Arakawa Under the Bridge, Vol. 1

By Hikaru Nakamura. Released in Japan in two separate volumes by Square Enix, serialized in the magazine Young Gangan. Released in North America by Vertical Comics. Translated by Andrew Cunningham.

Some series work better in collected in volumes, and some work better in a magazine next to other titles that aren’t very much like it. I’m pretty sure that Arakawa Under the Bridge is one of the latter. Of course, since we don’t have too much opportunity to read Young Gangan over here, we’re only getting the volumes – and even worse, this is an omnibus edition, collecting two of them at once. I say “even worse” even though I did enjoy Arakawa a great deal, but it is, at heart, a gag comic, with its chapters being approximately 6-8 pages, and such series always have to deal with the question of “can this hold up when we get to Vol. 7 or 8?”. Even Nakamura’s other famous (and unlicensed) series, Saint Young Men, deals with this, as despite its fantastic and slightly blasphemous premise, it’s much the same – it rides on its weird humor. So far, though, Arakawa is worth the read.

The premise is paper-thin. Our hero is a successful, rich young man who lives his life (thanks to his somewhat abusive father) with the philosophy “never be in debt to anyone”. Then, through a series of ridiculous circumstances, he gets his life saved by Nino, a self-proclaimed Venusian woman who lives under one of the city bridges of the Arakawa river (so no, she is not the Arakawa under the bridge). He is thus forced to try to repay her so that he can move on with his life… which proves impossible, and he soon finds himself inveigled in her world as part-boyfriend, part-tsukkomi, meeting a series of increasingly ridiculous people who also live under the bridge. Despite apparently being a young heir with an important job in a highrise, no one from his family or friends ever comes looking for him. The outside world is not important in this. It’s about the weirdos.

Supposedly, Nino is the first of the weirdos that we meet, but she proves to be the calm, stable center of the series, her deadpan earnestness giving it grounding. It also allows the reader to make an emotional connection between her and “Recruit” (their nickname for our hero, which I tend to think of him as because his last name is too long), and I was surprised and pleased to find a few heartwarming, sweet moments scattered in among the zaniness. You actually want to see if they can form a real relationship. Might be a bit difficult, though, given the other cast members, which include a man who dresses as a kappa, a guy with a star for a head, a male nun who looks like he stepped out of the pages of Black Lagoon, a young yakuza wannabe girl, and a farm woman who confuses ‘teasing’ with abusive language.

As you might imagine, this series is for people who enjoy amusing, strange characters interacting. If you want narrative or character development, I’d look elsewhere. But Arakawa made me laugh, and by the end I wanted to see more of them. That’s the important thing.

Outbreak Company: The Power of Moe

By Ichiro Sakaki and Yuugen. Released in Japan by Kodansha. Released in North America by J-Novel Club. Translated by Kevin Steinbach.

It has almost become a running gag to say this, but I went into reading the first volume of Outbreak Company with rock-bottom expectations. The subtitle of the first volume alone made me roll my eyes, and the description of the plot didn’t help one bit. And yet once again, somehow, J-Novel Club has managed to snag a series that sounds wretched and shows that it’s actually pretty readable and entertaining once I get into it. Admittedly, the author is an old hand at novels rather than a web novelist turned published pro, which helps. Sakaki’s previous series include Scrapped Princess and Chaika the Coffin Princess, but we level up a bit here, as Outbreak Company has a Queen. The series is filled with cliches – our hero is an otaku and a bit of a perv, one heroine’s breasts are there to be pointed out every single time, and the Queen is sixteen but looks about eight. Fortunately, the book does things with these cliches.

Our hero is Shinichi, who’s living at home and has not been to school in about a year, but instead spends his life playing games, watching anime, and buying goods. After his parents give him an ultimatum (which may be the funniest scene in the novel, and I think was censored in the anime), he goes to find a job, and winds up interviewing at a sketchy company which tests his otaku knowledge. Mid-interview, he passes out and wakes up in a fantasy world. Turns out it’s connected to Japan, and the JSDF have assigned him to introduce otaku pursuits – anime, manga, etc. – to this fantasy kingdom. For cultural reasons. He’s assigned a maid (from the fantasy world) and a JSDF bodyguard (from Japan), both of whom are cute young women. And the Queen is also a cute young woman, as he observes the moment he sees her – though “little girl” is what her appearance screams. As the book goes on it seriously examines the ridiculousness of the premise, the casual racism and classism that infests the fantasy world, and whether Shinichi is really a good guy or not.

