The Economics of Prophecy: Dealing with Guild Politics in Another World

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By Norafukurou and Rei Shichiwa. Released in Japan by Legend Novels (Kodansha). Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by Hikoki.

I have to admit, if you asked me what the next volume of The Economics of Prophecy, a work whose core audience is made up of older men already in the Japanese workforce, would be about, “school festival arc” is not what would have sprung to mind. And yet our heroes are at a school for sons and daughters of guild nobility, and therefore it stands to reason that a festival would be just as cutthroat as anything else. Naturally, it’s once again the strong vs. the slightly less strong, with Ricardo (who presents himself as the weakest but is anything but) trying to walk a fine line so that he can get what he wants in the end. The fine line is the most interesting part of this book, as it becomes clear to the reader that denseness about women might not be Ricardo’s only fault; he doesn’t really seem to realize how deep into the political world he has to get till it’s spelled out for hi8m at the end.

As you might expect, the school festival is an excuse for the kids to show off their future inheritance, with the best rooms taken by the stronger family simply by dint of rewriting the rules. Ricardo and Mei do not have a booth (they are, after all, a mere copper family) but they do need to help Alfina the Prophecy Princess, who has been exiled to a courtyard because she has her own politics to deal with. Also, one of the lesser families’ heirs is Mei’s friend (though you get the sense that Mei is less and less thrilled with this as the weeks go on), and, most importantly, he happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and gets drawn in. That said, he has a plan. A plan that involves modernizing this kingdom’s concept of dining to take in the outdoor cafe and the single-plate lunch.

I noted the first volume was a bit dry, and that’s also a fault with the second volume: the start in particular is a massive economics lecture that will make you yearn for the plot to begin. Once it does, however, the book picks up considerably: the interfamily politics and Ricardo’s navigating through it all with ease is immensely fun (he’s just as OP as any other isekai hero, just in terms of economic theory and political savvy). He continues to be unaware that both Alfina and Mei are in love with him, and in fact explicitly notes that Alfina, due to his live lived in Japan added to his years here, is more of a niece to him. He’s also, however, of the impression that he can magically manipulate events behind the scenes to perfection, explain exactly how he did so, and then quietly go back to his honey company and keep plugging away. That is just not going to happen, as the families explain to him at the end. It’s amusing.

There’s setup for a third book towards the end, a book that, as of this review, has not come out in Japan. So it may be a while before we see more of this. Still, if you want less dungeon crawling and magical swords and more explanations of sunk cost fallacies, this is the series for you.

Adachi and Shimamura, Vol. 1

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By Hitoma Iruma and Non. Released in Japan by Dengeki Bunko. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Molly Lee.

It is, to be honest, rare that a light novel catches me completely by surprise. For one thing, I tend to spoil myself as to what the content of a series is going to be. I thought I knew about this one. I knew it was an extremely popular yuri light novel series. I also knew it was supposed to be a bit boring. Both are true. The story begins with Adachi and Shimamura already knowing each other (though we get a later flashback to how they meet). They’re both delinquents who tend to cut class. Adachi, the black-haired girl, is seemingly stoic and unapproachable. Shimamura, who has dyed light brown hair, is more open and has more friends than the aloof Adachi, but also seems to have a disconnect when it comes to emotions. Seeing them flapping around in their interior monologue trying to connect is what’s meant to be the point of the book. That said, it doesn’t quite keep the reader’s attention. Then the girl in the spacesuit shows up…

So yes, this is my own fault. I knew that the author of this series has written a large number of other series for both Dengeki Bunko and other publishers (including the Bloom Into You light novel spinoffs). I had also heard of the much older series Ground Control to Psychoelectric Girl (Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko), but didn’t realize that it was also by this author. And that series has, as one of its supporting cast… a girl who dresses in a spacesuit and has seemingly supernatural powers. In the context of that other series, which stars another girl who says she is an alien, Yashiro as a mysterious maybe alien with supernatural abilities works fine. But when she shows up here and starts hanging out in what is, let’s face it, the cast of K-On! without the band, it’s quite jarring. Especially when she takes over the scenes she’s in… and proves to be more interesting than the two leads.

