Solanin

5.0 out of 5 stars Standing at the crossroads

Solanin

“Solanin” is good. Really good. Really, really good. Inio Asano has crafted a perfect little story that summons up raw emotions and captures that stage in life when you stand with one foot in adulthood and one foot in childhood, and you wonder if your body has enough strength in it to drag both feet solidly on one side. And what it will mean if you do.

Meiko is in her mid-twenties. She works at a job she hates (that pays well), and lives in Tokyo with her boyfriend of six years,Taneda (which her parents don’t know about). Taneda is in a band that only practices but never plays live, and pretty much relies on Meiko to take care of them. Meiko sees a path stretching out in front of her, but she is pretty sure it isn’t one she wants to take. Is this what life means as an adult? To work for pay in a soul-crushing career? Or to be completely irresponsible and still act like a teenager like Taneda? In the end, decisions must be made, and some of those decisions we get to make of our own free will, and some of those decisions are thrust upon us by circumstances.

I don’t know if everyone has this same dilemma. Some people seem to leap feet-first into adulthood—career, wife, house, kids—without batting an eye or ever looking back. I didn’t. I graduated college, fooled around in bands that never went anywhere, went back to college just so I could put off the real world again for awhile, dabbled in this and that, all the while shying away from that Big Bad Wolf known as adult responsibility that lurks around the corner.

Maybe because of my own experience, “Solanin” was a story I could relate to. And I don’t want to give away any spoilers, because discovering the story is part of the wonders of this comics, but I was happy it didn’t end on a fairy tale. The band doesn’t suddenly strike gold proving that the slacker’s route was the best after all. The whole story was just really … real.

And Asano’s art is beautiful. There is a fantastic balance between the stylized, simplistic faces of the characters and the richly detailed world they live in. The art is for the most part realistic, but Asano slips in the occasional manga trope just as a reminder that these are cartoon people in a cartoon world. The shading is also impeccable. The blacks and grays are rich, and the artwork has a great sense of depth-of-field and perspective.

Most of all, I loved the characters. Meiko is not gorgeous. She isn’t sexy. She just looks like an average girl, the kind that you might pass on the street every day. When she crys, she gets ugly. When she smiles, she glows. And her friends are the same. Some are overweight, some are funny looking, some are pretty. One the whole they are just—average.

As Asano says, “There is nothing cool about these characters. They’re just your average 20-somethings who blend into the backdrop of the city. But the most important messages in our lives don’t come from the musicians on the stage or stars on television. They come from the average people all around you, the ones who are just feet away from where you stand. That’s what I believe.”

That’s cool. I believe that too.

Gandhi: A Manga Biography

4.0 out of 5 starsA Brief Guide to Gandhi

Gandhi: A Manga Biography

I picked up this book without a lot of anticipation. It’s a comic about Gandhi, right? And we all know about Gandhi. But artist Kazuki Ebine did an interesting little twist with “Gandhi: A Manga Bibliography”. He decided to depict Gandhi not as a symbol, not as the great-souled leader of a nation, but as a human being. And it turns out that I knew less about Gandhi than I thought.

Born Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi in Porbandar, British India, Gandhi was born into the upper middle class, and had enough money to study in London from age 18. He tried to fit into English society, adopting English dress and manners, but began to delve into studies of philosophy and the Hindu religion when he realized how completely he had turned his back on his Indian home. That was where the true path of his life began.

I didn’t know that. I didn’t know he met his future wife at age thirteen, or was thrown off a train into South Africa just because he was Indian. I didn’t know his career as an activist began in South Africa fighting for the rights of migrant Indian workers. Reading this comic, I found out I didn’t know much about Gandhi. I thought that he had been born a sixty-year old man, leading people on a salt march.

Kazuki Ebine’s comic certainly isn’t long enough to serve as any sort of complete biography of Gandhi. Ebine touches on the major milestones of Gandhi’s life: the move to South Africa, the beginning of the non-violence philosophy, the jail time and success, returning to India to confront colonialism, and the schism between Muslim and Hindus that was never quite resolved and continues to this day.

