Frequently cited — somewhat inaccurately — as the series that sparked the entire shōjo (girls comic) style, Princess Knight is also particularly notable for being one of the many manga for girls but written by a man. At the time there were very few women in manga, so it was expected for men to write comics for girls. However, many of the female manga artists who came to prominence in the 1970s, known collectively as the Showa 24 Group, would later cite Princess Knight as one of the series that inspired them to make their own manga.

Sapphire, the protagonist of Princess Knight, is both hero and heroine, since the mischevious angel Tink accidentally gave her both a boy and a girl heart before she was born. Since she is the heir apparent to the kingdom of Silverland, Sapphire's gender is quite important; women can't inherit the throne! To prevent the nasty Duke Duralumin's idiot son from becoming prince, her family raises Sapphire as both boy and girl, and she spends part of the day fencing and fighting, and another part picking flowers and talking to woodland creatures. God sends Tink down to Earth to fix his mistake and get back Sapphire's boy heart.

Meanwhile, beneath the facade of her princely life, Sapphire longs to fully embrace her girl side, and even wears a blonde wig to a carnival, wherein she meets the dashing Prince Franz Charming. But things go awry when Charming and Sapphire engage in a tournament as princes, and the nasty Duke Duralumin poisons Charming's sword in an attempt to kill Sapphire. A few hijinks later and the king is dead, Charming is accused of murder, and Sapphire's identity is revealed. She loses not only the throne, but her freedom as well: she and her mother find themselves locked in jail by their own people. For the remainder of these two thick volumes, we follow Sapphire's journey to regain the throne, win the love of Prince Charming, and escape the wiles of not only Duke Duralumin, but also Madame Hell, an appropriately named devil woman who wants to steal Sapphire's girl heart and give it to her own daughter.

Some critics have celebrated Princess Knight for its subversion of traditional gender roles, but ironically this is precisely where the manga fails to connect. Perhaps by the most liberal definition of the term, Vertical could claim that this is Tezuka's "proto-feminist" masterpiece (as they do on the back cover), but it hardly applies to a story in which Sapphire's girl heart gives her the ability to pick flowers and her boy heart gives her the ability to swordfight. I fact, in many cases she loses one heart or the other, and Tezuka makes it very clear that without the boy heart, she loses all of her strength and will to fight. (Get ready for gripping lines like "Oh no, I feel weak all of a sudden. I feel like my boy heart's been sucked right out of me! Oh, I'm so scared!")

The second volume features a bit more criticism of traditional gender roles, portrayed with classic Tezuka bluntness via a group of women who lock themselves in a castle and fight off the men in order to protect Sapphire. The most striking moment of this scene is when Sapphire — equipped only with a sword and her girl heart — fights off a villain she could only defeat previously when she had both hearts. Here it seems that Tezuka is making a more direct correlation between her fighting ability and Sapphire herself (rather than her gender), but it's such a long time coming and it comes from so far out of left field that it seems almost accidental.

The gender commentary isn't the only place where the presentation and pacing leave their marks, though. The entire manga runs at a breakneck pace, and major developments occur at such a striking speed that it can be difficult to keep up. Futhermore, when introducing characters, Tezuka wastes no time in explaining straight to your face exactly how they feel about everything, without the slightest hint of subtlety. For instance, within the first few pages of Sapphire meeting the pirate captain Blood, not only has he professed his instantaneous love for her, but she has introduced herself with the brilliant line "I promise I'm not a shady person."

Despite a whirlwind of events surrounding her, watching the eponymous Princess Knight can be downright boring. She's certainly not a passive Dinsey princess, but generally things happen to Sapphire, and she rarely does anything herself, making her little more than an object for the plot to bounce off of. Indeed, at one point near the climax she is bedridden, waiting for other characters to bring her the help she needs. Madame Hell's daughter Hecate, a hip, rebellious young devil girl who opposes her mother's plan to marry her off to Prince Charming, is a much more interesting heroine, and suffice it to say that a character named "Prince Charming" hardly ranks among Tezuka's most layered protagonists.

The comedy is the one aspect of Tezuka's style that remains consistently on-point in Princess Knight. There are lots of one- or two-panel visual gags that punctuate the action just long enough to induce a chuckle before he gets back into the main story, and they have the same sort of non-sequiter, anachronistic charm that we've come to expect from the author. None of this is all that surprising, since in the early 1960s Tezuka was still largely writing for children, and was still known for his gag antics.

This, of course, extends equally to the art, which falls much closer to Astro Boy (1952) than later works like Ode to Kirihito (1966), which makes sense considering that Princess Knight's original run was concurrent with Astro Boy (Tezuka reworked the series for a 1963 rerelease, the version used for the Vertical edition). While its overall tone is reminiscent of Astro Boy, it achieves an appropriately fairy-tale aesthetic through the use of super-clean lines, simple, bubbly shapes, and generally lighter tones. Readers may also notice that, in addition to the overwhelming Disney influence on the designs of the characters and backgrounds, Tezuka also takes cues from early shojo adventure comics like Katsuji Matsumoto's The Mysterious Clover (1934).

Princess Knight is, quite frankly, a baffling read. It seems to fly by even faster than Astro Boy, but unlike the richly established world and characters of that series, this feels more like a clumsy pastiche of Disney fantasy-adventure films. What's more, the gender commentary is bluntly feminist at best and downright sexist at worst, and the entire work feels largely purposeless. It pains me to say this, but I can't recommend Princess Knight unless, like me, you feel the need to plumb the depths of Osamu Tezuka's English-language catalog. Perhaps in its time Princess Knight may have captivated its young audience, but today it serves as a reminder that even a god makes mistakes every once in a while.

Here Tezuka begins to experiment with full black page backgrounds and a cinematic zoom effect, with each successive panel getting smaller and smaller (or larger and larger) to simulate a film camera. After one such zoom out and another zoom in, we have moved in both time and space to Lyon, France. The year is 1939, and Lamp has sold his father-in-law's scientific research to the Nazis. As if Acetelyne Lamp's typecast villany isn't established enough, Tezuka has now convinced us that he is not a man to be trusted. His wife is heartbroken.

