Everybody in Romance Should Have a Job: Cops in Fake

On Votaries, I discuss the importance of jobs in fiction, specifically mystery shows, specifically Blue Bloods. 

Job are important in romance too. 

I especially enjoy the cops in Sanami Matoh's Fake.

Fake is the first yaoi series that I read--if one discounts Descendants of Darkness (which many critics do, placing it in the "too complicated to label" genre).

I believe that I read the first volume through the local library system. Memory being what it is, it is possible that I initially Interlibrary-loaned the first 6 volumes (I know I had to order the 7th from Amazon--I then worked backwards to collect them all). 

I was immediately enchanted. I love police procedurals, for one thing (Blue Bloods, The Closer, Law & Order). The series is also exceptionally well-translated; I'm convinced that the translator, Nan Rymer is also a Law & Order fan. The slang, interoffice grumblings, in-office arguments, use of expletives and contemporary allusions are entirely appropriate to the genre and to Law & Order specifically. The series came out in 1994 and was translated in 2003. I have elsewhere compared Dee to Mike Logan from original Law & Order. Ryo, on the other hand, is the archetypal dreamy hero though he is a sharpshooter par excellence!

Dee in Mike Logan-mode

In some ways, Fake was an entirely appropriate introduction to yaoi: the high jinks, ADHD ongoing action, the entire lack of reality despite the realistic setting: everyone in the police department is completely blithe about Dee and J.J.'s sexuality. Eh, so they're bi and gay; hey, who cares?! FYI: The series is set in the late 1990s, not the distant future.

In some ways, reading Fake first was a little misleading. I had no idea until much later that having Dee and Ryo be tall, obviously masculine, and equally aggressive (cop-wise) was in any way unusual for yaoi, especially yaoi in the late 1990s. Dee is the pursuer while Ryo is the pursued--but again, I didn't realize until much later that their seme/uke roles are quite unlike those in much other yaoi. Dee is always trying to kiss Ryo but there is no non-con, and he accepts Ryo's apparent disinterest with grace and surprising maturity (this is Dee we're talking about). As for Ryo, he isn't a straight man falling in love against his will with another guy. He's a gay man coming to terms with being gay.

I had no idea that any of this was outside-the-box. All I cared about, then and now, was the stories and character development. Each volume has several "cases" from a serial bomber to several serial killers to a couple of drug lords. Each case is well-plotted. There's an overarching plot with a sweet resolution.

The character development is aided, of course, by the fact that the romance takes place in the workplace. The characters have jobs! 

They are cops, so they have cases to discuss (see above), witnesses to interview and protect, clues to track down, fights to end. They also have a blustery Gormley-type boss, a competitive detective who tries to break up their partnership, and--after the station house is blown up--a new office to move into. 

They do all of that while presenting personal character flaws and virtues in a comprehensible context.

The series does end a tad abruptly--though there have been additions. Matoh's art changed slightly later on--I discuss this when I reviewed Until the Full Moon. For now, I will state that Matoh continues to represent for me the powerful enchantment of art-in-motion (see post about Good Manga Art). 

What Makes This Manga Different: Intriguing Secrets

Some manga I buy and then discard. Others I buy and consider keeping ("Wow, that was good!") but ultimately discard as failing to retain my interest the second time around. 

And some I keep, even when the manga seems--on the surface--like many others.

Intriguing Secrets by Rize Shinba may seem standard fare: two young men in high school meet by accident (they run into each other in the hallway, causing paint to get on a teacher's tie, so they are assigned to weed an area outside together--they later buy a cheaper tie for the teacher). 

One used to be a musician but damage to his ears now precludes that activity. The other is an artist. Neither seems to be entirely sure what he thinks of the other. The usual "I'm sure he doesn't feel the same way" doubts occur; the usual fear that the other--Mizue, in this case, the "class clown"--is merely teasing. A rather cute scene occurs when Umehara insists on sewing a button back on Mizue's shirt--poorly but he insists on doing it (see panels below). 

So what makes this story stand out?

1. It is notably free of angst. 

The "startling" revelations are delivered quietly. They aren't meant to cause angst, simply to deepen knowledge. The secrets aren't all that profound--or, at least, while they may be profound to the protagonists, they don't demand intervention or anything more serious.

2. The manga doesn't get too far off track. 

High school love matches are not unlike vampire stories--although the original was one vampire, its descendants all demand a mafia-size small town to accompany the protagonists everywhere. The "scoobies" are very distracting. 

In comparison, although Mizue and Umehara have friends and teachers and classmates, the story isn't about those other people, thank you very much. They don't get in the way of the protagonists.