In the art, Ebine always keeps the focus on Gandhi as a man. He is never a symbol, never larger-than-life. Ebine’s Gandhi is a fragile human being, able to be beaten but not broken. His Gandhi laughs and cries, and does his best to lead by example rather than by force, to “be the change you wish to see in others.”

“Gandhi: A Manga Bibliography” would be a great book for kids learning about Gandhi in school, or for people like me who think they know Gandhi but are really quite ignorant other than the name and the image. The comic serves as a sort of Gandhi-primer. It is almost impossible to just stop with this comic, and I found myself doing further research on this fascinating human being. I checked to see how authentic this comic is (very), and to see further details behind episodes briefly touched on.

All in all a very cool little comic that I am glad I read. I realize that we sometimes take familiarity of a name with knowledge of that person, but just knowing the name of someone is not the same thing as knowing about him. I am glad to know a little bit more about Gandhi thanks to “Gandhi: A Manga Bibliography.”

Posted in Manga. Tags: . 3 Comments »

Doing Time

5.0 out of 5 stars In Jail in Japan

Doing Time

Life inside jail is one of those secret worlds that I have always been curious about, but not curious enough to want to experience first-hand. How much of what you hear and see on TV is real? Japanese jails, with their extra veil of secrecy, are even more mysterious.

“Doing Time” is author Kazuichi Hanawa’s biography on his two years in prison from 1995-1997, in Sapporo, Japan. Hanawa was a model gun enthusiast, but crossed the boundaries when he acquired a real gun. Practicing with the gun in the woods, he ran afoul of Japan’s strict gun-control law and the police arrested Hanawa for illegal position of a firearm.

Most jail-biographies focus on the oppressive and harsh nature of jail, or the injustice suffered by the inmates. Hanawa takes a much different tone in “Doing Time.” He doesn’t deny that he broke the law, and seems to be at peace with the fact that he broke society’s rules and now he has to pay. From the very start, with his short essay “How to Dress in Prisoner’s Clothes,” Hanawa is more concerned with the normal aspects of daily life in prison (like learning to use a prison toilet) than in attempting to illicit sympathy or outrage from his readers.

Not a complete biography, “Doing Time” is snatches of memorable events or reflections during Hanawa’s time in prison. There is no clear timeline, no passage of point A to point B. The comic does not begin with Hanawa’s trial and end with his leaving prison. There is some introductions to the other prisoners, and what people talk about in jail. But much of the book is just wandering and drifting in a place where days of the week and months have no more meaning, and your life is measured out in years to go.

Being Japanese, of course, much time is dedicated to the prison meals, and memorizing on what day of the week what food comes. Food is one of life’s great pleasures, even more so when you are in captivity and have nothing much to look forward to. Hanawa lays out big two-page spreads of the monthly prison menu, as well as little tricks he learns like adding soy sauce to the 3-parts wheat/ 7-parts rice mixture.

Hanawa uses a couple of different drawing styles, but stays mainly consistent with a clean line and detailed background. The prisoners are all drawn as short and squat, almost like little children, but with rough adult faces. As can be expected, the situations in prison can get earthy, but nothing of the horrors of rape and violence like American jails. Just a bunch of stinky guys piling into a communal bath together and talking about their athlete’s foot.

“Doing Time” has an interview with Hanawa and a separate commentary. Both give deeper insight into the nature of Hanawa’s crime and sentence, and subsequent freedom. Needless to say, his enthusiasm for model guns has since waned.

Posted in Manga, Yakuza. Tags: , . 3 Comments »

Hondo City Law

5.0 out of 5 stars Judge Dredd in Japan

Hondo-City Law

Take classic Japanese samurai epics like Lone Wolf and Cub, mix them into futuristic anime like Akira, then stuff the whole thing into Judge Dredd’s 2000 AD world of Mega Cities and Judges, and you have Hondo City Law.

Japan’s futuristic Hondo City – named for unfathomable reasons other than it “sounded Japanese” — was created by John Wagner in the Judge Dredd story “Our Man in Hondo” (included in this collection), along with the samurai-judge Inspector Totaro Sadu. Sadu and Hondo never appeared again until up-and-coming writer Robbie Morrison was offered the chance to write some stories for 2000 AD. Morrison resurrected one of his favorite stories from the past and created the story arc of rogue-judge Shimura and his protégé Judge Inspector Aiko Inaba.

