Once again, the Manga Moveable Feast is upon us, this month focusing on Ai Yazawa’s short josei series, Paradise Kiss (see Michelle’s introductory post here). As has become our habit (if, in fact, twice constitutes a habit), Michelle and I took the opportunity to discuss the series together, here in this week’s column!

MELINDA: As you might imagine, I’m quite thrilled with this month’s choice for the Manga Moveable Feast. Since we’ve each reviewed this series as a whole (me almost a year ago and you just this week), perhaps for today’s discussion we can take a moment to explore each of its main characters in-depth. I know I could talk about them for hours, and I’m curious to see how our impressions match up (or not). I certainly have my favorites and I bet you do too. Perhaps I’ll ask you to begin with yours?

MICHELLE: I think with Ai Yazawa there’s always a distinction to be made between characters who are excellently developed, three-dimensional people with fascinating flaws and characters who are one’s favorites by virtue of being just plain likeable. In the latter category, for example, I would place Isabella. She’s warm and nurturing, and completely devoted to George for accepting her as she is. If I had a problem, I’d like to pour my heart out to her while she made me some tasty stew.

But in terms of a character that one could simply talk about for days, I think I’d have to go with George. He’s maddening and unpredictable, but man, those moments when he looks hurt and vulnerable really pull at one’s heartstrings. It’s easy to see why Yukari fell for him.

MELINDA: It’s interesting that you bring up these two characters specifically, because I have such contrasting feelings about them. Isabella is my favorite character in the series by far. In fact, I even joked when this title was first chosen for the MMF that my contribution would be an essay entitled, “Why I love Isabella” (or something along those lines). Not only is she a wonderfully warm and nurturing character, as you mention here, but she’s also the one who is best able to see the truth about everyone else, unhindered by insecurity or personal bias.

Additionally, she’s just about 100% responsible for my ability to like George, which took a hell of a long time to develop, to be honest. It took me several times through the series to get over my deep intolerance of George’s refusal to take responsibility for his role in the lives of others, and it was only Isabella who was able to convince me that George’s unquestioning, immediate acceptance of her true self made him worth reconsidering. I’m not entirely sure why I have such an issue with people who are willing to form relationships with others but not participate in them fully, but I clearly do. Paradise Kiss taught me that much. Heh. In any case, if it wasn’t for Isabella, though I’d have to concede that George is an absolutely fascinating character, I wouldn’t like him at all.

MICHELLE: I felt that meeting George’s mother really helped me to understand why he’s so adamant about making Yukari make the big moves in their relationship. Eventually, she realizes that all those times she was waiting for him to call her, he was waiting for her to call him. So it’s not that he’s a bastard, it’s that he doesn’t want to be lambasted for all eternity as the source of another person’s misery.

To return to the topic of Isabella, though… although I’m happy, from a curious reader standpoint, that we did eventually learn her birth name, I can’t shake the feeling that it’s somewhat of an invasion of her privacy. I’m glad Yazawa didn’t go for the gag and show us Isabella in the men’s suit she wore for her job interview.

MELINDA: Oh, I understand why George is the way he is. I just think it’s cowardly and irresponsible. Part of loving someone (any kind of love) is accepting that you have influence in his/her life (whether you like it or not) and taking responsibility for that. Refusing to make any choices in the relationship in order to avoid future blame is not only cowardly but, frankly, mean. It’s also ineffective. The only way to ensure that you can never be blamed for your role in someone else’s life is to eschew human relationships altogether. The moment he kisses Yukari, he is officially responsible for the fact that he has the power to make her miserable, whether he wants to accept that or not.

Ranting aside, of course I realize that George’s flaws are what make him so interesting as a character, and as an admirer of powerful fiction, I wouldn’t want it any other way. But I can’t deny that this flaw in particular made it really difficult for me to like him. For whatever reason, it’s not a trait I find easy to excuse, even in someone as obviously damaged as George. It pushes my personal buttons, I suppose. Yazawa is pretty good at that. :)

As for Isabella… it’s really interesting to me that you felt you were invading her privacy by learning her given name. As for Isabella… it’s really interesting to me that you felt you were invading her privacy by learning her given name. I hadn’t even considered that. I suppose she’s so reserved and so sparing with how much of herself she reveals (understandably, considering the treatment she’s apparently had from her own parents) it felt like a little gift to me. But perhaps you’re right. Perhaps it isn’t one we should be given unless it’s by Isabella herself.

MICHELLE: You’re right, of course, in all that you say about his failure as a boyfriend. We do see him be a sweet and sensitive person at many times throughout the series, but as he says to Kaori, he just can’t help but be mean to the one he loves.

And speaking of Kaori, she turned out to be a much more welcome addition to the cast than I had originally anticipated. I love that although she’s attracted to George, she can tell he’d be a terrible boyfriend, and refuses to go down that road, no matter how much it pains her. I think that George values her too much to inflict himself upon her, anyway.

MELINDA: I absolutely agree about Kaori. I was poised to hate her and could not do it at all. And I think your assessment of George’s feelings there is spot on, too, though I admit my main reaction there, too, is to feel defensive on Yukari’s behalf. “So she’s not valuable enough to save?” I ask, shaking my fist at George.

MICHELLE: I find it hard to defend Yukari because the two of them really don’t work together very well; although her ugliness manifests in different ways, she’s often as bad as he is at causing strife.

But anyway, two characters we have yet to touch upon at all are Arashi and Miwako! When we first see Arashi, I was thinking, “Oh, here’s Nobu’s prototype!” And in some ways that still may be true—in his sweeter moments, particularly with Miwako’s niece, he’s a bit similar—but he’s also quite hot-headed, though this, too, is fueled by insecurity.

MELINDA: Hmmm, I’ll have to think about what you’ve said about Yukari, because I perceive her ugliest moments as being reactions to George treating her badly, and it’s hard for me to blame her for that. I have a lot of sympathy for anyone on the wrong end of an unbalanced relationship. It can make a person feel literally crazy, and someone like her, with no relationship experience at all, is going to be even more at a loss for how to behave. Though I’ll agree, they don’t work well together.

I had the same thought as you did when I first saw Arashi! For the most part, I think the resemblance ends up being more looks than anything else in the end, but I do love his sweeter moments, and I can see some seeds of Nobu there. I like both Arashi and Miwako a great deal, and I like their relationship a lot as well, even in its worst moments. I suppose where Arashi is a bit like Nobu is in his sincere devotion to Miwako. And though I might normally feel uncomfortable with that in the face of Miwako’s torn feelings, I feel like she is sincere about wanting to do right by him, even in the midst of her own confusion. That goes a long way with me.

MICHELLE: Yeah, I grant a lot of Yukari’s jealousy is caused by George, especially his refusal to unequivocally state what his feelings for her are. I think, perhaps, that I lack a similar affinity for those in unbalanced relationships, though I can easily imagine that such a thing would make a person feel crazy. She still channels her mother in scenes that aren’t romantic, though. The most notable being her reaction to the Grand Prix going to someone else, where she’s the only one angry and ranting and everyone else is trying to be cheerful about it. George wasn’t too kind about pointing this out, but neither was he wrong.

I can’t help but wish there was a little more attention paid to the Arashi-Miwako-Hiroyuki love triangle, even though I think the readers’ experience of the dissolution of that plot line mirrors Arashi’s own experience when he realizes that the only solution to the issue is to do what Miwako has been asking all along and simply believe in her more. I was pretty shocked to learn that he had originally forced himself on her, though.

MELINDA: I was too, and also surprised that it didn’t sour me on their relationship. I guess that’s to Yazawa’s credit. She’s able to create such wonderfully rich characters with a level of nuance that makes them greater than their worst flaws. Even George, for as much as I’ve ranted about him. I have issues, obviously, but he’s far from one-note.

MICHELLE: It didn’t sour me on their relationship, either. Put it in a new light, perhaps, but it doesn’t invalidate what they have today. And yes, exactly, even if I don’t like what these characters are doing all the time, I can still be impressed with how well they’re written. I’m glad I’m able to like them some or even most of the time, though, because I don’t tend to do well with wholly unsympathetic protagonists (see Detroit Metal City).

MELINDA: So, what about Hiro? I find I have very bland feelings about him, though certainly he’s a perfectly nice guy.

MICHELLE: I have mixed feelings about Hiro. He’s certainly the safe choice amongst all the guys in the cast, but his function as “normal guy” does come in handy a time or two, like when his outsider’s take on things helps members of the main cast achieve certain realizations. That said, I think I’m more interested in the way he is used in the story than he himself, if that makes sense. I initially assumed he’d just be the bishounen crush whom Yukari instantly forgets about once she’s swept off her feet by George, so I didn’t anticipate at all how important he would be to the overall story, even after his past connection with Arashi and Miwako was revealed. He’s like Kaori in this way—I expected him to perform like a shojo cliché, even though this is Yazawa and I ought to’ve known better!

MELINDA: I had the same reaction when I first read the series! I assumed he’d fade into the background, but I should have guessed otherwise. I suspect he’s a much, much better match for Yukari than George ever could have been. This brings me back to something you said in the beginning, though. Hiro’s probably more genuinely likable a person than George, but he’s not nearly as interesting. Then again, perhaps “interesting” is overrated in the long-term?

MICHELLE: Well, we’ve all heard of “the kind you date” versus “the kind you marry.” :)

We haven’t discussed the older generation of characters yet, but, to be honest, none interests me much. The mothers are the most significant, I suppose, and I’d have to say I’d take Yukari’s over George’s any day, despite her critical and overbearing nature. I really loved the little epilogue to the school festival award ceremony, for example, when a snapshot Yukari left on the coffee table is given pride of place and a snazzy new frame the next day.