3. It resolves in a clever way that uses material in the manga. 

Confession is a big deal in Japanese literature. It can exist separate from the plot. In this case, rather like Patrick McGoohan's Columbo plots, the confession takes advantage of the setting and character development. It corresponds to prior actions.

Intriguing Secrets never fails to please.

Collection Review: Yugi Yamada Oeuvre

There are books, movies, video games, artwork that everyone goes to when they've had a bad day or week. For me, those works include Moonstruck, Joe versus the Volcano, The Princess Bride, Bread & Tulips.

With manga, that go-to-place is Yugi Yamada's oeuvre.

It isn't so much that these works are Pollyanna "pick me ups" (All is Right with the World!). Rather, they come from a place of hearty realism (even The Princess Bride). Without being maudlin or even overly optimistic, they carry within them a joie de vivre that results, by its nature, in happy endings.

Yugi Yamada's works often include a full cast of

lovers, friends, cousins, friends of friends--

who fight, play jokes, lend support, and share taxis.

Yugi Yamada's characters are not perfect or in any way less than human. Sometimes they are even angsty and depressed. Their most consistent characterization would probably be . . . ordinary. They fight and tell jokes and get mad and fall in love and get confused. They have friends and babies and neighbors and cats and aspirations. They have normal lives where they don't become movie producers or do become accountants. They plan trips for two which turn into a trip for six because everyone else invited him or herself along. They feel outraged when a best friend is hurt even if they can't do anything about it. They feel outclassed in their chosen profession but keep trying anyway.

They also show up in more than one manga. One of the delightful aspects of Yugi Yamada's work is not only the illustrations, in which people actually look like they have flesh and bones, but the "guest" appearances of characters from other manga. The world feels real, full of people going about their everyday lives, falling in and out of friendships, maintaining relationships, and so on. Naoki, for instance, shows up in a number of manga and Yugi Yamada short stories, both as a main character and as a minor character.

Yugi Yamada's manga short stories were the first I encountered that struck me as fully developed (more than mere premises). Her stories are also the first I encountered which even when unhappy, avoided the sinkhole of despair. Because short stories have to resolve quickly, short story writers too often capitulate (in manga and other mediums) to death, despair, and a lack of resolution.

Yugi Yamada, however, manages to end stories, even if sadly, without implying that the world has also ended. Because often, the world doesn't end. Icarus falls from the sky, and the shepherd keeps plowing his field.

Naoki's story "Glass Sky" and later his part prequel, part sequel story "Wildman Blues" revolve on this idea. He is sad. The loss of his friend was sad. The loss of what-might-have-been (which is underscored by a sense that what-might-have-been might not have gotten better) is sad but not defeating. Life does go on.

Life goes on for the troubled antagonist in Dry Heat as well.

Apple & Honey: His Rose-Colored Life: College Angst and Art

Apple & Honey: His Rose-Colored Life by Hideyoshico is one of my absolute favorite manga volumes. It is quiet and ordinary, being the tale of two boyfriends in college. Their meeting is actually described in a prior volume of short stories Apple & Honey.

The second volume focuses on Natsuki and Komano exclusively (and has some of the funniest single strip stories I've ever read). It details the beginning days of their relationship, leading up and past when they first have sex. It is the ultimate show-don't-tell. The psychology is all through interaction. There is some inner dialog, but it is the inner dialog of the moment, not the inner dialog of reflection and explanation. The author never tells us how to think.

Some readers criticize the volume because one character starts out as ostensibly "straight". I address this criticism in a prior complaint. For now, I'll state that the designation isn't the character's although he doesn't deny it either--when used by the narrator, the label appears to be more wry than absolute.

And it is irrelevant to what the young men are going through. Natsuki's self-effacing and pained comment early on in their relationship, "You were a popular kid, weren't you?" followed by Komano's uncertain response (he was but doesn't want to say so) is so perfect to the age (19/20) and the milieu (a college cafeteria surrounded by their noisy friends), it rings true at every level.

This is slice-of-life taken to the nth degree. Honestly--it makes me happy not to be 20 any more since I can relate too well. But it also impresses me with its profound comprehension of human nature.

* * *

Another odd criticism of this and other manga is "the art is bad because it is incomplete--sketchy."

I have seen quite a lot of manga art that I didn't care for. But the reason had nothing to do with the style being bad. It had everything to do with personal taste.

That is, there are certain styles of art I don't care for--like cubism, for example--but that does not mean that cubism is an inherently bad style. It isn't. I can admire Guernica even if I have zero desire to hang it in my house.

When I read this type of criticism in reviews, I start thinking that Paglia has a point: not training students in art makes them witless. I go on and on a bit more about that here.

A lovely final scene from Apple &

Honey that captures the loneliness of

being uncertain in a couple.

Collection Review: Otomen

Otomen is a delightful series! I own the first book (of 18).

