Alice in the Country of Clover: Cheshire Cat Waltz, Vol. 7

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By Quin Rose and Mamenosuke Fujimaru, based on the game by Quin Rose. Released in Japan as “Clover no Kuni no Alice – Cheshire Neko to Waltz” by Ichijinsha. Released in North America by Seven Seas.

(Note: this reviews mentions THAT Alice spoiler later on. You know the one.)

Now that this series has finally come to an end, I think it’s a good time to take a look at it in a larger context. Volume-wise, it’s the longest Alice series to date. However, many of these volumes were bloated up with side stories – some featuring Alice and Boris, some not – to the point where I suspect the actual content would struggle to make it to 5 volumes if put together on its own. Overall, I think the series was successful, but its tendency to meander and focus on the romance over the darker themes make it perhaps midrange in overall quality. Let’s see if we can pin down what it did best.

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First off, the premise of the Clover world spinoffs (as opposed to Hearts) is that Alice has been there longer and is finding love with someone she already has a friendship with, as opposed to a sudden passionate love. I think it does a pretty good job of that here – much as I’m not a fan of the romance part of this series in general, the author does a good job of showing us Alice and Boris’ friendship, and how that’s affected by their growing love. It also shows off dealing with Boris’ cat-like tendencies – he can wander off, or seem aloof, and is quite changeable – as well as Alice’s mood swings and anger issues. And, of course, jealousy. It didn’t really knock me out, but as a romance it’s perfectly sweet.

The other thing I think this manga did very well is the attention that it gave to the ‘faceless’ inhabitants of Wonderland. Our view of this world has almost entirely come from Alice and the 12 ‘role-holders’, all of whom are naturally drawn to her by their very existence. The faceless are meant to be bodies filling out the story, so unimportant they don’t even get eyes. And yet Alice can tell then apart, something that mildly astounds everyone else. What’s more, here they are shown to have goals and lives beyond support of the heroes and heroine. Some are plotting a takeover against the hatter, some are jealous of Alice’s ability to get someone to love her whether she likes it or not, and some are just doing a job, even if it means their death. I’m still not certain about the faceless overall, but I have a much greater understanding of them after reading this.

And then there’s Lorina. This is the second book we’ve seen recently where Alice is shown abandoning the real world and staying in Wonderland with her love. I’ve discussed how this makes me slightly uncomfortable, something I think is entirely intentional on the author’s part. Cheshire Cat Waltz is not as dark and twisted as, say, Joker and Liar’s Game, however, so we see Alice, who’s having another post-traumatic breakdown, visited by Lorina’s spirit, who reassures her that it’s OK to forget and move on, and that her death (looks, it’s been 15+ books, I am now prepared to reveal the horrible secret of the Alice books) was not Alice’s fault. So her stay in Wonderland is couched in terms that make it look less like escaping from reality and more like accepting this is her new reality. How you feel about that depends on how you view the Alice series as a whole, I think.

As for the major drawback of the series, well, it meanders. It meanders even more than my reviews do. And just when each volume seems to be leading up to an exciting bit, the story ends halfway through so that we can get either side-stories of Alice and Boris in the Hearts world, or even worse, Crimson Empire side-stories that have nothing to do with this world at all. Read all at once, it must be more tolerable. Read over the course of a year, it’s a mess.

Still, overall, I’m pleased to have read this. Alice and Boris are cute, and it fleshed out the personalities of the non-Hatter cast a lot more. (The Hatter cast got a lot to do as well, but they always do.) It’s a good read for fans of the series. Just be prepared for the story to start and stop a lot.

Sweet Rein, Vol. 1

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By Sakura Tsubasa. Released in Japan as “Yoroshiku Master” by Hakusensha, serialized in the magazine LaLa DX. Released in North America by Viz.

It’s rare to find a manga series with so many things I’m wary of and so many things that I love in the same package. Sweet Rein manages to hit all my buttons, both the good and bad ones. It’s fortunate that it’s only a 3-volume series, as I suspect this isn’t sustainable in the long-term, but as a short romantic comedy, it’s quite readable. Even the unrelated short story at the end manages to be deeper than I thought while also briefly appalling me. Sweet Rein pulls in about ten different directions.

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The first thing that surprised me is the degree to which this is a magical girl series. Animal companion (who is also the romantic lead, but let’s save that for another paragraph) finds a somewhat melancholic girl dissatisfied with her life and shows her that she can bring happiness to the world. In this case, the animal companion is a reindeer who is actually a young man named Kaito. His entire family is reindeer (on his mother’s side), and when he meets our heroine, Kurumi, it’s love at first sight. In fact, it’s more than that. The Japanese title of this series translates as “Hello, Master!”, and it becomes clear that Kaito is bound to Kurumi, both physically and emotionally. This doesn’t bother him at all, but gives her some difficulties. What part of his feelings are his own heart, and what is the magic “making” him love her?