MELINDA: I have one very favorite adult character, and that’s Isabella’s butler, Mr. Ueda. His scene with Isabella in chapter four, where he tells her how proud he is of the elegant lady she’s become is one of my favorite moments in the series. We don’t see a lot of him over the course of the series, but honestly he’s the one adult I have real respect and affection for. I’m glad Isabella had someone like that at home where she clearly was otherwise ignored.

MICHELLE: Oh, I forgot all about him! Yes, he’s very awesome. It looks like Arashi’s parents are probably pretty cool, too, though hardly glimpsed. I was wondering why he had piercings and spiked hair in the elementary school photo Miwako carries around, but then I saw his mom and everything made sense.

MELINDA: I think both in Paradise Kiss and in NANA, Yazawa creates worlds that are only inhabited by the people who truly need to be there in order to tell the story she wants to tell. It’s part of what makes her stories feel so intimate, even when they really have a large number of important characters. It just so happens that in Paradise Kiss, this excludes a lot of “adult” figures, since the story is so much about the characters coming to terms with their own adulthood.

MICHELLE: Speaking of NANA, when Kaori was trying to convince George to study abroad, I had a sudden flash to Reira convincing Takumi to postpone his marriage to Hachi. And, of course, there’s the whole “directionless girl encounters misfits, buys into their dream, and finds her own purpose in life” similarity. Are there other common scenarios the characters face?

MELINDA: Hmmmm, well, other than “self-involved parents damage their children,” nothing springs immediately to mind. :D

MICHELLE: I thought we were gonna be able to think of lots, but I’m drawing a blank, too. Is this further testament to Yazawa’s awesomeness?

MELINDA: Her awesomeness is fairly epic and well-documented, I’d say.

And with that, what more is there to say? Keep an eye on Soliloquy in Blue this week for more ParaKiss goodness! And join us again next week for a brand new Off the Shelf!

Speaking of origins, here’s a short bio for Hana that will soon appear on our “About” page:

Hana Lee is a biology graduate student living in California. By day, she experiments with yeast; by night, she spends her time knitting and eating good food. She is also a longtime fan of anime and manga, as well as an avid reader of books. Hana is proud to call herself Korean-American and maintains her fluency in Korean by watching K-dramas, reading manhwa and browsing the Korean-language blogosphere. Her favorite comics include Hikaru no Go, Nabi and Ravages of Time.

I’m thrilled to have Hana on board and I look forward to sharing her contributions with all of you!

In other news, Brigid Alverson has the latest on Tokyopop’s Priest film at Robot6.

JoongAng Daily looks at a recent exhibition of the comics of Kim Sung-hwan, one of Korea’s most prominent political cartoonists.

This week in reviews, Julie at Manga Maniac Cafe checks out two Yen Press titles, volume three of Sarasah and volume four of 13th Boy. And at Heart of Manga, Laura names Pig Bride “Manhwa of the Month.”

That’s all for this week!

Is there something I’ve missed? Leave your manhwa-related links in comments!

South Korea is widely known as being the most wired nation in the world. The majority of Koreans have near-constant access to high-speed Internet. Consequently, the Internet has become a vehicle for new artists to make themselves known to a wide audience. Bestselling novels often originate in online serials, top actors can be discovered through personal blogs—and many of the latest hit manhwa make their start as webcomics.

In Korean, webcomics are called “webtoons” (a portmanteau of “web” and “cartoons”) and are available for free viewing on major portal sites, who pay the manhwa-ga to update once or twice a week until the storyline reaches completion. Some are professional manhwa-ga who have already made their name in the industry, such as Huh Young-man, who published his latest series, Kkol, online.*

Others are unknowns with separate day jobs who create manhwa in their spare time. For example, Shin Eui-cheol’s popular webcomic, Schoolholic was based on his daily experiences as a teacher.

Korean webcomics have grown immensely popular in recent years. Several series have garnered sequels or spin-off series due to their success with online audiences; others have subsequently been published in print or adapted for the screen as Korean dramas or movies.

New form creates new function

Korean webcomics cover a diversity of genres—anywhere from science fiction to horror to humor—and push the boundaries of the medium in many ways. Typically, each chapter is published as one long continuous vertical strip, extending beyond the dimensions of a print page. Some series use traditional panelling but others have taken advantage of the scrolling navigation to experiment with different layouts.

For example, as the viewer moves down the page, the blue background in the prologue to Mt. Hyeon Arari begins as an underwater scene with fish and becomes a cloudless sky with birds.** The scrolling allows the manhwa-ga to imitate a camera panning effect as the viewer’s eye descends through the sky to end with a view of a mountainous island, toward which a boat is sailing.

Moreover, since webcomics are usually drawn by tablet and colored with computer graphics software, the range of artistic styles can range from black-and-white line art to photorealistic paintings. Most series are available in full color for every chapter. The online format also permits manhwa-ga to insert multimedia features to accompany their art, such as the background music in the prologue to Monsoon.***

Popular series gain large fan followings, and the online format allows manhwa-ga to read their viewer’s reactions and even interact with their fans through the forums. Series that are ongoing at the same time will occasionally hold mock competitions for viewer ratings or showcase cameos from characters in other series.

Where to find webcomics

Webcomics can be viewed for free on almost all the major Korean portal sites. The two largest portals boast the widest collection:

• Naver Ongoing Webtoons, Naver Finished Webtoons
• Daum Ongoing Webtoons, Daum Finished Webtoons

Webcomics are also available at these portals:

• Nate Manhwa Toon City
• Paran Cartoon
• Daewon CI Webtoon
• Yahoo! Korea Cartoon World
• MSN Korea Manhwaholic

However, not many webcomics have been translated into English yet. Out of the English-language manhwa publishers, NETCOMICS has officially published three webcomic series:

• The Great Catsby (originally serialized at Daum under the Korean title 위대한 캣츠비)
• X Diary (originally serialized at Paran under the Korean title 남자친9)
• Almost Highly Classified (originally serialized at Ecomix under the Korean title 2급비밀)

The start-up company iSeeToon plans on releasing Korean webcomics in English as iPhone/iPod apps. (They are also on Twitter at @iSeeToon.) The first series they’ve licensed will be made available in late August.

Sunjeong Manhwa, by Kang Pool

The release of this series in late 2003 made it one of the first Korean webcomics. Its popularity is largely responsible for setting off the webcomic boom on the Korean Internet. As one can guess from the title, the series focuses on the love story of two couples, featuring slice-of-life moments from their romance. The protagonists are a second-year high school girl and an older salaryman who lives in the same apartment building, as well as another high school student who is similarly in love with a much older woman.

Although I originally felt dubious about the large age gap in both couples, the manhwa soon won me over. The age difference is not brushed aside but features as one of the main sources of conflict in the series. One of my favorite scenes occurs when Suk calls out Ha-yeong to go walk in the first snow. Ha-yeong wants to discourage Suk’s determined attempts to woo her since he is much younger than her in age. She tries to squelch the romantic mood by saying that she doesn’t like it because the snow is too thin. She tells Suk that she prefers snow that piles up and crunches under her feet.

Undaunted, Suk reaches down and starts making small mounds of snow with his bare hands. He tells her to walk on the mounds so that it will feel as if the snow has piled up thickly beneath her feet. Ha-yeong reluctantly walks forward and hears the snow crunching at her footsteps. The perspective switches to Suk, who watches Ha-yeong walking towards him and feels incredibly happy.

Moss by Yoon Tae-ho

This horror webcomic finished last summer and developed such a large fanbase that the award-winning director, Kang Woo-suk, acquired the rights to produce a live-action movie adaptation. The movie will be released later this summer, and the trailer can be viewed at the official website.

The story starts with the death of Ryu Mok-hyeong, who left his family in Seoul to live in the country. Upon his death, his long-estranged son, Hae-guk, who has recently divorced from his wife and lost his job, decides to make a new start by moving to the village where his father spent the last years of his life. This news is not welcome to the village’s inhabitants, who try to convince him to return.

Moreover, there seems to be some mystery about his father’s death, as Ryu Mok-hyeong was only 67 and did not appear to die from any illness. The villagers, and in particular, the sinister-looking village foreman, seem bent on discouraging Hae-guk from finding out anything about his father’s life in the village or the circumstances surrounding his death.

The art is highly stylized and detailed, featuring strong lines on top of a dark and desaturated color scheme. The overall effect is gorgeous and well-suited to the horror genre. In the panel to the left, Hae-guk wakes up to find one of the villagers snooping outside his window, after he had mentioned that he had found a pile of documents belonging to his late father.

* 꼴 or kkol is a word that literally means one’s “look” or “state”. It’s often used in a negative context, e.g. “What a [pitiful] state you’re in!” or “Get out of my sight!” It’s also a pun for “goal”. (↑)
** 아라리 or arari is a Buddhist term coming from the Sanskrit alali. It’s used to mean a wide natural landscape where there is no sign of people. (↑)
*** 장마 or jangma literally translates to “long rain” and refers to the summer monsoon season in Korea. (↑)

After kicking things off with my favorite of her series, Flower of Life, I though it appropriate to end things yesterday on a similarly beloved note with Antique Bakery. There are few short series I have loved as much as either of these, and it’s a great pleasure to talk about them here, in the company of both long-time Yoshinaga fans and potential new ones.

A full archive of the week can be found by searching the tag, “fumi yoshinaga.”