Otomen focuses on the trials and tribulations of high schooler, Asuka Masamune, who has the manliest or manly traits--and looks the part--but is also, secretly, utterly enamored of pretty, cutesy things. He enjoys sewing, making gooey desserts, and quiet strolls along the beach. He is the antithesis of the amusing Tim Taylor.

The conflict arises from his social role versus  his inner self: that is, how society perceives him versus how he really is.

The problem of social perceptions is cleverly done: BIG EVIL MINDLESS SOCIAL ASSUMPTIONS do not cause his problems; rather, tensions arise from the personal assumptions of people whom he adores, likes, and wants to impress. He has to fight to be slowly accepted by a lovable coterie of friends: the girlfriend, who accepts him entirely as he is (and occasionally rescues him); the manga artist, who uses him as fodder for his shojo; the guy who loves flowers; and even the Moe guy who wants passionately to be Mr. Manly himself.

As in all good Japanese shojo, the group expands to include others, including Asuka's so-called rival who is secretly also an otoman, preferring a future of applying make-up to the business dealings of his family.

One of the entirely fun aspects of Japanese manga is the 1950s-like thoughtful struggle against conservative roles. Due to American flexibility and constant change, American plots have to designate blame in order to produce the same struggle--the avant-garde artist rebelling against his fundamentalist, cult parents, for example--and the outcome is often far less harmonious and comprehensive than that found in manga.

Which isn't to say that both conflicts aren't fictionally contrived. Still, it is preferable to read about a sweet boy trying to find his place in life than an angry, rebellious teen telling everybody, "You stink!"

Otomen is about the sweet. 

Why Erotic Isn't Automatically Explicit: Boy Princess Review

One series I collected is the manhwa Boy Princess by Seyoung Kim. It was an unusual series for me to collect because (1) it means I'm reading left to right! (2) I don't much care for the art--everyone, except Jed, the Crown Prince, and the guys with beards, looks feminine in an elongated way that seems specific to Korean manhwa; I have a hard time telling people apart (and I don't usually care for androgynous characters).

Bride of the Water God is a good example

of excellent manhwa art. See elongated

lines from Boy Princess below.

However, I greatly enjoy it. Unlike some other kings-princes-princesses manga, the politics is actually as complicated and layered as politics should be. Far too often in fantasy/sci-fi, the politics is either so simplistic, it makes your brain melt or so complexly muddy, one suspects the writer has no more idea than the reader what is going on. There are exceptions: among American writers, Asimov and Cherryh are excellent at creating complex yet explainable politics.

The other reason I get a kick out of Boy Princess is how entirely non-explicit yet erotic it manages to be. I discuss explicit versus non-explicit art in other places, such as here and here. My overall point is that explicit art is not automatically skanky but that non-explicit art is not automatically lacking in eroticism. Sometimes it is what is unsaid/unshown that matters more than what is said/shown.

The story basically follows the adventures of a teenage (15/16) prince, Nicole (total tangent: in 1990, .006 of American boys were named Nicole), and the prince of a neighboring kingdom, Jed. The premise is, okay, slightly ridiculous: Nicole's sister runs away before the marriage, so the family in desperation sends a disguised Nicole in the rather extreme hope that it's only a marriage-of-form and will give them time to set things right.

And the less ridiculous politics ensue: Jed is not the crown prince but he has the army's loyalty, so although the crown prince moves against him, he has to do it subtly. The crown prince appears to be acting with his mother's backing but likely has his own agenda. And the palace apothecary--who becomes embroiled in everyone's secrets--has HIS own agenda in a major way. And then there are various marriage proposals being suggested or knocked down by various allies and enemies of the two kingdoms.

In the middle of all this, Nicole (rather innocently and desperately) and Jed (wiser and more aware of the possible problems) fall in love.

Nicole remembering being with Jed.

In Volume 3, Nicole runs off to see Jed again (he was temporarily returned to his kingdom). Jed finds him wandering in the forest between their kingdoms and takes measures to hide Nicole's identity. However, he also spends the night with Nicole. They don't have sex. The reader is left with the impression that Jed merely held Nicole--until Nicole returns home and his brothers discover that Jed left a few love bites on Nicole.

The discovery scene is practically a throw-away--a few extra panels that clarify that Jed was restrained but smitten. (Nicole always just does what he wants.) It is highly erotic in a way that a million explicit panels could never achieve. Kudos to the author/illustrator.

Kare First Love: Review

The first two volumes of Kare First Love were a Christmas present with accompanying translations by Eugene. I have since made my way through the remaining volumes (now all available in English).

Kare First Love is classic shojo--classic to the nth degree: Will the couple survive their initial dates? Will they sleep together? Will outsiders--an older, overpowering man and a sneaky, manipulative female ex--undermine their trust in each other? What about estranged family members?

