Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, Vol. 1

By Rifuin Na Magonote and Shirotaka. Released in Japan as “Mushoku Tensei – Isekai Ittara Honki Dasu” by Media Factory. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Tranlated by Kevin Frane and Paul Cuneo. Adapted by JY Yang.

As the URL of this review may indicate, I had reviewed the first volume of the Mushoku Tensei manga when it came out back in the day. I wasn’t all that impressed with it. That said, having finished the light novel that the manga is based on, I am changing my tune slightly. This reads much better in prose. In particular, it works its isekai tropes into the plot better than the manga, which tended to gloss over Rudy’s every action being influenced by his previous life. This was one of the first really popular isekai novels, and to a certain degree many other series either rip off or parody what’s going on here, meaning that sometimes you can be reading things and waiting for a punchline that isn’t coming because it’s taking things seriously. On the bright side, that’s rather refreshing, and I also enjoy that the series has time to flesh out the rest of its non-Rudy cast.

The book starts with a portrait of our hero’s previous life, and I would not blame the reader for giving up here, as he’s rather loathsome. Luckily, Truck-kun is there to take care of things, and in no time he finds himself reborn in a different world, with his previous memories intact. He resolves that he’s going to do a better job with his life this time around, and sets about trying to learn magic, learn swordplay, and be a good son. All this before he turns seven years old! Rudy tends to be a bit too perfect, much to the consternation of the family maid, and contrasts with his flaky father. But he’s also allowed to have some standard light novel character flaws, most notably being a perv (which can be unsettling given his age) and also mistaking a young elf girl for a guy just because she has short hair and is wearing pants.

I figure most people reading this are very familiar with reincarnation/isekai titles, and you’re not going to be surprised at what happens within when it comes to the setting. Lots of discussion of magic to a somewhat tedious degree, etc. Rudy’s teacher Roxy is quite interesting, and I was annoyed that she vanished halfway through the book – she deserves a spinoff manga of some sort. Possibly one coming out next week. Most impressive to me was Rudy’s family, and the depth they all had – his father Paul has trouble keeping it in his pants, and this could have led to disaster were it not for peacemaker Rudy. That said, Rudy may grow up to be like dear old Dad. There are a few moments in this book where the author suddenly remembers he has to be perverse, and they stick out oddly (Rudy coming across Roxy masturbating while watching his parents having sex) and sometimes creepily (infant Rudy likes breasts based on his past life, and NO THANK YOU). At least the maid notices that it’s creepy.

I may not see much of Rudy’s family for a bit – in order to make sure that he and his somewhat codependent childhood friend don’t damage each otehr’s growth, his father sends him off to tutor some ways away, and that is presumably where the second book will start off. Moments of awkward sleaziness aside, I was pleasantly surprised with Mushoku Tensei, which takes its reincarnation premise seriously and doesn’t subvert, satirize or parody it.

Kitaro: Kitaro’s Yokai Battles

By Shigeru Mizuki. Released in Japan as “Gegege no Kitaro” by Kodansha and Shogakukan, serialized in various magazines. Released in North America by Drawn & Quarterly. Translated by Zack Davisson.

This is not the first time that we’ve seen Shigeru Mizuki write himself and his family into a manga. Heck, it’s not even the first time he’s been in Kitaro. But the story “Oboro Guruma”, which is the highlight of this volume, really takes it further and involves Mizuki in the most metatextual way possible. At a coffeeshop he’s going to to avoid work and family (remember, no one puts himself down quite like Mizuki does), he runs afoul of the yakuza, but is saved by… Kitaro and Nezumi Otoko, who are in the same coffeeshop. He brings them home and lets them stay with his family, and they start to bond with the local neighbors. But then the entire town is covered in a strange gas, isolating it from the rest of Japan. The story alternates between what’s actually happening (it’s a yokai – try to contain your shock) and how Mizuki is dealing with it (by being somewhat weak and lazy – again, try to contain your shock).

