Video: A.D. 1363, the End of Chivalry

Go to: Vimeo, by  Jake Mahaffy (via Cheryl Eddy)

R.I.P. Jack Davis (December 2, 1924 - July 27, 2016)

Tales from the Crypt #31 (image via The Bristol Board)

Tales from the Crypt #32 (image via The Bristol Board)

Tales from the Crypt #40 (image via The Bristol Board)

MAD #2

MAD #6 (image via The Bristol Board)

Yak Yak

Inspector Clouseau (image via The Cabinet of Curiosities)

"King Kong" from Trump Magazine (image via The Bristol Board)

Tributes to the great Jack Davis can be found: here, here, here, here,

More NonSense: Je Suis Charlie

Go to: Medium, by Tom Tomorrow

A small sampling of online reactions from: Heidi MacDonald, miscellaneous cartoonists, Brigid Alverson, Jacob Canfield, Andrew O'Hehir, Ruben Bolling, Tim Kreider, John Stewart, Laura Miller, David Palumbo-Liu, Tim Holder, The Simpsons, Robert and Aline Kominsky-Crumb et al, Brittney Cooper, Zunar, Asghar Bukhari, Noah Berlatsky, Janell Hobson,

Marguerite Dabaie on the challenges faced by Middle Eastern Cartoonists.

Michael Dean and R.C. Harvey reprint an old essay about the controversial Danish cartoons of Muhammad from several years ago.

Jeet Heer on the history of French satire.

Michael Kupperman on his time working as a cartoonist for the New York Times.

Jeff Trexler on defunct satirical magazine The Mascot.

Mona Chalabi on the history of religious intolerance in France.

I myself was initially distressed, angry, and sorrowful over the Charlie Hebdo murders, though I've grown to question the overall merits of efforts to rally around the "Je Suis Charlie" hashtag. This is par for the course in this Social Media age. And it's hard to ignore the cathartic effect is has on a considerable number of people, particularly those in the comics and cartooning community. But such attempts to engender unity almost always seem to end up fanning broader societal tensions, leading to expressions of tribalism accompanied by reactions steeped in apologia. I also suspect that said sloganeering might have the ironic effect of quashing debate and suppressing a more nuanced take of the events. Playing into the hands of those fanning hate.

Space Dandy (Ep. 1-5)

The weakest parts of Space Dandy are the boob jokes. That’s unfortunate, because the show leads with the titular character ranting about being more of a butt man than a breast man, then makes a beeline for the intergalactic version of Hooters, appropriately called “Boobies.” Sadly, thats not the only monologue within the pilot episode that could be described as rambling and stupid. But viewers who stick with it are rewarded with a monster-fighting action sequence that is remarkably well-staged, especially for a television series. Already five episodes in, its almost feature-film production values have hardly wavered. And that’s an impressive achievement.

There were a lot of unrealistic expectations heaped upon Space Dandy because its director Shinichiro Watanabe also worked on the acclaimed Cowboy Bebop and Samurai Champloo. All three series are about a small band of drifters surviving from paycheck to paycheck performing the most odd and dangerous jobs. That’s were the similarity ends. Unlike those earlier efforts, Space Dandy is aggressively upbeat. Not to mention light on continuity. The cast actually dies in the pilot episode, and things don’t get any easier for them from there. But this is an affectionate parody of those classic swashbuckling space adventures, so killing his cast, only to resurrect them in the next episode is just all part of the gag. Space Dandy the protagonist is a doofus, not to mention a sexist jerk. And that’s the point. It’s not a particularly profound point to make, but does it have to be? As the show itself exhorts, “Go with the flow, baby.”

And Space Dandy is a candy-colored visual treat. This is not the dystopian or post-apocalyptic future that currently pervades much of today’s sci-fi. The show's setting is a bit closer to yesteryear's shining world of tomorrow. It glides from one gorgeously-drawn set piece to the next. And there are almost always a bevy of aliens crowding the background, as if it’s constantly trying to outdo the cantina scene from Star Wars. To call it world-building would be way too generous, but there is plenty of stuff to marvel at - the endless variety of space ramen being consumed, a futuristic version of Twitter, Hawaiian-themed mecha, hideous transmogrifying monsters, or a hospital infested by space zombies. Every episode satirizes/pays homage to one particular theme (Episode five recalls Cowboy Bebop), and the one important plot point that carries over is a running gag about a villain who is hounding the oblivious Dandy for us yet unexplained reasons. The writing for this narrative structure is naturally uneven, but there haven’t been any horrible episodes yet. And Space Dandy can even be clever, such as when it subverts itself during the zombie episode.

Animax is currently airing the english language dub, which I don’t feel the need to complain about. I’ve gotten a lot less snooty about the whole dub vs. sub issue after years of reading poorly worded and overly-literal fansubs and scanlations. In this particular case, the anime’s producers have been targeting the foreign market from the very beginning, and they’ve done a better than average job matching the voice quality to the carefree tone of the series. So unless they’re trying to disguise the fact that Space Dandy is a serious existential drama in Japan, I’m down with that.