It's soap opera plus yet still more bearable than Ross & Rachel since the couple never breaks up completely. Still, I have to admit that the constant misunderstandings get tiring; I prefer couples who deal with the outside world as a unit (Finder, Yellow, Fake, What Did You Eat Yesterday?) or members of couples who deal with change individually in order to return to/operate successfully within the relationship (Yugi Yamada's oeuvre, Shoko Hidaka's Blue Morning).

Kare First Love leaves me convinced that dating in high school is a generally awful idea--(thank goodness for mellow)--which leaves me feeling that I must have missed the point of the series.

What makes Kare First Love work despite the plethora of classic tropes--or cliches, depending on one's perspective--is the reality of it all. Karin and Kiriya's reactions are real. Their friends' reactions are real. Their parents' reactions are real. And so on. Despite the soap opera additions (like Karin becoming a model or Kiriya's father pressuring him to take over the family business, a typical shojo/yaoi trope), the fears and doubts and questions and concerns are all very true-to-life.

Naturally, there are those splendid declarations of rebellion that litter shojo and John Hughes' films--the moment when the hero and/or heroine stands up to an adult, usually a parent, and declares, "This is who I am!" Such moments wear thin with age--yelling things at people doesn't actually solve anything--but the grown-up form still has power: Elizabeth's controlled confrontation with Lady Catherine de Bourgh, for instance.

Tone-wise, the following high school shojo manga fall into the following categories:

• Hana-Kimi is a romp within an utterly realistic high school milieu using absolutely accurate high school dialog; it is comparable to Buffy (first three seasons).
• Kare First Love is a drama with utterly realistic high school characters who operate mostly outside of high school; it is comparable to a combination of Hughes films and Say Anything.
• Mars is a thriller with high school settings and characters; it is comparable to Heathers and Brick.

Collection Review: H. Rider Haggard Lives Again--Gorgeous Carat

Not all yaoi is the same (for an explanation for why yaoi is not referred to as BL in America, go here). Though generally used to refer to romance, it sometimes crops up in reference to what might best be termed school-yard-relationships or adventure-stories-with-close-guy-pals, a genre that is sometimes labeled shonen-ai.

Gorgeous Carat is closer to shonen-ai than to yaoi. There is no explicit sex or even sex at all between the main characters; in fact, the exact relationship between the two is never completely clarified. They are . . . friends? lovers? companions? slave and owner? mentor (Florian is technically older) and wildcard?

It is irrelevant. Their relationship is so close, they seem to occupy the same space despite being greatly unlike each other in personality and temperament. Ultimately, however, what they do is more important than who they are.

What do they do? Jewel heists! Kidnappings! Rescues from the Eiffel Tower! Trips to the Far East! Escapes! Bondage! Murder mysteries!

The time period is the late 19th/early 20th century. The milieu is high society in Paris with excursions abroad. The tales are rapid-fire action with all the ups and downs and crazy shenanigans that make the series rather more like Scooby-Do (thank goodness) than sappy soap opera. It's fun! It's raucous! Who knows what will happen next?!

You Higuri also created the somewhat darker Cantarella series--about the Borgias. Sometimes, I think Westerners, like myself, forget that European culture/history is as fascinating to others as Eastern culture/history is to them.

Collection Review: Dengeki Daisy

Time for a shojo review!

Kyousuke Motomi's Denjeki Daisy (of which I own one volume out of sixteen) is a natural follow-up to Just Around the Corner since it involves another adult/high-schooler relationship. The age difference is not as great as in other manga (16/17 to 23/24 rather than 17/18 to 27/28). And the adult is a blond-haired custodian/hacker rather than a teacher. Yet the difference in age is a commented-on factor.

Numerous people refer to the male protagonist, Kurosaki, as having a "Lolita complex"--while yet encouraging him to maintain his relationship with high-schooler Teru. Likewise, one of Teru's frenemies is a high schooler engaged to a much older man; the other teens consider this weird, yet the young woman's parents are utterly okay with the situation. The issue is not social stigma but the young woman's personal freedom (and being able to finish school with good grades).

The plot is an extreme variation on Tom Hanks/Meg Ryan's marvelous You've Got Mail, a story about a relationship bound up in both email and face-to-face meetings, where one character doesn't know that the other character knows the first character's identity.

Granted, Dengeki Daisy has WAY more angst what with dead brothers/mentors and computer viruses and investigations and whatnot. But the beginning volumes, at least, take place in everyday life where the characters are occupied with everyday emotions/problems.

The final volumes are downright confusing. I still can't figure out what was supposed to have taken place. Why did the existence of the one character have anything to do with the virus code? Why did they go to the island? If the one character is directly linked to the virus code, why would a physical location even be necessary?