Let’s get back to the title characters. Three fifths of the book is narrated by Shimamura, and is the poorer for it. I’m not sure what the author is really trying to convey with her headspace. She seems to be pretending to be a normal, outgoing high school girl to hide her own inner lack of empathy and interest, but she’s too good at it externally and too bad at it internally, so it doesn’t quite come off. She’s the reason the book is seen as dull. When the narrative shifts to Adachi, things pick up a great deal, as she has the actual character conflict – she’s in love with Shimamura, something she starts the book off denying (in the classic “not in a gay way or anything!” sense) but accepts, at least to herself, by the end of the book. I think she’d have confessed to Shimamura on their “date” if Yashiro hadn’t ruined her chances. Hopefully future books will give Shimamura the chance to develop beyond “how do I connect to other humans” as well.

So I am very fifty-fifty about this book. The most interesting character in it is from another series. The narrator for most of the book struggles to connect with not only everyone around her but also the reader. On the other hand, Adachi’s inner monologue of panicked love epiphany was genuinely involving. I’ll be reading another volume, but so far it’s more Adachi than Shimamura for me.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Isekai

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By SAKKA KEIHAN and Shinobu Shinotsuki. Released in Japan by the authors at Comiket 96. Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by Emily Balistrieri, Noboru Akimoto, Roy Nukia, Andrew Cunningham, Andrew Hodgson, and Mike Langwiser.

First of all, I really like the fact that this was licensed. I appreciate publishers taking a flyer on titles like this, especially when it’s something that was not published professionally in Japan, but rather was the author’s own fan work they sold at one of the Comikets. It’s also an amusing idea, the sort of thing you can imagine a writer’s group brainstorming about – deconstructing and parodying the isekai genre by putting themselves into the genre, and showing the pitfalls that most isekais manage to avoid by not thinking about them too closely. These stories think about things far too closely, and that’s part of the humor. It’s also a doujinshi, so it’s not too long (and don’t expect illustrations beyond the cover art – these are writers, not artists). That said, I feel it could stand to be a bit shorter. The danger of anthologies is that you find stories you like and stories you don’t, and this did not have a great batting average overall.

The cover art alone should tell you how seriously to take it. We start with Carlo Zen (the author of The Saga of Tanya the Evil) writing isekai as a travel guide for tourists. Tappei Nagatsuki (the author of Re: ZERO) then steps in with what amounts to a broadsided attack/homage of his friend Natsume Akatsuki’s work KonoSuba, as well as other “goddess grants you powers” works. Natsuya Semikawa (the author of Otherworldly Izakaya Nobu) has the isekai as a day trip to escape the burdens of deadlines. Natsu Hyuuga (the author of The Apothecary Diaries) writes the straightest isekai of the bunch, where they are not only transported to another world but are a “piglet” (the word “orc” is studiously avoided) and having trouble surviving; Katsuie Shibata trades on the fact that he took his penname from a Sengoku military commander and does the “accidentally summoned instead of someone else” story, and Hoko Tsuda is transported via delicious ramen into a “everyone mistakes everyone’s intentions all the time” world.

I’ll start with the good: Nagatsuki’s section is reason enough alone to buy this book, as it’s hilarious, especially if you’ve read KonoSuba. Getting hit by a truck, magical power lotteries, and Aqua herself (well, a 2nd rate expy of her) combine to make this tremendous fun. Carlo Zen’s section suffers from his dry, textbook prose (something Tanya readers will find familiar) but is an amusing “what about inoculations/money/customs declarations/etc.” guide. After that, though, things start to sink a bit, though I will admit I found the idea of Shibata’s (penname authors summoned as Sengoku commanders for a real fight) to be a very good one, but the execution was also a tad boring. Semikawa’s story was simply tedious, Hyuuga’s was far too normal (it read like a standard isekai), and Tsuda’s, I suspect, depends on knowing the work that he is riffing on, which I do not.

So again, your mileage may vary, and I like the concept and would like to see more author anthologies like this. But this particular anthology had more misses than hits for me.