The first is the cat’s name. It seems “Chi” means “pee”, as she’s named during a toilet-training incident with the family’s toddler. Also, if you’re not into cute, you will absolutely hate the way Chi’s internal monologue is written to sound like a baby with a lisp: “That was scarewy”, referring to the park as “the gwassy pwace”, “I think I’ll shtay here for a wittle while more”, etc. Often, these thoughts are unnecessary — it’s obvious through the cartooning when she’s lost, scared, and so on, so the text becomes repetitive. As do some of the situations.

The cat’s thoughts are often anthropomorphized, which led me to wonder why the mother cat just left without this kitten. If the baby is capable of logic and reaction, why isn’t the parent? More significantly, it’s hard to fully get into “aw, cute” mode about the cat’s behavior when her actions are frequently interrupted by her thinking how much she misses mom. That’s a downer. It also makes it difficult to consider the pet and the parents all part of one family, since there’s something so important to Chi that they’re unaware of. It works against the main flow of the book, that we’re watching how they all get to know and decide to keep each other.

The incidents themselves are familiar: cats hate baths, cats have claws, pets hate the vet, kittens are easily distracted by food or toys. The most creative moment in the book was the way Chi’s desire to sit in the windowsill, which risks exposing her presence to the neighbors, was camouflaged … only that reminded me of a movie. Perhaps this is all more amusing if you actually have a cat, so you get that glint of recognition: “oh, this is just like when Snoogie-Woogums scratched my armoire that time.” I do like some animal manga, but this one may have worked better for me if the cat wasn’t quite so cartoony. I expected something fresher and less familiar than I got. This feels like the Japanese Garfield.

When Aang found out he was the Avatar, he couldn’t handle the responsibility and ran away. While on the run, he got caught in a terrible sea storm and to save his life, his Avatar power put him in a state of suspended animation. That was a century ago.

Now Aang has awaken to find that the Fire Nation has killed all his fellow airbenders and is on the brink of world domination. Assisted by Katara and Sokka of the Water Nation, Aang must complete his Avatar training if he hopes to defeat the Fire Nation and restore balance to the world.

The Last Airbender
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Avatar: The Last Airbender is a Nickelodeon cartoon that first aired in 2005. Even though the series finale aired in 2008, Nickelodeon continues to air repeats of the show today. This summer, the live-action film The Last Airbender was released. Three recent Del Rey manga have been released as tie-ins. The Last Airbender OEL is based primarily on the movie. The Last Airbender Prequel is an original story set in the same world as the live-action film. Avatar: The Last Airbender is a comic that takes stills from the TV show and adds word balloons to retell the TV episode in book format. This sometimes called a cine-manga or ani-manga.

The Last Airbender

story by Dave Roman & Alison Wilgus; art by Joon Choi; $8.99 US

The Last Airbender comic shares the same flaw as the movie; the story is mostly plot with little room for character-building. We aren’t given any time to know and connect with the characters before they’re rushing off at lightning speed to save the world. This makes it hard to sympathize with their pain and grief at various points in the book.

The comic is slightly faster-paced than the movie. At times, there are odd transitions from panel to panel on the same page. The dialogue will abruptly change subject at places. It feels like a panel or two is missing. It makes me think there was a page limit set to the book and some sloppy edits were made to make the story fit the predetermined page count.

Having seen the film, I can say the comic is a fairly faithful adaptation, although I think the writers were working from an early version of the script and not the final draft. There are a couple of elements in the comic that aren’t in the movie. These pieces are extraneous to the story and should have been cut from the comic, too. One example is Katara losing her necklace only to have Aang return it later. Another is the introduction of the Kyoshi Warriors, who appear for four pages and are gone.

Choi is using a shojo art style in The Last Airbender. The artwork is solid. Choi is best with facial expressions with one exception; her exaggerated faces are awkward-looking and distracting. They are meant to be funny but never are. Choi is a competent shonen/action artist, but I’d really like to see her do a romance series, since that seems more natural for her style.

The Last Airbender Prequel: Zuko’s Story

Zuko’s Story
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story by Dave Roman & Alison Wilgus; art by Nin Matsumoto; $10.99 US

Zuko’s Story is a slightly better reading experience. It’s not as plot-driven as The Last Airbender, but nonetheless, it fails at its primary task, making Zuko a sympathetic villian. The biggest problem is that Zuko’s obsession to gain favor in his father’s eyes isn’t believable. Zuko’s father, the lord of the Fire Nation, is a grade-A jerk. It’s obvious that he doesn’t have much affection for Zuko, or that he ever will. In fact, Zuko knows of his father’s disdain for him. So Zuko’s desperation for his approval doesn’t make sense. Zuko’s psychology needs to be fleshed out more.

Compounding the problem is that Zuko treats everyone around him poorly. He treats his uncle Iroh, whom he literally owes his life to, as a lackey. He repays his uncle’s kindness with insults. The ship’s company are essentially non-beings for Zuko. He treats them like part of the ship’s machinery. Everyone is just an obstacle or a bother to him. I don’t see how the crew or his uncle stay by his side.

Matsumoto’s art style is more Western-looking. There is no use of screen tones here. The pure black and white is dramatic-looking and adds emotional impact to the story. Matsumoto is very good and shows potential to be a great visual storyteller. I’ll be on the lookout for more work by this artist.

