Dream Fossil (2015)

Author: Satoshi Kon  |  Illustrator: Satoshi Kon  |  Page Count: 426

"Ten years from now, you'll look good holding manilla envelopes."

Fifteen short mangas by Satoshi Kon arranged mostly chronologically from the years 1984-89. Having them presented that way enables a reader to chart the evolution and clarity of vision that bordered the path to peculiarity he walked, a path that led the author into the role of revered anime director.*

Of the fifteen, only about one third of them are what I'd call memorable. Furthermore, with the exception of an opening story that could make a really interesting short film, the better stories don't come until halfway into the book.

Fans of Kon's films will recognise seeds of ideas that he'd develop further and more successfully later in his career. My favourite story, Joyful Bell (1989), reminds me very much of his Tokyo Godfathers (2003) anime, ironically my least favourite of his films and the only one I'm not sad isn't available on blu-ray.

Also notable are the stories Kidnappers (1987), Guests (1987), and Beyond the Sun (1988). The latter is the one where I most felt the music of Susumu Hirasawa as an influence. Coincidently, the book includes a short interview with the musician. Far from being filler, it offers an insightful glimpse into the simpatico the two men shared as it refers to their frequent, creative collaborations.

It’s published by Vertical, who also handled Kon’s Tropic of the Sea (2013) manga. You’d think they’d have had the good sense to make it the same size so that the two can be comfortably shelved next to each other. But no; Dream Fossil is bigger. They did the same with their Makoto Shinkai books. That pisses me off.

The increase in size wasn't accompanied by an increase in paper quality. Looking at Fossil and Tropic side by side I'm half-convinced that it's even lower grade than before. I'm extremely grateful and supportive of Vertical taking a chance on this type of thing, sincerely, but please don't skimp on the presentation. Strive to be the best you can be and I'll happily give you my money time and again.

2½ weathered serials out of 5

*You can find short reviews of Satoshi Kon's films on our sister site, In a Nutshell.

The Garden of Words (2014)

Author: Makoto Shinkai  |  Illustrator: Midori Motohashi  |  Page Count: 194

"It's not like we had a promise or anything.  But still..."

Every one of Shinkai’s anime works to date is an emotional tour de force that connects to something malleable inside of me.  Each part is carefully orchestrated to elicit that kind of response in a mass audience, but he somehow makes it feel deeply personal.  In the case of TGoW, when presented as a manga it loses not just the fluidity and the precise, measured silences, but something more significant, something soul-stirring that’s almost indefinable.  It’s still an enjoyable read but to really appreciate the subtleties throughout I’d recommend viewing the anime too, before or after, depending on your preference.

It's the story of Takao, a Kyushu high school student with a dream and the drive to realise it.  On rainy mornings he shelters in a wooden gazebo, and works on his skills.  It’s there that he has a chance encounter with an individual who changes his life forever.  (It makes me wonder what lengths the universe goes to to make the simplicity of a ‘chance’ encounter happen.)  Over time their self-confidence grows and they begin to flourish like flowers after a sun-shower.

There’s a Tanka poem deeply embedded in the narrative.  If you can spare the time, some research into the form and history of the style will enrich the work.

There's a danger I'll unwittingly turn this review into a series of wispy musings on self-indulgent concerns, so I'll end it after saying one thing more: with regards the Tanka device, I believe there’s a poem for everyone but not everyone has found theirs yet, or is brave enough to attempt to write it themselves.

3 cautious steps out of 5

Note: You can find spoiler-free, mini-reviews of some of Makoto Shinkai’s films, including The Garden of Words, at our sister site, In a Nutshell.

A Guru Is Born (2012)

Author:  Takeshi Kitano  |  Translator:  Dawn T. Laabs  |  Page Count: 189

“It’s easier said than done. It takes real strength to live freely, and if you’re still working at it, then you’re not really free.”

Beneath a cover that appears to promise some kind of awful beach novel is a story about religion and its usefulness, or lack of.  The deeper aspects of Japanese religion would be lost on most Westerners but the novel isn't really about that, although being able to use it as a contrast would certainly be useful.  It focuses on one of the many religious sects that pop up across the country like weeds in a neglected but fertile field.  The ones that mix old and new, creating something not quite as unique as they like to pretend they are.  Kitano is both a traditionalist and a rule breaker, so that particular mix is perfect fodder for him to explore.

At a gathering of one such group is Kazuo Takayama, a young guy hunting for a cause to believe in.  He dares to believe that the lack of satisfaction he feels about life will ease if he's able to devote his efforts to something altogether larger than himself.  He's awed by the figurehead of the group, the silent Guru, a miracle-worker of great importance.  In Kazuo’s inexperienced mind the serendipitous nature of such a meeting can’t be mere coincidence.

Even in translation the language is whittled down to just the essentials without losing the beauty of allusion.  Within the larger whole are numerous tiny passages that can only be described as the product of a haiku culture.  They aren't structured as haikus but they work upon the reader in a similar way.

Unlike the majority of the Western world, Japanese stories don’t require an easy resolution.  It’s something I've gotten used to in film, they’re usually only 90 – 120 minutes of my life, but in literature, where much more time is invested, usually over a number of days, it’s still a bit of a shock when it happens.

