Recommendation: Maison Ikkoku

I should be flying back to Sydney as we speak, so let me take this opportunity to recommend some vintage manga this week, namely Maison Ikkoku, by the best-selling female manga artist in the world, Rumiko Takahashi.

Now, I would recommend all of Rumiko Takahashi’s work, since her work is almost an institution in Japan, but I settled on Maison Ikkoku simply because it’s the most balanced of all her long-running series (and there are quite a few of them). It’s also one of her older works, with a different tone to her latest ones, which seems geared to a younger audience.

 

CoverMaison Ikkoku (Rumiko Takahashi) 15 Volumes

Maison Ikkoku was one of the first manga translated into English by Viz, and Rumiko Takahashi’s work remains one of the first manga to be exposed to Western audiences. Her work gained a huge following in the states (and in other countries) years before TOKYOPOP ever came to be. Apart from Doraemon, her Urusei Yatsura was among one of the first manga I’ve ever read. Her career spans over 40 years, and she has sold millions and millions of books worldwide. She is, hands down, the most prolific and best-selling female manga artist ever to have lived.

 

Plot
Maison Ikkoku is the name of a run-down, cheap boarding house, where the residents are either broke or crazy. The building is divided into a number of rooms (with no private bathrooms), and in room number 5 lives Yusaku Godai, a ronin, described in Japan as a college applicant who has yet to successfully pass the entrance exams. Godai is a nice guy (if a bit of a loser), and constantly tormented by his crazy neighbours, who thinks the sole purpose of his existence is for them to hold loud, drunk parties in his room.

 


 

Godai’s had enough. He was about to move out of the building, when a new manager moves in – an extremely beautiful young woman named Kyoko Otonashii. Since Kyoko will be living at the boarding house as its manager, Godai decides to stay – having fallen in lust at first sight with Kyoko. Kyoko herself is a gentle, caring woman with a quick temper, and the residents quickly discover that she’s actually a widow, who had married her high school teacher as a student. Kyoko is still deeply in love with her late husband, and as Godai gets to know her better, he falls in love with her. However, the road to love isn’t so easy for these two – Godai barely scrapes into unversity, and Kyoko has other suitors. Misunderstandings and the hijinks of the neighbours also make any kind of intimacy difficult. Will Godai succeed in winning Kyoko’s heart?

 


 

Why I Recommend this Story
Ofcourse Godai marries Kyoko at the end. You don’t write a 15-volume dramedy asking the readers to sympathise with the underdog hero, and then snatch the prize away in the last volume. People would be so angry. Having rooted for Godai and Kyoko for literally years of their lives, watching as Godai gets into college, almost flunks out of college, eventually graduates, attempts to find a job, fails due to bad luck, tries again, and eventually succeeds… wow, the world sure doesn’t make it easy for Godai. Unlike other manga heroes, who seem to naturally fall into leadership roles, possesses special powers, or at least has an an interesting personality or quest to go on, Godai is remarkably ordinary and average. Heck, I would say he’s below average. He struck it lucky with Kyoko.

 

 

Which is the whole point of Maison Ikkoku, a funny, poignant story about how the underdog finally wins the day. Finally. Compared to Takahashi’s other more well-known series, like Urusei Yatsura or Ranma 1/2 or even Inuyasha, the trials and tribulations of Godai seems utterly benign. While the story has its fair share of entertaining weirdos, it doesn’t have half the bombast or physical comedy of her other works – and Takahashi is mostly known for her loud, in-your-face, laff-a-minute comedy. No, this story is more rooted in reality than many of her other series, and that’s what makes it stand out. Godai eats cheap food, lives in a crappy place with crappy neighbours, constantly has money worries, ends up working in some dodgy places to make money, and constantly has to fight for almost everything he has. No need for aliens, gender-bending martial artists or monsters to spice things up. Life itself is a struggle enough, and it’s good to see a funny manga that is so rooted in a small moments of day to day life.

The romance between Godai and Kyoko is one that sticks in my mind – they’re both complex and emotional people with a lot of baggage. Kyoko feels she’s betraying her dead husband, and Godai feels he’ll never be good enough for Kyoko; often comparing himself to her late husband and her other suitors. These two drag themselves, kicking and screaming, to the inevitable final conclusion. When all is said and done, it’s a relief to see them finally acknowledge their feelings to each other. They get a lot of help (and hindrance) from Godai’s wacky neighbours, an assortment of working-class types, all of whom have sharply drawn personalities, and are always entertaining. Especially Yotsuya, the guy in room 4, who may or may not have a job, and whose life involves slithering like a snake into Godai’s room to steal food. Some of their antics have to be seen to be believed.