Avatar: The Last Airbender Volume 1

created by Michael Dante DiMartino & Bryan Komietzko; $7.99 US

Avatar cine-manga
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The Avatar cine-manga was the most enjoyable book of the three. It brought to mind all the strengths and weakness of the animated series. The great appeal of the Avatar series was the character and world-building. The cartoon was slow-paced and let the viewer spend a lot of time getting to know the central cast and to bond deeply with them.

That said, the show at times forgot that there’s supposed to be a grand narrative going on in the background and that Aang had limited time to master his Avatar powers. The show got so caught up in the character and world-building that it tended to forgot about plot. Every once in a while, I would find myself wondering if Aang was ever going to study any other form of element bending, let alone master all of them.

To get a sense of the pacing difference between the live-action movie and the TV show, it takes the Avatar cine-manga 86 pages to tell the same narrative that the The Last Airbender comic covers in ten pages. Personally, I prefer a story that errs on the side of character development over plot.

There isn’t much to say about art in the Avatar cine-manga. The show is well-animated. The book’s uncredited art editor does a good job of making a book from a TV show.

I would recommend that people simply stick with the source material and watch the original TV show. There you can see the creators, DiMartino and Konietzko, directly shape the story and characters. Second best is the cine-manga. The charm of the cartoon was the wonderful cast of characters. By focusing on plot, the other versions of Avatar take the heart out of the series. So don’t waste your time on a lifeless copy when the real thing is so readily available to enjoy.

Kenji Miyazawa (1896-1933) is a beloved poet and children’s author in Japan. His most popular work is the children’s novel Night of the Milky Way Railroad, which was adapted into the animated film Night on the Galactic Railroad. The Manga Biography of Kenji Miyazawa is a brief, but surprisingly complex and information-rich, look at the writer’s life.

The Manga Biography
of Kenji Miyazawa
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Yano’s biography is both a chronological telling of the life of Kenji Miyazawa and a look at some of his influences. We learn that Miyazawa pulled his fair share of pranks as kid. As a sign of his father’s success, he was sent off to boarding school at age 13 and became deeply fascinated with Mt. Iwate. In fact, later when he was seriously ill, he believed the spirit of Mt. Iwate came and cured him. After high school graduation, Miyazawa worked in the family business, but that didn’t last long.

Miyazawa’s adult life was an eclectic mix of careers. He first started off as a mimeograph stencil maker in Tokyo. Next, he became a teacher at the Hienuki Agrarian School. He left teaching to become a farmer. While farming, he would guest lecture at nearby farming communities, do soil analysis, and give advice on what fertilizers to use. He fell ill and had to give up farming. He briefly worked as a traveling salesman before his health required that he quit that job, too. It was the last job he ever held. He died of pneumonia at age 37.

Miyazawa was a devout Buddhist. He was raised on the teaching of the Jodo Shinshu sect. However, Miyazawa converted to Nichiren Buddhism in his teens. His devotion to the teachings of Nichiren caused strife with his father and are what lead him to Tokyo as an adult. His religious beliefs would also be reflected in his writings.

Miyazawa wrote in his spare time. During his lifetime, he borrowed money from his father and self-published two books. One was a collection of children’s short stories, the other a selection of his poems. Neither book sold well during his life. It’s not clear when, but sometime after his death, his writings did attract the attention of the literary world, and eventually he become well-known and loved throughout Japan.

Yano’s art is simple. It makes me think this book might be aimed at a young audience. The art is serviceable. Half the time, the art is used to tell a story, the other half of the time it just illustrates the narration. It would have been a stronger book if there was less narration and more visual storytelling.

The great weakness of the book is the print quality. The pages look like they were done on a photocopy machine that was getting low on toner. There is very little true black. There are lots of photos incorporated into the story, and their details suffer from poor print quality. The Viz Signature line is at the same price point as this book and offers much higher quality. For $13, Viz gives you gorgeous, detailed art reproduction. You also get nice thick paper and French folds. I know that Japan & Stuff is a very small publisher, but they need to do more to make their books worth the price.

Overall, Yano’s biography did a good job of introducing me to Kenji Miyazawa and making me more interested in his writings. I now wish there was a good literary biography of Kenji Miyazawa in English I could use as follow-up reading, but unfortunately, there is not. I do hope Japan & Stuff Press improves their print quality with their next book.

There is a 41-page PDF sample of the book available at the publisher’s website.

Kenji Miyazawa in English

There is an excellent English-language website dedicated to Kenji Miyazawa. You can download five translated stories there. I’ve read a collection of Miyazawa’s short stories, translated by John Bester. I find his stories charming. They are a unique blend of surrealism, a love of natural detail, humor, and moral lesson. Western readers will find they take odd turns and have unexpected endings. What I read made me want more.

Currently, there is are two translations of Night of the Milky Way Railway available in English. The easiest to obtain is Stone Bridge Press’s book, Milky Way Railroad. The translation is done by Joseph Sigrist and D.M. Stroud. All the reviews for the book indicate that this is a simplified translation for children.

The best respected translation, by Sarah M. Strong, is called Night of the Milky Way Railway. This book has gorgeous illustrations, extensive translator notes, and even alternate scenes cut from the finished draft. Her book is published by M.E. Sharpe, a textbook publisher. Unfortunately, new or used, the book goes for $60+. (Your library might be an alternate source.)

The out-of-print anthology Masterworks of Kenji Miyazawa edited by Karen Colligan-Taylor, contains Strong’s translation without all the extras. The price point for this book is much lower, if you can find a used copy. Strong in the Rain is a selection of Miyazawa’s poems currently in print. There is also an illustrated children’s book of short stories, The Restaurant of Many Orders, currently in print. The illustrations are by Kunio Sato.

