But what do I mean by an “academic review”? Well, put most simply, the fundamental form of academic writing is the literature review, and the social tenet that holds academic published research together is the citation. If you don’t understand this latter point, hit up Google Scholar, throw in a search term, and you’ll see that the “most important academic works” are those with high “cited by” counts.

Anyway, so how can we provide an academic bent to review writing? Well, there are technically already “academic reviews” available: simply pick up a copy of Mechademia and flip to the back pages, where you’ll find a host of critically insightful reviews of anime and manga titles. These reviews provide references to and citations of other academic texts, but tend to avoid other reviews from professional reviewers, other academics, or whomever.

The idea I would like to put forth in this short article, though, is that there’s another type of “academic review” that is not really used: reviews that reference previously-written reviews, as if the networks of reviewers mirrored the networks of academics that make up contemporary academic research matrices.

Looking through some criticism about writing reviews for anime and manga, once in a while I see authors writing, “So-and-so has already said enough about this title, so I don’t really have much more to say.” But I want to criticize these stances, because a reviewing author should take into account what others view about a piece of media, at the very least to inform his or her own opinion in the review-to-be-written.

I’ve been meaning to add more reviews of anime and manga titles to this blog, but I’ve continually taken the approach of writing critical, exploratory essays about the titles rather than mere reviews. So starting soon, I’m going to attempt to publish a few academic reviews on this blog that reference reviews currently written in the blogosphere.

Of course, I perceive an interesting gap in the current anime/manga blogging phenomenon, which is that there’s not much written about what both the Japanese- and English-language spheres are saying about a particular work. In the hopes that this will help (read: force) me to translate more Japanese writing about anime and manga, particularly from notable — though probably random — Japanese bloggers, I’m going to start writing reviews that reference the current discourse on Japanese popular media. Because that’s what academic is all about: creating, interacting with, and maintaining critical discourse about topics.

I hope that this will help foster greater communication between, or at least appreciation and understanding of, the Japanese and English fandoms.

I’d love to hear what others have to say about this referential approach: please leave comments! And hopefully I’ll have a review up in the next week or so. I’ll be starting with Asano Inio‘s relatively-unknown manga, Goodnight Punpun (Oyasumi Punpun).

Yotsuba&!, pronounced Yotsubato (よつばと, or “Four Leaves and… !”) in Japanese to include the ampersand, is a comedy-driven comic written by Kiyohiko Azuma. It was published beginning in March 2003 and still runs in Dengeki Daioh magazine.

Yotsuba&! was made available to English-speaking audiences by ADV Manga; however, Yen Press took over the license and republished the volumes in 2009. You can buy it through the 3rd-party sellers on Amazon for pretty cheap. In fact, you should buy it.

Yotsuba&! is a comic about a young girl named Yotsuba who moves to a new neighborhood with her father. The comic follows the eccentric, everyday trivialities of Yotsuba as she interacts with her father, neighbors, and town.

It’s a fairly simple story that requires barely any explanation. It’s a comic about a girl who does stuff, akin to how Virginia Woolf’s novel Mrs. Dalloway basically boils down to a story about a lady as she goes around her daily routines. As strange as that sounds, Yotsuba&! is a comic about dealing with the hilarious things that occur in daily life (even if some of those things might be caused by a weird, little girl). With chapters titled “Yotsuba and Drawing,” “Yotsuba and the Culture Festival,” and “Yotsuba and Typhoons,” it’s really just a comic about everything and a girl. Basically, what the title says: Yotsuba & !.

There are three things that I wish this essay to achieve:

1) Explore where Yotsuba&! is situated in the Japanese comics industry and the minds of its (adult?) readers.
2) Look at how Kiyohiko Azuma has developed as an artist and how that is illustrated in Yotsuba&!.
3) Explain why Yotsuba&! (in relation to Azuma’s other works) says a lot about writing comic comics.

1

To begin, let’s look a bit more at Yotsuba&!‘s method of publication. As I said previously, Azuma’s comic is serialized in Dengeki Daioh (電撃大王, King of Electric Shocks) magazine, and has been running since March 2003. Azumanga Daioh, for which Azuma is most known, also ran in this comics magazine.

Before I continue, I feel the need to explain how magazines work in Japan. Somewhat similar to American television ratings, the Japanese comics industry targets its comics to demographics. In America, these tend to look like “Male 18-30″ or “Female 45+.” In Japan, comics demographics are similar but are categorized by name. Basically, they’re split into four categories: boys (少年, shounen), girls (少女, shoujo), young men (青年, seinen), and young women (女性, josei). Most comics are targeted to one of these four demographics, though the actual readership can vary wildly (eg., older men can read comics for girls).

