Lostphrack

Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection
by Junji Ito, Translation by Jocelyne Allen, “Frankenstein” originally written by Mary Shelley, “Frankenstein” English Adaption by Nick Mamatas.
Viz, 408pp
Rating: Older Teen

Junji Ito has had a presence in the American manga scene for nearly two decades, starting with Viz’s Uzumaki in 2001, which tells the disturbing tale of a town haunted by a shape; and Gyo in 2003, a bizarre tale about an invasion of walking fish. While both series were well received, companies struggled to really market his work in the U.S. Publishers such as Dark Horse and the defunct ComicsOne attempt to bring more of Ito’s work to stateside, with various anthology collections of his works, but each attempt petered out by the third volume leaving fans hungry for more. That all changed in 2013 when Viz re-released Uzumaki and Gyo in affordable hardcover editions. The combination of cheap hardcovers and Junji Ito’s horrific tales turned out to be a hit, and since then Viz has rolled out a new collection of Ito’s work on a near annual basis. Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection, released in 2018 to coincide with the 200th anniversary of Mary Shelley’s original novel, combines Ito’s adaption of “Frankenstein” with several original short stories, including the “Oshikiri” cycle, to create a must have volume for horror fans.

For the most part, Ito’s adaption of “Frankenstein” delivers. Ito does a fantastic job at conveying the monstrousness of both the creature and Frankenstein’s actions. The former is done through a fantastic design which wonderfully conveys death and decay, highlighting the unnaturalness of this rotting, shambling figure speaking, moving, and reasoning in a bizarre mockery of natural life. While the latter is done by deviating from the source material to actually show the construction of the creature, something which is touched upon but not explored in the novel, and certainly wasn’t detailed in the same, graphic, and repulsive manner. While Ito’s decision to deviate here is an incredibly effective choice, latter deviations are not so fortunate. Frankenstein’s attempt to create a partner for the creature goes off into completely new territory with help from a very unlikely source, and it results in a sequence that is half as effective as it should be due to how out of character some of the actions seem. At the same time, the sequence completely removes any moral ambiguity to the creature, something which had long been one of the original work’s most intriguing features, and casts him as a far more inhuman and monstrous figure. As a result, the final twenty pages or so are something of a letdown, especially when compared to the absolutely fantastic build preceding them.

While “Frankenstein” is clearly the centerpiece of this collection, it would be a mistake to write of the rest of the collection as mere filler. The bulk of the non-“Frankenstein” material is made up of six short stories in Ito’s “Oshikiri” cycle; short tales about a young, short, high school boy who lives alone in a massive Western style mansion. While the stories initially seem unconnected, Ito eventually weaves them together to create a rather unsettling haunted house tale. Ito’s art is wonderfully suited for a haunted house story, as his thatching and attention to detail lends the house a nice, lived in, and aged feel. Visual tone is something Ito never seems to have a problem, and these stories emphasize that beautifully. The tall cracked ceilings, flaking wall paint, hallways that are just a little too tall, and a side yard far too narrow, all work to reinforce the feeling of the uncanny that all good haunted house stories have. Unfortunately, it really felt like Ito was just finding his groove with “Oshikiri” when it comes to an end. One can only hope he’ll revisit “Oshikiri” at some point in the future.

While he doesn’t quite stick the landing with “Frankenstein,” the rest of the adaption and the short stories which follow results in Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection being a must read for Junji Ito fans. Further, Viz made a very good decision in packaging Junji Ito’s adaption of Shelley’s novel alongside his original works. This combination allows newcomers, drawn in by the presence of “Frankenstein,” to experience a new take on a classic story while also exposing them to some rather fantastic works which are pure Ito. Minor missteps aside, Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection is a wonderfully chilling read and a fantastic way to introduce newcomers to the work of a modern master of the horror genre.

Frankenstein: Junji Ito Story Collection is available now from Viz.

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card, Vols. 1-3
by Clamp, translated by Kevin Gifford
Kodansha Comics
Rating: Teen (13 +)

Originally published in Japan in 1996, Cardcaptor Sakura used the premise of young Sakura and her friends— Tomoyo, Syaoran, Cerberus, and more—as they sought to capture the magical Clow Cards which were wreaking havoc in their town. While the premise may sound a bit tired and worn, fans and readers of the original series know it was so much more that. In the skillful hands of Clamp, an all woman Japanese art group, Cardcaptor Sakura used a fairly straight forward magical girl premise to launch into an exploration of love and friendship in all their different flavors. Now, two decades later, Clamp returns to continue the adventures of Sakura and company with Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card! Set shortly after the climax of the original series, Clear Card follows Sakura as she enters into a new phase of her life, middle school. With the Clow Cards under wraps, her life was slowly returning to normal, but Sakura’s hard earned peace doesn’t last for long and she soon finds herself faced with new two threats: the mysterious Clear Cards, and the hooded figure seemingly tied to their appearance.

Creating a sequel for a series nearly two decades old may seem like an odd idea. While there is undoubtedly a nostalgia market for the series, there was inevitably a bevy of questions about the sequel. Could Clamp deliver a story interesting and worthy of the original? Would it aimed solely at those who grew up with the original series, or designed to appeal to the new generation of fans? Thankfully, Clamp does a nice job at assuaging any fears old fans may have had, while also presenting a story that should be easily accessible to new readers. A large part of this is due to both the series structure, and a handy four page introduction which recaps the events of the first series, which also acted as a primer for the relationships of the many characters. It makes sliding into Clear Card much easier than one might expect.

Clamp’s decision to put the mystery into the background at first and instead focuses on the relationships, helps bring newcomers up to speed of the status quo, and establishes the emotional core which helps grounds the later supernatural elements. While this does a fantastic job at making it very easy to slide into Clear Card with little to no knowledge of the original Cardcaptor Sakura, it’s a choice that almost comes back to bite Clamp. The heavy focus on the characters and their relationships results in a distinct lack of action or momentum for the story; and the stakes are incredibly muddy and vague throughout much of the first two volumes. By the time the third volume rolls around, even with the a few encounters with the Clear Cards, the series begins to feel like a slightly aimless slice of life story. Clamps’s introduction of emotional stakes comes right in time to hold reader’s attention.

While this lack of drama or tension may sound like a negative, Clamp uses it to turn Clear Card into the manga equivalent of a warm glass of milk. Everything about these three volumes feels like it’s tailored to engender feelings of warmth, comfort and familiarity. The emotional outbursts, declarations of love, and moments of unrestrained joy are devoid of conflict or tension. Everything the character’s do and say come off as incredibly genuine and earnest. Sakura and her friends are so incredibly supportive of each other, that it’s impossible to not break into a goofy grin and let slip a small, quiet, “Awww…” when they offer praise to one another.

Such emotional moments are reinforced by Clamp’s gorgeous artwork with an array of techniques. Under their collective hand, panel borders dissolve, toning effects, cherry blossoms grow out of the gutters and frame declarations of true friendships, and more. These are all done quite a bit, perhaps a little too often, but it all works to emphasize the warm, earnest, fuzzy feelings that pepper Clear Card. None of this is new, and all of it was present in the original series, allowing for a visual and tonal continuity to be maintained despite the intervening decades of experience. This is most evident in all the old hits that make their return. Ornate and beautiful costumes for Sakura designed by Tomoyo? Check. Elaborate, beautiful magical invocations sequences? Check again! This strong adherence to the original formula that made the series a hit may seem like a mistake, but it only furthers the sense that warm glass of milk feeling.

Ultimately, Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card, Vols. 1-3 hits the nostalgia buttons perfectly, and the result is a warm, friendly, and easy going read that is overwhelmingly positive. In a world where such naked emotional displays are sometimes chided or ridiculed, something this genuine and sincere is a surprisingly refreshing read.

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card, Vols. 1-3 are available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copies provided by the publisher.

Guardians of the Louvre
by Jirô Taniguchi, Translation by Kumar Sivasubramanian
NBM Publishing, 136 pps.
Rating: Not Rated

Commissioned by the Louvre as part of The Louvre Collection—a series of graphic novels by various creators based upon the museum and its collection of works—Jirô Taniguchi’s Guardians of the Louvre is the tale of a Japanese artist’s fevered wanderings through the museum as he finds himself reliving moments from the history of the museums and its artwork.

Make no mistake, Guardians of the Louvre is a lovely looking book. Taniguchi’s full color art is absolutely beautiful, and readers will find themselves being transported to the Louvre through it, much in the same way that the protagonist is transported by the works of art he encounters. The warm water colors look amazing, and he does an excellent job at conveying the physicality of the paintings featured throughout the story. The moments when the main character crosses over into the other time periods are quiet and fluid, reinforcing the dream like nature of the proceedings. These quiet, dreamlike moments are the book’s highpoints, with the visit to Van Gough’s countryside standing out as a particularly atmospheric and visual treat. Unfortunately, the artwork and the dreamlike atmosphere it conveys are about the only things that Guardians’ has going for it.

At the heart of Guardians of the Louvre is… nothing? There’s little at stake here, and while the climax attempts to force some emotional response from readers via the introduction of a former lover. Unfortunately, it’s a case of too little, too late. For over one hundred pages readers are treated to Taniguchi’s gorgeous artwork and some interesting historical tidbits, but not much else. Yes, it’s nice to see Taniguchi render the evacuation process of the Louvre on the eve of the Nazi invasion, but the text is presented in such a way that it feels almost encyclopedic—dry and devoid of drama or tension. This leaves Taniguchi’s artwork as the only compelling reason to turn the page.

With gorgeous art and a meandering story, Guardians of the Louvre ultimately feels more than a little pointless. There’s no true story or drama, and the book simply lacks a compelling narrative at its core. Readers simply watch this unnamed Japanese artist wandering from encounter to encounter with no conflict or compelling stakes. As a result, it ends up feeling like an idle daydream; something to be forgotten once you’re through with it.

Guardians of the Louvre is available now from NBM Publishing.

Neo-Parasyte M
by Various Creators, Parasyte created by Hitoshi Iwaaki, Translation by Kevin Steinbach
Kodansha Comics, 288 pps.
Rating: Older Teen (16 +)

Following in the steps of Neo-Parasyte F, Neo-Parasyte M is an anthology of short works set within the world created by Hitoshi Iwaaki in his critically acclaimed sci-fi/horror series, Parasyte. The original series, published in the late 80s/early 90s, told the story of a teenage boy, Shinichi, and the parasitic alien organism which took control of his right hand. The series has had a surprisingly long and successful life, with no less than three different releases in the U.S. and a broadcast spot on Toonami for its anime adaptation back in 2015. Neo Parasyte M presents a smorgasbord of short stories from various creators, all paying homage in their own unique way to Hitoshi Iwaaki’s original series. Among the contributors are several names which should be recognizable to U.S. manga fans, such as Moto Hagio, Hiroki Endo, and Hiro Mashima. The tales range from speculative tales about what could happen next in the world of Parasyte, to sophomoric comedy tales, and beyond!