Honey and Clover Vol. 10

By Chica Umino

The conclusion to Honey and Clover comes with few real surprises. As the series is basically a towering monument to the majesty of unrequited love, it's no real shock that none of the main characters end up together. At least not in the way expected in more traditional romantic comedies. After all, the whole thing is narrated by Yūta Takemoto, the unluckiest guy in the gang. And the tone throughout the series strongly implies that they'll eventually drift apart. As pointed out in Vol. 8, the only two people to have something remotely resembling a relationship are Ayumi Yamada and Takumi Mayama, though not with each other. And even when the volume catches up with them for one final look, their respective narratives are far from settled. Coming from the series' more down-to-earth characters, this unfinished state feels appropriate to the story. It's how things are concluded between Yūta, Shinobu Morita and Hagumi Hanamoto where things start to get a little odd.

Shinobu and Hagu have been in love with each other for quite some time, and have been torturing each other like two shy Fifth Graders who can't quite admit to their mutual attraction. The last volume ended in an emotional high as they finally confessed to having those feelings. But could these two volatile geniuses ever compromise their gifts or their aspirations? I've always found Hagu to be the least relatable of the entire cast, though the inner strength and determination she's exhibited of late have gone a long way to making her a more sympathetic character. But in the end, artistic passion wins over love. Hagu isn't looking so much for a partner, but apparently more of a father figure to watch over her while she heals. And when one does show up in the one plot twist I didn't see coming, he's willing to fulfill this role even if his own feelings towards her are never returned. The self-sacrifice is meant to be seen as something wonderful. But I found this match incredibly depressing, and to be honest, even a little disturbing.* But at least Shinobu finds his niche working with fun lovin' gaijin who can keep up with his misfit persona.

And so, the series ends just as it began - Yūta alone with his own thoughts. Looking back on the last five years, he asks "… if love that never bears fruit means anything. If something that vanishes and is gone is the same as something that never was." I'd say that the vivid emotions engendered by his own recollections have answered the question. And his last meeting with Hagu is so bittersweet it absolutely floored me.

The latter part of this volume includes some ancillary material, including two bonus chapters that are more in line with the lighthearted humor of the earlier volumes. Not that the silliness was ever expunged from the series. Far from it...

___
* I guess that even adult romance stories must have at least one creepy pairing.

Honey and Clover Vol. 9

By Chica Umino

As expected, vol. 9 of Honey and Clover advances the individual story lines of Hagumi "Hagu" Hanamoto and Shinobu Morita in a manner that is comparatively more melodramatic than those of the rest of the cast. We're finally let into what exactly Morita and his older brother have been up to all this time, and their actions retroactively explain Shinobu's prolonged periods of absence from school and his often fanatical obsession with accumulating vast sums of money while still remaining exceptionally miserly towards everyone.

Both Shinobu and Hagu have been largely defined as the series resident geniuses. In many ways, this role has hemmed them in. While most of Shinobu's friends, classmates and teachers have tolerated his selfishness on account of the brilliant work he supposably turns in from time to time, they've handled Hagu with kid gloves. She's the delicate flower whose extraordinary gifts must be carefully nurtured lest they wilt. At the beginning these surface differences resulted in much comic relief as the two butted heads for alpha-artist status, despite an obvious mutual attraction developing between them. But for the most part they're remained enigmatic figures, and after awhile this gets kind of boring to read. Something needed to be done to shake them up, which is what happens here.

What this volume demonstrates more clearly is how being labelled a genius has isolated these two characters. We learn that throughout the series Shinobu has been assisting his brother in a personal vendetta against the people who've wronged their late father. Shinobu is compassionate and loyal to a fault, but he's beginning to manifest some dissatisfaction over being perceived primarily through his incredible talent. Nevertheless he doesn't reveals his quest to the rest of the cast, further increasing his separation.

Hagu can't avoid being infantilized for her childlike stature and mannerisms. It doesn't help that she's supremely timid. Hagu claims that she wants to return to her childhood home once she graduates from art school. But she's at the cusp of admitting that she might actually want more out of life. The central event of this volume is a horrible accident that pushes her to grow up a little. While Hagu has demonstrated amazing powers of concentration in the past, this is the first time she's had to apply herself in ways that are well outside her comfort zone.

As for the third person in their love triangle, Yūta Takemoto is left mainly on the sidelines. He briefly considers abandoning his career plans to care for Hagu, before realizing how disastrous a choice that would be for everyone. As the POV character, Yūta is the primary voice for the series deeply nostalgic tone. He's a guy who expresses regret that the cast wasn't able to go on a certain beach excursion, and he conjures up an imaginary beach episode in his mind. It sure does suck to be Yūta. While the last volume focused on some of his friends moving on with their romantic relationships, not only does his five-year long infatuation remain unrequited, he'll be moving away after graduation and lose regular contact with everyone. No wonder the entire manga's narration is so wistful.

