“Card Captor Sakura Omnibus Volume 3″ is almost exactly where I stopped reading the TokyoPop editions of “Card Captor Sakura.” Although I loved the first volumes, I thought the series was losing some of its magic as the storyline went along. There were too many characters, and some of the elements I didn’t enjoy–like Yukito’s revelation of his true form as Yue the Judge. I liked Yukito better as just Yukito. Budgets were tight. Decisions had to be made. I had read the series up until Sakura completed her task of capturing all the Clow Cards, and I didn’t see much point in continuing. What is a Card Captor with no cards to capture? And so I stopped picking up the Tokyopop collections.
But I always wondered how the series ended. And I figured I would get around to reading it someday.
Enter the extremely cool Dark Horse Omnibus series. Along with a larger format, nicer paper, a new and improved translation, and full-color pages, I could get the entire Cardcaptor Sakura series in four affordable volumes. The Omnibus volumes were too good to pass up, and I could finally read the end of series.
“Omnibus Volume 3″ starts off with Sakura Kinamoto as a 5th grade elementary school and Master of the Clow Cards of the magician Clow Reed. She has finally captured the last of the errant cards, and assumed her destined role. However, capturing the last of the cards has left here without a purpose. A magical warrior with no one to battle isn’t of much use. Fortunately, some danger and intrigue arrives at Sakura’s school with a new exchange student arrives from England, Eriol Hiiragizawa. Sakura and the Clow Cards are called upon once again, but Sakura quickly finds herself outmatched. It is not enough to be Master of the Clow Cards. Sakura must transform the cards, making her own magic instead of just borrowing someone else’s.
And of course, much of the fun of “Cardcaptor Sakura” has nothing to do with battle. I have loved reading all of the bizarre–yet perfectly sweet and innocent–little love stories intertwined in the series. In one story, the gang learns of a superstition involving handing out hand-made teddy bears to the one you love, so soon teddies bears are getting made and exchanged everywhere. Sakura’s classmate Rika gives one to their teacher. Li Syaoran makes one but can’t decide if he wants to give it to the girl Sakura or the boy Yukito, both of whom make him swoon. And then Valentine’s Day comes around, and it is the same problem all over again. Good times.
Getting back into “Cardcaptor Sakura” after more than a decade was easy. The ladies at CLAMP seemed to have assumed that there would be new or returning readers, and recaped the story and re-introduced the characters in the first few pages. After everyone is comfortable in their settings, they then drop the gang into new adventures against new opponents and get the ball rolling for the second half of Sakura’s series.
While I am enjoying the series, I personally don’t think that Volume Three is as good as volumes one and two. Some of the new characters seem a bit forced. They have gone the “dark mirror” route making sure that everyone in Sakura’s battle group has an opposite to fight. If Sakura has a cute little winged lion that turns into a fierce guardian, then they will have a cute little black kitty that turns into a massive winged black panther. And so on. Once the reveal is made of the identity of Sakura’s new opponent, the story makes a little more sense, but there is less immediacy to the storyline. She isn’t a girl on a mission anymore, and is being battered around by mystic forces.
Even so, I will definitely be getting the final Volume 4 to see how it all plays out. And since Dark Horse has put out these excellent Omnibus versions, I am glad I waited.

More Japanese Weird Tales

After enjoying the first volume in this series, Tales of Old Edo – Kaiki: Uncanny Tales from Japan, Vol. 1, I was eager to read volume two. While I was quite familiar with many of the tales of old Edo, I didn’t know what to expect from “Country Delights.” There are a few famous names here, and some stories I know, but most of the book was new territory. And, as promised by the title, delightful.

As with “Tales of Old Edo,” Kurodahan Press assembled a collection of classics and modern authors, of the ultra-famous and the not-so-much. Some of the authors will be familiar to anyone with even the most casual acquaintance with Japanese literature—like Natsume Soseki (Botchan), also also known as “that guy on the old 1,000 yen bill,” Izumi Kyoka (Japanese Gothic Tales), and Yanagita Kunio (The Legends of Tono) who almost single-handedly created Japanese folklore studies. Many of the authors I had never heard of, but that didn’t mean their stories were any less fascinating. In fact, in the later stories it was interesting to watch the waning influence of Edo-period storytelling and seeing obvious Lovecraft-influences slowly creep in.

