Once upon a time, a thousand years ago, there was a beautiful woman named Suigekka who used her magical abilities to help the people of Japan. The people feared and misunderstood her, however, and killed her after blaming her for the drought that had descended upon the land. A magician who loved her, Hira, went insane after Suigekka’s death and vowed revenge on humanity. He began to turn them into jaki, beings controlled by their negative feelings, while his younger brother, Saga, sought to protect people and undo their transformations. Fastforward into the present, where that inherited conflict is still going on. Tamaki Otoya, a descendant from Saga’s line, is the current shugoshi, or one tasked with exorcising jaki. Hira has reawakened, thanks to the reincarnation of Suigekka, and his quest for revenge continues. Tamaki must stop him, but personal feelings are making him hesitate.

While I originally found Phantom Dream to be confusing, it has really shaped up in the last couple of volumes, and now seems to’ve achieved a good balance between plot progression and character development. Events still tend to happen quickly, but motivations are clearer and moments of sacrifice carry more weight. Protagonist Tamaki has become a more sympathetic character, and I also quite like the story of Eiji, once his opposite number among Hira’s ranks, who defects to Tamaki’s side after learning Hira’s real reasons for creating jaki.

Also assisting to clear up the confusion is the desperately-needed glossary that makes its first appearance in this volume. Unfortunately, the “Story So Far” section includes a big spoiler that, while strongly inferred in volume two, is not confirmed until the early chapters of this volume. One might wish to steer clear.

All in all, Phantom Dream is not bad and is, in my estimation, superior to Takaya’s later work, Tsubasa: Those With Wings.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

From the back cover:
Tamaki Otoya is the last in a line of ancient summoners tasked to battle evil forces that threaten mankind. But when the rival Gekka family return to collect the demon sword Tamaki’s family stole centuries ago, a devastating secret is revealed! Tamaki is left in such a state of shock that he doesn’t even notice his beloved Asahi slipping away to the Gekka mansion…

Review:
I was pretty underwhelmed by the first volume in this series, finding it to be confusing and more interesting as a measure of Natsuki Takaya’s progression as a storyteller than for its own merits. Volume two is a big improvement, however; though the confusing elements persist, a potentially compelling story is beginning to take shape.

In this volume, more details about the feud between the members of the Gekka family, who use negative emotions to turn people into jaki, and the Otoya family, who are tasked with exorcising those people, are revealed. The current representatives of the families, Eiji and Tamaki, seem to bond a little over their shared burdens, but also engage in combat, as well. Some members of a branch family come to support Tamaki, leading to revelations about the reasons why more of the family is not rallying behind him. Asahi seems to feel a strange connection with a sword belonging to the Gekka family, which the Otoya family has sacrificed much to protect, but Eiji ends up in possession of the weapon after his cat demon minion manages to infiltrate the shields on the Otoya temple in an unexpected way.

That summary is distilled from a couple hundred pages of random and rapid plot developments, which brings up the biggest problem I have with Phantom Dream: major events happen too quickly, giving the progression of the story a rather slapdash feel. It’s possible that Takaya-sensei has meticulously planned out each new development, but they rush by without giving the reader enough time to appreciate what has happened. In the first volume, for example, I completely missed that a butterfly-loving boy whom Tamaki exorcised had volunteered to become a kind of reconnaissance spirit in Tamaki’s employ. This time, we’re barely given time to digest some news about Tamaki’s parentage before the sword is stolen, Tamaki’s mother dies, and Asahi goes missing, apparently on the verge of betraying Tamaki and awakening the Gekka king from his slumber.

Through the blur of these events, however, one is occasionally afforded a glimpse of what the story could’ve been if more time were devoted to allowing the main characters some reaction time. Tamaki and Eiji don’t seem to really hate each other; instead, they are bound by destiny and familial expectations to continue a pointless feud that’s been going on for a thousand years. Eiji, at times, doesn’t seem to want to do what he’s doing—and even seems to cherish some feelings of love for Tamaki—but does them nonetheless, causing Tamaki to have to fight him. I wish this element of the story had been played up a lot more, rather than the emphasis being on the secrets of Tamaki’s parentage.

Still, even with all of these problems, I find that I do like Phantom Dream, and substantially more than I like Tsubasa: Those With Wings. For all its speed, it’s still by far the more focused work, with a driving narrative that isn’t sidetracked by forays into “comedy.” It’s also more clearly the precursor to Fruits Basket, with a heroine whose sunny outlook proves of invaluable aid to the hero and even manages to get through to the ostensible villain of the piece.