Alternatively, here’s a full list of the week’s festivities:

Flower of Life: A Love Story
All My Darling Daughters
Garden Dreams
BL Bookrack: Yoshinaga Special, featuring:

• Don’t Say Anymore, Darling
• Ichigenme… The First Class is Civil Law
• The Moon and the Sandals
• Solfege

Ooku: The Inner Chambers
Rountable: Gerard & Jacques
Antique Bakery

And from offsite:

• Ooku, Vol. 1 – Phoenix (Experiments in Reading)
• Feasting on Fumi – David Welsh (The Manga Curmudgeon)
• The Antique Bakery, Vol. 3 – Kimberly Saunders (The Kimi-chan Experience)
• Flower of Life, Vol. 1 – Kimberly Saunders (The Kimi-chan Experience)
• Garden Dreams – Kristin Bomba (Comic Attack)
• The Antique Bakery, Vol. 4 – Kimberly Saunders (The Kimi-chan Experience)

It’s been a glorious week for me, and I hope you’ve all enjoyed it too.

As I begin this article, I find myself struck by the impossibility of saying anything about Antique Bakery that hasn’t already been said.

Undoubtedly Fumi Yoshinaga’s most celebrated work, at least on this side of the Pacific, this story of four men working in a western-style patisserie in Tokyo first hit US shelves in 2005, three years after completing its original run in Japan’s Wings magazine. The series is a Kodansha Manga Award-winner, a 2007 Eisner nominee, and entirely deserving of both.

Yoshinaga utilizes all her greatest strengths in this manga, rich characterization, rambling dialogue, and a deep love of food. The descriptions of the bakery’s various specialties is enough to make any pastry-lover swoon (enhanced by DMP’s scratch ‘n’ sniff covers). Her gift for gab brings this corner of Tokyo alive–especially the bakery’s customers, who wander in from all walks of life. Where Yoshinaga really outdoes herself, however, is with her delightful quartet of male leads.

The first volume begins with introductions, though it jumps around quite a bit in the story’s timeline. We meet a teenaged schoolboy who confesses his love to a male classmate, only to be brutally rejected; a similarly-aged schoolgirl who admires a braver girl from afar; a brilliant young boxer whose career has abruptly ended due to a physical defect; and a weary salaryman who finds an evening’s solace in the works of J.S. Bach and a shortcake from the department store bakery.

These disparate characters are finally brought together at the bakery “Antique.” Two of them are customers (the schoolgirl and the salaryman) who find their way to their neighborhood’s new bakery with a mixture of surprise and delight.

The others are inhabitants of the bakery itself. Yusuke Ono, the boy whose heart was crushed so cruelly in junior high, is the bakery’s genius pastry chef. The boy who rejected him, Keiichiro Tachibana, is its owner. And the boxer, Eiji Kanda, is Ono’s promising apprentice.

As the series goes on, each of these characters’ histories is further revealed, including their relationships to each other and the journeys that led them to the Antique. Ono’s story is told first, which, despite its rather dramatic beginning, is by far the least tragic. As it happens, his devastation over Tachibana’s rejection serves as a springboard to a new life of self-awareness and sexual freedom that takes him to Paris and back again.

Kanda’s tale is much sadder, though his love for sweets has at least given him a chance at a new career. Tachibana’s journey, however, is both somewhat tragic and opaque, its path forever altered by his childhood experience as a kidnapping victim.

The bakery’s fourth personality, Chikage Kobayakawa, Tachibana’s childhood friend and bodyguard, is not introduced until the second volume, and though his status as a bumbling hulk might normally doom him to a role of perpetual comic relief, he is actually one of the most poignant characters of the bunch.

Though much of the series maintains a slice-of-life sensibility, chronicling daily business at the bakery, broken up by various events and small personal dramas, the series’ final volume takes a more dramatic turn, as a new rash of child kidnappings commands Tachibana’s involvement.

Though this is undeniably the most plot-driven section of the series by far, it is still heavily rooted in characterization, as its main purpose is to reveal more about Tachibana’s motivations and to move him along to the next stage of his life. While this shift in tone seems rather sudden, it provides some unexpected momentum for the series’ final volume, while uncovering much substance within Tachibana, ultimately to great effect. It’s quite telling that the cover art for the fourth volume is the only one in the series to portray just one character.

Praising this series may be easy, but categorizing it is not. Western readers frequently classify it as yaoi, but that label seems woefully insufficient and even misleading. Though its cast certainly contains gay characters (more who actually identify as gay, frankly, than most yaoi I’ve personally read), romance is minimal and hardly the point.

This is not coy, homoerotic fantasy, nor is it anything approaching pornography. And, “Yama nashi, ochi nashi, imi nashi” (No climax, no point, no meaning)? Utterly inappropriate when applied to this series.

This is not a negative statement about yaoi, by the way. I’m a fan, after all. This series just seems so far removed from anything in that genre, that calling it “yaoi” makes as much sense to me as categorizing Detroit Metal City with NANA because they’ve both got characters in bands. From the evidence I’ve seen (including the stack of BL manga sitting here in front of me), yaoi sits squarely in the romance genre. Antique Bakery simply does not.

What Antique Bakery has going for it is an impressively rich cast of major and minor characters, both gay and straight, male and female, upon which it places a lens much broader than can reasonably be allowed by romance. Its strength is its lack of any particular focus, unless you count a delightful obsession with sweets.

Lack of focus, however, does not constitute a lack of specifics. Each of the characters is fully-formed, regardless of what else is going on–even the ones who appear for only a chapter or two. And the series’ main characters are beautifully fleshed-out, even those with the most comedic roles.

Yoshinaga’s artwork is as unique and expressive as usual, though she makes particularly strong use of wordless panels in this series. The nearly three full wordless pages devoted to Tachibana’s reaction to his own cruelty to Ono (from a flashback in volume four) are some of the most affecting in the series.

However you choose to classify it, one thing is clear. Like the many cakes and pastries described within its pages, Antique Bakery is a delight few can resist.

Published in English by BLU Manga (Tokyopop’s BL imprint) Gerard & Jacques was recommended highly to me when I first began reading yaoi, but I’ll admit I had some difficulty with it my first time around, due to some specific content in the manga’s opening chapter which kept me from enjoying it at all at the time.

When I began to make plans for this special week of Yoshinaga, I decided to give Gerard & Jacques another try. I was also interested to hear what some of my favorite critics (and BL fans) thought of the work, so I invited a few of them along for the ride.

Joining me in discussion are Michelle Smith (Soliloquy in Blue), Danielle Leigh (Comics Should Be Good), Eva Volin (Good Comics For Kids), Robin Brenner (No Flying, No Tights), and David Welsh (The Manga Curmudgeon).

MELINDA: Re-reading Gerard & Jacques, I’m struck by how much is crammed into just two volumes and how remarkably believable the relationships are that Yoshinaga has created in such a short time. But before we get into all that, let’s begin with the element that was my greatest obstacle to enjoying this story–the initial non-consensual sexual encounter between the two main characters.

As much as I love Yoshinaga’s work, this scene in which Gerard, a well-heeled novelist, takes by force the young boy, Jacques (who has been sold into prostitution as repayment for his aristocrat father’s debts) was not something I could like or even really tolerate. In fact, this is exactly the type of thing that would usually be a deal-breaker for me in any romantic manga, and had I not already known and liked the author, I doubt I would have continued with it. What were your reactions to the story’s first chapter?

MICHELLE: Though this was my first time reading Gerard & Jacques, I already knew how the story would begin and so was expecting it. I wasn’t expecting the conversation they have while this is going on, though, which I think elevates the scene beyond your typical nonconsensual encounter. I think my main reaction, without yet knowing what followed, was to wonder how on earth Jacques would end up falling in love with Gerard and to ponder what Gerard’s motivations were in bedding and then freeing his unwilling partner. Humiliating a member of the aristocracy certainly seems to figure in, but was it also an attempt to challenge Jacques’ pride? I don’t want to ascribe philanthropic motives to what Gerard did, but it’s interesting to ponder whether, afterwards, he intended the experience to be something that would spur Jacques to get out and labor like a commoner.

DAVID: I admit to being disappointed. Yoshinaga was the first Japanese creator I’d ever seen feature a character who self-identified as gay (in Antique Bakery), so I think I had a different set of expectations for her yaoi work. And I freely admit that I had a bunch of incorrect expectations of the yaoi category in general. This was before I really grasped the distinction between gay manga and romance manga featuring two ostensibly male protagonists. (And it isn’t like we’re inundated with licensed gay manga.) But really, Yoshinaga’s work was about as close as we seemed likely to get, so for her to indulge in the rape-as-precursor-to-romance was really, really irritating. It was like, “Oh, Fumi, not you too…”

DANIELLE: I’ve very vocal about my love for Yoshinaga but I continually struggle with depictions of non-consensual sex or rape in yaoi. I honestly don’t feel more put out by Yoshinaga using that trope than anyone else I read since any instance of it will bother me and force me to examine both myself and the genre as a whole (And what I’m examining is the odd and perhaps hypocritical balancing act I try to do when I’m reading works that constantly make me wonder how can I like something so much that so often pains me versus the relative enjoyment I get out of reading the genre).

However, I would follow up on Michelle’s insightful analysis of Gerard’s motivations in that scene to note that for me this isn’t a scene of “rape-as-precursor” to romance because that isn’t what follows at all, at least in my mind. In fact, what is more problematic for me might be Gerard becoming a father-figure to Jacques as precursor to romance.

EVA: As Melinda knows, I’ve read a lot of romance novels — not romance manga, although I’ve read plenty of those, too — and I was reading those novels back in the 1980s and early 1990s, when I was in high school and college. (Back then, books for teens consisted of Robert Cormier-style angst or Lois Duncan-style thrillers. Since I wasn’t interested in either of those genres, I jumped straight to Harlequin Romances.)