Like all anthologies, Neo-Parasyte M is a mixed bag. The stories range from eye-rolling-ly bad comedy, such as Peach-Pit’s “Teach Me! Ryoko Tamiya Sensei!”—a comedy strip which exploits the puerile humor incumbent to having a sentient being inhabiting the right hand of a young boy in throws of puberty—to action packed installments speculating on possible futures for the parasytes and mankind, such as Hiroki Endo’s “Edible”—which recalls classic action/sci-fi films like Aliens or The Thing. Among these are a few which really set themselves apart from the rest of the offerings. Among these are the anthology’s opening story by Moto Hagio, “Through Yura’s Gate,” which follows up on one the hanging plot threads from Hitoshi Iwaaki’s original series. Unlike many of the installments in the anthology, Hagio spends quite a bit of time developing the inner lives of the two main characters, which makes the ultimate reveal that much more emotional when it’s time comes. Most of the contributions don’t have the same room to breathe and instead go for a one note joke or intense action scene. One of the later is Ryouji Minagawa’s “Perfect Soldier,” which gives us a glimpse into a possible future where the parasytes find themselves drawn into the wars of humanity. Minagawa does an amazing job at setting up the philosophical core of the story in a short amount of time, while interweaving some really creative and intense action sequences at the same time. The result is one of the collection’s most memorable and enjoyable stories.

Arguably the most remarkable entry in Neo-Parasyte M isn’t from a manga creator at all, but from modeling artist Takayuki Takeya. While the name may not mean much, American fans who follow Japanese pop-culture may have already encountered his work; he was the lead designer on 2016’s Shin Godzilla, in addition to redesigning various Kamen Rider figures for the S.I.C. toy line. Takeya’s tale, “Granny’s Regrets” is one of two full color entries, and is the only photo-comic in the book. Comprised of what appears to be full page photos surrounded by the main character’s internal narration, it presents a disturbing series of images of a parasyte in various stages of transformation before coming to an abrupt and darkly humorous, twist ending. Photo comics rarely seem to make much an impression or generate much interest, and often come across and stiff and lifeless, but Takeya’s modeling of an old woman possessed by a parasyte did an absolutely amazing job at creating some the most disturbing visuals in the franchise to date. The visuals are deeply unsettling and are sure to stick with readers after they’ve put the book down. While one might be reluctant to revisit the short story due to it’s grotesqueness, multiple rereadings should generate a new appreciation for the craft that went into the model’s creation. In the end, not only is it a wonderfully disturbing read, but it’s also a tantalizing glimpse into what a live action Parasyte adaption could look.

In the end, Neo-Parasite M is a worthy successor and companion to Neo-Parasyte F. The stories are interesting explorations, extrapolations, and postulations of what might have been or could have been in the Parasyte universe. While not every story is amazing, there are more than enough hits to make the volume an enjoyable read.

Neo-Parasyte M is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

To Your Eternity, Vols. 1 + 2
by Yoshitoki Oima, translation by Steven LeCroy
Kodansha Comics
Rating: Teen (13 +)

An immortal being wanders through the ages, taking on new shapes and forms, learning and growing, slowly becoming something resembling a human being, but what exactly does that mean? From Yoshitoki Oima, the creator of the critically acclaimed A Slient Voice, comes To Your Eternity, Vols. 1+2.

Yoshitoki Oima uses the Fushi—the name given the shape shifter—to explore ideas of humanity and what it means. She also uses him to suggest identity is not a monolithic inherent aspect of a person. As Fushi interacts with more and more human beings, he slowly begins to take on an agency of his own. However, Yoshitoki Oima also makes it clear that the personality he develops isn’t something that automatically exists within him as a pre-existing, eternal concept. Instead, his personality grows from his taking on the forms and possibly souls, of the people he encounters. His personality is a literal gestalt, comprised of everyone and everything he encounters. Indeed, in the second volume it’s shown that he can actually loose these memories and aspects of his personality, stripping and reducing his concept of self in the process. She’s exploring some rather heady territory and challenging concepts of humanity and our own identity. Are there aspects of ourselves which are eternal, independent, and essential, or are we composed of a mishmash of those we interact with. On a certain level, it’s the old nature vs. nurture argument taken to a fantastic extreme. Being a fantasy manga, however, Oima does suggest that the stakes are higher and more existential than philosophical ponderings, as a literal deus ex machina appears at a key moment with some cryptic remarks about the intent behind Fushi’s existence.

As with A Silent Voice, Oima’s artwork excels at conveying emotion. Facial expressions, body language, and more are all utilized to produce some wonderful and powerfully emotional moments. The first chapter in volume one does an amazing job at depicting the loneliness, pain, and quiet desperation present in its tale. The two page splash towards its conclusion is simple, but heart wrenching. What is perhaps most surprisingly about To Your Eternity, is just how good Oima is at action sequences. The shots she chooses, and the way she utilizes the main character’s abilities result in some wonderfully creative and clever scenes. The detail she puts into the backgrounds and the clothing results in a world that feels like a physical location, something that helps with the rest of the world building the portions of the story which deal with differing cultures, political machinations, and religious beliefs. The different tribes and regions look different, but are similar enough that they feel like they could exist next to each other. As a result of all this, To Your Eternity looks absolutely amazing.

To Your Eternity is off to a fantastic start with these first two volumes. Yoshitoki Oima’s artwork is fantastic, and those who are only familiar with A Silent Voice will be amazed at good she is at crafting and depicting a fantasy, medieval world. It’s a gripping, emotional read and one which becomes doubly amazing considering that it’s only Oima’s second work as a solo creator. If these two volumes are anything to go by, then Yoshitoki Oima has only begun to scratch the surface of what she’s capable of, and that’s very impressive indeed.

To Your Eternity, Vols. 1 + 2 are available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copies provided by the publisher.

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Battle Angel Alita: Deluxe Edition, Vol. 1
by Yukito Kishiro, translated by Stephen Paul.
Kodansha Comics, 430 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16 +)

The dystopian future presented by Yukito Kishiro is both horrific and strangely beautiful. The wealthy and powerful live in a floating city, tethered to the ground, while the rest of humanity literally live off the scraps and refuse they dump onto the land below. The sprawling city of Scrapyard is a cyberpunk favela, where life is rough, violent, and full of bizarre outcasts. Yet it’s also a place of dreams, success stories, and families who will kill to defend their loved ones. In this industrial nightmare landscape ugly desperation and moments of deep kindness intermingle. Into this world comes Alita, who starts off as nothing but a torso, but through the kindness and fatherly affection of Dr. Ido, is given a refurbished cybernetic body. Unfortunately, nothing can be done for her apparent lack of memories, or explain her innate knowledge of a lost martial arts form. With little left to do, she follows in Dr. Ido’s footsteps and becomes a bounty hunter. Originally published in 1990, and long out of print in the United States, Battle Angel Alita: Deluxe Edition, Vol. 1 presents Yukito Kishiro’s classic cyberpunk story in a beautiful, oversized, hardcover edition, with a new translation!

While I have long known about Battle Angel Alita I knew very little about it prior to reading the new Deluxe Edition. So I was not prepared with how bizarrely relevant the world of Alita was to modern day concerns. The basic set up behind Scrapyard and Zalem, with the enormous wealth gap and teaming masses left to fend for themselves while the wealthy live in a (reported) paradise echoes the ever expanding wealth gap which faces the United States and other nations. On a certain level this relevance is due to the universality of the premise. The wealthy exploiting and tossing scraps to the rest of the populace is a concern that stretches back to the Medieval period and, indeed, the cyborg gladiatorial games which lurks throughout the background of this first volume certainly recalls the bread and circus of yore.

Yukito’s focus on the characters rather than the setting plays into comparisons to modern day concerns. Alita, Ido, and Alita’s love interest, Yugo, are all trapped in the impoverished and dead end Scrapyard, doing what they have to make ends meet. Sometimes this means becoming a bounty hunter, sometimes it means engaging in a little black market organ trafficking. While some of these actions are morally questionable, they’re grounded in relatable and understandable motivations. Alita wants to help her improvised family survive and flourish and Yugo seeks a way out of the dog eat dog Scrapyard. Even Ido’s claims of being a bounty hunter solely for the thrill of kill is undercut by his selfless actions towards Alita throughout the book. Even his misguided attempts to guide Alita towards a more “feminine” life style—something Alita flatly rejects in a sequence that must be relatable to anyone who’s ever fought with their parent/child—are rooted in parental concern and belies the heartless image of himself Ido attempts to sell Alita on. Yukito’s decision to focus on the emotional and personal over the political and social grants the story a solid, emotional foundation to support any weirdness that may follow.

The fantastic setting and characters come to life thanks to Yukito’s visuals. While his style does look a bit dated—it’s a style that clearly places it as a peer of works like Appleseed, Akira, and Silent Mobius—it is undeniably gorgeous and his handling of action sequences and creative character designs will hopefully win over those who prefer the more modern stylings. His character designs are wonderfully varied and weird, with a wide variety of body types thanks to the cybernetic aspect. Figures with inhumanely long limbs, half a head, and more populate the ramshackle world of Scrapyard. The level of detail Yukito puts into his backgrounds is perfect. He doesn’t overwhelm the panels or pages with details, but instead provides just enough to help breathe life into the bizarre world. The grimy alleys, improvised housing, and massive lengths of industrial tubing go a long way to making Scrapyard feel like an actual lived in setting. That he also uses the settings to add to the individual fight scenes is also a wonderful touch, with Alita bouncing off walls, floors breaking, and sewers being flooded with refuse at inopportune times.

After reading Battle Angel Alita: Deluxe Edition, Vol. 1 it’s easy to see why Yukito Kishiro’s work gets such heavy praise. It’s a wonderful blend of many different genres with some gorgeous artwork, and lightning fast action scenes that are a joy to watch play out across the oversized pages of this Deluxe Edition. In the end, this first volume is a fantastic read that manages to impress and entertain despite its age and slightly dated visuals.

Battle Angel Alita: Deluxe Edition, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 1
Written and created by Fuse, art by Taiki Kawakami, character designs by Mitz Vah, translated by Stephen Paul
Kodansha Comics, 240 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16 +)

Satoru Mikami’s your typical Japanese office worker whose life is stuck in something of a rut until he becomes the victim of a random stabbing! Instead of the cold embrace of death, however, he awakens to find that he’s been reincarnated in a fantasy world as a ball of slime! With only his own wits and a mysteriously computerized voice to help guide him through his new existence, Mikami must find his way out of the cave he’s trapped in, figure out a way to deal with the dragon who’s living in the cave, and more! Based on the light novel series of the same name comes the manga adaption of That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 1!