Zoom! Cut! It is now seven years earlier, and Zephyrus is introducing her boyfriend, Lamp, to her father amid a field of flowers. He would like to marry her, and her father happily acquieces. Zoom in on butterflies, cut to two arms in a bedroom, the lights dimmed. They are in Nice, in the winter of the same year. For two pages here Tezuka shows us the intimacy of these two lovers with nothing more than a series of horizontal panels, framing their arms as they talk. Lamp is having financial difficulty and wants to sell Zephyrus's father's research. Her arm shrinks away from his.

More black panels bring us to Lyon in 1940, where Lamp informs his father-in-law that, on the Nazi's orders, he is sending him to work for them. In a page exclusively composed of vertical panels, Lamp moves from the bottom of the panel to the top, and we see him speaking down not only to Zephyrus's handicapped father, but to her as well. He is an ambitious, ruthless man, completely in control of the situation.

Another cacophonous black page takes us from Zephyrus's father's suicide to the birth of a baby to Locarno again, in 1940. Canted shots of trains show Zephyrus's frantic flight.

Finally, we come to rest in 1943, on a small island near Guadalcanal. A caretaker rushes back to Zephyrus's bedside, watching as she relays her final words to her daughters. They must destroy money, law, and men in order to get revenge on the father who destroyed their lives. Zephyrus passes, and we zoom away from her crying children and finish the story on one final black panel.

In just 24 pages, we see the beginning, middle, and end of a marriage, with time and space jumbled up in the subjectivity of memory. In the hands of a clumsier manga artist, such temporal and aesthetic changes would surely be confusing, but it is a testament to his genius that Tezuka is able to tie it all up into a fast-paced, digestible, and entertaining package.

This post is a part of the Osamu Tezuka Manga Moveable Feast (MMF), a week-long celebration of the manga work of Osamu Tezuka, hosted by The Manga Critic. Check out the extensive archive for this week's MMF at The Manga Critic.

I feel like I’ve let the prose get ahead of me for a manga review about a quintet of schoolgirls, all members of their school’s Light Music Club, doing silly things and being cute. Even so, I can’t deny the unsettling parallels between drug usage and reveling in the moé lifestyle. It can’t be ignored that there are some deeper machinations at work to have propelled this humble 4-koma gag manga into a merchandising empire that will keep a few creators and publishers financially sound for a time. It’s easy to forget there ever was a manga while the anime has commanded such a blinding presence in the last couple of years (primarily in Japan, different story in the West), and I would argue the franchise wouldn’t be half as successful had Kyoto Animation (KyoAni) not been handed the reigns. K-ON! is one of those cases where the adaptation overshadows the source material.

I would like to stop talking about what KyoAni has done for K-ON! and focus on the manga in question, but it must be said that Kakifly provided an excellent framework rather than a fully realized work. If your first taste of K-ON! came from the television show, the manga may come across as a downgrade. Most of the essential elements are there, but there’s something missing. We might as well get it out of the way now and admit that the missing piece is that deft, loving KyoAni touch that elevates erog and light novels to heights unimaginable by their original creators. While Kakifly competently illustrates the experiences of a group of high school friends, KyoAni breaths life into the world and quite literally makes the characters come alive and sing.

As unremarkable as I make it sound, Kakifly’s K-ON! is still one of the better slice-of-life manga out there. Like any good slice-of-life 4-koma, it’s easy to pick up and effortlessly flip through a whole volume in an hour. There are no ponderous subjects to tackle, hardly any moments of distress, and most conflicts are resolved through spirited enthusiasm and encouragement. Kakifly plays up the sexuality plenty of times, either for a joke or a splash page, but don’t get the wrong idea that K-ON! is some sort of subversive perversion of schoolgirl idolatry (the author isn’t nearly brilliant enough to make that work). Between the anime and the manga, Kakifly takes the crown for having the sexiest content of the two, but even he manages to show some restraint. There are no two-page full color spreads of bathhouse scenes with the Light Music Club, although I’m sure you’d be able to find a poster like that by browsing through K-ON! merchandise.

I don’t want to make any excuses for K-ON! to explain why I like it so much, which is why I need to admit that several criticisms about it are on the mark. K-ON! is about nothing, aside from an account of a high school music club across three years, and occasionally there are too many bare thighs and maid outfits for the typical manga cynic to stomach. K-ON!’s greatest strength that prevents it from collapsing into a sugary goo are its characters. Granted, this won’t work for everyone, but endearment towards the characters goes a long way in one’s enjoyment of K-ON!. While several characters are pulled from stock anime personalities (Ritsu is the energetic girl! Mugi is the kind-hearted rich girl! Nodoka is class rep among class reps!), the execution is such that everyone mixes together well. The anime might do it better, but the manga does a fine enough job convincing me that these people can be friends for reasons other than "we're in the same club". Each character possesses distinct minor traits and are allowed equal time to shine, avoiding favoritism in what is supposed to be an ensemble cast. The clean and attractive character designs avoid the usual anime embellishment, opting instead for a subdued and unified design across all characters. They are “real” enough while allowing Kakifly space to capture the characters' expressiveness.

For a manga that is wholly character-centric, Kakifly makes it look good by keeping it simple. The situations and jokes are such fluff, readers are likely to either grin like a creepy idiot or frown with measured disappointment. Don’t expect too much in-depth musical territory to be covered in the manga, as the girls spend most of their time lounging around in the club room or hanging out in town and each other’s houses. The leisurely pace of Kakifly’s high school utopia covers the usual circuit of Japanese adolescence, from school festivals to club trips. It’s hard not to get even a little invested in the world and characters when it’s made to be so appealing.

The Yen Press release of K-ON! is put together quite nicely. The pages are larger than the typical manga volume, so you won’t need to keep the book so close to your face to absorb the details. Each volume has an abundance of color pages and a few extras tacked on at the end, which I appreciate. The covers and spine are done up in each featured character’s image color and look appealing when lined up. I have minor grumblings about the localization, a welcome change to how I normally feel about having things I like put in a language I can understand by people paid to do so. I commend Yen Press for not writing out Mugi’s yuri-vision scenes after KyoAni killed that noise early in the anime adaptation. However, they dropped the ball by swapping out the onomatopoeia in Azusa’s nickname for the American equivalent, despite how damn near everyone who would pick up K-ON! knows what “nyaa~” is. Yen Press even goes to the length of including a glossary in each volume to explain details that might be lost on American audiences, yet they couldn’t keep “Azu-nya”. Not to mention how poorly “Azu-meow” tumbles out of my dumb American mouth.