Getting back to Shinobu and Hagu, the accident is the catalyst that finally compels them to confront their shared anxieties, and someone raises the possibility of leaving it all behind. Can these two escape their respective reputations? Could these two volatile personalities even function well together?

Honey and Clover Vol. 8

By Chica Umino

When people look back nostalgically at their time in college and proclaim that those were the best years of their lives, what they're actually celebrating is a period of arrested development. At least that's the case with the cast of Honey and Clover. Not one member has managed to progress in anything resembling a grown-up relationship for the past seven volumes, not even the series' actual grown-ups. No one plays the field. Or has short term affairs. All anyone does in this manga is pine for another person for the last five years. It's an idyllic situation that has to come to an end because, frankly, it's starting to become unhealthy. In this volume, at least two characters are coming to the realization that they need to move past their childhood crushes and get on with their lives.

No more is this evident than with Ayumi Yamada, whose prolonged childhood is symbolized by an imaginary pack of cussing, overprotective unicorns. Now a post-graduate ceramics student, everything she's done up to this point has been in order to hang-on to her love interest Takumi Mayama despite having no chance with him. As a new man tries to situate himself in her life, the animal guardians become increasingly aggressive. The emotionally devastating climax of the volume is when she comes to a personal reckoning on why she's carried the torch for Mayama for such a long time. This is the most brutally introspective passage creator Chica Umino has written about her, but at least the overall impression is that she may be able to move on and find someone more worthy of her attention. Maybe.

This is mirrored by the enigmatic Rika Harada. She carries her physical frailty like a badge of honor and as a visible reminder of her dead husband. In flashback sequences, she's willing to follow him anywhere. And it appears she's now prepared to follow him to oblivion. A sudden visit to her childhood home serves as a painful reminder of how much she's lost. But as with Ayumi, the presence of another man (this time Mayama) forces her to reconsider.

With Yūta Takemoto appearing at to have accepted that his love will remain unrequited now that he's chosen his individual path through life, the manga is left with its two most eccentric and juvenile characters: hyper-aggressive man-child Shinobu Morita, and moe-magnet Hagumi Hanamoto. The story continues to drop hints that Morita and his brother are conspiring on something big. And the very conflicted Hagu has been avoiding Yūta since he's returned from the trip he took in the last volume. I just know their respective resolutions are going to be a bit more high key than the rest.

Honey and Clover Vol. 7

Honey and Clover remains among the most mellow depictions of quarter-life confusion I've read in comic form. At it's heart is Yuta Takemoto, whose life journey took a more literal turn in volume 6 when he hopped on his bicycle and road it as far as he could. Trying to escape the feelings of "emptiness" threatening to overwhelm him, Takemoto's cross-country journey settles into the easy, steady rhythm that has characterizes the rest of the series.

Creator Chica Umino has never seemed particularly interested in capturing the urban bustle, preferring to to place her Tokyo art school next to open fields, bubbling streams, and rolling hills. So the Takemoto storyline plays into her strengths as an artist. Moving away from the city gives her ample opportunity to not only illustrate scenes of natural beauty, but also of small-town Japan. Takemoto visits many quaint-looking convenience stores run by little old ladies. In one amusing scene, a store manager generously cooks him lunch while regaling him with stories about visiting Los Angeles. A shocked Takemoto is forced to reflect on how little of the world he's actually seen, compared to his host. Early in the book, Takemoto resolves to visit as many temples as he can afford to enter. This happens after he marvels at the craftsmanship of a window in the Zuiganji Temple. in that sense, Takemoto's road trip takes on aspects of a pilgrimage. There's nothing overtly religious, as the inspiration is artistic in origin. But there's still something pleasantly nostalgic about Takemoto's desire to see as much of old Japan before the summer is over.

Of course, Umino brings Takemoto down to earth not long after. His bike breaks down, forcing him to seek shelter at a nearby temple. Falling asleep after talking to a resident cat, he wakes up to discover the building undergoing restoration. He negotiates with the foreman to work for them part-time in order to earn the money to repair/replace his bike. He finds the manual labor emotionally rewarding, and even considers staying. But all too soon he's on the road again, facing the same doubts and anxieties that first motivated him into leaving Tokyo.

Takemoto's journey is mirrored by Hagu Hanomoto's own inability to find artistic inspiration. Failing to meet the demands of her professors, Hagu only begins to find her voice again after witnessing the struggles of an even younger student put in her charge. It's an appropriately tender, cute and funny scenario. It's also a little obvious. It doesn't resolve everything. But it's emblematic of Honey and Clover's proclivity for small-scale incidents over big, melodramatic confrontations.

