The Favorites Alphabet: G

Welcome to the Favorites Alphabet, where the Manga Bookshelf battle robot gaze upon our respective manga collections to pick a favorite title (or “titles,” if we really can’t pick just one) from each letter of the alphabet. We’re trying to stick with books that have been licensed and published in English, but we recognize that the alphabet is long, so we’re keeping a little wiggle room in reserve.

“G” is for…

GALS! | Mihona Fujii | CMX – At first glance, this tale of the loves of three “ko-gals” in the streets of downtown Shibuya may seem like nothing but a frothy yet shallow examination of clothes, guys and the longest legs you’ve seen this side of Revolutionary Girl Utena. But if you look deeper, you find a fantastic look at the head of a teenage girl determined to have as much fun as she can in her high school years without making sacrifices to her reputation or cutting corners. Ran Kotobuki is the child of a long line of police officers, and even though she insists she won’t follow in their footsteps, her sense of justice drives her to ensure that Shibuya is a safe haven. Ran’s enthusiasm is infectious, even if it’s often over the top, and the series is a fantastic one for young girls who want to live life to the fullest while still searching for a purpose in that life. (No surprises, Ran ends the series deciding to be a police officer.) – Sean Gaffney

Gatcha Gacha | Yutaka Tachibana | TOKYOPOP – I fell in love with this title from the moment it came out, mostly thanks to the interplay between its four leads. Supposedly a simple shôjo story of a girl who always tends to fall for bad boys and her unlikely friendship with a strong yet damaged classmate, Gatcha Gacha ends up being anything but simple, as you struggle to figure out which lies Motoko is telling are pure fiction and which are merely the truth; who’s still in love with whom; and of course whose attempted relationship will be the most twisted and horrible. Those hoping for typical shôjo romance will likely find this wanting, but for addictive crack with a kudzu plot, kickass heroines, and some great, snappy dialogue, it can’t be beat. – Sean Gaffney

Genshiken | By Kio Shimoku |  Del Rey – The beauty of Genshiken is that the protagonists – a group of college-aged otaku who are members of possibly the least active club in all of manga – are neither repulsive nor saintly. It isn’t about the triumph of the underdog, and it isn’t about the ridicule of the socially maladroit. It’s about people finding their niche and living their lives on a very believable scale. It’s still funny, because Shimoku is honest enough to recognize that his cast’s individual obsessions can reach ridiculous levels. But that’s what otaku are about, and Shimoku doesn’t need to push anything to the point of being grotesque. He gives the reader permission to both like his characters and snicker at their weirder extremes, but the sum effect is fondness. The series also has one of the most restrained renderings of perverse, unlikely, perhaps partially requited love between two people who are simply not meant to be together that I’ve ever seen. And I have no resistance to that. – David Welsh

GoGo Monster | Taiyo Matsumoto | VIZ Media – Every elementary school has a kid like Yuki, a smart, odd student who says things that unsettle classmates and teachers alike. In Yuki’s case, it’s the matter-of-fact way he reports seeing monsters that leads to his social isolation. Newcomer Makoto doesn’t share Yuki’s vision, but he admires Yuki’s nonchalant attitude, and struggles mightily to understand what makes his friend tick. It’s to Taiyo Matsumoto’s credit that we’re never entirely sure what aspects of the story are intended to be real, and which ones might be unfolding in the characters’ heads; Yuki’s monsters remain largely unseen, though their presence is felt throughout the story. Matsumoto’s stark, primitive style suits the material perfectly, inoculating Gogo Monster against the sentimentality that imaginary friends and childhood fears inspire in so many authors. – Katherine Dacey

