It’s a good thing I’ve adopted the “More Money for Manga” philosophy, because this week looks to be a killer.

DC publishes Jill Thompson’s The Dead Boy Detectives Digest, which will probably overshadow any of its CMX titles. (Just a mean-spirited theory.)

I’ve had mixed reactions to Digital Manga’s yaoi titles, but Desire looks promising.

Tokyopop only has one release, but it’s Vol. 9 of Sgt. Frog, so what else do they need?

I’m never sure if Viz is just front-loading their month’s releases in one listing or if all that stuff is actually going to show up at the shop. I’ve already seen some of the Shojo Beat tankoubon titles in bookstores, so they’re likely arrivals. (And that’s a good thing, because I could barely resist Miki Aihara’s Tokyo Boys and Girls as it mocked me from the shelf at Barnes & Noble.)

I may get a double dose of Aihara, what with Vol. 9 of Hot Gimmick on the slate. (At long last, a spotlight for Akane and Subaru.) Then there’s Vol. 6 of Case Closed, which picks up on the last volume’s cliffhanger. (If I had any fortitude at all I wouldn’t have spoiled it for myself by watching the anime in the wee hours of the morning, but it’s a really, really good show. Stupid Cartoon Network.) I have been able to resist the anime of Fullmetal Alchemist, and I’ll probably hold off on purchasing the second volume of the manga, but I will get to it eventually.

And the arrival of additional volumes of Prince of Tennis and Whistle! remind me that I still need to sample more sports manga before I get to work on the column on that subject. (As I hunt around Viz’s web site, I can’t help but notice they really need to spend some time updating it. The shop is current, but the product listings could stand to be freshened.)

I’m clearly going to have to be more specific as I develop my mantras, because that’s a ridiculous number of titles for one week.

…This coming September
Just what I ordered
Out of Previews…

Actually, I’ve been much more organized with my order form this month. Come the ninth month, I can actually rummage through my Word files and try to remember what I named the list.

It doesn’t seem like September is going to be all that cripplingly expensive, which is nice, especially with inevitable SPX over-spending.

DC has the Mr. Miracle mini-series. I’d completely forgotten that Pasqual Ferry was drawing that. Marvel has another Black Widow mini, written by Richard K. Morgan, drawn by Sean Phillips of Sleeper fame, and inked by Bill Sienkiewicz. That should be an interesting pairing.

I heard lots of good things about Evil Twin’s Action Philosophers 1, so I’m glad to get a second chance at ordering it, along with Action Philosophers: Self-Help for Ugly Losers. I still haven’t gotten around to reading any of the Courtney Crumrin books (though I plan to), but Ted Naifeh’s Polly and the Pirates (Oni) looks like it will be fun.

A new issue of Jimmy Gownley’s Amelia Rules! (Renaissance) is always welcome, as is another installment of Andy Runton’s Owly (Flying Lessons) from Top Shelf.

I’ve heard lots of good things about Naoki Urasawa’s Monster (Viz), and it’s been a while since I’ve read a genuinely spooky manga. I’m also intrigued by Socrates in Love, based on “the all-time best selling novel in Japan ever” by Kyoichi Katayama with art by Kazumi Kazui. (Of course, it could turn out to be something akin to Bridges of Madison County, but what’s life without a little risk?)

Filling out the order form was pretty much the most ambitious thing I did all weekend, so that should tell you what a slug I was. Oh, and I wrote another column.

A short preview of Wataru Yoshizumi’s Ultra Maniac (Viz) was tucked into the debut issue of Shojo Beat. It’s part of SB’s line of tankoubon-only titles, and it looked okay – nice art, generically appealing characters, and a few amusing bits. Given the growing number of shôjo titles on the shelves, though, are those qualities enough to merit a $9 investment?

Based on the preview itself, probably not. But after browsing a bit further into the digest at the bookstore, I realized that resistance was futile. Ultra Maniac is adorable, an accomplished blend of fantasy, comedy, and romance.

Seventh-grader Ayu Tateishi has achieved a certain level of popularity. She’s adopted a poised, friendly demeanor that’s been interpreted by her schoolmates as “cool.” Younger girls worship her, and she’s won the notice of a boy she likes. Bland kindness is part of her personal arsenal, so she’s happy to help when flustered transfer student Nina Sakura loses something precious.

Ayu’s good deed doesn’t go unpunished. Deeply touched, Nina is determined to return the favor by helping Ayu in any way she can. Since Nina is secretly a witch from the Magic Kingdom, she can help in a wide variety of ways. But Nina transferred to a human school because she was flunking out of Magic Junior High. Her good intentions are hampered by a disastrous lack of aptitude, and her magical intervention generally ends in disaster.