Justin Sevakis of Anime News Network has a great write-up of the animated movie, Night on the Galactic Railroad.

The introductory chapter I found very sympathetic. (You can read this chapter online at the Sigikki website.) A young man enters the store, not to look for a beloved story, but because he wants to sell his manga. He downplays his interest:

I wouldn’t call it a “collection.” I’m not an otaku or anything like that.
It’s just that all the manga I bought to read on my commute has piled up.
Manga take up so much space. It’s a real pain, you know? I mean, my apartment’s not that big… and they’re not the kind of thing you read more than once.

Kingyo Used Books Book 1
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As someone who spent time this weekend reshelving and reboxing all my manga series, I could definitely relate. Anyone who’s found their manga multiplying faster than they expected could, too. The visitor also thinks that he’s outgrown manga, that it’s something for kids, a misapprehension he’s quickly shown he’s wrong about. As he’s trying to pack his books, he finds that he keeps being sucked into re-reading the titles, another tendency we share. He ultimately finds that manga brings people together, instead of separating them, at his class reunion.

The second chapter explores the struggle of the artist. Misaki works hard to get her vision on canvas, while classmate Mudabi has effortless talent. He tries to share a beloved manga about an historic artist with her, but she resists, because she feels insignificant when confronted with how many manga there are, each made by someone else. Ultimately, her desire will carry her through, pushing her to work harder, while someone who can create without struggle will fall away, because they don’t care enough. It’s a reminder that lasting art is about dedication, not just genius.

Other chapters explain a bit more about the staff of the store, including the old-fashioned Billy Puck, boy detective inspired by a 1950s manga character. One story praises the escapism of humor, while another tackles the problem of making new friends as an adult. A housewife remembers her childhood crush on a shojo hero, and that love allows her to find someone to share her concerns. I was touched by the portrayal of how books teach us how to relate to others throughout our lives.

There’s even a whole chapter that talks about how neat Blueberry, Jean Giraud’s French historical cowboy series, is. Love of comics extends past national boundaries, and a well-drawn story can be understood even if you don’t speak the language. The last chapter is fascinating, exploring the business of arbitrage of used books. There are people who look for cheap deals, and they make money by reselling their finds to other used stores. This section explores how to balance one’s love and knowledge with business, set around an old, local manga lending library.

The art is clean, not excessively stylized, but with plenty of detail and a realistic look that carries visible emotion. The biggest problem with the series is that so many of the titles mentioned are unfamiliar to American readers. Most are culturally specific or beloved long-running manga, neither of which tend to be translated and make it over here. So we can share the characters’ love of their series only through similarities, not for the actual titles in most cases. Kingyo Used Books does have footnotes that give a brief description of what the titles were about, who they’re by, where they were published, and when. Plus, each chapter’s main focus manga gets a full page essay in the back explaining more about it.

This volume, like Finder: Talisman, is a gorgeous book about the magic of books. It’s a thought-provoking escape that refreshes the reader’s soul.

Oh, as to why people think the name is odd? “Kingyo” means “goldfish”, which explains the logo on the smocks. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Which is appropriate, since it’s not explicit at all — it’s a love story, with sex discussed instead of shown. More importantly, it’s about a guy coming to terms with his feelings instead of a story about how two guys get together. So many yaoi I’ve seen are about how one guy screws up his courage to reveal his feelings to the other, or more disturbingly, how one forces another into sex as a way to break through mental blocks and cultural restrictions. This one avoids that by opening after the revelation/confrontation.

Dining Bar Akira
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Akira is the chef and partner at a small restaurant. Torihara works there and has feelings for Akira. Instead of putting the focus on coming out, their story is more that of anyone who isn’t sure that their lover is the right choice for them. Anyone can relate to that. They like each other, unexpectedly, but how far do they want to go? Akira is as disturbed by Torihara’s relative youth as he is by his sex.

Although in one chapter, the characters do deal with what it means to be gay, through the feelings of the manager/old friend. I appreciated this inclusion. Relationships don’t exist in a vacuum, and they do affect one’s “family” of co-workers and good friends. I don’t always see that in these kinds of yaoi stories.

The art is also untypical. Instead of feminine pretty boys, the characters are a bit more rugged (which also captures their stress at working hard in a difficult job, running a cafe). At times, I found it difficult to tell them apart, until I remembered to look for Akira’s soul patch. The lettering is unfortunately soulless. The machine, not hand-lettered, type looks like a cheap paste-up job. But the characters’ expressions and movement, they way they slump after a hard day or difficult conversation, those are right on. So are the games people play, attempting to trick themselves, such as leaving something behind at the other’s apartment.

In her review (warning, some spoilers included), Michelle Smith points out that what makes this different is that the story is about men, not boys. There’s a preview available at the publisher’s website, where you can also buy a digital copy of the book. Also in this volume are two unrelated stories, “Foggy Scene” and “Riverside Moonlight”. These are the opposite of what I’ve been talking about above. FS is about a boy who likes his best friend “that way”, complicated by their new substitute teacher being his last pickup. It’s all leading up to the feared-yet-longed-for moment of revelation, which leaves us hanging, in a “Lady or the Tiger”-style situation. RM is just a few pages, about being attracted to those we wouldn’t expect to be.