Speaking of confrontations, it didn't occur to me that's it's taken this long for distant romantic rivals Ayumi Yamada and Rika Harada to finally meet. The meeting itself is less interesting than the resulting consternation it causes among the other characters, particularly Takumi Mayama and friends. While they assess the percieved "damage" and debate the next course of action, they're suddenly interrupted by Yamada. What happens next is probably the best comic moment in the book.

With only a few volumes left, the series has quietly reached a turning point, particularly with Takemoto, who now seems to be crossing into adulthood. Studiously keeping away from excessive displays of angst, Honey and Clover shows no hint of abandoning its wistful, warm, low-key approach.

All Hail Nina!

That Little Weasel! from Nina’s Adventures by Nina Paley
via Noah Berlatsky
Image cleaned-up by yours truly

Honey and Clover Vol 6

Honey and Clover has turned out to be an odd series to wrap my mind around. I've spent a lot of time with art school students, so I recognize the broad types that Chica Umino is basing her characters on. But they're refracted through a different set of cultural values and popular conventions. Take Shinobu Morita: A perpetual adolescent whose narcissism and rule-breaking behavior is a constant source of irritation to every other character, but whose gregarious personality and oblique ways of demonstrating affection for even his beleaguered instructors differs from the disaffected attitude that is de rigueur to his Western counterparts. Then there's "Hagu" Hanamoto, a recognized prodigy who just happens to be shorter than average, but is the recipient of the sometimes overprotective behavior from the rest of the cast, particularly from her guardian Shūji Hanamoto. Like most relationships characterized as moé, this bond verges on creepy territory, at least to me, even with all the in-story justifications presented so far. And some of that creepy protectiveness is reflected in Takumi Mayama's attraction to the physically frail Rika Harada (While rejecting the far healthier Ayumi "Iron Man" Yamada).

Setting aside these reservations, Umino has fashioned some of the more beautifully layered cast of characters to be found within a coming-of-age manga. They're more interesting than the overly-wrought cast of Kare Kano. They're more subtly shaded than the cast of Flower of Life. They're as quirky in their own way as the members of Genshiken. While the entire series is framed by two love triangles, Umino manages to establish within her small group some very well-rounded individuals whp credibly fumble their way through life the way real-world college students are supposed to.


By volume 6 the sustaining conditions for those two love triangles begin to weaken as the students begin to detach and establish their separate careers outside of the safety of art school. This inevitable development has a significant effect on reader-identification character Yūta Takemoto. As the student who's always felt overshadowed by his more talented peers, Takemoto has lacked a clear sense of purpose. As the end of his collegiate life draws ever closer, and his career prospects remain as dim as ever, he makes an impulsive decision to "find himself". Such a move is fraught with danger of sounding cliched. But it works because Umino has carefully laid the ground for his emotional breakdown in previous chapters. Character development isn't brought about by big dramatic actions, but through tiny increments and small revelations. At the beginning of the volume, a series of parallel conversations suddenly force Mayama and Yamada to consider how they've both subconsciously contributed to the continuance of Ayumi's unrequited love for Mayama. Another series of conversations also compels Morita to reveal that he's a lot more sensitive to Hagu's anguished attempts to live-up to demanding academic and social expectations engendered by her enormous talent.

If all this sounds kind of dour, the comic is, on the contrary, often pretty funny. The serious scenes last no longer than necessary. And Umino treats everything with a light touch. Some of the best conversations in the series tend to involve traditional social occasions, and the imbibing of copious amounts of alcohol, which is always entertaining for the reader. But the humor is never cruel. Well, not too much. There's no doubt that even when putting her characters through their paces, she's sympathetic towards them, as her perfectly engaging art elucidates:


See, unemployment is hilarious, especially when it really hurts someone you care about! And where would Honey and Clover be without a truly silly Hagu-Morita art-related showdown?


Good times, good times.

Callwork, A Call Center Life

One of the more dubious effects of globalization in the Philippines is the explosive growth of the Business Process Outsourcing (BPO) economy, specifically the development of the call center industry in the last decade. It's a sector that the Filipino government, looking to attract more foreign investment, has been promoting as a "Sunshine Industry" and dropped millions of dollars for job-training programs. They predict that more than a million people will be working as customer-service representatives by 2010. Aside from advertising the obvious lower operating costs, the government also touts a large pool of highly educated, English-speaking workers who already possess deep cultural ties with America.

It's hard to deny the need for for any kind of employment during these recessionary times: Any job is better than no job. But setting aside the problematic and disproportionate nature of depending on capital from large multinational corporations to prop-up the local economy, working as a call agent sucks donkey balls. As anyone who has who has heard the tales of ex-employees (Or read User Friendly) knows, call work is a thankless job where (preferably) tech-savvy individuals have to deal with the whining end of customer relations. All the while everything they do, from the length of their bathroom breaks to the time spent on each call, is being carefully monitored by management. Filipinos also have to re-adjust their sleeping habits in order to accommodate to the schedules of foreign customers. They're only allowed to speak in English while on company grounds. And they're often on the receiving end of customer aggression when any hint of an accent is detected.