I suppose the purpose of a review is to sell someone on a product, but I can’t put it out of my mind the weight one must carry to enjoy something like K-ON!. To the uninitiated, approaching K-ON! requires a blind leap. You either come out of it feeling gross or you discover a new dimension to that Japanese stuff you enjoy so much. If you’re like me, you won’t find out about the dark side of seinen manga target demographics until after you’re in too deep. You’ll most definitely be judged for being into “That Little Girl Crap”, but they can never hope to understand you or your moé. Like with any drug, remember to never take it too hard and always mind your budget.

Giving at least $25 to the Kickstarter will net you a copy of the book if and when it is released, giving over $35 gets you the book plus a digital companion with "bonus art and commentary," and DMP has thrown in a bunch of other nice extras as the pledge amounts get higher. (The top prize, for pledging $145 or more, is a copy of Barbara signed by Tezuka scholar Frederik L. Schodt, your name at the top of the credits in the book, and a tour of the DMP offices, among other things.) And the way Kickstarter works, your money only goes through if the campaign is successful, so there's no risk.

As anime scholar Helen McCarthy points out in a blog post, this new strategy of financing publishing based on customers fronting the cost is certainly unusual. However, a changing industry environment requires changing business practices, and I think this is a really cool way to get fans involved and ensure that releases are actually going to be profitable. Plus, DMP is getting more Tezuka manga out there, and that's all I can ask for.

For more information on Barbara, check out the great profile of the manga over at TezukaInEnglish, and make sure you pledge to the Kickstarter right here!

Lychee Light Club is a one-shot graphic novel from cult favorite Usamaru Furuya, based on the Tokyo Grand Guignol theatre troupe's tragic 1985 play of the same name. It follows the rapid degeneration of this tightly controlled boyhood hierarchy, perpetuated by the successful activation of their robot, "Lychee," and his successful capture of a beautiful girl named Kanon. Amidst growing paranoia in the club, Kanon forms a strange connection with her robot captor, who has been programmed to believe that he, too, is human.

Lychee's greatest strength is its brevity; the one-shot format allows Furuya to tell a complete story with a surprisingly satisfying arc, all while driving home some biting social commentary. My first impression was that Furuya is commenting on Japanese sexual seclusion, most clearly evidenced by the boys' idolatrous view of girls. One says "I kinda can't believe it: a girl, right in front of me," and the dictatorial leader of the group, Zera, declares that "you must never look at her as an object of lust!" Intentional or not, it calls to mind otaku culture's "sexualization of innocence," as evidenced by moé anime and teenage idol culture.

Grand Guignol-style theatre is known for its gruesome violence, and this manga adaptation pulls no punches. A female history teacher who chances upon the Light Club is stripped and then evicerated for her crime, and a fellow student who makes the same mistake has his eyes burned out after a morbidly funny scene in which the boys brainstorm ways to punish their unfortunate captive.

These moments of quirky, black comedy are rare, but they are deftly incorporated into the story, such as a sequence in which Lychee brings back a series of inanimate objects and ugly people in a failed attempt to pinpoint what "beautiful girl" means. There's a fascinating (and horrifying) cognitive dissonance in laughing during a scene involving human beings who have been needlessly kidnapped to fulfill the sexual urges of a cabal of disturbed teenagers.

The two rays of light in this story are Kanon and Lychee himself, who, in working as a tool for the Light Club members' dark desires, becomes more human than they could ever be. By the end of the story, the friendship (and perhaps romance?) between Kanon and Lychee becomes a strong driving force, and manages to leave the reader with a satisfying conclusion despite the horrific events throughout the book.

Furuya's art is a perfect match for the subject, mixing super-high contrast shadows and highlights with intentionally ugly, androgynous character designs. He seems to delight in drawing hair and cloth in particular, usually depicting them as all-black with white highlights.

There's a lot going on in Furuya's macabre epic, from subdued commentary on industrialization (told through background art but never explicitly mentioned) to homoerotic experimentation (the boys fulfill each others sexual desires in absence of a female presence). If you can accept that all of Furuya's absurd violence, including people being flattened from the head-down, burned alive, snapped in half, and raped, is there for the sake of commentary and (in some cases) catharsis, not titillation, you will find Lychee Light Club to be a wholly satisfying, even ... fruitful experience.

	: "Hmm, I want to watch both Eden of the East and Baccano! - what to do?"
	: "Hey, Hey Elliot!"
	: "What's that?"
	: "Hey there!"
	: "What the?"
	: "Hey there, Elliot, we think you should watch Baccano!. That would be for the best."
	: "Why?"
	: "Well, look how happy we are! Don't you want to find out why we are happy, and be happy yourself?"
	: "I guess..."
	: "Do it!"
	: "Agh! Okay, okay."
	: "Excellent....."

It went something like that. What I present here is more something of a trip report than a full review.

Now onto the show itself. Having watched the main 13 episode series, I have come to regard Baccano! as a series of victories and small wonders, furnishing the viewer with a massively entertaining show that manages to satisfy without outstaying its welcome or stretching too far.

I will admit that until sitting down and watching it I have avoided all discussion or reviews of Baccano! (Including the Ani-Gamers review) as whenever someone has mentioned the show they have taken pains to point out that almost anything is a spoiler when it comes to the shows twisting plotline. I even avoided reading the synopsis on the back of the DVD set before watching. (I'm glad I didn't—whoever wrote the one on the Manga UK DVD set appears to have been drunk.)

To outline the show: set primarily in the early 1930s, Baccano! follows the exploits of a wide range of characters in both Manhattan and the transcontinental express train "The Flying Pussyfoot" as they all go about their personal business. The narrative jumps between different time periods and different characters with such frequency that the show's creators saw fit to make much of the first episode a primer for what is to follow. For most of this episode, Norio Wakamoto (with full R-rolling in effect) and his assistant prepare the viewer by discussing in a broad sense the different time periods, settings and characters that you are going to spend the following 12 episodes with, as well as showing the viewer some juicy snippets of what is to come.