 

 

A Takahashi manga is always worth a read, because she’s a powerful story-teller who never fails to make you sympathise with her characters, and capable of finding comedy in the most mundane situations. Maison Ikkoku is a good place to start, as an introduction to her work (most of which is a lot whackier than this story). She excels in ensemble casts, taking extra care in the way they interact with each other, and despite the large numbers of secondary and tertiary characters, always manages to make them interesting and relevant. Her long-running series has a tendency to drag in the middle, and Maison Ikkoku is no exception, but the story ends the way it should end, and loose ends are neatly tied off. Her work is often light-hearted, with great comic timing, a fair amount of Japanese cultural references, and is always memorable.

Takahashi was one of the manga artists I tried to imitate when I was younger, and eventually gave up at, because I realised her voice was unique and inimitable. Even though I don’t follow her current work much, like some other manga artists I’ve recommended on my site, she’s a master worth learning from.

Creamy Green Tea Roll

I should be in New York by now, attending NYCC. I’ll be hanging by the BentoComics table mostly! I’ll be back in Sydney at the end of October!

 

Green Tea Roll

Step 1: The second last of these Japanese kits I bought, this green tea roll cake appear to have an extra slopping of cream on top. Why not?

 

Green Tea Roll 2

Step 2: Hurray for pre-cut felt! This kit especially, because of the "cream" bits that are long and straight.

 

Green Tea Roll 3

Step 3: Sew the roll cake together. Thank god for the pre-cut pieces - cutting spirals are always a horrible chore.

 

Green Tea Roll 4

Step 4: Finished with the roll cake. Start with the little bits and pieces that go on top of the roll cake.

 

Green Tea Roll 5

Step 5: Glue the cream bits on, and what a mess I made of the glue (again). It's not glued on very well, so a few of the cream bits can fall off. Am hoping that by sewing the top bits on, it'll help keep the cream bits on the roll cake.

 

Quite small, but ends up looking pretty cute:

 

Creamy Green Tea Roll

Recommendation: Mushishi

Edit: Rest in Peace, Steve Jobs…

I’m heading off to New York Comic-Con this weekend, mostly for touristy reasons (since I’ve never been to NYCC before). As of now I haven’t packed much yet, so I’m panicking while trying to get things done at the last minute. At NYCC, I plan to just mostly hang around the BentoComics table, as well as try and cram some sight-seeing into the 10 days I’ll be in America.

After the last recommendation of Mononoke, it’s inevitable that I will continue my journey into the weird-Japanese-supernatural genre. So this week, I recommend the manga and anime series Mushishi.

 

Mushishi CoverMushishi (Yuki Urushibara)
10 volumes, plus a 26-episode TV series

Mushishi is available in English from Del Rey, where I first heard of the series. I admit that I didn’t know what it was about when I first read it, and it took me two tries before I was able to get into it. Part of it is because it’s a series that has a pseudo-scientific fantasy universe, that is quite unlike anything I’ve encountered before. This series is strange and complex in a way that is difficult to describe.

 

Plot
In the world of Mushishi, there are creatures known as mushi that are ubiquitous, but just another life form like humans, animals and plants. These mushi can have supernatural powers, and when they become “off-balance” they can infect humans or geographical areas, and cause a lot of problems. Mushi are described as being closer to the essence of life, and more basic and pure than other living life forms. Most people are oblivious to their existence, while a select few can see and interact with them.

 

 

The story follows Gingko, who is one such person. He is known as a Mushi-shi – people who travel from place to place, dealing with problems that mushi can cause. Because mushi are just another life form who sometimes have symbiotic relationships with humans, they’re not evil, and aren’t trying to be. The series is episodic, with no over-arching plot, and follows Gingko from place to place as he encounters different kinds of mushi, and subscribes different methods of dealing with them.

 


 

Why I Recommend this Story
When people talk about unusual takes on the Japanese supernatural, they may mention the psychedelic anime series Mononoke (which I recommended 2 weeks ago). In the next breath, they would then say that Mononoke is like Mushishi. Ask them to explain that further, and they will be at a loss for words. Heck, I can’t explain how Mushishi is in any way like Mononoke. Both stories are unique and original in the way they imagine their universes, and perhaps the best way to describe them is that in the Forest of Genres, they’re relatives in a obscure, distant branch of the “Japanese Supernatural” Family Tree.