Now, back then, the sub-genre du jour was rape fantasies, much like Navy Seals and paranormals are in vogue today. The hero, who is known to be a gentle lover, is asked to break in the unwilling virgin. The virgin says things to anger the hero who, despite his fury, still tries to make the experience good for the freshman whore. The whore doesn’t thank him for it. So, for me, the first chapter of Gerard & Jacques is just a better written example of an opening scene I’ve read a million times before.

As Michelle says, the conversation between the characters raises this scene to another level. I would add that it’s also the art. The reader is expected to look, really look, at the drawings. If he doesn’t, the reader will miss the furrowing of Gerard’s brow when Jacques insults him one too many times, and two panels later, still wordlessly, Jacques eyes widen as he realizes he’s maybe gone too far. This precise storytelling, to me, is what makes Yoshinaga’s work, even when the subject is distasteful, worth reading.

DAVID: Oh, I’d never deny that Yoshinaga presents this with a great deal more grace than anyone has a right to expect. But there are some tropes that will just never work for me. It’s like a conceptualized production of Taming of the Shrew. The effort is impressive and the thinking astute, but the core is still gross to me.

ROBIN: I admit to having multiple reactions at once to the opening nonconsensual sex scene. To the general trope, I very much had David’s “Oh, not you too!” reaction — I’ve never been a fan of noncon sexual encounters within romances, and this scene bothered me no less because it was a Yoshinaga book. I know its a standard plot device in both yaoi manga and in romance novels (as Eva explains), but I still try to avoid it in my reading. I kept reading this series because it was Yoshinaga, and I bet on the fact that this story would not progress in the usual manner.

However, there is a large part of me that accepts the encounter, and Jacques’s youth, as part of the setting and period. If we’re assuming this is pre-Revolution France, then we’re look at the late 1700s. I had the impression when I first read this book that one was considered an adult, with adult responsibilities and duties, far earlier than what we would consider normal today. I did a bit of research to find out if this was actually true, and I discovered, in essence, yes, one was considered an adult quite a bit earlier than today’s more standard 18 or 21. In the late 1700s, age of consent was 11 years old. Girls were considered ready to marry and start families by 11, and 16 is the age when men were considered adults by the 1790s census in the US. Not only that, people were expected to be adults by this age — there was no sense of a idealized, romanticized childhood that we maintain today (that all cropped up in the Victorian era, if I recall correctly.)

Does this mean it’s still not a bit squicky from a modern perspective? No. But it does give the story context, and I can’t read it without that historical note floating in the back of my mind. Jacques in this story is not necessarily the innocent teenager we might presume him to be were this a modern story, and I am able to accept the whole premise of this beginning more easily precisely because it’s period.

As everyone has said, the entire conversation at the beginning marks this scene as a far different work than the usual yaoi. We’re not being told to expect that this encounter is romantic. It’s many things: a lesson, a tease, a show of power, and a demonstration of class. We are not asked to believe that it is an expression of love. That’s when I get annoyed at yaoi, and Yoshinaga sidesteps that cliche neatly here.

This also leads me to consider the further point about rape leading to a father figure for Jacques. I actually don’t really see this relationship as a father relationship (especially as it seems that Jacques’s father was no peach.) I see it more as a mentor relationship, but as it starts sexually and continues with that undercurrent, I don’t really feel that it’s right to call it a father-son sort of relationship. Older friend and impressionable youth, perhaps, but I never really got a creepy incestuous vibe (and goodness knows it’s not like those are unexpected in yaoi, unfortunately.)

I totally see where you’re coming from, David. The Taming of the Shrew comparison is very apt — I too find that play difficult toenjoy precisely because the core idea is difficult. Now I’m debating in my head whether Gerard and Jacques is the yaoi manga version of 10 Things I Hate About You for me, fixing all the problems with the original premise to make the story enjoyable. (And wow, that’s a comparison I wasn’t expecting to make tonight!)

I’ve found the one Yoshinaga title I found more problematic is Solfege because the age/power difference was off-putting to me. This is why I am pushed to examine why I forgive Gerard & Jacques. Partly it’s the period, as I said, and partly it is the direction that twists the reader away from expectations. It’s also that the bursts of comedy that punctuate the story lend the whole tale a layer of fantasy goofiness. I do feel that in the end, Gerard & Jacques never presents their initial relationship as a romance, and that’s what saves it for me.

DAVID: I think it ends up being more of a mentorship relationship than parent-child, which is one of the things that compensates for the opening. I see it as a young man who wants to live in the world on his own terms hoping to learn from an older man who’s already there. That rings very true for me.

DANIELLE: Well, interestingly I think their relationship ends up being a strange mix of a mentorship and a child and parent one. Actually, I’m a little surprised about the response to my interpretation — Yoshinaga explicitly makes the connection no less than three times that Gerard thinks of Jacques as his own child. He actually states that he loved Jacques as he would his his own child the first time they make love as equals (although he says this in order to compare it to the romantic love he has developed for him), when drunk he tells Jacques that he’ll love him more than his mother or father ever did (as he’s feeling him up…hence my feeling conflicted about this relationship), he once is startled by Jacques looking entirely too much like his dead “daughter” when Jacques is sleeping peacefully. And there’s no doubt that he is constantly haunted by Jacques’ obviously similarity — not only in looks but in biological backstory — to the girl he lost.

So, I think the reason this is difficult for me is because the first real affection that surfaces between the two of them isn’t sexual (i.e. there’s no love in the rape scene) but clearly an (adopted) familial bond that does evolve into romantic love (but this happens much more quickly for Jacques, which makes sense because Gerard will always be remembered as the person who initiated him into the world of sexuality).

MELINDA: Though it doesn’t bother me, I do agree with Danielle that Yoshinaga makes the point repeatedly throughout the story that Gerard thinks of Jacques as his own child. Gerard even says these exact words, “I loved you like my own child.” I think the reason it doesn’t bother me in the story is that Jacques is the first to really make the shift from that relationship to something different, and he does so as an adult, so the situation lacks the kind of abuse of power one might typically find in either a parent/child or teacher/student relationship.

I’m with David otherwise, however. Though I’m certain its true that the first encounter between Gerard and Jacques is likely true to the period, it’s difficult for me to accept a man raping a young boy (for however different the accepted age of consent may have been in those days, it’s still a grown man using both his position and his superior physical strength to force someone much younger and smaller into sex) as something presented for my entertainment and titillation. I’m not comfortable with it, and I doubt I ever will be. It’s not a trope I can enjoy.

It’s difficult, then, for me to root for the relationship when it has begun in this way, because at least one of the parties involved has done something I find really abhorrent. It is perhaps made even worse in this case, since Gerard is portrayed as someone who has probably done this quite often before. Also, I’m always uncomfortable with stories that conflate homosexuality with pedophilia, and though Jacques’ age here is uncertain, this comes a bit too close for my liking.

All that said, it’s fairly remarkable that the story Yoshinaga weaves out of this beginning has honestly engaged me, at least this time around. On my first read, I was so distracted by the way the story began, I couldn’t enjoy much of what came after, but knowing what I was getting into on my second read, I was able to really appreciate how well she develops both characters and their relationship over the course of the story.

For those of you who began as I did, was there a particular turning point for you?

MICHELLE: I don’t think I began disliking the first chapter as much as you did, but I think I thawed just a little toward Gerard with the library scene, even though I don’t understand why he belittled Jacques so much at first—seeing him more as an aristocrat than his own person, perhaps? From there, the story gets a little more funny, Jacques proceeds to grow up quite a lot, and we learn more about how Gerard’s heart got so twisted. What I like is that Yoshinaga doesn’t use this backstory as an attempt to excuse Gerard’s actions with the boys at the brothel, and he never apologizes for same, but only to elucidate how he became the way he is. This, too, informs his difficulties later in determining whether what he feels for Jacques is, indeed, love.

ROBIN: I do see in rereading the series Danielle’s point about the father/son aspect of the relationship in the ways that Yoshinaga points it out. I think for me they work more as Gerard using the idea of fatherly love to keep his distance. He’s tempted, as we see many times with
Jacques, to fall into the pattern of lovers, and he keeps pushing sex away so as to concentrate on a deeper love than the emotions Gerard equates with sex or lovers. Think of his past experiences — none of the lovers he’s had thus far have been faithful in any way, and sex is always a tool. He wants to be something different to Jacques.

As to your point, Melinda, about the sexual encounter at the beginning, I would certainly never tell anyone they should accept it as anything but what it is: an older man having sex with a younger man with very dubious consent. There are elements that mitigate the circumstances: the period and the fact that Jacques is in fact presented as a prostitute, not just a random person Gerard decides to pounce on. Not that rape can’t happen between a prostitute and client but more that it’s not such an odd expectation from Gerard that sex would be on the menu. For me, at least, that makes Gerard less of a creep. But nowhere in all of this would I say anyone should find it romantic or dismiss it. I read that scene as a way to show sex in an unsavory context. I don’t find that scene sexy, to be sure. Maybe I’m giving Yoshinaga too much credit, though.

I’m reminded of when I read Alan Moore’s Lost Girls, and any number of romances (novels, fanfiction, etc.) Everyone has their own individual lines they cannot cross, and I have experienced that with other texts. There are things that kill a fantasy for me, no matter how skillfully presented (I personally can just not enjoy a story that’s incest.) Fantasy allows a lot to a point, but I think all of us have a point when we can’t ignore problematic content in our fantasies. Clearly, this title hits that point for some readers.

(Also, Jacques’s age is not really in doubt — they say 16-17? Yes? Are are we to understand they’re lying?)