Takashi’s grandmother used to bully the local forest spirits (yokai) and get them to write their names in her notebook, thus gaining control over them. Takashi has come to sympathize with the yokai and is returning their names. He is aided by Madara, a powerful spirit, who hopes Takashi’s goodwill will get him killed, so Madara can claim the Book of Names for himself.

Natsume’s Book of Friends Book 2
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Natsume’s Book of Friends is a quiet, character-driven manga. The emotional core of this series is Takashi’s coming of age. Takashi grew up being shuffled from relative to relative. He has finally been taken in by a couple who is committed to raising him. Now that he has a stable home life, he is beginning to take root and blossom as a person. He’s opening up to his schoolmates and making friends for the first time.

As Takashi becomes settled in his home life, he is also more open toward yokai. His kindness and sympathy toward them continues to grow. His own experiences of loneliness and being a social outcast have served to prepare him to minister to yokai. In a very real sense, he acts like a Buddhist priest for the spirits. Takashi is the only one willing to listen to their stories, to understand their pain and heartbreak, and to help them find wholeness. He is even beginning to gather a group of followers and assistants.

Natsume’s Book of Friends Book 3
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In these two volumes, Takashi finally encounters others with abilities similar to his own. However, they are all exorcists. They only see the yokai as something to destroy. Even those that have taken on familiar spirits see them as nothing but tools to use and use up. It’s ironic that Takashi finding a place in human society and among the yokai is alienating him from the people who share his abilities. He refuses to objectify the yokai and instead insist they be treated as people. The others simply find this idea too foreign to even comprehend.

Midorikawa’s art continues to be the perfect complement to her storytelling. The understated nature of the art serves the tender emotions of the stories well. Midorikawa is excellent in evoking mood, be it dark and creepy or sweet and loving. I’m happy this is a shojo series. The free-form page layouts convey this sense that Takashi is creating his own space in the world, and he doesn’t fit in any of the established molds.

These volumes have solidified my opinion that Natsume’s Book of Friends is the perfect follow-up to Mushishi. Both series tell gentle, episodic tales of the borderland between humans and other beings. Takashi isn’t as enigmatic as Ginko, but he is as unusual in his sympathy with non-humans. This is a great series for people looking for supernatural fiction that breaks away from the genre clichés. Natsume’s Book of Friends may be labeled shojo, but anyone can enjoy this series regardless of age or gender.

(The publisher provided review copies.)

In just a couple of seconds, all of Ganta Igarashi’s classmates are gruesomely murdered by a mysterious Red Man, who vanishes as quickly as he appeared. Ganta is convicted of the murders and given the death sentence, but his execution is suspended. Instead, he is sent to work at Deadman Wonderland, an amusement park staffed by death row inmates. Ganta learns that survival is the real game both in front of the crowds and behind the scenes in the penitentiary.

Deadman Wonderland Book 1
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Initially, Deadman Wonderland (DW) reminded me of Neon Genesis Evangelion (EVA). In his prison uniform, Ganta looks like Shinji Ikari in his pilot suit. Furthermore, Ganta starts out being pushed around and bullied by various people. He passively accepts it all while whining about his circumstances. Ganta then meets Shiro, a powerful girl of about the same age, who acts as a catalyst to get him to rethink his attitude.

Thankfully, DW breaks out of the EVA mold by the second chapter. Unlike Shinji, Ganta gets fed up with being everyone’s playtoy and stands up for himself. Shiro is also the exact opposite of Rei. Unlike Rei, Shiro is always in perfect health and has superhuman strength. She has a very positive personality in contrast to Rei’s dour persona. Shiro’s appearance in the manga always brightens the mood. She does come across as slightly unbalanced, as if she is always in a maniac phase. However, she has a serious side, too.

Ganta’s character development in this series is very odd. It’s not gradual but punctuated. He’s the wimpy guy until forced into a ‘fight or submit’ position, then he decides to stand up for himself. From that point forward, Ganta is a new man and takes charge of his situation, as much as he can. When Ganta encounters the Red Man again, he dedicates his life to making the Red Man pay for the murder of his classmates. Again, it’s an almost instantaneous decision that permanently changes Ganta’s personality. Since the focus of the series is really the plot, Ganta’s development will always be subservient to the needs of the storyline.

Deadman Wonderland Book 2
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Kataoka keeps the book moving at a quick pace. There is never much down time before Ganta is dealing with a new crisis. Also, Kataoka is very stingy with background information; we are only given a couple of small morsels at a time. This makes for a surprisingly engaging series. Readers are drawn in by either the action or by the newest revelation. DW fluctuates between action and intrigue adeptly. Kataoka knows how to balance these two aspects so you never get bored with either.

In general, Kondou’s art is well done. However, there are times when the figure drawing for Shiro seems off. For example, in volume 1, the top panel of page 66 shows Shiro doing a very acrobatic kick. Kondou has her torso twisted wrong. Shiro wears a skintight leotard, so there isn’t any room for error when drawing her; little mistakes are instantly noticeable. Otherwise, Kondou does a great job with the art. The action sequences are especially well laid out and very exciting.

Deadman Wonderland is an enjoyable read. It’s a well-written action series that blends in elements of science fiction and horror. It’s not a deep series, by any means, but you still must pay attention to what’s going on. The series will get your blood pumping and still engage your grey matter too. It’s the perfect complement to the summer action films.

(The publisher provided a review copy.)

