by Ed Sizemore

Looking back over 2011, there were some great manga published. In particular, three significant books were translated into English: Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths, Tank Tankuro, and Wandering Son. Only Tank Tankuro by Gajo Sakamoto didn’t make my top ten list. It’s an important children’s manga from pre-World War II. However, it doesn’t age very well. Sakamoto’s unquestioning patriotism and use of stereotypes makes it hard to enjoy.

Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths

There were two Tezuka manga published this year, and I desperately wanted to include them in my top ten. However, honesty forbids me. Book of Human Insects is well-written, but I still struggle with a Tezuka story where the villain or villainess wins in the end. Princess Knight is a fun book, but it’s also deeply flawed in its storytelling.

Here are my top ten favorite manga for 2011.

1. Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths by Shigeru Mizuki. Finally, we get a manga by Mizuki in English. A powerful, semi-autobiographic tale of the hardships faced by Japanese troops during World War II, this book is also a needed reminder that not everyone wearing a Japanese uniform supported the Imperial regime. I hope this does well enough to spark interest in his other works, especially GeGeGe no Kitaro.

2. Wandering Son by Shimura Takako. Words fail me when trying to describe the beauty and artistry of this manga. The genius of this series is that Takako doesn’t focus on how ‘strange and unusual’ transgender people are, but rather how ordinary. I want to say this should be required reading for junior high students as a way to help promote understanding. However, I don’t really know if that approach works.

3. A Bride’s Story by Kaoru Mori. My review of the first volume focused too much on my own hang-ups instead of the breathtaking art, wonderful storytelling, and meticulous research. My eyes almost die from ecstasy with each new volume.

4. A Zoo in Winter by Jiro Taniguichi. I feel like Taniguichi is writing his stories for me. His sense of nostalgia, history, and character are almost identical to my own. I immediately identify with his lead characters and sympathize with what they’re going through. Maybe it’s a middle-aged man thing.

A Zoo in Winter

5. Stargazing Dog by Takashi Murakami. Everybody and their brother has praised this book and rightly so. It’s as moving as everyone says. It’s a sad story, so best to save it for when you’re ready for a good cry.

6. 7 Billion Needles by Nobuaki Tadano. This series seems to have been overlooked by most people. It deserves a much wider audience. It’s a solid sci-fi story that gets better with each volume and has a terrific ending.

7. 20th Century Boys Volumes 13-18 by Naoki Urasawa. This series has been an amazing roller coaster ride. I’m impressed that Urasawa is able to maintain real suspense over so many volumes. I can’t wait to see how it all wraps up.

8. Twin Spica Volumes 5-10 by Kou Yaginuma. Another great sci-fi series by Vertical that is getting criminally neglected. This is more of a soft sci-fi, where the focus is on the characters and their development over technology and world-building. A very moving story with lead characters you’re constantly rooting for.

9. Yotsuba Volume 10 by Kiyohiko Azuma. This series is pure joy. Yotsuba is the cure for any bad mood. Unfortunately, we have caught up with the Japanese releases, so that means only one or two volumes a year. Azuma needs to write faster.

10. Chi’s Sweet Home Volumes 5-7 by Kanata Konami. Look, it’s a cat manga, so it’s already 90% there for me. It’s well-written and adorable, so I’m totally sold. This is another manga where we’ve caught up to the Japanese release and will have long waits between volumes.

20th Century Boys Book 18

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.)

I wasn’t able to do a weekly post either of the last two weeks, and there won’t be one this week, either. I’m not sure it’ll be missed, given the lack of comment on my last one, but there have been a number of great reads out the last two weeks that I wanted to be sure you knew about. Short and sweet, since the changing comic world means more ways and timetables on which to get books:

* Amelia Rules! The Meaning of Life… and Other Stuff (Atheneum Books for Young Readers, $10.99) is a strong contender for my best-of-year list.

* Volume 3 is the latest Archie Archives (Dark Horse, $49.99) to arrive.

* The last Bloom County collection comes out with Volume 5 (IDW Publishing, $39.99), although Outland will follow.

* Bubbles and Gondola (NBM, $16.99) gave me a unique perspective on being an artist and loneliness.

* You don’t need me to tell you how good Kate Beaton’s Hark A Vagrant (Drawn and Quarterly, $19.95) is, since so many others have already done so.

* The latest Modern Masters volume covers Frazer Irving (TwoMorrows Publishing, $15.95).

* Of the two My Boyfriend Is a Monster books (Lerner Publishing Group, $9.95) out this week, I liked My Boyfriend Bites much more than Under His Spell.

