The Tenge family is reeling in the wake of the post-war American occupation. As they watch their lands in the Japanese countryside get sold off to tenant farmers, the once-rich clan sees the return of P.O.W. son Jiro, who is now working undercover for the American occupation forces. He comes home to find a family rife with sin and dark secrets. His brother Ichiro is letting his own father sleep with his wife in return for the family fortune, resulting in Jiro's new four-year-old sister/niece Ayako. After Jiro is implicated in a high-profile murder case, with Ayako’s testimony serving as the only evidence toward his indictment, the family decides to preserve their honor by locking her away in the storehouse cellar, to be kept there until she dies.

It is a testament to Tezuka's tight cast and vibrant characterization that he manages to keep the story interesting despite its frequent jumps in both time and place. The Tenges eventually spread out into different places and careers, but the connection to the original reasons for Ayako's imprisonment remain a burden upon all of their consciences, thus keeping everything centered around the title character. The small cast helps you create a deeper connection with them, as their relationships and feelings are all easily understood within the structure of their acutely dysfunctional family.

Ironically, though, Ayako herself is little more than a caricature. She emerges from her 23-year imprisonment as an emotionally stunted young woman, completely ignorant of many customs and ideas that come naturally to most people. This simplistic personality can get a little grating after a while, and it certainly makes her character hard to connect with, but Tezuka makes it clear that he intends her odd behavior as an expression of her tragic upbringing.

Speaking of tragedy, Ayako is horrifically sad beyond any other Tezuka manga I have ever read, and in fact beyond most other manga, period. With murder, rape, and incest throughout, this is not a book for the faint of heart. Sometimes it feels like Tezuka is just throwing in more tragedy for the sake of making you sadder, but it all ends up serving the author's ultimate message: a condemnation of secrecy and hidden sin. In the end, what destroys the characters is a compounding of everything they have ever done (and not done) to other people. As the vessel for the Tenge family's sins, Ayako gets the brunt of their love, hate, compassion, and anger, making its conclusion all the more impactful.

Throughout Ayako, Tezuka revels in the vastness of the Japanese countryside, providing beautiful full-page drawings of hills and fields alongside meticulously drawn cityscapes. Additionally, he tries his hand at recreations of photographic images, a technique that accentuates the historical relevance granted by his frequent references to real events during the Japanese reconstruction. It's also worth noting that only a single character from Tezuka's Star System (the detective Geta) shows up in Ayako, a very deliberate choice that serves to detach the characters and their predicaments from the sometimes whimsical worlds of Tezuka's other works.

Vertical's translation is great as always, but this time they've brought on Mari Morimoto, well-known translator of manga like Dragon Ball (1984) and Naruto (1997). The one notable facet of the translation, which may be credited to either Morimoto or the editors in charge of revising her translation, is the depiction of the characters' country accents. All of the Tenges speak in a Southern American accent, depicted phonetically in what I can best describe as the manga equivalent of a Mark Twain novel. I find that it adds a welcome sense of place to the work that manga often don't have, but some might find that they can only read "Naw!" so many times before it gets a little grating.

EDIT: Naturally, no review of Ayako can go without mentioning that it is flipped (i.e. reads left to right) and features beautiful art direction — from Peter Mendelsund — both inside and on its striking hard cover. Clearly Vertical did both of these things in order to promote it among literati types (as opposed to your average teenage manga fan in Barnes & Noble) as they did with Buddha (1972), and it does a great job. The flipping is an unfortunate consequence of this, but it should hopefully help the book find an audience outside of the manga crowd.

Ayako isn't quite perfect, mostly due to Tezuka's over-reliance on tragic twists and the title character's flat characterization, but as an examination of sin and long-term guilt, it is a powerful story, almost Shakespearean in its penchant for melodrama. Fans of Ode to Kirihito will find much to love here; in fact, its dedication to only a few locations and a centrally connected cast of characters makes it a little more accessible than the sprawling epic that is Kirihito. Be warned, however: Ayako is manga at its most tragic — in this seemingly endless bout of sin and suffering, no one is safe from the taint of evil, and no one is spared its consequences.

[Highly Recommended]

This review is based on a complimentary review copy, graciously provided by Vertical, Inc. (and given away to an Ani-Gamers reader after this review was written).

Reminder: Ani-Gamers is giving away copies of Ayako to two lucky readers. Check out the contest rules to enter!

The art plays a large part in the world-building — Kishiro puts painstaking detail into every character and part of the backdrop, bringing a richness to the world and making it all appear as a unified whole. Given the diversity in the buildings, people, and every small item strewn about in the panels, this is no small feat, and is quite simply arresting in its magnitude. You can get a real feel for the city just from a quick look at the rotting signs, the dirty streets, and the contents of every overflowing trashcan.

The main reason I dislike reading Alita, though, is the cast, in particular the titular Alita and her dumb pout. All the main characters in the series have an invisible mantle that sets them apart, making them feel like tourists or guest stars. Their motivations and actions overshadow the rest of the cast and the setting itself, relegating them to being inconsequential extras. Ido is a good example of a character with this special quality, as in addition to being an expert doctor and cyber-surgeon he is an awesome bounty hunter to boot. All these details weigh the character down and take away any interest you may have had as he is so limitless in his abilities. Not only that, but he uses a rocket-powered sledgehammer as his weapon of choice, which is a damn sweet weapon but makes you wonder why no-one else has thought of the same idea. I know for a fact that I would have rocket roller skates and pimp rocket tonfa in the rocket-infested cyborg future.

Alita is even more infuriating when it comes to shenanigans like switching motivations and changing her reactions to other characters at the drop of a hat. There is a very short side storyline where the doctor toys with the idea of marrying Alita, but this idea is thrown out the window in a very confusing conversation where character intentions do a 180 on both sides. So the good doctor chucks a wedding dress into a sewer in frustration, leaving me wondering where the hell he dug up a wedding dress in the blasted wasteland.

This gets even nuttier with the appearance of the first main antagonist, who loves eating brains with his gigantic tongue. Okay, that's cool; I can get behind a slavering cyborg endorphin junkie. Sadly it doesn't take very long for the plot mantle to land on this person as well — Alita takes his body out in a cool but disjointed fight which costs her most of her cyborg body, displaying moves that the wounded doctor magically identifies out of nowhere as a robotic martial art, "Panzer Kunst," of which there are supposedly no users. Until now!

Makakau, the antagonist, escapes from the fight scene with a sudden and rather contrived stroke of luck, quoting Nietzsche as he gets away. This is something you don't expect from someone reduced to a head-and-change, and takes you out of the drama entirely.

Alita then receives a crazy body that was intended for military purposes that the good doctor had lying around conveniently. This — combined with Alita's super fighting style — smacks of the author trying really hard to make you care about the character, but giving her too many bizarre power-ups in the process.

As the series continues events become more and more disjointed to the point that I was forcing myself to continue as I simply could not bring myself to care about the characters one jot. Multiple individuals whom I trust recommended the series to me, and so even though I didn't enjoy the first volume, I picked up the second in order to give Alita a fair shake. I can easily see how someone would have a different reaction to myself and utterly fall in love with the characters, the setting, and the outlandish storyline and read it over and over again. Sadly, even after repeated attempts to read the series, my negative reaction still remains. I would honestly suggest borrowing a copy of the first volume to see if it grabs you. If it does, then please feel free to leave a comment below outlining how I am crazy for not liking Battle Angel Alita.

[Bad]