Toriko Book 1
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At first, I was interested in checking out this title because of the food connection, but I quickly discovered that this story had nothing to do with actual consumption (unless you count the various poop jokes). The things to eat are trees that grow seafood or a dinosaur-sized alligator or bacon leaves or a crayfish cod (a fish with lobster-like claws) — things that don’t exist, in other words, but weird-sounding creations that either symbolize exotic tastes for pursuit or set up immensely dangerous things for Toriko to defeat. The gourmet aspect is simply the latest gimmick covering over a standard exaggerated adventure series for boys.

Toriko is hugely larger-than-life. He can create flame by snapping his fingers. He will face down anything, and often eat it raw, because he lives for adrenaline-spiking challenges. He guzzles three bottles of champagne at once to prepare for a new quest. His bare hands, formed into knife (flat) and fork (curved fingers) shapes, can cut through living flesh. Plus, (and this one I don’t get) he lives in an edible candy house.

There’s a ranking system, just so the fantasy beasties can constantly be labeled at higher numbers than the ones he fought in the previous chapter. The four-armed super-gorillas are particularly intimidating. I’m not sure how readable this will continue to be, since Toriko can beat anything, sometimes with barely-foreshadowed magic devices. To stay appealing, the creatures and items sought have to stay creative. So far, that’s not a problem; there’s clearly lots of imagination on the page.

The art is typical of this manga subgenre: lots of exaggeration, both in expression and the physical. Big shots set up outrageous settings. Lots of closeups show Toriko’s power, in his muscles or jaws. His anatomy varies as needed, with his head sometimes ridiculously small against bulbous arms, with muscles on top of muscles.

Quibbles: A bottle labeled 50% alcohol is described as 50 proof. Wrong, that would be 100 proof. More disturbingly, there are absolutely no women in the book. Unless the person eating noodles in one panel in the introductory sequence is female. She might be a long-haired guy, though. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Library Wars: Love & War Book 1
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Iku is in training to join the Library Forces. It’s kind of like the Book Lovers’ Army, with military ranks, procedure, and discipline. She’s doing well physically, but she struggles with the knowledge she needs to handle the full scope of her job. She’s got heart, though — and a touching backstory where she was inspired at a young age by a mistily remembered Forces member.

Her fellow soldiers include the girly Asako and their instructor Dojo, who is the early favorite to be the man who set her on this career path. The chapters are typical stories of learning to do one’s best, building teamwork, how to depend on others, how to do one’s job well and follow orders of legitimate authority… what sets them apart is the unique setting, one that made Iku’s struggles to be a good soldier entertaining to me.

She’s drawn cutely, but with an edge. It’s clear that Dojo likes her for her personality, which shows through in her movement. The action is clear and exciting, with settings ranging from library stacks to a wilderness training exercise. Iku doesn’t act much older than an overgrown schoolgirl, with concerns over what others think of her and learning to moderate her emotions and passion.

I’m eager to read more of Iku’s journey — I’m going to enjoy seeing her grow into her important role, defending the freedom to read. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Fairy Navigator Runa Book 1
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Runa is a clumsy orphan girl who loves everyone, regardless of how they treat her. Her childhood best friend, Sae, calls her names (because Sae’s more eager to grow up than Runa is, and Sae’s upset that Runa lets others take advantage of her), but Runa loves her anyway.

Runa has been told since she was little that she has a great secret power. Perhaps it’s related to the mysterious necklace left with her when she was abandoned? Of course it is. Two strangers show up, chasing the pendant, which leads to her finding out she’s really a fairy princess, the Legendary Child with the power to change the world. The two can turn into animals (both normal and super-cute versions) and also fight to protect Runa.

This is a very predictable girls’ fantasy, in which everyone is secretly magical and powerful. Plus, it reinforces morals of good feminine behavior: Kindness is the greatest strength. All you need is to keep loving those you care about. Good will win out. I don’t know why the book is rated for ages 13 and up, because I didn’t notice anything objectionable, and I would think its best audience would be younger, when these cliches aren’t quite so familiar.

I couldn’t find any information on the history of this series, which is a shame, because the author’s notes indicate that this was not the first version of the story. The artist says, for example, “There are quite a few parts to the comic that are different from the original.” Apparently, it’s based on a novel. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

To Terra… Book 3
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As this volume opens, Keith’s career has been advancing, with numerous promotions. He’s been working his way up the ladder in order to get answers to his questions about the true purpose of the Mu, obtained when he finally becomes important enough to confront the main computer. The sequence is both dramatically and visually impressive, with a combination of tech fetishism (the mechanical backgrounds) and psychedelic blurs symbolizing revelations.

Meanwhile, the Mu have taken the battle to the humans, surrounding their educational planet and threatening the children and beyond that, the methodology that raises them. The art of the spaceships arriving and the resulting battle is similarly exciting. I may have tired of waiting for Takemiya to get us to this conflict, but there are some beautiful images to make up for the delay.

That’s most of what I took from this book. Various showdowns with elements new to the reader left me cold, but the images were stunning. (Except for some of the costumes, which looked a lot to me like Legion of Super-Heroes outfits, bodysuit with white chestpiece and even a logo in some cases.) This was especially true of the ending.

Early in the book, an anti-computer thread begins, which I found late to the story. It should have been introduced earlier, although it ties in well with the validation of the “good old days”, “things were better then” nostalgia of the series. Once the controlling machine is destroyed, magically, things begin instantly improving.

