|
SPOTLIGHT ON MANGA
Unless you've been living in a cave, you've heard all the stories about the rise of manga. Sales are booming, bookstores are stocking them heavily and it has managed to capture that elusive teen female audience that comics has never managed. Truthfully, covering manga is more the job of a completely different site, because there's a wide variety of material available. However, we've had occasional requests to cover manga, and I have some lying about the house as well as a few that have caught my eye recently, and thus, this column. This time out, I'm covering a prose book about a dozen different manga artists, a translated book from Japan courtesy of Dark Horse and three OEL (Original English Language) offerings from Tokyopop. With any luck, I'll update later in the week with a couple more Dark Horse manga that I haven't had a chance to read yet.
 Given my own neophyte status, it seems appropriate to start this column off with a look at a book written by an expert. If you're a novice manga fan just dipping your toe in these waters, this column might give you a few suggestions to check out. If, however, you're already a big manga fan looking to expand your tastes, I would definitely recommend Manga: Masters of the Art. Timothy Lehmann, an artist and journalist, talks in his introduction about falling in love with manga about 10 years ago and seeking it out, and it's clear in that time that he has learned quite a bit about the form. Manga: Masters of the Art owes equal parts to his love of the form and his reading of Mark Salisbury's Artists on Comic Book Art, and given that Salisbury's work has made for some of the best behind-the-scenes/interview books in comics, that's a pretty good pedigree.
Manga: Masters of the Art is all about range, as Lehmann talks to a couple of big names but also interviews a few who won't be as familiar except to the diehard manga fans. Of the dozen artists (or artist collectives) interviewed here, I've heard of five and only read two. Reading through the interviews and preview pages, it's clear that a lot of the best work of these creators have never been translated, or at least not professionally so. This is manga as viewed through the eyes of a true believer, someone who has sought out a variety of artists working in a variety of styles and genres, and he's not just aiming for the popular crowd. The selection is more like the kind of thing you get with DC's Solo or Twomorrows' Modern Masters series, a look at those who have polished their craft over years of work.
This of course makes it sound like Manga: Masters of the Art is going to be inaccessible and off-putting for the manga novice, but in fact it's quite the opposite. Lehmann's enthusiasm for the form is clear and infectious, and his interview style, starting with nonspecific questions and zeroing in on specifics tailored to each interviewee, draws the reader in and unveils twelve separate manga artists in a way that even a manga neophyte can enjoy. In a fashion similar to that of Mark Salisbury's work, the interviewees often open up and provide a lot of information or entertaining anecdotes in response to Lehmann's questions, and so it's much more of a give-and-take exploration of the process than many interviews. Lehmann's own experience as an artist serves him well, allowing him to explore questions that someone without that skill might not be able to articulate, and he manages to explore the nitty-gritty of artistic endeavors while keeping things light and approachable for non-artists as well. Maruo Suehiro's interview is something of an exception to the rule, and even Lehmann himself notes that Suehiro's solitary nature leads him to give short, clipped and clearly uncomfortable answers, so that his interview is a bit disappointing, but the rest are fascinating insights into the manga artist mindset. To his credit, Lehmann keeps at Suehiro enough to get a few interesting tidbits, even though the artist clearly would rather be doing anything else than answering questions.
In addition to an insight into these artists, Manga: Masters of the Art provides a visual key to their styles and their work. There's a gorgeous (and all too short) full-color section in the middle, but there are also copious black and white excerpts of work and sketches interspersed with the interviews. These selections, and their accompanying text, help to reinforce the personality of the artists, showing off their largest or most well-regarded works and pointing out themes or important moments in their lives and their work as well. Each artist profile is also finished off with a bibliography of their major works, top picks, websites to find out more and a two-page photo spread that shows off their tools and work area and includes a text rundown of their "tools of the trade." This is a comprehensive look at the manga artistic process from twelve individuals, with only the slightest filtering going on thanks to Lehmann's point of view. Lehmann injects enough of his personality and expertise to keep things clear, entertaining and informative, but never lets the book become about how he sees manga, instead allowing the artists to open up to the readers.
It's incredibly difficult to put these types of books together, as there are any number of potential pitfalls. It's a lot of information to put together, and it's not easy to decide whether to aim for the novices or the experts. Lehmann has created a book that is a perfect primer for the manga neophyte or a "next step" guide for those who have already jumped head-first into the wide world of manga. It's a love letter to an industry, but it's accessible to those who have had at best a casual flirtation with the industry, and it's detailed and thorough yet light, readable and entertaining.