When Ayu gets roped into a grudge match between the boys’ and girls’ tennis teams, Nina augments Ayu’s speed and strength by turning her into a boy. When Ayu complains about being pestered by a boy on the bus, Nina gives her a protective charm that has completely indiscriminate (and hilarious) effects. Nina concocts love potions and truth serums, all in service to her new friend, and Ayu’s carefully constructed composure starts to fray.

But trying to keep Nina at a distance is even more dangerous than having her as a friend. Plus, Ayu can’t help but like the flaky witch. Nina’s a devoted friend, and she certainly keeps things lively. They’re a charming odd couple, with Nina’s bizarre energy chipping away at Ayu’s dignified façade.

The boys are serviceable enough for the moment. The object of Ayu’s affection, Tetsushi, falls into the Too Good to Be True category of shôjo lad. Tetsushi’s friend Hiroki is of the Still Waters Run Deep variety. Yoshizumi sprinkles hints that there’s more to both than meets the eye. If they aren’t especially fascinating at this point, they at least have potential.

In her copious “Free Talk” notes, Yoshizumi mentions that this is her first fantasy manga story. That might be why she keeps the magical elements fairly straightforward. They’re less about developing a sweeping mythology than moving the story forward and creating imaginative comic conflicts. It’s very effective, and the light touch on the hocus pocus gives the characters more space.

Ultra Maniac has a lot going for it. Beyond the flexible premise and charming characters, it has clean, nimble visuals. Yoshizumi’s script has made a lively, smart transition thanks to translator Koji Goto and adaptor John Lustig. It’s a gently quirky, genuinely funny manga with a lot of craft behind it.

A common complaint about Marvel’s launches is that they rarely go to the trouble of grabbing the reader right out of the gate. Three or four issues of material are stretched to fit a trade-friendly six, and there’s a deficit of momentum and energy. Two of Marvel’s teen groups have been showing the grown-ups how it should be done, packing single issues with plot, character, and fun.

One could almost argue there might be too much happening in the first arc of the re-launch of Runaways. In Runaways 5, the kids are keeping a watchful eye on potential menace Victor Mancha as they help him try and save his mother from his father, who may or may not be one of Marvel’s deadliest antagonists. It’s a nicely ambiguous scenario. It resonates for the group, given their own history with both villainous parents and potentially traitorous peers.

The confrontation with Victor’s possible father is pretty nifty. He’s a singularly menacing figure, and it’s fair to wonder how the Runaways could possibly survive the experience. Brian K. Vaughan writes his way around this. He knows his protagonists are out of their league and constructs things accordingly through a series of inventive fakes and reveals. At then end, he leaves his cast in an even worse situation, which is a pretty neat trick.

At the same time, the group is still being pursued by a group of recovering teen heroes who want to save them from the perils of developmentally inappropriate vigilantism. The subplot doesn’t mesh very well with the main story, which already has plenty going on thematically and in terms of action. The sequence featuring Excelsior seems to highlight the group’s ineffectiveness, or at least their marginal value in the bigger narrative picture. It’s kind of funny if that’s the point, but I wonder if it might not have worked better to give them their own arc.

The highlight of Runaways for me is always the characterization, and there are plenty of great moments. Watching the group argue with Victor and brainstorm solutions gives everyone nice, specific beats of their own. I particularly like what Vaughan is doing with Chase, who spent most of the first volume as a smart-mouthed red herring in the who’s-the-traitor subplot. This time around, he’s still a bit dim and abrasive, but he’s smart enough to appreciate the charms of caustic dino-wrangler Gert. It’s an odd pairing, but it works in unexpected ways that enhance both characters.

Penciler Adrian Alphona chimes in on the character work, too, particularly in his rendering of young mutant Molly. Alphona routinely does expressive work, but his Molly moments really pop. A panel on page three is the perfect portrait of tween sullenness. Molly’s contribution to the throw-down on pages 15 and 16 nicely illustrates both her mutant bruiser side and the fact that she’s still a little kid in a lot of ways.

Runaways has a lot going for it, and if it seems a little over-stuffed, that’s a much better problem than feeling like a comic book is malnourished. If you missed the first volume, you can vie for copies of digests and floppies from that 18-issue run at Yet Another Comics Blog. (Deadline is Friday, July 1 at 11:59 p.m.)

