International Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga: The Influence of Girl Culture [1° ed.] 1138809489, 9781138809482

Table of contents :
International Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga
Contents
List of Figures and Table
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part I Local Perspectives of Shojo and Shojo Manga Historical€Components
1 Power of Shojo Manga
2 Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance
3 Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box All the Girls Want
4 The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past
5 Autism and Manga
6 Queer Readings of BL
Part II Global Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga New Approaches
7 Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia
8 Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man
9 Miyazaki’s View of Shojo
10 Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful
11 Revisiting Manga High
Part III
12 Profile and Interview with Fusanosuke Natsume
13 Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada
14 Profile and Interview with Masako€Watanabe
15 Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto
16 Profile and Interview with Hideko€Mizuno
17 Profile and Interview with Miyako€Maki
18 Profile and Interview with Machiko€Satonaka
19 Profile and Interview with Yukari€Ichijo
20 Profile and Interview with Suzue€Miuchi
21 Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya
22 Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio
23 Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi
24 Profile and Interview with Shio Sato
25 Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano
Contributors
Glossary
Index

Citation preview

International Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga

This collaborative book explores the artistic and aesthetic development of shojo, or girl, manga and discusses the significance of both shojo manga and the concept of shojo, or girl culture. It features contributions from manga critics, educators, and researchers from both manga’s home country of Japan and abroad, looking at shojo and shojo manga’s influence both locally and globally. Finally, it presents original interviews of shojo mangaka, or artists, who discuss their work and their views on this distinct type of popular visual culture. Masami Toku is a Japanese scholar and professor of art education at California State University Chico, and is director of the Shojo Manga! ­ Girls’ Power! Project. She has nearly 100 publishing credits in English and ­Japanese, and has given talks in more than 15 countries in Asia, Europe, North America, and South America.

Routledge Research in Cultural and Media Studies

  1 Sport Beyond Television The Internet, Digital Media and the Rise of Networked Media Sport Brett Hutchins and David Rowe   2 Cultural Technologies The Shaping of Culture in Media and Society Edited by Göran Bolin   3 Violence and the Pornographic Imaginary The Politics of Sex, Gender, and Aggression in Hardcore Pornography Natalie Purcell

  8 De-convergence in Global Media Industries Dal Yong Jin   9 Performing Memory in Art and Popular Culture Edited by Liedeke Plate and Anneke Smelik 10 Reading Beyond the Book The Social Practices of Contemporary Literary Culture Danielle Fuller and DeNel Rehberg Sedo 11 A Social History of Contemporary Democratic Media Jesse Drew

  4 Ambiguities of Activism Alter-Globalism and the Imperatives of Speed Ingrid M. Hoofd

12 Digital Media Sport Technology, Power and Culture in the Network Society Edited by Brett Hutchins and David Rowe

  5 Generation X Goes Global Mapping a Youth Culture in Motion Christine Henseler

13 Barthes’ Mythologies Today Readings of Contemporary Culture Edited by Pete Bennett and Julian McDougall

  6 Forensic Science in Contemporary American Popular Culture Gender, Crime, and Science Lindsay Steenberg

14 Beauty, Violence, Representation Edited by Lisa A. Dickson and Maryna Romanets

  7 Moral Panics, Social Fears, and the Media Historical Perspectives Edited by Siân Nicholas and Tom O’Malley

15 Public Media Management for the Twenty-First Century Creativity, Innovation, and Interaction Edited by Michał Głowacki and Lizzie Jackson

16 Transnational Horror Across Visual Media Fragmented Bodies Edited by Dana Och and Kirsten Strayer 17 International Perspectives on Chicana/o Studies “This World is My Place” Edited by Catherine Leen and Niamh Thornton 18 Comics and the Senses A Multisensory Approach to Comics and Graphic Novels Ian Hague 19 Popular Culture in Africa The Episteme of the Everyday Edited by Stephanie Newell and Onookome Okome 20 Transgender Experience Place, Ethnicity, and Visibility Edited by Chantal Zabus and David Coad 21 Radio’s Digital Dilemma Broadcasting in the Twenty-First Century John Nathan Anderson 22 Documentary’s Awkward Turn Cringe Comedy and Media Spectatorship Jason Middleton 23 Serialization in Popular Culture Edited by Rob Allen and Thijs van den Berg 24 Gender and Humor Interdisciplinary and International Perspectives Edited by Delia Chiaro and Raffaella Baccolini

25 Studies of Video Practices Video at Work Edited by Mathias Broth, Eric Laurier, and Lorenza Mondada 26 The Memory of Sound Preserving the Sonic Past Seán Street 27 American Representations of Post-Communism Television, Travel Sites, and Post-Cold War Narratives Andaluna Borcila 28 Media and the Ecological Crisis Edited by Richard Maxwell, Jon Raundalen, and Nina Lager Vestberg 29 Representing Multiculturalism in Comics and Graphic Novels Edited by Carolene Ayaka and Ian Hague 30 Media Independence Working with Freedom or Working for Free? Edited by James Bennett and Niki Strange 31 Neuroscience and Media New Understandings and Representations Edited by Michael Grabowski 32 American Media and the Memory of World War II Debra Ramsay 33 International Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga The Influence of Girl Culture Edited by Masami Toku

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International Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga The Influence of Girl Culture

Edited by Masami Toku

First published 2015 by Routledge 711 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10017 and by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2015 Taylor & Francis The right of the editor to be identified as the author of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data International perspectives on shojo and shojo manga : the influence of girl culture / Edited by Masami Toku. pages cm. — (Routledge research in cultural and media studies ; 72) Includes bibliographical references and index. 1. Comic books, strips, etc.—Japan—History and criticism. 2. Girls in popular culture. 3. Girls—Books and reading. 4. Authors, Japanese—20th century—Interviews. I. Toku, Masami, 1958- editor. PN6714.I58 2015 741.5’952—dc23 2015016894 ISBN: 978-1-138-80948-2 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-315-74997-6 (ebk) Typeset in Sabon by codeMantra

To YOU: girls, those who used to be girls, and those who have felt girls’ power

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Contents

List of Figures and Table Acknowledgments Introduction: The Power of Shojo and Shojo Manga

xiii xvii 1

M A SA M I TO K U

PART I Local Perspectives of Shojo and Shojo Manga: Historical Components   1 Power of Shojo Manga: Origins and Influences in Children’s Artistic and Aesthetic Development

9

M A SA M I TO K U

  2 Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance: What Is the Power of Shojo Manga?

23

N O Z O M I M A S UDA

 3 Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box All the Girls Want

32

Y U K A R I F U J I MOTO

  4 The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past: Sakura Momoko’s Chibimaruko-Chan

40

H I RO M I TS U C H IYA DO L L A SE

  5 Autism and Manga: Comics for Women, Disability, and Tobe Keiko’s With the Light

50

S H I G E ( C J ) S U ZUKI

  6 Queer Readings of BL: Are Women “Plunderers” of Gay Men? K A Z U M I N AG AIKE

64

x Contents

PART II Global Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga: New Approaches   7 Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia

77

C H E N G TJ U L IM

  8 Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man

87

F R E N C H Y L U NN IN G

  9 Miyazaki’s View of Shojo

101

M A RC H A I RS TO N

10 Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful: Explorations of the “Bishojo (Beautiful Girl)” and “Bishonen (Beautiful Boy)” in Taiwan’s Anime/Manga Fan Culture

109

J I N - S H I OW C HE N

11 Revisiting Manga High: Literacies, Identities, and the Power of Shojo Manga on New York City Youths

120

M I C H A E L B I TZ

PART III Shojo Mangaka Profiles and Interviews with Manga Critics and Shojo Mangaka (Girls’ Comic Artists) 12 Profile and Interview with Fusanosuke Natsume

133

13 Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada

137

14 Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe

144

15 Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto

152

16 Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno

160

17 Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki

168

18 Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka

175

19 Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo

182

20 Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi

190

21 Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya

197

Contents  xi 22 Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio

205

23 Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi

213

24 Profile and Interview with Shio Sato

220

25 Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano

226

Contributors Glossary Index

233 239 243

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List of Figures and Table

FIGURES   1.1   1.2   1.3   1.4   1.5   1.6   1.7   2.1   3.1   4.1

  5.1   5.2   5.3   5.4   6.1   6.2   7.1   7.2   8.1

Watanabe’s artwork from Rosalindo.13 Tadpole Man (2 years, 11 months old). 15 Pikachu fighting (6 years old). 16 Three dragons (7 years old). 18 Fighting Worm World (7–9 years old). 18 Penguin series (11 years, 5 months old). 19 Robotic arm (11 and a half years old). 20 The front-cover image for the exhibition catalogue for “Girl Speak,” Janet Turner Print Museum, California State ­University Chico (2013). 25 A photo of Billboard with Sailor Moon taken by Masami Toku at Shibuya station, Tokyo, Japan (August 2, 2014). 32 Sakura Momoko, Chibimaruko-chan vol. 5. © Momoko Sakura “Usually, around 7pm we all gather in the room where the TV is. … It’s a ‘gathering,’ but we do nothing special there. We eat and drink as usual.” 42 Cover of for Mrs. (April, 2008). 52 The protagonist’s mother-in-law falsely criticizes her. 57 The use of images and words to communicate with Hikaru. 59 The last page of With the Light (published in draft form). 60 “Furareta otoko wa ikaga desuka?” ©Tateno Makoto/Libre Publishing, 2010. 70 “Nakuna koibito” © Umetaro/Libre Publishing, 2010. 71 “Journey to East Java”. 81 “Bloemen Blij, Plukken Wij” (title of a Dutch children song). 84 Merchandise representing various kawaii (cute) shojo cultural subjects: shojo manga heroines, bishonen (“beautiful boys”), geisha, Takarazuka idols, Betty Boop,