This initially flummoxing first episode nearly turned me off of the show. It felt like a warning, telling me "Hey, if you aren't down with whatâs going on now maybe you should just give up and put this back on your shelf. Oh, here is a quick cut of a young boy getting shot in the head. Bet you're interested now, eh?" Then, at the end of the episode something awesome happens (that I won't spoil) and I was hooked.

To cut to the chase, the plotting works marvelously. The highest praise I can lavish on Baccano! is that even with all the switching of character, time period and setting, the entire plotline comes together into a coherent whole that is massively satisfying, like watching a good detective story. The timing and placement of character and time zone transitions feels meticulously thought out and perfectly judged to maintain viewer interest without causing confusion or irritation. When transitioning between different time periods the show will throw up a black static image with the year that the following events take place in - the genius of these cuts are that they act as welcome breathing spaces in the action, heightening tension. The presentation reminds me an awful lot of the Guy Ritchie film Snatch (2000), which also uses multiple viewpoints to weave together a coherent and thrilling tale. I was worried towards the end that Baccano! would contract a fatal case of "Dumb Anime Ending" syndrome, but I was proven completely and wonderfully wrong. The ending was not bombastic or laden with sudden twists, but was immensely satisfying and ties the disparate plotlines up wonderfully.

The characters themselves also do a lot of the lifting when it comes to drawing you into the story, in part because there are so damn many of them but also because they are genuinely interesting. One particular character is called Jacuzzi Splot, and when I first saw him, i hated his guts. He had a dumb tattoo, a whiny voice, and a melancholy outlook on life. His one redeeming feature was that listening to Japanese voice actors try and pronounce "Jacuzzi" was endlessly amusing. But after a few appearances I began to root for the guy as his development on screen was so engaging and interesting to watch. This happens a lot with the characters â you might not like them, but you come to understand them through their actions. I can honestly say that Baccano! is one of the few shows that have had me rooting for a mass murderer. Multiple mass murderers, in fact.

Not only are the characters interesting because of their actions, but they also look great. Everyone is stylishly drawn and with a great deal of care, something that really helps out not only in learning names but also in deciphering expressions and intentions of the cast and helping you connect with them. This ability to empathize with the characters really pulls you in, and I feel is best outlined by two of its best characters, Isaac and Miria. I love these two, so very much. Isaac and Miria are a pair of loud, boisterous, idiotic and immensely lucky thieves and the fact that they feel like believable characters while acting in such an absurd manner for their entire time on screen is a credit to the series. They are used just the right amount â too little and they would become a throwaway gimmick, too much and they would take over the show and ruin the magic.

I mentioned that the characters were stylish before. In fact the whole series is damn stylish. Every character, backdrop and action has style in spades. What makes this work is that the style is completely cohesive and well thought out to work as a single whole experience: no sudden SHAFT-style insanity, no winks at the camera, no snickering to itself behind the stage curtains. Every element presented on screen has a purpose and it was put there to contribute directly towards viewer enjoyment, drawing you into a coherent world that has a tangible feeling of authenticity to it.

To sum up my thoughts on Baccano!, after the end of the 13th episode in my third non-stop viewing session, I stood up to retrieve the DVD from the disc tray and thought to myself: "Wow. That was really enjoyable. I wish more things were made this well." I only regret I waited until I had to be pushed by Santa to actually sit down and watch it!

[Highly Recommended]

This review is based on the Manga UK DVD box set, purchased by the reviewer.

Boy Meets Manga

My introduction to One Piece hardly has any of the nostalgic glory of old-time anime fans' origin stories, as it starts sometime in 2003 or so (right in the heart of the mid-2000s manga boom). One of my middle school teachers passed out a Scholastic book catalog, and in it, glaring at me with all his silly intensity, was Yugi Moto from Yu-Gi-Oh! It was an issue of Viz's Shonen Jump, on sale in my school's catalog!

Naturally, after my experience with these cool Japanese cartoons on Cartoon Network's Toonami block (a frequent stepping stone for mid-'90s anime fans), I was excited to get my hands on the mysterious black-and-white comic book versions of the stories. Though I was hardly a fan of Yu-Gi-Oh! as a series, I was instantly hooked by two manga running in the magazine: Naruto and One Piece. They particularly grabbed me because I had never seen anime versions of them, unlike most of the titles in Shonen Jump.

Shortly after my first time reading One Piece (somewhere in the middle of Volume 2's Buggy Arc), I scrambled to pick up as much manga as I could get my hands on. I picked up the first two volumes of the terrible .Hack//Legend of the Twilight and received One Piece Volume 2 for my birthday. And with that, I was officially a fan of rubber-man Monkey D. Luffy and his crew of oddball pirates.

As a child of the Dragon Ball Z generation, I really felt a connection to Oda's Toriyama-inspired characters, stories, artwork, and sense of humor. Everything in One Piece, from the fights to the characters' dreams, is exaggerated, filled with a passion unparalleled by the actions of real people. For a wide-eyed middle school kid, new to the vast world of anime and manga lurking under the Toonami-glazed surface, Oda's powerfully kinetic yet inherently accessible work was just the kind of thing to propel me into full-fledged fandom.

And propel me it did! 2004, the year that marked my post-One Piece anime/manga obsession, also marked the creation of an overly ambitious little anime fan site called Anime Paradise, which would later become the Ani-Gamers you see today.

Boy Leaves Manga

It's pretty clear at this point that One Piece is one of the defining works of my personal manga fandom, but why did I stop reading it after all the passion I had invested into it? It's very simple, actually.

At AnimeNEXT 2008, I pushed my way to the nearest manga vendor and started rifling through the books on the table. As I had done for the past few years, I picked up the latest volume of One Piece (14 in this case) and got ready to buy it. But then it hit me. Looking at the volumes on the table, I took note of the books that I would then have to buy after Volume 14. I thought it over in my head — "One Piece isn't even finished yet in Japan, let alone in the US. Heck, I don't even know when this Baroque Works Arc is going to end. It could be ten more volumes for all I know!"