2½ end results out of 5

Note: Guru was originally published in Japan in 1990.  It was adapted into a film by Toshihiro Tenma, titled Kyôso tanjô (1993); known as Many Happy Returns in English, although at time of writing it seems to be unavailable for purchase.

Boy (2007)

Author: Takeshi Kitano | Translator: David James Karashima | Page Count: 185

‘He probably couldn't run fast enough and had been caught.  I suddenly became really worried.  I was completely alone.’

Takeshi Kitano is best known as a filmmaker, but in Japan he’s also a famous comedian, writer, critic and painter among other things.  It seems as if he’ll turn his hand to whatever best enables him to communicate with an audience.
Boy was the first time any of his fiction was translated into English.  It was published in Japan many years ago as Shonen (1987), so it wasn't a new work.

Two of the three stories are told first person and revolve around something I know a lot about: having a brother.  My own brother was a huge inspiration and defining presence in my life as a child.  I’d not change a thing about our time together, even the bad times, because they helped me become who I am.  That same connection is part of the glue that binds the first two stories together.

All three utilise a specific aspect of adolescence as a foundation.  There’s a school sports day that’s memorable for more than just the runners.  There’s a shared, inherited interest that gives two brothers a deeper understanding of each one’s nature.  And finally, there’s a tale that explores the tentative first steps of a youth experiencing the duality of love for the first time.

The language used is simplistic and beautiful; there’s nothing wasted.  The urge to fill the narrative with more complex allusions must have been difficult to quell.
However, that same simplicity may disappoint readers hoping for something closer to his violent film work.  If I had to compare it to one of his films it’d be Kikujiro (1999) but even that is far off the mark.

What the two mediums do have in common is an understanding of the value of expression.  Kitano is a ‘show-don't-tell’ kind of filmmaker and he uses that same principle in his writing.  Little gestures filled with deeper meaning are littered throughout and may go unnoticed if you don’t pay careful attention.

2½ bars of magic chocolate out of 5

Note: You can find spoiler-free, mini-reviews of some of Takeshi Kitano’s films at our sister site, In a Nutshell.

5 Centimeters per Second (2012)

Author: Makoto Shinkai | Artist: Yukiko Seike | Page Count: 566

'I bet you must have changed a lot too.  And bit by bit, you’ll keep on changing.'

The manga adaptation of Makoto Shinkai’s anime of the same name is the story of Takaki Tohno and his love for Akari Shinohara.  The book is faithful to the themes and characters of the source, and in its own way is equally as heartbreaking, but there are also a number of differences.  There’s more dialogue between the couple and a lot of new scenes have been added.  Most of the additions don’t lead anywhere new but each in some way expands or accentuates both the closeness and the distance between the two individuals.

It’s split into three parts, each focussing on a specific period of Tohno’s life.  The first and third eras are the most successful and satisfying.  The middle section was the weakest in the anime.  It was necessary to the story but it felt unfinished.  It gets a lengthy epilogue at the book's end that attempts to redress that but overall it remains the weakest aspect.

I love how Shinkai can elicit opposing feelings simultaneously.  There’s a scene that functions as a rekindling after a period of separation that also highlights differences and connotes the inevitable.  That kind of subtlety is the foundation of the work and unless you pick up on it early on, you may get bored or even depressed with the inaction.  Ultimately, its effectiveness will vary drastically from reader to reader; the idealistic young dreamer will interpret it differently than the hopeless romantic or the aged and injured recluse.  The title is all important to the way that love can be perceived; it’ll make sense in context.

At its most basic level, the book is summed up on two pages, but those pages don’t come at the end because realisation is never an end; it’s another beginning.

3 dividing lines out of 5

Note: You can find spoiler-free, mini-reviews of some of Makoto Shinkai’s films, including 5 Centimeters per Second, at our sister site, In a Nutshell.

Tropic of the Sea (2013)

Author: Satoshi Kon |  Illustrator: Satoshi Kon | Page Count: 236

"I don't get what just happened but I think it's your fault."

Satoshi Kon was a filmmaker.  What’s less well known in the West is that he also created manga that, in the case of Tropic of the Sea, wasn't readily available outside of Japan until now.  It was created for a weekly magazine in 1990.  This is the first time it’s been translated into English, but don’t get too excited because it’s nowhere near as good as his film work and the translation is even worse.  It was Kon’s first ever attempt at a serialised manga, and he wasn't at all pleased with the result.  He was under pressure to provide each episode on time, meaning the work was rushed; a state of affairs that’s evident during reading.

It’s a nature Vs industry morality tale with a little bit of the magical world thrown in; the kind of thing that Miyazaki does a million times better.  There’s almost nothing in the narrative to suggest that Kon would go on to become an auteur of such high calibre in the anime world.  The characterisation is slight, the pacing is languid and the depth rarely delves below surface deep, which is something that can be said to apply to the main protagonist, Yosuke, too.

It's Yosuke's job to protect a 60 year old Mermaid egg, just like it was his father's job before him, and his grandfather's before then.  Until now there's been very little to protect it from, but tourism is growing and small town traditions are meaningless to a property developer with a thirst for Yen.

Alongside some words from Kon, many of the covers from the original serialization are included at the end of the book.  I'm pleased about that but feel they would've been better placed as they were originally intended because their removal means there's no longer any indication when the story was structured to pause, which causes it to feel repeatedly broken.

2 buckets out of 5