Flipped!: David Welsh Presents His Current Favorite Manga Series
By David P. Welsh
After several doomed attempts to write an introductory column for this site, I've come to the conclusion that I'm simply not very good at providing an overview of my critical philosophy of manga. Setting something like that in cyber-stone triggers internal alarms, because philosophies evolve, and it could come back to bite me. (Okay, that's a critical philosophy I can articulate -- try not to flagrantly contradict myself any more often than I can help.)
I could relate my thrilling trajectory as a comics consumer... how stories set in Riverdale left me with a completely inflated sense of the centrality of the malt shop in teen life... how I believed for some time that the comics medium could offer no greater spectacle than Valkyrie quelling a riot in a women's prison in an old issue of The Defenders... how I realized somewhat belatedly that habits are unhealthy and hobbies should be fun and took steps to expand my comic-reading horizons. But you've heard that trajectory described a million times, and my version is probably even more boring than the average.
Still, some kind of opening salvo is in order. And since anecdotal evidence is the bread and butter of comics punditry, that's the approach I'll embrace. In lieu of actual insight into how my comics-reading mind works, I'll present a list of some of my favorite manga series currently in release. Make of it what you will.
Manga from the "for girls" category, shôjo, are often dismissed as trivial, escapist fluff, so edgier titles like Setona Mizushiro's After School Nightmare have a special place in my heart. Intersex teen Mashiro has grown up as a boy but is forced into a wholesale reevaluation of his identity when he's placed into a special extracurricular program. In it, students on the emotional edge enter a nightmare landscape where they must compete for the key to an ambiguous "graduation." (Is it self-acceptance or something less benevolent?) In the waking world, Mashiro finds himself torn between hyper-masculine Sou and pretty, fragile Kureha, both of whom sense the otherness of Mashiro and respond to it for their own reasons. The series runs on adolescent ambivalence and paranoia, and Mizushiro doesn’t flinch away from uncomfortable moments.
When a comic becomes a franchise, with animated series, movies, video games, novels and art books springing from its unwrinkled brow, it's reasonable to be suspicious. It's trite to note that popularity and quality don't always go hand in hand, though they skip along in unison in the case of Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist. Arakawa has basically created an excellent super-hero story using a quest structure and fantasy landscape. The Elric brothers mutilated themselves in a misguided attempt to bring their mother back to life. Now they're trying to undo the damage, searching for answers as they use their alchemical abilities in service of a decidedly dodgy military. In addition to the appealing leads, there's a fairly sprawling cast of allies, enemies and undecided parties. A host of subplots make for a faster-than-average pace, though Arakawa doesn't sacrifice character or thematic development in the process.
Masashi Tanaka's Gon is in its second U.S. printing, offering wordless tales of a tiny, angry dinosaur stomping his way through the wild kingdom. The stories are beautifully drawn and simply conceived, usually built around Gon's desire to be left alone to eat and/or sleep and the efficient delivery of Jurassic justice when another creature is fool enough to disturb him. They're Road Runner cartoons without the anthropomorphism, starring a predator instead of prey, antic and charged with adrenaline.
For my money, "scary" and "funny" are two great tastes that taste great together. The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, written by Eiji Otsuka and drawn by Housui Yamazaki, leans more on the funny side of the equation, though Yamazaki has a flair for unsettling visuals. The series follows the entrepreneurial adventures of a group of Buddhist university students. Realizing that their education has left them virtually unemployable, they set out to help misplaced bodies find their final resting places so their spirits can find peace (and improve karma in the form of monetary compensation). Otsuka constructs appealingly varied stories from this durable premise, including a book-long mystery in the second volume that I highly recommend, even if you have no plans to commit to the series in the long run.
There's no shortage of comics featuring gifted humans trying to keep rival species at bay, usually through the liberal application of lethal force. Yuki Urushibara's Mushishi depicts a much more delicate interrelationship between humans and bizarre species of mystical insects called "mushi." Urushibara portrays the sometimes contentious, sometimes benevolent coexistence of man and nature through a series of varied episodes, using a cynical mushi-wrangler named Ginko as her traveling companion. Equal parts wandering shaman and Columbo-esque gumshoe, Ginko's methods are eclectic, his knowledge is encyclopedic, and his bedside manner is wanting. His surly but competent presence grounds the ecological metaphors that are otherwise Urushibara's bread and butter. As an added bonus, Mushishi is wonderfully easy on the eye, and Urushibara's renderings of both the lushness and menace of nature are immersive.
If your comics reading list doesn't include any sexy pulp, may I humbly suggest that you're cheating yourself? The plot of Kazuya Minekura's Wild Adapter is fairly asinine (something about a street drug that makes users devolve), but this series positively radiates charisma. A possibly sociopathic teen yakuza (now retired) takes in an amnesiac runaway who has run afoul of the title narcotic at some point. I can't pretend to be riveted by their hunt for the drug's origins, but Minekura's visuals are so absorbingly stylish and her sense of humor so audaciously perverse that little things like logic don't matter. Attractive, morally ambiguous boys fight crime and may kiss at some point. While this description fits any number of series, few of them offer this much trashy verve.