Gon | Masashi Tanaka | CMX, Kodansha – Ken Haley, my former PopCultureShock colleague, once likened Gon to Dennis the Menace, and I think the comparison is apt. Look past Gon’s teeth and claws, and you’ll see a pint-sized terror who, like Hank Ketcham’s famous creation, loves disrupting the natural order. Of course, Gon’s mischief is of a very different sort than Dennis’, as it involves swimming with sharks, stealing honey from a hive, and eating psychedelic mushrooms (to name just a few of Gon’s wordless exploits). No matter: the results are just as predictable, ruffling feathers (literally) and causing destruction. Masashi Tanaka’s intricate pen-and-ink illustrations make this far-fetched conceit work, infusing the stories with humor and pathos in equal measure. – Katherine Dacey

Goong: The Royal Palace | By Park SoHee | Yen Press – Though there are many fine manga beginning with the letter “G,” here my heart belongs completely to the Korean manhwa, Goong. Set in an alternate version of modern-day Korea with a monarchy still in place, Goong is a teen soap opera to die for, filled with compelling characters, emotionally-charged banter, royal politics, and pretty, pretty costumes. More than all of this, however, and despite a boatload of political machinations and misunderstandings, it features a romantic couple that is truly hindered by nothing more than themselves, and this is my very favorite kind of romance. It’s deliciously complicated, surprisingly funny, and really, truly addictive. I absolutely adore Goong. – Melinda Beasi

Goong: The Royal Palace | By Park SoHee | Yen Press – It’s something of a common theme in sunjeong manhwa to depict a romance between a spunky, common girl and an aloof, rich jerk. The jerk will, of course, be surprised that the girl dares to criticize him, but eventually come to realize that she understands him better than anyone else.  I’ve read that story in various permutations several times now, but it’s at its most compelling in the pages of Goong, in which a regular girl named Chae-Kyung learns that she is engaged to the crown prince of Korea thanks to a pact made between their grandfathers. Neither is happy about the situation at first, and there is lots of bickering, but there are also moments of true connection between them that show their promise as a couple. Throw in some rivals, some political intrigue, and some truly unfortunate comic relief in the form of a pervy eunuch, and you’ve got the ingredients for major soapy goodness!  Bonus points to Yen Press for switching to a two-in-one omnibus format for the series. – Michelle Smith

What starts with “G” in your favorites alphabet?

 

Upcoming 10/12/2011

It’s a kind of weird ComicList this week, and I’m pressed for time, so I’ll just pick three things that either sound awesome or intrigue me in some way:

Cross Game Vol. 5, by Mitsuru Adachi, Viz Media: Digital delivery offered Melinda Beasi an entry point to this great baseball theory, so I think the Manga Bookshelf is now a full-fledged Cross Game Borg. Which is only appropriate, since the series is great.

Black Metal Vol. 2, by Chuck BB and Rick Spears, Oni Press: Man, it has been ages since the first book in this series came out, but I really liked it. Fans of Detroit Metal City and possibly Thor might have fun with it, too.

Veronica Presents: Kevin Keller Issue 3, by Dan Parent, Archie Comics: The insidious gay infiltration of Riverdale continues. Even more alarming, I realize that Archie apparently publishes variant covers. When did that start? Anyway, this is sure to offer more likable stories about nice kids.

What looks good to you?

 

 

Stargazing Dog

I can’t critically address Takashi Murakami’s Stargazing Dog (NBM) without first admitting a bias and then describing some personal circumstances.

I freely recognize that I’m overly sensitive to portrayals of the pet-human relationship in any kind of fiction, and I have a huge number of deal-breaking tropes. For instance, I hate when pets are put at risk to prop up an antagonist and show how very, very evil that person is. I also hate shamelessly manipulative portrayals of the loss of a pet, pushing extremely personal buttons because the storyteller knows that it works.

On the personal front, I’ve lost two dogs this year. In January, our beautiful lady finally succumbed to old age at about 18 years. Over the summer, our boy dog (who will always be our boy dog in spite of the fact that he was about 12 years old) was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, which was one of the more awful surprises we’ve experienced. (On the bright side, we’ve also adopted a sweet, hilarious little dachshund-Chihuahua mix who is a constant source of joy.)