Given the rest of the sexual encounters in the story, aside from our main pair at the very end, it’s clear to me that a lot of the sex in the story is not of the romance novel, earth-shatteringly romantic variety. The balances of power are too often in play, and only the cold-hearted characters are shown as enjoying rape and sexual manipulation. The sex in this book is varied and character-driven, hurtful and destructive as much as it is redeeming and loving. I think Yoshinaga is doing what she often does — taking the tropes of a genre and making them more complicated and more honest while still dancing along the edge of what’s expected. Do you think she succeeds in creating a romance for Gerarad and Jacques, or does the story strain too much against the conventions of the subgenre? Do the touches of realism somehow destroy the fantasy readers expect from yaoi? Is that a good or bad thing?

On a totally separate note, there is a part of me that thinks Yoshinaga must have written this after watching Dangerous Liaisons a few too many times, getting silly late at night, and deciding to make a romp out of it. Perhaps she just wanted to redeem Valmont?

I do find it amusing that reading it makes me want to break out my reference books to remind myself just how the French Revolution actually went down.

MICHELLE: I approached Gerard & Jacques more in the sense of a manga by Fumi Yoshinaga rather than as simply a BL manga. Because of that, I didn’t expect that it would comply to typical fantasy romance scenarios scene in a lot of BL manga. In fact, I think the very best of that genre incorporates reality, so I definitely appreciated the touches of realism here. As for whether she succeeded in creating a romance—well, sort of. She created a loving relationship between two characters that develops over a very long period of time. I’d personally prefer that to a whirlwind romance with much angsting.

EVA: In an effort to defend myself, I was responding directly to Melinda’s first question: “What were your reactions to the story’s first chapter?” I never said that I condoned Gerard’s behavior or that rape fantasies are my kink. I just said that I wasn’t surprised by the events in the chapter, as I’d read this type of story before. As a result, I can’t answer your second question, Melinda, as I didn’t react to the opening the way you did.

Like Robin, I had French history rolling around in my head while I was reading the book, as well as some knowledge of the social dynamics of the time. I know I harp on this a lot, but I do think that if one is going to demand historical accuracy from a historical novel, then one also has to make allowances for the social mores of the time. (This doesn’t mean that we can’t, as readers, criticize the mores of the time, but we shouldn’t condemn the characters for not living according to the mores of our time.) We also need to make allowances for the rules that define a genre (i.e.: urban fantasies having fairies popping up out of nowhere, or mysteries having a character die by chapter five).

Does this mean you have to love reading about rape? Of course not. But I don’t think it’s unreasonable for an author to expect the reader to know something about the genre he/she is reading. Yes, this is yaoi, but it’s also a historical romance and, at least in this book, the rules that guide historical romance trump the rules of yaoi. As has been mentioned, what makes Yoshinaga’s writing so interesting is that she takes those genre rules and plays with them, creating thought-provoking stories that work both with and against the expected storylines. As soon as I read the opening and realized which genre Yoshinaga was playing with in this series, I knew what to expect. I wasn’t shocked; I wasn’t dismayed. She’s following the rules of this particular sub-genre, as she has with the alternate history Ooku, the high school coming of age story Flower of Life, and on and on. Much more interesting for me was how she weaves discussions on philosophy, class inequality, politics, and FOOD! into the story.

MELINDA: While, again, I can agree that the first chapter is probably true to the period, and I can even appreciate that Yoshinaga is taking a common yaoi trope and making that work more realistically in a historical context than what is typically seen, it’s the trope itself that disturbs me. And, frankly, I’m much more critical of that than I am of the sexual mores of 18th century France. This is a modern manga, originally released by Biblos, a yaoi/hentai publisher and sold as such, so I don’t think I’m out of line to view it in that context.

Robin, you’re right about them having stated Jacques’ approximate age. It’s right in the first couple of pages, too. I forgot it right away, since he (and the other boys in the brothel) look so young to me as they are drawn.

So Eva, to give you your own thread to follow (since my second question doesn’t apply), elaborate on your last sentence there, about all the things you like most about the story. I’ll certainly agree they are more interesting, which I why I started with the topic I did–so we could get it out of the way and move on to what we all enjoy in the story.

EVA: Knowing Yoshinaga’s love of food, it’s always fun for me to go back and re-read some of her earlier books (G&J was published ten years ago) to see how she manages to work descriptions of incredibly delicious sounding meals into her stories, regardless of what the actual topic under discussion is. Charlotte discussing things like various condiments that best complement venison happen most often in volume one and I’m always charmed when it happens.

DAVID: I liked what I always like in Yoshinaga’s comics… idiosyncratic characters with interesting, resonant back-stories, highly caffeinated levels of dialogue, quirky romantic chemistry, blurting passion, and hilarious but astute digressions about politics, philosophy, class and (of course) pornographic novels. I think the beauty of her work is that her characters don’t care exclusively about the plot. They almost have to be herded back to caring about the skeleton of the narrative. That’s not to say that Yoshinaga can’t structure a story so much as she’s generous with the inner lives of her characters.

ROBIN: I will admit what makes me revisit Gerard & Jacques is the humor and the slow build of the relationship once we get past the intro. (On that note, I will say if I pick this one out of my stack of Yoshinaga to reread, I almost never read the beginning, just flip to the later parts and especially volume two.)

I love the visual jokes that magically work in manga, like Jacques exploding every time Gerard unwittingly (or wittingly) gets too close. The actual explosions on the page never fail to make me giggle.

I love the parade of commentary on pornography’s appeal, especially in (ahem) hard times. I relish the lengthy explanations of Rousseau and political theory plus snide jokes about Robespierre. I do get the sense that snide jokes about Robespierre were never hard to find at the time.

Using the horror and drama of the Revolution to lend the story unexpected weight is deftly handled. Yoshinaga never dismisses the sheer terror of not knowing when the government might decide to execute you, but she also doesn’t let the historical realism muddy what is her real point: a love story.

And David nails it calling it blurting passion — the awkwardness and moments of genuine surprise and longing between Gerard and Jacques are what make the romance work so well. The quiet moments are when Yoshinaga excels: how many times does Gerard reach for Jacques only to pull away? Beautifully done.

And what about those villains, eh? Always cruel, witty, and dashing even as they crush hearts. And always frail and human at their core.

Now I want a madeleine.

MICHELLE: I’m also a big fan of the humor in the series, as well as simply how long it takes these men to realize their feelings. Essentially, it takes three years for Jacques to realize what he’s feeling and another five for Gerard to accept that this really is love. I loved the scene at the end, when he, having finally told Jacques he loves him, can’t stop telling him so.

I must say, though, that the villains didn’t really work for me. I understand their function in the story, but everything with Gerard’s wife and her lover was so excessively melodramatic it robbed the backstory of some poignancy for me.

MELINDA: I’m glad people have been bringing up the slow progression of the relationship, because ultimately, that is what really won me over to this manga. One of my major complaints about yaoi as a genre has always been that I feel too many romances are rushed, so much so as to be utterly unbelievable, simply for the purpose of getting the characters more quickly into the bedroom. While I appreciate a well-written sex scene as much as anyone, most often I find them to be either a pointless distraction from the real story or, as in the case of these super-rushed romances, the story’s utter ruin.

I love romance. I really do. But I have to believe the romance to love it, and that happens much less often than I’d like. Gerard & Jacques‘ slow-building romance is perfect for me in that way, and doubly impressive since Yoshinaga manages it over the course of just two volumes.

Michelle, I didn’t have the same reaction to the drama with Gerard’s wife and lover, but perhaps I too have watched Dangerous Liasons one too many times.

DAVID: I don’t know. I think Yoshinaga really nails the vicious, self-absorbed cruelty of the antagonists, and I found it so interesting, since she’s usually such a generous sort. I love the way she can make protagonists obnoxious and antagonists kind of lovable, so it was sort of fun to see her just go full-out in crafting nasty types. I think they also represent the decadence and vapidity of the aristocracy, which makes the Revolution somewhat less surprising and intrusive than it might have been. They seemed eminently beheadable to me.

MICHELLE Besides just my personal preference for sympathetic villains, maybe part of the reason I see them differently is because I actually haven’t read all that much Yoshinaga yet. This is actually the first BL manga of hers I’ve read, unless you count a glimpse at an Antique Bakery doujinshi that made me feel like I was intruding too much on Ono’s private life! :)

MELINDA: At this point, I’m mainly just giggling over “eminently beheadable.” :D

MICHELLE: Oh yes, I loved that line, too! I realized in my reply I neglected to commend David for his remarks about their decadence and vapidity, which helps me to see them in a new light.

MELINDA: Though, since David brought it up, what was everyone’s reaction to the heavy Revolution plotline in the last half of the story? Once again, this seems like something that *should* take many volumes of build-up, yet Yoshinaga manages it in no time at all.

DAVID: This would be a good opportunity for me to note that I invariably find the pacing of the second volumes of Yoshinaga’s two-volume yaoi stories to be very strange, whether it’s this one or Moon and Sandals or Ichigenme. They aren’t bad comics by any stretch of the imagination, but they’re sometimes very different comics than the first volume would lead the reader to expect. It’s more evident in Moon and Ichigenme, but there’s some of that in Gerard & Jacques, and I think the somewhat rushed addressing of the Revolution reflects that.

ROBIN: I must agree about the frequent awkward skips and jumps in Yoshinaga’s two-volume works. It always makes me wonder if she finds herself with about a volume and a half worth of plot and then fills in with sex (at least many of her second volumes entirely revolve around sex). She often saves the story by making it character development sex, and it is well drawn and erotic, but still, dramatic increase in sex.