Because this is a magical girl series deep down, I was a bit more forgiving of some of the more ridiculous plot contrivances, though the Spirit of Christmas curing cancer was a bit much even for me. It’s far more fun to focus on Kurumi, who is a more down-to-earth and practical person than many shoujo heroines, and doesn’t even crack a smile till towards the end of the first chapter. Her background will be familiar to readers of this genre – mother long dead, father works long hours to support them so he’s never home, all her friends out with guys for Christmas. The Japanese reading of Christmas as being “Love + Santa” really comes into play here, with little to no religious subtext. (And thank God for that.) As for the reindeer thing, it would seem that Kaito’s body is ‘default human’, so I can deal. They do make a cute couple.

The side story is unrelated to the main action, being a one-shot about an immortal vampire (who looks like a cute young man) being saddled with a daughter from a woman that he had bedded some time ago. Most of the chapter is actually decent, with a good look at what it’s like to be an immortal and watch everyone you love die, and a nice vampire mythology that basically makes “turning” someone pot luck – either they die or they become vampires, they usually die, and it’s not controllable. Unfortunately, the entire thing is nearly upended by a very unfortunate choice at the end, where the art and storyline dovetail in exactly the way I was hoping they wouldn’t the moment this little girl showed up. Bleah.

Overall, though, I think the good parts of this manga outweighed the bad. It’s the sort of series that I suspect you shouldn’t think too deeply about, which makes it a bad fit for me but a great choice for anyone looking for some Christmas escapism.

The Mysterious Underground Men

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By Osamu Tezuka. Released in Japan initially by Fujishobo; this edition was licensed from Tezuka Pro. Released in North America by PictureBox.

(Note: I spoil the ending in the review, be warned.)

I’m not sure that this manga, one of the first ones produced by the legendary Tezuka, can quite match the surreal heights of Picturebox’s first release, The Last of the Mohicans. It’s just as influential, but its style is more generic and the author’s early flaws show through a bit more. I think this actually works best as sort of a scholarly or critical edition, with the helpful essays by Ryan Holmberg providing a context that gives depth to what feels first time around like a pulpish adventure story. It will likely fare very well with rereads.

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The entire plot feels like an old Republic serial, and the accompanying essay does mention Flash Gordon as one of Tezuka’s big influences. The main thing you won’t see in a live-action adventure serial, though, is Mimio, the intelligent rabbit who is modified (in a quite disturbing sequence showing the horrors of science for science’s sake) into a humanoid rabbit with feelings and emotions, but in a world where that sort of creature is going to be a pariah. In a later work, this might be the bulk of the story’s premise, but here we also follow John, the young scientist who is trying to follow in the footsteps of his late father and build a tunnel through the Earth (because flying is dangerous), with the help of his rich uncle and the Snidely Whiplash-esque Ham Egg, who many Tezuka fans will know is the villain the moment they see him.

What made this manga so influential to other Japanese artists and writers, of course, was the ending. I’ll admit, I found it rather curt and over the top melodramatic, but killing off one of the main characters and ending on a depressing note was a big sea change in the world of manga right then. Indeed, Tezsuka would come back to this basic storyline both in the 60s and 70s, revising and expanding, something he was known to do with several works (see also Princess Knight). I found it rather sad, given that Mimio not only wasn’t on the cover but didn’t make the cast of characters page. His death is the tragic ending, yet the book’s very design designates him to the forgotten extra pile. (Though this may be to avoid pointing out his disguises later on.)

The one thing this does have in common with its earlier Picturebox neighbor is seeing how the artists worked Western influences into the artwork of the title. Again, Holmberg’s essay is vital here, as the first time through you may simply read the story and characterization and miss the designs. I’d mentioned Flash Gordon, but there’s a lot of Disney here as well, as you’d expect from Tezuka. I also spotted the Popeye faces right off the bat. What I wasn’t expecting was Chic Young’s Blondie to be such a huge influence. Not only is John’s house and several poses reminiscent of Dagwood Bumstead, but the physician who watches over Mimio’s end is none other than Mr. Dithers! I’m not sure you could get away with that these days.

I definitely enjoyed this book, but I enjoyed it more from an academic, historical standpoint. If you’re the sort that loves to look at panels so see which issue of Bucky Bug this corresponds to, or to find out how this title resonates in a larger historical context, than this is the book for you. Well-researched, in a nice small size, and a good example of how, even when his writing is somewhat unformed and amateurish, Tezuka can still fascinate.