So, with that in mind, Dengeki Daioh caters to a specific demographic. If you check the Wikipedia page, it notes that the magazine is aimed at boys (shonen). However, you’ll note in the History of edits that this was changed from young men (seinen) back in 2006, supposedly when the magazine shifted to a monthly schedule.

Based on the actual comics we see in Dengeki Daioh, we might posit the magazine to cater to somewhere between the shonen and seinen readerships (Zac Berteschy argues for the same interpretation in 2005). The cover images above illustrate that most of the stories found in these issues revolve around bishoujo (美少女, beautiful young girls) protagonists. The image below, which is a 2009 calendar celebrating Dengeki Daioh‘s popular female leads, highlights the same point.

I take a look at Dengeki Daioh‘s stories and readers because Yotsuba&! has been constantly criticized for being a story about a young girl in a men’s magazine, and then subsequently is defended as a suitable — and specifically innocent — comedy for guys (one good piece is by Jason Thompson on Moé: The Cult of the Child). The underlying tone in this criticism, of course, is that Yotsuba&! might be seen as a moé or bishoujo comic, which spontaneously taints it. I’m not going to argue for or against these demographic-genres, but Dengeki Daioh is certainly a magazine aimed at a younger audience than other seinen or adult magazines (such as Comic High! — which contains titles such as Chu-Bra!! and Kodomo no Jikan or Comic LO, which publishes erotic lolita titles).

Instead of situating Yotsuba&! in the context of bishoujo comics, instead I will argue that it is a comic for (young) adults. Which might be a little ironic, given that the Manga Moveable Feast is meant to shine the spotlight on comics for kids. And with the all ages rating for Yotsuba&!‘s release in the U.S., it would make sense as a satisfactory choice. However, I will argue against this notion, and instead uphold that Yotsuba&! is meant for the audience that it targets in Japan. It’s a story about a young girl, but the humor is in the relationships she maintains in an adult world. When she interacts with kids, (older teen and adult) readers laugh at the ridiculous situations, expressions, and reactions that emerge. When she interacts with adults, older readers laugh because they connect with the adults in the comic, who also see Yotsuba as pretty ridiculous. Of course, Yotsuba&! is also about “all the rest” (&!), and the short stories that we see of the adults in her world are just as funny because older readers can relate.

Yotsuba&! is a comic for adults. Not in the sense of perversion or ecchi perspectives. Instead, it’s a comic that older readers will understand, and with which younger readers — while they might enjoy it — will have a more difficult time associating.

2 + 3

If you know anything about Kiyohiko Azuma, you should recognize his name from the cover of Azumanga Daioh, which — as I previously mentioned — also ran in Dengeki Daioh starting in February 1999. If you do a quick scan of Azuma’s Wikipedia page, though, you’ll notice that he has done other earlier work. These include:

Inma no Ranbu (1997)
Try! Try! Try! (1998–2001)
Wallaby (1998–2000)

Try! Try! Try! is actually the predecessor to Yotsuba&!, and follows pretty much the same characters with Yotsuba as the protagonist. Wallaby is a story about a girl who sews a stuffed wallaby in memory of her recently-deceased classmate, Warabi. His soul comes to inhabit the toy animal, though the girl never understands that it is her friend (because the name Wallaby in Japanese, ワラビ, is the same as わらび, the boy’s name… if that wasn’t already obvious). And Inma no Ranbu (淫魔の乱舞, The Lust Demon’s Boisterous Dance) is an adult, erotic comic about female warriors getting sexed up, illustrated by Azuma (though he published under a pseudonym, for obvious reasons).

It’s interesting to look at the spectrum of Azuma’s titles and how they define his career. The character designs are fairly set in stone if we begin with Inma no Ranbu.

The backgrounds are nonexistent (what’s the point in an erotic comic, right?), and the facial expressions are fairly plain. The art style overall is minimal with strength in the line work, though it barely varies.

Wallaby shows improvement. Definitely not in the background art, as it barely exists in this comic as well, but Wallaby represents probably the primary space where Azuma practices his facial expressions. The character designs are still a bit wonky, but they improve going into Azumanga Daioh. The background art, however, improves dramatically, as Azuma makes distinct decisions to create a world for his characters to inhabit. Almost in complete contrast to Wallaby, Yotsuba&!‘s backgrounds and peripheral images (such as objects that characters interact with) are fine-tuned and extremely detailed.

The only copy of Try! Try! Try! I could look through was a one-shot from 2001. The style mirrors that of Yotsuba&! if you compare it to the original chapters, which is a bit interesting, since it seems that Azuma’s solidified his art style by 2001.