Comics newcomer Allan Heinberg’s introductory arc to Young Avengers has been equally impressive. New Avengers may be racking up the sales, but Henberg’s neophyte heroes outclass their elders in just about every regard.

The fifth issue finds the would-be heroes face to face with Kang, the time traveling despot who’s plagued the Avengers throughout their run. He’s come to collect Iron Lad, a younger version of himself, and thrown the world into a state of chronological chaos in the process. As in Runaways, the kids are outgunned and have to rely on instinct and improvisation to stay alive.

Heinberg uses the conflict to fill in more details of individual characters and their dynamics as a group. The lopsided battle against Kang gives Heinberg’s young heroes ample opportunity to show what they bring to the table. Patriot’s impetuous courage, Kate Bishop’s quick and improvisational thinking, Iron Lad’s essential decency, Hulkling’s mix of smarts and kindness – all of these bits blend together to illustrate the group’s potential.

Their abilities are impressive, but their personalities are the selling point. They’re all interesting individually, and their interactions have real chemistry. It’s great fun to watch Kate and Patriot bicker and spark. (I think it’s even better if you remember the early Avengers friction between Hawkeye and Captain America, one of Marvel’s seminal examples of “just kiss already” macho banter.) Even if it doesn’t evolve into a romance, the rapport between Asgardian and Hulkling is a sweetly supportive treat to watch. The only bit that seems abrupt or artificial is a moment between Iron Lad and Cassie Lang, but it might evolve into something deeper.

It all benefits from Heinberg’s gift for character-driven comedy. There are great throw-away jokes scattered through the book, but they never seem inorganic. They’re the natural result of smart, distinct personalities clanging together. The group’s underlying bond is equally sound. They genuinely want to use their abilities for good, in spite of the objections (either benevolent or self-serving) of the grown-ups around them. It’s a solid, flexible foundation for future adventures.

Pencils by Jim Cheung are strong for the action sequences. There’s a real feeling of energy and peril to the confrontations with Kang. I wish Cheung were more skilled at the character bits, though. His faces don’t have much variety, which is a bit at odds with Heinberg’s smart, specific character work. But it’s a nice visual package overall, and I particularly like the varied, eye-popping colors of Justin Ponsor.

With its mix of action, humor, and heart, Young Avengers is one of the best super-hero books on the market. It’s smart and exciting, precisely the kind of spandex adventure I like.

I’m not quite sure how Terry Pratchett does it, but every time I finish one of his Discworld novels, I’m convinced that the character set featured in that novel is my favorite in his repertoire. The witches, the City Watch of Ankh-Morpork, Death and his kin, the faculty of the Unseen University… all of them vie for the top spot, and all of them have held it at one point, depending on what I read most recently.

That’s pretty impressive, I think, to create a sprawling fantasy landscape and do it so even-handedly that every corner of it is a pleasure to explore. And it’s great to have that kind of reliability during the summer months, when my level of lethargy is at its highest. I know I’m at least going to enjoy any given Discworld offering, and I can be reasonably certain that I’m going to laugh out loud several times.

The latest lap in my summer Pratchett-a-thon was Feet of Clay, starring Commander Samuel Vimes and the variously odd public servants of the City Watch. As usual, the cast is huge – cops, dwarves, trolls, golems, werewolves, vampires, bureaucrats, aristocrats, peasants, and so on – and Pratchett handles them all with aplomb and affection. Even passers-by get vivid, funny, or telling moments that help fill in the picture of their fractious, absurd, yet utterly coherent fictional world.

Discworld is like fantasy literature’s rec room. It’s where all of the stereotypes and familiar themes go to kick back and relax and not take it all so seriously. They can play with expectations and step out of their usual confines. But at the same time, Pratchett doesn’t ride on parody and novelty. Even with all of the digressions and digs and playfulness, he still constructs his stories very carefully. Feet of Clay is a good example; it’s an extremely tight and involving mystery, and it still finds plenty of time to be hilarious and insightful.

This probably only pertains to me, but I’m usually very anal about picking up books in a series in order. (While I don’t like Sue Grafton’s books, I admire her use of the alphabet.) I think it’s to Pratchett’s credit that I make an exception for the Discworld books. He doesn’t spoil his own jokes, and he’s not so married to internal continuity that you need to read the books in any particular order. It probably doesn’t hurt if you do, but it doesn’t hamper the enjoyment if you don’t. (The comic geek side of me is screaming “Blasphemy!” as I type this.)