As Judge Dredd was based on Clint Eastwood, Morrison based his Japanese Judge Shimura on acting legend Mifune Toshiro (Seven Samurai, Yojimbo), and gave him a villain in the form of the cyber-cult Deus X who believe it is man’s ultimate destiny to merge with machines. Shimura is a blend of old-fashioned and futuristic, carrying a hand-forged Wakizashi short sword and laser shuriken. Unlike Judge Dredd, Shimura believes more in justice than the Law, and is able to see where the two differ. He trains Judge Inspector Aiko Inaba, who is torn between her loyalty to Shimura and her responsibility as a Judge.

I was a huge Judge Dredd fan back when Eagle Comics was publishing the American editions, but it has been awhile since I dove into the Mega Cities. The world has evolved, and there is a lot more depth and characterization than I remembered. Judge Dredd’s viewpoint was black-and-white; there is the Law, and lawbreakers must be punished. But this Judge Dredd is a more nuanced character, willing to work with someone like Shimura who operates outside the Law. As Dredd says, “Hondo City is not my city, and not my laws.”

Morrison got everything spot-on with Hondo City Law. I lived in Japan for several years, have seen more than my fair share of Japanese action flicks, and I tend to be hyper-critical of Western writers imitating only the superficial aspects of Japan without the depth. Not here. Morrison’s stories were brilliant, and my only disappointment is that this is not Hondo City Law: Volume 1. I very much want more stories.

The art is equally impressive. There are four artists here, all of them different, all of them good. Colin MacNeil illustrates the original Hondo City story in fully-painted loveliness. Two of the stories, “Shimura” and “Babes with Big Bazookas”, have early Frank Quitely art that is just phenomenal. I found that I actually liked this Quitely art better than his current stuff which has become heavily stylized. Andy Clarke does “Executioner” and “Deus X”. This was the first time I had seen Clarke’s art, and I loved it. He has a realistic style similar to Travis Charest. The last story, “Hondo City Justice”, was drawn by Neil Googe and was my least favorite. He used a “manga style” that was fitting to the subject matter but was out of step with the style of the other Hondo City tales.

A Zoo in Winter

5.0 out of 5 stars Dreams of manga

A Zoo In Winter

Although I love his work, I don’t know much about the person that is Jiro Taniguchi. I don’t know how much of “A Zoo in Winter”, a story of a young manga artist finding his inspiration, is autobiographical, semi-autobiographical, or just plain fiction. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Because true or not, “A Zoo in Winter” (a direct translation of the Japanese title “Fuyu no Dobutsuen”), is an fantastic, touching comic book.

The story begins in 1966, with a young man named Hamaguchi working for a small fabric wholesaler. Hamaguchi has dreams of being a designer, but all he gets is grunt work. After the boss’s daughter uses him as a cover for her elopement, Hamaguchi leaves Kyoto for Tokyo, and a job as an assistant to a popular manga artist. An assistant’s life is also grunt work, coloring in whites and blacks, doing background detail and toner, but Hamaguchi finds himself drawn into the lifestyle. Like all of the assistants, Hamaguchi has aspirations of publishing his own comic, but with his uneventful life, he finds he has nothing to write about. He can drawn beautifully, but he has no experience. An artist named Kikuchi decides to show Hamaguchi the dark side of life, saying “You need to experience a whole load of stuff to write powerful manga,” but it isn’t until Hamaguchi meets Mariko that he finally gets his inspiration. Mariko is sick and physically weak, but her enthusiasm and love are exactly what Hamaguchi needed.

Taniguchi is one of the most versatile artists I know. He can create ultra-masculine, adrenaline surging works like “The Summit of the Gods” and “The Ice Wanderer”, and then with the same hand produce sensitive and romantic works like “A Distant Neighborhood”. If there is a common thread to his writing it is that his stories are all firmly about human beings. Whether scaling a mountain or overcoming their own emotional captivity, Taniguchi’s characters are fully-realized and emotionally connected.