So that’s the head space I was in when I picked up this book, which is about a man who loses pretty much everything but his beloved dog. When I say that, no matter how sad this story becomes, I never felt manipulated and that I was always reassured that Murakami was coming from the best, most genuine place in his storytelling, I think I have a certain level of authority in that opinion. If you’re like me in that you’re extremely wary when it comes to sad pet stories, be reassured in the case of Stargazing Dog.

Murakami’s human protagonist isn’t in a great place. He’s lost his job, he has health problems, his daughter is in the thicket of adolescent bitchery, and his wife has decided it’s all too much and is filing for divorce. The last remaining bright spot in his life is the family dog, Happie, brought home during the daughter’s more benign years but eventually becoming the father’s most loyal and constant companion (and vice versa).

That development represents the kind of astute choices Murakami makes in crafting the narrative. He shows the evolution of the relationship between man and dog, establishing it in incremental, unexpected ways that make it more persuasive in the long run. Murakami also shares the dog’s point of view, but he takes a very restrained approach to that, keeping the animal’s thoughts on a basic level that still manages to be extremely moving.

The pair embarks on an ultimately ill-fated journey that I really can’t bring myself to describe, mostly because I don’t want to spoil anything. But Murakami uses the trip and its individual events to reassert the foundational loyalty of the human-dog relationship to the point that, no matter the sorrow they may encounter, the uplift provided by that bond is what the reader ultimately takes away at the end. That’s kind of a magnificent accomplishment. (There’s also a sequel story, “Sunflower,” which goes to some less benevolent places using the main story as a framing device. It’s fine stuff too, but its effectiveness is entirely dependent on its grounding in Stargazing Dog.)

I love Murakami’s style of illustration. It straddles that line between stylized cartooning and very human vulnerability, not unlike Fumiyo Kouno’s Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms (Last Gasp). I could have done without some bits of awkward copy editing. That’s always the case, but it’s particularly true with a story that just begs to flow effortlessly because it’s so finely crafted. The presentation is attractive overall, though.

This is an extraordinarily lovely comic. It’s sad in the best kind of ways, using sadness to make an extremely worthwhile point about a fine and enduring kind of relationship. Given where my head is on the nature of that bond, it could have been devastating, but I ultimately found it wonderfully reassuring.

 

Cry me a river

I have a review of a beautifully sad comic in the queue, and it got me wondering. What are some of your favorite tear-jerking comics? Which ones push your sad button in the right way?

 

License request day: Barbara

Reading a deranged drama by Osamu Tezuka always makes me want to read another deranged drama by Osamu Tezuka. They’re like peanuts. So the recent arrival of Tezuka’s The Book of Human Insects from Vertical (which is awesome) has triggered this craving and sent me on the hunt for the next possible gekiga license from the God of Manga. Fortunately, there’s one that’s already been published outside of Japan that sounds like it would be an excellent follow-up to Insects.

I’m not sure where Tezuka’s two-volume Barbara originated, other than that Kodansha originally published it, but it’s been released in French by the Akata imprint. Like Insects, it’s about a novelist, but that’s pretty much where the similarities end.

The novelist, Yosuke Mikura, is really popular, and two power brokers want to marry him off to their daughters to raise their own profiles. Little do they know that Mikura is kind of a super freak when it comes to amour, and he finds his own romantic prospect in the form of our titular gamin.

Of course, Barbara has her own baggage. She’s described as a “young hippie alcoholic,” which is more than enough on its own to sell me on the title. Tezuka’s weird blend of sympathy and contempt for counter-culture characters is always riveting to read, and it usually results in a number of mean-spirited giggles, at least wherever I happen to be reading.

Better still, translations indicate that Barbara is kind of a bitch and gives our sex-crazed auteur a run for his money. Insects also left me eager to see another complex, difficult woman character emerge from Tezuka’s pen, and Barbara seems to fit the bill. (If she’d just been an inspiring waif, I’d have probably picked Gringo or something like that.)