xiv  List of Figures and Table

  8.2

8.3 8.4

11.1 11.2 11.3 11.4 12.1 13.1 14.1 15.1 16.1 17.1 18.1 19.1

“Kewpie” dolls, and “Hello Kitty” all mixed together, and found in many small arcade shops in Japanese cities. This is a shop in the Sanjo Arcade, Kyoto in 2008. Photography by author. 88 Hou I-Ting, “Usurper No.1” Usurper Series, C-print / 135x98 cm / 2004~2005), Taipei, Taiwan. As the artist ­ herself states: “Inside and outside the screen are two subjects both called “I” [who] collaborated in one scene. The inside and outside subjects and inner and outer interfaces are so close that they could almost touch each other. Two different worlds coexist in one work: one is outside the mirror and one is inside the mirror. The mirror symbolizes a kind of interface, a computer screen and a channel that leads to real or unreal worlds. [In] [t]his work both the main subject and the other imply [that] the changing under this circumstance is unrestrained.” 90 The book cover of “Picture Story of Tragic Love: Wedding Dress of Tears,” story by Mari Ogawa, illustrations by Makoto Takahashi. 96 Tomoko Taniguchi, Princess Prince (CPM Manga, 2002). ­Taniguchi, a shojo mangaka, here illustrates the coded t­ rappings of the feminine framed by Victorian costumes, positions, and sentiment. Courtesy of Tomoko Taniguchi. 97 Student manga from MLKHS. 124 Sketchbook excerpt from Samantha. 125 African-American samurai from Reggie. 126 Comic book excerpt from Keith. 127 The front cover of “Why Is Manga So Interesting?” (1997).133 A poster of exhibition of “Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju and the artist Haruko Kumoda” (2014). 137 Kinpeibai (The Plum in the Golden Vase), 1995–present ©Masako Watanabe. 144 Aoi Hanabira (Blue Petals), 1958 Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto.152 Honey Honey no Sutekina Boken (Honey Honey’s Wonderful Adventure), 1968 ©Hideko Mizuno. 160 Akujyo Bible (Wicked Woman’s Bible), 1984–1995 ©Miyako Maki. 168 Kojiki (Record of Ancient Matters), 2013 ©Machiko Satonaka. 175 Sutekina Otokono Tsukurikata (How to Make a Delicious Man), 1988 ©Yukari Ichijo. 182

List of Figures and Table  xv 20.1 Amaterasu, 1986–present ©Suzue Miuchi. 21.1 Kaze to Ki no Uta (Poem of Wind and Trees), 1976–1984 ©Keiko Takemiya. 22.1 Toma no Shinzo (Thomas’ Heart), 1974 ©Moto Hagio, Shogakukan. 23.1 Tennen Kokekko (A Gentle Breeze in the Village), 1994–2000 ©Fusako Kuramochi. 24.1 One Zero, 1984–1986 ©Shio Sato. 25.1 Onmyoji vol.7, 1997 ©Reiko Okano.

190 197 205 213 220 226

TABLE 6.1

Self-identified gay characters in Magazine BE-BOY from 2004–2011.

71

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Acknowledgments

ARIGATO to All A big thank you to all contributors and shojo mangaka who have participated in this project, and to my friends, colleagues, and collaborators who have been supporting this big project mentally, physically, and intellectually. Finally, I would like to thank my dearest family, Jon and Theo Aull who are always there to help me spiritually with warm hearts and love. It is impossible to express my thanks with words. Without all your help, this project could not have happened.

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Introduction The Power of Shojo and Shojo Manga Masami Toku

It has been over three decades since Frederick Schodt wrote Manga! Manga!: The World of Japanese Comics (1983), the first American book about manga (Japanese comics), and introduced US audiences to this world. Schodt m ­ entioned later that no one in the US was interested in Japanese manga or understood its value in those days, but he was eager to publish the book because he felt a strong motivation to share his enthusiasm for the influential power of manga with US audiences (personal conversation in November 2005 at the shojo manga symposium in Chico, California). The situation has changed over the last three decades. Schodt’s book has become a bible for people interested in Japanese visual-pop culture, not only scholars but fans as well. Since then, there have been many publications on the topic of manga and anime, reflecting the increasing popularity of ­Japanese pop culture (e.g., Schodt, 1996, 2007). Looking beyond the manga that get the most critical and public attention, we find that the smaller genre of shojo manga (girls’ comics) has been getting attention as a significant and unique aspect of Japanese manga, and recently published titles have begun to focus on shojo manga (e.g., Prough, 2011; Shamoon, 2012). I am very pleased to introduce this book as one of the few collections that addresses the topic of shojo manga. This book is different from its ­predecessors and is significant owing to the quality and range of contributors from all over the world who use shojo manga as a lens through which to conduct their research in psychology, sociology, cultural studies, and pedagogy. More importantly, this is not just about shojo manga; it is also about a new concept of shojo (girls) and shojo manga that is influencing culture and expanding to other fields. When I asked Moto Hagio, the mother of modern shojo manga, in August 2013 what she considered the most important contribution of the shojo manga world, she stated that it was the discovery of a new concept of shojo (girls). This book provides an overview of the artistic and aesthetic development and other characteristics of shojo manga, and discusses shojo manga’s power and influence. It also includes current debates on the new concept of shojo and how shojo manga influences the minds of youths as they develop their aesthetics based on local and global perspectives.

2  Masami Toku The contributors are all distinguished researchers—editors, educators, critics, and curators—related to the field of Japanese pop culture. I selected the contributors from the many whom I have met in person through world-­touring exhibitions of shojo manga and visual culture-related conferences, and I have strong confidence in the value of their research and their knowledge of manga. Furthermore, this book includes great interviews with actual shojo manga artists who contributed to the development of shojo manga in Japan. Through these interviews, which were conducted from 2007 to 2014, readers will hear the actual voices of the authors of shojo manga: they describe how they became artists, their motivations, the role of artists, and what the future holds for them. This is an extraordinary opportunity to hear their direct voices. BRIEF INTRODUCTION OF THE CONTENTS This collaborative book is made up of two parts: (1) selected articles on manga with local perspectives in Japan and global perspectives worldwide, and (2) a collection of profiles and interviews with shojo manga artists in Japan. The first part consists of 11 articles related to the themes of shojo and shojo manga, contributed by specialists, including critics, educators, and scholars, as insiders/outsiders of Japanese visual-pop culture.

Chapter 1: Power of Shojo Manga: Origins and Influences in Children’s Artistic and Aesthetic Development In this first chapter, the book’s editor, Toku, introduces the characteristics of Japanese children’s pictorial worlds, including visual composition (space) and expressions (figures), that seldom appear in the drawings of children from other cultures. What are the characteristics of Japanese children’s drawings, the relationship between their drawings and manga, and the ­gender differences between boys’ and girls’ drawings? Shojo manga’s influence on children’s ­aesthetic development and the active role of shojo manga in children’s ­aesthetic judgment in their pictorial world are also discussed in this chapter.

Chapter 2: Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance: What Is the Power of Shojo Manga? It is said that the word “kawaii” (“cute”) became popular in East Asia and worldwide through manga, anime, and related character goods. Kawaii items are ubiquitous in Japan and loved by all generations and genders. We cannot discuss the concept of kawaii culture in Japan without discussing the contribution of shojo manga. Shojo manga is a key medium for reaching girls of all ages. Manga magazines developed to attract different audiences based on age and gender. In this chapter, Masuda discusses the mutual ­relationship between the shojo manga artists and the readers and their influence on each other since the birth of shojo manga magazines.

Introduction  3

Chapter 3: Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box All the Girls Want Sailor-Moon! is one of the better-known shojo manga in the world. Known in Japan as Pretty Soldier Sailormoon, it is a Japanese manga series written and illustrated by Naoko Takeuchi, and features a team of magical girls. In this chapter, Fujimoto analyzes the value of the Sailor-Moon phenomenon as a manga that has satisfied young female appetites and desires in a changing Japanese society. This is an updated paper, based on one that was quoted in Anne Allison’s book Millennial Monsters in 2006; however, this is the first full English translation. Additional elements were added for this book, including an interview with Kunihiko Ikuhara, whose most famous work with the Toei Animation Company was on the anime version of Sailor-Moon.

Chapter 4: The Cute Little Girl living in the Imagined Japanese Past: Sakura Momoko’s Chibimaruko-chan In this chapter, Tsuchiya-Dollase discusses one of shojo manga’s most popular characters, Sakura Momoko’s Chibimaruko-chan, a manga series that was published in Ribbon between 1986 and 1996. The manga revolves around a third grader nicknamed “Chibimaruko” (“small round girl”) in a middle-class neighborhood in Shizuoka in the 1970s. The manga was an instant success and received the thirteenth Kodansha Manga Award (Shojo manga section) in 1989. The world of this story provided the modern young female readership with empowerment as well as a sense of belonging that many of them felt they had not wholly achieved in actual social reality.

Chapter 5: Autism and Manga: Comics for Women, Disability, and Tobe Keiko’s With the Light Suzuki investigates the social and cultural function of comics (manga) in contemporary Japan with a case study of Japanese female cartoonist Tobe Keiko’s women’s manga (josei manga), With the Light: Raising an ­Autistic Child (Hikari to tomoni). Serialized in a comics magazine for women, Tobe’s manga chronicles the life of a mother and her parenting struggles in ­raising an autistic child. Through the perspective of the mother protagonist, Tobe’s manga tackles the difficult and complex issue of autism through the medium of comics, revealing how society (mis)treats and alienates children with autism and their families.