Yotsuba&!, written and drawn by Kiyohiko Azuma, is simply one of the most exuberant comics I've ever read. As in Gon, an oddball outsider navigates a new environment. In this case, it's a pre-school-aged girl exploring the wonders of suburbia with her single father. Yotsuba is a blank slate, viewing everyday phenomenon like air conditioners and swimming lessons with enthusiasm or anxiety, wonder or skepticism. Her wide-eyed perspective provides the perfect catalyst for low-key comedy that never lapses into conventional sit-com rhythms. Whenever I'm in a foul mood, I dig out a volume of this series. I don't know if the Food and Drug Administration would be interested in evaluating its potential as an anti-depressant, but that's how it works for me.
Manga from the "for girls" category, shôjo, are often dismissed as trivial, escapist fluff, so edgier titles like Setona Mizushiro's After School Nightmare have a special place in my heart. Intersex teen Mashiro has grown up as a boy but is forced into a wholesale reevaluation of his identity when he's placed into a special extracurricular program. In it, students on the emotional edge enter a nightmare landscape where they must compete for the key to an ambiguous "graduation." (Is it self-acceptance or something less benevolent?) In the waking world, Mashiro finds himself torn between hyper-masculine Sou and pretty, fragile Kureha, both of whom sense the otherness of Mashiro and respond to it for their own reasons. The series runs on adolescent ambivalence and paranoia, and Mizushiro doesn’t flinch away from uncomfortable moments. 
When a comic becomes a franchise, with animated series, movies, video games, novels and art books springing from its unwrinkled brow, it's reasonable to be suspicious. It's trite to note that popularity and quality don't always go hand in hand, though they skip along in unison in the case of Hiromu Arakawa's Fullmetal Alchemist. Arakawa has basically created an excellent super-hero story using a quest structure and fantasy landscape. The Elric brothers mutilated themselves in a misguided attempt to bring their mother back to life. Now they're trying to undo the damage, searching for answers as they use their alchemical abilities in service of a decidedly dodgy military. In addition to the appealing leads, there's a fairly sprawling cast of allies, enemies and undecided parties. A host of subplots make for a faster-than-average pace, though Arakawa doesn't sacrifice character or thematic development in the process. 
Masashi Tanaka's Gon is in its second U.S. printing, offering wordless tales of a tiny, angry dinosaur stomping his way through the wild kingdom. The stories are beautifully drawn and simply conceived, usually built around Gon's desire to be left alone to eat and/or sleep and the efficient delivery of Jurassic justice when another creature is fool enough to disturb him. They're Road Runner cartoons without the anthropomorphism, starring a predator instead of prey, antic and charged with adrenaline. 
For my money, "scary" and "funny" are two great tastes that taste great together. The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, written by Eiji Otsuka and drawn by Housui Yamazaki, leans more on the funny side of the equation, though Yamazaki has a flair for unsettling visuals. The series follows the entrepreneurial adventures of a group of Buddhist university students. Realizing that their education has left them virtually unemployable, they set out to help misplaced bodies find their final resting places so their spirits can find peace (and improve karma in the form of monetary compensation). Otsuka constructs appealingly varied stories from this durable premise, including a book-long mystery in the second volume that I highly recommend, even if you have no plans to commit to the series in the long run. 
There's no shortage of comics featuring gifted humans trying to keep rival species at bay, usually through the liberal application of lethal force. Yuki Urushibara's Mushishi depicts a much more delicate interrelationship between humans and bizarre species of mystical insects called "mushi." Urushibara portrays the sometimes contentious, sometimes benevolent coexistence of man and nature through a series of varied episodes, using a cynical mushi-wrangler named Ginko as her traveling companion. Equal parts wandering shaman and Columbo-esque gumshoe, Ginko's methods are eclectic, his knowledge is encyclopedic, and his bedside manner is wanting. His surly but competent presence grounds the ecological metaphors that are otherwise Urushibara's bread and butter. As an added bonus, Mushishi is wonderfully easy on the eye, and Urushibara's renderings of both the lushness and menace of nature are immersive.
Yotsuba&!, written and drawn by Kiyohiko Azuma, is simply one of the most exuberant comics I've ever read. As in Gon, an oddball outsider navigates a new environment. In this case, it's a pre-school-aged girl exploring the wonders of suburbia with her single father. Yotsuba is a blank slate, viewing everyday phenomenon like air conditioners and swimming lessons with enthusiasm or anxiety, wonder or skepticism. Her wide-eyed perspective provides the perfect catalyst for low-key comedy that never lapses into conventional sit-com rhythms. Whenever I'm in a foul mood, I dig out a volume of this series. I don't know if the Food and Drug Administration would be interested in evaluating its potential as an anti-depressant, but that's how it works for me.