32-year-old Akira Koji doesn’t know how to handle it when Torihara Yasuyuki, a coworker six years his junior, says, “You know… I have feelings for you.” He has always considered himself to be straight and ultimately decides not to take the confession seriously. Still, he can’t help being a bit curious. As he and Torihara continue to interact at work, bickering a good bit yet dancing closer to each other, he becomes more and more intrigued. Eventually, the two begin dating but insecurities rear their heads when it’s time to think about taking their relationship to the next level.

The basic plot of Dining Bar Akira isn’t anything new, but what Tomoko Yamashita does with the characters is fascinating. Both Akira and Torihara are grown, experienced men and have learned over the years to erect defenses in order to keep from being hurt. Even after they begin dating, they must work to earn each other’s trust. Akira, for example, swears that he does have feelings for Torihara, but the idea of being physically intimate frightens him, like if he makes such a life change at age 32, there’ll be no turning back. Torihara, meanwhile, has a habitually negative outlook that makes it hard for him to believe Akira’s not merely with him out of sympathy; he needs tangible proof. To avoid responsibility, Akira unconsciously attempts to rile Torihara enough that he’ll take the decision out of his hands, but both know it would mean nothing unless it’s a step he chooses to take himself.

I love it when the obstacles a couple faces come from within and Dining Bar Akira pulls this off admirably. Like the best boys’ love manga, it focuses on the universality of its characters’ situation—the struggle of two people who like each other to achieve true intimacy. That they both happen to be sexy, professional men is completely beside the point. In this way, it reminds me of Future Lovers. (Other similarities include its sense of humor and the way the more cynical member of the pair has trouble shaking the worry that he’s robbed his optimistic partner of the security that comes with traditional married life.)

If Dining Bar Akira has a flaw, it’s that it seems to end too abruptly, but I’m not convinced that this truly is cause for complaint. In the final chapter, Torihara and Akira have developed a daily routine, but the days are slipping by so peacefully that Torihara worries the relationship will one day just naturally dissolve. There’s no real resolution to that situation, which is a little frustrating from a reader’s point of view—I, at least, tend to appreciate neat and tidy endings—but isn’t that more realistic? After such a complicated depiction of two people wrestling with feelings of fear and love, wouldn’t it cheapen the story to cap it off with a trite happy ever after? A similar tactic is employed with “Foggy Scene,” one of a pair of short bonus stories that round out the volume.

Yamashita’s art reminds me of est em, and those familiar with the latter’s work will recognize that for the compliment it is. There’s an elegant, expressive feel to her drawings that spills over into the story itself; Dining Bar Akira is positively bereft of any artistic clichés one might expect to encounter in boys’ love manga. Both leads look like adult men, and supporting characters (in the form of fellow coworkers) tend to be the same, with some approaching middle age.

I was unfamiliar with Tomoko Yamashita’s manga before this, and I’m sure many would say the same. With work of this quality, though, I hope that won’t remain the case for too much longer.

Dining Bar Akira is currently available only at NETCOMICS.com, but a print edition will be available soon. Another Tomoko Yamashita title, Black-Winged Love, is due later this year. I’ll definitely be checking it out.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

From the back cover:
Hoping to clear the air between Shin and Chae-Kyung, the ladies of the court pressure the young couple to get more intimate. But even a night together may not be enough to push the two close. Amid lingering suspicious of Shin’s involvement with Hyo-Rin, Yul takes the offensive in claiming not only his right to the throne, but to Chae-Kyung’s heart as well… Will her commitment to her husband and her duty as crown princess prevail?

Review:
In this volume, Shin and Chae-Kyung are forced to spend a night alone together by order of the queen mother, who buys into the theory that Chae-Kyung’s recent poor health is caused by problems in her relationship with Shin, and that by forcing them to consummate their marriage, those problems will immediately evaporate. Alas, things do not go as planned. Later developments include Yul admitting his feelings to Chae-Kyung, an attempt to gain more political power for the royal family, a subplot involving the girl Shin used to like, and the news that Chae-Kyung’s grandfather has cancer.

It’s really impossible to convey the awesomeness of Goong through a mere plot summary, because so much of the story is carried by the characters rather than the events. The night Shin and Chae-Kyung spend together is a fascinating example. When they’re first locked up together, Shin asks, “Are you scared? Do you think I’ll attack you?” Chae-Kyung, however, is more worried that she might attack him! Shin abruptly kills any mood that might’ve been brewing, though, when he says, “A man can sleep with a girl whom he doesn’t really like.” Readers can see that he’s developing feelings for her and just trying to protect himself by feigning detachment, but Chae-Kyung can’t. When he’s later moved by her eyes, which speak so honestly of her feelings for him, and tries to kiss her, she slaps him. Shin, of course, has no idea what he did wrong.