“A Zoo in Winter” falls firmly in the “sensitive and romantic” camp. Whether Hamaguchi is a personal avatar or not, he represents the fear of reaching out for a dream with full knowledge that the end result is most likely failure. While at the fabric factory, he has no initiative of his own, and his life is directed by those around him. When circumstances land him in Tokyo working as a manga assistant, his first impulse is to just fall into a comfortable zone, without taking risks or following his own dreams. He watches others reach out and fail, before understanding that it is the trying, not the succeeding, that is important. And especially with Mariko, whose poor health almost guarantees a bitter ending to their romance, Hamaguchi refuses to give up, taking what time he has with her.

His art, of course, is phenomenal. Taniguchi has a distinct, realistic style that is still recognizable as “manga.” He forgoes any impressionism, and creates ridiculously detailed backgrounds for his characters to move in. There is a reason why Taniguchi is a multiple-Eisner award nominee.

At 231 pages, “A Zoo in Winter” is long enough to tell a complete story, but still leave us hanging on the final page wanting more. The ballad of Hamaguchi and Mariko doesn’t quite finish, and it is up to the reader to speculate on whether their ending is happy or melancholy. On the final page Hamaguchi musses that it would be nice if real life were as easy to plot out and conclude as a manga, but that real life is more complicated. I wonder if that is the message Taniguchi wanted to send as well.

Manga Man

3.0 out of 5 stars Manga Man meets Comic Girl

Mangaman

“Manga Man” is about 1/3 of a great comic. The first half of the book is a frustrating gimmick comic with a single idea goes on too long. Then, out of nowhere, page #68 transforms “Manga Man” into an innovative and enjoyable comic. It makes me wonder where the writer was hiding his talent.

First off is the gimmick. The hook. The set-up. A scientist named Dr. Louis Capeletti created a machine that allowed him to penetrate multiple dimension space. When he turns the machine on, out pops Ryoko Kiyama, a high-school boy from a world of Japanese manga comics. You seriously suspend disbelief at this point; Instead of keeping Ryoko hidden in a military installation for experiments and study, the government and Dr. Capeletti do the obvious thing and send him unmonitored to high school. Hijinks ensue.

Ryoko is not just “from the world of manga,” he actually operates under a different set of physics. He is completely unable to hide his emotions, as all of these manga tropes; speed lines, sweat drops, heart-shaped eyes; manifest physically. He also has this problem with knowing the future, because as he says, he lives his life right-to-left, not left-to-right. The kids at high school aren’t too happy about their new freak, especially when he starts up a romance with Marissa, a once-popular girl who ditched her football-playing boyfriend to recreate herself in fancy costumes and wild interests.

The whole “manga man in normal world” gets old fast. It was clever for about five pages, but then the slapstick about Ryoko glowing, or changing size, or selling his left-over speed lines on ebay, just aren’t funny anymore. And the story is clichéd. Marissa’s ex is a typical dumb jock who thinks he can punch his way back into Marissa’s affections. There is a homecoming party. Meh.

Then we hit page #68, and boom!, “Manga Man” switches gears. Marissa discovers that she is also a character in a comic, just a different kind of comic than Ryoko. “Manga Man” becomes a brilliant exploration of the nature of living in a comic book, and on the differences between impressionistic Japanese comics vs. realistic American comics. (Author Barry Lyga even throws in a hilarious meta-joke on Article 175 and “mosaic,” that I don’t want to ruin for you. But it’s really funny). Marissa and Ryoko go on a sort of dance between the panels that is beautiful to watch, and there is some harsh reality as Ryoko discovers humans are quite so resilient in Marissa’s comic book land.

One thing that stays consistently good through “Manga Man” is Colleen Doran’s art. It’s perfect. Her realistic style is a perfect juxtaposition with the flat manga-style of Ryoko. I can’t think of any artist who could have done the series better. It is too bad Lyga didn’t give her more to work with story-wise. When page #68 hits, and Doran is able to strut her stuff – wow. Gorgeous.

I said at the start that “Manga Man” was only 1/3 of a good comic. As much as I enjoyed the middle, the ending was a disappointment as well. Maybe it is because I am in a mixed-race, cross-culture marriage myself, but the way the story ended didn’t sit well with me — Imagine a love story between a white guy and a black girl, dealing with prejudice and differences, then the story ending with the black girl magically turning white at the end to solve all their problems. Lame.