There are nine stories in total in “Country Delights,” and one short comic. In his introduction, Robert Weinberg suggests that you read all of the stories before reading Higashi Masao’s introduction, which I heartily agree with. There are lots of surprises here that you don’t want spoiled. Most of the stories are fairly short, and the longest, “Midnight Encounters, (1960)” runs ninety-four pages. The oldest story is Izumi Kyoka’s “Sea Daemons (1906)” and the most recent is “Reunion (1993)” by Takahashi Katsuhiko.

As with “Tales of Old Edo,” none of the stories in here could be classified as “horror.” These are weird fiction, more unsettling that shocking. Most make use of traditional settings and Japanese ghosts and monsters, but some favor exotic locales.

My favorite story in “Country Delights” was “Sea Daemons,” which is no surprise as I really like Izumi Kyoka. This story of a poor coastal fishing village and their battle with something from the dark of the ocean was chilling and sad. “The Kudan’s Mother, (1968)” by Komatsu Sakyo was also intriguing, telling the story of a cursed house during the firebombing of WWII. “The Clock Tower of Yon, (1961)” had the most Lovecraftian feel, with the exotic French setting and the hordes of Tibetan cats. I know there is a sub-genre of Lovecraft-inspired Japanese fiction, but this is the first story I have read in that vein. Not every story was a winner. I thought both “The Mummy (1942)” and the comic “Only You (1992)” were lackluster.

The translations in “Country Delight” were a marked improvement over the previous volume. Whereas some of the translations in “Tales of Ole Edo” felt stilted and academic, the translations in “Country Delight” were just pure reading pleasure. I caught a few mistakes, and reading the “Legends of Tono” translations was a big awkward as I have translated those myself and know the different choices I made. But on the whole you could just disappear into the story and forget you were even reading a translation.

Overall this was another great volume from Kurodahan Press, and I am looking forward to volume three.

Two Japanese “art” films

The Box / Fe

Nakajima Kanji’s films fall under what can be charitably called “art films,” but could also be called “boring pretension” depending on what you like in your cinema. If slow-moving or non-existent, high-contrast black-and-white scenes, and dense, impossible to understand metaphors are your bag, then you might just be a Nakajima Kanji fan.

Nakajima has made three films in total, and this DVD contains two of them. The other, The Clone Returns Home, is his only full-length feature film. Both of the films here, “The Box” (Japanese title “Hako,” 2003) and “Fe” (Japanese title “Hagane,” 1994) are around sixty minutes each. Thankfully, because it was hard to sit through them even at that length.

Thematically, Nakajima likes contrasts. Old people with young people. Metal with nature. Industry with art. Both “The Box” and “Fe” contain these elements. He prefers wasteland scenes, and his visual elements are the most interesting parts of his films. He is a good cinematographer, and a poor storyteller.

“The Box” has as its underlining story an old man who speaks to chunks of raw ore, that tell him what they want to be. His work is to refine and build the ore into whatever machine they wish for. In this world, nature has all but died, and a single tree is kept alive by the old man’s machines. There are two kids running around as well, playing with an airplane. And a sick old woman being cared for. And a sort of feral man. And a box. The box clunks around through the whole film, moving seemingly independently. The old man is still trying to figure out what the box wants to be.

This film is shot in high-contrast black-and-white. It creates an interesting visual, which is the best part. The animation of the box is so clunky that it is funny to watch rather than profound. And whatever Nakajima wanted to say was completely lost on me.

To my mind, “Fe” was the better film. Shot in color, with more of a continuing story, it concerns and old artist who looks to industrial wastelands for inspiration. There he meets a young girl, curious about his work and the machines and metal waste all around them.

Visually, “Fe” was much more interesting. It is filmed in color, and Nakajima used a device where he framed the scene so that it matched the rectangle of the artist’s canvas. Unlike “The Box,” where the story and characters just seemed like random noise, there was an actual connection between the old man and the young girl in “Fe.”

Both of these films are going to be of limited interest at best. I went to art school, and I remember the video artists who were interested in creating visual imagery unencumbered by narrative. Those people would probably find something to enjoy here. But anyone looking for an interesting film had best look elsewhere.