* Pope Hats #2 (AdHouse Books, $6.95) — Don’t worry if you haven’t seen the first one, you can still appreciate Ethan Rilly’s amazing cartooning in this one.

* Stargazing Dog (NBM, $11.99) is heartbreaking, as are most good dog stories.

* The Strange Talent of Luther Strode #1 (Image Comics, $2.99) was MUCH too raw and violent for squeamish little me, but it’s very well-done. The concept — kid who loves superhero comics really gets powers — is common, but the execution here is exceptional.

* Mike Dawson’s Troop 142 (Secret Acres, $20) is a realistic portrait of a week of Boy Scout camp, with all the horrible things teenage males do to each other. Great cartooning, too, especially with the distinct characters.

* Two Generals, one of my Best of 2010, is now out in paperback (Emblem Editions, $19.99).

* It was a pleasure to see raw autobiographical cartooning from the female perspective, as seen in Jennifer Hayden’s Underwire (Top Shelf Productions, $9.95).

* Kevin Keller’s story continues in Veronica #209 (Archie Comics, $2.99), which has a variant cover choice.

* Viz Media has three great manga: Cross Game Volume 5 ($14.99), Naoki Urasawa’s 20th Century Boys Volume 17 ($12.99), and my favorite, Bakuman Volume 7 ($9.99).

Here are my thoughts on the latest volumes of a bunch of favorite Viz Manga titles.

Bakuman Book 7

Bakuman Book 7

story by Tsugumi Ohba, art by Takeshi Obata, $9.99, out now

This series demonstrates the virtue of sticking with a story that shows promise, since it’s gone from an intriguing premise with some serious problems to one of my most-anticipated manga reads. It’s just so involving, with its struggling protagonists and their goal of becoming successful manga-ka.

Of course, purporting to show the behind-the-scenes of making manga is catnip to manga readers. Many comic readers have dreamed of making their own, and this allows them to live that life vicariously. It’s impressive that it’s so dramatic and emotion-packed, but when you think about these kids, putting out serialized chapters and graphic novels while still in high school, that’s a setup fraught with possibility. Heck, one of them has already risked his life to make their business successful, even though the sacrifice doesn’t turn out as they expected.

The guys are struggling to find a new manga concept that will be successful while clashing with a sometimes-oblivious new editor more concerned about his future with the company than what’s best for them. They’re no longer convinced that he knows what they need or is skilled as an editor, so they challenge him while seeking their own path. At the same time, they’re working to get into college, so they can then coast for a few more years while making comics.

I’m impressed by how dense this feels because of all the text. I’m more story-driven than art-driven in my reading, so I enjoy how much conversation goes on, between the characters debating their choices and laying out rules for making manga. Don’t get me wrong, the visuals are extremely impressive in how exciting they make everyday life. The artist is even paid a compliment early on when the creators are talking about how “the best manga artist is one who can draw ordinary everyday life in an interesting way.”

I also adore the goofy Eiji Nizuma, the young competitor who’s already hit his success. He’s asked to judge a manga contest by the editors, and his exaggerated focus on exactly what he likes is great. There’s a lot of discussion about gag manga, what they need, and how a kid audience reacts to them, which gave me plenty of background on a genre I previously wasn’t all that familiar with.

Cross Game Book 5

Cross Game Book 5

by Mitsuru Adachi, $14.99, out October 11

Speaking of shonen manga favorites, here’s the latest issue of this sports competition story. This double-length volume (printed as books 10 and 11 in Japan) shows Ko and his team in a regional tournament.

I’m very impressed by the artwork — the closeups on player’s expressions, the skewed panels during key action sequences, the isolated elements of an action from player to stance to ball to swing to result — but I admit, having read the previous volume over the summer, I didn’t recall details on who any of the players were. I recommend reading the series in large chunks to keep the drama high and the cast straight.

This is a book for those willing to wallow in the details of the game — sometimes, I’d rather just know who wins and then get back to the character development. That’s why Viz double-sizes these books, I think. Here, the entire first half of the book is all one game. If released at traditional size, it’d take much too long for the American patience to move events along. But as it is, the second half provides the characterization I was looking for, as the cast deals with the playoff’s outcome.

There are some new developments as well. A noodle shop is moving in, and the daughter resembles what Wakaba would have looked like if she’d lived to that age. (Subtle comment on the expectations of appearance for girls of a certain age, or just a storytelling shortcut?) When the summer festival takes place (which coincides with the anniversary of Wakaba’s passing), the new girl’s looks cause quite the reaction among her neighbors.