However, Yotsuba&! is an interesting case if we want to move away from talking about just “art style” and talk about “comic style.” And to do that, we actually have two things to work out: “comic style” as in 1) comics, and 2) comedy.

Azumanga Daioh, while popular perhaps because of its anime adaptation, ran in Dengeki Daioh as a 4-frame comic (四コマ漫画, 4-koma manga). The 4-koma has a long history in Japan before World War 2 (you can read more about it at Wikipedia). All of Azuma’s other comics are in ordinary format, including Yotsuba&!. So what does it matter that Yotsuba&! is not a 4-koma?

First, let me remark on Azuma’s other comics. Comic artists in Japan constantly have to battle to find the right balance between text (the words on the page), image (the drawings of characters and place), and structure (number and arrangement of panels). Azuma’s early works, such as Inma and Wallaby, suffer from having an imbalance between these three comic elements. Azumanga Daioh‘s 4-koma structure, on the other hand, enforces a balance between the elements that Azuma masters and through which he creates hilarious situations in every column.

Yotsuba&!, though, is not a 4-koma comic. It is structured like an ordinary comic. But for reasons to be explained, it finds an excellent balance between these text, images, and structure.

From here on, I will argue that Yotsuba&! secretly hides a 4-koma-like structure in how it organizes its humor.

The 4-frame comic is organized as kishoutenketsu (起承転結, or “intro, development, turn, and conclusion”). Each of the four “stages” of the narrative development in 4-koma represents one frame of the comic, and one full joke is complete at the end of each set of four.

Again, Yotsuba&! is not a 4-koma comic. However, while each chapter is set up as a distinct plot (eg., Yotsuba plays with her dad) with its own jokes, every page in itself contains a joke or funny moment. Now, I could list off the jokes on every page, but I feel like you’ll just get the point by going out and reading the comic! But I can, at least, explain what I mean about the “secret 4-koma structure.” By working on Azumanga Daioh, Azuma adjusted the way he told jokes to fit the 4-koma format, but in doing so he perfected telling jokes by aligning one frame with another. Reading Yotsuba&! feels like reading a 4-koma with varying numbers and sizes of frames. You can read Yotsuba&! and pick out different jokes, and for the most part they fit into 4-koma-like structures. However, the continual jokes do not hinder the narrative; instead, they help with character development, and each chapter of Yotsuba&! seems like a handful of 4-koma gently woven together into a more film-like form.

In fact, you can see Azuma doing a special rendition of Yotsuba&! in the 4-frame comic format between chapters 27 and 28. And the great revelation is that it doesn’t feel any different from reading the comic as regularly written and drawn.

Improving on Azuma’s earlier work, Yotsuba&! also illustrates that Azuma has figured out how to create impressionable comics. What I mean, basically, is that when Azuma wants to let his characters’ personalities shine, he can give each moment an impact. Usually these impacts consist of Yotsuba becoming really surprised…

… but these moments are constantly hilarious. These quick changes in emotion — spanning across two frames — are, I believe, a direct impact of Azuma’s work with 4-koma, as you’ll usually see that kind of comedic dichotomy between the 2nd and 3rd or 3rd and 4th frames of 4-koma. Yotsuba&!‘s humor is aided by Azuma’s love of sound effects, which actually pervade and dominate all of his works (eg., see the image from Inma above). I love how he uses them in a lot of Yotsuba&!‘s early scenes, especially ones where there’s not a lot of necessary noise (like waking up in the morning or working quietly), to emphasize the personalities of his characters.

Interestingly, the hard-hitting humor that pervades a lot of Yotsuba&!‘s early chapters begins to dissipate in Azuma’s later work on the series. It’s not that the humor disappears, but we get to see a lot more humble moments shared between the characters, particularly in collected silence. In my opinion, I think the reason for the change is that Azuma realized the popularity and worth of Yotsuba&! as a comic that represents more than just “a comic for guys,” that it reflects a lot about the relationships between the characters in the world he has created. And it’s moments like these…

… that I think define what Yotsuba&!‘s all about: loving daily life and the awesome moments that humor us.

The New York Times this past weekend ran a celebratory article (and you should read it) about film professor and critic, David Borwell. Bordwell teaches at the University of Wisconsin, Madison; he composes a huge compilation of analytical essays at his blog; and he’s the former mentor to one of my academic mentors, Henry Jenkins.

Bordwell has been a film critic for practically FOREVER, and he’s written some impressive and influential film criticism texts, such as “The Classical Hollywood Cinema: Film Style & Mode of Production to 1960″, in which he explains the history of film through the lens of technological development in relation to the Hollywood style.