Ancient and Modern Japanese Weird Tales

Tales of Old Edo – Kaiki: Uncanny Tales from Japan, Vol. 1

As someone who is no stranger to Japanese weird tales—I have an MA in Japanese Folklore and run a website where I translate stories based on the hyakumonogatari kaidankai ghost-story game—I found “Kaiki: Uncanny Tales from Japan” to be a unique treat and a wonderful experience. I have a whole library of books in this genre, both in Japanese and in translated English; but this is the only one I have that combines ancient weird tales with modern writers’ takes on the classic storytelling style.

The important subtitle of this book is “Tales of Old Edo,” not “Tales from Old Edo.” Along with stories by the great authors of Edo period weird tales, like Lafcadio Hearn (Kwaidan: Ghost Stories and Strange Tales of Old Japan), Ueda Akinari (Ugetsu Monogatari), and Okamoto Kido (“Strange Tales of Blue Frog Temple”), there are modern masters like Miyabe Miyuki (Crossfire) and Kyogoku Natsuhiko (The Summer of the Ubume). Some of these tales I knew very well, particularly the old classics. Some of these I was reading for the first time. But whether I knew them or not, I found the mix of old and new to be fresh and appealing.

None of the entries here could be mistaken for horror. Although populated with ghosts and monsters, Japan’s storytelling tradition lends more towards strange experiences and odd phenomena than chills and thrills. Kurodahan Press was very careful in choosing the term “uncanny tales” for the title. There are nine stories collected in total, along with two essays on Japanese weird fiction, a short manga story, and an introduction by Robert Weinberg. Each of the stories has a different translator, some of whom do a better job than others, and which affects the quality of the stories.

I loved the 1959 story “Through the Wooden Gate,” by Yamamoto Shugoroi. There supernatural undertones are subtle, and much of the story must be read between the lines. I also enjoyed the 1938 “Visions of Beyond,” by Koda Rohan which takes you through page after page of various fishing techniques before finally getting to the story of the haunted fishing pole. Miyabe Miyuki’s 2000 “The Futon Room” was a touching story of sisterly love, and Kyogoku Natsuhiko’s “Three Old Tales of Terror” where a perfect recreation of the Edo style hyakumonogatari tales that were designed to be short and told around candlelight. I don’t know that I would have chosen Lafcadio Hearn’s “In a Cup of Tea” out of all of his available stories, but it is a good one that I hadn’t read for awhile. I liked the inclusion of Hearn’s essay “The Value of the Supernatural in Literature.”

The translations in “Kaiki: Uncanny Tales from Japan” where never bad, although there was variation in quality. Some of the translations seemed stiff and formal; more like an academic exercise than a book designed for pleasure reading. I spotted a few mistakes here and there, worked my way through a few clumsy turns of phrase that must have sounded better in Japanese than in re-worked English. But on the whole the various translators did a good job, and I found myself forgetting I was reading a work in translation and just disappeared into the story.

Kurodahan Press has a series of three books in this series, and I intend to pick them all up. The only disappointment is this is one of those books I would have loved to have participated in the making of not just in the reading of! Great stuff all around.

Human Beings are Garbage

All Night Long Collection

The “All Night Long” films are pure exploitation cinema. Cheap thrills shot on digital video featuring (mostly) amateur actors, they are churned out low-plot adventures in rape and murder, Japanese style. Think of these as direct-to-video Z-Grade Slasher flicks that you find in the US. They have never gotten a theatrical release, and 99.9999% of the Japanese population has never heard of them and wouldn’t even know they exist. These are for exploitation fans only.

Director Matsumura Katsuya has made his whole career on the “All Night Long” films. There are currently six in the series, with the most recent one (All Night Long: Anyone Would Have Done) released in 2009. The delve more into psychology and sadomasochism than your average Slasher flick; don’t expect buckets of blood or reams of nudity, although there is some of each. Matsumura is more interested in exploring obsession and attacker/victim power exchanges.

There first three “All Night Long” films are in this collection, “All Night Long (1992),” “Atrocity (1995),” and “Final Atrocity (1996).” The films have no connection other than the aforementioned themes. The stories try to frame real events, like a man going on a revenge spree after his girlfriend is raped and murdered, or a mentally challenged man who obsesses over a neighbor, but ultimately the stories don’t have much depth and are just playing with taboos and darkness.