Hazel Manzano worked as a call agent for several years before being promoted up the chain to middle management. She started a humor strip about working in a call center, which are archived online. But her latest cartoons now appear in the Sunday comics section of a national newspaper. Callwork, A Call Center Life collects the earliest of these strips in TPB format. While not autobiographical, they offer an insider's take on what's it like to work for a call center. So there's a lot of dirt dished-out: Illicit affairs, employee theft, personal hygiene issues, nighttime ghost sightings, bad eating habits, sleeping on the job, high absenteeism, high attrition rates, job hopping etc.

Some of the criticisms leveled against the work-humor strip Dilbert could also be directed at Callwork. On the surface it shows empathy for its characters and how their layabout ways undermine the corporate philosophy of impersonal efficiency. There's something deeply capricious about a company that times employees when they leave their desks and arbitrarily enforces English on the work floor. But Callwork doesn't go after the BPOs themselves. The employees might occasionally rail against their immediate supervisors, but they ultimately bow to the corporate hierarchy. There is more than one way to look at this: Either Manzano is simply standing firm with her on-the-floor perspective, or any potential critique is being gutted out by insider loyalty. I'd like to believe that there are employees out there with a more critical perspective than Manzano's.


Callwork's ensemble cast is sketchily drawn, both literally and figuratively. There are a few circumstantial differences: One sleeps with her boss; Another vainly hopes to get promoted; Another frets about money. Overall they're not very distinct. They all possess preternatural quantities of geniality, which I suppose is really necessary for this line of work. The only character that stands out is a sarcastic call agent named Clover, who is also unfortunately wedded to the flaming queen stereotype. I get more than enough of that reading certain kinds of manga. As I haven't read her later work, I can't comment on whether her characters develop more clearly defined personalities. For the most part the humor found in this volume is affable but forgettable, and hardly to cause offense to Manzano's employers.

While I'm on this Topic

Yotsuba&! Volume 6 by Kiyohiko Azuma

Yen Press is finally releasing the loooong awaited sixth Yotsuba&! book along with new editions of the first five volumes, and with the seventh and eighth books coming soon. Yessss! Sounds like the English-speaking world might finally get caught-up with their fellow Japanese readers. Now to get someone to license Chi’s Sweet Home.

The Creepy Side of Cute

Yotsuba&! Volume 5
That's just f#$*&d up! It's been raining a lot lately, which isn't unusual in this part of the world. But the weather's starting to mess with my mood.

Dramacon

One trend I've noted within this month's posts is the emergence of a younger generation of artists influenced by the shojo manga imported from Japan in the last decade. It's a marked contrast to the previous generations of comic creators whose exposure to manga was almost exclusively shonen or seinen. This infusion of girl-oriented comics just happens to coincide with the recent trend towards the cross-gender kawaii aesthetic, felt even in the pages of the king of boys adventures magazines, Shonen Jump.

Developing these talents is undoubtedly a long-term effort. Russian born, Canadian educated Svetlana Chmakova is probably the most promising young creator presently active. I thought I'd take a look at Dramacon, her first long-form work. Chmakova seems to have followed the familiar advise of writing what you know, because Dramacon is clearly drawn from real life experiences. The entire story takes place in and around an anime convention - Actually an annual convention held three times within the comic to be more precise. Originally published in three separate volumes, each volume tells the events at one convention. The result of this narrative structure is that despite the large total page count, the character interactions have to be resolved within a smsller deliniated space. Another compromise starting from volume two is that offstage developments - what occurs between the conventions - have to be quickly summarized at the beginning of each volume, which isn't particularly elegant since it highlights the contrived nature of the narrative's serial nature.

In part one Christie Leroux, a high school student and amateur writer, travels to Yattacon with her artist/boyfriend Derek Hollman to promote their self-published book at the convention's artist alley. As a complete newbie, Christie immediately suffers extreme culture shock. But Derek is too much of a jerk to support his clearly distressed girlfriend. Left to fend for herself, Christie literally runs into cosplayer Matt Green. Matt's something of a lone wolf working out his own issues over fear of rejection. Nevertheless he lavishes more attention on Christie in a few minutes than Derek does during the entire con. Christie gradually begins to disengage herself from Derek as she falls in love with Matt.


The romantic plot is nothing new off course, but the chemistry between Christie and Matt is both very charming while containing just enough edge to make their relationship believable. That their romance takes place in an anime convention gives it a heightened surreal quality. Chmakova captures the bustle and energy of the event and neatly summarizes what goes on for the most part. But the convention also serves to frame the extent of the romance. After three days everybody has to return to their real lives.