This event demonstrates one of Adachi’s best tactics. He doesn’t have the characters tell the reader what they’re thinking; instead, he juxtaposes panels in such a way that it’s clear to us what’s going on. We’re smarter than they are, which gives us an investment in seeing them realize what we already understand. (Although at times, I do wish that everyone wasn’t quite so clueless about Ko and Aoba ending up together, since it can feel like it’s being dragged out just to fill out the series.)

My favorite sequence is a wordless two-pager where the pet cat, chasing a fly, bounces around the house. It’s funny but also meaningful in its symbolism. Plus, the cat is adorable.

The Story of Saiunkoku Book 5

The Story of Saiunkoku Book 5

art by Kairi Yura, story by Sai Yukino, $9.99, out November 1

Switching gears, if I’m to wallow in character detail, I’d much rather do so in this historical shojo. For some reason, I can keep the various pretty boys here separate much more easily than I can the baseball teammates, probably because the guys here don’t all dress alike.

The normally sturdy Shurei has caught a cold, and everyone’s falling over themselves to help her recover. That means plenty of men assembled to help look for a missing child, conveniently, while the Emperor pines over the sleeping, ailing Shurei.

She’s got to get better so she can take the Imperial Civil Exam. A lot is riding on her — beyond her life-long dreams of becoming a civil servant, she’s also the first woman to be allowed to take the exam, and her performance has the potential to change expectations for her entire society. Of course, she’s more fixated on others than herself, so it isn’t a surprise when she takes a boy, come to the city to take the exam, under her wing. The boy, however, has his own surprises, including a kind of multiple personality.

The story can be jumpy and often we’re told more than we’re shown, but I enjoy the wackiness of everything moving so quickly. Somehow, this book includes gangsters, a spoiled rich kid with a crush on Shurei, and the city’s most well-known courtesan, all who come together in a bizarre mob-style showdown. (And several of whom have known Shurei for years, although we’ve never heard of them before.) This book does change genres quickly. Much like the weather in certain areas, if you don’t like a chapter, just wait a bit, and you’ll have something different soon. I do think I’m ready for her to get back with the Emperor soon, though, because I love their fumbling romance, as we’re reminded in the side story included in this volume.

Kingyo Used Books Book 4

Kingyo Used Books Book 4

by Seimu Yoshizaki, $12.99, out October 18

Stepping into the pages of this manga bookstore and meeting several of their varied customers is always relaxing. It’s nice to spend time, even if fictional, with those who share my interests in manga, even if they’re reading books I’ve never heard of before.

My favorite is the first chapter, about a tutor trying to help his student, a boy who claims he doesn’t like manga because he hasn’t yet found the right one for him. Really, he’s putting on an attitude of being uncaring because his ability to make his own choices hasn’t been respected. I wish this story had gone on longer, because I felt like there were connections still to be made. I also wanted to know more about the speech one of the booksellers makes, about the virtues of horror manga, since I don’t care for that genre myself. I got just a glimpse of what its appeal could be, but there seemed more to be said.

Yoshizaki sketches her characters economically, but with enough hints that you can understand the personalities and what they’re looking for quickly. Sometimes the manga is almost incidental, as mention of a title shared between two old men remembering their protestor days in the 60s, or sometimes it’s essential, as with the story of a guy with a crush on a girl who loves manga. Their shared enjoyment of Ranma ½ is adorable, especially when he geeks out and buys the whole series.

The followup chapter explores another area of fandom, as a stereotypical geek sounds off at the handsome men at the bookstore. He needs his hobby to give him purpose, and having them “invade” when they already have so much else going for them makes him jealous. He shows up again later as an amateur investigator, helping a kid stop an arsonist attacking used book stores. That was a fun story, and it reminded me of one of the things I like about Yoshizaki’s art — how well she draws people discovering a moment of happiness or peacefulness. In this case, it’s both, as a stressed kid enjoys a manga (by Moto Hagio) that relaxes him enough that he drifts off into a nap.

I was astounded to be reminded of the age of manga in the last chapter. I think of it as dating back to the 80s, when it first came to the U.S., or to the 60s, when thinking about some of Vertical’s Tezuka reprints, but one story here involves manga first released in the 20s and 30s, which makes it older than superhero comics. (I know, I should know that, but it didn’t really sink home until now.) The message of that story, about how manga can follow and support people throughout their lives, is something we only dream of for American comics. We’re closer, but there’s still a way to go.