Chapter 6: Queer Readings of BL: Are Women “Plunderers” of Gay Men? In this chapter, Nagaike attempts to create a synthesized view of the (in) validity of representations of the characters in boys’ love narratives by engaging in textual analysis as well as examining data attained through interviewing gay readers and BL publishers. In order to contextualize this

4  Masami Toku analysis, there is substantial discussion of alterity theories (mainly derived from queer and postcolonial theories) as they intersect identity construction for (supposedly) minority groups, showing the possibility that these theoretical perspectives provide a new way of positive “queer” reading of BL narratives for gay readers.

Chapter 7: Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia Research on American female comic writers and artists was pioneered by Trina Robbins and John Lent. Lent has also written about women artists in other parts of the world. Japanese researchers such as Fusami Ogi and ­Fujimoto Yukari have also written about shojo manga artists. But i­ nformation about female artists in Southeast Asia is scant. In this chapter Lim attempts to fill this gap by looking at the political and personal themes found in the comics of female artists in Southeast Asia.

Chapter 8: Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man The shojo kyara—an essentialized icon of the shojo (girl) character—has an instant appeal in her multitudinous manifestations as manga, anime, and merchandise; her form is ubiquitous; and her global recognition is immediate. She defies all specificity, with one key exception: her entire index of traits is specific to the young female, and that is precisely where her power and potency lie. The shojo, though denigrated as childish and cloyingly feminine, also wields the significant power of the kyara in her capacity as a truly transnational, transgendered cultural symbol and aesthetic commodity.

Chapter 9: Miyazaki’s View of Shojo Shojo characters are a staple of anime and manga, covering a wide range of archetypes from the magical girl to the romantic ideal girl and more. But the shojo characters in the films of Hayao Miyazaki stand out as unique in the world of anime. Miyazaki imbues his characters with a greater depth of expression and a more realistic presentation that prevents them from falling into any of the common anime stereotypes. In this chapter, Hairston divides the female heroes in his films into three groups: (1) very young girls, (2) prepubescent girls, and (3) older teenaged girls. This chapter provides an introduction to these unique characters and discusses how Miyazaki perceives the shojo roles in film.

Chapter 10: Beautiful, Meaningful and Powerful: Explorations of the “Bishojo (Beautiful Girl)” and “Bishonen (Beautiful Boy)” in Taiwan’s Anime/Manga Fan Culture The “beautiful” anime/manga images of bishojo and bishonen, set in J­ apanese culture, constitute a unique language with an organization of visual patterns, forms, and styles, a semantic system, and meanings of power within the culture

Introduction  5 of anime/manga fandom. In Taiwan, a prominent anime/manga fan culture has developed, marked by annual high-profile conventions where fans sell their amateur fan comics. In this chapter, Chen emphasizes that art ­educators should learn to appreciate the effort and enthusiasm of students who master anime/manga and incorporate that skill into art classes. In this way, we can encourage students to learn and possibly even create saleable products.

Chapter 11: Revisiting Manga High: Literacies, Identities, and the Power of Shojo Manga on New York City Youths In this chapter, Bitz examines the role of manga (including boys’ and girls’ manga) in the lives of youths living in New York City. Manga is a powerful force for these teenagers. Although these youths do not have any Japanese people in their school or neighborhoods and have certainly never been to Japan, their passion for manga is extraordinary. This is especially fascinating in light of the fact that all of these students are struggling in school. Yet they pursue reading, writing, and literature in their own time and on their own terms. Despite poverty, hardships at home, and dysfunctional schools, the group eventually developed into a full-scale manga production team, producing works in print and online for a small but dedicated readership. The chapter highlights the lives and works of these young people and the gender differences that appear in their works.

Chapter 13 to 25: Profiles and Interviews The second part of the book contains 14 interviews; the interviews are with the world-renowned manga critic Fusanosuke Natsume, shojo manga critic and curator Tomoko Yamada, and 12 well-known shojo mangaka (graphic novelists) from Japan who contributed to the development of the shojo manga world. Since 2000, I have been interviewing artists, curators, editors, and writers in the visual cultural world in Japan and the US to understand the worldwide phenomenon of manga in the lives of ­children and youths. Most of the interviews published here were conducted by Tomoko Yamada in 2007 in conjunction with the touring exhibition of Shojo Manga! Girls’ Power! (2008–2009), along with recent interviews conducted by me in 2013 and 2014. In addition, each artist’s profile and artworks are featured along with their interviews. This part of the book addresses the role of gender as it appears throughout shojo manga as a mirror of girls’ desires and expectations in life as well as the artists’ active roles in society through shojo manga. This book is a one-stop resource for everyone who wants to learn more about shojo manga as a specific theme and about manga in general, as well as for anyone teaching a course on the subject. REFERENCES Prough, J. S. (2011). Straight from the Heart: Gender, Intimacy, and the Cultural Production of Shōjo Manga. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

6  Masami Toku Schodt, F. L. (1983) Manga! Manga! The World of Japanese Comics. New York: Kodansha America. Schodt, F. L. (1996) Dreamland Japan: Writings on Modern Manga. Berkeley, CA: Stone Bridge Press. Schodt, F. L. (2007). The Astro Boy Essays: Osamu Tezuka, Mighty Atom, and the Manga/Anime Revolution. Berkeley, CA: Stone Bridge Press. Shamoon, D. M. (2012). Passionate Friendship: The Aesthetics of Girls’ Culture in Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press.

Part I

Local Perspectives of Shojo and Shojo Manga Historical Components

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1 Power of Shojo Manga Origins and Influences in Children’s Artistic and Aesthetic Development Masami Toku

Children tend to draw what they know rather than what they see (Goodnow, 1977)

INTRODUCTION Through research and cross-cultural analysis of children’s artistic and aesthetic development in 1998, I discovered that characteristics of Japanese children’s pictorial worlds (first through sixth graders), such as visual compositions (space) and expressions (figures), ­seldom appeared in the drawings of children from other cultures. What was the reason for this impact on Japanese children’s drawings? It seems likely that manga (Japanese comics) and anime (animation) were prime influences, since the aesthetics of those media were reflected in the children’s images. Interestingly, the influences have started to appear in other children’s work, for example, in that of US children, since anime and manga have gained world popularity. Since then I have been observing the phenomenon of the power of Japanese visual pop culture, its characteristics, and the influence on children’s minds and society. In this chapter, I’d like to discuss three topics: (1) the relationship between universal tendency and sociocultural influences that appear in children’s drawings; (2) the influences of manga on children’s aesthetics; and (3) the significance of shojo manga (girls’ comics) as one of the major genres of manga. UNIVERSALITY VERSUS CULTURAL SPECIFICITY IN CHILDREN’S ARTISTIC AND AESTHETIC DEVELOPMENT In the 1980s, more art educators began to question the stage theory of ­universality and universal tendency in children’s artistic development put forth by, for example, Arnheim (1969), Gardner (1980), Kellogg (1969), Lowenfeld and Brittain (1970), Piaget and Inhelder (1956), and Read (1974). The multiculturalism movement was gathering steam, and art educators began to argue the importance of cultural and social impacts on children’s artistic tendencies, an influence that they called cultural specificity (Toku, 1998). Although

10  Masami Toku c­ hildren’s drawings in their early stages indicate a universal pattern in artistic development, their drawings also show another important characteristic: the influence of culture and society. Thus, the universal tendency of artistic development is generally limited to the early years, from toddler to about five or six years of age, before cultural and educational influences strongly appear. Children have a tendency to be influenced by their cultures and societies, and the influences start to emerge in their drawings as characteristic patterns (see, for example, Alland, 1983; Duncum, 2010; Golomb, 1992; Kindler & ­Darras, 1997; Toku, 2001b; Wilson & Wilson, 1982). The influence of culture and technology emerges strongly in children’s drawings, especially in elementary school, leading them to produce new and different characteristics in their drawing patterns, depending on the cultural and social contexts. Questions remain about the relationship between universality and ­cultural specificity in the study of artistic development. First, what kinds of universal patterns do exist in children’s drawings regardless of sociocultural contexts? Second, if the developmental pattern in children’s drawings is ­different depending on the particular culture and society, what do the ­differences reveal and how are they revealed? In response to these questions, I conducted cross-cultural research of children’s artistic development from 1995 to 1997 by collecting about ­ 3,000 drawings (2,000 from Japan and 1,000 from the US) from elementary ­students (first to sixth grades). I requested that the children draw the theme of “Me and My Friends Playing in the Schoolyard.” Using Elliot Eisner’s 14 spatial categories (1967), I compared and statistically analyzed the development of spatial patterns in their drawings. The study found significant differences between those two cultures. Although more than 95% of US children’s drawings still fit into Eisner’s 14 categories, Japanese children’s drawings did not (at that time in 1998). For example, more than 40% of Japanese sixthgrade students did not fit into any category. I analyzed those uncategorized drawings and found at least three characteristic patterns: (1) exaggerated view, (2) photographic view, and (3) multiperspective view. The exaggerated view is to draw an enlargement of parts of the body, such as hands or legs, even omitting the head or face. The photographic view looks as if it were taken with a camera, so that part of the body is extrapolated past the edge of the paper. The multiperspective view (including bird’s eye view) is a drawing from multiple perspectives, not a single point of view (Toku, 1998, 2001b). In addition to the spatial treatment style that appeared in Japanese ­children’s drawings, significant differences were found between boys’ and girls’ drawings of the subject itself. For the research, I requested clearly and simply that the children draw a scene showing them playing in their schoolyard to discover what kind of play they were doing and how they re-created three-dimensional space on the two-dimensional surface of the drawing paper. Almost all the boys drew an active playing scene; some of the girls did not, instead drawing more psychological scenes such as “looking at cherry blossoms” and “broken glass and scolding by a teacher.” Most boys portrayed direct scenes of playing