At least Mononoke is about an exorcist who exorcises monsters. I’m not sure what to call Gingko in Mushishi – he’s definitely not an exorcist, though some parts of his job may qualify as exorcism. There are no monsters in the traditional sense in Mushishi, though there are these creatures called mushi that are the cause of a lot of strange problems. Gingko goes from place to place, helping people who may be having problems with the mushi (sometimes they’re not), and then perhaps solving their problems (though sometimes he doesn’t). Since “mushi” is the Japanese word for “insects”, perhaps I can call him a cross between a pest-control agent and a biologist with a special streak of curiosity for the insect kingdom.

 

 

As a Mushi-shi, Gingko certainly seems more curious than most towards the mushi. While this is never addressed directly, other Mushi-shi seems to treat their jobs just as pest-exterminators, and that’s it. Gingko at least seems to take a scientific interest in the mushi, though considering the way he sometimes wanders into situations that didn’t ask him to become involved, he may just be a person who takes an interest in everything he encounters. I’m not sure. This series don’t make things clear-cut in the way some people expect their stories to be clear-cut. Situations are given, things happen, decisions both good and bad are made by the people in the story, and readers are left to ponder the results. Also, because humans need to co-exist with mushi irregardless, those looking for bombastic action scenes aren’t going to find any. There’s no good and evil in this story. There are just people, and mushi that act up for a variety of reasons.

No over-arching plot, and no special objectives to for Gingko to achieve either. And very few recurring characters except for Gingko and one or two of his friends. The art, while lush and beautiful in depicting nature, backgrounds and “the weird”, seems to be pretty forgettable when it comes to people. Urushibara doesn’t seem to be good at character designs – a lot of the characters have faces so similar it can be hard to tell who is who sometimes. So does this make the series boring? Some people complain that it’s boring after a while. Those expecting a pay-off, or a climatic boss-fight scene won’t get anything close to that. So why read this series?

 

 

One word: Originality. You won’t find anything else like Mushishi out there. This is a fully-formed universe, with its own eco-system, its own classifications of different mushi, and its own unusual methods of “curing” the “illnesses”. Heck, in one story, a character’s problem is solved just by moving to a coastal area – the mushi affecting her are dissolved by sea air, so all she has to do is to live by the sea. The stories often play out in the way a medical or scientific thriller would, except there’s no actual science involved. There is instead a humanistic approach to the characters and their issues in the stories, and it often deals with universal themes such as love, loss, the capacity people have to fool themselves, and the value of life. Perhaps a better comparison is not Mononoke, but Osamu Tezuka’s manga Black Jack; about a maverick surgeon who doesn’t so much heal patients, as helping patients heal themselves.

I’m not sure I did a good job in selling Mushishi, but then this story isn’t for the average person. Its strongest appeal is in its lack of predictability, and its sense of discovery – what mushi will we encounter next? What strange symptoms does it cause in people? What unusual methods will be used to get rid of them? To some people, it’s the most interesting thing in the world. To other people, they don’t see the point of it. If you want to have a crack at Mushishi, have a think about which camp you fall into. It will certainly affect your enjoyment of the series.

* I should mention that a lot of the stories in Mushishi are alternate re-tellings of Japanese myths and monsters. If you have prior knowledge of this, it will be more interesting and enjoyable than if you don’t.

Three Russian Dolls

Russian Dolls

Step 1: For once, this isn't Japanese. It seems to be from a British company, and it even comes with a nice tin box. For the inexplicably cheap price of $14 at Townhall's Kinokuniya. I snapped it up, ofcourse.

 

Russian Dolls 2

Step 2: Open the contents, and just enough material is there to make three of the dolls. The design of the dolls is quite simple too.

 

Russian Dolls 3

Step 3: Cut out all the materials, and mix and match the hoods with the colourful bottom parts. I decided on this combination.

 

Russian Dolls 4

Step 4: Sew the faces on, and the top and bottom halves together. It's time to sew both of the front and back parts to make the doll.

 

Russian Dolls 5

Step 5: Stuff the dolls with stuffing, and then sew the wavy elastic band around them for a finishing touch. I added a few more things to it than was given in the kit.

 

I decided to gift the dolls to three couples I know, so I embroidered some names on them. Good use of cute dollies! Yay to Claire and Pedro, Ben and Nam, and Kath and Paul:

 

Russian Dolls