Legend of the Galactic Heroes: Ambition

By Yoshiki Tanaka. Released in Japan as “Ginga Eiyū Densetsu” by Tokuma Shoten. Released in North America by Haikasoru. Translated by Daniel Huddleston.

In the first volume, we saw the Galactic Empire and the Free republic spend most of the book at war with each other. This time around, they spend most of the book at war with themselves. Reinhard is not the best at making friends and influencing people, and so the aristocracy decide to take him out in a coup. Meanwhile, knowing that he needs the republic to be distracted while this is going on, Reinhard plants a traitor in order to start a coup on the republic side, which will keep Yang Wen-Li busy doing what he hates the most – fighting military battles. By the end of the book, both Yang and Reinhard have suffered grievous losses, though you could argue that Yang’s is merely sad, while Reinhard’s amounts to a grand tragedy of epic proportions.

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This series has a huge cast, to be frank, bordering on the ridiculous. I will not blame the reader from getting completely lost among the Empire’s admirals, not knowing their Wittenfelds from their Mecklingers. That said, I never felt lost, mostly because, with the exceptions of the obvious main characters, the book is more about the plot than the characters. And it still has its obvious agenda – war is a tragic, horrible thing that devastates everyone. As with the first book, neither side comes off very well. The Empire is filled with arrogant scheming aristocrats who regard ‘the people’ as their toys, and indeed most of the latter half of the book hinges on such a jaw-droppingly heinous incident that I am reluctant to spoil further. As for the Republic, we see the dangers of the military assuming that they know what’s best for the people – sure, there’s martial law and no freedom of speech now, but freedom will return. really. Any day now.

If LOGH has a huge cast, it also has a reputation for killing that cast off. The aforementioned heinous incident leads directly to the most astonishing one, but (again trying not to spoil) its main purpose is also to show us that Reinhard is still stunningly immature at times, and can react just the way the aristocrats that he’s trying to put down do. I think the nest volume will be very important in seeing whether he manages to mature as a leader, or if he’s going to be the villain of the series. (The author is being very even-handed about both sides being tremendously flawed, though I suspect most Western readers will automatically side with Yang Wen-Li.) Speaking of Yang, he’s forced to admit at the end of the book that the republic’s own leader is a dangerous tyrant – and Yang feels a great desire to do something about it, something that goes against his very nature.

Having introduced most of the backstory in book 1, the second book does not feel quite as much like a history lesson. The translation can still get pompous and didactic, but again, I’m fairly sure the original was exactly like that as well. And the space battles are described well enough that even those uninterested in such things will be drawn in. I suspect the third volume will be a giant signpost as to where the rest of the series is heading – I highly look forward to it.

Queen Emeraldas, Vol. 1

By Leiji Matsumoto. Released in Japan by Kodansha, serialized in the magazine Weekly Shonen Magazine. Released in North America by Kodansha Comics. Translated by Zack Davisson.

Sometimes you don’t read a manga for its plot, or characters, or artwork. Sometimes you read a manga because of its mood. You need something that’s evocative, that’s lyrical, that takes you into a different headspace – that of pirate ships in space, and betrayal and heartache, and the repeated narration of a gorgeous scar-faced woman who seems to know she’s speaking to the reader. If you need this, I have good news for you, as Queen Emeraldas is all this and more, and it’s in an omnibus hardcover edition to book, with expensive paper stock. Of course, don’t just get it as a collector’s item. Get it because it’s Leiji Matsumoto at the height of his powers.

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The Japanese audience, of course, is familiar with Emeraldas by the time this manga first appeared in the late 1970s. Matsumoto had carved out worlds for everyone – Galaxy Express 999, Space Battleship Yamoto, Captain Harlock – and she was part of the extended cast that flit through these worlds. Let’s just say if she reminds you of Maetel, that’s not an accident. No worries about being lost here, though, as this is her own self-contained title, where she plays a mentor role to a young, driven boy – Hiroshi Umino – who wants to build his own spaceship and go to space. These aren’t just hollow words, either. He does so twice during the course of this volume, though his drive is perhaps somewhat better than his spaceship-building capability. He keeps running into Emeraldas, who stops what she’s doing to prevent him getting killed by the many people and creatures that try to stop him. And along the way, we even get a bit of her own backstory.