Power of Shojo Manga  11 by themselves or with their friends, but some girls drew indirect playing scenes showing behind-the-story scenes of before or after playing. In response to my requested theme of “Me and My Friends Playing in the Schoolyard,” some students asked me if they should follow the ­academic way of drawing in a realistic manner or if they could draw whatever they liked. (I told them to do whatever they liked.) From their questions, I came to understand that Japanese children used two different styles of drawing d ­ epending on the situation: one a realistic manner for drawing in the classroom, and the other a manga style that was not accepted in schools at the time of the research in 1995–1997. In 1998, the Ministry of Education and Science in Japan decided to adopt Japanese visual-pop culture in the national art e­ducation curriculum; as a result, manga finally became accepted as an art e­ ducation subject in theory and practice. Manga curricula in art education have been taught in national textbooks officially since 2002 (Toku, 2001a). However, at the time the drawings were collected from four elementary schools from northern to southern areas of Japan, drawing in the manga style was not appreciated in the art education classroom. Manga style, such as exaggerated views, out-of-proportion figures, and cartoon-like images in distorted spaces, was not accepted in public schools. Nevertheless, outside the classroom in their own worlds, children never stopped mimicking manga’s characters in the manga style they loved. Goodnow’s famous words are that children tend to draw what they know rather than what they see (1977), but I’d like to affirm that children tend to draw what they like more than what they see and know. After examining other possibilities, manga remained the most likely potential influence in the visual world. What made the Japanese children draw in such specific manga styles? In other words, why did they like the manga style so much? More importantly, why weren’t American children’s drawings influenced by their own American comics? Are there any ­significant differences between manga and other comic styles? MANGA’S INFLUENCES ON YOUTH’S MINDS AND SOCIETY One characteristic of manga is its diversification over the last 60 years, based on gender, into boys’ and girls’ manga. I questioned whether the s­tylistic ­differences in boys’ and girls’ manga really influenced each gender d ­ ifferently or whether it depended on the subject matter.

Boys’ versus Girls’ Manga: Characteristics that Appear in Children’s and Adolescents’ Pictorial Worlds Manga developed uniquely in Japan after World War II as entertainment for children. It eventually diversified to please various audiences of different ages, genders, and favorite themes. One of the major characteristics of

12  Masami Toku manga is its split into boys’ (shonen) and girls’ (shojo) manga. Each has developed in its own way in response to readers’ expectations, and each has its own themes. Generally speaking, regardless of the subject, the main theme in shonen manga is competitive fighting, how the heroes become men by protecting women, family, country, or the earth from enemies. Shojo manga, on the other hand, was highly influenced by shojo zassi’s (girls’ magazines’) visual images of beautiful girls with big eyes and slender bodies with narrow arms and legs (Masuda, 2008). As a result, the semiotic signs of beauty in shojo manga developed uniquely, including just a dot for a nose, a tiny mouth, and big eyes with stars in them. These ­characteristics appear strongly in almost all Japanese girls’ drawings as their favorite ­drawing styles, and it was very recognizable in the Japanese girls’ drawings in the study. Unlike boys’ manga, the theme of girls’ manga is simply love, but “Love” in all its complexity.

Manga Literacy: Semiotic and Semantic Signs in Shojo and Shonen Manga Regarding the visual images, the visual grammar of Japanese manga is also highly developed, with semiotic signs and semantic usage of composition diverging after the 1960s into boys and girls manga. The influence of ­American comics (especially Disney) on Japanese manga dates back to the end of World War II. Ironically, the advanced visual grammar seen in Japanese comics seldom appears in American comics nowadays and seldom develops in any other comics around the world. What are the semiotic signs and semantic usages of composition in manga? Why and how did they develop differently from that of any other comic style? According to Natsume (1997, 1999), comics are composed of three ­elements: pictures, words (with or without bubbles), and frames (panels). Pictures are the images of figures and the backgrounds. Words appear in the picture and independently outside of the frame with or without balloons, representing internal thoughts or external speech. Frame is simply a container that includes the picture and the words, but often integrates time and space as a kind of metacognition in manga. The limitation of manga’s medium encouraged the artists to devise new methods in their creations. Manga is a very cheap format, originally targeting children who did not have much money to spend to purchase the manga (e.g., a monthly magazine including 15 to 20 stories with 500 pages was around $5 in 2013 [Manga Zasshi, http://www.zasshi-data.com]). Manga had to be created in a cheap format in black and white except for cover pages in full color. Unlike the full-color American comics that can represent visual characteristics with colors, Japanese manga had to make do with black and white. The limitation on the usage of color forced the artists to invent a new manga literacy to represent visual images, depending on the situation (Yomota, 1994).

Power of Shojo Manga  13 The shapes of word bubbles, such as square, round, and spiky, can also r­ epresent the speakers’ emotions as external voices or internal thoughts surface (Otsuka, 1995). The usage of frames (panels) is developed in shojo manga. To describe the psychological complexity in diverse stories, the angle, size, and shapes of frames are displayed effectively on the two-­dimensional flat surface. The way diverse frames are used often effectively represent past, present, and future (Ito, 2005; Masuda, 2002; Natsume, 1997). For ­example, in Rosalindo, created by Watanabe in 1973, we can see complex visual signs in a scene where a woman is falling down. On the top right corner in a square is an enlarged woman’s face that represents a moment immediately before the tragedy happens. In the center without a frame, we can see the treacherous moment that the woman is killed. The usage of word bubbles is also unique here. The square shape of the bubbles indicates that these are the inner voices of the lady and the narration. More interestingly, the size of the square bubbles gets smaller from the top right diagonally to the left bottom of the page, which represents the passage of time and the direction of her fall. This usage of multiperspective views, the photographic view, and he exaggerated view were also seen in the Japanese children’s drawings of the study (Toku, 1998, 2001b).

Figure 1.1  Watanabe’s artwork from Rosalindo.

14  Masami Toku Thus manga, especially shojo manga, is full of semiotic and semantic signs (Iwashita, 2013). The mangaka (comic artists) and readers share the visual signs to understand the story within the limited manga environment without any colors. Natsume mentions that Japanese manga artists and readers have a highly developed manga literacy owing to the limitations of the medium. As a result, Japanese children can read manga quickly and understand the content of manga clearly and easily. Furthermore, Japanese children, regardless of gender, showed the semiotic signs of shojo manga in the 1998 study. A CASE STUDY OF CHILDREN’S ARTISTIC AND AESTHETIC DEVELOPMENT Many researchers, including myself, have recognized the cultural and social influences in children’s pictorial worlds. As the result of cross-cultural research in 1998, I concluded that one significant cultural phenomenon in Japanese children’s artistic and aesthetic development was visual-pop ­culture, especially manga in Japan. To take a closer look at children’s artistic and aesthetic development after the quantitative research on children’s drawings in 1998, I decided to do a follow-up case study by observing one child’s development starting in 2000. The goal of this case study was to see if he also followed the universal ­tendency regardless of his two different cultural backgrounds—Western and non-Western culture. The thing that I was most curious about was if and when the visual pop-cultural influences would appear in his drawings.

Universal Tendency in the Pictorial World The subject of my case study, Theo, was born in January 1998 in the US in the college town of Champaign, Illinois, the son of an American father ­(Caucasian) and a Japanese mother (Asian). Theo started to draw at the age of one, and until he was three, he followed the universal tendency of artistic development. For example, when he turned two, he progressed to the universal stage of “scribbling,” which Lowenfeld mentions all children reach regardless of cultural and social differences (1970). Everything was represented by Theo’s scribbling circles: flowers, the sun, mother, father, dog. Although they just look like circles to adults, to children they mean everything at this stage. Toward the end of his second year, Theo started to draw figurative images, what Lowenfeld calls “tadpole men.” Theo was clearly following the universal tendency. The characteristic of a tadpole man is a long oval-shaped body with no separation between the head and body. Arms and legs are directly drawn from the body. In Theo’s tadpole man, we can see that there are two arms horizontally extended left and right. There are also some vertical lines depicted from the arms. Theo knew that fingers were attached at the ends of arms, although he could not count how many. There are also two legs pointing

Power of Shojo Manga  15 directly downward from the body. Lines of hairs also point up from the top of the head. These are all typical characteristics of the universal “tadpole man.”

Figure 1.2  Tadpole Man (2 years, 11 months old).

However, Theo showed unique characteristics in drawing the face of the tadpole man. There are five small circles on the face from top to bottom— two dots, two small holes, and one wider oval shape—depicted on the face. We might assume that the top two dots were the eyebrows, the two small holes were the eyes, and the oval shape was the mouth. Theo asked me one day to show him how to draw a nose because it was very difficult for him. I told him to touch his nose. He said he felt “two holes.” I said, “Yes they are important holes for breathing.” From that point, he started drawing two holes to represent a nose. His lines were clear, strong, and confident, and the nose circles were beautifully drawn in the center of the face. At the age of three and a half years, Theo suddenly stopped drawing noses on faces although he had previously drawn two holes to represent the nose. According to Lowenfeld’s theory, it was a sign that he had regressed

16  Masami Toku to the previous stage, since he did not draw the nose that would exist on a ­realistic drawing of a face. Did he really regress? No, Theo purposely ­omitted the nose circles because he thought it was neither beautiful nor correct. It was against his aesthetic. I call his decision an “aesthetic omission.” Interestingly, the same characteristics appear in the images of girls in Japanese shojo manga (girls’ comics). In most cases, the noses on girls’ faces tend to be drawn as tiny, or they are completely omitted. The reason for this is the same as Theo’s. It is not easy to draw a beautiful nose. Until he found a solution in drawing a mirror image J (“し”) that he saw in his friend’s drawing at the age of four, he omitted the nose.