I hate to say this but I didn't get the impression that the ending volumes were confusing as in "you need to read this several times to catch the clues" but confusing as in "I don't think the writer knew how to end this series."

Long manga series depend so much on continuous action/ongoing problems and plots, they sometimes fall to pieces at the end when the mangaka has to tie everything together. Dengeki Daisy could be one.

Or not! If I ever figure it out, I will post again. 

Collection Review: Just Around the Corner and the Student-Teacher Romance in Manga

The teacher-student romance is a common trope in shojo and yaoi manga. Although it has become increasingly stigmatized in American television and literature, it is still alive and well in Japanese manga.

Frankly, the American attitude is bizarre. Not because teacher-student relationships are a good idea.  But because the stigma rests on a proposition that is unsettling in the extreme: namely, that any teenager before the age of 18 is the equivalent of a child.

Statistics from the National Survey of Family Growth indicate distinct differences between 14/15-year-olds and 17-year-olds (16-year-olds occupy an uneasy middle ground). To provide a few examples:

(1) younger teens are far more ambivalent about having sex than 16, 17, and 18-year-olds;
(2) on the other hand, younger teens are more likely to consider getting pregnant a positive event than older teens;
(3) nearly all teens' first sexual encounter is with a partner 1-3 years older than the teen;
(4) the average age for teens to have sex is 17;
(5) older teens are more likely to use contraception during their first sexual encounter--over 50% of all teens use contraception, no matter the age;
(6) teen girls and teen boys who abstain cite religion/morals (culture) rather than worries about STDs as their primary reason--this reason is consistent across the ages;
(7) teens having sex has dropped since 1983, substantially for young men;
(8) teens in general are more likely to believe that it is okay for 18-year-olds to have sex than for 16-year-olds to have sex;
(9) teens' interest in having sex increases by 14% for young women from 14 to 17; for young men, it remains steady across the teens, only decreasing at 18/19-years-old (due, it appears, to worries about college, future jobs, etc.);
(10) types of sex that teens engage in increases with age.

The point: the idea that teens remain little girls and little boys until they turned 18 is stupid and damaging beyond belief. Maturation is more consistent, inevitable, and individual than this perception allows for.

Despite the Edgar R. Burroughs look--

or because of it--I like this cover!

I'm no fan of Twilight but the attitude that "those thoughts" don't belong in a teenage girl's repertoire is ostrich-like in its silliness.

I have always considered teacher-student fantasies a "safe" haven (much like reading vampire literature) for feelings, thoughts, questions, and concerns that American culture is reluctant to address. For me, the "safe haven" wasn't vampires or teachers; it was Orson Scott Card's Wyrms. The female protagonist fights strong sexual urges coming from an outside source--by all means, blame the aliens! But her awareness is natural and relatable--a huge relief to my teenage self.

Japanese fiction (manga/anime) likewise seems both more free and less panicked than much American discourse. Considering that Japanese teens have the lowest pregnancy rate worldwide (and a low abortion rate), the literature cannot be blamed for inflaming their sensibilities. Whatever is being worked out in the literature doesn't translate into actual social problems.

From a literary point of view, of course, the lack of social disintegration doesn't mean that all teacher-student stories are good. Toko Kawai's Just Around the Corner is.

The premise: Kiriya and Yuuya have a chance meeting. Kiriya believes Yuuya is 19 (because he looks that old and because he fails to admit the truth), only to discover he is a 17-year-old high school student when Kiriya begins subbing at Yuuya's high school. Kiriya attempts to end the relationship, then resigns himself to its inevitability. Ultimately, their relationship is discovered and the lovers are separated. Yuuya works hard to get into the university to which Kiriya has transferred, and the lovers are reunited at the end of the manga.

An unpretentious, straightforward tale--not particularly unique except for the non-depressing ending. Its uniqueness comes from the characters' realistic reactions and behaviors. Yuuya thinks he is ready for the change in his relationship with Kiriya--we will date but never go out as a couple, or out at all since then someone would guess we are together--but finds it is more unsettling than he anticipated. Kiriya is amused by Yuuya's occasional attempts to make him jealous rather than angered. However, Kiriya worries that Yuuya is trying too hard to be mature around him--not enjoying his youth.

Kiriya still insists on the proper honorific.

Collection Review: Steal Moon

Coyote's run-in with the "Gentlemen of

Mynah" links back to events in

Blue Sheep Reverie.

Steal Moon by Makoto Tateno (mangaka of Yellow) takes place in the Blue Sheep Reverie universe, a series that should be commended if only for having such a great sci-fi name.

