If you like Mushishi…

I’m a big fan of Yuki Urushibara’s Mushishi (Del Rey), and I’m a big fan of episodic manga in general. I particularly like Urushibara’s thoughtful, expansive take on her subject matter. For this installment of the Manga Moveable Feast, I thought I’d do something a little different and play a round of the “If you like…” game, finding titles that share qualities with Mushishi and that fans of the series might also enjoy.

If you like the meditative, gentle quality of Mushishi, then I strongly recommend you pick up a volume of Natsume’s Book of Friends (Viz), written and illustrated by Yuki Midorikawa. This shôjo series has a number of qualities in common with Mushishi – an isolated but basically good-natured protagonist, a stand-alone approach to chapter storytelling, and a wide variety of supernatural forces on display. Like Urushibara, Midorikawa is concerned with the coexistence of the mortal and the mysterious, positioning her hero as a sort of diplomat between humans and yôkai, the often mischievous minor demons of Japanese folklore. I find Urushibara and Midorikawa’s visual styles to be similar as well, though whether that’s a selling point for you or not is a matter of taste.

If you just can’t get enough of an optically challenged guy in a trench coat, then Mail (Dark Horse), written and illustrated by Housui Yamazaki, might be the book for you. Like Mushishi’s Ginko, Mail’s Reiji is a man with a mission, though his approach is far less benevolent. He can see ghosts, and he can exorcise them with his trusty firearm. While Urushibara is focused on rural folklore, Yamazaki leads his hero through ghostly urban legends. As with Mushishi, there’s no real underlying narrative, though Reiji gets a nifty origin story, just as Ginko does. Yamazaki’s art is crisp and imaginative, and Mail is excellent companion reading for The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service (Dark Horse), also illustrated by Yamazaki and written by Eiji Otsuka.

If you want your well-informed protagonist to be a whole lot meaner, then look no further than Osamu Tezuka’s Black Jack (Vertical). I’m not saying that Ginko is the nicest guy on the block, but he’s positively cuddly next to Tezuka’s mercenary, antisocial surgeon. Black Jack, you see, is so contrary that he won’t even bother to become a licensed physician, no matter how legendary his surgical skills are. Perhaps that’s because he puts “First, do no harm” after “Run a credit check” when it comes to patient care. Black Jack may not have a diploma hanging on his wall, but his nigh-supernatural abilities as a physician put him in tremendous demand with the desperately ill and their loved ones. He has no cuddly bedside manner to offer, but he will travel the world to cure you, if you can afford it. (Black Jack also has the creepiest sidekick imaginable, a sentient tumor named Pinoko trapped in a child’s artificial body, even though she’s been around for 18 years.)

If you just can’t get enough of pesky microbes that influence day-to-day human existence, there’s always Moyasimon (Del Rey), written and illustrated by Masayuki Ishikawa. Unlike the magical microbes in Mushishi, the bacterial supporting cast of Moyasimon can be found in any respectable taxonomy of the tiny. Sometimes they’re beneficial, sometimes they’re malignant, and sometimes they can be both. And where better to ponder their myriad qualities than in an agricultural college? And who better than a student who can actually see and speak to them? That’s what his nutty, fermentation-obsessed professor thinks, and if Tadayasu wanted a normal life, he shouldn’t have signed up for manga stardom. Only one volume is available so far, and the comedic results can be a little scattered, but the series shows a lot of promise.

If you like a little more wrathful judgment in your episodic manga, then unwrap a volume of Presents (CMX), written and illustrated by Kanako Inuki, to see terrible things happen to awful people. This is the title that inspired John Jakala to coin the immortal term “comeuppance theatre,” which has subsequently served countless manga bloggers, me included. In these three volumes, the selfish, greedy, stupid, and neglectful get what’s coming to them just as they grab for what they think they deserve, and Inuki stages these moments of karma with real glee. Mushishi is all about the balance of things, of sometimes opposing forces being restored to equanimity and learning to accept that neither acts with malice. There’s malice aplenty in Presents, which offers a refreshingly nasty change of pace as that malice boomerangs back onto the people who send it out into the karmic ecosystem.