Appearance of Influences of Visual-Pop Culture in the Pictorial World What is the big difference between the era of Lowenfeld’s universality theorists of the1950s and the beginning of the 21st century? We are surrounded with a flood of visual images everywhere. Children are exposed to television, the Internet, and video games, and they are easily influenced by those media. Theo was no exception. He was first influenced by Japanese pop culture (J pop) icons such as Pikachu at the age of about four. It was a time when there was a lot of Japanese animation (or anime) on Saturday morning television. As did many children, Theo became obsessed with the images of pokemon (pocket monsters) and drew them over and over. He eventually started to create his own scenes. The cute pokemon appeared in a lot of fight scenes, a typical characteristic of boys’ drawing and shonen manga/anime.

Figure 1.3  Pikachu fighting (6 years old).

Power of Shojo Manga  17 Then he started to create his own battle world with his own characters of worms. It was a surreal world where weak worms fought in robotic machines, with stick men drawn in black and white with pencil. At six years of age, Theo drew his favorite activities and themes in notebooks. His notebooks were filled with many characters and activities. This may have been the result of playing with his peers in preschool and kindergarten. For example, he tried to draw his favorite martial art, K ­ ung-Fu; however, he realized that he did not know how to draw human figures well. Indeed, drawing human figures, especially with movement, is the most ­difficult thing for most children. After struggling for a while, he found a solution: he used fighting frogs (his favorite animal at that time) instead of human figures. Thus, he used cartoon images of frogs with sunbursts ­representing action. As children know how to solve problems when they face difficulty in drawing something, Theo also solved his difficulty in drawing the active human figures by using cartoon figures with semiotic signs. When Theo was six, he started visiting Japan every summer to go to public elementary school in Amami City for a month each year. In addition to the anime that he was exposed to in the US on television, he started to play Nintendo computer games and to read manga with his Japanese friends. He learned drawing techniques directly from manga, including ways of representing movement.

Coolness versus Cuteness in Drawings Dragons were also some of Theo’s favorite characters, as they are for many children. I made a very interesting finding in Theo’s drawings of dragons. He drew three different types of dragons at almost the same time. Why, I asked, did he draw the three different types? He responded to my question with confidence, “This is my favorite cool dragon,” and, “This is for you, Mom. You like cute ones, don’t you?” “How about this one? Looks great,” I asked about the third type. “I made it in class with a stencil that my teacher gave to everybody.” He knew that not all people liked the same type of dragons that he liked, so he decided to create different types in response to adult preferences. When I discovered his reasons for these three types of dragons, it reinforced for me as an art teacher that we should not show only one example, but more than one. Otherwise, some children will copy the exact same one that the teacher shows. When Theo turned seven (entering first grade), he started to create his own characters rather than mimicking his favorite characters from TV, comics, or toys. Worm World is one example of a theme that he explored for at least two years (from seven to nine years of age), and it greatly ­influenced other children in his class. Tiny worms became strong soldiers with w ­ eapons and robot vehicles (like “Gundam” or “Transformers”). Of course, they were fighting for someone (maybe family and friends) or something (to rescue the earth from enemies). Another characteristic appeared in his drawings

18  Masami Toku

Figure 1.4  Three dragons (7 years old).

around this time. He chose pencil rather than markers, color p ­ encils, or ­watercolors, although he had drawn with colors before then. Children in general ­(especially boys) commonly prefer pencil because it is easy to draw details, and coloring is not perceived as cool.

Figure 1.5  Fighting Worm World (7–9 years old).

Power of Shojo Manga  19 After his worm world phase, Theo became captivated by penguins. From the time he purchased a stuffed penguin at the Monterey Bay Aquarium, the penguin became more than just an animal to him, but more like a brother, since he was an only child. Each time he went somewhere, he collected stuffed penguins and even brought them with him on trips to Japan. At the same time, he started to draw a series of penguins in different situations and costumes that represented their roles and personalities. In the penguin’s face, he represented the difference between cute and realistic by emphasizing the size of the body and eyes (big eyes were cute and small eyes were realistic). He knew how to represent cuteness and coolness and even serious penguins in diverse styles. Where did he get the idea? This may be an example of the fact that the influence of shojo manga has spilled over into boys’ manga.

Figure 1.6  Penguin series (11 years, 5 months old).

20  Masami Toku At the end of his elementary school life (when he was eleven and a half years of age), Theo became interested in the details of mechanical objects as well as cute penguin styles. At that time, he built complicated models of transforming robots in Japan during his summer visit, and he was obsessed with drawing mechanical details and geometric lines with Sharpies. He still used only black pencils or black Sharpies. At this time (up to 12 years of age), he drew two different styles: cute comics figures and mechanical objects in detail. Seemingly, he was interested in realistic machinery but not ­realistic figures. Rather, he was creating comics objects. Up to age 12, he was a ­typical boy, and there are clearly manga (more than anime) influences in his drawings.

Figure 1.7  Robotic arm (11 and a half years old).

At around ages 13 to 14, Theo stopped drawing because of internal and external conflicts (Toku, 2011, 2014). As Read pointed out (1974), children tend to stop creating art around this age. With so many external attractions and interests as well as his internal value changes, Theo suddenly lost his motivation to draw, but fortunately his interest returned at 14 years of age when he enrolled in an art class and his teacher again encouraged him to create art. But at present his drawings are filled with more cool drawings of machines rather than with cute images. He is now 16 years old, and there is no way to predict how he will develop artistically. One can surely imagine, however, that his creativity will be consistently influenced by the media and visual images that surround him.

Power of Shojo Manga  21 Michael Bitz, founder of the Comic Book Project (2005), mentioned in his book, Manga High, that US high school students clearly stated their liking for manga, but not for American comics. In this afterschool program organized by Bitz in 1998 in New York, at-risk students were encouraged to create their own graphic novels to represent their own stories. For that project, most students mimicked manga styles. One reason was that they could not relate to American comic heroes, but manga’s characters shared their problems. Japanese manga have more suitable visual images and more personal stories that children and youths can identify with, as opposed to American comics with their stereotypical images of heroes and heroines (Bitz, 2009). The influences of shojo manga are apparent in the art of many children, from the Japanese schoolchildren of the 1998 study to Theo’s childhood drawings to the drawings of the New York City high school students of the Comic Book Project. Wilson (2003) pointed out that Japanese manga are “rhizomes”—lateral shoots that extend from multiple sources and sprout spontaneously to create different forms. If so, manga will continue to influence children’s minds in new ways and as a result will continue to appear in their pictorial worlds. In this way, pop culture influences are constantly reaching out in different directions, making connections, and sprouting in different ways in the manga of each culture and country. REFERENCES Alland, A. (1983). Playing with form: Children Draw in Six Cultures. New York: Columbia University Press. Arnheim, R. (1969). Visual Thinking. Berkeley: University of California Press. Bitz, M. (2009). Manga High: Literacy, Identity, and Coming of Age in an Urban High School. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press. Duncum, P. (2010). “Seven Principles for Visual Culture Education.” Art Education, 63(1): 6–10. Eisner, E. W. (1967). “A Comparison of Developmental Drawing Characteristics of Culturally Advantaged and Culturally Disadvantaged Children. Project No. 3086.” US Department of Health, Education, and Welfare, Office of Education, Bureau of Research, September 1967. Gardner, H. (1980). Artful Scribbles: The Significance of Children’s Drawings. New York: Basic Books. Golomb, C. (1992). The Child’s Creation of a Pictorial World. Berkeley: University of California Press. Goodnow, J. J. (1977). Children Drawing. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Ito, G. (2005). Tezuka Is Dead—Hirakareta Manga Hyogenron e (Tezuka is Dead. Postmodernist and Modernist Approaches to Japanese Manga). Tokyo: NTT Publishing. Iwashita, T. (2013). Shojo Manga no Hyogenkiko (Expression in Shojo Manga). Tokyo: NTT Publishing.

22  Masami Toku Kellogg, R. (1969). Analyzing Children’s Art. Palo Alto, CA: Mayfield. Kindler, A. M., and Darras, B. (1997). “Map of Artistic Development.” In A. M. Kindler (Ed), Child Development in Art (pp. 17–44). Reston, VA: National Art Education Association. Lowenfeld, V., and Brittain, W. L. (1970). Creative and Mental Growth (5th ed.). New York: Macmillan. Masuda, N. (2002). Kakusan suru Jiku—Koma kosei no Hensen karamiru 1990 nendai iko no Shojo Manga. In Manga Kenkyu (Manga Study), Volume 2, pp.  108–120. Tokyo: Nihon Manga Gakkai (Japan Society for Studies in ­Cartoons and Comics). Masuda, N. (2008). “Magazine Media and Shojo Manga: What Is the Power of Shojo Manga?” In an exhibition catalogue of Shojo Manga! Girl Power! (pp.  5–10). Kawasaki City Museum. Natsume, F (1997). Why Manga Are Fascinating? Their Visual Idioms and Grammar [Manga wa naze omoshiroi]. Tokyo: NHK Library. Natsume, F. (1999). “Manga ga suki [I Like Manga].” Magazine for Art Education, 49(8): 7–12. Tokyo: Biiku Bunka. Otsuka, E (1995). Sengo Manga no Hyogenkuukan—Kigoteki Shintai no Jyubaku (Spatial Expression in Manga after World War II). Kyoto: Hozokan. Piaget, J., and Inhelder, B. (1956). The Child’s Conception of Space. London: ­Routledge & Kegan Paul. Read, H. (1974). Education through Art. New York: Pantheon Books. Toku, M. (1998). Spatial Treatment in Children’s Drawings: Why Do Japanese ­Children Draw in Particular Ways? Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign. Toku, M. (2001a). “What Is Manga?: The Influence of Pop Culture in Adolescent Art.” Journal of the National Art Education Association (March), pp. 11–17. ­Reston, VA: National Art Education Association. Toku, M. (2001b). “Cross-Cultural Analysis of Artistic Development: Drawings of Japanese and U.S. Children.” Visual Arts Research, 27(1): 46–59. Toku, M. (2011). Visual Culture and Literacy: Art Appreciation from Multicultural Perspectives. Dubuque, IA: Kendall Hunt Publishing. Toku, M. (2014). Art, Teaching and Learning. Dubuque, IA: Kendall Hunt Publishing Wilson, B. (2003). “Of Diagrams and Rhizomes: Visual Culture, Contemporary Art and the Impossibility of Mapping the Content of Art Education.” Studies in Art Education, 44(3): 214–229. Wilson, B., and Wilson, M. (1982). Teaching Children to Draw: A Guide for Parents and Teachers. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall. Yomota, I. (1994). Manga Genron, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo.