Strangely, one of the tables has turned. Where previously the Mu seemed threatened and physically inferior to the humans, in danger of being wiped out when they directly confront each other, now, the humans are the ones in danger of being subsumed into Mu. It’s an odd reversal, one that I didn’t think had enough prior grounding in the story. While the Mu want to coexist, previously, the humans thought them to be freaks and didn’t like the idea; now, we’re told that the idea is impossible.

To follow up on one of my previous criticisms, I was happy to see another woman with a speaking role in this volume. The Mu have a hit squad, a group of young, tougher mutants that they send to do most of their dirty work. One of them, Artella, is female, although she also gets tagged with the plot role of questioning whether they’re doing the right thing because she hates the fighting.

I wish we’d learned more about Makka, a Mu collaborator working on the human side, and what drove him. I wish Tony had bothered to remember that Keith was responsible for his mother’s death when confronting him. Mostly, I wish this story had been set during World War II, because then we wouldn’t have had the supercomputers coming out of nowhere.

Saturn Apartments Book 1
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The society is heavily stratified, both physically (with levels of apartment buildings) and culturally, with plenty of class distinctions. Mitsu’s father was a window washer, and since he’s now presumed dead after a work accident, Mitsu has agreed to join his guild and work to pay his debts. Saturn Apartments explores the nature of grunt work in a future world, similar to Planetes. Most of the clients are rich people, the only ones that can afford to pay the fees to have clean windows and thus real sunlight. Mitsu and his colleagues live on the lower levels, dingy with artificial light.

The lovely thin-line art reminds me more of American independent graphic novels (perhaps with a bit of European influence as a wash) than traditional manga. Mitsu is drawn (as are many of the other characters) with an extremely round head and very small eyes (in contrast to the expected “manga has big eyes” criticism). It reminded me a bit of Charlie Brown, which also fits his personality. Mitsu looks cute and innocent, yet he’s dealing with a grim life. His eyes look lost in his face, just as he’s overwhelmed at times by circumstance.

As the first chapter demonstrates, the work is hard and dangerous. Crawling around the outside of the station in spacesuits on ropes is always a risk, and the winds make it more so. The scenery is a distraction, with no time to view Earth from a unique perspective.

Yet there are moments of extreme beauty. Even the overwhelming bunker-ness of the basement where Mitsu lives is lovingly delineated in detail. The jobs shed light on the interplay of society members as Mitsu looks in through their windows. The character portraits are similarly touching, as Mitsu learns about his mentor’s home life or a young couple’s decisions based on the class restrictions they face.

Mitsu’s coming to appreciate community. He’s determined to plug it through, alone if necessary, working hard to do the right thing. But there are other people looking out for them as well, and he’s learning to value those bonds. In a weird way, it reminded me of one of my favorite Batman stories, when the grim solo hero let go just enough to allow others to care for him. I was touched by Mitsu’s growing awareness of others, and by how each chapter worked as a story while still building a history for him.

Right now, you can read the book online at the SigIKKI.com site. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

**Warning, This Essay Contains Spoilers**

To Terra… invites comparison to a number of works. Takemiya’s description of how humans have depleted Earth’s resources, forcing most of the population to leave while clean-up crews try to fix the mess, will remind readers of the opening of Wall*E. There’s even a panel showing machines creating giant pillars of garbage. The way humans fear mutants (called Mu) and want to exterminate them echoes themes found in the X-Men comics and movies. Takemiya even speaks of mutants as a superior race of beings that will replace normal humans eventually. While I think these comparisons are helpful in exploring some of the themes inherent in Takemiya’s writing, they are only skimming the surface of a much more profound work.

To Terra… was serialized from 1977-1980. At that time, Japan had completed its shift to a manufacturing economy and was becoming a consumer culture, just like the US. Takemiya was writing in reaction to Japan’s industrialization. Unlike Hayao Miyazaki, Takemiya doesn’t postulate some idyllic past (such as in Princess Mononoke and My Neighbor Totoro) to critique the environmentally dangerous direction Japan is heading in. Instead, she looks forward and takes our consumer culture to its logical conclusion. While ecological concerns are part of To Terra…, Takemiya penetrates deeper to confront the foundational mindset behind industrialization.

Takemiya’s real concern is the same as the ancient Greek playwrights. She is writing to combat hubris, or extreme arrogance. It’s a belief there are no limits to one’s actions and a failure to recognize there are boundaries to life, which if violated will result in one’s destruction. In the old Greek tragedies, hubris was the downfall of the protagonist. The gods swiftly punished those that dared violated divine law or dared to imagine themselves as equal to the gods. Takemiya isn’t worried about divine law, but natural law. She is writing to warn us against the belief that we can become masters of nature and ourselves.

We see hubris in the way humanity has treated Terra. First, they consume all its resources without regard for the other life forms on the planet, not even showing regard for the life of Terra herself. Next, they scour the universe looking for more resources. In essence, they are depleting more planets to fuel their desires and in an attempt to correct the damage done to Earth. Here, the true failure of humanity is a failure to properly understand the nature of Terra.

Terra is not a machine, but a living organism. Earth isn’t a car that you swap out parts and make like new again. A planet’s ecosystem is like the human body, a complex network of interacting beings. When that network is corrupted, then you have to find ways of restoring both depleted resources and broken interconnectivity. You also have to let a living organism use its own system of healing. Like a wise doctor, you have to know when to quit tinkering, sit back, and let the patience’s immune system do its job. The humans in To Terra… never awaken to this insight about Earth.

