MangaBlog

The Cute Book
Aranzi Aronzo
Vertical, $12.95

The Bad Book
Aranzi Aronzo
Vertical, $12.95

Regular readers have seen many mentions of my daughters in this blog. That’s because at ages 12 and 14, they have a very different perspective on manga, one that is probably closer to the typical reader than most of us bloggers. In short, they are my product testers. And if their reaction is any guide, the Aranzi Aronzo books are going to be a huge success.

Warning: Cuteness ahead!

The girls first spotted the books in the Vertical catalogue, and just the cover images were enough to set off swoons and demands. When the review copies arrived in the mail, they were instantly taken by them and I was promptly dragged off to the fabric store, where we bought armloads of felt and embroidery floss in various colors.

Then my little product testers really went to work. The following day was a snow day, and they spent it happily occupied with making little bunnies, cats, and bears, as detailed in The Cute Book. Even better, they did it with a minimum of parental help, which is just as well because I can’t sew at all. My husband did help them with the French knots, but once they got the hang of it, we were superfluous.

Actual critters made by my daughters from instructions in The Cute Book, with absolutely no intervention from me.

I therefore give The Cute Book my highest recommendation: It’s a craft book that really works. Unlike, say, Martha Stewart, the Aranzi Aronzo people have come up with patterns that look good even when ordinary people make them. The projects only take a few hours to make, don’t require exotic equipment like sewing machines, and look nice when they’re finished. All the crafts are pretty much the same—little stuffed figures—but the instructions are clear and the authors have come up with enough clever variations to keep them interesting. There’s the cat, the bunny, the bird, yes, but we also have Bad Guy, Liar, and my favorite, Kidnapper. They’re simple enough for kids but witty enough for adults.

The Bad Book is a little harder to explain. Mostly it’s about the above-mentioned Bad Guy, a little black felt critter with one eye higher than the other. A series of brief comics, some drawn and some photographed, fotonovela-style, show him doing various bad things—eating in bed, insulting people, spraying the viewer with water. The comics are short, so there isn’t much plot, although Bad Guy does get fairly well developed as a character. It’s really variations on a single joke (How bad is the Bad Guy? This bad!), but it’s cleverly done and thought-provoking in places. Being conditioned by manga, I think $12.99 is a lot for a 50-page book, but it is a hardcover and it’s printed in beautiful full color throughout. Vertical’s attention to quality obviously extends to their color printing. I suppose it works best as a gift book, and if I were giving The Cute Book as a gift (which I very likely will) I would throw in this one as well.

The Aranzi Aronzo line is the latest manifestation of the Japanese love of cuteness. Created by two Japanese women, the characters are neither as bland as Hello Kitty nor as bizarre as the San-X creations. Vertical has set up a website where readers can sample previews of the books and upload photos of their own creations, and they have several more Aranzi Aronzo books on their list. While it’s basically a commercial line of licenseable characters, Aranzi Aronzo also shows a lot of creativity and a touch of weirdness, and I think it should do well.

The Cute Book stands well on its own merits as a really different craft book for adults or older children. The Bad Book is a completely different concept but interesting in its own right. Both are beautifully produced and would make excellent gifts for friends and relatives with creative tendencies, even if they have no interest in Japanese culture.

(This review is based on complimentary copies supplied by the publisher.)

Black Sun Silver Moon, vol. 1
by Tomo Maeda
Rated OT, 16+
Go!Comi, $10.99

I know that there is a whole genre of clergy manga in Japan, but it’s still weird for a nice Catholic girl with me to read a story like Black Sun, Silver Moon, in which the main characters are supposed to be priests.

Both men look good in black and have vaguely supernatural qualities, but that’s as priestly as they get. The only religious imagery in the book is the cross on top of the church where they live.

This church features no regular services, let alone a Ladies Sodality or Altar Society. Shikimi Farkash, the priest in residence, is 28 but looks considerably younger, except for his silver hair and eyes. Taki Juhas is his indentured servant, pledged to be Shikimi’s maid/helper/dogsbody because his large family (10 children—OK, that’s Catholic) owes a debt to the church. At first, Taki’s duties seem to be limited to cleaning and pouring tea, but when darkness falls, Shikimi brings him out to the graveyard for a little plot exposition. It seems that the dead in these areas have been rising from their graves, and if left alone they will devour the living. Shikimi and Taki must prevent this by decapitating them as they rise. And there’s more, of course. Shikimi’s silver hair and eyes are signs that he is gradually turning into a demon. Someday, he says, Taki must kill him.

This is not one of those books that leaves you wondering what is going on. Shikimi explains everything pretty much as it happens—why the dead are rising, what part he has in it, why the stray puppy that shows up in chapter 2 keeps biting Taki. I like this sort of straightforward exposition, but the story is so well defined that by the end of volume 1 I was wondering what else is left to tell. It’s not that I don’t have questions: Why is Shinkimi turning into a demon? Is there a way to stop it? Taki asks these questions but doesn’t pursue them. Instead, the events unfold in a linear fashion, one following logically from the next. So far, there haven’t been any surprises.

Naturally, the priest getup and the fact that the main characters are both smooth-faced young men raises suggest that this book might have a BL component, but the characters don’t really seem to connect. Shikimi definitely has the upper hand, and he has fun ordering Taki around and teaching him various lessons. Taki spends a lot of time wondering about Shikimi and pledges his loyalty to him pretty early, but I didn’t sense much chemistry. Lack of affect is part of this: Shikimi always seems to have a cheery smile, even when he is explaining about the undead, which takes away somewhat from the gravity of the scene. That’s actually a plot point, but it’s an unfortunate choice as it makes him hard to warm up to.

The book ends with a separate story, a charming little tale of a king who looks like a little kid. There are no surprises, but it’s a fun read. Unfortunately, it means that we get only 135 pages of the main story, which may be another reason why the characters don’t seem to have developed much.

Like the story, Maeda’s art is straightforward. Although rotting corpses do rise from their graves, and there is a fair amount of swordplay and bloodletting, the art isn’t particularly gruesome. It’s really more cozy than scary. Maeda’s backgrounds are simple, just screentones or patterns, which is a shame, as more detail could have helped set the mood.

This being a Go!Comi book, the production is excellent, with an attractive, sharply printed cover and extras in the back—author’s notes and an article about the Japanese equivalent of the Ouija board. The paper is decent enough to hold the large areas of solid black pretty well.

Black Sun Silver Moon won’t change your life, but it’s an enjoyable, undemanding read with more humor than horror.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy supplied by the publisher.)