Don’t get me wrong. I’d still love to read lots and lots of Tezuka’s general-audience work (Rainbow Parakeet comes to mind), but his whack-job seinen will always jump to the top of my to-read pile.

This brings us to a mini-contest. I happen to have a clean, extra copy of The Book of Human Insects, so here’s the deal: email me at davidpwelsh at yahoo dot com with your choice for a Tezuka license request by midnight Saturday, Oct. 15, and your name will go into the hopper to receive said copy of Insects. If you don’t need a copy but still want to weigh in on your Tezuka wish list, leave a comment! Or do both!

The Favorites Alphabet: F

Welcome to the Favorites Alphabet, where the Manga Bookshelf battle robot gaze upon our respective manga collections to pick a favorite title from each letter of the alphabet, whenever possible and ever fearful of the mournful bitterness of the runners up. We’re trying to stick with books that have been licensed and published in English, but we recognize that the alphabet is long, so we’re keeping a little wiggle room in reserve.

“F” is for…

Firefighter! Daigo of Company M | By Masahito Soda | Viz – On one level, Firefighter! is meat-and-potatoes shônen: it’s got a young, brash lead who wants to be the best at what he does; a rival who excels at pushing the hero’s buttons; and a sexy big sister character whom the hero adores. On another level, however, Firefighter! is a classic procedural, showing us how firemen practice their trade, interact at the house, and respond to conditions at every fire. The series definitely cants more towards shonen tournament manga than procedural; as Jason Thompson observed in Manga: The Complete Guide, Daigo’s company fights more dangerous fires in a week than most firemen will see in an entire career. Still, the series’ brisk pacing and sense of dramatic urgency make it one of the most entertaining titles in VIZ’s vast shônen library, even when the story strains credulity. -Katherine Dacey

Flower of Life | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Digital Manga Publishing – Although it works perfectly well as the amusing story of a forthright (perhaps overly so) teen named Harutaro who has just returned to school after a bout with leukemia, Flower of Life also offers many subtle meditations and musings on the nature of friendship. Seamlessly woven into stories in which a memorable cast of characters enlivens even the most tired manga clichés (school cultural festival, anyone?), these themes imbue the work with insight and depth, just as one would expect from Fumi Yoshinaga. On top of all this goodness, you’ve got Harutaro’s personal journey, where he discovers both an abiding love for manga and the ability to lie. This extraordinary series is not one to be missed. – Michelle Smith

Fruits Basket | By Natsuki Takaya | Tokyopop – This was a tough letter, especially with Fullmetal Alchemist just sitting there, but once again I went with the obvious pick.  Fruits Basket was something I discussed with my friends constantly while it was still coming out, and remains a beloved favorite.  Tohru’s struggles – first to try to bond with the Sohmas, then to try to break their curse, then to resolve her feelings towards Kyo, all wrapped up in a surprisingly deep cover of guilt and self-hatred – are fascinating to watch, and it helps that the side characters are just as fascinating if not more so.  And so much of Fruits Basket is about forgiveness – something the readers sometimes had a lot more trouble with than the characters, especially when it came to Akito.  But in the end, as a manly male who will also happily read First President of Japan and other manly titles, Fruits Basket is my pick as it’s made me cry more than any other manga. – Sean Gaffney

Fullmetal Alchemist | By Hiromu Arakawa | VIZ – Though I’ve often credited Hikaru no Go with getting me into manga, it was Fullmetal Alchemist that guaranteed I’d stay.  With its deeply relatable characters, impressively tight plot, and clean, well-paced storytelling, Fullmetal Alchemist proved to me that my new love for the medium was much more than a fling. Alternately heartbreaking and jubilant without ever feeling strained, Fullmetal Alchemist is a deceptively smooth read, even in its most emotionally and visually-packed moments. I often feel like a broken record when I sing this series’ praises. But the truth is, I just never stop being wowed by Arakawa’s discipline and skill. She makes epic look easy. – Melinda Beasi