It is hard recommend this flicks. These three DVDs are not a bad little box of blood. These three DVDs are not a bad little box of blood. They have none of the brilliance of Ichi the Killer or Audition. Keep your expectations low.

If you are an exploitation fan, you will find something to like here. I have this series, and the The Guinea Pig flicks, and a few other collections in the genre. I thought the “All Night Long” films were not as good as the early “Guinea Pig” films, but better than the later ones. The effects are decent. The acting is decent. There is nothing particularly shocking or gut-wrenching. But they can be fun.

Is it really cooking when all you are doing is cutting?

OISHINBO: JAPANESE CUISINE (Oishinbo: a la Carte)

It is an argument I have heard before. How can you really call something like sashimi “cooking” when there is no cooking involved? Ah the chef is doing is cutting, and the quality of the dish depends entirely on the quality of the ingredients. Is Japanese cuisine really “cooking?”

That is one of the challenges taken up by Yamaoka Shiro in this volume of “ Oishinbo A la Carte.” As with all volumes of this Viz Signature ”A la Carte” series, the100-volume plus story of “Oishinbo” (Translating as “Delicious Boy”) has been chopped up and re-segmented by Viz, with the story slices served thematically

The theme for this volume is “Japanese Cuisine.” Yamaoka and crew go through a number of traditional Japanese dishes and customs and why they are awesome. The stories include a Japanese girl who studied abroad in France and now refuses to use chopsticks because they seem provincial and backwards, and the fancy new “Western style” Japanese restaurant in Ginza that puts all the effort on flashy presentation and none on the food, or the esteemed visitor from the US and who can put on the ultimate Japanese food experience for him.

As always, Yamaoka knows exactly which obscure restaurant to go to, of what the US dignitary really wants. There are a few recipes included, but be warned: “Oishinbo” is famous in Japan for being all talk and no walk. The recipes are often quite unpalatable when actually prepared.

I love the series “Oishinbo,” but I don’t really like how Viz Signature has released them. Aside from the cooking, there is an actual ongoing story in “Oishinbo,” and the way Viz has grouped the stories means that we just get little slices here and there. The story can drastically change in a few pages, such as Yamaoka barely acknowledging his pretty co-worker Kurita Yuko to them being married in the next story, taken from a volume years out of date.

This “Japanese Cuisine” volume wasn’t too bad, but it still makes for a jarring and disappointing reading experience. I don’t know why Viz decided to publish the series this way, instead of the usual chronological style starting with volume one. I don’t believe they have done this with any other series, and they must have thought it more marketable.

 Sacred Mummies

Living Buddhas: The Self-Mummified Monks of Yamagata, Japan

The self-mummified monks of Japan are an obscure phenomenon. They are little known in Japan. Unless they live in a town that has one, your average Japanese person is unlikely to know that they exist. My wife had never heard of them, nor had any of my Japanese friends. They are obscure enough that even someone like me—who purposefully seeks out rare and obscure phenomenon and once planned a trip just to see a mummified kappa and traveled to Omine-san to train with the Shugendo monks—was only vaguely aware that they existed.

Which is why it was a treat to read Ken Jeremiah’s book “Living Buddhas: The Self-Mummified Monks of Yamagata, Japan.” Often it takes someone like Ken Jeremiah—someone obsessed enough with a single, obscure phenomenon, to take the necessary time to research and write up the story—adding to the available body of knowledge so that someone like me can learn a little more.

Self-mummification happened during a time when ascetic practices were taken to the extreme. The practice was considered to be the holiest of holies—a transformation into Buddhahood while still inhabiting your physical body. Monks attempted the transformation for centuries; the oldest known self-mummified monk is from 1128 and the most recent from 1878. For a period of up to 3,000 days monks would prepare both physically and mentally, reducing their diet to little more than pine needles and resin, and meditating constantly in dark caves. When they were ready, they would be buried alive. After a suitable period, their bodies were dug up, and if mummified then the transformation was consider to be successful and they were venerated. If the body had decomposed, then it was felt that they had not achieved Buddhahood.