20th Century Boys Book 17

20th Century Boys Book 17

by Naoki Urasawa, $12.99, out October 11

I’m finding this series really frustrating lately, as I want to know more about what happens next, and Urasawa is instead giving us flashbacks. Except they’re too skilled to be called that, really, as he draws portraits of life under plague. Families are split apart by death and villainy while survivors suffer in concentration camps. Urasawa is clearly building an epic, and there are still plenty of volumes to go, but I miss the core cast and I’m ready for the last big showdown.

Here, we get some new kid characters — a brother and sister made aware that Kanna’s resistance group has a spy in their midst — and the question of whether the resistance should call off their action or force ahead even if the overlords know their plans.

Also frustrating is the way that the cliffhanger from Book 15 is still the cliffhanger for this book, in a new form. If Urasawa’s work weren’t so darn well-drawn, I’d suggest that two volumes is an excruciating amount of time to make readers wait to find out what happened, but at least there are plenty of really pretty drawings of really ugly things — murders, sewers — to watch while we wait.

By focusing on the end, I’m probably approaching this in a way that’s completely wrong, culturally. I can’t even imagine what this would be like reading serialized.

(The publisher provided most of the above as review copies.)

Since today’s the day the latest volume of Naoki Urasawa’s 20th Century Boys mega-series comes out, I thought it might also be a good time to share with you this amazing piece of merchandise related to the series.

Michael Crawford’s Captain Toy site has a comprehensive writeup by Jeff Parker (probably not the comic writer) of this limited-edition release of a figure of the Friend. The Hong Kong company Hot Toys put out a number of exclusive figures to celebrate their 10th anniversary, and this was one of them. Parker’s piece is super-detailed, and I found it very interesting, especially since he wasn’t previously familiar with the manga, and I’m not very familiar with toy collecting. He’s also got a bunch of good pictures. There’s one of the accessories after the cut, but it contains a spoiler if you’re not caught up on the manga series. Read the rest of this entry »

Looking back at when I’ve managed to do this supposedly-weekly post, I’ve noticed that it’s mostly the last week of a month that I find things to talk about. A quick moment’s thought revealed why: many smaller publishers, whose work I’m more interested in, work to get their books out then so they’re still in the promised month of release. Anyway, I figure it’s better to talk about quality than ramble just to be timely.

Knights of the Lunch Table:
The Battling Bands

It’s the last week of the DCU we knew (hey, that rhymes), so lots of miniseries and series wrapping up, including the end of Flashpoint. I don’t think that’s going to be looked back on fondly as the introduction to a new beginning to the company, but more to the point, it wasn’t a very good read, either, just lots of violence for its own sake. I won’t miss many of the DC ongoings, which makes me part of the problem the “it’s NOT a reboot!” is aiming to solve. I will take a moment to point and laugh that the company is finally putting out the Green Lantern Movie Prequel Sinestro, months after the movie crashed and burned.

So what do I recommend buying this week? If you like superheroes and want something much more inspirational, try The Power Within (Northwest Press, $4.99). Ed suggests Knights of the Lunch Table: The Battling Bands (Graphix, $10.99). He’s right, it’s entertaining for a boys’ comic, more so if you like tracing Arthurian influences or wondering if the old singer named Davy is an homage to the Monkees. (That’s not to be confused with Knights of the Dinner Table, in its third decade with issue #177 out this week and the 33rd collected edition. That’s some longevity to admire, there.)

For manga, there’s only Naoki Urasawa’s 20th Century Boys Volume 16 (Viz, $12.99), but it’s not the best starting point if you aren’t already reading the twisty time-travel tale. So it seems to be something of a light week, but that’s ok, because I still have Baltimore purchases to enjoy. Being a comic fan doesn’t have to revolve around the weekly Wednesday.

The last few pages of Book 15 caused quite the discussion amongst 20th Century Boys fans of my acquaintance, as it showed the return of a character whose unseen presence lay under the entire middle section of the series so far.

20th Century Boys Book 16

Book 16 thus feels like a tease, since it doesn’t follow up on that brief appearance. There’s also more playfulness in its structure, incorporating the reader in its games. The cover approach, in which the kids seem to be talking directly to the viewer, continues on through most of the first chapter, which puts the reader in the story, taking a significant character’s point of view.

That character is the Friend as a child, finally showing us how he felt about always being on the outside of Kenji’s gang of friends. His wounded viewpoint consists of feeling smarter than the others but also keenly aware of how he’s left out of their plots. He may find what they do silly (or he may just be telling himself that to soothe the wound), but he still wants to be part of it, to belong. As kids, they’re selfish and thoughtless, unaware of how mean they’re being. It’s all complicated by his self-centered assumptions and willingness to be offended.