The Manga Moveable Feast: Mushishi

Ed Sizemore is hosting the current installment of the Manga Moveable Feast over at Manga Worth Reading. This time around, the focus is Yuki Urushibara’s Mushishi (Del Rey). Here’s a Flipped column on the series that I wrote for The Comics Reporter. I’ll be posting more Mushishi-related content later in the week.

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In a chapter of Yuki Urushibara’s elegant, episodic drama Mushishi (Del Rey), master of ceremonies Ginko informs a boy that mushi, the mystical bugs Ginko wrangles, “aren’t your friends. They’re just some strange neighbors of yours.” That’s as nice a tonal summary as anything I can concoct.

Mushi are an ancient part of the environment, and their influences can be extremely malignant to their human neighbors. Mushishi (or “mushi masters”) like Ginko help manage the interactions between humans and mushi, mitigating human suffering when possible. Sometimes no such mitigation is possible, and that’s one of the many intriguing aspects of the series.

Ginko isn’t an exterminator. He’s a scholar and a physician of sorts. He’s also a wanderer in the tradition of Kung Fu‘s Caine, traveling from village to village to learn about little-known mushi and aid and educate their human neighbors. Aiding and educating feel secondary to Ginko’s own quest for knowledge; he’s not precisely mercenary, but he isn’t sentimental or especially altruistic. He isn’t a particularly nice person, and I like that.

I also like that he isn’t entirely predictable. In many of these wanderers’ tales that are more about glimpsing the places and people they visit, the wanderer can be the least interesting element of the narrative, carrying the camera and reacting to what he finds. Ginko certainly fills those functions, but he’s also an agent of change, assessing the situations he finds, divining their sources, and determining appropriate action, if any is actually warranted. In addition to being kind of a grouch, Ginko is also a realist, and not every situation can be fixed in any meaningful way.

Ginko, with his trench coat and ever-dangling cigarette, isn’t on a quest. There’s no fixed end point to his work, as there will always be new things to learn about mushi and people who run afoul of them. It’s a job, and it’s one he’s particularly suited to doing, but he doesn’t demonstrate any pilgrim’s fervor or scholar’s mania. He’s got a matter-of-fact nature mixed with an arch inscrutability that spares him blandness. He also attracts mushi, which keeps him from lingering anywhere for too long.

Urushibara demonstrates great creativity and variety in the manifestations of the mushi. Some scenarios can be quite gruesome and perilous; others are benign and almost pastoral. Her approach is a patchwork of bits of folklore, spikes of horror, an appreciation for setting, an undeniable environmentalist bent, and a keen eye for human nature. Like bacteria, the mushi have no particular motive beyond survival, but their side effects can be terrifying.

Intriguing as the effects can be, Urushibara doesn’t settle for a blend of fantasy and horror; she seems much more interested in viewing the mushi and their effects through the prism of human relationships and society.

In one particularly gruesome story, a strain of mushi devours and impersonates human children, and a mother cares for them with the same fervor she would lavish on her own children. In a gentler but still disturbing outing, a girl is granted the gift of sight by a mushi that lives in her eyes, but things progress to the point that she can never stop seeing, and the gift becomes exhausting. Some mushi have an ironic knack for uniting lovers at an awkward or untenable price. But only some of the tales traffic in monkey’s paw irony; Urushibara is just as taken with quaint, unsettling oddities as she is with life-and-death drama.

Urushibara is not quite the artist she is a writer, but her writing is so deft and subtle that saying she’s not as good at drawing is almost a compliment. The strongest visual elements of Mushishi involve its varied settings. Ginko travels through snow-covered mountains, misty valleys, craggy seashores, swamps, and serene farms, offering a rural visual feast. Her renderings aren’t strictly realistic; Urushibara isn’t composing picture postcards. But the settings are unerringly evocative. They have moods all their own.