 What is it about manga that makes it so fitting for tales of the post-apocalypse? Whether it's the battered Neo-Tokyo of Akira, the dystopian murderworld of Battle Royale or the killing fields of Battle Angel Alita, one of the genres that manga artists seem to really do well is post-apocalyptic science-fiction, and Eden is another fine entry in this tradition. This volume is almost more prologue than anything, spending a good chunk of time on the virus that overcomes the world and an enclosed think-tank trying to find a cure, but it's a fascinating setup, and when Endo delves into this new world, overgrown with natural vegetation and sparsely populated, he starts to build a very interesting world. The relationships between characters and the political state of the world outside are a little more murky then I would have preferred, but there are some very memorable moments and gorgeous, detailed artwork throughout.
Eden volume one really offers several different stories, different sets of characters and even different settings. The first hundred or so pages are a tale mostly of how this new world came about, as we see a scientist and his best friend in the context of a secluded project that is attempting to find a cure for a deadly virus. Endo never really shows us the world outside, instead having characters describe in bits and pieces the state of the world. Eden isn't about the apocalypse... much like The Stand, it's about what happens to the world after this disaster hits. However, those first hundred pages feature a lot of backstory on how the virus came to be as deadly as it was, and presents an enigmatic political conflict in the midst of it. Endo's story is a bit unclear on whose agenda the virus was, implying corruption in the United States government and the United Nations and presenting a terrorist group named Propater that seems to have malevolent goals as well. Truthfully, I wish that he'd spent either more time on it and explained it more clearly or left it alone completely, because the actual story of the virus, and the personal betrayals of lead characters Layne and Chris, don't come through as strongly as they probably should have, but there's enough interesting tidbits to make the story readable at any rate.
Endo is at his best, however, when he's dealing with the post-virus world of Eden. His protagonists are often relatively young children, representing a sort of innocence and a new start, which is a big theme in the story of Eden. There's a question raised often by various characters as to whether humanity needs the "reset button" pushed, and part of the ambiguity of the early story is definitely a result of wanting to show off the corruption on the parts of everyone involved in the story, no matter how noble their motives. By contrast, the protagonists are pretty clearly good, worrying about the morality of survival issues like hunting and doing their best to protect those close to them. These protagonists, notably Elijah and his father Enoah, are not saints, what with using weapons to murder others or keeping secrets, but their goals and methods seem less morally ambiguous than those of their parents and guardians, always driven by at worst a thirst for knowledge and at best a desire to protect those they care about.
One of the reasons I say Endo is at his best in the post-virus world, however, is the artwork. Endo's artwork is amazing, packed with tons of detail, easily comparable to the work of Katsuhiro Otomo or Matsamune Shirow. Lovingly crafted technology, expansive backgrounds and expressive characters make for a world that the reader can easily get sucked into. Endo doesn't use a great deal of exaggeration, sticking with a fairly photo-realistic look, but he uses this realism without stiffness, as he's perfectly capable of memorable (in fact, quite bloody) action sequences as well as vast shots of post-apocalyptic landscape.
 Psy-Comm is a story in the tradition of Robocop, Total Recall and Starship Troopers, presenting a futuristic world that explores the worst aspects of a corporate-heavy society with an obsession with violence. The establishment is corrupt, and the point-of-view is that of characters who serve that establishment but who, by virtue of their low ranking on the totem pole, still have a link to the common man, and thus become perfect figures for rebellion. Henderson, Salvaggio and Granger don't delve too deeply into the structure of these "wars for entertainment" that drive the premise of the book, instead using that as the backdrop for a tale of personal evaulation and change, as our lead character's conscience nags at him, making him wonder if his role in these corporate wars isn't the wrong one to be playing. Of course, this is a science-fiction war story, so this personal conflict plays out alongside a ton of imaginative action sequences.
While Psy-Comm is military science-fiction, it has a little touch of the superhero genre in it as well. The Psychic Commandos that give the book its name are not minor telepaths or telekinetics, but full-fledged superpowered operatives who can telekinetically force down planes, predict the course of battles and light up enemy aircraft with personal lightning blasts. We're talking superhero level powers here, and that makes for some exciting action sequences, courtesy of Granger. Granger makes great use of speed lines to convey the speed and power of these conflicts, and while he doesn't tend to do a lot of crowd scenes, he has a good feel for wartorn backdrops and the occasional high-tech tank or plane. Don't expect massive engagements on the level of Akira or Nausicaa, but Granger definitely gives the warfare the right sense of scale.