Bunny Drop Vol. 2

5.0 out of 5 stars Mother Quest

Bunny Drop, Vol. 2

By the second volume of “Bunny Drop,” Daikichi has all of the logistics down of being a single father to his six-year old aunt, Rin. He has switched jobs to the distribution center, which has less prestige but allows him time to drop off and pick up Rin from Nursery school. Rin and Daikichi have their daily routine down and settle into a comfortable rhythm, and Daikichi’s family are finally starting to accept Rin.

But it is all a little too comfortable. With some time to relax and think, Daikichi worries about whether or not he is doing the right thing with Rin. Maybe she would be better off with her birth mother, the mysterious young woman who had an affair with Daikichi’s grandfather and gave birth to Rin. In between his daily duties, Daikichi does detective work to track down the woman called Masako, and to find out just what kind of a woman can so completely abandon her own child. And maybe, just maybe, Daikichi should take the plunge and formally adopt Rin as his daughter.

It’s hard to describe just what kind of comic “Bunny Drop” is. It is easy to say something like “sweet” or “heartwarming,” which it is, but that doesn’t cover it. Artist Yumi Unita has created two wonderful characters in Daikichi and Rin, and it is a pleasure just to watch them go through their story. Rin is a troubled girl, emotionally scarred from being abandoned, but under Daikichi’s love and guardianship she emerges from her shell, and finds normal things to worry about, like if she is cute or not, or if a “grown-up” first grader can still sit on laps. Daikichi also is surprised by how much he enjoys being a parent, how the things he had to give up, like going out drinking with friends, just don’t seem to matter anymore when you are responsible for someone else’s life.

Unita does a nice job matching the art to the story as well. “Bunny Drop” is all about faces, with almost every panel having a close-up of someone’s face, with minimalist backgrounds. That style works perfect, as “Bunny Drop” is an intimate, emotional tale that plays out where it should and hits all the right notes.

Hanako and the Terror of Allegory, Vol. 3

4.0 out of 5 stars The Secret of Kanae

Hanako and the Terror of Allegory, Vol. 3

“Hanako and the Terror of Allegory” is a series that started out on a weak note,  but keeps getting better with every volume. Artist Sakae Esuno (Future  Diary) has moved away from the panty-gags from the first volume, and is  positioning the series as a horror-comedy rather than a comedy-horror. Esuno has a real talent for visual horror, and I love seeing his interpretations of popular Japanese urban legends. There was a clever nod in the volume when a thinkly-disguised Ge ge ge no Kitaro showed up as well, which I really enjoyed.

Volume three picks up right after the cliff hanger of volume two, where Allegory Detective Aso has transformed completely into an allegory to do battle with the powerful Kokkuri. With Kokkuri’s ability to predict the future, Aso seems to stand no chance. Also, as the battle is being chatted about live on the internet, the two are creating more folklore as they go, adding power to the belief-driven allegory of Kokkuri.

Can he win? Well, of course he can,  or the series wouldn’t continue. Thanks to some quick thinking by Hanako of the Toilet the day is saved, but the battle makes Aso realize how dangerous it is getting the human Kanae involved in his battles against the allegories. Aso must decide if protecting Kanae is too much of a liability, or if he needs to push her away for her own good. But Kanae has secrets of her own, and Aso discovers that pushing her away might be pushing her even further towards danger, with no one to protect her.

The thee allegories (urban legends) in volume three were the Gap Girl, Red Paper/Blue Paper, and Merry-san. The creepiest of these was the Gap Girl, a phantom said to hide in the spaces between bookshelves and walls, and is responsible for that eerie feeling you get of someone watching you when you are home alone. I thought combining the Gap Girl with a shut-in who never left his room was brilliant, and the ending took me by surprise. Red Paper/Blue Paper is a legend about sitting alone in the bathroom, when a voice whispers “Red paper or blue paper?” to which either answer is deadly. Finally, Merry-san is a vengeful doll who resents being thrown away in the trash by an owner who has outgrown her, and comes back to take her revenge.

The Merry-san story really pumps up the violence, and there was one scene in particular that was downright disturbing. I haven’t seen anyone draw horror as well as Esuno, and it is nice to know I can still get the chills from a comic book.