Blue Sheep Reverie revolves on the common sci-fi trope of loosely controlled anarchy. It's post-apocalyptic but not quite as depressing as, say, Canticle of Leibowitz. Cities are controlled by gangs, whose feudal nature makes the cities more like Italian city-states than, say, Chicago in the 1920s (or at least people's image of Chicago in the 1920s). There is a "federal" government but its job is mostly to prevent the occasional violence in one city from spilling over into another.

Steel Lahti is the "king" of one gang; Kai is his lover. Blue Sheep Reverie follows their adventures and relationship; it belongs to high romance and is briefly reviewed here.

Steal Moon is a side story that takes place half-way through book 6 (although Coyote is introduced earlier). It has a more mythological/fantasy tilt than Blue Sheep Reverie (which is basically Hamlet with guns and a proactive prince), specifically Egyptian mythology. The couple is Coyote and Nozomi, a military soldier working undercover and a belligerent streetfighter.

Their relationship is not as credible as some of Tateno's other manga relationships, mostly due to lack of character-building moments. The two-volume set is action-packed, moving from cyberstalking to car chases to political fallout in rapid succession. The characters are memorable, however--one of Tateno's strengths. She knows how to individuate types, which is a seriously under-rated skillset among writers. And the ending is sweetly romantic.

Kai is the character to the right.

One of the most interesting aspects of Steal Moon is something I mention when discussing The Guilty: characters are perceived differently depending on the narrator. In Blue Sheep Reverie, Kai is the narrator--that is, the audience is almost always in Kai's head, following his choices. He comes across as contemplative and conflicted. He eventually replaces his internal doubts with absolute devotion, yet his is the type of devotion based on independent choice--he isn't the obedient follower; he is the "I will back you in my own way" follower.

Although he is the same character in Steal Moon and embodies the same traits, Steal Moon's narrator--the impetuous, in-one's-face Nozomi--notices the patient, contemplative part of Kai's nature more than anything else. (Interestingly enough, Steal Moon was written after Blue Sheep Reverie, Volume 1 even though it takes place later in BSR's chronology--Kai remained consistent throughout Tateno's creative process.)

To put this another way, as with many manga and light novel characters, Kai doesn't realize how self-contained he seems from the outside. In Steal Moon, we get to see the Kai who keeps his own counsel rather than the guy who worries a lot. Same guy. Different perspective.

Collection Review: Until the Full Moon

Until the Full Moon and @ the Full Moon take me back to Sanami Matoh (Fake). I read them because of Fake. Matoh has also written a number of fantasy manga full of high jinks and ADHD characters. These latter manga are cute but rather too frantic for my tastes. Fake has its own moments of over-the-top antics and scenarios, but it is grounded in the "case" structure. There are also plenty of reflective moments in Fake, especially for the series' couple.

Until the Full Moon and its sequel @ the Full Moon fall between Fake and Matoh's more high energy manga. The premise is delightful (and common to Japanese manga): a character, Marlo, is male except during the full moon when he becomes female. His change makes it possible for his family to marry him to his childhood friend, David, who is totally fine with the whole wacky world of Marlo (and happens to love both male and female Marlo equally although the ostensibly shojo manga is quite coy about the sexual relationship between them and implies at the end that Marlo will now be female most of the time and only male during the full moon, which will make having a baby possible since Marlo can hide during the full moon to stay female).

The manga is fun, mostly due to Marlo's female persona; although entirely female and downright cute, she is still rather tomboyish. Taken together, she/he is absolutely darling. The first volume has a stronger set of stories and the first set (Until the Full Moon) is better plotted than the second (@ the Full Moon), but both are engaging.

My favorite part is the short story at the end of Volume 1: the fairy tale explanation for Marlo's condition that takes place in a Stephen Sondheim-like past. It's sweetly romantic with a decent pay-off.

@ the Full Moon is fascinating because Matoh's art changes; the top and bottom image are from Until the Full Moon while the middle images are from the later @ the Full Moon. In one of her afterwords, Matoh argues that her art didn't change that much--it was always developing in a single direction. And I think she has a point. But it is noticeably different. I didn't care for the difference at first, not because I didn't like the art itself but because I'm such a huge admirer of Fake, which resembles her older style more than her recent one.

However, Matoh still manages to capture motion, which is a powerful and admirable skill for a mangaka.

Collection Review: Maiden Rose--and Thoughts on Understanding a Genre

Delve into a genre--romance, mystery, country music, possibly even literary fiction--and what appears monolithic from the outside (All fantasy is the same!) appears far more variable from the inside (No, it isn't!).

Not all comic books/graphic novels/manga are the same.