Aside from falling in love, Christie is also an ambitious writer. Unlike other fledgling talents unable to take constructive criticism, she is open-minded and earnest. She briefly falls under the wing of seasoned professional Lida Zeff - a somewhat idealized comic creator/mentor figure whose encouragement motivates Christie to work harder on her book.

While only the first part of a larger work, volume one of Dramacon actually works well enough as a self-contained romantic comedy: A couple meet, fall in love, and separate in the end. A reader could stop at this point.

In part two there is a noticeable shift in attitude and emphasis. While Matt's new girlfriend prevents Christie and Matt from simply picking-up where they left off, other characters share center stage. Christie is accompanied to Yattacon by new artist Bethany Peters, who replaces Christie as the convention-going newbie. A trio of artist alley tablemates known as Firebird Studios can't help but listen in, and function as a humorous Greek chorus. Despite her inexperience, Bethany's own artistic skills are advanced enough for Lida to personally recommend her to a colleague for some future project. She is however ambivalent about becoming a professional comic artist, not in small part due to familial pressure to enter into a more respectable field. As always Lida shows-up later to give Bethany some sage career advice.


While the convention still retains its energizing effect, the snarkier side of fandom reveals itself to Christie and Bethany. Obnoxious artists, know-it-all fans, unwanted glompers, fussy cosplayers, mean-spirited cosplay haters, message board trollers, all get some commentary. One particularly self-indulgent scene has Lida debate, and win against, an annoying manga purist over the proper definition of manga. Naturally the purist looks to be about ten years old. This particular issue has obvious resonance to Chmakova. There's something heartfelt in her exploration of these aspects of fandom. But her attempts to juggle Christie and Matt's relationship, Bethany's professional aspirations, and myriad facets of the North American manga industry, produce a less focused narrative. By the end of part two, Christie and Matt have been reduced to smaller supporting roles.

The last volume is the weakest of the three. While the Christie/Matt romance finally moves forward after being put on a holding pattern in the last volume, the Bethany arc takes central stage. Her family visits her at Yattacon, which causes her mother to look on disapprovingly as Bethany tries to justify her behavior. Unfortunately there is little space to develop these new characters in this already crowded volume. Thus attempts to reach a satisfactory resolution fall flat not just for the Bethany/mother conflict, but also for the rest of the cast. There's a line uttered which is meant to lampshade another plot point, but could be applied to the conclusion of Dramacon: "This is a little too perfect and convenient. Where is the tension? Where is the drama? I call bad writing.”

Dramacon is still thoroughly enjoyable despite its disappointing third-act. Much of its problems stem from oscillating between the Christie/Matt romance, and the later additional elements which could have been helped with more space. But there's no doubting Chmakova's strengths as a visual storyteller. The art starting from volume one is highly polished, made more impressive when considering that the story takes place in a setting as rich in background detail as an anime convention. Chmakova has absorbed the language of manga - it's expressiveness, rhythm, and energy - and transliterated them into a North American milieu. This is far more sophisticated than mimicking the most superficial aspects of mainstream Japanese comics to reinterpret familiar American characters. I occasional wonder if Chmakova's training as an animator must have something to do with this, because Lida emphatically recommends art school at one point.


For what its worth, Dramacon is a very entertaining effort, and a heartening example for other young, aspiring creators. Hopefully Chmakova's style will continue to mature and deepen. It will be interesting to see whether she and her contemporaries will thrive in the coming years.

Note: The Ultimate Edition collecting all three volumes contains some additional material in the form of a short story that takes place after the events of Dramacon.

Honey and Clover Vol 1-2

I've been meaning to post this for some time. But you know, life gets in the way.

Honey and Clover sticks out amongst the various shojo manga translated into English. Creator Chica Umino draws in a scratchy pen and ink style, restrained in use of screentones and other effects, with minimal backgrounds. It almost like reading a sequentially arranged sketchbook. Most pages deviate wildly from the 4 panel or 6 panel grid - Umino can't seem to draw a normal square panel, as most are either tilted, warped, overlapping, or sent bleeding of the page. Sometimes they can seem overcrowded with many little word balloons and captions. This can look like it might be rather confusing, but fortunately the story isn't particularly difficult to follow. The characters themselves are appealingly cartoony and have an appearance of almost childlike innocence. The whole manga feels like it's set in a dreamlike world, seen through the eyes of an adult looking back on his naive youth. If there's any weakness to Umino's character design, it's that at times they appear to be a little too flat and simplified to stand out from the background.