As I said, the series is rife with cliches, but they never actually descend to the creepy or annoying level, much to my surprise. Shinichi is a PG-rated otaku, looking at large breasts and going on about maids because he’s a teenager, but never going further than that, and he also has a genuine sense of right and wrong, which I suspect will get him in trouble in future books. His reaction to the treatment of Myucel, the half-elf maid who serves him (and falls in love with him almost immediately, mostly as he treats her like a real person) and Brooke (a lizardman servant, which does freak him out a bit at first) is not as subtle as the casual reader might like, but after so manty fantasy light novels where the reaction of the hero to slavery existing is “welp”, this is refreshing. And while he has a magic ring to communicate with others, it doesn’t work on other media, so translating is desperately needed – no easy outs in his new job.

This was clearly written from the start to be an ongoing series rather than “do the first one and we’ll see how it sells”, and it ends on a highly ambiguous note that makes the reader want to get the next book. I definitely will. As long as it sticks to gently poking at otaku cliches rather than leaping into them face-first, and keeps on tearing down the class and race-based structure of this fantasy universe, Outbreak Company is worth your time.

Slumbering Beauty, Vol. 1

By Yumi Unita. Released in Japan by Hakusensha, serialization ongoing in the magazine Rakuen Le Paradis. Released in North America by Seven Seas. Translated by Angela Liu, Adapted by Marykate Jasper.

It can be difficult sometimes when your name becomes synonymous with something notorious. Slumbering Beauty has a lot of things I love. A snarky, emotionally repressed heroine who gradually opens up to other people even as we see that her home life is a wreck. A premise that can involve “situation of the week” yet still have an ongoing plot. Twists that become much darker when you think about them. And some very amusing humor. That said, it’s still hard for me to get past “from the creator of Bunny Drop” and not think “uh oh”. Fortunately, so far there seems to be absolutely no sign of any imbalanced and unsettling relationships here, though I felt the same way when I started Bunny Drop. It’s a good series with a dollop of fantasy, and I’m interested to see where it goes, though we appear to have caught up with Japan already.

Our heroine is Yaneko, a high school girl who really loves to sleep – in fact, it’s difficult for her to get up every morning. This is a problem for the sleep spirit Nerimu, whose job it is to ensure that humans get enough sleep and wake up on time. Yaneko has one of these things down. She can also see him, for reasons that aren’t quite clear yet, and over the course of the series becomes an apprentice as she accompanies him on his rounds to quiet flailing babies, ease the brains of constantly texting young ladies, and otherwise become the Japanese Sandman (it’s not clear whether she has to sneak out with the dew as well). In her interactions with him, Yaneko begins to make real human friends – she was very much the loner no one talks to before – and develop a bit more empathy, and Nerimu, the sleep spirit, is there to guide her.

One of Nerimu’s fellow spirits suggests that he take her on as an apprentice, and this was the part of the book that fascinated me the most, as it almost feels like a metaphor for suicide. Yaneko is making a couple of friends now, but her home life is so oppressive – the reason she seems to sleep so much and so deeply is her parents fighting all the time – that at one point she readily agrees to take on Nerimu’s job. He has to talk her down from this, saying that in effect she will be vanishing from the world, and pointing out his own tragic situation from centuries earlier – it’s not that he misses his mother, it’s that he can no longer even remember her face. I am hoping that Yaneko resists the urge for a volume or two longer, as I’m liking the way she’s gradually opening up and starting to care about others.

As I said earlier, this is the only volume out in Japan, so be prepared for a wait for the next one. It’s pretty good, though, and shows off the author’s innate skill without having any of the disquieting plotlines of her prior series. Give it a look.