Every now and then you come across a manga that isn’t horrible, but isn’t terribly memorable either. It’s a series that is technically fine, but one that also fails to connect with you on any level or leave much of an impression. Based upon this first volume, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime is one of those series. It’s competently made, Taiki Kawakami’s artwork is lovely throughout, and his dragon and wolf designs look appropriately threatening and impressive. He also does an excellent job at making most of the characters unique and individualized enough that they’re instantly recognizable from one another. Of course, he’s helped in part due to the fact that most of the characters who appear in this volume are monsters and talking animals. Unfortunately, that’s about all the positive things that can be said about the book. The characters themselves are incredibly bland and forgettable. The main character’s personality is virtually nonexistent, and he acts less like a person who’s found themselves thrown into a an alternate reality,y and more like someone who’s bored and trying out a new video game. This is actually reinforced throughout the story via the presence of a disembodied, electronic voice which he repeatedly consults for help and advice, along with the presence of titled skills and abilities he can enact and even level up or tweak. While this element adds a hint of intrigue and leaves a large question mark over the proceedings of the first volume, it simply isn’t enough to really engage or intrigue.

Ultimately, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 1 doesn’t come off as terribly challenging or original, and instead feels like comfort food. There are certainly hints of larger and more epic stakes to come, but the first volume failed to make me care enough to really want to find out where everything is going. It’s a warm and fuzzy that’s enjoyable enough, but is too bland and generic to be anything other than forgettable.

That Time I got Reincarnated as a Slime, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Otomo: A Global Tribute to the Mind Behind Akira
by Various Artists, translated by Kevin Steinbach
Kodansha Comics, 160 pp.
Rating: Mature (18 +)

Originally released as part of the Angouleme Interanational Comics Festival Grand Prix, a French comics expo, Otomo: A Global Tribute to the Mind Behind Akira was part of a larger celebration focused around the work of Katsuhiro Otomo and the 35th Anniversary of his groundbreaking work, Akira. Expanded upon for an international release, the edition available from Kodansha Comics includes contribution from over 80 artists from across three continents!

Otomo is essentially a coffee table art book full of wonderful, large, full color artwork from some of comics/manga/etc. brightest talents. While many of these will be new names to American fans, others are internationally acclaimed creators in their own right, arguably on par with Otomo himself. The contributions range from Masamune Shirow to Stan Sakai to Kin Jung Gi and more. For the most part, each tribute follows a fairly standard two page layout, with the left page consisting of a short bio of the artist, complete with published work, and then a large full page piece on the opposing right page. Occasionally this is broken up and varied with a short piece about the artists first encounter with Otomo’s work, or what Otomo’s work means to them, and a few even have thumbnails of other tribute art or an unfinished version of the larger piece. The most enjoyable and interesting entries are those with the little essays on Otomo’s influence as they give readers an idea of the scope of his influence in the global comics scene.

It’s an enjoyable book to flip through, and seeing contributions from some very big names in the manga scene was a real treat. It’s also fascinating to see what works get highlighted by whom and which get overlooked. Akira clearly outweighs his other work when it comes the American and European artists, but some of the Japanese and European contributions highlight works that have never made their way to the U.S., providing tantalizing glimpses into Otomo’s works outside of Akira, Domu and his anime contributions. Sadly, no one seemed to highlight his Cup Ramen work.

Ghost in the Shell README: 1995-2017
by Drillmaster, translated by Kevin Steinbach
Kodansha Comics, 160 pp.
Rating: Mature (18 +)

Released in the lead up to the release of the live action Ghost in the Shell movie, Ghost in the Shell README: 1995-2017 takes a look back at the various anime incarnations of Shirow Masamune’s Ghost in the Shell franchise. In addition, there are two short roundtable style interviews: one featuring Atsuko Tanaka and Maaya Nakamoto, the two Japanese voice actresses who have portrayed Major Motoko Kusanagi over the years, and the other with Mamoru Oshii, Kenji Kamiyama, and Kazuchika Kise, the directors of the various anime adations.

The bulk of the book is made up of chapters focusing on each Ghost in the Shell adaption, with different subsections focusing on story summaries, character designs, and sections highlighting some of the common questions regarding the themes and plots. The visuals are probably the biggest draw, but unfortunately they’re a little lacking. The various character, mechanical, and set designs are engaging and intriguing to look at, and seeing the designs laid out in such a matter of fact fashion can also lead to some new appreciation to the visual themes running through the different adaptions. It’s also worthing noting, that while the material on the anime adaptions are probably the draw, the book actually opens with a chapter about the live action adaption, including some interesting visual comparisons between the movie and the various anime, plus brief tantalizing sections on the decision making process behind what to include and what not to.

While the book offers a nice, little, behind the scenes glimpse into the Ghost in the Shell franchise, it’s also a bit lighter on information that one might hope. All the material presented is interesting and engaging, but there just isn’t enough of it to really make Ghost in the Shell README: 1997-2017 feel like a must have.

Otomo: A Global Tribute to the Mind Behind Akira and Ghost in the Shell: Read Me: 1995-2017 are available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copies provided by the publisher.

Golosseum, Vol. 1
by Yasushi Baba, translated by Kevin Gifford
Kodansha Comics, 194 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16 +)

When Russia discovers a technology that renders people immune to all known forms of weaponry, they undertake a military campaign to expand their holdings throughout Asia. With an immunity to guns, missiles, and CBRN attacks, those who oppose the Russians are forced to resort to hand-to-hand combat! Roided up super soldiers clash with martial arts masters with the fate the world hanging in the balance! From Yasushi Baba comes the bizarre, over the top, political parody, fight manga about international relations filtered through the lens of professional wrestling, Golosseum, Vol. 1!

This was one of the more bizarre reads I’ve come across in recent memory, and I’m not sure what I can say about it that won’t ruin the impact of encountering Golosseum, Vol. 1 in the wild for the first time. Within the first twenty pages it becomes clear just what kind of series this is, as readers are treated to sequences of a young girl breaking the necks of suit clad spies, and a vacationing couple being brutally gunned down, complete with entrance and exit wounds. Those who stick around will be treated to more grotesqueries, ranging from more ultraviolet deaths and action scenes, to Baba’s rendering of ludicrously over the top hyper-muscled and masculine super soldiers.

At this point the parodies and satirical elements of the series feel little more than surface level, though there could be something interesting read into Baba’s decision to make the most dangerous characters in this volume, not the muscular military men, but the young girl instead. It’s certainly difficult to see her dropping Russian super soldiers on their heads with a Burning Hammer—a wrestling move innovated by the legendary Kenta Kobashi—and not feel like Baba is trying to say something about the nature of masculinity and femininity. Likewise, the scene in which Axe Bowgun, a Hulk Hogan stand-in, literally clotheslines the head off of rioting, black, gang members is difficult not to read into. On one level, it just seems like a silly mash up of American cultural references, but then you realize he was deployed by the U.S. government at the behest of its president, Billary Quintone. Suddenly the sequence recalls both the real Hulkster’s unfortunate use of racial epitaphs from a few years ago, and Clinton’s unfortunate comments about super predators in our inner cities, and you’re forced to reconsider that knee-jerk dismissal. On the other hand, like Putinov and his tiger, maybe these scenes present simply because they look absolutely ridiculous and excessive, like everything else in Golosseum, Vol. 1.

While I usually don’t talk much about covers, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the cover for Golosseum, Vol. 1. It’s a wonderful mash up of part movie poster, part wrestling poster, topped off with a color scheme that brings to mind pulpy movie posters of yesteryear. The front cover features Putinov karate chopping a tiger’s head off, alongside images of several other stars and memorable moments. This motif continues to the back cover, complete with movie poster’s credit roll and running time. It’s a really fantastic cover which helps sets the tone for the book’s mixture of ultra violence, pro-wrestling, and low budget, 60s-70s movie weirdness.

While I’m not entirely sure where Baba is taking the story, it’s hard to deny that Golosseum, Vol. 1 is one hell of a compelling spectacle that left me wanting to see more. The mixture of over the top violence and parody results in a series which perfectly embodies the WWE’s old tagline, “Anything can happen…!” more so than anything I’ve read or seen in recent memory. While Baba’s artwork, with it’s overly muscled bodies, and the strong focus of physical violence might be a turn off to some folks, this absolutely should find an audience in the U.S. In fact, if you found yourself lining up to catch the midnight showing of Deadpool 2 this past week, then this the series might just be for you. It’s hilarious, ridiculous, and very, very fun!

Golosseum, Vol. 1 will be available on 5/22 from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Appleseed Alpha
by Iou Kuroda, Appleseed originally created by Shirow Masamune, Part 1 translated Lillian Olsen, Part 2 translated by Stephen Paul
Kodansha Comics, 448 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16 +)

In a post-apocalyptic America, there exists an uneasy equilibrium between the cyborg run NY and a rural community of humans known as the Human Farm. The two communities exist in a stand-off in the search for resources and supplies, but the delicate balance between the two is about to be upended with the arrival of two new players; Deunan Knute and her cybernetic partner, Briearios; and the mysterious force known only as Olympus. From the creator of the award winning Sexy Voice and Robo, Iou Kuroda, comes the latest take on Shirow (Ghost in the Shell) Masumune’s other cyberpunk franchise, Appleseed Alpha!

Tonally, this Appleseed Alpha is a very different beast from Appleseed, and often times it feels closer to the more comedic and blatantly satirical works by Masamune, such as Dominion. The social commentary focuses a bit more on current events and political issues—or at least they can easily be read as such, even for American readers—rather than speculation on the ways in which technology will impact society and big philosophical issues. Instead there’s a surprisingly timely commentary on resources, racism, immigration, and the use of political propaganda. Perhaps because of this shift in focus, action is left out in the cold with only one or two fights or action sequences within the volume, and none of them are particularly amazing or engaging and they lack the frenetic energy and clarity that marked Masamune’s fights in the original series. It’s a smart move on Kuroda’s part, even if they’re sorely missed, as his style lends itself to the goofy and silly rather than detailed action that marks Masamune’s fights.

Indeed, Iou Kuroda’s artwork is in stark contrast to the original Appleseed volumes with the more polished Masamune look to it. The lack of toning and the thick loose lines combine with the heavy thatching to give it a rough, unfinished look. On one hand, this roughness works well with the messy, post-apocalyptic version of New York in which the story is set, and lends a certain charm to some of the more cartoony and goofy looking characters. On the other, at times it also obscures the action and figures, and some panels become a mass of black squiggles that only vaguely suggest a person or place.

This lack of clarity isn’t limited to the artwork, but it also carries over the panel-to-panel flow, which sometimes features weird and sudden shifts in location and action. The word bubble placement doesn’t help matters, and on several occasions it’s unclear who’s speaking. The dialogue doesn’t help clarify things all that much, and there are several bits of dialogue that feel awkward and stilted. It’s difficult to tell whether that’s simply a stylistic quirk of Kuroda’s, a deliberate attempt to convey the weird, post-apocalyptic world and society, or odd translation decisions. It does seem to improve over time, but it’s entirely possible that I simply got used to it after a while.

While Appleseed Alpha has some good things going on, it’s just not enough. While Kuroda’s art works wonderfully with the story in several places, and there is something to be said about its political commentary, it just doesn’t wow. It feels disjointed and a little lifeless, and is ultimately a disappointing and underwhelming addition to the Appleseed franchise.