Future Lovers | By Saika Kunieda | Deux Press – All of the letters in this alphabet have posed a certain degree of difficulty, but “F” is a positive bloodbath. After serious consideration, I’ve decided to go with the fact that this two-volume series offers something very unique: it’s the gayest yaoi I’ve ever read. In a lot of comics in this category, you’re as likely to encounter issues of sexual orientation as you are concepts of particle physics, so some recognizable context is always welcome. In the case of Future Lovers, that context is layered over a wonderful, messy, evolving romance between two very likable, believable characters. Beyond the tricky issue of their feelings for each other, stalwart Kento and cynical Akira deal with the way their relationship will fall out at work (they teach at the same school) and with their families (particularly Kento’s traditional – but very funny – grandparents). It’s real-world romance, and it just plain works on every level. – David Welsh

What starts with “F” in your Favorites Alphabet?

Upcoming 10/5/2011

It’s a huge week of eagerly anticipated arrivals on the ComicList, so let’s get right to it!

Drawn & Quarterly releases the collection of Kate Beaton’s super-smart, super-funny Hark! A Vagrant strips. I’ve read some of these online, mostly in the context of someone linking to individual strips and rightly noting how super smart and super funny they are, but I’ve resisted reading all of them, because I wanted to hold the book in my hands and enjoy all of these comics in dead-tree form.

NBM delivers Takashi Murakami’s Stargazing Dog, which is about a down-on-his-luck guy who gets through tough times with the help of his loyal canine companion. Early word on this is that it’s lovely but will probably make me cry buckets, so I’ve stocked up on handkerchiefs. Here’s a preview.

If you missed it in hardcover (as I did), Emblem Editions gives you a paperback opportunity to enjoy Scott Chantler’s Two Generals, which portrays World War II through the eyes of average soldiers. Chantler is a marvelous cartoonist, as evidenced by his Northwest Passage from Oni Press, so I’m really excited about this one.

Osamu Tezuka’s The Book of Human Insects (Vertical) reaches comic shops. I reviewed the book last week; it’s excellent, particularly for fans of Tezuka’s unique brand of noir.

Viz is also dumping a ton of new titles on the market, many of which were discussed in the current Manga Bookshelf Pick of the Week and Bookshelf Briefs. Of the series I’ve not yet personally mentioned, I would highlight the fourth volume of Kazue Kato’s increasingly excellent Blue Exorcist and the ninth volume of Yuki Midorikawa’s always lovely Natsume’s Book of Friends. I’m also led to believe, by a reliable source, that Toshiaki Iwashiro’s Psyren becomes a lot better than the first volume would suggest, which is certainly possible; most of the first volume of Blue Exorcist was flat-out awful, and that’s become one of my favorite shônen titles.

But enough about my incipient poverty; what looks good to you?

 

A Zoo in Winter

As gifted and versatile as Jiro Taniguchi is, I do find myself ambivalent about some of his work. I can sometimes find it too cerebral (The Times of Botchan), too burly and stoic (The Ice Wanderer), or even too sentimental (A Distant Neighborhood). I always appreciate his comics, particularly for their flawless draftsmanship, but there can be those nagging reactions to tone that keep me from admiring it without reservation.

A Zoo in Winter, Taniguchi’s latest translated offering from Fanfare/Ponent Mon, ends up being one of his titles that ends up working for me without qualification. It starts out a bit on the stoic side, but it ends up being thoughtfully sentimental in just the right way, at least by my standards.

Taniguchi reveals his early days in the manga industry, working as an assistant to a popular shônen artist. When we first meet him, or at least his avatar, Hamaguchi, he’s working in an unsatisfying job at a textile concern, making deliveries and wondering if he’ll ever get a promised chance at design work. An awkward series of events involving the owner’s daughter leads him from Kyoto to Tokyo, where a high-school friend sets him up with a job in a manga-ka’s studio.