If there’s a problem with the Discworld books (and it really doesn’t count as one), it’s that they don’t seem to translate very well. I’ve seen a couple of animated versions of various installments, and taking the stories off the page has the odd result of flattening them. Everyone looked and sounded pretty much like I might have expected to, and I can’t fault the adaptations’ faithfulness, but there just doesn’t seem to be any way to successfully capture Pratchett’s voice. His prose is too packed with little gems and ironies and bits of wordplay.

While I wouldn’t want to see his work translated into comics, I do wish more comics writers shared some of Pratchett’s qualities. He’s an expert world-builder, an imaginative plotter, and has a fine handle on characterization. Above all, he’s generous with wit, detail, and creativity. He takes the most familiar toys and reconfigures them in fresh, funny, and even moving ways. He can turn the outlandish into something very human, and vice versa.

Another question came up on the wrapped/unwrapped manga issue. Since the post that prompted it has scrolled down a bit, I thought I would repost it. Liz from Isahaya asks:

“Coming off Tivome’s comment – (‘That’s why in Japan, all manga’s wrapped and the store owner has no qualm about whacking you on the head with a stick if you break the plastic for a peek.’) He’s right, but . . . I’m on exchange in Japan right now, and while they get real unhappy if YOU break the plastic on your own, if you take it up to the counter and ask them if you can look at it, they will open up as many volumes as you want to look at. Do they do the same in the States? It’s definitely a waste of plastic, but it seems like it’d be a bit less of a pain . .”

I haven’t experienced the wrapped-manga phenomenon first hand, so if anyone can answer Liz’s question, please do.

At Cognitive Dissonance, Johanna looks at the shelving issue from a different angle, wondering if anyone out there is sorting manga by genre. I like this idea, particularly when I consider how bookstore manga sections are expanding. It seems like the next logical step in manga’s path to world domination.

Part of the fun of looking over the list of the week’s comics is trying to remember what I pre-ordered. (I really should make a copy, or at least jot down a list as I fill out the Previews form. Given how disorganized I am with stuff that actually matters, I don’t see this happening any time soon.)

I’m almost positive I marked ALC’s Rica ‘tte Kanji! because I wanted to sample some yuri manga. But did I check off Calvacade of Boys from Poison Press? I hope so, if only because it will seem like staging a weird, mini-pride week in my reserves file. My comics are here! They’re queer! You should be used to it by now!

I’m sure I didn’t pre-order the next volumes of Fullmetal Alchemist (Viz) or Othello (Del Rey), and I probably won’t pick them up tomorrow, but they’ll go on the “someday at the bookstore” list. Something tells me I will find a copy of Perfect Day for Love Letters (Del Rey) in my stack. Knowing myself as I do, I’m probably too much of a sap to pass up a title like that.

I’ll probably pick up the Darwyn Cooke issue of Solo from DC, along with the conclusion of the Giffen-DeMatteis-Maguire run on JLA Classified. Marvel actually has a pretty good week, what with the always excellent Runaways, Dan Slott’s delightful Spider-Man/Human Torch, and the insufficiently homoerotic but otherwise entertaining Young Avengers on the way.

Hm. That’s quite a bit.

I did some manga shopping over the weekend at the newish Big Chain Bookstore in town, and picked up Yotsuba&! (cute, in spite of the typesetting mishap that seems to have taken place with the title… kidding!) and Eyeshield 21 (haven’t had a chance to read it yet). There seems to be something weird in the air at Big Chain Bookstores where I buy manga.

Up at one store in Pittsburgh, I waited in line and watched the cashier cheerfully chat about the purchases of the people in line in front of me, congratulating them about their good taste and making recommendations of other books they might like. When I put my stack of manga down, he looked at it, thought for a minute, and said (cheerfully), “People sure do buy a lot of that stuff!” (I felt kind of bad for him, but I was strangely proud that I’d been the one to make him hit the wall in terms of the suggestive sell.)

Then on Saturday, another cashier looked at my purchases and kind of muttered, “Manga, manga, manga,” like nothing in the world was more dispiriting than Japanese comics in translation. Still riding the large coffee I’d had in the cafe, I informed her that I loved the stuff. She quickly changed gears and said she’d read some, just to get an idea of what it was like. Then she listed off some titles that would leave me disspirited, too, if they were my only exposure to manga. I felt her pain when she couldn’t remember the name of “one of those battle things.”

The odd thing was that there was a stack of Shojo Beat on the magazine rack right in front of her register. Speaking of which, I thrash that subject one last time (I promise) in this week’s Flipped.