Now, I’ve been thinking (also FOREVER) about media criticism and how I should apply it to both my thinking and my writing (specifically for this blog).

If we think about the fan response to Japanese animation (opinionated and published, by word, voice, video, etc.), the leading voices tend to have been reviewers: the trio from Anime World Order for a contemporary example, or — as an classic illustration — writers for old fanzines (such as through the Cartoon/Fantasy Organization) who compiled episode synopses and shared opinions about series to progress the knowledge that, basically, anime exists.

However, I want to push back against the concept of “the reviewer,” because the position sits as an odd point between objective journalism and subjective personal grandstanding. I appreciate the wonderful breadth of series that, for example, Anime World Order explores, because the number one rule to being able to talk about anime is to watch it. However, I feel that to gain a more detailed and elaborate understanding of anime, fans need to move beyond their position as reviewer and advance toward that of “critic.”

I bring up the Bordwell article, because the author describes Bordwell’s approach to film in exactly the terms that I want to approach analyses of Japanese animation:

Counting blinks is just one of Mr. Bordwell’s strategies for understanding movies, the fundamental goal of the critic. Rather than just gassing on about his interpretations (as reviewers can do) or starting with a theory and finding a set of movies that support that theory (as scholars will do), he looks to the movies first, analyzing what is happening at the level of sight and sound, then extrapolating meaning.

Now, the author also critiques academics, who can tend to analyze their subject in terms of their own ideas, rather than develop ideas based on their subject (one example might be the “X and Philosophy series,” of which anime has one). But I think that the core bit of appreciation that the article promotes is that the critic analyses the media and then extracts the meaning. Of course, to move beyond the reviewer, this meaning says something about how the media operates rather than simply what the media contains (and maybe the impressions that the media evokes).

I’m trying to push this blog (when I release more content habitually) toward the perspective of a critic, which is why I tend to avoid writing reviewer-ly articles. If you’re looking for more prolific authors, you should check out:

- Awesome Engine
- Anipages Daily
- Ani no Miyako
- Welcome Datacomp

Word came in today that I’ll be speaking at Ignite Boston 7.

I’m going to be speaking about Japanese fans’ affinity for 2D chicks at Ignite Boston 7 next week on Thursday 4 March 2010. If you can’t make it to Boston, the event is part of Global Ignite week, so the video will be streamed live online and eventually posted on the upcoming Ignite video portal.

Registration (it’s free) and info is here: http://microsoftcambridge.com/Events/IgniteBoston7/tabid/287/Default.aspx

But quick info for those disinterested in clicking links:

Ignite Boston 7 will be Thursday, March 4, 2010 from 6pm to 9:00pm. The event will be at Microsoft’s newest campus, the New England Research & Development office (NERD) right in Kendall Square in Cambridge, MA.

Since there is limited space at the venue, you must RSVP on this page to have an opportunity to get into the event; but admission is on a first-come/first-served basis (to account for RSVPs who end up not making it; we don’t want to waste spaces). By RSVP’ing you will also be entered for a chance to win $300 worth of O’Reilly books of your choice. You must be present to win. There will likely be other items like tee-shirts and other promo items for those who alert us ahead that they plan to attend. If you plan to attend, and do not RSVP you will be put in the ‘wait-list’ queue.

Today is the deadline for panel submissions, and last night I sent in three presentations that will hopefully make it onto the schedule in a few months. Check them out below!

1) Memes, Microcultures, and 2D Chicks: Our Future in the Otaku Gamer

A singing idol who doesn’t exist. Perverted text adventures boasting dozens of female prizes. And a popular, anime-tized evolution of the classic Space Invaders shooter that has spawned a global fandom. Japan’s subcultural players are obsessed with games that, well, aren’t actually about the gaming. Alex Leavitt (Comparative Media Studies, MIT) explains how a new generation of entertainment is succeeding in a market which chooses to de-emphasize the games in favor of the characters. And as the Japanese fans influence the industry through their own amateur initiatives, what will the future of American gaming hold when online fandoms adopt similar appetites?

2) Exploring International Geek Cultures Through Games

Even in the era of Internet forums and online gaming communities, our understanding of how and why geeks come together through games is pretty pathetic. From Europe to Asia to America, this panel takes a look at the technological environment in which gamers grew up and the transnational space in which geeks play today. Join Alex Leavitt (Comparative Media Studies, MIT) as he moderates a discussion between Philip Tan (Singapore-MIT GAMBIT Game Lab), Prof. Mia Consalvo (Visiting Professor, MIT), and Dr. Clara Fernández-Vara (GAMBIT) on the modern convergence and recurrent differences of the national geek factions that make up the global gaming ecosystem.

