Mono no aware

The idea of taking on an online persona to escape the pressures of Real Life is hardly a new one. I found the effects of teen angst in the Internet Age in All About Lily Chou-Chou to be both effective and deeply moving, despite cultural barriers between me and foreigners a decade younger than I am. Taking this angle and running with it, Hiroshi Ishizaki’s light novel Chain Mail examines how the isolation and pressure of adolescence draws four total strangers together with fascinating results.

If you’re reading this blog at all you ought to be able to understand where Chain Mail is coming from with this. After finding it tucked away virtually unseen in the manga section of my local Waterstone’s and buying on impulse, I suspect the only people I know who’d appreciate its innovative ‘multiple viewpoint’ storytelling as I did are those I converse with online. The ‘net and the artificial realities it provides attract us all for very personal reasons but the overall promises of diversion and communication are the same.

I’m always wary of spin-offs and retellings that aren’t done by the original writer or artist; particularly so when the story is one of my personal favourites. As much as I admire Makoto Shinkai’s Hoshi no Koe OAV I’ve always felt it had some room for improvement, but wasn’t sure whether anyone else could recreate what made it so special. There’s no denying that it was a tantalisingly short piece in the first place, which is all part of its charm really, but I was still intrigued by what could be done in a different format without the restrictions imposed on the film that it’s based on.

A couple of years ago the single-volume manga adaptation was fairly easy to find but I’m assuming it had a limited print run because it’s a bit rare these days. I quite like the effort Tokyopop went to with the presentation though – the panels at the beginning of the opening chapter are reproduced in full-colour, which is a nice touch.

“As I was watching Evangelion, up until about the fourteenth episode, I remember thinking ‘Ahh! Everything I’ve always wanted to do has been done! I don’t have to do anything any more! Anno and his crew have done it all for me!’” admits Hiroki Endo, in the Afterword to the first volume of Eden: it’s an endless world!, as he shares his thoughts on how certain titles set the standard but at the same time can never capture your own individual emotions and ideas. I know exactly where he’s coming from: had everyone resigned to the notion that there would never be anyone to top Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton might have thrown in the towel and Stevie Ray Vaughan may never have bothered either. How could the evolution of guitar music ever continue?

As in all genres of popular culture, there are classics in the science fiction genre and their shadows loom over everything that follows them, but that should never deter newcomers from offering their own input. The biblical references and ambitious, post-apocalyptic premise suggest that Endo is indeed enamoured by Evangelion and similar iconic series but those ‘overflowing feelings’ he refers to provide a stable launchpad for the concepts behind Eden…. In the eighteen chapters I’ve read so far it encompasses the well-worn themes of eco-fable, philosophy, military thriller and hard sci-fi while still feeling fresh and gripping. It’s Relevant To My Interests on so many levels.

There’s still a lot to be said for the good old-fashioned medium of words stamped onto slices of dead trees. I honestly believe certain stories work better in one medium than another; Haruhi Suzumiya is I think a case in point. The TV show’s shuffled broadcast order never significantly improved the experience because I’ve yet to hear a convincing explanation for it. The translation of the light novel on the other hand seems to keep an ordered chronology as nature, and Nagaru Tanigawa, intended and is more satisfying for that.

The prose reads smoothly and I’m pretty impressed with the presentation too (my only regret is not getting the hardback version. I’m anal about such things). What makes an even bigger difference than its adherence to the timeline, or the fact that it retains Noizi Ito’s original illustrations, is the first-person narrative approach that the novel takes. Unlike the TV broadcast order, which came across as little more than a cool gimmick, this detail makes the world of difference.

Satoshi Kon’s animated adaptation of Tsutsui’s novel Paprika shouldn’t need much of an introduction; at least I hope not since I can’t give an objective view on the film given the immense amount of respect I have for Kon as a director. I’m glad I found out about the English translation of the novel though, not least because Tsutsui is apparently one of Japan’s most well-known science fiction authors; he has a reputation for being notoriously outspoken and prolific, and even wrote the original Girl Who Leapt Through Time. I like him already.

Before launching into the post proper I must admit I found the film more enjoyable than the novel, even putting my love of Kon’s style into account. A story that melds dreams and reality works better for me on screen and I found Kon’s take on the plot (as condensed as it was) to be a bit more cohesive. It captured the spectacle of dreams more effectively, and the mystery of the antagonist(s) was held out longer. That said, Tsutsui’s version is still worth a read whether you’ve seen the film or not.