So, on that day, I made the fateful decision, on behalf of my wallet, to stop buying One Piece. Of course, since I am strongly opposed to manga piracy (har har), reading it online is out of the question, so that means I effectively decided to stop reading the series, period. Since then, Viz Media's American run of One Piece has reached 55 volumes, and it still hasn't ended in Japan. After re-reading the volumes I bought years ago, I really miss the Straw Hat Pirates and all their crazy adventures, but the prospect of restarting my collection is a daunting one.

Indeed, that's the ultimate tragedy of the paying fan of any long-running, ongoing manga series; continued dedication to your favorite story requires an inordinate amount of money and shelf space. Nevertheless, the boundless motivation of Luffy and his comrades serves as a reminder of the importance of doing what you love, regardless of the obstacles in front of you. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll finally follow Oda's wisdom, pick up One Piece Volume 14, and start this old journey up once again.

• Check out the rest of this month's One Piece-themed Manga Moveable Feast posts!
• Read Matt Blind's explanation of the Manga Moveable Feast

First of all, we are told very few solid details about about Yotsuba’s origin, and even her father is rather sketchy on the particulars. We know she is an orphan (as outlined in Chapter 6), but when pressed for details her dad tells us that he “met her while overseas, and just kinda started looking after her”. Fuuka fills in for the reader here by admitting that she doesn't really understand, but then something much more interesting happens (a thunderstorm) and the topic is dropped as Yotsuba runs outside to play in the rain. The main theory paraded around about this can be seen in a well distributed piece of fan-art that shows Yotsuba as a ragged orphan in a war-torn country. Whether this is anywhere near the truth, or even if there is a canon answer, is unknown.

We don't even know for sure what Yotsuba’s age is, and she and her adoptive father even have a confused conversation about it when buying a bike. Any mention of a mother goes right over Yotsuba’s head without comment, and the manga then typically shifts to a different and much more fun topic. It is refreshing to have a character without any parental issues present in their personality, and this makes it a lot easier to relate to the nostalgia present in Yotsuba&!. After all, no one wants to be reminded of the bad stuff in a whimsical tale.

Linking in with her origin is Yotsuba’s appearance. Many characters, especially incidental ones, question whether she is a foreigner upon first meeting her, a not unexpected reaction given what little we know of her origins, and also how she acts. There is an additional reason as well — her trademark green four-pigtailed hair. While crazily colored hair is nothing new in anime or manga, the world of Yotsuba&! is grounded in real life, and no one else has their hair in such an outlandish hue or style. Characters even marvel at the bizarre style, further re-enforcing how much the energetic little girl differs from the norm.

Then there are the more mundane, common sense reasons that make Yotsuba stand out. She never tires of looking for adventure each and every day, is enthusiastic about absolutely everything, and is for the most part impeccably behaved apart from the odd, endearing, and quickly forgiven mischief . Yotsuba is the perfect little friend to explore the world with, a fountain of endless curiosity and enthusiasm that makes the world a better place. Even her tantrums are (mostly) well founded, in stark contrast to normal children. (I remember being a selfish little brat myself when I was five-ish.)

Yotsuba is an outsider in her own manga, and it is because of this that the reader never gets sick of her antics. We don't know much about her, and don’t care to find out beyond the basics presented as it may disrupt the warm fuzzy feeling that the manga provides. Hell, what if Kiyohiko Azuma went crazy one day and decided that Yotsuba’s origin is that she is a 1,000-year-old vampire stuck in a tiny body? All the fun would leave the title faster than air out of a popped balloon.

Knowing nothing about Yotsuba lets us get on with the very important business of enjoying her company in her magical, whimsical adventures full of cardboard robots powered by money and flower cupids. It’s much better this way.

Once the children reach their 14th birthday they are taken unawares for a "Maturity Check", administered by a central computer. The Maturity Check functions as testing and preparation for the child's adult life, with some of the intricacies left unexplained to preserve the mystery of it. Sounds an awful lot like puberty, doesn't it? The main difference is that the Maturity Check doesn't cause hair to suddenly appear in new places, and if anything it makes the characters immaculately drawn hair even more lush. During this enforced coming-of-age the child is told that their childhood was a fabrication produced for the sole purpose of providing them with a healthy emotional background and that their early memories are to be wiped.

This forces an identify crisis onto the children, one which is intended to clear the way for training that will form them into pure subjects willing to work for and perpetuate the Superior Domination Order, with the aim of restoring the now-ravaged planet Earth under the guidance of the Mother Computer.

It is worth noting here that the phrase "Mother Computer" would, at the time that To Terra was written, have sounded utterly outlandish and more than a little disturbing. While computers these days are benign things you have on your desk, in 1977 the microprocessor had only recently been produced, ARPANET was new, and the CRAY-1 supercomputer was the machine to beat. This new technology would surely have had a vague air of magic and threat, and to hand over the most basic of human interactions — the creation and care of children — to such constructs would feel abhorrent.

Firstly, I want to focus on those characters in the story who I believe most closely mirror how "normal" people such as you or I would react in the SD system: Seki and Sam. Both undergo the typical SD upbringing and we meet them early on in the story as classmates of Keith Anyan on a educational station having recently undergone the Maturity Check.

Seki is an intelligent child, though he is earmarked for greatness and is prideful and arrogant as a result. He is emotionally sensitive and coupled with his outspoken distaste of the SD order he is considered a troublemaker and, even worse, a potential telepath. The source of his discontent is very basic and understandable; Seki resents the SD system for stripping him of his childhood, clinging onto the angelic memory of his mother despite knowing it was a fabrication. This grief accelerates Seki's frustration with his situation playing second fiddle to Keith and causes him to act in an increasingly impulsive manner to try and assert himself as an individual and to validate his upbringing. These actions spiral out of control, eventually leading to his death. For being intelligent and sensitive, the SD order drove Seki to self-destruction, wasting a potentially world-altering person due to its deception.

On the other end of the spectrum, Sam is dead average. He squeaks passes in his exams, neither dissents or swears by the regime that produced him, and doesn't sweat the small stuff. His main responsibility is to his friends, and sticks by Keith through thick and thin. An upstanding citizen, he graduates with average grades and takes a job as a space trucker, something that sounds even more boring than normal truck driving. Through this job he comes to meet the Mu and in particular the main protagonist Jomy, who he was childhood friends with. Faced with a filthy telepath, Sam acts upon the information that the computer education has drilled into him and freaks the hell out, attacking Jomy in a fit of primal fear. Jomy is horrified how his old friend has been warped and over-reacts, causing a massive explosion and injuring Sam.