3) Trolling the Tubes: Culture Hacking Through Online Gaming

Thousands of Internet users cultivate pixelated gardens in Farmville, raise cyber-chickens in Second Life, and earn livings on Mechanical Turk without realizing that they are changing the face of online culture. From FreeRice to OKCupid, from gold miners in China to 4chan-ers in America, Alex Leavitt (Comparative Media Studies, MIT) takes a look at how online communities are redefining our friends, reorganizing our lives, and restructuring our society into a gaming culture. What will the future of the Internet look like when social networking might mean a social battleground of bots, trolls, and colorful flamewars?

I’m glad to see a new development along these lines, especially one that I can discuss briefly.

Trailer for Japan.

If you haven’t had a chance to check it out, the trailer for Lasse Hallström’s new movie, Hachi: A Dog’s Tale, has recently been passed around the major OMG-Japan link sites (like Japanator).

If you don’t know the story behind Hachiko, you can read up on the most loyal dog in the history of forever at Wikipedia. The tale is simple: a dog waits for his owner, a professor at the University of Tokyo, every day near Shibuya’s train station. When the owner dies, the dog keeps waiting. The story of Hachiko is infamous in Japan — the result of an article published in a national newspaper by one of the professor’s former students — and might be equivalent to, say, the story of Paul Revere (for Americans), as a piece of cultural history in the minds of the Japanese. Hachiko has even become an idiom of sorts, known primarily as 忠犬ハチ公 (loyal dog Hachiko), and the dog has an annual ceremony dedicated to him, held at his statue in Shibuya Square.

Photographed in Shibuya, October 2008

Looking at this trailer, though, the film immediately caused a bit of confusion. It’s an English-language movie based on a real Japanese story marketed first to a Japanese audience (with a later release to an American audience) with a trailer in Japanese but requiring Japanese subtitles. I can work around the lingual barriers present here, but — c’mon — it’s a bit circuitous.

On top of the linguistic clash, there’s also the problem of the movie as produced. The qualifying prerequisite to explaining said problem is to understand that a movie was already made in Japan.

Clips from the original Japanese film, 1987.

Hollywood remakes movies a lot, and while there are critics of multiple versions of the same film, we can’t outright denounce this film based on an earlier (potentially better) Japanese counterpart. However, the fact that Hachiko is filmed in America with an American cast produces the problem: the story of Hachiko is placed into an American context.

Trailer for United States.

After watching the American trailer, I hope you can understand what I mean by “American context.” This second trailer disregards the origins of the story, and I am frankly surprised that it didn’t state something along the lines of “A real story based on the popular Japanese tale.” The movie was filmed in Connecticut, and it obviously ignores the Shibuya locale (replacing it with Bedridge Station), the name of the professor, etc. From the trailer, it seems that the film ignores the Japanese side of the story altogether. It’s a remake, and poetic license like this is never discouraged. However, I wonder how many members of the American audiences will question the name of the dog, Hachiko (or, here, Hachi). It’s very Japanese sounding, plain and simple. Would the Japanese association minus the Japanese context create a barrier for a non-Japanese viewer?

In comparison, the Japanese trailer presents a much different film. I especially want to highlight the song (with Japanese lyrics) that plays in the second half of the trailer. The first words we hear are 忘れないよ、忘れないよ (don’t forget, don’t forget), which parallel Hachiko’s thoughts of his owner, but also reflect and emphasize the historical context that underlies the film (Japanese people have not and will not forget about this dog and his story). I assume that Japan will receive an early release of this movie solely because Hachiko remains such a cultural figure there, and the producers are trying to bank on the story’s popularity. However, I also wonder if the English-language and American actors will distance Japanese viewers from connecting directly and emotionally with the movie.

Going back to America, I must question the retention of the Akita dog breed, at least when presented to the American audience. Bluntly, I laud the directors for not changing the breed. However, Akitas (and Shibas, since the puppy in the film is actually a 柴犬) are so rare to see in the States that I wonder if it even makes sense to import the Hachiko story with an American context, particularly when there’s already competition with Bolt, Homeward Bound, Milo & Otis, and especially Lassie (though Hachiko’s popularity preceded Lassie’s by at least 5 years). Perhaps pet-movie obsession has fizzled out by now though, maybe even provoked by What I guess I’m trying to say in this last point is that, in Japan, Shiba dogs are EVERYWHERE, so I think Japanese will take to the dog fairly easily, while there might be some hesitance on the part of Americans.

I don’t mean to demean the movie, and I certainly hope that more Americans will take the time to look up the story of Hachiko with the film’s release. However, I don’t want people to regard this film as “the next Airbud.”