Set in a Tokyo art school, the reader is introduced to the cast through the point of view character Yūta Takemoto, a second year student. The comic's episodic structure focuses on Yūta's peer group, and the one professor who manages to get dragged along to their various excursions. The comedy is derived from how they deal with the typical worries over money (They're impoverished college kids after all), getting enough protein to eat, partying, getting drunk, dealing with the holiday blues, working on assignments, passing courses, graduating, getting a job after graduation, and falling in love. It's all mundane slice-of-life material. But while the early humor never disappears, the tone of the story becomes increasingly bittersweet as the focus gradually turns more to the love lives of the cast. By the end of the 2nd volume, the two main love triangles are established, which presumably will dominate the proceedings of the rest of the series.

Both love triangles feature insecure males being drawn to emotionally traumatized females. On the one hand we have nice guy Yūta and talented jerkass Shinobu Morita falling for moe figure Hagu Hanamoto. Some readers are no doubt going to find their attraction to Hagu somewhat disturbing, as this 18 year old looks like someone ten years younger. She even behaves in an infantile way, playing with dolls, talking in simple phrases, walking around with a constantly distracted expression. But this combination of youthful appearance and prodigious talent has isolated her from the rest of her peers, which isn't helped by the overprotectiveness of her guardian, professor Shūji Hanamoto. While Yūta lacks the self-confidence to express his love directly, Shinobu expresses his by simultaneously bullying her into modeling for him while trying to outdo her as an artistic rival.

The 2nd, more "adult", love triangle has senior student Takumi Mayama chasing after older woman Rika Harada while being pursued by Ayumi "Ironman" Yamada. Rika is a widow badly scarred by an accident which also took her husband's life. While Rika is quiet and emotionally withdrawn, Ayumi is outgoing and energetic. She's pretty and intelligent. She's a star pupil with her own instant fan club. Takumi ignores her for Rika, whom he works for part time at her design firm. But this doesn't stop her from confessing her love. Rika, on the other hand, has exhibited little interest in getting involved with anyone since her husband's death.

There are some other threads like Yūta's uneasy relationship with his stepfather, or Shinobu's unexplained absences. It's clear that he's involved in a scheme that's unrelated to the rest of the cast. But the interactions of the students are the central concern of the story. For all the youthfulness of that cast, the overall mood is one of nostalgic longing. Towards the end of vol. 2 Hagu goes out looking for a four-leaf clover. She is joined by Yūta, and eventually the rest of the gang. After an afternoon of fruitless searching, they settle down for a meal with professor Hanamoto. As they eat Yūta looks at the faces of his friends and thinks "I know the day will come...when all of this is past, and it all becomes a memory. But I know I'll remember it, over and over...That blue sky and the smell of the wind and the endless carpet of clover."

Ah, was I ever that ruminative?

Blame Evangelion

Jesus is a naif blonde. Satan is a lute-playing sorcerer. And caught in the middle is your standard shonen hero. It's a showdown between good and evil at a small seaside village in Croatia. Don't ask, just click.

Pretty Face Volume One

Cross-dressing is one of those familiar romantic comedy conventions that goes in and out of style, but will probably never completely vanish. The protagonist gains access to, and is allowed to remain close with a love interest by being disguised as the opposite gender. She won't reveal her true identity for fear of being rejected. But if the relationship is to proceed beyond the platonic level, the disguise has to be discarded. There's the rub, and the catalyst for all kinds of situational humor. Think of Viola in Twelfth Night, or Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon in Some Like it Hot.

While cross-dressing characters continue to show-up in mainstream entertainment, their traditional comic role has been transplanted into Japanese manga. Sometimes it's a case of playing with the appearance of androgynous-looking bishonen and bishojo: Haruhi Fujioka of Ouran High School Host Club, or the princesses of Princess Princess. But in the short-lived series Pretty Face, creator Yasuhiro Kano comes-up with a most unlikely premise for a romantic story, and proceeds to milk it for all its comic worth. High school bully and karate fighter Masashi Rando is involved in a school bus accident that leaves him horribly disfigured and in a coma for a year. When he finally recovers, he discovers that his parents think he's dead and have moved away leaving no forwarding address. Even more upsetting is that he now wears the face of Rina Kurimi, a girl he secretly likes, because Dr. Manabe, the surgeon who fixed him up, used a photo of her found amongst Rando's personal belongings to reconstruct his face. This gross incompetence progresses into criminal misconduct when he decides to perform a sex change operation on the comatose Rando, who fortunately at that moment regains consciousness. After fleeing from Manabe's clinic, he runs into Rina, who mistakes him for her missing twin sister Yuna Kurimi. Overjoyed by the sudden reunion, she drags him home where he is welcomed back into the family with open arms and no questions asked. Rando's first instinct is to run away, but decides to stay in order not to hurt Rina's feelings. He resolves to track down the true Yuna while continuing to masquerade as her.