Appleseed Alpha is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Queen Emeraldas, Vol. 2
by Leiji Matsumoto, translation by Zack Davisson
Kodansha Comics, 432 pp.
Rating: Older Teen (16 +)

Emeraldas’s journey through the endless expanse of space has seen her cross paths with numerous others who traverse the void. Only a few of those individuals have been allowed to set foot upon her ship, The Queen Emeraldas. What has driven her to make her lonely trek through the sea of stars has been a mystery, until now. From the legendary creator, Leiji Matsumoto, comes the final collection of his classic series, Queen Emeraldas, Vol. 2.

Matsumoto’s Queen Emeraldas is a gorgeous and wonderfully atmospheric read. It’s visually beautiful and peppered with full page spreads often depicting The Queen Emeraldas silently making its way through the blackness of space. It may not sound like much, but it’s a simple touch that does an amazing job at conveying the loneliness and isolation of space, something which highlights the loneliness and sadness that permeates Emeraldas’ being throughout the series. On more than one occasion he strings several of these pages together, a choice which encourages prolonged meditation on The Queen Emeraldas as it sails through the silent, black abyss of space; the exterior isolation mirrors the isolation of Emeraldas as the only living thing onboard the vessel. These images work in conjunction with Zack Davisson’s fantastic translation, which is full of lyrical rumination from Emeraldas on the beauty and emptiness of space, to create an elegiac atmosphere that permeates the book.

Throughout her travels in this volume, Emeraldas encounters a wide array of doomed figures, each striving for a seemingly unattainable goal that will grant them the emotional fulfillment they so desperately desire. Their desperation and need is heavily romanticized, and highlights the sense of sadness and grim determination that marks Emeraldas and her own seemingly endless quest. The nature of what she seeks is finally revealed in this volume, though it may be a little underwhelming and not explained as thoroughly as one might hope. Her search is centered on a single individual, and finding that person seems increasingly impossible given the infinite reaches she’s searching. Indeed, by the the final page of the volume one can’t help but feel the utter futility of her journey.

While the atmosphere of the series is absolutely fantastic, those looking for clear resolutions in Queen Emeraldas, Vol. 2 will be sorely disappointed. The series is open ended, though there are suggestions of greater conflicts, relationships, and losses to come, that we never get to see. Oddly enough, the unresolved nature of these mysteries and Emeraldas’ quest seems right at home, and it lends the final pages of the series a sense of forlorn loss that is sure to linger with readers long after they’ve put the volume down.

While Queen Emeraldas may not be too everyone’s liking, thanks to the lack of a resolution, it absolutely is an engaging and enjoyable read. It also deserves another look, as more of Matsumoto’s works are due to be released in the coming months, including Captain Harlock, a character referenced several times throughout the two volumes of Queen Emeraldas. If you’re looking to whet your tongue and get a taste of things to come, or if you find yourself enjoying the upcoming releases but want more of Leiji Matsumoto’s classic works, then Queen Emeraldas is exactly the book for you.

Queen Emeralds, Vol. 2 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Complex Age, Vol. 2
by Yui Sakuma
Translation by Alethea & Athena Nibley
Kodansha Comics, 208 pgs
Rating: Older Teens (16+)

Getting older is never easy, but it can be especially tricky if you’re passionate about something whose primary demographic skews younger. Such is the case for poor Nagisa Kataura, a 26 year old anime fan and cosplayer. Nagisa’s love of cosplay has been something of a secret, a separate life from her day-to-day office job, but all that may change after she bumps into a co-worker outside of a convention while in full cosplay! Yui Sakuma’s engaging look at adulthood, passions, and societal expectations continues in Complex Age, Vol. 2.

The awkwardness of being into something that’s largely been viewed as a youth hobby or youth interest is palpable in Complex Age. The way society tends to view things and the reactions from those who don’t understand a specific hobby can be worrisome and upsetting for many. As someone eyeball deep in various hobbies that often have an age limit attached to them—like say reading manga—reading this series can sometimes be like looking into a mirror. Of course, it’s not the hobby that’s Nagisa’s problem, but her own insecurities about others’ perception of her. A fear which becomes justified when Nagisa’s parents confront her about her hobby.

Yui Sakuma’s done a wonderful job in getting across Nagisa’s emotional attachment to cosplaying, and how it fills a need and a void in life. The camraderie between her and her friends in the cosplay scene is wonderful and reassuring, and stands in stark contrast to the reactions to those outside of it. There’s a strong sense of a deeper appreciation for what each cosplayer is able to bring to the table, beyond just the pretty costumes. Sakuma delves into and explores the ideas of emotional attachment to the characters, and how cosplay allows the individual to explore different aspects of their own personality they may otherwise be repressed or neglected due to societal constraints. It’s a small thing, but it adds intimacy to Nagoya’s relationships and makes it more than just a fun little side hobby. It also makes the unfortunate revelation in this volume all the more upsetting and emotional. When people at Nagoya’s work discover that one of their co-workers is a cosplayer, there’s a sense of violation and objectification that isn’t present in the scenes when the cosplay photo’s are being taken. Of course, the worst of this comes from the male co-workers, something that further emphasizes society’s demands that people—women in particular—conform to certain arbitrary standards, and when they don’t it beats them down for not doing so.

A lot of the emotional impact in Complex Age’s comes from Yui Sakuma’s lovely visuals. She does an amazing job at not only conveying character and emotions through body language and the eyes. She puts this to good use and shows how certain character’s are able to open up and feel more at ease while in cosplay then in certain other situations. Unfortunately, while the figure work and costumes are wonderful, the backgrounds leave something to be desired. Many scenes occur against plain white backgrounds and while it does focus readers on the characters and their facial reactions and body language, it also lends events a certain coldness as well. Something that sometimes saps the emotions from the scene. Arguably, the most memorable moments come with the inclusion of backgrounds that help reinforce the experiences of the characters. A shattering mirror when one woman’s secret is revealed, or the shot of her surrounded by a crowd of shadow-y, mocking forms carry far more impact than an argument that comes later on which takes place against a backdrop of white or grey.

Overall, Complex Age, Vol. 2 is a wonderful and surprisingly emotional read which I desperately need to catch up on. Yui Sakuma is able to convey a level of honesty and genuineness to material that could otherwise seem a bit fan service-y, not just visually but also emotionally. Instead, she gives readers a nuanced look of the ups and downs of being an older participant in a young persons subculture.

Complex Age, Vol. 2 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Attack on Titan: The Anime Guide
Planning and Text by Ryosuke Sakuma and Munehiko Inagaki, Attack on Titan created by Hajime Isayama, Translation by Ko Ransom
Kodansha Comics, 176 pp.
Rating: Teens (16+)

The wait between seasons of Attack on Titan can be rather a killer at times, but with the third season right around the corner, now seems like an opportune time to take a look at Attack on Titan: The Anime Guide! With a focus on the first season of the anime series, guide book is full of character designs, background artwork, story boards, interviews with the Japanese cast and staff of the hit anime series—including an interview with the creator of Attack on Titan, Hajime Isayama, and the director of the anime adaption, Tetsuro Araki—and more!

Attack on Titan: The Anime Guide is a very image heavy book. About half of the volume is given over to full color character artwork, with even minor characters getting a full page to show off their designs. While the character artwork is pretty it doesn’t really seem to be offering anything new or revelatory, just nice clear images of everyone from multiple angles. Perhaps the most frustrating section is the comparison of scenes from the manga, the storyboards, and the finished anime. At first glance this seems like it should be the best part of the book, but the visuals from all three formats are shrunken down and crammed onto a single page. While it is interesting to look at and read about, larger images and a less busy page layout would have really helped things, some discussion about the differences and changes made would have nice as well. Admittedly, some of the creative changes are discussed in the various interviews, they don’t necessarily focus on the sequences highlighted in these single page comparisons.

Other visual highlights include a multi-page feature on the various Attack on Titan merchandise that’s been produced for Japan. It’s a fun section that also illustrates just how much of an impact the series had in Japan, and might leave some fans deeply envious of all the neat little bits of pop-cultural ephemera the franchise has produced. Who wouldn’t like an Attack on Titan branded portable footstool?

The interview section is probably the most the interesting portion of the book, even if they feel a bit light at times. They run the gamut from quick, breezy discussions with voice actors to more detailed interviews with some of the animation staff. The real highlight, and probably the centerpiece of the entire book, is the lengthy and in depth interview with Hajime Isayama and Tetsuo Araki. The discussion between the two digs into some interesting territory, including the creative approach both take in crafting their stories, the adaption process, and aspects of the manga Isayama is unhappy with.

At first glance, Attack on Titan: The Anime Guide might be thought of as nothing more than a collection of pretty pictures, but upon closer inspection there are also some engaging interviews and other fun features. While it is an interesting read, it’s not quite as in depth as it could be, and those looking to really dig into the minutia of the franchise may be a little disappointed. It’s a fun and interesting addition to the Attack on Titan library in the U.S., but one that stops just short of being an absolute must buy.

Attack on Titan: The Anime Guide is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Descending Stories, Vol. 1
Created by Haruko Kumota, Translated by Matt Alt
Kodansha Comics, 160 pp.
Rating: Older Teens (16+)

Yotaro is fresh out prison and determined to turn his life around, and leave his gang member days in the past. To do this, he plans to study the art of rakugo, a traditional form of Japanese comedic storytelling, under one of the art’s great living masters, Yakumo Yurakutei VIII. Unfortunately for Yotaro, Yakumo has never taken on an apprentice, but this fact won’t keep Yotaro from trying. From Haruko Kumota comes Descending Stories, Vol. 1.

Descending Stories is awash in the tensions that come with change. For Yotaro it’s his attempt to change his life, from one of a criminal to a practitioner of an art form he’s come to love. For Yakumo, it’s the change that’s taking place in society which sees the Japanese public drifting away from traditional forms of Japanese entertainment like rakugo in favor of more modern ones. For yet another character, Konatsu, it’s not so much change but her desire for change. As the orphaned daughter of one of Yakumo’s contemporaries, Konatsu has been his ward for a number of years, but the one thing she hasn’t been and won’t be is his apprentice due to rakugo being a traditionally male occupation. Deeply frustrated at her place in the world and her inability to follow her father’s footsteps, Konatsu stews in resentment and loss, unable to be where she wants to be due to tradition. Such things give Descending Stories the potential to be a fantastic and compelling series, but it has one major flaw: Yotaro.

Despite his troubled past, Yotaro is a bland and forgettable figure throughout most of the volume. His personality can be summed up in two words, dumb and overly enthusiastic. These are traits which are probably intended to make him endearing, but they really just make him unlikeable and uninteresting. Instead, the most interesting character in the first volume is Konatsu. Her troubled relationship with Yakumo is engaging, and her struggle and desire to follow in the footsteps of her father is genuinely moving and frustrating at the same time. At one point, the cruel way in which Yakumo shoots down her ambitions made my teeth grind. Her struggle feels real and relatable, and I found myself far more invested in her struggle and story than anything Haruko Kumota was trying to do with Yotaro. His criminal past is the only thing that begins to lend him any sort of personality or characteristic beyond “annoying goofball,” but it rarely plays into things at this point and when it does come up it is too little, too late to make Yotaro an interesting figure.