Oh, and if you check out the film’s Japanese site (there’s no English one), Richard Gere from the side looks like an authentic おじいさん (old man).

Anime Expo was awesome, hands down. If I have panels accepted next year, I will make an effort to return, definitely. And there are many critical comments I can make about Anime Expo, such as the relationship between industry and fans, or the large size of the convention as justification for its importance (though in my opinion it shouldn’t have to be). Today, I’m going to focus on the Anime Expo dealers’ room.

Anime Expo’s dealers’ room is gigantic. If you’ve ever been limited to East Coast conventions, I would estimate its size to be slightly bigger than that of Otakon. For illustration, it took me a half-hour to browse through one-third of the floor, and I only stopped at two booths for a maximum of three minutes each.

Because Anime Expo is an industry convention (versus a “by fans for fans” convention), the dealers’ room also somewhat resembles Japanese industry conventions, such as Tokyo Game Show. A lot of booths exist just to advertise wares, such as this Astroy Boy movie booth. Still, while a small number of booths boasted walls of gigantic placards, Anime Expo’s room is littered with ordinary booths that hawk anime, manga, and cat ears.

I’m honestly not one of those junkies who stalk out the dealers’ room on the first day of the con, constantly returning to check up on discounted prices, lurking in the shadows to pounce on that ultra rare figure that I hid in the back corner to elude the price-sniffing of others. I buy a lot of my anime and manga online. In the past, I made minimal effort to visit Tokyo Kid, the anime store in Harvard Square. Usually, I know what I want, and I go online to find it cheaply.

Of course, nowadays with the price of DVDs and books on the decline (you can find videos on RightStuf.com for $10 or less, or books on Amazon for at least 25% off), dealer’s rooms are trying to keep up. On most Sundays the dealers scream at the top of their lungs to make sure every fan becomes aware of their “Buy 1 manga, get 5 free!” bargain. Still, after paying $50+ dollars for the convention (though I haven’t done that in a few years, due to panels), I honestly don’t want to waste a few hours in the dealer’s room only to realize that they don’t have what I want to read. Once in a while, I’ll find a great deal (like all twelve volumes of Tezuka’s “Phoenix” manga for $100 at Anime Boston), but otherwise, why can’t I just find things I want online? I’m not into serendipitous buying sprees after all.

At Anime Expo, I bought only one thing in the dealers’ room (besides an omiyage poster in the Artists’ Alley): a copy of Tezuka’s “Swallowing the Earth,” published recently by Digital Manga. Truthfully, I only grabbed it because I got an in-the-last-15-minutes discount of $20. Otherwise, I looked around at every booth, but bought nothing.

However, I came home with a lot of anime-related booty. The cause? Book Off.

I wrote in an article last week about my experiences at the Book Off in New York City and how it’s easy to find manga on the cheap, usually for $1 per volume. While at Anime Expo, I had the privilege of staying with the illustrious Deb Aoki, writer and reviewer of the About.com manga section. On Saturday afternoon, she drove me and a few writers over at Japanator.com to one of the Book Offs in Los Angeles. While not as large as the NY Book Off, I still picked up a number of intriguing items (all of them in Japanese).

First, I found two not-so-expensive “Groundwork of Evangelion” art books. As you can see from the scanned images, they were Volumes 2 and 3, and I’m not so sure where I should pick up Volume 1, but (again, looking at the scans) I only spent $12.50 and $15.00 respectively. Awesome! Especially when the MSRP of these two books is ¥2500 and ¥3000 (about $25 and $30, though these would easily sell in the dealer’s room for $45+). The books are practically new — only the edges are slightly rough — and the images inside (all production sketches with a few color illustrations in the front) will make any Eva fanboy cream his pants.

The rest of the books I picked up were only $1 each. Pretty awesome finds.

First, I picked up some manga. As I mentioned in that previous article, buying manga at Book Off is a bit difficult, not only because it’s hard to find the comics by their publisher, but also if you haven’t done any research into the comics, you’re not necessarily sure with what reading level you’re challenging yourself. However, browsing through the titles, I happened upon School Rumble, a series that I’ve never read or seen, but one that has been constantly pimped to me by a number of reliable friends. After examining the content, I decided to pick up the first four volumes (there were about a dozen there, but #5 was missing).

Next, hidden among the art book section, I found Katsuhiro Otomo’s early works Anthology. The 250-page, large-size book features about a half-dozen of Otomo’s shorter stories that were never published in English (and, according to Deb, never will be, because Otomo doesn’t like his works localized, apparently). The art is amazing, and while I’ve been looking for good copies of the English translations of the Akira manga for months, it’s certainly a nice supplement.