2 Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance What is the Power of Shojo Manga? Nozomi Masuda

INTRODUCTION The Japanese word and concept of kawaii (“cute”) has become popular in East Asia and Europe as a result of manga and anime and related merchandise. Japan may be a unique country in that kawaii is everywhere in Japan and is loved by people of all ages and genders. This kawaii culture developed alongside shojo (girls’) culture, with shojo manga as the benefactor. Many shojo manga artists of the postwar baby boom generation made their debuts at the dawn of shojo manga from 1950 through the 1960s. After 1970, shojo manga (among various media that targeted girls) became very influential. Today, shojo manga is a medium that represents girls and young females. Shojo manga developed at a time when manga magazines began to target readers based on characteristics such as age and gender. This chapter discusses the relationship between shojo manga and its readers, as well as the genre’s influence and power, by examining the birth of the shojo manga magazine while considering the characteristics of its expression and the way of its acceptance. THE BIRTH OF SHOJO MAGAZINES The origin of shojo manga cannot be discussed without mentioning the shojo magazines that targeted girl readers. Shojo manga may not ever have developed if there had not been shojo magazines. The category of “shojo” (“girls”) was born through Japan’s modernization process. After the middle Meiji era (the end of the 19th century), a modern education system was developed that separated male and female students in middle and high schools. This division gave birth to the concept of the shojo. Beginning with Shojo-kai, published in Meiji 35 (1902) by Kinkodo, many shojo magazines for “jyogakusei” (female high school students) were published, one after another. The concepts of shojo, shojo imagery, shojo culture, and shojo-like things were gradually formed through shojo magazines and shared by many girl readers from the end of the Meiji (1868–1912) through the Taisho (1912– 1925) eras. The nuclei of the development of the shojo concept in girls’

24  Nozomi Masuda novels were the illustrations and lyric poems inserted in girls’ magazines, which included the readers’ own submitted work. The girls’ community through the shojo magazines has been called Shojo’s Illusionistic Community (Honda, 1990) and Otome Community (Kawamura, 1993). (The term Otome means “innocent young woman.”) The girls’ community started with the modern education system (with its separation based on gender), was developed by shojo magazines, and eventually crossed the border into reality (Otsuka, 1991a, p. 278).

ACCEPTANCE OF THE IMAGE OF THE GIRL WITH BIG EYES The influence of shojo zasshi (girls’ magazines) on later shojo manga has been discussed elsewhwere. Among the many artists who worked on shojo zasshi, the most important ones may be Yumeji Takehisa and Junichi ­Nakahara as lyrical painters. Yumeji was very successful in drawing cover pictures, frontispieces, and other illustrations within the stories in shojo zasshi from the end of the Meiji period (late 19th century). He depicted girls with big wet eyes and long eyelashes as opposed to the traditional hikime-kagibana concept of facial beauty of that originated in the Heian period (9th–11th centuries). With regard to Yumeji’s female images, Akira Uno, an illustrator, emphasized large eyes, thinness of the neck, and ­delicate bodylines. Uno mentioned that Yumeji’s style reflected his subjective feelings rather than an objective representation, and Yumeji drew psychologically distorted rather than precise sketches (Uno, 1986, p. 122). His focus on the “expression of feelings” is one of the characteristic expressions in girls’ comics. Later, Junichi Nakahara greatly developed the eyes of shojo manga characters. Takashi Yanase who served as the chief editor of Shi to Meruhen (Poetry and Fairytale) (Sanrio) for many years spoke of Junichi Nakahara’s influence on later girls’ comics. Because Nakahara played an active role as a doll creator when he was a teen, the big eyes depicted in the shojo zasshi looked like they belonged to French dolls, and they shone like glass. The early girls are slim, but although they are just as slim as Yumeji’s, they do look more like dolls than humans. That would become the model of the heroine in shojo manga (Yanase, 1986, p. 44). Junichi’s influence on later generations is apparent in Makoto Takahashi’s images of girls who are shown with a variety of different-sized stars in their eyes, and in Riyoko Ikeda’s manga, in particular The Rose of Versailles, which became a social phenomenon. Big eyes that occupy half of a girl’s face are still seen in all the girls’ comic magazines. Coming out of his background as an artist making French dolls with big eyes, Junichi started his career promoting Western girls as personifying the ideal for girls; this depiction was in line with Japanese readers’ admiration

Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance  25

Figure 2.1  The front-cover image for the exhibition catalogue of “Girl Speak,” Janet Turner Print Museum, California State University Chico (2013).

of Western culture and with the popularity of the Western movie star. In any event, it was important that a new standard of “beauty” with big eyes was shared among girls at this time. The big eyes depicted by Junichi may well be the origin of the “decame” (“big eyes”) preference of Japanese women since that time. As Uno mentioned when discussing symbolization and the encoding of the girl image with big eyes and small mouth, big eyes became a mirror of their desires to become beautiful heroines. For the acceptance of the girl image, it is very important for readers to self-identify and see themselves in this two-dimensional image (Uno, 1986).

26  Nozomi Masuda FROM SHOJO MAGAZINES TO SHOJO MANGA Shojo magazines before World War II (1945) consisted mainly of short stories and illustrations. Illustrations of girls were attached to stories and lyric poetry, and other pages were constructed with color frontispieces, photographs, various articles, and readers’ columns. Although manga were also included, they were just caricatures or short story manga a couple of pages long. It was in the first half of the 1950s that the pages of manga began to gradually increase due to the influence of Akahon manga (red-cover books, cheaply printed manga story books) and shonen manga (boys’ manga). For example, the manga magazine Shojo Club (Kodansha publications) included more than 20% manga in the mid-1950s but by the end of the 1950s consisted of more than 50% manga. Each manga story became longer, from 16 to 32 pages, and several manga stories were included in each issue (Masuda, 2004). With the increase of space given to manga in the pages of the shojo magazines, they soon became shojo manga magazines. With the popularity of monthly shojo manga magazines, weekly manga magazines were soon published, such as Shojo Friend in 1962 and Weekly Margaret in 1963. ­Nevertheless, only a few mangaka (comic artists) produced shojo manga, and most of them were male artists, except for a few female artists such as Masako Watanabe, Hedeko Mizuno, and Miyako Maki. Male mangaka often drew to make a living or to advance their careers (Yonezawa, 1980, 2007). Originally, the shojo category was produced by Japan’s modern ­education system and the medium of the magazine. No novelists or illustrators targeted solely girls as readers. In a period when Japanese women only rarely had careers, manga were created by male artists. As a result, male artists struggled with how to create stories for girls. THE MUTUAL SOCIETY OF READERS AND ARTISTS IN SHOJO MANGA The turning point came in the period of the late 1960s–1970s. Machiko Satonaka (1948–present) debuted in 1964 when she was a second-year student in high school and won the first prize for rookie of the year in the Kodansha magazine, Shojo Friend. Satonaka is a great representative of the female manga artists of the baby boom generation in Japan whose careers started with manga publications. The role of manga schools and the related manga awards supported by manga publishers was important in giving new artists an opportunity to debut as professional mangaka. As young female artists such as Suzue ­Miuchi mentioned at a later time, as a result of Satonaka’s sensational debut, to be a mangaka was no longer an absurd dream, but now became a realistic goal for young readers. With the increase in the number of teenagers debuting in professional manga magazines, as Satonaka and Miuchi did, the

Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance  27 distance between manga artists and readers was narrowing. In the 1970s, the structure of the mutual society between readers and artists became such that they were both nearly of the same generation. The readers who grew up reading shojo manga became mangaka themselves (Natsume, 2004, 2006). Young manga artists were depicting the stories they wanted to read for themselves rather than trying to imagine what their shojo readers would want. Shojo manga became the most influential medium among the many media aimed at girls because the route of becoming a mangaka was developed and shojo manga became the communicative tool for young females’ self-expression. THREE DOMAINS AND THE ACCEPTANCE OF SHOJO MANGA After the 1970s, shojo manga were mainly divided into three categories (Miyadai at el., 1993 pp. 8–25). According to Miyadai, manga were classified by their relationship to major artists of the day: (1) the domain of Machiko Satonaka; (2) the domain of Mariko Iwadate; and (3) the domain of Moto Hagio. The Satonaka domain is the category in which the artist depicts a stormy life story as a proxy experience for the readers. It is shojo manga as a popular novel that provides an experience that readers could never experience in the real world. The artists in this domain include Riyoko Ikeda and Yukari Ichijo, along with Satonaka. The topics in this group include historical drama, coming-of-age stories, “spokon” (“sport and spirit”), and sexual love (like works appearing in the girls’ monthly manga Seventeen). The heroine is generally a princess or a lady of the court in the Heian Period or a superhuman who excels in sports. Through the heroines’ experiences, readers can identify with the heroines and other main characters. Unlike the Satonaka domain, which provides a proxy experience, the Iwadate domain is understood as the realistic world: how to represent and interpret the realistic “I” and the surrounding “world.” This is the origin of “otometic” manga, developed by A-ko Mutsu, Yumiko Tabuchi, Hideko Tachikake, and Mariko Iwadate. In these stories, we see many different types of the self in settings from ordinary life. Regardless of the setting in the story, the readers can find a model that overlaps with themselves. Every scene takes place in ordinary surroundings that the readers find themselves in daily, concerning school life, love, and relationships with friends and family. The reader can learn how to read the world through shojo manga. On the contrary, in the Hagio domain we have the manga artists who are often called highbrow and who attracted the attention of readers unsatisfied with the otometic stories, which they saw as childish. Among these ­artists, Moto Hagio (The Poe Clan) and Ryoko Yamagishi (Hi Izurutokoro no ­Tenshi) are representative.