Admittedly, one of the reasons for my fondness of Konatsu over Yotaru might have something to do with Haruko Kumota’s artwork. The visuals bounce between lovely, and forgettable. Anytime Yotaro is the focus of the page, his exaggerated reactions and mannerism detract from the emotional heft of the scene and the whole thing feels a bit cartoonish. His constant upbeat attitude, goofy grin, and overly emotive facial expressions make him come off like a cartoon character who has been crammed into a very different story. In contrast, Haruko Kumota’s styles seems to tighten up and become more detail focused during the scenes between Yakumo and Konatsu, and he does a particularly good job at conveying their emotions through their eyes. In one particular scene, Yakumo confronts Konatsu about her secret study of her father’s rakugo stories. He literally throws the book of stories in her face, and Kumota imbues Yakumo with an aloof, dismissiveness that is startling. Likewise, the need and hurt that Konatsu feels is clearly evident in the way Kumota renders her eyes. The result is a scene whose dialogue and visuals are crackling with an energy and tension that is lacking throughout most of the book. Another visual highlight comes during one of Yakima’s rakugo performances. In the story, Yakumo takes on the role of a woman, and Haruko Kumota renders the shadows and folds cast by his clothing in such a way that they take on the look and feel of the woman’s long hair tumbling over one of her shoulders. It was a subtle, clever, and did an amazing job at conveying how completely Yakumo vanishes into his performances.

Due to the constant back and forth in both tone and visuals, Descending Stories, Vol. 1 ends up being a very uneven read. Yotaro is too bland and too uninteresting to really get behind. He feels less like the main character, and more like the comic relief sidekick. The combination of the unevenness of the book and the lack of a compelling main character makes for a rather awkward introduction to the story and its world. All in all, this was a less than inspiring first volume.

Descending Stories, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Next week sees the release of the latest installment of the DC/IDW crossover between two of their most iconic franchises, a sequel to the previous big hit 2015-2016 James Tynion and Freddie Williams II collaboration that proved popular enough that it hovered within the Top 25 in Direct Market sales throughout its run and even […]

Virgil
Written by Steve Orlando, Art by J.D. Faith, and Colors by Chris Beckett
Image Comics, 96 pp.
Rating: Mature Readers

Virgil is a corrupt cop, working the mean streets of Jamaica. With his partner and childhood friend, Omar, and the rest of the force, he shakes down the local criminals, pockets the cash and drugs and leads a pretty good life. However, Virgil’s got a secret, his boyfriend Ervan. When his secret is discovered, Omar and his homophobic friends on the force turn on Virgil. Omar leads an attack on Virgil’s home, killing several of his friends, kidnapping Ervan, and leaving Virgil under a pile of corpses on the beach. Only, Virgil wasn’t dead, and now he’s out for revenge. As he tracks down Omar, Virgil must contend with corrupt, homophobic police and the criminals he once harassed. From writer Steve Orlando, and artist J.D. Faith comes the 2015 graphic novel, Virgil, a brutal tale of love and revenge.

I first heard about Virgil on the old Image Comics podcast, The I Word. Created by Image Comics and hosted by one of their editors, the podcast featured interviews with comic creators whose work was being published by Image, and was meant to help promote their books. The episode with Steve Orlando focused on several comics he had coming out at the time, but the title which really stood out was Virgil. The way Orlando described the one shot graphic novel as an attempt to “give the gay community that type of John Shaft, that type of Foxy Brown hero” really stuck with me, and while I regret that it took me nearly a year to get around to giving the comic a look, I’m very glad I did.

With Virgil, Orlando combines his love of exploitation stories with current day issues faced by the LGBT community to create what he calls a “queersploitation” revenge story. The result is a pulpy, violent read that brings to mind movies like Coffy and I Spit on Your Grave, movies which offered similar stories of bloody revenge undertaken by non-traditional action stars.

While the story itself is a fairly straight forward revenge tale, part of what makes Virgil so noteworthy are the elements and issues it touches upon. Much like the best and most memorable exploitation films, Virgil is rooted in actual issues faced by its protagonist due to his identity. In this case that means a gay, black, Jamaican male. The stress and pressure to perform a type of hypermasculinity forces him to hide his homosexuality and to engage in exaggerated public forms of heterosexuality which seem almost comedic. In one scene he and Omar visit a brothel and are shown engaging in hetereosexual acts while in the same room. Afterwards they each boast of the different women they’ve had over the years and their sexual prowess. Artist J.D. Faith depicts the sequence in an appropriately seedy manner. The room’s wallpaper is peeling, the mattresses are threadbare, and the only sound rendered on the page is Omar’s crude sexual monologue. This is almost immediately contrasted by Virgil’s arrival home where is he greeted by Ervan. The couple’s first on page kiss is framed by a halo of light and, over the course of the next several pages, their lovemaking is depicted in the tender, yet frank way which has traditionally been reserved for heterosexual pairings in R-rated movies. Close ups of the lovers’ entwined limbs, their pleasure and passion are clearly displayed upon their faces. Likewise, their dialogue is in stark contrast to Omar’s bravado in the brothel. Instead they gasp out their affection for each other, urging one another on in between exclamations of how much they’ve missed one another. Faith does as good a job at rendering these more intimate and tender moments as he does with the brutal bloodshed that makes up much of the book.

Speaking of that bloodshed, Virgil is not for the squeamish or overly sensitive. The homophobic vitriol spouted by nearly every antagonist who crosses Virgil’s path is bad enough, but the violence that accompanies it is brutal and sudden. Knives and bullets sever limbs, flesh is burned, heads are removed, and skulls caved in aplenty. While the violence is brutal and graphic at times, it never quite spills into stomach turning territory. It’s fast and sudden, but rarely do Orlando and Faith linger on its after affects in any great detail. Instead it takes on the stylized feel of an action movie, with Virgil decapitating thugs and walking away as a warehouse burns behind him, their corpses lit by the orange flames.

The orange of those flames comes courtesy of colorist Chris Beckett. While it’s rare that I take note of the coloring in a comic, unless it is exceptionally bad, Beckett’s work in Virgil is worth mentioning. Not only do the bold, solid colors look good on the page, but there’s something about his color palette gives the book a neon lit feel which fits the grindhouse nature of the book perfectly. Likewise, Beckett’s careful coloring lends the flashback sequences to Virgil and Ervan’s relationship a softness and warmth which contrasts nicely with the hard, bright and colder colors of the present sequences. The intimate moments also serve to give a strong emotional core to Virgil’s violent rampage, making his anger all the more palpable and understandable, deepening reader’s connection and sympathy with a character who’s shown to be a brutal and corrupt police officer.

Thanks in part to Beckett’s coloring, and the book’s subject matter, Virgil is part of the modern revival of the 1980s aesthetic. As a result, it sits in comfortable continuity alongside synthwave revival musical acts like Carpenter Brute, video games like Hotline Miami, and movies like Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, all of which display a similar love of bloody violence and neon tinted revenge.

While Virgil might not be offering anything new in terms of narrative or visual stylings, it does provide comics, and arguably pop culture in general, with something it has long seemed to lack. A homosexual action hero. Its story may be formulaic; after all, how many times have we seen a man fighting against the odds to avenge the loss of his wife or to rescue his damsel in distress? But the fact that it’s a gay, black male doing so for his boyfriend lends it a certain weight, and casts the familiar formula and tropes against societal concepts of masculinity, gender and sexual politics, racial concerns, and more. As a result, the classic revenge tale it presents becomes something new, it becomes the story of a gay male coming out of the closet and claiming his sexuality and identity, and the power that comes with it, in a blood-spattered way.

Virgil is available now from Image Comics.

Ghost in the Shell 1.5 Human-Error Processor: Deluxe Edition
By Shirow Masamune, Translation & English Adaption by Frederik L. Schodt and Toren Smith, Additional Translation by Stephen Paul
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: Mature (18 +)

Released after Ghost in the Shell 2: Man-Machine Interface, Ghost in the Shell 1.5: Human-Error Processor takes place between the the first and second Ghost in the Shell series and represents Shirow’s first, aborted attempt to continue the Ghost in the Shell franchise in manga form. As a result, Ghost in the Shell 1.5 is an unfinished project. It’s essentially a short story collection depicting several different investigations undertaken by a post-Kusanagi Section 9. Togusa and Batou become the main two characters, with several of the other supporting cast being fleshed out a bit here and there over the course of the volume.

While there are hints at tenuous links to Ghost in the Shell 2, this volume is mostly made up of unconnected stories. Maybe if it had continued a larger arc would have developed, but as it is the book feels like a short story compilation made up of different one off cases. Despite this, Ghost in the Shell 1.5 is a fun little read. Without the Major as the main character, Shirow’s able to focus a bit more on the cases and push members of the supporting cast into the spotlight, for better or worse. As a result, it feels more like the Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex anime, and might be the most enjoyable and accessible for fans coming to the manga via that series.

The artwork looks fantastic, Shirow’s does a first rate job with rendering a sci-fi world the feels fully lived in and realized. The backgrounds are dense and give the sense of a populated and bustling city. The amount of detail he crams into every panel is really astonishing at times, and his action sequences are crackling with energy, motion, impact and weight. While nothing in this volume reaches the heights of some of his crazier fight scenes, they’re still engaging and left me wishing he’d given us more in that area.

The Deluxe Edition looks nice and Shirow’s artwork benefits from the larger format. The coloring seems a little bit better than that of the first GitS, but there’s still a vague murkiness to it in places, and the colors don’t seem quite as sharp as they did in earlier, glossy stock, editions. The extras feel a little skimpy, but there is some brief commentary from Shirow in the back matter on the different story arcs, along with a small farewell where he says he has no plans for future Ghost in the Shell stories. This isn’t exactly breaking news, but it’s still a bit of a shame to see in print. At least it ended by his choice rather than through the loss of work via a natural disaster like with the Appleseed franchise.

While Ghost in the Shell 1.5: Human-Error Processor is a solid and enjoyable read, it does feel a bit like Shirow wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with the characters or where he wanted to take them. It’s a solid enough read, and dedicated fans of his or of the Ghost in the Shell franchise will probably want this to complete their collection, but I don’t think it’s one of his essential works.

Ghost in the Shell 1.5 Human-Error Processor: Deluxe Edition is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Princess Jellyfish, Vol. 2
By Akiko Higashimura, Translation by Sarah Alys Lindholm.
Kodansha Comics, 384 pp.
Rating: Teens (16 +)

Tsukimi and Kuranosuke struggle to find a way to keep Amars from being destroyed in the name of urban renewal and development! If that wasn’t bad enough, Tsukimi slowly begins to realize that she’s fallen in love with someone, a thing she never thought possible. Can Tsukimi confront a part of herself she never knew existed, while attempting to save her home? Akiko Higashimura’s brilliant series continues, with Princess Jellyfish, Vol. 2!