Still with me? The real fun begins when Rando/Yuna enrolls at his old school and settles-in with Rina and her friends. He forgets to use the women's toilets, gets involved in the old rivalry between the karate and judo clubs, fends off the advances of a lecherous male teacher, makes excuses to avoid the annual medical exams, all the while dealing with Dr. Manabe's constant suggestions to get rid of that "unnecessary appendage." He initially tries to solve these problems by exploiting his newly acquired good looks and "feminine" charms, but can't help falling back on his old habits of resorting to physical violence. Ironically his actions, which branded him as a delinquent as a boy, now draw so much unwanted attention that an instant fan club is formed by his horde of male admirers. There's nothing subtle about Rando. He's the typical shonen roughneck with a heart of gold. While he acts like a jerk, he's completely devoted to, and highly protective of Rina, happy to be at her side. Rina is herself a rather bland character and no less a manga cliche. Generically quiet, sweet-natured, and smart, she was already conveniently crushing on Rando before his supposed demise.

Yasuhiro Kano has a strong proclivity for drawing cute high school girls. He gets rid of the dorky-looking male Rando in the first half dozen pages of the story. After his transformation, Rando/Yuna is shown in a number of compromising poses that emphasize his attractiveness while threatening to expose his masculinity. Look at the volume #1 cover for example. Would the uninformed person seeing it on a shelf at Borders think that was a boy? At one point he dons a pair of large fake breasts at Manabe's insistence, which convincingly makes him more effeminate than any live actor could by wearing makeup and prosthetics. Unfortunately he can't remove them for the next 24 hours, so he tries to hide them by wrapping them tightly in bandages, with predictably disastrous results. Only with pictures can characters be designed to provide fan service that simultaneously titillates and flummoxes the reader. Kano is also pretty adept at rendering comically exaggerated expressions and cartoon violence, which he uses to good effect to illustrate Rando's gender confusion and ferocious outbursts.

I don't know if it was a lack of commercial success or a decision on Kano's part to end the series, but Pretty Face reached only six volumes in Japan. Weirder manga have lasted longer than that. It's a fairly innocuous product despite Viz giving it a mature content rating. Just lots of goofy fun for young readers.

Parting is Caustic

How do otaku say "goodbye" when they must part ways? From Genshiken by Kio Shimoku.

Moe Maid

Kaoru Mori pokes fun at some of the usual maid fetish tropes found in manga on her website. John Jakala offers translations. This one strip sums it up.

Princess Princess Vol. 1

One of the salutary features of the manga industry is the equal-opportunity nature of it's emotional manipulation. If the cute moekko is designed to elicit a nurturing, protective response from the male audience, then the androgynous bishonen is meant to engender similar feelings in female readers. In both cases there is a tendency to idealize the emotional and physical vulnerability of the character in question while eschewing sexually explicit displays associated with lolicon and shotacon. This might seem confusing to the non-fan, but the idea behind moe is that the reader offers support to the character from the sidelines rather than becoming actively involved with the character.

What all this means is that Princess Princess is a manga for teenage girls to fantasize about attractive boys without having to worry about competition from other girls, or having to deal with something icky like actual sex. An elite all-boys school develops an unusual custom to counteract the low morale caused by the lack of female students - recruit the prettiest incoming freshmen to cosplay in women's dresses during various school events. This tradition is carried-out by the ubiquitous and Machiavellian school council. Rather than organize the usual co-ed events with other schools, this is what they come up with?

If this were the real world these cross-dressers, called princesses, would be constantly harassed and beaten-up. Instead they are adored by the presumably heterosexual male students who perfectly comprehend that they're staring at other males. In order to maintain the illusion, a look but no touch policy is strictly enforced - The princesses live in separate dorms, use separate facilities, and are closely protected from any unwanted contact. Basically they're treated like pop idols. But while the protagonists are being mobbed by fans, no hint of indiscretion takes place at all. The reader expecting a darker psychological undercurrent or looking for an exploration of transgender issues will come away disappointed. It is just silly dress-up fun. After some initial hesitation, main character Toru Kouno, along with Yujiro Shihoudani, eagerly volunteers to be a princess once he learns of the generous perks that come with the position. Together they mercilessly tease Mikoto Yutaka, the only student who feels he was forced into the role, as well as the only one with an actual girlfriend.

This review is based on volume one of the series, but a significant drawback was the lack of foreword movement in the story. Most of the book was spent on exposition: Describing the school, the characters and the premise. There are an unfortunate amount of talking heads and large speech balloons, and not enough variety in the art to make-up for the monotonous arrangement. Mikiyo Tsuda places her figures in the mid-ground, and mostly avoids drawing backgrounds, making it difficult to place them in any context. The plot moves so slowly that it's more than halfway through the volume before any cross-dressing actually takes place, and there isn't nearly enough of it. Good dialogue could have benefited the story. But unfortunately the rather long-winded descriptions undercut most of the attempts at humor.

These are the awkward early chapters of what may, or may not turn out to be, a good comedy series. With the exposition now out of the way, the story better get moving.