If I go to a Japanese bookstore and the book is actually physically there, then it costs less than asking the bookstore to import it from Japan.
This isn’t unexpected or surprising, but it makes me think that with any given manga series I’m going to have to keep an eye out on Japanese releases so I can buy the volumes without any extra shipping fees.
A tricky thing, this timing.
This happens fairly often, but one instance in particular that I remember comes from a recent issue.
On the cover, it mentioned something like “Top 10 Shojo Manga,” and I thought, hey, this sounds neat. It seems like they’re going to rate the top 10 shoujo manga of all time or something. Are they going to base it on popularity in America? Popularity in Japan? There are a number of small differences after all (the popularity of Fruits Basket, for example). I opened it to check just how they were going to approach this topic.
I could not find anything close to what they claimed. I don’t even remember what exactly it said, but it was certainly not what the cover claimed. It seemed to just cover whatever it is that they were showing in the magazine already, with maybe some blurbs about anime or live-action adaptations.
I hoped to find some opinions on titles in the shoujo hall of fame. I got nothing in return. Bleh.
I was at Kinokuniya today, and decided that while I’m there I should totally buy something. This presented a problem, as there are plenty of manga there I’d like to pick up, but I’d be worried about getting locked into a very long series (Otokojuku), or fear of spoiling an anime I’m already watching (Shugo Chara!) or might get more episodes at some point (Bamboo Blade).
So my policy was to buy volume 1 of something I had no idea about. Something I wouldn’t recognize off the bat or have any preconceived notions of. Not easy, when you spend a good portion of your day reading, watching, or reading about the stuff.
In the end I decided to pick up what appears to be a seinen manga called “La Sommelière” and it appears to be about a female bartender. You know, as opposed to a just plain Bartender. I haven’t read through all of it, but you can expect a review at some point.
In any case, I’m pretty glad with my purchase as it fulfilled my desire to give a new series a chance, so that I don’t come at it with any preconceived notions or feel I’m retreading any old ground.
(It also means that I have no idea how long the series is supposed to be, so I don’t feel bad about not buying much more of it.)
Konata is a surprisingly good character. There’s something very endearing about her and for a long time (since I finished watching Lucky Star), I wasn’t quite sure what it was, but now I know.
I’ve heard from numerous people that they think Konata’s popularity is because she has the same tastes as and acts like a male otaku. That’s not necessarily off the mark, but it’s a little too simplistic. The actual appeal of Konata is not simply that she’s an otaku, but that she’s an otaku who’s not afraid to show that side of herself in public.
I think there’s a fear within everyone (but particularly relevant to dorks) that if they reveal too much of themselves that people will think less of them. They will either believe they cannot make any friends, or that their friends will stop being so friendly. Konata stands in the face of all that. Where most of dvd-and-figure-buying comrades falter, Konata is able to confidently declare to her “commoner” friends that yes, she loves Haruhi, yes, she goes to Comic Market, and yes, she is indeed an otaku.
Combined with some of Konata’s more poignant scenes, such as the Hirano Aya concert or some of her conversations with her dad, Konata shows that she’s not just an impossible ideal for otaku, but that it’s possible to both feel weak and strong at the same time.
Konata, one might say, is the opposite of Ogiue. However, unlike, say, Kohsaka from Genshiken, Konata doesn’t appear to be too perfect. Sure, she’s athletic, sure she’s friendly and outspoken, but in the end she is still genuine to her own interests, still has her own doubts and insecurities, and really isn’t that much different from the otaku from which she is derived.
I’ve made it a bit of a hobby within a hobby to pursue Otaku-themed anime, manga, and games. There’s the naive fantasy (Comic Party), the painfully cynical (Welcome to the NHK!), the awkwardly humorous (Otaku no Musume) and of course the cautiously optimistic (Genshiken), among others. But now there comes another player, Ressentiment, a story so drenched in ugliness and negativity that it is by far the most pessimistic of all the Otaku-themed works that I’ve seen.
…or is it?
Ressentiment takes place in the not-so-distant future. Takuro, a sad, pathetic, ugly 30 year old man living with his mom and working a dead-end job discovers the h-game. Except in this age of man, the h-game has reached unprecedented levels of realism, to the point that the girls in the games believe they actually exist within the context of their worlds.
Takuro purchases an artifical girl, Tsukiko, and expects what we all expect from these sorts of games: gratification be it instant or otherwise. Tsukiko, however, is an anomaly among virtual heroine-sex objects in that she already has someone she loves and spurns the advances of Takuro. An even bigger surprise is that when Tsukiko bites Takuro’s hand, the pain and effect transfer over to reality. This is Not Normal.
Takuro must deal with the fact that he has now been rejected by women not just in real life but also in what should have been a fantasy world. The truth of Tsukiko’s highly irregular programming is also slowly revealed.
The thing that keeps me from saying that Ressentiment is totally sad and depressing and a completely negative outlook on the otaku is that while much of the focus is on otaku trying to escape from their own sad lives, it’s not just otaku whose lives are ugly. Practically every character, even the attractive ones, have their own crippling issues to deal with. The characters have horrible personalities, horrible habits, and even horrible hygiene, but they all to varying degrees have to butt heads with reality in their own ways. While the otaku’s fantasy world is very plain to see, the other characters have their own ways of escaping their lives. In a sense, it’s easy to say that the otaku are pathetic, but everyone else is equally pathetic. And to be pathetic on some level is to be human. Those who try to deny this fact are given the harshest wake-up call of all.