Finally, also among the art books, I found this $1 piece of curated information on the history and development of anime in Japan. The title reads, “The New Conquering the World Japanese Culture: Japan’s Anime.” This is pretty much the book that needs to be published in America, because it’s a really interesting primer (with hundreds of large, color images!) for any type of anime fan that doesn’t know the basic history of Japanese animation. The text covers a lot of the major players, including Miyazaki, Tezuka, Otomo, Oshii, and Anno, and also provides good context for the commercial markets of kids’ anime and toys. One chapter focuses dually on the evolution of robots and cute girls in anime. The section that convinced me to purchase the book (besides the $1 price tag), though, was the end of the compilation, which provides a lot of information on the history of anime from 1917 to 2003 (the publication date), the digital creation of anime, and particularly the relationship between anime and the television studios that produced them. The last few pages present a nice timeline of anime on television starting with Astro Boy in 1963. The opportunity to look at anime history graphically really hits home the fact that, OMG, there’s a lot of anime out there.

If I have the time in the near future, I’m going to upload a LOT of scans from this book and attempt to translate what I can.

In total, I spent less than $40 at Book Off. Of course, you need to know Japanese to purchase these and actually comprehend them, but still… $40 for 5 volumes of manga and 3 rather impressive texts. And so I return to the thought imposed on the beginning of this article: Is there a future for anime and manga in convention dealers’ rooms? Basically, the answer will always be Yes. But it may be true that the stronghold that dealers’ rooms had on fans in conventions from the 1990s has almost certainly weakened today. Some of this might be attributed to fans not purchasing series after they watch fansubs or read scanlations, but also, with Netflix, Amazon, and other cheap alternatives, fans can own media for much less than in the past. No wonder the American industry is slipping. And with streaming websites that provide free episodes to fans online… Really, how many fans are going to buy the DVDs after they watch it once? Perhaps the real question might be: What kind of value are fans assigning to the media the consume? Where does the line of rewatchability exist for modern anime fans that do not possess knowledge of “anime greats,” like Oshii and Kon, like Anno and Ishiguro? And what might the breakdown be between the consumption of anime and manga versus other things, like cat ears, figurines, and other merchandise being sold in modern exhibition halls?

Since I was in Los Angeles for Anime Expo, I decided to spend at least one day at the University of California at Riverside, which houses the Eaton Collection of Science Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, & Utopian Literature. Inside the Eaton Collection lies a stockpile of 900 boxes of fandom history, called the Fred Patten Collection on Science Fiction and Animation.

If you don’t know much about the early history of the American anime fandom, Fred Patten almost “officially” started it when he founded the Cartoon Fantasy Organization in 1977. Many Japanese companies, artists, and directors contacted Fred over the years, and through the C/FO he, along with many other fans, initiated the processes that would give birth to our contemporary anime industry. Unfortunately, Fred had a stroke in 2005, after which his friends boxed up all of his accumulated fandom memorabilia and sent them to UC Riverside’s Rivera Library special collections department. If you want to find out more about Fred or the early years of the fandom, go to Amazon and pick up Watching Anime, Reading Manga: 25 Years of Essays and Reviews.

Assuming that Fred’s collection would be fairly organized and comprised of mainly English fan works, I arrived this morning at UC Riverside (after a three-hour bus ride) to scope out the collection for potential future research. I spent the entire day looking through only ten boxes of documents (and occasionally antique toys and other items of historic interest). Half my time was spent slogging through hundreds of ads that ordinary fans would automatically toss into the trash, but it seems that Fred kept everything anime-related that he ever encountered. However, I did encounter a number of fundamental fanzines, specifically those of the original C/FO chapter as well as of other sub-chapters, along with various old convention booklets. Surprisingly, Fred also possessed a large hoard of documents, pictures, cels, and toys from Japan, some that he probably bought and others most likely sent to him. A prize for the biggest surprise of the day goes directly to the business itinerary for Osamu Tezuka’s visit to the United States in 1980.

I called this article Trials and Tribulations because the Fred Patten collection is a saving grace for any fans interested in studying/researching the American (and Japanese) anime/manga/etc. fandom, but also remains quite cumbersome to approach. The collection is barely archived. Any attempt to find a specific item related to anime or manga requires searching through at least thirty boxes of thousands of papers. Apparently at least 80% of the donated collection has yet to even be touched or examined by the library’s archivists.

Still, I enjoyed my time searching through those ten boxes. I took about 300 pictures, though I will not post them online. I am considering approaching Fred to ask if I can return in the future to scan the booklets and fanzines to add to the Otaku Archive, maybe building this project up to a fully-fledged website as well. If you’re in the LA area, email the library staff and drop by the collection some day. If you’re too far, try to satisfy yourself with some of the gems I’ve photographed above.