28  Nozomi Masuda In this model by Miyadai and others, these three domains cause ­ differentiation of the reader” and “differentiation of the generation” as “ three currents that present separate worlds, each with different readers (Miyadai et al., p. 18). Although this model may seem tidy, it is also true that the readers are not always exclusive to one category. Of course, each publication and/or magazine has its own characteristics. But many shojo manga magazines include diverse stories with different tendencies that may seem random, and the readers read those different types of stories at the same time. Shojo manga readers regularly and continually have contact with diverse types of stories through inexpensive shojo manga magazines that they purchase for a couple of dollars, which they can afford even as grade school children and teens, and read well into their twenties. Through these manga, readers can experience different types of the “I” and can relate to the real world by simulating the characters’ thoughts and relationships. In other words, shojo manga become textbooks for living. It may be the medium itself that exerts such a powerful influence on the readers. READING RELATIONSHIPS According to Miyadai’s model, the arrival of the realistic relationship story came with the origin of the otometic style after 1973. This development helped produce a new relationship between the readers and shojo manga: to read manga as a model of the real world rather than shojo manga as another reality (Miyadai at el., p. 15). This model should be kept in mind when thinking of the relationship between shojo manga and its readers. But the act of reading all girls’ comics as a model of reality is common to the work of all domains. Shojo manga is a character-based genre that follows the characters’ psychological movements and focuses on “the relationship” among the ­ ­characters regardless of whether the story is serious literature or even realistic. Regardless of whether shojo manga depict a fantastic adventure or a realistic world, the readers have to interpret relationships, patterns, and changes by focusing on reading the manga characters’ internal worlds. It leads the readers to learn how to read the world through shojo manga. Thus, shojo manga conclusively influences the process of readers’ growth and their lives. The shojo manga technique, which is the usage of overlaid frames and internal voice, made it possible to express complexities. The internal voice and poetic monologues, which in the frames directly depict the characters’ voices in their minds, express the gap between the internal voices and acts (Yoshimoto, 1984; Otsuka, 1995). Moreover, the complicated layering of frames, such as the use of frames without confining lines or empty ­ornamental frames without images in them, makes it possible to depict different times and spaces. Thus, these techniques make it possible to express past, present, and imaginative space simultaneously (Natsume, 1997;

Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance  29 Ito,  2005; Masuda, 2002). By acquiring these techniques, shojo manga became a medium that could bridge the gap between delicate feelings, the subtleties of human relationships, and the internal world of characters. KAWAII CULTURE AND GIRLS’ COMICS Kawaii culture has attracted a lot of attention in recent years, and without a doubt shojo manga laid the groundwork for this culture. Hideshi Otsuka discussed the supplements to the monthly shojo manga Ribon (Ribbon) and shojo mangaka who practiced the style of otometic manga at the end of the 1970s. They have a special place in the prehistory of the conspicuous consumption society of the 1980s. Otsuka pointed out that the readers of Ribon, who averaged 15 years of age, were the first shojo generation to adopt the word “kawaii” into their vocabulary. The rhetoric of kawaii was produced and spread through Ribon at that time (Otsuka, 1991b). Sanrio, a company that designs, licenses, and produces character goods, introduced a character called “Hello Kitty” in 1974. Otsuka quotes Jean Baudrillard as saying that Sanrio often emphasized a concept of kawaii that occasionally contradicts the usefulness of the product rather than creating a useful “thing” in itself, sacrificing such things as ease of use and durability. For example, in the case of a teacup with an illustration of Hello Kitty, consumers might purchase an item based on the semiotic sign of “cuteness” rather than the “thing” as a “teacup” (Otsuka, 1991b, p. 43). It provides an environment for girls who are surrounded by “cute” things and gives them the opportunity to exert economic power as consumers in society. Yuko Yamaguchi, who continues playing an active part as a designer of the third- generation Kitty, used to love reading Ribon during her elementary school days, and she states that she was a big fan of shojo manga (­ Yamaguchi, 2009, p. 28). Kawaii culture and shojo manga are strongly tied to each other. All we know about Kitty herself is that she has a family, a birthdate, and a specific height and weight, unlike Mickey Mouse and Snoopy who have extensive backstories. Kitty is a very simplified design, but that allows the female as the receiver of the design to find her own value and meaning in the consumption of Kitty goods, an expression of the consumer herself. ­Presented with the simple design of Kitty as the symbol of kawaii culture, readers of Ribon had an extensive archive of shojo manga stories to overlay onto Kitty’s two-dimensional design, as well as their own personalities. In Asia, Europe, and America, the characteristic of kawaii culture that spawns such a big fan base is that the two-dimensional images of characters, manga, and anime become more realistic as consumers identify with the characters by consuming the fashions, make-up, and character goods. Cosplay (costume play—dressing up like characters) has become a popular way for fans to become their favorite anime and manga characters. Although girls can never have the big eyes of shojo manga heroines, alterations are

30  Nozomi Masuda attempted with color contact lenses, false eyelashes, mascara, and digitally altered photo booth photographs. The fictional two-dimensional image manifested on the real body is a current example of the power of shojo. Further developments in the incarnation of shojo manga are expected in the future. WHAT IS THE POWER OF SHOJO MANGA? In the hierarchy of the modern patriarchal society, shojo are located in the lowest class. They exist in the limited gender category of shojo that is created by the media. However, girls are discovering how to play their part in the world and find expression in shojo manga. When bewildered by the changes taking place in their female bodies, when they are searching for identities, when they worry about their relationships with family and friends, and when they encounter any sort of problem in life, shojo manga help them face their struggles, find solutions, get encouragement, and learn how to live in the harsh world. The readers of shojo manga are not necessarily all young females. “For shojo” is just a category created by the publishers, not actual readers. ­Likewise, the main characters in the stories are not always girls, but also mature females or boys. Moreover, we should not forget that there are a few male comic artists in the shojo manga world, such as Shinji Wada and Izumi ­Takemoto. Regardless of gender and age, the main themes of shojo manga are relationships and orientation to the world. Shojo manga developed based on shojo culture in Japan. But it does not mean that this phenomenon is limited only to Japan. With the increased export of shojo manga to East Asia and Western countries in Europe and the US, the success of the touring exhibition of “Shojo Manga! Girl Power!” indicates that this is a worldwide phenomenon. The shojo manga sensitivity has reached beyond the limitations of age, gender, nationality, and religion. As a result, it is developing a new mutual society between readers and artists in shojo manga as it faces the world. (Translated by Masami Toku & Jon Aull.) REFERENCES Honda, K. (1990). Jyogakusei no Keifu—Saisyoku sareru Meiji (The Descent of Schoolgirls). Tokyo: Aoto sha. Ito, G. (2005). Tezuka Is Dead. Hirakareta manga hyogenron e (Tezuka Is Dead. Postmodernist and Modernist Approaches to Japanese Manga). Tokyo: NTT Publishing. Kawamura, K. (1993). Otome no Inori—Kindai Jyosei Image no Tanjyo (The ­Maiden’s Prayer—Birth of Modern Women’s Image). Tokyo: Kinokuniya Shoten. Masuda, N. (2002). Kakusan suru Jiku—Koma kosei no Hensen karamiru 1990 nendai iko no Shojo Manga. In Manga Kenkyu (Manga Study). Volume 2, pp. 108–120. Tokyo: Nihon Manga Gakkai (Japan Society for Studies in ­Cartoons and Comics).