We are later re-introduced to Sam and find out that this encounter has left him crippled at a mental age of 14. All the ingrained fear is gone, replaced by a much more carefree outlook. While this may be a bit of a stretch, I believe that this shows that the overbearing influence of the Maturity Check, illustrating that the computer education had left Sam without the mental tools to cope with adult life. The shock encounter caused him to revert to a simpler time without the choking influence that had warped him into a form so horrifying to Jomy.

Jomy, the main protagonist of the story, also goes through the normal SD upbringing experienced by Sam and Seki, and like them he is abducted at 14 to undergo the Maturity Check. For him, however, things change when he is rescued by the leader of the Mu and made their new leader. Faced with so much responsibility and hostility from both the SD order and from his own people, it would make sense for Jomy to seek a return to the halcyon days of his youth, even while knowing that it was a fabrication. For the majority of the story he tries to bring happiness to the Mu by creating a stable home for them, free from the overbearing computerized system that hunts them.

Following a major tragedy Jomy finally heeds his predecessors' imperative to bring the Mu to their homeland of Terra and to destroy the computer system that is warping humanity.

The first step on this journey is for Jomy to put his own past to rest by attacking his old childhood world and destroying the computer that oversees the Maturity Checks there. It it only with the destruction of that machine that Jomy matures both as a person and a leader, shouldering his burdens and doing what must be done to save. Not just his own people from the oppressive Mother Computer, but humanity as a whole as well.

One of those burdens is Tony, who is the product of the first natural birth among the Mu, and an exceptionally powerful telepath. Brought up with utmost love and care by his mother Carina, he is overcome with grief when she dies. The resulting shock causes him to overreact and accelerate his physical growth in order to be of greater use to Jomy, the young leader who encouraged his birth and whom he now regards as his family. This change makes him as an abrasive, irritable person who is still very much a child emotionally, traits exaggerated by being the cornerstone of the Mu military due to his immense psychic power. This combination of personality and ability causes Tony and the few others like him in the Mu population to be treated as outcasts. They eventually leave the Mu to begin a dreamlike existence among the stars, having grown up too fast without the grounding to cope with the harsh reality they live in.

Finally, there is Keith Anyan, who is perhaps the most interesting of all of the characters in To Terra. Keith is the result of a more advanced version of the SD program — he is engineered to have a theoretically perfect genome and grown in a tank until 16 under the direct care and attention of the educational computer. He cannot recall his childhood, something which sets him apart from his school friends, and when he discovers the truth there is an initial shock at the confirmation but no great change or revelation takes place. This is, in my mind, because there is no subterfuge involved. Instead of having an illusionary childhood life stripped from him, Keith is left to ponder his existence as someone created for the express purpose of leading the SD order. While he does follow orders of the computer, Keith develops throughout adulthood, free of any anxiety or doubts lingering in his mind about his origins. In the end, it could be argued that Keith has the fewest issues with his childhood, primarily because he did not have one in the strict sense, and he had no other alternative but to adjust to his circumstances. He spends a large amount of time reflecting on the people he has met throughout his life, allowing these events to affect him rather than being a prisoner to his childhood and the computer overlords that he starts to question as time carries on.

With all this out of the way, what was Keiko Takamiya trying to say? I submit that the message is that there should be no lies in childhood, as this only causes mal-adjustment and traps people in a cycle of trying to reconcile reality with what they experienced and viewed as fact, thus stunting their development. In this story the computers are one thing used to provide and enforce this lie, but they could be swapped out for any real-life examples that you care to produce, such as an overbearing Nationalistic agenda. Even now, many years after publication, this message feels very relevant and lacking in due consideration, making the series all the more important to read and reflect on.

But all of that changes when Shiro meets a girl named Riquinni Nonderaiko on a street corner as she hands out pamphlets about her religion, begging people to believe in God during these turbulent times. After discussing space travel and what it might feel like to leave the sins of Earth behind, Shiro is inspired to volunteer as the world's first astronaut. Unfortunately, as the rocket nears completion, the government begins to twist the original intentions of the project, attempting to use it to start a war with a rival nation.

Wings of Honneamise consistently ranks among one of the most beloved classic films in anime history — to the point that Bandai Entertainment America's top-quality DVD label is called "Honneamise." It's not a surprising position to hold, since the film is definitely a very poignant rumination on humanity and our relationship with technology and each other. Unfortunately, Honneamise is also the first major project from a brand-new studio, and it shows.

Now Gainax has always been known for their acute sense of aesthetics, and Honneamise is no exception. Despite the fact that this was their first project, the cityscapes and visions of civil unrest are at times comparable to scenes from Akira (1988), a film that was released a year later by the larger, more established Tokyo Movie Shinsha. When nothing exciting is happening on screen, there can be a noticeable drop in the framerate, but whenever an exquisitely animated piece of technology shows up, it's hard not to pick up on the love that the animators put into this project.

Such an attitude carries over to nearly every facet of this film. It is, without a doubt, a sci-fi flick made by fans for fans, with its lingering shots of engines and planes, and meticulously thought-out alternate universe (spoons are triangular, books open upwards, etc.). An unfortunate symptom of this inordinate time spent on presentation is that Honneamise is just too slow. It plods along, throwing some genuinely funny little moments between Shiro and his friends, but rarely shows anything — besides a botched assassination attempt — that gets the blood pumping.

Nevertheless, once it all comes to its powerful climax during the launch sequence, the entire first part of the movie is forgotten. This is what everybody has been waiting for — the characters, the audience, and yes, even the animators. The launch has a feeling of release, as the dreams of not only Shiro and Riquinni, but also humanity itself, are fulfilled. It’s a soaring, achingly beautiful climax, reminiscent in certain ways of many of Hayao Miyazaki’s most brilliant flying scenes. (1992's Porco Rosso being the most immediate comparison.)