The Pickytarian has written a fine review of Catwoman 44 (DC), the debut issue for writer Will Pfeifer and artist Pete Woods. I always enjoy reading the Pickytarian’s examinations of visual storytelling, and this is another good example. (I feel like I have a rather limited vocabulary when talking about the visual end of the equation, and I really admire people who handle that well.)

He notes what could be a plot hole in the proceedings, specifically why precisely Selina would even pretend to take Hush up on his offer. There were a couple of other story elements that rubbed me wrong, and since I can’t resist nitpicking, I’ll just toss them out:

• The presence of Hush doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence. My knowledge of the character begins and ends with the story that introduced him, and that didn’t drive me to find out more. Obviously, he’s become some kind of player in the interim, but it’s never made clear what his place is in Gotham City’s hoodlum hierarchy. Knowing that might have made me less curious about why Selina didn’t just roll her eyes and leave.
• I’m not quite clear on why the arrival of two grade-z freaks (“Jet Pack guy” and the Ventriloquist/Scarface) throws Selina for such a loop. She dispatches them with very little effort, and neither seems to have any grand designs for the East End. One is robbing a deli, which isn’t exactly a prelude to a web of criminal intrigue. Their little incursions don’t seem like enough stimuli to fear for the neighborhood’s future, except maybe its dignity.

Still, it isn’t a bad start for a new creative team, and the book looks better than it has in ages. Pfeifer has a nice overall handle on Selina’s moral ambiguity and a nice ear for dialogue. I hope he devotes more time towards creating a real sense of place for the East End and what makes it distinct from the rest of Gotham, which would make Selina’s choices and anxieties clearer.

(Oh, and I’ve noticed in a lot of reviews that this is many readers’ first issue of the book. You really should consider sampling some of the collections from earlier in the run, because Ed Brubaker did fine, fine work. Anything prior to the onset of Paul Gulacy’s jiggly, love-doll pencils is a good choice, particularly if you enjoy the art of Darwyn Cooke and Cameron Stewart. You do, don’t you?)

“In the series, a group of kids discover that their parents are secretly super-villains. To enter the YACB Runaways contest, just email (Dave) a paragraph addressing the topic: If your parents were super-villains, which super-villains would they be, and why? (Please put ‘Runaways Contest’ in your email subject.)”

Deadline is July 1. As Heidi MacDonald noted at The Beat, Runaways digests are burning up the bookstore market. This is a good chance to see what you may have been missing.

I’m really enjoying DC’s latest stab at Legion of Super-Heroes. It’s nice to have a little corner of the DC Universe that’s independent of the line-wide madness that’s making many of their books a bummer and a chore.

Another big part of the book’s allure is the green gentleman referenced above. Throughout the Legion’s long and uneven history, there have always been points when I thought the writer is disproportionately fascinated with one or two characters. In this case, I’m fine with writer Mark Waid’s evident partiality to Brainiac 5, because I share it.

In each issue, it seems like Waid gives Brainiac 5 a fresh new reason to disapprove and criticize. In Legion 7, the target of his crusty wrath is Light Lass (and by extension Star Boy) for treating her potentially awesome powers as a fashion accessory. He could be a profoundly obnoxious presence, but I find him rather refreshing.

Part of it is the way Waid portrays Brainiac’s intelligence not as an on-and-off ability but as a state of being. It reminds me of the way Peter David presented Quicksilver’s speed during his run on X-Factor. It’s a constant, and it creates a natural distance between Brainiac and the people around him in spite of their shared goals and values.

I much prefer him as a point-of-view character than someone more gee-whiz, like Invisible Kid. Since the whole concept has its dodgy points, it’s nice to have a skeptic’s perspective. I think previous writers of various incarnations of the character have erred on the side of martyrdom; he’s been irritable because he feels unappreciated. This time around, Brainiac is dyspeptic because people can’t keep up, which is a lot funnier.

I do wish Waid had given Brainiac a better opposite number than Cosmic Boy. There’s some kick to the leader of a youth movement being just as manipulative and bureaucratic as the society he theoretically rejects. (It’s also amusing to see a less gleaming take on the Legion’s premiere Eagle Scout, but that wouldn’t come across for new readers.) But beyond the irony and novelty, there isn’t much else to say about Cosmic Boy. He’s a fairly unpleasant control freak who might have his reasons for being the way he is, but as yet they aren’t sufficiently clear to balance out the equation.

Still, Waid’s focus on Brainiac has been a real pleasure. He’s done nice work with other characters, and his gradual approach to introducing the cast has been surprisingly successful. But for me, it’s worked even better with Brainiac’s consistent presence on the sidelines, providing pointed, exasperated commentary.