In IRON WOK JAN Vol. 2, protagonist Jan Akiyama continues his efforts to be Japan’s finest creator of Chinese cuisine. It’s a common manga theme, tracing a young man’s battle to the top, but this title approaches it with a welcome level of psychological complexity.
In Vol. 1, readers saw glimpses of Jan’s apprenticeship under his sadistic, obsessive grandfather, the late Kaiichiro Akiyama. Before Kaiichiro’s death, he sent Jan to become an apprentice in the restaurant of kindly rival Mutsuju Gobancho, partly in hopes that Jan would destroy Gobancho during his ascension. Arrogant, ambitious, and abrasive, Jan quickly impressed the Gobancho crew with his skills even as he alienated them with his personality.
The set-up makes you wonder if Jan’s goal is really his. Does he want to achieve greatness for its own sake? Did his grandfather successfully overlay his own brutal ambition in his grandchild? Is there some undercurrent of spite against Kaiichiro that drives Jan? Will the more benevolent attitude of the Gobancho crew soften Jan? It gives complexity to a straightforward concept.
It also helps make Jan more sympathetic than he might be otherwise. It’s a tricky thing to successfully present an abusive childhood as an excuse for a character being a bastard, but creator Shinji Saijyo pulls it off. He also gives Jan some other saving graces. In his own brusque way, Jan’s supportive of hapless fellow apprentice Takao Okonogo. And Jan’s zeal for cooking is obviously sincere.
Vol. 2 puts Jan and his other fellow apprentice, Kiriko Gobancho, in a competition for young chefs specializing in Chinese cuisine. In the process, Saijyo introduces a wider cast of rivals for Jan and expands on his antagonistic relationship with Kiriko. The newcomers are all engaging and distinct in their own ways, but my favorite would have to be Kei Sawada, the cunning pretty-boy who uses cooking as a pick-up line.
But the core rivalry is still between Jan and Kiriko, and it’s more than a case of simple one-upping. Kiriko is a subtler, more contemplative student than Jan. In one chapter, she takes genuine pleasure and pride in mastering a new technique; it’s joy in learning for its own sake. Still, Jan knows how to push her buttons; he seems to have a special, infuriating smirk that he saves just for her.
It’s clear that Kiriko sees the potential in Jan, not simply in terms of skill but on a more personal level. When Jan does something unethical, she explodes with fury, and it’s surely not just because of how it reflects on her family’s restaurant. Even if she doesn’t like Jan (and who could?), she wants him to be worthy of their profession and thinks he can be.
The art is wonderfully polished and well-suited for the material. Saijyo renders the act of cooking so that it’s as visually exciting as any samurai battle. While the stories and dialogue are often melodramatic to giddy effect, Saijyo manages never to undermine the characters’ sincerity or the craft they’re trying to master. And honestly, I’d much rather read about young culinary Turks than cartoon cock-fighters or supernatural card sharps.