Delving, however, takes effort. It means actually reading (and discarding) different works by different artists within the genre. It means developing an inner criteria or standard about what makes something bad or good. (Teachers should also do this: develop a personal theory or ideology about teaching; I have always enjoyed taking classes from teachers who have developed their own theory/style--even if I disagreed with their ideological perspective--more than from teachers who teach-from-the-book or teach-lesson-plans-developed-by-someone-else.)

I mentioned in a previous post that delving with yaoi is somewhat more difficult than with shojo--simply because yaoi is less accessible. When I started my research, I ordered three yaoi books through Amazon: A Gentleman's Kiss, But You're My Teacher, and Maiden Rose.

At this point, I was batting 1 out of 3.

The short story collection, But You're My Teacher, falls into the category that I discuss in my posts about manga short stories: Only a Premise. It is basically porn and reminded me of the endlessly amusing Provenza quote from The Closer:

Do you know why I hate porn? Guy delivers a pizza, it never gets eaten. Girl's refrigerator breaks, it never gets fixed.

Gentleman's Kiss was my introduction to Ken-doll art and to the problem of a couple that I was given absolutely no reasons to believe should be together. It was my introduction to the problem of relying on stereotypes (rather than archetypes) to sell the characters.

Maiden Rose was--and continues to be--in a class to itself.

The soft sigh or silence before

chaos descends is well-captured

in Maiden Rose.

Maiden Rose was also confirmation that explicitness does not automatically equate to erotica. Neither does it automatically equate to porn.

Maiden Rose is quite remarkably explicit, so much so that I artistically censored it for my own peace of mind (something I have never bothered to do with Black Sun). But it isn't porn. I attempt to tackle why in other posts. Suffice it to say here, the use of sex in any type of fiction to further that fiction's plot is only as salacious as (1) its tone; (2) its effectiveness.

Maiden Rose is nearly impossible to describe adequately. It belongs to high romance. It also belongs to history, being a thinly veiled exploration of Japanese culture and politics between WWI and WWII. It is also incredibly well-written, having strong, memorable characters (not only the main characters but the supporting cast) and quick, insightful, show-don't-tell dialog. The politics is believable and organic, arising naturally from the series' world. Both volumes are impressively well-translated, being possibly the only contemporary works I've read where the word "equites" is used properly and as a pun.

Ultimately, Maiden Rose is a love story. It's high romance love, so despite the relationship's consummation, there is the same ongoing, heart-aching sense of yearning that one experiences from other slice-of-life artistes, such as Makoto Shinkai (Voices of a Distant Star, Garden of Words) and Hayao Miyazaki.

Which brings me to my final point: the art of Maiden Rose is the most impressive out of all the manga I read. The series is in a class of its own.

Collection Review: Mars

Like Anne and Gilbert, Rei and Kira meet with a hair tug.

Like Hana-Kimi, Mars by Fuyumi Soryo is one my earliest shojo reads. Mars introduced me to my first delinquent Japanese character (who also happens to have lived in L.A. and speaks perfect colloquial English), Rei. He gets poor grades and doesn't care, yet works several jobs, lives by himself, and has a passion: motorcycle racing.

He also happens to have an exceedingly rich father from whom he became estranged when his twin brother committed suicide; the twins, by the way, are actually the children of their father's brother, and presumably this discovery led to the suicide; in actuality, the (dark-side) twin was twisted to begin with.

And so on.

It's another opera--only not quite as light and frothy as Hana-Kimi.

Overall, Mars is quite good. The characters remain consistent. The plot holds together, despite multiple twists and turns. Kira, the main female character, is a soft-spoken introverted artist with a steel core who manages to identify Rei's vulnerability and offer him as much protection as he offers her. As a teenagers-falling-in-love-against-all-odds tale, it is surprisingly realistic in the real-life obstacles that it places in the protagonists' ways and the compromises that the characters must make, so they can avoid Romeo and Juliet's fate. Giving up is the ultimate cope-out, a sentiment I agree with.

And the solutions take political savvy. Mars was my first introduction to the use of shame to bring people into line, namely Kira's stepfather.

And the art is gorgeous!

Like with Hana-Kimi, I own a single volume of Mars, volume 9 (also like Hana-Kimi, a local library owns the set). Oddly enough, when I first read Mars, it seemed very Western to me. Now that I am more familiar with manga tropes, it comes across as more shojo than I initially realized. But of course, there's a reason that shojo sells in America: some tropes never die.

As well as Mars, I have also read Soryo's ES (Eternal Sabbath), which is interesting (she again deals with the idea of good and evil "twins") but not quite as captivating as Mars.

Collection Review: Yellow

Goh on the left; Taki on the right.

My last review tackled Fake by Sanami Matoh. Although I didn't read Yellow next, I am reviewing it next since I read Yellow because of Fake.