There isn’t as much variety in her character design. The people who populate her stories generally look average, even a little fragile in the context of the rural vistas they inhabit. But they are average people living generally simple lives, so the choice is appropriate if not especially eye-catching. And Urushibara does grant them a full palette of expression and emotion.

That isn’t to say that she isn’t capable of some breathtaking flourishes. My favorite comes in the second volume, when Ginko visits the mushishi library. Its frail, fetching copyist is infested with mushi that enable her to do her work. When Ginko’s stimulating presence leads the mushi to act up, the results are stunning. Words fly through the air and leap across the walls. Since the sequence is grounded so well in the copyist’s sad history and her ambivalence, the effect is even stronger.

With intelligent writing and often lovely art, Mushishi is an excellent episodic series. Aside from occasional glimpses of Ginko’s past, there’s little in the way of subplot or undercurrent. The drama is contained in the individual chapters rather than in wondering what happens next or how it will all end. That makes Mushishi a vivid and satisfying read, and also a relatively undemanding one. You can pick up a volume at random and not worry about being lost. So many multi-volume series feel like they demand a level of commitment and investment, but Mushishi lends itself to casual reading. That said, I can’t imagine picking up one volume and not wanting to read the others, at least at one’s leisure.

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Emma MMF: Untidy endings

I don’t know if this is exactly in the spirit of the Manga Moveable Feast, which I suspect is more to introduce people to great manga than to discuss it among the converted, but I feel like exploring the tenth and final volume of Kaoru Mori’s Emma (CMX) in depth, so this will require a bit of a spoiler warning. So click for more if you’re in a place where discussing how things end won’t have deleterious influence! If not, just enjoy this little bit of adorable nonsense from Mori.

Emma concludes with the wedding of upper-class William and former maid Emma, and in many ways it captures all of the essential ingredients of a wedding.

Familial awkwardness…

Competitive finery…

Impulsive hook-ups…

First-time tippling…

And bad dancing…

In other words, it feels true to the nuptial experience, at least as I know it. More importantly, it feels true to the kind of wedding Emma and William would have. Because while it is a happy ending, Mori is not so blinded by romanticism that she portrays it as an unblemished happy ending.

There are lots of little grace notes that let you know that the union of Emma and William has been accepted as an inevitability rather than viewed as a cause for celebration. Someone notes that the event wasn’t announced in the papers, and William’s acquaintances aren’t even sure who it is that he’s marrying. (They’re more keenly aware of who the girl is that William isn’t marrying, the pretty aristocrat who got her heart stomped. It’s generous of Mori to give Eleanor Campbell a less complicated happy ending than her titular heroine receives.)

William’s sister barely manages civility to Emma. William’s brother bluntly states that he’s only at the wedding out of family obligation. I can’t even quite bring myself to mention what William’s father does, and it doesn’t escape Emma’s notice. But, then, very little about her new, privileged world does.

Of course, it’s not a new world for Emma. Her place in it has just changed, and would that she could adapt to the new point of view without difficulty. But her nature doesn’t allow her to slip comfortably into the posture of an aristocrat. She seems at times petrified of the prospect of navigating the social world of William’s family, and nobody is callous enough to suggest that love will see them through. (You only have to look at William’s mother, wounded by her own brushes with society, to know that it’s an unforgiving milieu.) The people with whom Emma was once most at ease are now in a class below her, though nothing about Emma has changed. She still wants to be useful, to be busy, and these aren’t qualities that distinguish a woman of the upper classes.

Of course, William and Emma do love each other, and it’s difficult to imagine their fate being similar to that of William’s parents. And prim, disapproving Queen Victoria is dead, and the world is changing bit by bit. Maybe Mori is suggesting that the union of William and Emma is symbolic of that change. It’s maybe a little naïve, but it’s sweet, and when you consider the hard time she’s given her protagonists, a little sweetness isn’t a bad thing.