The Revolution has certainly been looming in the background since the beginning of the story, and the arrogant viciousness of the upper classes is obviously represented in Gerard’s wife and Almaric (sp?). The cramming in of the details of the Revolution does end up being a device to spur Gerard to admit his feelings, and I can forgive that as a tool for furthering the romantic plot. However, the Revolution itself would have been building for quite some time, and it’s clear that Gerard was more a part of it than we’re able to see (given the references to his debates and knowledge of key figures), and I would have like to see more of that.

Then again, this is when I remember that this is, in fact, a yaoi story. However much it is Yoshinaga, she’s still working with the genre’s conventions. Antique Bakery is not yaoi, and thus the other plots and relationships are more important than whatever romance might be happening. Gerard & Jacques is yaoi, and therefore its focus must be romance, so I don’t find the incomplete references to the politics as problematic. In a way, the fact that she fit in as much as she did is rather a feat.

DAVID: I agree about the successful juggling. It reminds me of another interesting aspect of her two-volume titles. There’s always an interesting, forceful female character in the first volume, and while she generally vanishes by the second (three’s a crowd), it’s another way that Yoshinaga injects some realism. Her stories don’t take place in an all-male vacuum.

MICHELLE: Yeah, it did feel a little rushed. I wondered if Jacques’ critique at how little the revolution factors into the Gerard’s novel was Yoshinaga actually poking fun at herself. Raul’s decision to divulge all the information he’d betrayed was also quite convenient. I had actually forgotten by this point that Jacques was an aristocrat—and how awesome did he look in his finery?—so wasn’t expecting them to need to flee.

ROBIN: I think there is a lot of meta-commenting going on with Yoshinaga in this particular series, especially with the constant “why is this porn so popular!?” exclamations from Jacques. It’s actually quite enjoyable to see a creator poke fun of the industry. It makes me wonder if Yoshinaga gets that gleeful grin on her face that Gerard has when he explains how his novel is filthy porn and will make him buckets of money!

To pose another few questions, one barrier I know many readers (manga fans and non-manga fans) have complained to me about with Fumi Yoshinaga is her spare artwork. In a period piece like this, the lack of sumptuous detail is particularly apparent. Personally, I’ve always found her artwork to be refreshingly clean and focused on gesture and expression. I might even hazard to say that an overabundance of costuming in many manga often covers a lack of skill in rendering emotions as opposed to silks and satins (although I admit this is not always the case.)

Did anyone miss the costume porn in this series? Did you want more details of corsets, scarlet heels, and brocade?

As for another question, this title is one that I have hesitated adding to my library collection, even in adult, due to the explicitness of the sex. Nothing is left to the imagination here, and I’ve also seen other reviewers completely put off by the explicit nature of the sex. David already mentioned her tendency to have very different first and second volumes, but this series is a different all the way through in terms of explicitness. For me, if I’m going to be reading yaoi, I rather expect it to be explicit, but it’s not a requirement. Steamy and passionate, yes. Full of fluids and detailed anatomy, not as necessary. Did anyone find the level of explicitness jarring or felt it was unsuitable to the story?

MICHELLE: You know, I honestly didn’t realize any of the costume porn was missing until we finally see Jacques dressed in courtly garb. That was a stunning sequence, which satisfied me utterly in the costume porn department.

Regarding the real porn, it’s interesting, because although the anatomical detail is greater in this work than in other BL, I actually thought the sex was less explicit, or at least much more about the characters themselves and not simply, “Insert tab A into slot B.” I admit to a certain level of prudishness, and I had absolutely no trouble with the sex scenes in Gerard & Jacques where the same level of explicitness in a less well-written work would probably make me go, “Eww.”

DAVID: I always feel like the level of emotional detail, body language and expression, make up for the lack of set dressing. As for the sex scenes, I always find that the sometimes clumsy, often conversational quality makes them as intimate as they are smutty. So Yoshinaga wins, basically.

MELINDA: I’m a fan of Yoshinaga’s sparse style and I’m more interested in the characters than I am in what they’re wearing anyway, so I have to admit I never really noticed the absence of costume porn. I’m sure if she’d drawn lavish costumes, I’d be noticing them and saying, “how beautiful!” Instead, I’m looking at her characters’ faces and saying the same thing.

As for the other kind of porn, I actually think it is very tastefully done. It may be explicit, but it doesn’t strike me as crass. Perhaps it’s because she’s able to be so visually explicit, but one thing I very much appreciate is the fact that Yoshinaga (or at least her BLU editor) avoids cramming the page full with sound effects like “slurp” and “spurt,” which I’ll admit I find a little bit gross. And because the sex is always a vital part of the narrative, it seems very appropriate to me.

EVA: I’m a big fan of Yoshinaga’s close-ups and two shots, despite the fact that all of her characters look remarkably alike. She includes those finely detailed panels when necessary, making their impact all the more dramatic. I also love her use of wordless panels. I get to wallow in eyebrows and smirks and search for hidden meaning or secret irony.

As to your question about the explicitness of the sex, I have to admit to a certain fondness for glowing cones of light. I’m more familiar with the bedroom scenes in yaoi featuring strategically placed pillows and smugly satisfied Ken dolls. Once my eyebrows dropped back into their proper positions, I found the penises quite refreshing.

MELINDA: Eva, I’m glad you brought up the close-ups, two shots, and wordless panels because one of my favorite things about Yoshinaga’s work is the way she manipulates pacing with her panel choices, particularly the types you mention.

And you know, it’s funny, I hear everyone saying that her characters all look alike, but I think she creates such beautifully distinct characters that I’ve never even noticed. I’m sure that makes me incredibly lame, but I’d like to chalk it up to her brilliance. :D

ROBIN: I am in complete and total agreement about unnecessary sound effects. I just…don’t need to hear it in such detail!

I have always taken the criticism of “all her characters look the same” as being a bit funny, as with most manga artists this is true. Look at CLAMP, for goodness sake. Or, you know, every character drawn by Frank Quitely in superhero comics. The differences in how characters’ faces are drawn is very subtle for any manga design, and sometimes I think this complaint is more a result of inattentive reading (or inexperienced reading). Perhaps I am too harsh.

In reading most of Yoshinaga, I’ve come to the conclusion that she really shines in both pacing and expression/gesture. You have to be a reader who enjoys those moments, the quieter pauses, to really fall in love with her work.

Thanks for commenting on the levels of explicitness! It’s certainly not so terribly explicit in the context of many prose romance novels, but pictures still cause a lot more controversy than words, so it’s something I consider a lot when debating about what to add to a library collection. Doesn’t mean I won’t, just that I think about it carefully.

MELINDA: One last question to wrap things up! Whatever misgivings any of us might have about individual elements of this manga, it seems that ultimately we all enjoy it–even me, which was a nice surprise on my second read! So with all this in mind, to whom is it recommended? Is this a title of interest only to seasoned BL manga fans, or does it have a wider appeal?

DAVID: That’s a great question. I’ve seen people who’ve really enjoyed Yoshinaga’s general-interest series (Antique Bakery, Flower of Life, Ooku) be left cold by her yaoi work, so it’s never safe to assume that someone would like all of her work. (I think that’s one of the things that’s most interesting about her as a creator, too, that her body of work has so many shadings to it.)

At the same time, I’m always looking for comics that feature interesting, nuanced portrayals of same-sex relationships, and several of Yoshinaga’s works offer that. I think even Gerard & Jacques offers that, assuming you can get past the opening sequence. I could, but I could basically because I was familiar with Yoshinaga’s style and sensibility and trusted that it would go someplace more interesting and emotionally rich. But for some people, non-consensual sexual content or a relationship with a significant power imbalance is a real deal-breaker when it comes to reading romantic fiction, no matter what the gender composition of the couple is.

Ultimately, I don’t think I’d recommend Gerard & Jacques to someone who isn’t already familiar with some of the tropes of boys’ love and yaoi, and I would be frank about the more problematic aspects of the book. I’d recommend “Ichigenme” or Moon and Sandals without hesitation, though.

ROBIN: As a person who spends a good deal of my day helping people find the books they want and need, I’d have to agree with David. While other Yoshinaga series have a wider appeal, Gerard & Jacques is first and foremost a yaoi series. Both manga and yaoi fans will have more of an understanding as to what that means, and thus will be more likely to engage with the series.

Romance readers of all stripes might enjoy the story, provided they understand the gender of the lovers and are aware of the consent and power issues. The younger generation of romance readers are already reading m/m romances (like those from these folks) and yaoi, though they may well have problems with consent issues. Romance, of course, means many things to many different people, which is why there are a ton of variety within category romance prose, so there may be a niche audience out there I’m unaware of.

MICHELLE: I agree that a knowledge of more run-of-the-mill BL, and perhaps a desire to find something different and more meaningful, would be prerequisites before I recommended this as someone’s first Yoshinaga work. (I usually suggest Antique Bakery first.) It’s interesting to ponder that her BL works may be a better gateway for her more slice-of-life offerings than the other way around.

ROBIN: I also think her BL works might be a sly way to encourage readers to demand more from their BL reading. I know at least I do — the standard, cliche-driven yaoi don’t particularly work for me as it once did, and I much prefer more complex, realistic, and challenging works that still contain the necessary romance (like Future Lovers.)

EVA: I agree. I’d never recommend a Yoshinaga story as anyone’s first introduction to a genre, even Flower of Life, which may be her most accessible title. Because of the way she twists conventions, it’s helpful to know what those conventions are. But even Yoshinaga’s least interesting books are so much more cleverly written than other authors’ best books, that I’ll still pick them up and read them.

DAVID: It’s hardwired in me that, whenever someone mentions Future Lovers, I have to drone on about how much I love it. It’s one of the only yaoi titles I would recommend to gay readers without any hesitation at all, and I love it to a perfectly sickening degree. But… that’s not the subject of this roundtable. Receding now.