The ultimate act of hubris is the enactment of the Superior Domination (SD) program. We are told it’s “a social order for the complete regulation of life.” Takemiya is engaging in a bit of sardonic wit with the program’s name, but we can’t appreciate the joke until we finish the series and understand her foundational message. Oscar Wilde certainly is having a good chuckle from the great beyond.

At its core, SD is an attempt to engineer human nature through genetic manipulation and social conditioning. What humans hope to achieve is a race of people who will live ecologically responsibly on Terra. Toward this goal, they have stopped natural procreation and a central computer (called Mother) now creates embryos from artificially created sperms and ovum. Mother then chooses the parents for the child. Children are taught to confide in Mother about all things and to obey all ‘she’ tells them to do. Humanity has surrendered all important decisions to this central computer.

Part of the SD program is the elimination of all Mu. The general population is taught to fear and hate them. Once a Mu is detected, they are either killed or captured and used for experimentation. Some Mu have escaped and formed an alternate society hidden underground on one of the space colonies. We discover that normal humans who have prolonged exposure to the Mu begin to develop psychic powers themselves. Furthermore, we learn in the third volume that humanity was increasingly becoming Mu before SD began. Politicians hoped to use genetic manipulation to eliminate Mus completely.

The Mu born under the SD program all have some physical weakness as an offset to their psychic abilities. Jomy, the Mu leader, decides that the Mu should procreate naturally. The first children under this new yet old-fashioned way are born on a planet apart from the central computer and a corrupted ecosystem. These children have both strong healthy bodies and full psychic abilities. In fact, they are born with almost unlimited psychic powers. The next wave of natural children is born on space ships and are Mus with healthy bodies but not the same psychic power. Takemiya is subtly showing how technology corrupts human evolution, and only when we return to our normative state of being in harmony with nature do we find our true potential realized.

In the third volume, when Jomy confronts the human leader, Keith Anyan, Jomy makes explicit Takemiya’s criticisms of a society ruled by computers. Technology and science can’t save them from the basic realities of the universe and human nature. When humans have divorced themselves so thoroughly from the natural order, they become impotent in body, mind, and spirit. They are doomed for extinction. Life can’t be neatly contained; evolution and the natural order will find a way to prevail against the best-laid plans of humans. Keith, seeing how the Mu have survived and prospered on their own apart from Mother, realizes the truth of Jomy’s words and shuts down all the computers to return humanity back to its proper path.

Takemiya isn’t anti-science. She is opposed to science with a mechanistic worldview. Further, she is opposed to the belief that as humans we have the ability to step outside of the natural world and control it. To Terra… is meant to show us what happens when we take that thinking to its logical end. Takemiya is reminding us that we are a part of the natural world just like any other animal. We can no more step outside nature than we can step outside our physical bodies. True science understands our place in the universe and sees the universe as a living organism. Instead of trying to control the natural world, we seek to partner with it and develop a way of living that is beneficial for all living things. We don’t place humanity or our needs above any other living being.

Takemiya is asking us to create a new model of science that thinks of the universe as another living being and makes decisions in the light of that understanding. Jewish theologian Martin Buber wrote a book called I and Thou advocating a similar line of thought. He desired that we treat all life with the same regard we would treat a loved one, to never think of anything as an ‘it’ but always as a ‘you’. If we did this with regard to the Earth, then we would never knowingly make decisions that would harm her, but always seek her wellbeing as well as our own in all we do.

A Review Response

But before I tackle that, I wanted to address some comments by Rob McMonigal from his review of the first book. He’s right about the world-building details sometimes overwhelming other aspects of the story, such as establishing the characters. Personally, I found it helpful — with such remove from the culture in time, I was glad elements of the story and setting were clearly stated, so I could be sure I was accurately comprehending the background and conflict.

He’s also right that not many people are likable, and we have very little sense of Jomy beyond his role as savior. That’s a good insight, that we don’t know much about how he feels, beyond a couple of scenery-chewing show-offy tantrums that don’t do much to endear him. He always feels to me like a self-indulgent kid, not the leader we’re supposed to believe he is. I saw him simply as Standard Young Manga Hero, so I didn’t expect much more, but someone with a less analytical bent will find less to hang onto. I went into this project as though it were a history lesson (homework assigned by my colleagues), so I didn’t expect to like the book the same way I do a modern read — and I don’t. But I do appreciate being reminded of the ideas that once fascinated society.

What Happens Here

To Terra… Book 2
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The Mu have set up on the planet Naska, and any official ships that get too close have their pilots mind-wiped. Keith, now a respected elite pilot, has been called in to investigate, while Mu leader Jomy is struggling to bring his people to Terra and reunite the two tribes. I’m suddenly thinking a lot about Moses.

That’s not the only connection — the Mu have lost sight of their mission and are willing to settle for temporary comfort. Physis becomes a kind of narrator, telling everyone what Jomy thinks and what he needs. I found it a bit boring, ready for something concrete to happen, action instead of introspection, since it’s predictable that there will be a more significant final confrontation. He’s really more of a symbol than a realized character. Even when he goes against the Elders’ wishes, he’s just thinking hard to make something happen.

Keith’s storyline, on the other hand, provides plenty of action, with spy missions, attempted assassinations, and class warfare, all taking place on spaceplanes and planetary outposts. It’s a shame that Takemiya has set up the Mu as being physically weak (to balance their mental powers), because it makes for unbalanced storytelling. (That may be why she begins introducing new characters without those weaknesses later on.) Thankfully, we get a showdown about a third of the way through the book, and after that it picks up, with a kidnapping, attempted murder, an escape, a kid in danger, hostages, missile attacks, space rescues, and finally, preparation for war. This section also results in my nomination for best line reminding us how old this book is: “The monster… the coward! Using a woman as a shield!”