When I first starting reading yaoi, I had no idea what to read or where to start. (There are many more shojo series in libraries, so it is easier to try-out-discard-and-move-on with shojo than with yaoi.) I ordered a few volumes through Amazon (more on this later). In the meantime, since Yellow was advertised at the end of a Fake volume, I decided to give it a try. Two guys--neither androgynous, however slender--who investigate possible crimes!

That was my introduction to Tateno. I now own several of her series.

Tateno is an interesting mangaka since, like Fumi Yoshinaga, she captures the plot, characterization, and tone necessary to the genre in which she is working: sci-fi, fantasy, contemporary mystery, etc. She also includes strong female characters in her yaoi (I admit to being bemused by yaoi that completely eliminates female characters from the plot-lines).

Yellow is contemporary mystery/suspense. It is in some ways more classic than Fake since Taki is an uke who thinks he is straight. However, Tateno provides him with a complicated psychological reason for being so confused (doesn't he know he is fated to be with Goh?!).

Goh and Taki are not as fleshed out as Ryo and Dee--we never learn, for example, who is better at saving money. But they do fulfill their archetypal roles: Goh as the brash romantic; Taki as the troubled philosopher. By the time I read Yellow, I had begun to realize that simply creating distinct manga characters was a feat in itself. I remember who Goh and Taki are. I don't think, "Oh, yeah, it's that manga where there's some guy who really wants another guy and he's handsome and, uh, um, yeah, like that . . . "

The crime stories are not as well-plotted as in Fake--a few resolutions depend entirely on coincidence. But the stories have plots and the dialog is fresh, often reaching classic comedy banter quality.

Tateno's art is not my favorite but I still enjoy it. It is often non-proportional--she uses elongated lines, so people's arms and legs are often far too long for reality. Yet like Matoh, she captures motion and energy. She also has the ability, like Fuyumi Soryo of Mars, to create images that evoke moments and vistas full of yearning.

It is not altogether fair to compare authors/illustrators to each other. In a future review of a Tateno series, I'll discuss her work more specifically. But since I came to Yellow from Fake, a few comparisons to other mangaka seemed appropriate here.

Collection Review 1: Hana-Kimi

I currently have a collection of approximately 100 manga volumes. These posts will provide background (how I came upon a particular manga) and a review of each series or stand-alone volume. I am reviewing them more or less in the order I purchased them (more or less):

Hana-Kimi: Hana-Kimi by Hisaya Nakajo is one of the first shojo series I read. I was helped in part by the local library having the complete set! I don't in fact own the complete set of 23 volumes but only one, which I bought for under a buck at Bullmoose. It's representational.

The series is delightful. The premise: Miyuki pretends to be a boy, so she can attend a boys' school in Japan and meet her idol, Izumi, a high-jumper. A few people learn her secret, including the school's gay doctor, Dr. Umeda. In fact, the idol, Izumi, discovers she is a girl early on (they are roommates) but keeps her secret from others and the fact that he knows the secret from her.

One of my favorite realistic scenes--hey, I learned

English grammar from studying French.

The plots run the gamut from plausible (issues over cheating; the school contest where the "prize" is a bunch of boring pencils) to totally implausible (the local photographer decides to turn Miyuki and her friends into fashion celebrities) to cute to silly to occasionally spooky (there are a few ghost vignettes). The reliable thread is the behavior of the students--they talk and behave like teenagers.

The series is very "G"--but Dr. Umeda being Dr. Umeda

is allowed to ask the risque questions.

Note that he smokes.

Regarding Dr. Umeda, my first reaction was that Nakajo-sensei made him gay to prevent him becoming a love interest. He is almost perfectly suited to be Miyuki's love interest since he is the one she confides in. He is also good-looking, sarcastic, and mildly insulting, making him a typical shojo/yaoi hero. And his age isn't a problem. Shojo/yaoi romances often have up to a 15-year age difference between the protagonists.

Keeping Dr. Umeda a confidant may be one reason for identifying him as gay but the series is full of operatic farce related to cross-dressing plus gender and sexual identify confusion, so his frank identification as gay makes sense (characters will occasionally break the fourth wall and inform readers that this is a SHOJO manga, not a yaoi one). I use "operatic" deliberately. The series is rather like one of those operas where men or women fall in love with boys, with boys who are actually girls, and with boys who dress up as girls who dress up as boys.

Forthright, guileless, bleached-blond

soccer-playing Nakatsu is from Osaka.

The relationship between Miyuki and Izumi is the touchstone for everyday reality and commonsense. And since the manga is set in (20th century) contemporary Japan, the food, settings, and references are entirely realistic. I learned a great deal about Japanese culture (which I later verified) from reading Hana-Kimi! For one thing Osaka appears to = Jersey Shore.