Upon returning to the States, I realized that, well, Japanese manga’s pretty difficult to read, even when I’ve already taken three years of Japanese. I haven’t really attempted to examine Fruits Basket, but looking at the level of language in Honey & Clover, I’ve realized that josei manga is clearly aimed at an older readership. Yes, it’s kind of obvious, but a simple thing like colloquial language (and boy does H&C show off its conversational vocabulary) really emphasizes the relationship between audience demographics and linguistic content.

My purpose for reading original Japanese manga is two-fold: one, to read the original (providing a bit of context, especially since the Japanese language is so contextual), and two, to improve my Japanese skills. In relation to the latter point, I know that manga isn’t the best type of literature with which to be practicing my reading ability, but the enjoyment accompanying the reading comics certainly helps the ease into education in the long run. The problem that I face: finding manga that fits the right level for my reading abilities.

Book Off is an amazing place. Yes, it boasts a wide range of manga translated into English, but as a Japanese book store it provides access to hundreds of volumes more, especially many series not available in America. Over the past year, I have increasingly wanted to emphasize that fans push themselves to learn the language, because I feel that knowledge puts approaches to Japanese popular culture into a more authentic context while providing a means of entry into pursuing media other than those issued by American publishers. Then again, I can appreciate those fans that watch anime out of a passion for it, whether or not it’s translated. SDS recently thought about this, writing, “One should not presume to speak authoritatively about anime and manga without at least understanding a little about the “language” that accompanies them. I of course am not saying you should literally study Japanese (although it can certainly help) but that you should not pigeonhole anime and manga entirely into the context of your own field, subordinating it to your greater topic while simultaneously denying its own creative and artistic language and structures.” Though I’m not sure there’s an intrinsic connection between language and such denial, I do agree that ignoring part of the context of the media — namely the linguistic element — challenges a full understanding of the work as a whole.

Anyway, last weekend after hanging out at a reunion with my friends from the Kyoto Consortium for Japanese Studies, I picked up the above three books, which cost me a total of $2.50 (another reason why Book Off is amazing: really low prices, even when it’s imported manga). The first is a light novel adaptation of the Pokemon series, which covers up to about episode six of the televised series. The second is Beck: I’ve seen the anime, so I assume an easier comprehension, yet it was also published in Monthly Shonen Magazine (Kodansha), a comics magazine for younger readers, so almost all of the kanji have associated furigana. The third is Blackjack ni Yoroshiku, a new take on Tezuka’s Blackjack but set inside the hospital infrastructure. This last text might have been a stretch, because I realize it’s going to contain a lot of medical terms, but maybe it’ll help with my kanji reading (I need to start learning more than just kyouiku kanji, especially for the JLPT 2 exam in December).

I had an idea while choosing these manga though. Currently, there is no database for manga based on both review and level of Japanese. So, for those learning the Japanese language, we have to go by intimate recommendation or personal experience. However, I’m sure that a project like this could easily be crowdsourced by a small group of anime fans, to help a unique set of fans learn to pick up good manga without turning them away because they lack the linguistic ability. So, if someone’s interested in possibly setting this up, I have a few hours free to help out.

Been pretty busy this week (as evidenced by the lack of updates). Right now, I’m done in New York, prepping for the Open Video Conference, being held at NYU Law.

I’ll be presenting a talk on Saturday at 5:00 pm called “Online Video Culture: The Case of Fansubs, Anime Music Videos, and Copyright.” What I’m “supposed” to talk about:

The first fansubs (episodes of Japanese animation subtitled by fans, for fans) and AMVs (anime music videos, in which Japanese animation is timed to music) were produced in the United States in the 1980s in fans’ homes on VCR players. Twenty years later, these pieces of videography have proliferated across the Internet, creating an online video culture that has clashed with commercial forces as new issues of distribution and copyright have arisen. Alex Leavitt, a researcher of anime & manga studies and an analyst on the YouTomb project, will discuss the involvement of these fan groups with “illegal” production and file sharing; the videos’ ramifications on copyright law and discussions of free use; and the cultural flow of these fan-produced videos in contention with the new commercial and legal models of streaming sites (Crunchyroll, FUNimation, & Hulu) and sharing hubs (YouTube & Nico Nico Douga).

If you’re interested in awesome talks and interesting people, check out the Open Video Conference website starting on Friday at 10:00 am, because all of the talks will be streaming online for your viewing pleasure. Also, if you can’t take the time out this weekend, all of the talks will be recorded and made available to the world. Check out all the details here.