What a complicated and complex relationship! This is the sort of situation that two people, no matter how attracted they are to each other, would probably just give up on after failing time and again to truly connect. Shin and Chae-Kyung don’t have this option, however, and continue the pattern of hurting each other. Their struggle is both captivating and frustrating; it’s going to be so vastly rewarding once they finally work things out.

Shin’s insecurities and ignorance of a loving family come into play in the latter half of the volume, when he refuses to allow Chae-Kyung to visit her ailing grandfather. The excuse he gives is that she has duties to attend to, but he’s really worried that she’ll want to stay with her family rather than return to the miseries of palace life. Yul uses this situation to try to get on Chae-Kyung’s good side—suggesting that she get her marriage with Shin annulled and marry him instead since Shin’s dysfunctional upbringing makes him treat her badly—but only succeeds in strengthening her sympathies for Shin. The final scene suggests that Yul’s meddling might backfire on him even further, to which I say, in Nelson’s voice from The Simpsons, “Ha ha!”

An awful lot goes on in a single volume of Goong and all of it is wonderfully balanced and exciting to read. About the only flaw I could mention is that the unattractive artwork during comedic moments still persists. Because of this, I’ve never been able to award any volume a straight-out A, much as I have wanted to, because the random bits of ugly pull me out of the story. They don’t appear to be going anywhere, alas, so it looks like I’ll just have to resign myself to their presence.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

I reviewed this strange, cute, and sad manga for Comics Should Be Good. It’s the story of a fluffy little alien who comes to earth to find a bride. It’s very weird, but the absurdity is of a sort that appeals to me.

You can find that review here.

Little Fluffy Gigolo PELU is published in English by Last Gasp and the first volume is available now. It looks like the series is complete in Japan with a total of three volumes.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

After 36 dramatastic volumes, Boys Over Flowers has finally come to an end. It’s just too bad it didn’t happen sooner. The end of volume 31 would’ve been a good place, for example, with Tsukushi and Tsukasa finally realizing that their love is what’s most important in their lives. Instead, after Tsukasa recovers from a rather lame bout of amnesia, he announces that, due to his father’s sudden illness, he is taking off for New York after graduation and won’t be back for four years.

Although some very nice moments between the main couple result, like a night spent alone together and some endearingly misspelled skywriting, on the whole this volume is a disappointment on that front. With Tsukasa’s departure looming and Tsukushi forced to deal with her wacky family, they spend too much of this final volume apart for it to truly feel satisfying. Also, while I don’t really mind checking in on some of the secondary characters introduced throughout the series, I begrudge them the pages that could’ve been spent on the protagonists.

On the positive side, the volume provides some unexpectedly touching moments with Tsukushi and the rest of the F4, who are graduating, too. Instead of taking dates to the prom, they’ve decided that the last girl they want to dance with in high school is Tsukushi and we get a little farewell moment with each of them. Also, a bonus story about Akira, the least developed member of the F4, proves to be surprisingly entertaining.

Boys Over Flowers might end with a whimper rather than a bang, but don’t take that to mean that it isn’t ultimately well worth reading.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Review originally published at Manga Recon.

These seven volumes leading up to the conclusion of Boys Over Flowers, which now has the distinction of being the longest shoujo series I’ve read, feature some pretty drastic reversals of fortune. Through spontaneous trips to New York City, love confessions from unexpected sources, kidnappings, deserted islands, stabbings, and amnesia, Tsukushi and Tsukasa endure a whirlwind of on again, off again romance that can leave the reader rather dizzy.

Because it’s better simply to go with the shoujo flow than try to reconstruct a linear account of what happens, I’m going to forgo any attempt at a comprehensive summary and instead write a little bit about each volume individually.

Volume 29: B
Tsukasa is convinced that he can make his mother understand his feelings for Tsukushi. The two of them have a very sweet date, one of their first that’s uniformly happy, with visits to pet stores and attendance at a baseball game. Alas, this game is the scene for a record-breaking home run for an American player, and Tsukushi’s catch of the ball ends up televised in New York, where Tsukasa’s mother happens to see it. She yanks Tsukasa back to New York, and Tsukushi pluckily follows.