ROBIN: Just to say, I don’t know that there’s an immediate link between Gerard & Jacques and Future Lovers — I wouldn’t immediately recommend Future Lovers to a Gerard & Jacques fan, or vice versa. It’s more the idea that both challenge expectations for yaoi, and I’m always on the lookout for more of that.

EVA: Ha! I remember once reading a short story that I liked as much as Future Lovers, but I can never remember what it is, because David has so firmly hammered home that Future Lovers Is The Best.

ROBIN: I keep waiting to discover if US audience tastes will slowly change to purchasing titles more in line with Future Lovers and Fumi Yoshinaga, but I think that’s more just what I like rather than necessarily what manga readers like in terms of what gets bought the most.

*****

A million thanks to Michelle, Danielle, Eva, Robin, & David for joining me in this discussion!

For more on some of Fumi Yoshinaga’s BL works (including several mentioned during the course of this roundtable), take a look at BL Bookrack: Yoshinaga Special, the first installment of a new monthly BL feature here at Manga Bookshelf. For links to all of this week’s Yoshinaga goodness so far, check out my introductory post, updated daily!

In this alternate history of Edo-period Japan, an incurable disease has wiped out much of the nation’s male population, leaving women to take up traditional men’s roles, including that of shogun.

As this series is structured, its first volume begins eighty years after the disease’s initial outbreak, at which point the male population has declined by 75% and women have become firmly fixed in their new roles. The second and third volumes then return to the beginning of the outbreak, which finds the nation in a panic–desperate to maintain male rule, even to the point of delusion, if that is what is required.

This structural choice is, frankly, brilliant. By removing any real question about the outcome of events that occur during the second and third volumes, Yoshinaga allows herself (and the reader) to focus on the process, which really shows her off to her greatest advantage. Though the universe is dense and the language even more so (needlessly, to some extent, thanks to an unfortunate choice in its English adaptation), this arrangement allows for a great deal of slow, masterful character development and an emphasis on human relationships and the psychology of political theory.

The story revolves around the workings of the Ooku, the harem of Edo Castle, in which the shogun’s wife, servants, and concubines reside. Traditionally inhabited by thousands of women, this number is shown to have been shifted to men in the first volume of this series, each bound into service of the shogun–an especially decadent arrangement in a nation with a male-female ratio of 1:4.

Though each of the series’ first three volumes focuses heavily on the lives of young men entering the Ooku (some of whom are there of their own free will, others… not so much) the overarching story is that of the evolution of a powerful female shogunate.

Volume one, the story of Mizuno, whose understated appearance catches the eye of the new, no-nonsense shogun, exhibits a rather fascinating society in which this is already firmly in place. Yet it is even more compelling to watch this society emerge, slowly and painfully, from its deep, patriarchal roots over the course of the following volumes.

It is here that Yoshinaga displays a new talent for creating cold, self-serving, and even cruel characters who are complex enough to be, not just interesting, but actually relatable. And she does it just about as far out of her comfort zone as possible.

There is nothing warm or quirky about Ooku. Life inside the shogun’s chambers is nowhere near casual or even remotely lighthearted. Even Yoshinaga’s earlier stabs at period pieces (such as Gerard & Jacques or Garden Dreams) are inappropriate for comparison, so great is the difference in weight and complexity.

With the preservation of the Tokugawa shogunate as paramount within the Inner Chambers, even the nation’s appalling health crisis can be seen in a positive light, so long as it weakens families that might otherwise represent a threat to the current government. When impoverished farmers must abandon their fields to dodge tithes they can no longer afford, make a law that binds them to the land for life. Should famine strike, offer several days of free gruel, not with the purpose of relieving hunger, but to quell the seeds of rebellion. Above all, nothing is more important than producing appropriate progeny to keep the Tokugawa family safely in power.

This is the world of the shogunate, illustrated here without nostalgia or apology, yet populated with characters Yoshinaga is able to make her readers care about and occasionally even like.

The greatest downside to this series is its English adaptation which, in an effort to create formal-sounding speech, utilizes an awkward, quasi-17th-century style (referred to among critics as “Fakespeare”).

Though I personally was able to acclimate just a few pages in, even for me this has the disadvantage of dampening what is typically my greatest joy in Yoshinaga’s writing–her glorious abundance of dialogue. As a result, though Yoshinaga is as talky as ever, much of her delightful spark is gone.

While this may be an inevitability in such a politically dense story, the characters’ stilted manner of speech makes it difficult to know for sure. That said, there is not a single moment in this series so far that has not engaged me fully–quite a feat under the circumstances.

On the other hand, Yoshinaga’s artwork is more stunning than ever, employing a level of detail in costuming and background unusual for her work, yet retaining the elegant simplicity characteristic of her clean, expressive style. Her visual storytelling here is sophisticated and straightforward, with restrained panel layouts that suit the period and setting.

As a fan of Fumi Yoshinaga, josei manga, and the Viz Signature imprint, there is no question that a series like this, even just in theory, is a very exciting work. Fortunately, this truth extends beyond the theoretical and into the actual. Ooku is beautiful, engaging, and a very exciting work indeed. It is also challenging and ambitious enough to garner some real respect for josei manga in western fandom at last. And for that, I’m truly grateful.

Review copies provided by the publisher.

In this month’s column, Michelle starts us off with a look at Don’t Say Any More, Darling, deeming it enjoyable, if not quite the best of Yoshinaga’s work. I follow up with two favorites, Ichigenme… The First Class is Civil Law and The Moon and the Sandals. Michelle then wraps things up with a thoughtful take on Solfege.

We hope you’ll enjoy this special Yoshinaga edition of BL Bookrack. We’ll return next week with another Off the Shelf!

Don’t Say Any More, Darling | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Published by Juné (DMP) | Rated M (Mature 18+)

Don’t Say Any More, Darling is a collection of five stories by Fumi Yoshinaga—two of them not actually BL—that show glimmers of her future greatness but which are, at least in several cases, pretty durn weird.

The title story is the most straightforward boys’ love offering in the group. Kouhei and Tadashi have been friends since their school days, but the former has gone on to be a successful doctor while the latter is an impoverished lyricist who would probably starve if Kouhei didn’t stop by every once in a while. Kouhei’s parents are after him to meet a prospective bride—there’s a very amusing scene where they harangue him for being a “parasite single”—but when he meets his date, she only reminds him of Tadashi! Like most cheerful BL stories, this one ends with the boys in bed, but Yoshinaga gives this outcome a little twist by depicting Kouhei as comically traumatized by the experience.

“My Eternal Sweetheart” is the first of the weirder stories in the collection. Initially, it appears to be the story of an ailing teenager named Arthur whose immune deficiency syndrome prevents him from going outside and whose brother has built him a maternal android for a caretaker. It takes a turn when Arthur requests a male “sexaroid” to relieve his boredom, and a few other surprising twists follow. While I admire the plot of this story, it does contain an underaged sexaroid and quasi-incest, so things get a little creepy.

The two non-BL stories in the collection both have to do with making and then losing a connection with another person. In “Fairyland,” a bullied boy named Kaoru seems to have successfully wished all of humanity away. This gets rid of his tormentors, but also his family. When Kaoru meets another rare survivor, Ryohei, it seems he’s finally found someone who can understand and forgive his actions. In “One May Day,” a widower finds new love with a restaurant proprietor, only to quickly tire of her subservience and constant apologizing. This one is particularly short and odd.

My very favorite story in the collection is the last one, “The Pianist.” As a younger, haughtier man, Takayuki Date had some moderate success as a pianist and songwriter, but was never able to make it big. At the time, he never lacked for men, but now that he is older he’s having a hard time finding handsome younger guys willing to sleep with him. One day, he’s approached by a friendly college student and must figure out whether the young man is actually interested in him. The whole vibe of this story is wonderful—I really love how Yoshinaga handles the revelation that Date is not really the “debauched fallen genius” he pretends to be but rather simply lacked the talent necessary to achieve lasting success—and feels the most like Yoshinaga’s later works to me.

While Don’t Say Any More, Darling is not the best Yoshinaga manga available, it’s still intriguing and definitely worth a read.

- Review by Michelle Smith.

Ichigenme… The First Class is Civil Law, Vols. 1-2 | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Published by 801 Media (DMP) | Rated 18+ (Mature Content)

Kensuke Tamiya is a serious law student who finds himself in a zemi (a small, professor-led seminar) filled entirely with lazy rich kids who have come up through the university’s affiliated schools. It is there he meets Taka-aki Tohdou, the playboy son of a politician who kisses Tamiya at their zemi‘s drunken welcome party.

Later, when Tohdou makes a serious attempt to pursue him, Tamiya protests adamantly that he’s not gay, while secretly suppressing the truth he’s known for years. As Tamiya slowly comes to terms with his sexuality, his classmates struggle with school, scandal, and the often ugly workings of the social hierarchy set up for them by their elders.

Though advertised as a “campus love story,” Ichigenme is really so much more. It is, at once, a thoughtful take on a young man’s struggle with his sexuality, an idiosyncratic romance, a jaded commentary on sexual double-standards applied to female students in Japan, and a fairly scathing look at the Japanese affiliate school system.

One of the most gratifying elements of Yoshinaga’s yaoi works is the fact that she is not afraid to write about characters who identify as gay. With Ichigenme…, she takes that one step further by actually exploring what that means for her protagonist, who, even after admitting that he could never have sex with a woman, is reluctant to accept the truth of it. Tamiya’s anxieties follow him even into the bedroom, where, though he learns to discuss what he’s doing with surprising frankness, he is unable to be open about his feelings.