I love Bakemonogatari. From the Heavy Crab, through the clever twist to the Lost Snail, the truth behind the Monkey’s Paw and the tension of the Snake Constrictor, it’s a visual treat and provides a metric fucktonne of characterisation and cinematography that I could wax lyrical on for ages. Except I won’t. First, it’s spoilerific. Second, I think I need an entire post just to explain why I find Hitagi Senjougahara to be awesome before even outlining what makes everything else about these episodes so great.

I would hardly dare to argue

Granted, she doesn’t appear much in the middle portion of the series, but trying to make sense of the Senjougahara Fascination phenomenon became a bit more important when I found myself a part of it. What the hell is this? Am I developing a 2D complex? Well, yes. And no. Idle thoughts coming up.

A long time ago I saw a single-page scan of what looked like a one-off doujin Death Note parody where a kid made it his mission to masturbate daily in a girls’ toilet at school. His triumphant “Just as planned!” was amusing enough but I assumed it was a throwaway piece of toilet humour so after forgetting what blog I saw the pic on I thought nothing more of it. That was until the community word-of-mouth thing featuring Ghostlightning, David and Samshiel among others jogged my memory. The doujin in question was Onani Master Kurosawa and it proved to be more than just dirty jokes and a parody or two. A hell of a lot more.

Click for the full size version

Make no mistake: this is a story with strong language and shows events and behaviour that are liable to offend some. It has some wonderful bits of humour though, including neat jabs at not only Death Note but Haruhi Suzumiya and Code Geass, but what makes this something I’d recommend so strongly is the fact that the superficial lulz accompany something more memorable and moving. If you excuse the pun, I never saw it coming.

As far as fans of sharp, contemporary Japanese psychological thrillers are concerned, Ryu Murakami is often the first names that spring to mind. Quite rightly too considering he wrote the original novel of Audition and has several of his other works published in English in recent years: I have to say I really enjoyed Audition and can easily see how it was made into such a popular film (which, to my shame I STILL haven’t seen). In the Miso Soup is in some ways pretty similar but interesting in aspects I never expected; I don’t see it as such a good contender for on-screen adaptation though.

The story follows Kenji, a young freelance Tokyo tour guide who takes an American businessman called Frank around town on a ‘sex tour’ of the city’s nightlife during the lead-up to New Year’s Eve. There are one or two things that seem amiss with Kenji’s new customer from the start but Kenji rejects the alternative of a quiet time with his girlfriend in favour of some much-needed work. He soon begins to regret his decision to accept this lucrative offer when a darker and more dangerous side to Frank begins to emerge.

[Moved from my soon-to-be defunct side-blog because 1. I still haven't had time to write anything new and 2. it's more Relevant To Your Interests on this one.]

Hitomi Kanehara is an interesting lady. As I always do when reviewing an author for the first time I make a point of reading the biography blurb at the beginning of the book to get a feel for his or her background; Kanehara’s is, to put it mildly, unconventional. Her status as a professional writer, although it was aided by the endorsement of well-known author Ryu Murakami whose edgy and controversial works bear quite a similarity, is still surprising given her early life and education. Considering how Autofiction is focused on a twenty-something female writer who also had a turbulent adolescence you can’t help but wonder where the inspiration for this striking novel came from.

This possiblility that the book’s title should be taken literally is dangled in front of the reader’s nose from the outset but whether it’s a clever bluff on Kanehara’s part is something I wouldn’t hazard a guess on. Anyhow, the character of Rin and the events of her life are a fascinating if somewhat unsettling read: the first few pages pick her story up soon after her wedding, then successive chapters take up the narrative at points earlier on in her life. Telling stories in reverse is nothing new of course (taken to extremes in the likes of Memento) but in this case the approach serves to dig into the troubled psyche of the protagonist, peeling away layer after layer of insecurity and paranoia as it goes.

No sooner had the dust seem to have settled from the hype surrounding the Death Note franchise Viz published an English translation of the spin-off prequel novel, Another Note: The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases. Sifting through the rants and raves surrounding the original story I still look upon it fondly as a series that had an air of suspense, excellent artwork and a premise that posed a number of interesting moral questions. Its quality was diluted later on when the writers were forced to stretch the narrative past the L arc and introduce two new (inferior) antagonists to pit against the story’s anti-hero but otherwise it was a series that was both exciting and intelligent.

My only other beef with the series was the way in which it featured one of the most under-used Awesome Supporting Characters of recent times, in the form of Naomi Misora. Another Note remedies this (IMO) glaring oversight by dedicating an entire storyline to an earlier pre-Kira investigation in which Misora, still working for the FBI in LA, is called upon by the infamous freelance detective L in solving a bizarre series of murders. Basically we don’t see any of Light’s deranged JUST AS PLANNED megalomania: just Misora teaming up with L and hunting down a crazed killer who dispatches of his victims in increasingly gruesome and deranged ways.