In that moment, Honneamise is a surprisingly powerful film. If you ever dreamed of going to space as a kid, dreamed of staring back at Earth from hundreds of miles above the surface, Honneamise is a movie that is built for you. It is made by people who feel a childlike excitement at the thought of space travel, and their love for the subject shines through in every line of dialogue and every cel of animation. While not always a confirmation of technical skill or directorial vision, Wings of Honneamise stands among the few animated films that truly deserve the cliché of being called “triumphs of the imagination.”

[Recommended]

This review is based on a DVD borrowed from the Rensselaer Sci-Fi Assn. anime library.

Related Links:

• Gerald Rathkolb's review of the film on the Anime World Order podcast
• Jeff Tatarek's Wings of Honneamise AMV, featuring Pink Floyd's "Learning To Fly"

While vibrant and detailed, the art is completely ruined by rampant overcrowding. Characters, and their humongous heads, fight for precious little space against speech bubbles as well as all background elements or props in panel. The end result is a very hard-to-read mess that leaves you exasperated and grasping for clarity instead of laughing. In a more whimsical moment I imagined the art bursting out of its tight square confines and using the full page instead of the 4-panel model, something I believe would have benefited the series. In the infrequent moments when this does happen, the overall flow of the manga is a lot more enjoyable.

But perhaps I have it wrong. Maybe the series is not supposed to be amusing, but instead endearing — "moé", perhaps? After all, the manga is serialized in a seinen (young adult male) anthology in Japan. The all-female cast of cute, strangely-proportioned girls are all instantly forgettable despite multiple attempts to differentiate them from one another and establish them in the mind of the reader. There are two splash pages in the first volume alone dedicated to introducing the cast and their individual traits in the most straightforward manner possible, but even these failed to make an impression on me. I can say that, without hyperbole, I would put the manga down for five minutes to make some tea and in that short time I would forget the names of the entire cast. Part of the problem is that they are all so archetypal and bland that it is hard to take them seriously or bother taking notice of them. There is the tomboy, the nervous one, the childish one, the mysterious one, and the other one so nondescript that I can't even remember what her archetype is — let alone her name. All this made it exceedingly difficult to bring myself to become invested in the characters’ antics on the page or care about the lackluster jokes they made.

Finally, there is the possibility that the series is instructional, using the characters and attempts at humor to help you learn real-life artistic techniques. Sadly this falls victim to the ham-handed art and some downright confusing dialogue, which leaves you unsure as to whether the advice is sincere or not. This is not helped by multiple author notes imploring the reader not to take the artistic advice seriously.

All these problems quickly left me baffled, uninterested in the manga, and unable to determine the actual point and audience of the series.

It is hard to find more to say about GA, despite having read both volumes multiple times to ensure I was not missing anything. The whole series feels horribly confused, unsure of what it wants to do and unable to provide any enjoyment as a result. Had I been in my right mind I probably would not have bought these volumes, but then again hindsight is always 20/20. I really can't recommend it to anyone, and it should serve as a warning to people to keep a calm head on your shoulders when you are in a convention Dealers' Room lest you too end up buying a clunker of a manga.

[Terrible]

Unfortunately, when the explanation turns toward character motivations, Thompson's typically crisp and engaging writing can feel stiff and forced. There is even a series of panels that simply show thought bubbles from all four of the characters in the scene, establishing why each of them is playing Mages and Monsters. Thompson uses this sort of over-explanation throughout, and it frequently pulled me out of the story.

Nevertheless, Thompson is hardly shy with his use of references, despite the necessity for covering up names like Dungeons and Dragons and Pokémon with similar constructions like "Mages and Monsters" and "Gothemon." Aided by some of Hao's great visual nods to anime, manga, and video games, Thompson makes allusions to everything from Death Note to Final Fantasy to Taxi Driver to Monopoly, and even throws in what I believe is a very subtle reference to former Alaska Governor Sarah Palin.

Victor Hao reaches his best moments when his art stays within his own wacky-looking cartoon style. Many of the characters, most notably Shesh and Theo, are frequently portrayed with little dot eyes and gaping mouths, an American comic strip look that really seems to fit the story and allow for a number of surprisingly funny visual gags. However, the characters that are drawn in manga-style (typically women) end up looking like grotesque, poorly proportioned aliens. Such is the trap that most OEL manga artists fall into when attempting imitate a broadly defined cultural style rather than focus on their own unique aesthetic. To make matters worse, the comic seems to be a victim of a tragic screen tone explosion, leaving some of the pages cluttered and hard to understand on a first reading.

Despite some of its artistic shortcomings, King of RPGs really is a fantastic read. To be honest, I read this during a car ride with my family, and they were all very annoyed that I was laughing out loud literally every minute or so of the ride. That's about as good of a recommendation as any comedy can get.

great.

Who would have thought that Paper could make a cool power? We've seen spiderpowers, invincibility, super-strength, but never the ability to control paper. Luckily, Read or Die, based on the manga of the same name, makes this power work, which makes up for other errors in the plot.

Yomiko is the driving character of this series, in both her sincerity and likability and her awesome power. She is completely trusting of her teammates, and seems a little weak sometimes. However, when her friends (or her books) are in trouble, "The Paper" jumps into action.

And some action it is! Yomiko's power is so cool that one can enjoy the entire show simply on its merit. She carries around a large suitcase full of sheets of paper. When she allows these to fly out, Yomiko can send them flying at enemies, sharpen them, and change their shape. Throughout the series, she finds very unique ways to use this power, which is one of R.O.D.'s best features. Sadly, Yomiko falls into the problematic rut of moe, oftentimes acting unrealistically cute and clumsy.

As for the other characters, they are undoubtedly cool, but lack a lot of depth. Miss Deep's powers, though unoriginal, look amazing and are used for some awesome fight scenes. Drake and "Joker", the investigator and commander of the team, who stays at the British Library Base, are interesting and likeable.

With such a focus on action scenes and this fascination with very cool characters, its a good thing R.O.D. has good animation. As an OVA, it has high-quality animation. Everything moves smoothly, and the action scenes are incredibly kinetic and action-packed. Character designs are usually very bright and distinguishable, and the backgrounds fit in nicely with the show's bright, lively tone. The final episode has some of the coolest, best animated work in the entire OVA, showing off some very original and fun fight scenes.

The voice acting is pretty good, with some of the most natural performances given to Drake, Joker, and Miss Deep. Yomiko's voice is high and unnatural, furthering her moe categorization.