This volume sees the firm establishment of a love triangle, as Tsukimi and Kuranosuke both must confront things about themselves they never thought possible. The revelation that may love someone forces them to confront their own self image, and look within for answers to why they feel the way they do and what it means for their sense of self. This introspection is accompanied by some wonderful backstory which goes a long way to understanding both characters and why they are the way they are today. It’s not all deeply emotional and drama filled reading, though, as the other ladies of the Amars and the rest of the supporting cast do quite a bit of heavy lifting in lightening things and keeping it from getting too serious. It’s a delicate tonal balance that Akiko Higashimura pulls off beautifully! She can switch gears from deeply moving personal insight, to goofy antics and over the top comedy seamlessly, and at no point in time does the tonal shift ever feel awkward or intrusive. A lot of this is due to her artwork, which is just cartoony and loose enough to sustain the arrival of the ever emotive and over the top Mayaya.

It’s really Akiko Higashimura’s character work that makes everything work. While the rest of the Amars mostly serve as comedy relief, Tsukimi’s emotional struggle and the odd moments she emerges from her cocoon are what really drive the story. Her reasons for being the way she is make sense and are relatable and she comes across as incredibly sympathetic, just damaged and scared. You cheer for her when she succeeds and moves forward, and cringe and groan when she falls back another two steps.

Visually, Princess Jellyfish continues to delight. Higashimura’s ability to balance tone is evident here as well, as she does an amazing job at letting the more powerful emotional moments and revelations hang in the air, while her comedic timing and visuals are brilliant and executed wonderfully. Her artwork is expressive enough that the brief explosions of insanity, over the top reactions, or goofy moments that would normally elicit groans and eye rolls in other series feel right at home here, and result in some genuine laughs.

With some fantastic comedy and moving emotional moments, Princess Jellyfish, Vol. 2 has the perfect balance of comedy and drama to make it a compelling, emotional, and thoroughly enjoyable read. Akiko Higashimura’s done an amazing job and, much like the first volume, I was left wanting more as soon as I closed the cover!

Princess Jellyfish, Vol. 2 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Cosmic Commandos
By Christopher Eliopoulos
Dial Books for Young Readers/Penguin Young Readers, 192 pp.
Rating: Young Readers (8 – 12)

From Christopher Eliopoulos, the writer of Marvel’s adorable Pet Avengers trilogy, comes the cute, light hearted adventure of twins Justin and Jeremy. When Jeremy finds a magic wish granting ring in his box of cereal, his favorite video game comes to life, but will he be able to defeat it and save the world, or will his frustration at being compared to his brother, Justin, drive an unreconcilable wedge between the two, dooming everyone? Find out, in Christopher Eliopoulos’ Cosmic Commandos!

Jeremy lives in his brother’s shadow. Constantly compared to him, he’s desperate to be his own person and free from the endless barrage of comments like, “Why can’t you be more like Justin?” This comparison causes him to resent and push his brother away, constantly tells Justin to stop looking him. Justin, for his part, is a bookish, friendly, easy going kid, the opposite of the tightly wound Jeremy who spends most of his time complaining, playing games, and wishing he were an only child. The magic ring Jeremy finds briefly frees him from his “stinkish life,” but ultimately forces the two brothers to reconcile and admit their brotherly love for one another to overcome the alien invasion that threatens to the earth.

Eliopoulos does a wonderful job imbuing the story with a sense of energy and fun. Whether it’s the dialogue and the snarky attitude of Jeremy, or the natural friendliness of Justin, the characters all feel distinct, real and and are easily relatable and just fun to watch interact with each other. A lot of this is to due to the cartoonish artwork, which reinforces the lighthearted nature of the story. Eliopoulos does a wonderful job at conveying personality and emotions through everyone’s character designs, whether it’s Jeremy’s initial surliness, or the Smalls’ bullying nature, or the disapproving, authoritative look of a teacher, every one looks fantastic and is wonderfully emotive. You’re able to take one look at a character and come away with a some sense of who they are and what they’re like. It’s all very cute and adorable, and even things like robot squids or bugs are adorable and fun to look at.

Drawing inspiration from his own twin sons, Christopher Eliopoulos has crafted a light hearted and engaging tale of sibling rivalry and the desire to be your own person, while wrapping it in a format and style that makes it appropriate to children of all ages. Cosmic Commandos is an adorable tale of two brothers that’s a delightful and enjoyable read.

Cosmic Commandos is available on 07/04/2017 from Dial Books/Penguin Young Readers Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

That Wolf-Boy is Mine, Vol. 1
By Yoko Nogiri, Translation by Alethea and Athena Nibley.
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: Teens (13 +)

After crossing classmates at her Tokyo school, Komugi finds herself a social pariah. Thankfully, her mom’s leaving town and offers Komugi a choice. Stay in Tokyo, or move to the countryside to live with her father. Komugi takes this opportunity to start over with a blank slate and a chance to make friends at her new school! Unfortunately for her, those friends harbor a secret of the supernatural kind which promise to make her life even far more complicated than it was before. From Yoko Nogiri, comes the romantic drama-comedy, That Wolf-Boy is Mine!

Based upon this first volume, That Wolf-Boy is Mine is a fairly standard reverse harem series. Komugi is a shy girl, hoping to not rock the boat at her new school, and she immediately finds herself surrounded by the four hottest guys there. The big twist is that they’re all supernatural animal spirit critters. There’s a wolf, fox, tanuki, and cat. Of course, no one else in the school knows their secret, so Komugi once more finds herself on the receiving end of jealousy from many of the other girls in school. At the same time, not all of the guys are happy with her knowing their secret. Caught between a rock and a hard place, Komugi attempts to make the best of things and learn more about her new found friends.

There’s not a whole lot going on in this volume. The characters all feel fairly flat and bland. The burgeoning romantic feelings Komugi feels for one of the guys seemingly comes out of nowhere and feels very forced. It reads less like a natural story development, and more like something that was dictated by the plot. By the end of the first volume, nearly all the characters are a blank slate. This isn’t helped by the fact that Yoko Nogiri’s artwork is pretty bland, so everyone looks more than a little alike. Much of the volume takes place against a grey haze of toning patterns or empty backgrounds. This blankness only serves to reinforce the story’s feeling of blandness and forgettability. The four hot guys are generically attractive, and most of the characters have those weirdly long and lanky bodies that often turn up in shojo series. Nogiri’s animals are pretty cute, though.

That Wolf-Boy is Mine, Vol. 1 is pretty unmemorable. The whole thing feels fairly basic and bland, and there’s nothing really notable about it at all. At times it has a vague hint of a larger theme, with Komugi thinking about how she needs to appreciate people and reconnect with her father, but it’s so vague that it comes off as an after thought more than anything else. In the end, this book comes off as a pretty skippable read.

That Wolf-Boy is Mine, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Noragami: Stray Stories
By Adachitoka, Translation by Alethea and Athena Nibley.
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: Older Teens (16 +)

From Adachitoka comes the first spin-off to the hit Noragami series, Noragami: Stray Stories! This single volume contains several short stand alone tales of Yato, Yukine, Hiyori and the rest of the cast. Throughout the volume Yato and co. find themselves sucked into weird, awkward, and downright silly situations. These range from answering a prayer from a suicidal office worker, Yato getting a stalker, and an encounter with a serial killer. Don’t let the set ups fool you, Adachitoka manages to take each one in a surprisingly light and engaging direction, making for a surprisingly enjoyable comedic read!

Free from the constraints of the ongoing saga, Adachitoka uses Noragami: Stray Stories to plop Yato and company into situations that don’t really have a place in the main series. Each tale in the volume feels like they could be taking place between the major story arcs or story beats, with a “normal day at the office” feel to them. While they do usually start from a slightly darker premise, Adachitoka steers each story into the comedic realm through crazy resolutions, bizarre happenstance, goofy coincidence, and similar silly story turns. The aforementioned tale of a office worker kicks things off, and features Yato listening to the man’s story while they both plummet from the top of an office building for a ridiculously long time. Similarly, Yato’s encounter with a serial killer takes a hard left into silly due to Yato’s divine immortality, leading to some hilarious failed murder attempts on the killer’s part. Other stories include Yato’s attempt to join the Seven Gods of Fortune, and his attempt to keep Yukine from filling out a census like survey regarding his job satisfaction.

The strong comedic leanings of the volume readily lend themselves to something I usually despise, namely exaggerated reactions. While this occasionally plagues the main series and can detract from the drama at times, its presence in Stray Stories feels right at home, as everything about the stories is goofy and over the top. That said, it also features Adachitoka’s normally solid and enjoyable stylings, not to mention the clear story telling. The artwork, which always has something of a darker edge to it, seems to lend itself to the black humor of some of these short stories.

Noragami: Stray Stories isn’t a must have and is definitely not a good starting place for folks interested in Noragami, but it is a fun little break from the regular series, and is a surprisingly quick read as well. Long time fans will probably get a kick of these little vignettes, which really feel like a glimpse into the normal day-to-day life of Yato and his companions.

Noragami: Stray Stories is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Sweetness and Lightning, Vols. 1 + 2
By Gido Amagakure, Translation by Adam Lensenmayer
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

Following the death of his wife, and attempting to juggle his teaching job with raising Tsumugi, his daughter, Kohei’s cooking fell off as he relied on pre-packaged meals and take out food. With the help of a student of his, Kotori, that begins to change. Together, the three find happiness and friendship through the art of cooking. From Gido Amagakure comes the heart warming, Sweetness and Lightning, Vols. 1 + 2!

There’s been a spate of food series in recent years, and while they do have an audience, I’m usually not among them. Sweetness and Lightning’s clearly attempting to play upon the readers nostalgia for things like family dinners and cooking at your mothers side. The scenes of Kohei, Kotori and Tsumugi hard at work are amusing and cute at first, but after a while they all begin to feel repetitive and blur together. If you have fond memories of cooking at the side of a beloved relative, this will likely press your buttons and really appeal to you, but if you have no great emotional attachment to food or cooking, it’s hard to imagine how it could hold ones attention.

The only real tension or conflict comes from Kotori’s conflicting emotions towards Kohei. There’s the barest of teases that she might be falling for her teacher, but her own lack of a stable family suggests that she’s simply feeling the love and warmth that comes from being part of a family. It’s also so rarely brought up that it’s easy to forget this thread is even present amongst all the cooking and taste testing sequences.

While Gido Amagakure’s writing oozes warmth and comfort, her art is a bit plain and generic. Lanky arms, lack of backgrounds, and generic character designs all work to render Sweetness and Lightning a visually bland and unmemorable read. Kohei is a fairly typical, vaguely attractive, bespectacled type, while Kotori is an utterly generic school girl with no real remarkable features to her. Only Tsumugi’s design has anything memorable about it, and that’s mostly thanks to Gido’s ability to convey the energy and innocence of a young girl through Tsumugi’s near omnipresent grin and large eyes.

There is an undeniable charm to Sweetness and Lightning. The innocence of Tsumugi, the lack of real conflict, and the barest hint of tension, all combine to make this something of a comfort food for manga readers. There’s a warmth to the series that most other titles lack. That said, it’s also not the kind of that’s going to stick to your ribs once you put it down. It’s nice and enjoyable, but ultimately fairly forgettable.