With Tamiya, Yoshinaga turns two yaoi tropes on their heads–the shy, reluctant uke and the genre’s resistance to the word “gay”– transforming them from myopic clichés into realistic neuroses that actually add dimension to the character. As a result, Tamiya and Tohdou’s relationship is wonderfully awkward and slow to develop, with its sexual and romantic progression never quite in the same place.

This is particularly significant to the series’ second volume, which might otherwise be just a series of increasingly explicit sex scenes. Thankfully, the complexity of both these men and their relationship drives the story all the way through to the end. Though a second couple is introduced halfway through the second volume, presumably to add fresh romantic momentum, this diversion is hardly necessary.

As always, Yoshinaga’s gift for dialogue creates a uniquely intimate feel, bringing life and complexity even to the story’s minor characters, especially Miho Terada, a smart, studious female classmate whose place at the university is called into question after her boyfriend sends a nude photo of her to a magazine. Despite the fact that this is essentially a romance manga, one of its most affecting scenes takes place between Terada and Tamiya, in which he reveals his naiveté regarding her circumstances.

“You’re the victim here, Terada-san … it’s the guy who’s in the wrong,” Tamiya protests, to which she responds, “You’re the only one who would say that, Tamiya-chan. My father said that it was more shameful than being raped. And hearing that felt worse than being raped.”

Though Ichigenme… was released under DMP’s more explicit 801 Media imprint (and rightfully so), its sex scenes are so artful and so essential to the characters’ emotional journey, I’d consider it suitable for any adult reader, male or female, fan or non-fan.

If any of this sounds like over-praise, I promise you it’s not. Ichigenme… is a true favorite, and I recommend it with pleasure.

-Review by Melinda Beasi

The Moon and the Sandals, Vols. 1-2 | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Published by Juné (DMP) | Rated M (Mature 18+)

Kobayashi has a massive crush on his history teacher, Mr. Ida, but just as he’s about to confess, he discovers that Mr. Ida is embroiled in a stormy love affair of his own. As Ida pursues a future with his long-time lover, Hashizume, Kobayashi is left to find new love on his own.

When Kobayashi’s good friend and English studies savior, Rikuko, is injured in a traffic accident, she convinces her older brother, Toyo, to replace her as Kobayashi’s English tutor.

Toyo is arrogant and demanding, but working with Kobayashi seems to soften him, and in no time at all, Kobayashi has transferred his crush on Mr. Ida to his new English tutor. But can Toyo return his feelings? And what about Rikuko, who harbors the same feelings for Kobayashi?

Though this was her debut manga, Yoshinaga was already playing around with standard yaoi fantasies (in this case, the teacher/student relationship), working them ’round until they become genuinely true-to-life. As a result, Kobayashi’s crush on his teacher, Mr. Ida, reads as a poignant tale of unrequited first love rather than romantic fantasy.

This relationship rings true throughout the series, especially in a scene late in the first volume, when Kobayashi seeks out his teacher, the only gay adult he knows, to ask for information on gay sex. Ida’s discomfort with the question leaves Kobayashi pretty much to fend for himself, but it’s the reaction from Ida’s lover that makes the whole thing worthwhile.

“You’re clearly the one in the wrong here,” Hashizume says. “Homosexuals are a social minority. There aren’t many with whom we can discuss our problems, either … If he can’t ask you, who else can he ask?”

Another area where Yoshinaga really shines here is in her treatment of Kobayashi’s friend, Rikuko. One of several general complaints that can be made about yaoi as a whole is a lack of female characters in a genre written largely by women, for women. Though it wouldn’t be reasonable to expect female characters in the lead in a genre specifically portraying romance between males, it’s rather depressing to note just how often women and girls are dismissed entirely as people of worth in yaoi manga, occasionally to the point of outright misogyny. Fortunately, Yoshinaga frequently writes women into her yaoi, and she writes them well.

Not only is Rikuko a rich, nuanced character with real hopes and dreams (including a promising future as a doctor, as shown in volume two), but her confession to (and rejection by) Kobayashi is written with a level of subtlety and understanding that speaks honestly to generations of high school girls (past and present) who have had the misfortune to fall in love with their gay best friends.

Click each to enlarge, right-to-left.

Images © Fumi Yoshinaga. English translation © Digital Manga Publishing.

The series’ second volume, a series of vignettes designed primarily to accommodate sex scenes, lacks the cohesion and depth of the first. Yet even these scenes are emotionally driven and rooted firmly in the rich character development established during the first volume. Though the first volume can be enjoyed entirely on its own, readers who seek out the second volume will find some real gems scattered within, such as a scene late in the volume regarding Toyo’s plans to come out to his parents.

Simply put, The Moon and the Sandals is utterly charming, recommended for any fan of smart, romantic manga.

- Review by Melinda Beasi

Solfege | By Fumi Yoshinaga | Published by Juné (DMP) | Rated YA (16+)

The important thing to remember about Solfege is that it’s not actually a love story. Instead, it’s the portrait of an unsympathetic music teacher named Kugayama who is a wretched human being but is still capable of bringing something positive into the world by fostering a life-long love of music in his students.

The story begins with Kugayama imparting the basics of music unto Tanaka, a youth who looks like a delinquent but loves singing and dreams of attending a music high school. Kugayama doesn’t have very high hopes for Tanaka’s chances, but is surprised when his student ends up exceeding his expectations. When Tanaka’s mother collapses and ends up spending over a year in the hospital, Kugayama allows the boy to stay with him and pays for Tanaka to study voice with another teacher named Gotoh.

Once Tanaka’s mother recovers, he moves back home, but she promptly begins bringing men home and he turns up at Kugayama’s house again just when his former teacher is drunk and feeling horny. Kugayama proceeds to use his position as the most-admired person in Tanaka’s life to seduce his impressionable young student, and this is where I really started to hate the guy. I wished for Yoshinaga to accurately portray how traumatized a physically mature but emotionally vulnerable kid like Tanaka would be by this experience. Instead, he’s completely okay with the arrangement and the two continue to sleep together. I was disappointed.

I should’ve had faith in Yoshinaga, though, because once Gotoh finds out what’s going on, he takes immediate steps to remove Tanaka from Kugayama’s clutches. While Tanaka heads abroad to study music in Italy—and eventually becomes a success—Kugayama starts up a relationship with a Tanaka lookalike named Jun and, again, gets what’s coming to him for being such a screwed-up jerk. Scandal ensues, and it’s up to a grown-up Tanaka to meet with Kugayama again—as equals this time—and remind him of what it is that he does best.

I did not find Solfege to be in the least little bit romantic—and I’m honestly not sure how anyone could—but I did find it a complex and fascinating character study as well as a refreshing alternative to student-teacher romances that carry no repercussions for persons in a position of authority.

- Review by Michelle Smith

Garden Dreams tells the story of Farhad, a young boy orphaned by the Crusades, who is rescued from the desert by Saud, one of his own people who has lost his family as well. The two make a living as traveling musicians, which eventually brings them to the estate of a foreign baron.

This visit will transform both of their lives, reuniting Saud with a loved one he thought long gone and providing Farhad with a new family and a place to call home.

Though Farhad’s story is the thread holding this manga together, the volume is actually a series of short tales, including a substantial look into the baron’s tragic past. This structure reads like a bit of a tease, with everything folding into a story-within-the-story by the end.

Though this isn’t exactly a bad thing, it does create a sense of distance between the reader and the characters unusual in Yoshinaga’s work. Absent is the intimacy offered up by series like Flower of Life, Antique Bakery, or Ichigemne…, replaced instead by the detached feel of an external narrator.

With this in mind, it’s no surprise that Yoshinaga’s normally chatty dialogue is subdued here as well, though this may be due to the period setting as much as anything else. Her style shines best with casual conversation, and there is little of that in this volume. That said, each of the stories has a classic, fairy-tale quality that is a pleasure in itself. There’s no lack of touching moments here, either, beginning from the manga’s opening pages.

Perhaps the most moving of these tales is the least like a proper story at all. In the volume’s final chapter, a letter is received from the baron’s adopted daughter, who earlier in the book had fled into the night with Farhad’s “brother” Saud. Weary of his inability to accept loss, the baron asks Farhad to commit suicide with him. Though this may sound horrid to the extreme, it’s actually quite poignant and so delicately drawn, it actually brought tears to my eyes.

Yoshinaga’s artwork brings out the best in these stories, which might otherwise fade quickly from memory. Her use of panel layouts to convey emotion in these particularly reserved characters is, frankly, quite stunning. Though I might miss the easy expressiveness of her talky, modern-day tales, it is a pleasure to watch the way in which she is able to bring forward strong feeling using other means.

Garden Dreams is by no means Yoshinaga’s best work, but its quiet meandering displays some true charms of its own.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

It’s another slow week in the manhwa blogosphere, so following up on last week’s poll, we’ll take a moment to ponder this year’s continuing manhwa series. But first, a look at the week in reviews.

Raiders (Yen Press) gets the most attention this week, with reviews of volume one from Liz Reed at Manga Life and volume three from Kate Dacey at The Manga Critic. At Comics Village, Lori Henderson takes a look at volume eight of Goong (Yen Press). And at the Tompkins County Public Library’s In My Opinion (IMO) Teen Book Blog, reviewer Emme talks about volume one of The Tarot Cafe (Tokyopop).

Far in the lead in last week’s poll for best new manhwa series of the year (so far) is Sirial’s One Fine Day (Yen Press). This week, let’s take a vote on continuing series.

Check back next week for the results! That’s all for this week!

Is there something I’ve missed? Leave your manhwa-related links in comments!