This chapter, even without remembering all the details of the bigger plot, is a wonderfully painful character study of being the outsider. I hadn’t thought of how the Friend came to be who he was from this internal focus previously. In many ways, he’s too much a cartoon super-villain for that, but Naoki Urasawa drags us inside his head, showing how the smallest action as a kid can have long-standing, unexpected influence later in life. After all, that’s the theme of the book, so it makes sense that that principle applies to all the characters, not just the “good” ones.

Still, even early on, this kid is manipulative and annoying. He’s focused only on what he wants and how others think of him, learning the power of information dropped in the right ear and the effect of playing on others’ beliefs. The previous scenes in the “haunted” house are revisited and elaborated upon to show more of his motivation, especially revealing how what matters to him is of no importance to anyone else. He seems to easily become obsessed, even to the point of it being considered mental illness. That may have been something the reader could figure out from previous events, but here, it’s both spookier and sadder, seen in a child who’s so mixed up about what should be important.

Urasawa’s staging is, as always, masterful, but it’s the characters’ expressions that really draw in the reader. I was marveling at how well he retells a classic story of a lonely child outsider, layered with creepy reminders of pieces of the tale we already know (including scenes of how the Friend’s coterie of assistants came together) … and just when it was getting really powerful, there’s a cliffhanger, and Urasawa flips us back to the future from the half-book flashback. Darn him!

Now, we’re in the post-plague world, where places have been quarantined and the near-superhuman Otcho is the only character we know. There’s yet more foreboding of doom, and perhaps one more chance to defeat the Friend and the world he’s built. It’s at these times, where the story leaps ahead once again, that my intellect thinks, “That’s a cheap trick to build suspense, cutting away and leaving yourself a gap where you can say anything happened.” Yet I’m still reading it, and I still want to see good win out in the end. Plus, Urasawa’s gorgeous scenes of rubble-filled village streets are cinematic in their appeal and detail.

20th Century Boys reminds me, in a way, of the Indiana Jones movies. They’re both a creator’s homage to the pulp entertainment they loved, and they’re both most enjoyable if you experience more than think about them. Because, in this case, the brain is going to point out just how much of a tease it all is, while the heart is hoping for Kenji to return once again, or for at least his spirit to live on.

(The publisher provided a review copy.)

It stunned me to see that Naoki Urasawa, in volume 15 of his long-running series, was still introducing new characters, but it was so skillfully done, and the new cast member has such potential, that I was intrigued.

20th Century Boys Book 15

Since the conflict this time revolves around the Pope’s upcoming visit to Japan for the Friend’s funeral, it’s natural that the new character is a priest, Brother Luciano. He’s come to the home of his deceased mentor to carry on his work investigating an odd Book of Prophecy. The mentor previously rescued him from life as a gangster and a drunk, creating deep bonds that provide clues as to what actually happened to the older priest. The story of redemption would, in other hands, be trite, but here, it’s told efficiently, with just the right particular images to illustrate Luciano’s past and possible future. He serves as an object lesson that a little knowledge quickly becomes dangerous for the bearer in these circumstances.

I’m of the right generation that a plot to kill a Pope invariably reminds me of Foul Play, but it’s refreshing to see established religion finally make an appearance in 20th Century Boys. The cult that the Friend has formed would normally come in conflict with an established Church, but here Urasawa shows us how the Friends have superseded conventional religion to become a world-wide super-organization. This alternate take on the looming threat serves as a refreshing break from the heavy main plotline while serving as a reminder and introduction to new ramifications of the overall situation. Plus, Urasawa turns the event in an unexpected direction that’s even more surprising than anything the reader could suspect.

We get to see the young detective Chocho again, a favorite character, as Luciano winds up in police custody in Japan. The threads of similarity between him and a previously seen supporting character reveal themselves in surprising ways. In between, there’s an exciting flashback sequence in which a priest tries to get medicine to a remote Chinese village during a rainstorm during the first plague. Urasawa is sure to keep the visuals involving, even while filling in background and reminding us that even the Pope has his own past.

In each recent volume of 20th Century Boys, Urasawa has been surprising me with the direction he takes the ever-growing story. The overreaching structure isn’t forgotten, but by diving into individual stories and the changing facets of how this world affects individual inhabitants, Urasawa justifies his length and structure. Plus, it lets him draw plenty of dramatic reactions and cinematic sequences of suspense that are a pleasure to read and look at multiple times. (The publisher provided a review copy.)