After a couple of dumb chapters wherein Tsukushi just happens to run into someone she knows, things pick up again when she finally gets to see Tsukuasa. He coldly tells Tsukushi to go home and that he’s staying in New York of his own volition. She is stunned, but then sweet Rui arrives to lend her his support.

Volume 30: B+
Rui reveals that he is in love with Tsukushi. Although they don’t really work as a couple—the one date they had in the past was pretty awkward—I still see why they’d be drawn together. There’s a certain aura that Rui exudes, a strong, wistful kind of pull, that produces romantic angst of such a wonderful quality that it quite literally makes my heart ache a little. Even better is that this time, Tsukushi’s feelings for Tsukasa don’t waver in the slightest.

On the annoying side of things, Tsukushi just accepts Tsukasa’s cold dismissal and is on the verge of returning to Japan, when Kaede turns up at the airport and gives her one wish (in return for helping save a business deal). Tsukushi wishes for Tsukasa to keep his promise to have a hot pot dinner with her. A few days later, Tsukasa returns to Japan to spend just one day with Tsukushi, and it’s wonderfully sad and they’re about to have a tearful goodbye when suddenly some thugs with tasers arrive and kidnap them.

Volume 31: B
Tsukushi and Tsukasa awake to find themselves on a ship set on auto-pilot. When they arrive at a deserted island, Tsukasa proves himself surprisingly reliable by catching some dinner and, as they explore their surroundings, he reveals why he sent her away in New York and Tsukushi finds the courage to declare that she never wants to be separated from him again. Predictably, it turns out that their friends were behind the kidnapping, but neither Tsukushi nor Tsukasa is mad, since Tsukushi feels the experience has taught her what’s really important to her and Tsukasa decides that he’s going to leave his family.

Alas, Tsukasa’s sudden disappearance has hit the news. There’s a media frenzy upon his return and, in the commotion, he ends up getting stabbed by a guy with a grudge against his family. “Why is it,” Tsukushi wonders, “that every time I’m about to grasp that hand it just slips through my fingers?”

Volume 32: B-
Tsukasa nearly dies from his injuries, but miraculously recovers, though he has amnesia as a result and can’t remember Tsukushi. This ailment is untimely since, in grudging gratitude for Tsukushi’s life-saving actions after Tsukasa’s attack, Kaede says she’ll consider her son dead for one year. Throughout the rest of the volume, Tsukasa continues to be unable to remember Tsukushi while a very annoying, supposedly innocent girl at the hospital begins spending a lot of time with him.

A new romantic rival this late in the game is irritating. It’s strange—previous volumes prove I can accept and be entertained by all kinds of ridiculous drama, but this arc is just incredibly frustrating. I do like that we get a glimpse of a softer side of Kaede, though, and hope that it’ll be followed up on in the future.

Volume 33: B-
The amnesia plot persists and Umi continues to hang around Tsukasa, prompting him to wonder if perhaps she is the person he’s forgotten and taking credit for making a bento lunch that he found nostalgic somehow. Kamio-sensei attempts to portray Umi as naive and oblivious rather than calculating, but it doesn’t really work for me and I still hate her unreservedly. Thankfully, Tsukasa begins to realize that being with her simply doesn’t feel right and eventually scares her away with his temper, still awful when not modulated by Tsukushi’s influence.

Tsukushi, meanwhile, has become convinced that the Tsukasa she loves no longer exists and decides to see him one last time to return the mementos of their relationship. The encounter angers her enough to bean him in the head with the baseball she caught on their date and viola, his memories return. I’m more relieved than anything else, though there are certainly some nice moments after their reunion. The volume ends with them heading out to enjoy the freedom granted by their one-year grace period, promising to think about what to do after that when the time comes.

Volume 34: B+
Now that Tsukushi and Tsukasa are back on the right path—though Tsukushi can’t quite believe that it’s not going to all fall apart again, given their track record—focus shifts back to the subplot involving Yuki and her feelings for Sojiro. After helping him to attain a bit of closure regarding the one girl he ever really loved, she’s been keeping her distance. When they reconnect at a dinner to celebrate Tsukasa’s recovery, he offers to do something for her to repay her actions, and she asks him to instruct at her school’s Tea Club, unaware that the Sara in the club is the very girl that Sojiro once loved.

Angst ensues, but it’s enjoyable. Yuki is a strong and likable character (whose increasingly mature outlook has been an inspiration for our heroine), Sojiro has some unexpected layers, and it’s nice to give the main couple a break sometimes and let others bear the brunt of the drama burden for a while.