Harlock was once rewritten to fit in with Wagner’s Ring Cycle, and reading this it’s not surprising that the two would intermesh – this is not so much a story as it is high opera, with Emeraldas functioning both as the title character and as the chorus. The manga definitely feels like a weekly title, and unlike similar titles the narrative makes no effort to smooth out the constant repetition of who Emeraldas is and why she travels the stars. But she’s not the only one. Characters expound upon their hopes and dreams, and except for Hiroshi, these dreams are mostly shattered or abandoned for various reasons. But their stories also serve to inspire and educate. There’s also some bad guys as well, and the manga does not shirk on the violence – one spoiled rich daughter who tries to have Hiroshi murdered is shot by a firing squad organized by her own father.

There’s not much ongoing plot to follow here, and the characters are mostly static throughout the book. You don’t care, though, because the book is thrilling, and moody, and shows you how cold and vast space really is, and how this can make many people as cool as Emeraldas is. It’s not so much a manga as it is a song. But you’ll want to listen to it again and again.

Liselotte & Witch’s Forest, Vol. 1

By Natsuki Takaya. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Hana to Yume. Released in North America by Yen Press.

Backstory is important when you’re reading fictional works. It helps to show depth to the characters, show that they’re meant to be real people and not just caricatures. And it can kickstart a plot, or add some tragedy to give emotional catharsis. Occasionally, though, you run into a problem, and it’s especially true of first volumes of manga, where you have to wait a while to see what happens next? Liselotte & Witch’s Forest, by the author of Fruits Basket, has that problem – at least for me. Liselotte is the princess of a feudal family, who took up arms and warred against her brother for control of the land. She lost, and now she’s in exile in the middle of a somewhat fantastical forest, along with two servants and a mysterious young man who reminds her of her lost love.

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The difficulty here is twofold. First, the badass princess going up against her family with a sword is literally less than a 2-page spread, and we don’t even see her face. The majority of the volume is dedicated to seeing the somewhat inept at common things princess trying to make the best of it, seeing her servants be a) frustrated and b) stoic about the whole thing (the servants are polar opposite twins, and I can’t help but be reminded of Hiro and Kisa, to be honest), and discovering the aforementioned vague supernatural forest. We don’t quite see the witch herself, though her presence is felt. We do see her familiar, who is the equivalent of a 5-year-old pretending to be a badass grownup. And then we have Engetsu, who seems to clearly be related to whoever is in Liselotte’s past, but is also clearly connected to the witch, though we’ll no doubt find out more in future volumes.

So yes, I’m complaining about the plot I didn’t get, and I know I should just read Yona of the Dawn if I want that. What I do get is thoroughly pleasant, with Liselotte being a bit useless at cooking and gardening but with a good heart, though it’s quite clear why her male servant tends to spend his days in a state of apoplexy. I’m not sure how dark this will get, or whether we will see more figures from her past. As always with Takaya’s works, she’s best at conveying people with terrible sadness inside them who nevertheless show a smiling face to the world. Tohru was like that, and I’ve no doubt that Liselotte will be the same. Of course, the series is still mostly lighthearted – the male servant, Alto, provides half of the comedy moments, and is highly amusing. (The other half come from the witch’s familiar and his puppy villain antics).

We have four more volumes till we catch up with Japan. The series is currently on hiatus while Takaya writes a sequel to Fruits Basket that’s running online, I believe. I worry this means Liselotte isn’t popular – worst case, it may be like Millennium Snow and keep readers waiting a while while the author does something else. But I’m ready to read on, and look forward to the next volume, even if it doesn’t have a sword-swinging princess.