Sweetness and Lightning, Vols. 1 + 2 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Ravina The Witch
By Junko Mizuno, Translation by C.B. Cebulski, Patrick Macias, and Jason Thompson
Titan Comics, 48 pp.
Rating: Not Rated

From Junko Mizuno, the creator of Little Fluffy Gigolo Pelu and Princess Mermaid, comes her latest work, Ravina the Witch; a short story about a little girl named Ravina, who lives in a garbage dump, and her adventures as she journeys across a fairy tale landscape.

There’s a sense of innocence and play to Ravina the Witch, which gives way to a feeling of female exploitation as the story progresses. All Ravina wants is to be left alone in her dump, to live peacefully with her crow family, but she’s soon dragged from her home and forced into situation she has no real interest in due to the desires of men. Time after time she attempts to flee, only to find herself trapped in another undesirable situation again and again. Throughout most of this, Ravina’s alone, with her only friends being the crows, and a crossdressing farmer she stumbles across. That her only friends are either animals or someone who doesn’t fit into the heteronormative mold doesn’t seem to be a coincidence, as Mizuno is clearly touching upon ideas of female persecution and exploitation—Ravina’s initially forced to become a dominatrix and spends all day beating men for their pleasure—throughout the book.

There’s a dark, cartoonish sensibility to JunkoMizuno’s artwork which draws an easy comparison to the visual stylings of Tim Burton’s works, or the more cutesy goth look of certain Slave Labor Graphics book. Mizuno’s artwork is a bit flatter and two dimensional and almost looks like it could be inspired by stained glass windows. Indeed, there are a few sequences and images in the book that are framed like windows and resemble triptychs. Regardless of who or what Mizuno’s artwork resembles, it is absolutely gorgeous, with each page being crammed full of interesting visual nods, gags and lovely designs.

I have to admit to not having read anything by Junko Mizuno before this, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect from Ravina The Witch. What I got was a delightfully bizarre read, which has a surprising amount of depth to it, despite the adorably weird and deceptively simplistic artwork and story format. At just under fifty pages, it’s a short, quick read, and one that left me wanting to track down some of her other works to find out what I’ve been missing all this time.

Ravina the Witch will be available on 06/06/2017 from Titan Comics. Digital review copy provided by the publisher.

Attack on Titan: Lost Girls, Vol. 1
Written by Hiroshi Seko, Art by Ryosuke Fuji, Attack on Titan originally created by Hajime Isayama, Translation by Ko Ransom
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: OT (16+)

From writer Hiroshi Seko and artist, Ryosuke Fuji, comes the latest Attack on Titan spin off series, Attack on Titan: Lost Girls! This short, two volume series focuses on the women of the franchise, with Annie Leonhart taking center stage in this volume. Annie finds herself dragged into an investigation which takes her to the grimy back alleys of Stohess District in search of the wealthy businessman’s missing daughter.

I wasn’t too sure about this going into it, the Attack on Titan spin off series have been a little hit or miss for me, but by the end I was kind of wishing we could get more detective featuring Annie. Her sullen, bored attitude and fighting skills seem like they’d be perfect for the cynical gumshoe archetype. It’s also an interesting little corner of the world that really hasn’t been dealt with too much in the main series. That said, the story doesn’t really add anything vitally important or revelatory to Annie’s story. It’s interesting and engaging to see her playing detective, but there’s not vital or essential here.

The artwork is fine, but it lacks the grime and lived in feel that makes the main series such a joy to look at. It’s a bit too clean and at times the settings seem a tad too modern. The writing also feels off at times, with bits of more typical shonen-y gags, and panels that verge on chibified characters. The humor feels a bit out of a place, as does the accompanying dialogue. The clean artwork also failed to really convey the mood and atmosphere that this kind of investigation would seem to call for. The crime ridden, run down section of Stohess doesn’t look that different from the rest of it. Aside from having an uncanny number of lazy eyed inhabitants, it looks no different from the rest of Stohess under Ryosuke Fuji’s pen. This is a shame, too, since there is this vague noir-ish feel to the story of blackmail, drug smuggling, and murder.

On a final note, if you’re a newcomer to Attack on Titan and haven’t read the first eight volumes, or haven’t seen the first season of the anime adaption, you’ll probably want to skip this as the first volume contains some rather heavy spoilers for that portion of the series.

While Attack on Titan: Lost Girls, Vol. 1 offers no great insight into Annie, it is a fun little spin-off and an enjoyable read. The art is average and fails to properly convey mood or atmosphere, but at least the action and story telling is clear and easy to follow. The done-in-one nature of Attack on Titan: Lost Girls, Vol. 1, and the short length of the series overall seems like it’d be a decent way to get a quick Attack on Titan fix if the main series release schedule leaves you jonsing.

Attack on Titan: Lost Girls, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Cells at Work!, Vol. 1
by Akane Shimizu, Translation by Yamato Tanaka
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

Creator Akane Shimizu anthropomorphizes the never ending war between the body’s immune system and diseases, viruses, and other sundry infections! The world this biological battle is set in takes the form of a city in which cells are blue collar workers and citizens, while the diseases look like they stepped off the set of Power Rangers or Kamen Rider. Can the various cells fend off allergies, influenza and more? Find out, in Cells at Work!, Vol. 1!

With such fun premise, Cells at Work! should be a blast, and there are some really great moments, and enjoyable action scenes. Akane Shimizu’s got a great sense of humor which comes through in various ways. The most notable of these comes in how the white blood cells are depicted. One moment they look like delivery men in all white jump suits, then a virus crosses their path and they turn into knife wielding maniacs. The blood carnage wrought by the white blood cells often leaves them covered in the blood of their enemies as they brandish their knives with a delightfully psychotic look in their eyes. If you prefer your humor to be in the more cutesy vein, then you’ll probably love the Platelets, who Shimizu depicts as a horde of adorable little children attempting to work together for the body’s betterment.

While Cells at Work! is quite a bit of fun, it’s also a very episodic, plot heavy manga, with little in the way of characterization. Ostensibly the leads are Red Blood Cell and White Blood Cell, but beyond their biological function and one or two traits, Red Blood Cell often gets lost, and White Blood Cell is perhaps over zealous in his violent work, there’s not too much to them. The relationships between the various characters isn’t really developed, and the premise of the series seems like it would be difficult to develop long term or in depth plots and characters.

Akane Shimizu’s artwork is solid, though at the times the action scenes can become difficult to follow. With lots of blood splatter, speed lines and other bits of carnage flying through the panels, they sometimes become nothing but a clutter of lines and splotches. Still, the anthropomorphism of the different cells, body systems, and diseases are all enjoyable and interesting to look at and often have some really nice sight gags tossed in as well. The backgrounds are generally present and actually play an important role in the action, given that certain pathways and areas serve specific functions. This again allows Akane Shimizu to really play around with how a vein, artery, node, or bodily organ is depicted.

Cells at Work!, Vol. 1 was a surprisingly delightful read, but I have to admit that I’m not sure where it could go beyond this episodic format of a virus invading and the various cells fulfilling their roles to battle them off. With the barely there characters, fun fight scenes, and a nice sense of playfulness, it’s a really fun, light read, but not a terribly compelling one.

Cells at Work!, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Fire Force, Vol. 1
by Atsushi Ohkubo, Translation by Alethea Nibley and Athena Nibley
Kodansha Comics, 192 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

Tokyo is beset by a wave of spontaneous human combustion, but the victims don’t just burn to death, they become creatures known as infernal. To combat this threat, Tokyo puts together the Special Fire Force, a group made up of ex-military, fire fighters, and those who have manifested special abilities due to encounters with infernals. Enter Shinra, as a child he lost his mother and brother to a mysterious fire caused by an infernal, but he was left to take the blame. Determined to keep others from losing their families, he becomes the latest recruit to Fire Force Company 8! From Atsushi Ohkubo, the creator of Soul Eater, comes Fire Force, Vol. 1!

Ohkubo wants little time in getting to the action, and mere pages in we’re treated to an infernal manifestation on a crowded train. The action scene is used to introduce us to the main cast and establish the world a bit. Unfortunately the action scenes like this and a later training session are the highlights of the volume. The rest of it is spent introducing a fairly standard cast of characters. You have Shinra, who’s the plucky hero with a tragic past, his aloof and arrogant rival, a goofy girl, a serious and bespectacled pretty boy, and so forth and so on. Admittedly, this is only the first volume, but it doesn’t really do anything to differentiate itself from the sizable pack of shonen series that clog up the shelves. At least not in terms of the story.

Most of what’s notable about this volume is Atsushi Ohkubo’s fantastic visuals. The artwork is amazingly detailed and incredibly immersive. The character designs are eye catching, and the backgrounds are dense, giving the world of Fire Force a nice sense of weight and solidity. The action takes place in locations that feel real, or as real as an action fantasy shonen series can get, rather than white or grey voids. The sense of motion and movement is dynamic, and the action scenes are exciting and fun to watch unfold across the page. The infernals are intensely creepy, they’re essentially walking, flaming corpses, and the charred corpses of the victims help drive home the lethality of what Shinra and his comrades are battling. There’s a sense of danger, not just to the main characters, but to the world around them thanks to Ohkubo’s detailed backgrounds and the bodies of their victims.

Unfortunately, despite its fantastic artwork, Fire Force, Vol. 1 still comes off as a fairly by the numbers shonen action series. The action and designs are lovely, but the characters were so bland and generic that it doesn’t really have anything else going for it beyond the fantastic visuals.

Fire Force, Vol. 1 is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

Ichi-F
by Kazuto Tatsuta, Translation by Stephen Paul
Kodansha Comics, 536 pp.
Rating: T (13+)

March 11, 2011, saw Japan rocked by one of the largest earthquakes of modern history. In the wake of the 9.0 quake, a massive tsunami devastated the region, wiping away entire towns, and leading to multiple meltdowns at the coastal Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Plant. In the wake of that disaster people from around Japan came to the region as part of the clean up effort. Ichi-F is the story of the clean up efforts from one of those workers. In this mammoth 500 +page volume, Kazuto Tatsuta offers readers a peak into the daily life of the blue collar clean up crews and the slow but steady progress the region and its people are making towards recovery.

Ichi-F is not a gussied up tale of tragedy, but a slice of life memoir about the day to day life and activity of the clean up effort which Kazuto Tatsuta took part in over the course of several years. It’s closer to a documentary then anything else, and at times it almost feels like TEPCO or regional propaganda, something the introduction says he’s been accused of. It’s easy to see why too. He expressly states that part of his reason for creating this was to dispel some of the myths and the negative image surrounding the clean up effort. To this end he shows the boring, daily grind, safety measures taken by the workers, and similar mundane, daily life activities. At the same time, though, he doesn’t really shy away from some of the shadier aspects of the effort. He spends quite a bit of time talking about the subcontractor system, and how they lure workers with high priced offers, but then end up offering them significantly less. Several chapters in the early part of the book depict how workers often end up living in the area and go for months without a job, building up debt for the housing and living costs which is paid to their employers, while awaiting the start of their paying job. Similarly, he does touch upon how the people of the area are still unable to return, and even mentions how some of them may not live to ever see the day they can go home. It’s clearly a complicated situation with many sides to it, and Kazuto Tatsuta makes no bone about which side he’s on.