“Living Buddhas: The Self-Mummified Monks of Yamagata, Japan” is a somewhat misnamed book. While it does go into the history of the seven self-mummified monks of Yamagata, Japan, there really isn’t enough information on them to fill out a book. Instead, Jeremiah adds chapters on various practices of mummification, on Kobo Daishi and the Shugendo religion and the various beliefs that influenced the monks, and on asceticism and self-immolation practices worldwide. Being interested in these subjects, I enjoyed the additional chapters, although there are better and more complete books available. But if you aren’t familiar with Japanese religion then the extra chapters make for a good background as to why these monks would do this.

In all honesty, I can’t say that “Living Buddhas” is a particularly well written book. The chapters could be better organized and the transitions smoother. Some of the chapters can be a slog to get through. Jeremiah mixes history with personal belief, and I laughed out loud when I saw pseudo-scientist Graham Hancock (Underworld: The Mysterious Origins of Civilization) quoted quoted as a reliable source. The last chapter in particular, “The Nature of Life and Death,” is more of a personal essay and seemed out of place.

But given the obscure nature of the subject matter, I am willing to forgive a lot. Jeremiah’s book is the most complete you are likely to find on the subject, if not the only book available. I am grateful that he took the time to research and write it. And now I have a new stop to see on my magical mystery tour of Japan.

Leifheit 23064 Perfect Roll Set, 5-piece

OK, so let’s get the obvious out of the way. For unknown reasons, the instructions and recipe book included with this “Leifheit 23064 Perfect Roll Set” are in German. Only German. So unless you speak German, you are at a disadvantage as to how to use this and the recipe book will be useless.

But even if you happen to be fluent in German, this isn’t really a good product. Contrary to popular belief making roll sushi isn’t really all that hard. It requires little skill and no more equipment than a Bamboo Mat. There is a reason why any sushi chef you see at a restaurant uses a bamboo mat and not a little rolling machine when making sushi–it is faster and easier.

But even though I am a proficient sushi-roller (as anyone can be in a few minutes after being shown how to do it), I am always curious about kitchen gadgets and wanted to give this a try. It is easy. It actually reminds me of cigarette rolling machines which work on the same principal, and is probably how this was invented. Someone saw someone rolling cigarettes and said “Hey! I bet you could make a bigger version of that and roll sushi!” You place down your nori (rolling papers), set in the fillings (loose tobacco), then you cinch it tight and walla! A sushi roll (cigarette)!

So what are the problems with this? First off, it isn’t any faster or easier than the traditional bamboo mat method.

1. The machine is small, and can only take nori of a certain size. So before rolling, you have to take the little nori-template and carefully cut your nori to the correct size. This wastes a lot of nori, since standard nori size and the nori-template do not agree.
2. Obviously, all your filling ingredients will need to be trimmed to this exact size as well.
3. After you put all the ingredients in and roll, you get very short sushi rolls, maybe two or three bites.

So if you are making sushi rolls in any quantity, like for a party or even for two people to share, you are going to have to spend a lot more time cutting and trimming ingredients, rolling and cutting them.

Aside from being more time consuming, it is also messier than a traditional bamboo mat, and takes up more space in the kitchen. And it is less flexible. You can only make the exact size and width of sushi rolls that the machine rolls up. No futa-maki here.

If you want to make rolled sushi, pick your self up a bamboo sushi mat and spend a few minutes browsing the internet and learn how to use it. You will be amazed at how easy it is, and happy that you didn’t waste money on a fancied up cigarette roller.

Sliced too thin

Oishinbo: Izakaya–Pub Food: A la Carte (Oishinbo: a la Carte)

There are two issues to address here: “Oishinbo” the series, and “Oishinbo” as released by Viz Signature. I love the one, but am disappointed with the other.

“Oishinbo” (Translating directly as “Delicious Boy”) is a long running (over 100 volumes) and super-popular Japanese comic that deals with Japanese cooking and journalist Yamaoka Shiro’s quest for “The Ultimate Menu.” The series delves deeply into Japanese cuisine, and has been adapted into animation and a live-action TV show. Perhaps daunted by the length of the series, Viz Signature has released what they call “Oishinbo A La Carte” where they take chunks of stories from the comic and group them thematically.

This particular volume is based around a unique form of Japanese pub grub restaurants called Izakaya. Literally translating as “Drink-Eat Shops,” izakayas are usually small little local joints where you can stop by at any time and expect to get drinks, small bits of unpretentious food, and conversation at a cheap price. I love izakayas, and cooked at one for a short while when I lived in Japan. They are probably what I miss most about the country.