Hamaguchi learns the assistant’s trade on the job, finding the workplace dynamics somewhat trickier than he expected. He’s jealous when a co-worker seems to be on the verge of his professional debut, and he’s quietly alarmed by the news that his superior had his shot at a solo career and went back to supporting someone else’s work. Hamaguchi also hits that wall any cartoonist faces: what kinds of stories does he want to tell?

He also gradually starts taking advantage of life in Tokyo. The studio is sort of a wheel-spoke for the kind of weird, low-grade arty types that congregate in cities. Between Kikuchi, the ne’er-do-well friend of Hamaguchi’s manga-ka boss, and his high-school buddy, Hamaguchi begins to develop something resembling a social life. Those two threads intersect when Kikuchi asks Hamaguchi to hang out with his girlfriend’s sickly sister.

The waif ends up inspiring Hamaguchi merely by expressing an interest in what happens next in one of Hamaguchi’s half-formed stories. His fondness for the girl (and probably the ego boost her admiration provides) prompts Hamaguchi to take his own work more seriously. After a rather clinical starting point, the narrative goes to some shamelessly romantic places, and I’m surprised at how well it works. There are few things quite as clichéd as the sickly inspiring the hale to make the most of their lives, but Taniguchi pulls it off by acknowledging that this is what’s happening but keeping his protagonist sweetly in the dark about what a stereotype he’s executing. It ends up being lovely rather than gooey, though the gooey mien gives it all an extra something. Taniguchi gets to frost his cake and eat it, too.

As a tale of a young artist, A Zoo in Winter is generally understated, which is a blessing. Taniguchi is in his best kind of thoughtful, restrained mode with this material, which results in some very astute observations about the hothouse quality of artists in collaboration. I think that restraint and understatement also give Taniguchi license to tug at the heartstrings a bit more than otherwise might be palatable. It strikes a very nice balance overall, and it’s certainly among my favorites of Taniguchi’s licensed works.

 

Thanks, but no thanks

For this weekend’s random question, what have you read recently that just wasn’t for you, for whatever reason?

For me, I’d have to pick Jiro Matsumoto’s Velveteen & Mandala, though it feels like blasphemy to say that I didn’t enjoy a book from Vertical. Matsumoto is clearly very talented, but this particular brand of comic is just… not for me.

How about you?

 

License request day: Papa Told Me

Much as I’m enjoying The Favorites Alphabet, I do find myself missing the weekly immersion of The Josei Alphabet, so I’ve turned to that category for this week’s bit of begging. Specifically, I’ve turned to Shueisha’s Young You, and I’ve found slice of life.

Nanae Haruno’s Papa Told Me ran for 27 volumes, meaning it was a fixture in Young You for virtually the entire publication history of the magazine. It falls in a sub-category of manga (a single father raising a daughter) that has yielded some books I really enjoy (Bunny Drop and Yotsuba&! from Yen Press come to mind).

Chise, a little girl in elementary school, has lost her mother. She’s being raised by her father, a novelist, who works at home, which allows him to be an attentive parent to his bright and curious daughter. From what I can discern, Haruno focuses on everyday stuff in Chise’s life, events and activities which can be exciting for a kid and sweetly nostalgic for an adult. (The mono  no aware is strong in this one, unless I miss my guess.)

This kind of stuff is basically crack for me, and while the length is daunting, there is precedent for publishers offering a sampler. French house Kana put out three double-sized books that seem to pick highlights from the series, so an English-language house (say, oh, Viz) would just have to acquire the rights to those books. Then, of course, demand would be so high that Viz would have to publish the entire series. And I would get that battle unicorn I’ve always wanted.

The samples on Shueisha’s page look really sweet.