As soon as the opening begins, Read or Die makes it clear that it intends to have some really interesting music. Combining motifs from Cowboy Bebop and James Bond, the opening shows us people shooting, sillouettes of women, and plays an energetic Jazz peice that will remind viewers unstoppably of Yoko Kanno's classic Bebop opening, Tank.

Of course, Read or Die has its faults. Namely, the plot is contrived and often is full of plot holes and unanswered questions. Even so, this is perfect popcorn entertainment. With only 3 episodes in this OVA, each with some very sharp animation and amazing fight scenes, this DVD is perfect as some mindless entertainment on a rainy day with some friends. Read or Die hands us a paper-thin plot, where the superficial action written onto the paper is much more important and interesting than the paper itself.

Animation:		3.5		Average: (3.0 stars)
Plot:		2.0
Voice Acting:		NR
Sound:		3.5
Overall:		3.0

In June of of 2002, Piro announced that Largo had officially left Megatokyo. His final strip, contained in Megatokyo volume 2, was published to the site on February 4th, 2002. Citing major creative differences, Fred and Rodney decided that it was "better for Megatokyo" for them to split and leave Piro in charge of everything. Largo was given money in exchange for him selling all rights to the property to Piro.

For a time, Fred Gallagher is able to keep up the momentum created together by himself and Rodney Caston. Through the second volume through most of the third one, we are kept entertained by Largo's insane antics. Piro's story becomes much more separated from Largo's, both in terms of distance and literary difference. Piro goes through a long line of emotional troubles, while Largo barely sees him during long bouts of fighting zombies and such. Early in this process, Fred keeps a very good balance between serious and humorous comics, so that readers of many types can still enjoy it. Nevertheless, after a while, he almost completely moves into emotional ground, even turning one of the characters into a love interest for Largo. This type of story can be enjoyable for fans of romantic dramas, but is often just sappy and whiney, due to its focus on nerds.

Of course, Shirt Guy Dom, Leave it to Seraphim, and other random in-between strips remain. These, especially the SGD ones, are usually the funniest things in the comic. I still check back with "the new MT" just to see if I can catch a new Dom strip.

As one would expect, Fred Gallagher's art becomes better and better the further the comics move. However, I would pinpoint his peak around the end of volume 2/volume 3. At this point, he reaches an equilibrium where his art looks like manga, but is not a blatant copy. It is also much better drawn and shaded than his earlier comics, but keeps the simplicity and cleanness that made the older comics so much fun to read. Eventually, his style progesses even more. While his ability to draw clothing and architecture gets even better the ore he draws, Fred also finds himself drawing bigger and more watery-looking eyes, making him look like just another anime rip-off.

The "Piro Era" of Megatokyo is a complicated time for fans of the comic. When Largo left, many fans stayed around just to see if Fred could keep up the original stuff the two created together. Eventually, many fans of the original joke-a-day style left, only checking back occasionally to see what's up with their once-favorite webcomic. Still others stayed, enjoying Fred's new, serious style. It boils down to a question of preference. While I enjoy the combined Largo-Piro style, and I do not like romantic stories, Fred does do some things better. Megatokyo finally focuses on one demographic, instead of scrambling for many of them at the same time. However, I feel that Fred still has not been able to make his romantic storyline as engaging as the humorous one from the early days. The "Piro Era" falls short compared to its predeccessor, but is still an interesting buy for fans of the series, and the 3rd volume will still entertain Lergo fans.

Art:		3.5		Average: (3 stars)
Plot:		3.0
Overall:		2.5

Megatokyo begins as a typical webcomic. Here you have your lazy and drunk gamer who speaks in l33t, your wimpy otaku, and a bunch of insane Japanese cultural points and things like anime and games to be the blunt of the jokes. However, the series works well with what it is given, and creates a quite enjoyable webcomic from it.

While the plot may seem rather cliched for a webcomic, the writers pull off gaming jokes that you expect Tycho and Gabe would have done to death really well. You can practically see the clashing ideas of Fred and Rodney as their characters go through their crazy adventures. Largo does or says something stupid, while Piro acts as his foil and makes us laugh at it. Occasionally, the roles are switched, but the jokes generally stay in predictable territory. Even though the jokes never go beyond any realms we haven't seen before, their delivery and inside perspective make this a joy for otaku and gamers. Of course, as the comic progresses, we begin to find mor original comics. Instead of following the story all of the time, we are treated to random (and often comical) looks into the lives of the writers. In addition, things like a rather amusing Penny Arcade parody sneak in there as well. Then, of course, there is "Shirt Guy Dom." Dom Nguyen is a friend of Piro and Largo who helps out with Megatokyo and occasionally...draws stick comics with a trackball when Piro can't draw something that day. While Fred, Rodney, the general readership, and even Dom himself considers these to be the most powerful image of evil in the universe, these comics are undoubtedly some of the funniest in all of Megatokyo. Dom simply writes about events in his life, but his blatant self-parody makes the horrible artwork that much more amusing.

As for art, there is a single major difference in Megatokyo from most other webcomics. Fred draws his comics in pencil, traces them in pencil, and then scans them into the computer where he fixes them up. So, his final drawings end up as pencil drawings, a quite unusual approach for a comic. Nevertheless, his art has a very clear and expressive style. In addition, his experience as an architect allows for him to create very realistic-looking buildings and such. The panel layout begins with a simple yet effective 4-panel square layout, but moves to a harder-to-read, but more expressive manga one later on. Fred creates a pseudo-manga that does not look like an imitation. The influence is there, but almost never overwhelms the reader. There are some problems with his art, though. As good as he is with architecture, Gallagher still has trouble with human anatomy and facial structure. Luckily, his skills progress quickly throughout the comic.

Megatokyo is a very simple webcomic at the "Largo Era" stage. Piro's art is gaining skill, while the two work together well to make jokes that are both absurd and clever. This can make mainstream viewers laugh, while true nerds will find the workings of Piro and Largo's world to be even funnier. Megatokyo volumes 1 and 2 are a great buy for fans of webcomics, and extras like commentary on the bottoms of all of the 4-panel strips make it even more enjoyable.

Art:		2.5		Average: (3.167 stars)
Plot:		3.5
Overall:		3.5