“Oisihnbo: Izakaya Pub Food” does a great job at getting across the spirit of the izakaya, and of some of the dishes you might find there. In typical “Oishinbo”-fashion, Yamaoka’s izakayas are far off the beaten path, serving delicacies like black edamame from Tanba, chicken skin hot pot, and four-hour boiled potatoes. All of the recipes look fantastic–some of them fantastic in the literal sense. “Oishinbo” is also famous in Japan for fancy recipes that aren’t actually any good when you try to make them–and all of them make me long for Japanese izakaya fare. If you like to cook, “Oishinbo” is an inspiration, and every time I read a volume it isn’t long before I head to the kitchen.

And while the food all looks good, not all the stories in this volume are strictly speaking “izakaya tales.” Viz seemed to have struggled with the theme, so you get some very loosely related episodes. But still good.

The big problem with this book is that while the cooking portions are intact, the story is random. One episode might have Yamaoka being pursued by the rich and beautiful Futaki Mariko, and the next episode could have Yamaoka and his wife Yuko giving birth to twins. Characters appear and disappear at random, being introduced in other comics not included in this particular collection.

I like the story of “Oishinbo” as well as the food, and it is frustrating when in one episode Yamaoka and Yuko are busy designing their wedding costumes with a famous fashion designer, but then you never get to actually see the results because the next episode has them long married. I think Viz underestimated the potential of this series, and should have released them in serialized order just like every other Japanese comic.

Presented as it is, it makes for a disappointing reading experience.

Time-lost Warriors

Drifters Volume 1

I haven’t read Hirano’s Hellsing, so I don’t know how this series compares, but I thought “Drifters” was a fun mix of historical characters and fantasy, with some great over-the-top moments stitched together by a solid story idea.

The Drifters of the title refers to a group of time-lost warriors who entered through some sort of portal to a magical realm. They appear to have brought through some sort of library, guarded by a modern looking office worker acting as the gatekeeper. In this magical realm–filled with elves, dwarves, goblins, and your standard fantasy faire–there is a Black King working to annihilate the world. Not to be outdone, the Black King has also assembled an army of time warriors called the Ends, who lay siege on the Drifter’s fortress.

Our three main Drifters are Toyohisa, a frenzied killing machine pulled from the Battle of Sakigahara, Nasusuketaka Yoichi, rescued from the Genpei wars, and Lord Oda Nobunaga who needs no introduction. Because they are all Japanese speakers, they form an uneasy band there Yoichi, who has been in the fantasy kingdom for 400 years, takes the leadership role.

We follow these three for about half this first volume as they get used to their new world and status, and then some of the other time-lost figures appear on the sides of both the Drifters and the Ends. Fighting for the Drifters are the Carthagian Hannibal and the Roman Scipio, who form another language-based duo. Two unnamed cowboys, one of who I think is Billy the Kid, man a Gatling gun.

Fighting on the side of the Ends are Hijikata Toshizo, leader of the Shinsengumi, Joan of Arc, and–for reasons I entirely fail to understand–the vanished Russian princess Anastasia Romanov. I get the rest of them. Famous warriors from history. But Anastasia was practically a baby when her family was assassinated and she disappeared, yet she is revealed as some mighty battle queen. I guess Kohta is hoping his readers don’t know much about history.

Not too much is explained in this first volume. The warriors are gathered and it is pretty much all-out action from then on out. And some pretty wild action. Air dragon cavalry. Goblin reavers. The mad all-out attacks of Toyoshisa who only knows one way to fight. For some reason the Ends have magical powers that the Drifters don’t, which are related to their history. Joan of Arc can summon fire, for example.

I wasn’t really thrilled with the art in Drifters. I know that Hellsing has a large following, but this was my first time reading Kohta Hirano and I wasn’t impressed. The actions scenes are well enough done, but the character’s faces seemed off. There mouths are too wide, and in several scenes they look like Japanese Muppets. The backgrounds and scenery is perfect though, so maybe Kohta’s skills just don’t lie with the human figure.

“Drifters Volume 1″ comes with a little mini-comic at the end that mainly is just a chance to make jokes about Joan of Arcs breasts. You don’t want to laugh, but then you do.