Volume 35: B
The Yuki/Sojiro storyline plays out to its conclusion and it’s awesome. Less awesome, alas, are the developments with our main couple. They couldn’t possibly be allowed to enjoy the year of freedom they’ve been granted! Instead, Tsukasa’s father collapses and he decides to go off to New York after graduation and take the reins of the company, leaving he and Tsukushi only a few more days together.

Firstly, this is entirely out of the blue and runs contrary to what Tsukasa was just saying a few volumes ago, about how he’s going to leave the family and all that. Secondly, as his departure approaches, the story turns into a tour of memories, with random reappearances by side characters that I don’t really care about.

All in all, of these volumes, I loved the scenes between Tsukushi and Rui the most, followed by the resolution to the Yuki and Sojiro story. There are some really great moments with the main couple in there, but the amnesia plot and this latest announcement of Tsukasa’s kind of bum me out in that department. Instead of being excited at the prospect of what the final volume will bring, I’m now kind of wary.

From the back cover:
Denver homicide detective Cliff Janeway may not always play by the book, but he’s an avid collector of rare and first editions. After a local bookscout is killed on his turf, Janeway would like nothing better than to rearrange the suspect’s spine. But the suspect, sleazeball Jackie Newton, is a master at eluding murder convictions. Unfortunately for Janeway, his swift form of off-duty justice costs him his badge.

Review:
Denver Detective Cliff Janeway has a grudge against one particular thug named Jackie Newton. Newton has managed to elude prosecution for the various crimes that Janeway is sure he has committed and Janeway has developed an obsession with pinning something on him, so much so that when a bookscout is found dead with a method of death similar to other crimes attributed to Jackie, Janeway immediately leaps to the conclusion that Jackie must be responsible and spends the first half of the book almost exclusively pursuing Jackie Newton rather than considering any other leads. He flagrantly breaks established rules of policework time and again and eventually loses his badge over it.

And we are supposed to like this guy?! I can’t shake the idea that author John Dunning worried that readers might find a sleuth who collects books to be too wimpy, so he took steps to make sure he’s seen as a macho tough guy. All of the posturing to that end gets exceedingly boring, and there was one section, featuring an unsympathetic doormat who’s essentially determined to do nothing to stop Jackie’s abuse and harrassment, during which I realized I hated every single character in the book, with the possible exception of Janeway’s long-suffering partner.

Thankfully, once Janeway gives up being a cop and opens an antiquarian bookstore instead, things improve a great deal. His contact with Jackie is reduced—aside from the lawsuit Jackie files after Janeway hauls him off into the middle of nowhere and beats the crap out of him—and there’s a good deal of interesting detail about setting up his shop and hunting for treasures. After a three month interval, however, Janeway begins to get embroiled in the now-cold case of the bookscout’s murder and once again uses whatever methods he damn well pleases to get to the bottom of it.

While the second half of the book is definitely better than the first, I can’t say that I really am much impressed with the mystery itself. It involves too many indistinct characters for one thing, and for another is just plain boring and predictable. Janeway continues to make a lot of assumptions about things, and seemingly has no compunction with carting away boxes of evidence (rare and valuable books) rather than leave it for police to find. I have to wonder whether anything he uncovered would ever be admissable in court. During the investigation, he also strikes up a relationship with a lady (I fight the compulsion to call her a dame, in the tradition of hard-boiled mysteries of yore) and, in Dunning’s attempt to depict how gritty and visceral their attraction is, keeps his gun in his hand throughout their first moment of intimacy. The lady is apparently fine with this, since she has a thing for violent dudes.

Ultimately, Booked to Die is a big disappointment. The idea of a mystery series with a bookseller as amateur sleuth has definite appeal, but there are so many things I dislike about the actual execution that I don’t think even the lure of booky goodness could entice me to continue with the series.

Additional reviews of Booked to Die can be found at Triple Take.

The advent of free and legal streaming anime is upon us! Even though I no longer consider myself much of an anime fan—outside of a few nostalgic favorites—it’s hard to resist the lure of a free (and legal!) opportunity to see how some of my favorite manga series have been adapted for the small screen.

To that end, I visited three websites offering streaming anime and checked out the first episodes of Ghost Hunt, Skip Beat!, and Honey and Clover, all series I have enjoyed in their manga form. Here are the results!