While the technical ins and outs of the process was interesting, it’s not terribly dramatic or thrilling. It’s a very placid read that lacks much in the ways of tension. At times the plant work begins to drag and become repetitive, but Kazuto varies things up by shifting to other aspects of the clean up effort. He touches upon the state of the towns, and how other parts of the region are handling the recovery, giving us tantalizing glimpses into how those who lost their homes are dealing with their new reality. One particular chapter dealt with a temporary home for the elderly, and touched upon how they have been seemingly forgotten in the wake of the disaster as the attention they initially received vanished. These glimpses into other aspects of the clean up and the disaster’s effects are equally fascinating, but don’t feel like they occur often enough or are in depth enough. I found myself wishing he had spent more time talking about these aspects, and less about the regions dairy treats. There are several digressions about hot baths, stores in the area, and the regions food and produce, which at times causes Ichi-F to comes off as a travel brochure for the region.

On its back cover, Ichi-F declares itself to be a memoir created by an amateur artist, and early on this feels like the case. The backgrounds, building, and mechanical details are all very well done and large, splash pages and half page panels help to give a sense of the immensity of the damage done. Large spreads of over grown fields, piles of rubble and abandoned buildings do a wonderful job at conveying the state of the region and the environment he’s working in. These are punctuated by moments of beauty, like a full moon framed by reactor buildings, or the site of wild cows roaming through the streets of an abandoned town. When it comes to depicting the individuals, however, it gets a little shaky. Nearly everyone in the book has the exact same expression on their face, a large, friendly grin that appears in almost ever situation. Meanwhile, early on he experiments with a slightly more cartoony look to the figures, where he almost, but not quite, draws them with large heads and small bodies. It’s a distracting motif that I chalked up to a beginner struggling with anatomy, though he later in the book he admits that it was a stylistic experiment.

It’s almost important to note that the artwork has been retouched and redrawn in places. This is because Ichi-F has been flipped to read left-to-right rather than the right-to-left format that most manga is published in today. The flipping is nicely handled though, and I didn’t notice many clunk transitions, or odd errors that sometimes mark a flipped manga.

Ichi-F is an interesting read, but one that sometimes feels like propaganda or a travel brochure at times. This is clearly deliberate though, as Kazuto Tatsuta makes no bones about wanting to help in the recovery effort, and if he can’t do that by being on site and physically working to improve the conditions of the region, then he’ll do it by encouraging others to visit, buy their food, and to view it in a better light. On one hand, this admirable and a laudable effort. The region suffered one of the worst catastrophes in recent history and anything that can help it and its people recover should be encouraged. That said, it can make for a weird, uneven and mixed read at times. It’s fascinating to see the life of the workers, and the efforts and progress they’re making in recovery, but at times the propaganda like nature of Ichi-F can be distracting and takes away from genuinely emotional and moving moments or points. Overall, though, Kazuto Tatsuta has managed to craft an interesting and unique manga.

Ichi-F is available now from Kodansha Comics. Review copy provided by the publisher.

My Brother’s Husband, Vol. 1
by Gengoroh Tagame, Translation by Anne Ishii
Pantheon Books, 352 pp.
Rating: Not Rated

My Brother’s Husband, Vol. 1 tells the story of Yaichi, a divorced, single parent who works from home as he raises his daughter, Kana. Following the death of his estranged brother, Ryoji, Yaichi finds his life changing as he opens his home to his brother’s widowed husband, Mike. From Gengoroh Tagame comes a thoughtful look at family and prejudice in Japan.

The story provides a very interesting look at Japanese society through Yaichi’s struggle to come to terms with his brother’s sexuality, revealing some of the struggles the Japanese gay community faces at the same time. Through his daughter’s innocence and her interest in learning more about her previously unknown uncle, Yaichi is forced to confront his own internal prejudices and whether or not he had a part in driving his brother away. It’s interesting to see the way Gengoroh Tagame uses Kana to prompt and force Yaichi down this route and to face things he never really considered about himself and how it effected his relationship with his brother. There’s a strong sense of Yaichi slowly shedding off socially ingrained prejudices thanks to Kana and his growing relationship with Mike. Tagame does a wonderful job at allowing this to develop slowly, so that it comes naturally from Yaichi’s own guilt over his strained relationship with his Ryoji. In addition to showing how Yaichi attempts to reconnect with his brother through his relationship with Mike, Tagame also shows how Mike’s presence and his being out about his sexuality effects Yaichi’s family and the way the neighbors react towards them.

One of the most notable things about Tagame’s artwork is just how vastly different it is from nearly anything I’ve seen before. Not necessarily in terms of character designs, or settings, but in terms of the gaze itself. It’s fascinating to see the male body portrayed through the gaze of a gay male creator. Tagame never strays into the realm of pornography, but there’s a sexuality and sensuality to the male bodies that I don’t think many heterosexual comic readers are familiar with. His use of body types is also something rarely seen. Muscular, but not exaggeratedly so. These are no hyper muscled parodies of masculinity, but lovingly drawn, brawny, beefcake.

The interesting visuals don’t stop with the way Tagame depicts the male form. They also include his use of shadows to imply mental and emotional states. Though he’s dead, Ryoji is a constant presence in the story. Sometimes this is purely textual, but on several occasions his presence is felt though reflections, a shadow on the floor, or a brief, suggestion of his form in the corner of a page or panel. He haunts the book and Yaichi in particular.

There’s a softness and warmth to My Brother’s Husband that makes it incredibly easy to get into. At times the message behind the story can be a bit unsubtle, and Yaichi’s personal growth is often punctuated by small realizations that are a bit too on the nose, but there’s a strong sense of heart, honesty and earnestness to the whole thing that makes it charming instead of cheesey. It was difficult to read this volume and not feel like this was a point of view and a perspective that has been sadly lacking, but one that is vital and important in showing the breadth of topics and points of view available in manga.

My Brother’s Husband, Vol. 1 is available now from Pantheon Books. Advanced review copy provided by the publisher.

The world has changed considerably since Heather Has Two Mommies was published to controversy and acclaim in 1989. Here in the US, we’ve seen the legalization of gay marriage, first on the state and then on the federal level. We’ve also witnessed a slow but meaningful change in the way that our judicial system conceptualizes parental rights, as evidenced by a recent decision overturning Alison D. v. Virginia M., a 1991 lawsuit in which the court held that non-biological, non-adoptive parents have no legal standing in custody disputes. Writing in 2016, the New York Court of Appeals declared that “the definition of ‘parent’ established by this Court 25 years ago in Alison D. has become unworkable when applied to increasingly varied familial relationships,” recognizing the degree to which gay and lesbian partnerships had been marginalized by the original ruling.

Our recent presidential election offered a powerful reminder, however, that the initial firestorm over Heather Has Two Mommies was never fully extinguished; no matter how much the law had evolved to reflect shifting cultural attitudes, some Americans still clung tenaciously to the idea that the only legitimate families were headed by a father and a mother. In this moment of uncertainty and pushback, Gengoroh Tagame’s My Brother’s Husband is a welcome arrival in American bookstores, offering younger readers a warm, nuanced portrayal of gay life that challenges the idea that the only families that “count” are based on blood relations.

Tagame’s story focuses on Yaichi and Kana, a single father and his curious, outspoken daughter. Their cosy household is upended by the arrival of Mike Flanagan, a tall, be-muscled Canadian who was married to Yaichi’s identical twin brother Ryoji. In an effort to better understand his late husband, Mike has traveled to Japan to meet Ryoji’s family. Yaichi is initially reluctant to host Mike, but seven-year-old Kana warmly embraces Mike, insisting that he stay with them as an honored family member and bragging to her friends about her “Canadian uncle.”

In the early chapters of the story, Mike represents a direct challenge to Yaichi’s unexamined beliefs about homosexuality. Yaichi is surprised to discover that Mike is a gregarious, thoughtful guest whose deep love of Japanese cuisine, geography and custom grew out of his deep love for Ryoji. Though Yaichi behaves boorishly at first, treating Mike as a nuisance, he gradually realizes that Mike knew Ryoji better than he did, and may be Yaichi’s only chance to understand who Ryoji became in the decade he lived abroad.

As Yaichi and Kana invite Mike to join them in their everyday routines, the trio begins acting more and more like a family, a point underscored by the arrival of Yaichi’s ex-wife Katsuki, who marvels at their closeness. The warmth and humor that informs Kana’s interactions with all three adults demonstrates to younger readers that it’s possible to have an unconventional family structure predicated on love, rather than biology. Older readers will see the respectful dynamic between Yaichi and Katsuki as a testament to how important self-awareness, flexibility, and mutual respect are in forming lasting family units; though Yaichi and Katsuki divorced after Kana’s birth, their affection for one another is evident in their conspiratorial conversations about Kana and Mike — he’s eclipsed both Mommy and Daddy for sheer coolness in Kana’s eyes — and in their candid assessment of whether Kana is lonely without a full-time female role model.

Gengoroh Tagame’s crisp, naturalistic artwork conveys both the small-town setting and characters’ feelings with great specificity. In particular, Tagame does a fine job of emphasizing Mike’s size and appearance, using the scale of Yaichi’s house — the rooms, the tatami mats, the bathtub — to convey just how conspicuous Mike really is in the small village where Yaichi and Kana live. Tagame proves equally adept at using the characters’ body language and facial expressions as a window into their feelings. In one of the story’s most poignant scenes, for example, a drunken Mike mistakes Yaichi for Ryoji, dissolving into tears as he collapses into Yaichi’s arms; it’s the only moment in which the strong, confident Mike seems vulnerable, his posture and face convulsed in grief over losing the husband he cherished. Yaichi’s grimaces, smiles, and gasps likewise reveal his vulnerability, documenting his ambivalent feelings about Mike in particular and homosexuality in general; the dialectical process by which Yaichi comes to embrace Mike as part of his family registers as much on Yaichi’s face as it does in his words and his actions.

Though some of the conflicts are resolved a little too tidily, My Husband’s Brother earns points for its well-rounded characters and frank acknowledgment of Yaichi’s initial discomfort with Mike. That we believe in Yaichi’s transformation from skeptic to ally, and embrace Mike as a complex individual and not a cardboard saint, is proof of Tagame’s ability to tell a nuanced all-ages story that will resonate with readers on both sides of the Pacific. Highly recommended.

A word to parents, teachers, and librarians: My Brother’s Husband is appropriate for readers in middle and high school. Though the subject of Mike’s relationship with Ryoji is discussed at length, the story focuses on Mike’s romantic feelings for Ryoji; the sexual dimension of their relationship is not depicted. The manga earns a PG rating for showing adults taking baths and suffering from hangovers.

Review copy provided by the publisher. My Brother’s Husband will be released on May 2, 2017.

MY BROTHER’S HUSBAND, VOL. 1 • BY GENGOROH TAGAME • PANTHEON BOOKS • NO RATING (SUITABLE FOR READERS 10+)