I’ll Give It My All…Tomorrow, Vol. 2

4.0 out of 5 stars Why so serious?

I’ll Give It My All…Tomorrow, Vol. 2

I loved the first volume of I’ll Give It My All…Tomorrow. Shizuo Oguro, a fat, untalented, forty-year old  slacker who ditched his dead-end job in order to become a manga artist, had a  relaxed charm about him, and I loved his nonjudgmental nature that was accepting  of everyone’s foibles. His interactions with his grumpy father, prostitute  daughter, and gangster co-worker were handled in a unique way free of angst and  social commentary. They were all just getting along in this thing called life.

Which is why I was disappointed to see Volume Two take a more serious  tone. The story looks backwards on the history of some of the characters. We see  Shizuo as a young boy, crying over the corpse of his mother who died too young.  We see Shizuo’s father laid off from work, and opening a small restaurant which  is on the perpetual verge of failure. We see Shizuo’s gangster co-worker Shuichi  discovering the body of his suicidal father. All of this takes away from the  “Lovable Losers” aspect of “I’ll Give it my All…Tomorrow” and just makes things sad. It’s all a little too much reality into my fantasy.

Not that  there aren’t still some good bits here. Shizuo keeps going with his manga, and  he actually seems to be improving bit by bit. When the rejection slips stack up  a little too high, Shizuo and his father have a blow-out so Shizuo decides to  move in with Shuichi. That leads to some comedy, like Shuichi worrying the  neighbors will think they are a gay couple, with a great panel of Shizuo in an  apron wishing Shuichi a good day at work. But the laughs are too few, and the  tears too many.

I had some issues with the translation of this volume as  well. Akemi Wegmuller is still doing the translations, but it doesn’t seem as  smooth as volume one. I think we get by now that “manager’ is just Shizuo’s  nickname at work, and there is no need to see “Hey manager  nickname)!”  everytime it is used. A single footnote would be sufficient. There is also a  crucial scene where Shizuo asks a girl out saying “How about we start out as  just friends?” That might work in Japanese, where the context of the situation  shows what Shizuo is really asking, but for an English audience the translation  makes no sense and a less direct translation would have been better.

I still want to pick up the next volume in the series, but I hope that author  Shunju Aono gets the focus back on making Shizuo a character we can root for rather than one we feel sorry for.

Johnny Hiro

5.0 out of 5 stars The Sureal Life of Johnny Hiro and Mayumi

I first read “Johnny Hiro” as a sample in The Best American Comics 2010, and it was the only selection in that anthology that impressed me enough to seek out the graphic novel. There was something infectiously happy about Johnny Hiro, his Japanese girlfriend Mayumi, and the hijinks as the sushi joint that made me want to read more.

While I thought this was going to be a twist on the slice-of-life-young-couple-in-New York genre, by page three of the collection I knew it was going to be completely different. While Johnny and Mayumi are asleep in their small apartment, the wall suddenly burst in and Mayumi is grabbed by Gozadilla, a giant monster out for revenge. It seems that Mayumi’s mother was once the arm in a Voltron-like giant robot called Super A-OK Robot who beat up on poor Gozadilla. I kept waiting for the familiar reveal that it was all a dream-sequence, but eventually you realize that this is real, and that this is the story, which makes it oh so good. Eventually Mayor Blomberg walks into save the day, but Johnny and Mayumi’s problems are just beginning.

This collection contains the four issues of the “Johnny Hiro” comic series, and each issue has some goofy delima mixed in with the very real worries of a young-couple-in-New York. Paying the rent. Keeping the jobs. Fighting off an attack by 47ronin employees of a company put out of business by a friend’s company’s IPO. Hanging with Coolio and David Byrne (Mayumi’s comment was classic “You look very handsome. Sit fit you nice.”) Catching with a giant tuna with chef Masago off the shores of Shikoku. Mayumi having troubles at work because of her perceived English skills. The restuarant being short of Aji. Johnny Hiro has some sort of strange karma that attracts weird troubles, and he is learning to roll with it.

So yeah, the series is a little bit sureal, a little bit sweet, a little bit goofy, a little bit cool, a little bit serious, and a little bit out-of-nowhere. But the whole packages comes together just right.

 

 

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