Every single review of these titles I seem to talk about Nezumi Otoko, so I will confine myself this time to noting that the volume opens with him seeing Kitaro on a horse, hitting him over the head with a club, dope slapping him, and stealing the horse. It’s so beautifully in character I wanted to cry. Instead, though, I will talk about Kitaro, who actually isn’t at his best here. Kitaro tends to be a cypher at the best of times, and while he can sometimes be pretty righteous for the most part he tends to go with the flow in a stoic sort of way. The usual Kitaro way of fighting is to somehow get killed/beaten up, come back in a weird supernatural way, and then find a way to defeat the yokai that did him harm. In this volume, though, he really seems to be put through the wringer, and there’s less of him being clever.

Kitaro as a manga tends to be somewhat silly, particularly in the resolutions, and this one tops itself quite a bit. I was highly amused at Kitaro almost getting killed by having teeth spit at him, and the poop gags that tend to be rife in shonen manga of this period are here as well, as at one point the victims of a yokai are excreted. Topping them all, though, is Kitaro getting the crap kicked out of him, to the point where his head is covered in bumps (cartoon-style)… and then having those bumps launch as missiles to counterattack. It’s so incredibly silly, and yet it also shows off the sheer brilliance of Mizuki’s imagination. He may confine himself to yokai here, but you see why – despite telling essentially the same story over and over (a yokai is doing bad things, Kitaro stops it), the series is never boring.

I believe that the next volume, out early next year, will be the final one in these omnibus collections. They’re all worth picking up. Kitaro is a style of manga that is both very reminiscent of the late 60s manga style and yet also timeless. It’s also very re-readable. Highly recommended.

No Game No Life, Vol. 8

By Yuu Kamiya. Released in Japan by Media Factory. Released in North America by Yen On. Translated by Daniel Komen.

It’s a No Game No Life volume, so you sort of know what you’re going to get by now. A lot of faffing around and being stupid and/or appalling while Steph (and the reader) tries to figure out what Sora and Shiro are thinking. Sora being reprehensibly perverted, and honestly I think him being a cowardly virgin deep down makes it MORE annoying. The fact that this is a writer who writes awkward prose in Japanese being translated awkwardly into English, meaning sometimes you have to go reread the previous paragraph to figure out what was just said. In amongst this, however, there are the usual good things lurking near the bottom, including a good discussion of war games vs. actual war, and the “villain” of the book, whose road towards becoming more emotional in her constant inquisitiveness is a good one in the end. And Steph. Steph is always good, though you have to put up with her being constantly belittled by everyone in the world.

We pick up where we left off last time, with Sora and Shiro (and Steph) being forced to replicate the last War and understand how it was resolved. This is, of course, impossible, mostly as, despite the obvious attempts by the narrator to make us think it in Book 6, Sora and Shiro are not Riku and Schwi, nor can they be. More to the point, as Sora point out, there’s a big difference between a game of war and war in reality: a game ends. When you “win” in war, you have to think about what happens next, unlike your typical game of Axis and Allies. Moreover, while this is going on on Old Deus’ gaming board, the remaining players are all trying to betray each other in the real world, which doesn’t go well. For anyone. And then there’s the matter of the traitor who was mentioned before, which is actually one of the subplots I felt was handled quite well.

In any case, by the end of the book we have what appears to be a new regular, and we also have some old “friends”, Chlammy and Fiel, who are also going to be hanging around now that Sora has, in effect, ruined their lives. Steph helped, and possibly my favorite moment in the book was when she looked away guiltily – but not that guiltily. Steph may dislike Sora’s perversions – I do as well – but she gets how he thinks, and was the first to point out a major aspect of [ ]’s gaming strategy, as well as Tet’s, which is to have fun. A lesson that everyone else in the cast, as well as many “serious” gamers in real life, could use. Of course, now that we’ve resolved this plot another is coming, as we appear to be gearing up for another invasion by …German robots?

As ever, No Game No Life remains intensely frustrating and annoying (everything about the elves in the war game was appalling and awful, and I don’t care that it was deliberately so), and it’s genuinely difficult to read at times. But there are moments when you can see the talent of the author shine though, and they’re excellent. Mildly recommended.