Of course, while the Psy-Comms battle it out in large scale engagements, they also take part in smaller missions as well, and it is on one of these more covert missions that the big event of Psy-Comm Volume 1 takes root. Mark Leit, the psychic who is the lead of this book, is driven by guilt over the loss of a teammate and clearly has some moral issues with the job of corporate soldiering. Henderson and Salvaggio play up the amorality of his teammate, and Leit is clearly no saint, as he takes place in the warfare easily enough, but it's also clear that guilt and doubt are driving him throughout, and thus the big climax at the end is perfectly in keeping with character. Psy-Comm takes place on the battlefield, but the focus is less on the wins and losses and more on how those battlefield maneuvers affect the soldiers.
RISING STARS OF MANGA VOL. 5
by Josh Elder, Erich Owen, Roald Munoz, George Alexopoulos, Ashley Cope, Jeong Mo Yang, Andrew Yi, T. Campbell, Amy Mebberson, Morgan Luthi & Michael Shelfer (Tokyopop)
 The Rising Stars series is an anthology created by Tokyopop to show off new manga creators. Given that a big part of manga's appeal is decompression, it's got to be a unique challenge to create manga short stories like the ones in this volume, but overall, the creators do a pretty good job of introducing their concepts as well as telling a complete story in this short space. The entries in this volume cover a gamut of genre and style, and while they're all recognizable as manga, Rising Stars might be the easiest one-volume argument against those who think that all manga looks alike. Each artist brings their own art style to bear, and while there's a pretty heavy focus on humor in these stories, there's a pretty nice variance in genre and style overall.
As I understand it, the entries for these Rising Stars of Manga volumes are graded by Tokyopop editors and maybe voted upon, so that each volume includes a grand prize winner and then runner-ups. I'm not sure what the grand prize entails, probably a publication deal of some kind. That's the case for this issue's grand prize winner, "Mail Order Ninja" by Josh Elder and Erich Owen, which will be getting a three-volume series in the future. It's easy to see why this one was the grand prize winner, as Elder and Owen turn in a cute and hilarious tale of a young boy who, well, mail orders a ninja. There are a lot of funny little details, including the ninja sleeping on the bed like a dog or his appearance at show and tell, that really cracked me up, and the punchline of the book is a great commentary on the fickle tastes of a young boy and the absurdity of the premise. Very funny, very imaginative and well-drawn stuff... can't wait to see more.
There's some pretty stiff competition for "Grand Prize" in this volume, however, as there are several other memorable tales. "Baggage" by Roald Munoz is one of the non-humorous pieces in the book, a strange little tale about a man who removes people's inner demons and takes them into himself. It's an interesting philosophical concept, played out with monsters and horror imagery and a real-life setting that reminds me of some of Becky Cloonan's work on Demo. The story has a tone that can best be described as melancholy, and it's a good concept with plenty of life in it that reads very well in this short format. Also in the "real life" genre but without the magical elements of "Baggage" is "Can I Sit Here?" by George Alexopoulos, about the near-universal difficulty of working up the guts to talk to someone you like. Alexopoulos does a great job of externalizing what is usually an internal conflict, and his art style reminds me of Oni mainstays Eric Kim and Bryan O'Malley by turns, which is to say I like it quite a bit. Unlike "Mail Order Ninja" and "Baggage," "Can I Sit Here?" doesn't really have room to grow beyond the short story, but the same cannot be said of Alexopoulos, who displays plenty of storytelling skill in this perfectly-paced little bite of a story.
There is one other entry that is closer to the real world than fantasy, and that is runner-up "Pop Star" by T. Campbell and Amy Mebberson. That "Pop Star" is a runner-up is a pretty good indication of the caliber of talent working on Rising Stars, because this is a fun, funny and beautifully-illustrated story that neatly skewers pop culture princesses like Britney, Christina and Ashlee, all the while giving the whole thing a more outrageous twist. The heights to which fictional pop star Tina will go to in order to best her rival Bit Fencer are hilarious (one of them involves a chainsaw), and the awkwardness with which she tries to emulate is even funnier. Tina is shallow and vain, but she's so hapless that you can't help but love her. Mebberson's artwork is also a delight, with crack comedic timing and a light, attractive look that reminds me of one of my favorite artists, Takeshi Miyazawa. I'd love to see more from these creators.