To steal a quote from Kino’s Journey, “The world is not beautiful, therefore it is.”
It remains to be seen if the characters themselves ever realize this.
While this site isn’t called Eureka Maniax, it would have been a close second. I really, really like Eureka Seven, and I’m always eager to get my hands on anything E7-related.
Eureka Seven: Gravity boys & Lifting girl is sort of an unusual title, in that it is part of the greater Eureka Seven canon, but its place in the timeline is as a prequel to the Eureka Seven PS2 games, New Wave and New Vision.
GB&LG takes place during a time of peace, before the Ref board was even considered for use on LFOs. Sumner Sturgeon, 14 years old and youngest son of the prestigious Sturgeon Family of military officers, has spent his whole life being spoon-fed through privilege, but he wishes to be known for more than just his last name. Ruri, also 14 years old, is a girl with an incredible talent for Ref-ing (or Lifting as it’s called in the English translations), but who has to disguise herself as a boy named “B.B.” as women aren’t allowed in competitions. An abrupt meeting between Sumner and Ruri sets both of them on their respective paths to adulthood as Sumner chases the images of B.B. and the girl and the independence they represent, not knowing both are the same person.
Volume 1 of GB&LG focuses primarily on their daily lives as 14 year olds in a time of relative peace. Volume 2 sees them grow to adulthood and enter the military, setting up the beginning of New Wave. Renton was also 14 years old when he first met Eureka and joined Gekkostate, and this is a very deliberate move on the manga’s part.
Overall the manga has a very nice slice-of-life feel to it that the original anime is missing simply because of the context of the series and the utter importance Eureka and Renton have to fate of the world in the anime, where even fairly episodic chapters have much greater ramifications. Obviously, that also applies to GB&LG to some extent, especially because its events trigger the PS2 games which in turn influence the anime, but not much of that is seen. The focus is on mainly the characters and not the world around them.
In this respect, I like Volume 1 more than Volume 2, as Volume 2 feels rushed and disjointed, as if it’s racing to position all of the characters in time for New Wave. It gives no time for the events, big and small, to really sink in, as the reader is instantly whisked off to another place and possibly another time within a few pages. It’s something that I think would have been better served being split into two separate volumes.
That said, I do recommend it, and I like it more than the Eureka Seven manga adaptation. However, don’t expect the story to be as epic as either the main anime or manga, because it isn’t. Treat it like a normal story of school kids, who barely know of LFOs, trappar, or their true natures.
While looking in the bookstore the other day, I saw that the English version of Mousou Shoujo Otakukei (otherwise known in the US as “Fujoshi Rumi”) had its second volume out.
Then I noticed that the Japanese release of Mousou Shoujo Otaku-kei is only up to Volume 3, though obviously the story has progressed further at this point in the actual Comic High.
I wonder then, just how often is this happening nowadays? How often is the English release of a manga only 1-2 volumes off from the Japanese release? It seems like a really weird position to be in, though in many ways beneficial.
This also brings up another question: How many manga these days are being licensed within only 1-2 years of the original Japanese release? Doesn’t it seem a little too soon? Not to knock Mousou Shoujo, but it never seemed like the HOTTEST NEW THING straight from Japan, though I have to admit that it’s gotten better.
This also makes me wonder if part of the reason manga does well where anime DVDs don’t is that, in some cases, the releases aren’t that far off so people don’t miss out on too much?
Actually, it’s probably because you can immediately look at a manga in the store to gauge whether or not it’s worth buying on a per volume basis, while DVDs have no such luxury, as even netflix has to be an active decision rather than just “browsing for anime.”
That is to say, I have developed a new pet peeve: Seeing manga and anime translations which try to make the dialogue more Japanese-sounding.
I don’t remember exactly where I saw it, but I recall seeing an English-released manga which translated one girls scream as “Kyaaaaa!” This is common, of course, except for one problem: She didn’t say “Kyaaaaa!” in the original Japanese text.
I don’t mind honorifics in translations or anything like that, but when you go out of your way to add things which weren’t even there then it is a step too far.
I remember the first time I saw Raoh, with that huge stallion between his legs. I was in awe. This would begin a long journey where I found and understood myself.
A lot of Raoh’s appeal can be summed up in the battle where he stabs through his foot and Toki’s foot at the same time. I doubt anyone would argue with me when I call it the greatest foot kebab scene in anime and manga history. Raoh is willing to sacrifice his own foot, his most cherished companion since infancy, just to teach his younger brother a loving lesson (though Raoh forgets to mention at the time that Toki is his brother. Oh, Raoh, you’re so aloof).
Raoh, receive the fist that contains all of my love.
I’ll let the people running it explain it in their own words.
“Given the exponential growth of the anime blogosphere, the number of quality blogs with insightful opinions and perspectives are ever increasing. Yet a majority of the blogs out there remain isolated, lacking a sense of community and meaningful interaction. The Anime Blog Awards was created in order to bridge that gap by recognising worthy bloggers and their achievements in various fields.”
It’s an interesting idea, and though I’m not sure if I will participate in it, do not by any means let that keep you from voting. This sort of audience participation is what I think this community thrives on, provided it doesn’t become too political.
So if you are a blogger who blogs about blogs anime, then let it be known which blogs you think represent us the best.
It starts April 1st, so get nominating.