Ghost Hunt — Ep. 1 “Evil Spirits All Over!?, Part 1″
How I watched it: subtitled
Where I watched it: FUNimation Videos

When high school student Mai Taniyama breaks an expensive camera belonging to Shibuya Psychic Research and injures the boss’s assistant, she is drafted into becoming a substitute and enters into the world of ghost hunting. Rumors of strange accidents abound about an old, abandoned building on school grounds and the principal has hired several notable mediums, exorcists, and researchers to get to the bottom of what’s going on. This first episode introduces the characters who’ll be working together for the rest of the series, but doesn’t get much beyond that to the meat of the case in question.

The first thing to strike me was the quality of the animation. One of the big flaws about Ghost Hunt as a manga (itself an adaptation from a series of novels) was that Mai’s character design was liable to change dramatically from volume to volume. The anime has chosen a style closest to her latest manga incarnation, and it looks quite attractive. Additionally, another character who was always supposed to be pretty finally merits that description.

The case itself doesn’t play as creepily as it did in the manga, though there are definitely some attempts to promote a spooky vibe, like the fabulous orchestral opening theme. It’s too bad the closing theme is so plain by comparison.

Overall, I was pretty pleased with this adaptation. As near as I can remember, it follows the manga faithfully and even improves upon it in some ways. I’m not sure it excites me enough to keep on with the rest of it, though.

Skip Beat! — Ep. 1 “And the Box was Opened”
How I watched it: subtitled
Where I watched it: Crunchyroll

Kyoko Mogami has come to Tokyo to lend support to her childhood friend Sho in his bid for stardom. And by lend support I mean slave away night and day to pay for his expenses, do his laundry, cook his meals, et cetera. She thinks they’re special to each other, but when she overhears him telling his manager what he really thinks of her, she loses it and vows to get her revenge.

This seems like a pretty accurate adaptation of the beginning of the manga. Some of the comedy bits are a bit too loud and zany for me, but I can’t complain much because those elements are in the manga, too. Kyoko’s transition from accommodating to vengeful is well done—it looks a bit like a magical girl transformation sequence—and I actually rather like her voice so far, even though I’d heard from others that she can come off a bit shrill.

I don’t really like Sho’s voice, though, and find the music boring and the animation sloppy at times. Still, this is the one series of the lot that tempted me to proceed directly on to episode two. The prospect of seeing Kyoko’s auditions and acting jobs animated sounds pretty appealing and I simply must see Lory.

Honey and Clover — Ep. 1 “I Saw Someone Fall in Love for the First Time”
How I watched it: subtitled
Where I watched it: Hulu

Honey and Clover is the story of a bunch of students attending an art college. In the first episode, sophomore architectural student Takemoto meets freshman Hagumi (hereafter referred to as Hagu), the daughter of his professor’s cousin, who has come to the school to study. She is tiny, dainty, and shy and Takemoto is instantly smitten. Meanwhile, we’re also introduced to some other students whose romantic woes will play a bigger part in the story later on.

Rather than adapt manga to anime in a straightforward way, the creators of the Honey and Clover anime have done something a bit different with the material, seeking to reinterpret it with Takemoto’s solitary bicycle journey (which doesn’t happen until volume five or six of the manga) as a framing device for the early events of the series. It’s an interesting and thoughtful choice. Unfortunately, their changes also extend to the insertion of unnecessary scenes, like one in which Hagu (quite literally) runs into Yamada.

Ultimately, despite its innovations, the anime of Honey and Clover is the one I like least of the three, and that is likely because the manga is the one I like best. The difference in tone is too great from what I have imagined for me to really enjoy it.

Also, I must add that this series probably has the strangest opening credits I’ve ever seen. You’ll never look at a shrimp cocktail the same way again.

I reviewed four summer releases from VIZ’s Shonen Jump imprint for a post over at Comics Should Be Good.

On the agenda are:
Tegami Bachi: Letter Bee 1 by Hiroyuki Asada: B-
It’s very pretty and atmospheric, but some aspects of the story are rather cheesy. I will probably still check out volume two, though.

Gin Tama 13 by Hideaki Sorachi: D
I know some find this series amusing, but it would seem I’m not among them. Like… really really not among them.

Wāqwāq 1 by Ryu Fujisaki: C+
The plot’s convoluted and the art is muddled but I’ll be damned if I didn’t still kind of like it.

Naruto 45 by Masashi Kishimoto: C
Most of this didn’t make sense to me and what did make sense was very silly. Also, Sasuke is a total angstmuffin.

All in all, it was a fun experiment but I’ve kind of had my fill of shounen for the time being.

Review copies provided by the publisher.