The rest of the stories in the volume are fantasy in some flavor or another. "Chibi Zombies" by Ashley Cope is probably the most off-beat, a goth type of story about four zombies whose master goes into a magical torpor and what happens when their youngest member unleashes a wicked spirit on their new home. I freely confess that I'm not generally a big goth fan, but Cope's stuff is fun, more Addams Family than Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, and if her work can get a little cluttered, it's certainly attractive nonetheless. Tim Burton fans will definitely dig "Chibi Zombies."
"Modus Vivendi" by Jeong Mo Yang and Andrew Yi and "Seed" by Morgan Luthi are stories cut from the same cloth, fantasy manga cliches turned on their head with unusual protagonists. "Modus" suffers as it spends most of its time doing a pretty straight rendition of the sort of overwrought fantasy that it is spoofing, and the comedic payoff isn't quite strong enough to outweigh that, but it is a funny gag and an interesting commentary on modern values. "Seed," on the other hand, is a bickering sisters story with a giant robot thrown into the mix. It's cute but ultimately nothing that hasn't been seen before in dozens of other sibling rivalry stories, and a little bit short for the relationships and reversals required to really hit home. Both of these are solidly done, but they're not in the same league as the other tales, at least for me.
Finally, there's the online "People's Choice" winner "Blue Phoenix" by Michael Shelfer, which reads like the last chapter of a long-running fantasy epic. Like "Seed," it doesn't really have time to work as well as it could with more room to maneuver, but Shelfer presents a pretty resonant conclusion to a story we haven't seen anyway and his artwork is undeniably strong, closer to the Kia Asamiya school of things and perfectly suited for this kind of epic fantasy.
 I have to admit, I had a soft spot for Steady Beat in the first place because it's set in my hometown of Austin. That has very little to do with why I enjoyed Steady Beat, however, as it's mostly window dressing. The heart of Steady Beat is about the relationship between two sisters and their single mom, as well as a couple of very memorable supporting characters, and the central plot is about a mystery. Not a murder mystery or whodunit, but instead a mystery of personality, as Leah wonders if her sister is hiding a big secret about who she really is, and when she tries to find out, she falls into a strange little budding romance of her own. Steady Beat has a plot that wanders a bit, but it works, largely on the charm of Rivkah's lead character Leah and her attractive, energetic artwork.
Rivkah's story is meandering in some ways, but it's always seen from the point-of-view of Leah and so the end result is the impression that Leah's life is chaotic, but Steady Beat is fairly focused. Leah's life is fairly normal, and though there are a number of dramatic things that happen to her over the course of this volume, there's nothing that pushes her anywhere near the boundaries of fantasy. Instead, Steady Beat is more like real life with a quirky filter laid over it, a touch of comedy blended with melodrama to make a surprisingly compelling read.
Probably the biggest selling point of Steady Beat is not its premise, but its characters. The structure of the story is actually fairly straightforward, even if the wrinkles in the premise are a little bit unusual. The cast of characters, however, is very memorable. Leah's borderline hyperactive energy, embodied not just in her movements as depicted in the art but by the rapidfire pacing evident in her thoughts, makes her a great protagonist, and her natural intelligence shines through in the way she acts and talks as well. I also quite like Leah's mom and sister, and even from the relatively small glimpses we get of them, their characters come shining through. It's clear that Rivkah has thought through every one of the characters, that she knows them even if the reader doesn't yet. Of course, while I enjoy Leah and her family, the characters who steal the show are the unusual family of Paul, Elijah and his dad. Paul is a hilarious character, and yeah, he's in that "sweet, flamboyant gay guy" stereotype, but he's meant to be something of an over-the-top character, and he comes across as very likable and funny, perfect for a supporting role.
Along with great characters and compelling central mysteries, Steady Beat has terrific artwork. Rivkah's general style is clean and detailed, but it's clear that she has a fondness for the manga style exaggeration. That means big eyes, forced perspectives, outrageous expressions and a lot of bombastic movement, and it all works really well. If you boil it down, Steady Beat is about possibly having a closeted gay sister and meeting a boy, but Rivkah's storytelling sells it as something much more exciting, full of intrigue and outrageous moments.
Email Randy Lander comments about these reviews. |