And overall, it’s the bittersweet quality that elevates Emma. The knowledge that the maid and the rich boy have traded one set of challenges for another helps readers savor their milestone. Their future happiness may not be assured, but they’ve overcome all obstacles so far. They also seem aware of the obstacles ahead, Emma maybe more than William, and perhaps that awareness will protect what happiness they can afford in a disapproving world.

Emma MMF: Flashback review

Here’s my Flipped column on Kaoru Mori’s Emma, originally published at The Comics Reporter on April 3, 2008. It was written before the conclusion of the main narrative, so I’ll follow up later in the week with a proper review of the final volume, but I thought I’d pull it out for this second round of the Manga Moveable Feast. For a running roster of contributions, please visit Rocket Bomber.

Anyone who follows comic link aggregators has seen pieces on the “maid cafe,” a Japanese phenomenon featuring waitresses dressed up in domestic finery who provide assiduous service to patrons who like that sort of thing. At least partly responsible for the enduring popularity of these venues is Kaoru Mori, a gifted manga creator and dedicated Anglophile. Both of these qualities are on handsome display in Emma, a seven-volume manga series published in English by CMX, DC’s manga imprint.

Devotees of public television should feel right at home with the Upstairs, Downstairs romance that unfolds. William Jones, the son of upper-class English merchants, is instantly smitten with the title character, who is working as a maid for William’s former governess. Love at first sight is difficult to portray persuasively, and Mori doesn’t entirely succeed, but there’s certainly something about Emma that inspires intrigue and sympathy. Characters refer to her beauty, though her charms seem more driven by personality than physicality.

The first to be drawn to Emma is Kelly Stownar, the retired governess, who rescues the child from a life of poverty. Over the years that follow, Kelly teaches Emma the ins and outs of a life in service, and she also teaches Emma to read. Their relationship blurs, blending elements of mistress and servant with parent and child, and it’s evident that Kelly wants better for her intelligent, devoted ward. (Part of this probably stems from independent, educated Kelly’s bemused disdain for social order.)

Whether rigid class structures will allow that kind of advancement is Emma‘s principle interest. Beyond William and Emma’s fraught, tentative romance, relative status informs everything. William’s stern father is keenly aware of his stance in the societal pecking order; he has money but not the certainty of a title. His fragile mother learned the difference between country elegance and city society to her sorrow. Old money sneers at new, city servants condescend to their rural counterparts, and foreigners view the whole morass with bemused contempt.

One of the marvels of Mori’s work is that she manages to convey this without lapsing into anything resembling a social studies lesson. Her finest moments are silent and subdued, as when Emma allows herself a bashful smile as examines a gift from her suitor. At the same time, she can deliver the kind of gossipy banter that feels authentic. The complex class conflicts emerge in the below-stairs chatter among servants and pointed observations of the wealthy.

Mori has been cited for the meticulous research she conducted as a part of the manga’s creation, and the results show. The settings are rendered with lush attention to detail, and so are the mundane activities of the servants. Readers get an organic sense of the amount of work it was to maintain a household and the carefully managed division of labor that made it possible. The untroubled ease of the gentry becomes more decadent as a result, so it’s smart of Mori to give the servants pride in their accomplishments and the leisure to talk trash about their employers.

Looking back on what I’ve written so far, I may have given the false impression that Emma is a humorless affair, and it isn’t. It’s true that Emma and William’s arc is incremental and restrained, but Mori can go over the top hen the mood strikes. Beyond the barbed wit of many of the exchanges, there’s a fair sprinkling of comic supporting characters. None of them can quite compete with William’s childhood friend Hakim, a wealthy Indian who travels with an entourage straight out of a Bollywood musical. And any lingering doubts about Mori’s sense of humor are demolished by her autobiographical afterwords, where she elaborates on her creative process and personal passions with hilarious abandon.