The art remains dense, requiring the reader to pay close attention, due to its unfamiliarity of style. I think Takemiya is attempting more ambitious staging at this point, but there are sometimes pages where I could read the panels in almost any order and get almost as much out of it. For instance, on an early example, I don’t know if it was because I found it pretentious, with statements like, “He’s full of inexplicable sadness,” or because I already knew through the art the message I needed to take away from the page. There isn’t a panel flow so much as a montage of related images.

Signs of the 70s

Of greater prominence in this volume is the importance of natural childbirth. The Mu have become experimenting this way, allowing a few couples to have children, although they’re still raised in groups away from their parents. As Jomy tells Keith,

We’re not going back to the dark old ways. We plan to procreate this way… the natural way!

I suspect someone today might quibble over just which was the “dark old way”, but this attitude fits in with the rise of Lamaze classes. Personally, I think how the child is raised — with parents or in more impersonal groups — is just as important. Keith has a different argument: “It’s inefficient.” In other words, they won’t be able to reproduce fast enough to keep their numbers up.

Also here, the struggle between Mu and Terrans has become framed in the language of civil rights. Jomy tells Keith,

“We don’t wish to fight Terra. We just want our existence and basic rights to be recognized. … If our existence bothers you, just leave us alone!”

Later, other Mu ask, “What did we ever do to them? Our only crime was to be born. We’re all equal!” The question is raised of who is superior — Jomy and his people have mental powers, but Keith, a synthetic human, lacks the “dangerous impurities” other people have. In a way, To Terra… is like reading the X-Men and sympathizing with the normal folks, because those characters (in this case, Keith, although he’s not all that normal) are the most vibrant and attractive. By the end of this book, the Mu have embraced their renegade status, with a new, more destructive goal, but it takes a long while to get there.

Still to Come

Stay tuned for my thoughts on the third book. Also, Ed will be contributing an essay on the themes of the series to the site. By the way, my thanks to my local library, who had all three volumes available. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to participate in this fun event.

Twin Spica Book 1
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Twin Spica, which originally began serialization in 2001, is the story of Asumi, a plucky young girl who wants to make it into space school so she can become an astronaut. She’s got an uphill climb ahead of her — no money, her tiny size, and her lack of family support. Her mother’s dead and her father, a former flight engineer, has issues we only learn about later. Both she and Japan are working to overcome tragedy. Japan’s first native spaceship crashed (in 2010, ironically, although the events of this book are 14 years past that) in a populated area, killing many civilians.

Asumi’s round head, cute demeanor, and expressive body language make her look younger than the 14 years old she’s supposed to be. She’s accompanied by an imaginary friend, Mr. Lion, who resembles an amusement park escapee in an animal mascot costume, which doesn’t help. Her struggle to follow her dreams in the face of obstacles is a common, uplifting manga story, but I still found the undertones of history overcome by hope and hard work an enjoyable read. The art has a slightly European air to it, by my eyes, a little bit of Tintin-like clear lines mixed into the traditional manga look, especially when it comes to her father.

Where American stories about astronauts emphasize their risk-taking, especially when it comes to their lives, this one tells us that “the most important qualities an astronaut needs are perseverance and a cooperative personality.” That’s very manga and very Japanese in priority. It’s not wrong — being cooped up together in a small space does require cooperation — but it puts a new light on why Asumi is well-suited for her goal.

The two backup stories included, “2015: Fireworks” and “Asumi” were published first, and they shed significant light on revelations only briefly mentioned in the main story. The first has a 5-year-old Asumi meeting Mr. Lion while the second shows how she dealt with her mother’s death. (These stories are a bit more mystical than the main sequence.) Both focus on the aftereffects of the spaceship crash, not her life choices moving on. Overall, this book reminds me that there is hope for the future and exploration, even if it comes at great cost and much hard work. I like Asumi, and I want to watch her succeed.

There are 16 volumes, lengthy but appropriate for such a detailed series. The title comes from a binary star in the constellation of Virgo (is the Virgin a reference to our young heroine setting out into the world?), as memorably explained by Mr. Lion to a younger Asumi on a starry night. If you’d like to read more manga about young female astronauts, try The Voices of a Distant Star, if you can find a copy — it’s unfortunately out of print.

MMF Notes

In comparison to To Terra…, this story is much more focused on the individual than the society. The world is one we easily recognize, no different from ours except in the more open possibility of space travel, but still within a government organization that seems familiar. Although Asumi is reminded of the importance of teamwork during her exam exercises, it’s clear that it’s her journey, and only her skills and faith in herself will see her through.

Also, the events here are much more realistic. There are no mind powers or supercomputers with human personalities. Mr. Lion, the oddest element, is easily explainable as an imaginative figment, or her talking to herself, or even an artistic device. We aren’t supposed to believe he really exists, and he only appears when she’s alone with herself. It’s no different, to my mind, from someone being inspired by Superman or Robin Hood to achieve great things.

While To Terra… looks backwards — everyone wants to return to their home planet because of history — Twin Spica looks forward, towards exploring the stars. I enjoyed it much more, because it felt more as though I was reading it for enjoyment, to share Asumi’s struggles and find out what happened next in her life, instead of for homework, because I should be familiar with an important older work.