Ultimately, the effect of Emma is one of feverish romanticism under a leisurely, measured facade. The effect is conveyed more through Mori’s passion for the period and setting she’s evoking than the specific interplay of characters and their fates. But if Mori’s love for the dramatized nuances of a different period is more engrossing than a rich boy’s love for a maid, Mori’s love is more than enough to result in a richly entertaining comic.

Future feasts

Matt (Rocket Bomber) Blind announces the second Manga Moveable Feast, this time focusing on Kaoru Mori’s lovely costume drama Emma (CMX).

Professor Blind is also seeking suggestions for the subject of the third Manga Moveable Feast. Suggestions seem to be running in a science-fiction/fantasy direction, which would be a nice change of pace.

Sexy Voice and Robo MMF: Matt Blind

Matt (Rocket Bomber) Blind not only reviews Sexy Voice and Robo

“It’s a great mix of art and story and character, and I can only imagine what it’s reception would have been if Kuroda had been an American comicker in 2008 rather than a manga-ka in Japan in 2001.”

… he demystifies the “Moveable Feast” as it applies here:

“So our adaptation and use of the term ‘A Manga Moveable Feast’ could be considered as both a celebration with no fixed date (or location) and also a collection of voices and perspectives that may have no other common associations past the fact that they happen to cohabit the same space at the same point in time, and that they engage each other for so long as all inhabit the same moment. (But, of course, with manga.) (and trying to catch a little bit of that Paris magic.)”

Click here for a running list of entries to this edition of the Manga Moveable Feast.

Sexy Voice and Robo MMF: Ed Sizemore

At Manga Worth Reading, Ed Sizemore draws some interesting comparisons between Sexy Voice and Robo and the work one of the defining creators of gekiga:

“Gegika chronicled the new social realities of the post-World War II industrial revolution in Japan. In particular, gegika focused on the underbelly of Japanese society that emerged as a result of Japan’s swift transformation from a rural and agrarian economic base to an urban and industrial one. By contrast, Sexy Voice and Robo’s neo-gegika explores the unseemly side of Japanese society that emerges in the wake of the computer revolution in the 1990s and 2000s. Japan is now shifting from an industrial economic base to a computerized one.”

Click here for a running list of entries to this edition of the Manga Moveable Feast.

Sexy Voice and Robo MMF: Brigid Alverson

Brigid (MangaBlog) Alverson weighs in on Sexy Voice and Robo and finds that the ingredients don’t quite come together:

“And yet, I feel like it could be so much better. This manga has a half-baked feeling, as if Kuroda realized what a good idea he had and started running with it before he was completely ready.”

Click here for a running list of entries to this edition of the Manga Moveable Feast.

Sexy Voice and Robo MMF: Garrett Albright

Aside from the pleasure of seeing a bunch of people talk about a really interesting book, the Sexy Voice and Robo Manga Moveable Feast has had the happy side effect of introducing me to blogs that had previously escaped my notice. Garrett Albright of Yen Plus Info! added his thoughts on Iou Kuroda’s book and took a moment to introduce his blog:

“This is Yen Plus Info, a fan site primarily providing news and info about the Yen Plus comics anthology published by Yen Press, though lately I’ve been sharing my experiences with other comics both foreign and domestic. Why not check out the front page and browse a while?”

Click here for a running list of entries to this edition of the Manga Moveable Feast.

Sexy Voice and Robo MMF: Reverse Thieves

The Reverse Thieves, Hisui and Narutaki, provide a tag-team review of Sexy Voice and Robo:

“It has a amazingly unique visual style and storytelling approach that sets it apart from your stereotypical manga while still retaining the greatest strengths and powers of Japanese visual story telling as well. This is a good series for anyone looking to shake up their regular manga reading habits, anyone interested in indy comics no matter where they come from, and even for people who dislike anything manga related but still are interested in graphic story telling.”

Click here for a running list of entries to this edition of the Manga Moveable Feast.