Shojo Manga and Its Acceptance  31 Masuda, N. (2004). Shojo muke Zasshi ni okeru Gorakuka-keiko no Suii—1930s kara 1950s no “Shojokurabu” Bunseki yori. In Ningen Kagaku (Human Science). Volume 60, pp. 1–16. Osaka: Kansai University Graduate Program. Masuda, N. (2013). Shojo Zasshi ni okeru ‘manga’ teki Hyogen wo Tadoru—­ Meijimakki kara Taisyoki ni okeru “Shojo no Tomo” to “Shin-shojo” bunseki yori. In Manga Genre Studies. Masaharu Ibaraki (ed.). Kyoto: Rinkawa shoten. Miyadai, S., Ishihara, H., and Otsuka, A. (1993). Sabu-culture Shinwa Kaitai— Shojo, Ongaku, Manga, Sei no 30nen to Communication no Genza. Tokyo: Paruko Syuppan. Natsume, F. (1997). Manga wa Naze Omoshiroinoka—sono Hyogen to Bunpo (Why Manga Is So Interesting—Its Expression and Grammar). Tokyo: NTT Shuppan. Natsume, F. (2004). Manga-gaku e no Cyosen—Shinkasuru Hihyochizu (Challenge to Manga Study). Tokyo: NTT Shuppan. Natsume, F. (2006). Manga ni Jinsei wo Manande Nani ga Warui? (What’s The ­Matter If I Learn Life from Manga?). Tokyo: Random House Kondansha. Otsuka, E. (1991a). Shojo Zasshiron (Theory of Girls’ Magazine). Tokyo: Tokyo Syoseki. Otsuka, E. (1991b). Ribon no Furoku to Otometic no Jidai (Ribbon’s Extra Gift and the Otometic Era). Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo. Otsuka, E. (1995). Sengo Manga no Hyogenkukan—Kigoteki Shintai no Jyubaku (Spatial Expression in Manga after World War II). Kyoto: Hozokan. Uno, A. (1986). Jyojyoga, aruiwa Kagami no Kuni no Shojo tachi (Lylic Illustration, or Girls through the Looking-Glass). Tokyo: Sanrio. Yamaguchi, Y. (2009). Kitty’s Tears. Tokyo: Syueisha. Yanase, T. (1986). Yomigaere Jyojyoga—Bishojo Densetsu (Come Back Lylic ­Illustration—Legend of beautiful girls). Tokyo: Sanrio. Yonezawa, Y. (1980 and 2007). Sengo Shojo Manga-shi (History of Shojo Manga after World War II). Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo. Yoshimura, T. (1984). Mass Image-ron (Mass Image Debate). Okayama, Fukutake shoten.

3 Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box All the Girls Want Yukari Fujimoto

INTRODUCTION On July 5, 2014, Bishojo Sailor Moon Crystal (a remake of Bishojo Senshi Sailor Moon [Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon], 1992) was released simultaneously all over the world in 12 languages (Anime! Anime! News, August 4, 2013).1

Figure 3.1  A photo of Billboard with Sailor Moon taken by Masami Toku at Shibuya station, Tokyo, Japan (August 2, 2014).

The phenomenon of this new anime that was dispatched simultaneously all over the world followed the big-hit manga series Sailor Moon in the US in the fall of 2011, published by Kodansha USA. Indeed, Sailor Moon had

Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box  33 become more popular than the anime Naruto. Because of this popularity, the US publisher often said that Sailor Moon was evergreen. According to Shina,2 Kodansha USA made a great editorial contribution, publicizing the differences between their version and the version of the previous publisher, TOKYOPOP. Kodansha USA re-translated the content from the original Japanese to English, and at the same time, they reinstated the main characters’ original Japanese names, which had been given English names in the previous translation, and they also added translation notes. Furthermore, Naoko Takeuchi, the manga artist for Sailor Moon, created new front covers especially for the translated series (January 15, 2012). Sailor Moon is very popular not only in North America, but also in Europe, especially France, and in Asia, with China in the lead, and has retained its popularity 20 years after the anime was first released (Endo, 2008). Why did Sailor Moon become so popular? I published my analysis in the article “Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon: A Treasure Box of Everything a Girl Could Want—Sailor Moon’s Myth and Structure” in 1997, around the time when the first run of the manga book and anime version of Sailor Moon was completed. The article was published in the Japanese culture book, Millennial Monsters: Japanese Toys and the Global Imagination (Allison, 2006). In the article, I analyzed the reason for Sailor Moon’s popularity: as the title of the article states, it has everything that girls want and desire. I feel Sailor Moon marks the beginning of a new era, especially in the way she gathers power and in the source of her power. As a princess of the moon and as the guardian Sailor Moon, she’s certainly a chosen one to start with. However, she didn’t actually have that much power to start with (in fact, her kingdom perished once because of that). Sailor Moon gradually increases her power as she goes through a series of battles. First, she steps up to become Super Sailor Moon, and then ­Eternal Sailor Moon. One after another, she progresses through increasing ­levels of her power, ultimately becoming a shining power— “Gather powers into the holy chalice! Pour all our powers in here!” Sailor Moon possesses the strength to embrace all, the strength to nurture, and she is a symbol of unity, uniting the consciousness of those who fight to protect the Earth. This is nothing other than a feminine way of fighting and a postmodern approach to power. … Sailor Moon symbolizes a new era’s process of gathering energies. She attempts to acquire all kinds of things during the process as if to acknowledge she’s a greedy girl. Along with her sexy outfits, killer punch line, and a number of attractive, girlish possessions, the dynamism that forms the core of the Sailor Moon story has become rooted in people’s sub-consciousness, and will likely continue to influence many generations of viewers. (pp. 68–70) In this chapter, while examining the fact that Sailor Moon’s popularity has lasted more than 20 years not only in Japan but also all over the world,

34  Yukari Fujimoto I would like to analyze and discuss the changes in its popularity over those 20 years, the significant characteristics of Sailor Moon, and its current expansion throughout the world. 2000: WAS SAILOR MOON SUCCESSFUL IN NORTH AMERICA? In 2000, the topic of Sailor Moon’s popularity in North America was argued at a conference organized by the manga research society of Ritsumei ­University (International Language and Culture Research Center) and the manga program of Kyoto Seika University (May 27 and 28, 2000). The official theme of the conference was “Academic Manga Research Symposium—­ Dialogue with insiders and outsiders.” It was successful as the first manga conference in which academic and nonacademic researchers related to manga and anime who worked separately gathered together and discussed the possibilities of manga research. (Interestingly, many of the participants who had active roles at the conference, but who were not academic researchers, later became academic professors, including myself.) The conference featured many meaningful discussions about manga and anime in general. Among them were some interesting voices from participants (not panelists) who maintained that Sailor Moon had changed the US comics situation. This opinion came in response to the point that one panelist made that “most comic readers are male.” The participant said, “Certainly, more than 95% of readers of comics were male in the past, but the situation changed after the arrival of Sailor Moon.” “Since the anime Sailor Moon started, so many girls want to wear the costumes and are looking for a place to do that. As a result, many young teen girls have started to participate in science fiction conventions which used to be mainly only for devoted science fiction fans (who were mostly male).” Many conference attendees agreed with this opinion. At the shojo manga session, a Canadian researcher reported, “Sailor Moon is very popular. Mothers are not happy about it, but girls enjoy watching it.” She also commented that girls enjoyed it because Sailor Moon was not just about strong soldiers, but was also very “girly,” keeping the essence of girls as well. Nevertheless, the title of Dr. Anne Allison’s talk was “Why did Sailor Moon fail in the US?” There were two opposite analyses: one side argued that it was powerfully successful and changed the situation of comics in the US, and the other side insisted that it had failed. What was the basis for these two opposite analyses? At the conference, Dr. Allison’s argued that unlike Power Rangers or ­Pokemon, the broadcasting of the anime Sailor Moon failed since it was canceled after only three months. As a reason, she pointed out that there was “a contradiction in the term ‘Pretty Soldiers:’ the main character Usagi’s sloppiness before she becomes a soldier, the fact that she does not study at all, oversleeps, and that we get momentary looks at her in the nude when

Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box  35 she transforms into the heroine,” and so on. Thus, everything was related to traditional gender images. Sailor Moon might have changed the situation of American comics on some level, but it is true that the anime was not a big hit in the US. Yet I wondered whether the reasons for its failure were really related to gender issues as Allison argued. Her list of Sailor Moon’s faults may very well be the major attractions of the character. If Sailor Moon failed, perhaps it was not because of the content, but rather because it was broadcast at the wrong hour for its target audience. Another participant agreed with me. Sailor Moon was very popular in Canada, and it was hard to believe that the cultural differences between Canada and the US were so strong as to have made a difference. “Pretty Soldier” may be a contradiction in terms, but isn’t it true that popular American comics like Supergirl and Wonder Woman feature fighting females who are still feminine? (See Fujimoto, 2000, pp. 10–11.) Even though today Sailor Moon is extremely popular and successful in North America, its popularity was not very obvious in 2000. Nevertheless, the third volume of Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon was listed as number one in the “Graphic Novel and Trade Paperback” category in the US, as determined by Diamond Comic Distributors.3 In any case, the first run of the anime in the US was terminated after just three months (only 12–13 shows aired). According to information in Wikipedia, the US-censored version on the Cartoon Network was quickly taken off the air due to lack of viewers, and it had a lackluster reception compared to the original version. Owing to sensitive or controversial topics such as an affirmation of LGBT lifestyles, a Catholic parents’ group exerted pressure to get it canceled, which succeeded, but only after the series had finished its first run. WAS SAILOR MOON UNPOPULAR AT FIRST? It is a little known fact that at first Sailor Moon was not popular even in Japan. Its cancellation was discussed after just 6 months (24 episodes). Then how is it that Sailor Moon ultimately became such a tremendously popular program? What ideas did the creators come up with to rescue the program? The original anime version was based on Naoko Takeuchi’s shojo manga, Codename Sailor V (1993–1997, published by Kodansha). With the popularity of the shojo manga, Sailor Moon the anime version was developed and was broadcast at the same time that the manga was being published. At Beijing University, Kunihiko Ikuhara, a director of the anime Sailor Moon, presented at the first Innovative Cultural Symposium, a collaborative lecture series organized by Beijing University and Meiji University (May 31, 2010). As Ikuhara says: The anime Sailor Moon targeted young girls who were younger than the manga’s fans. The program aired after the anime series of Kingyo

36  Yukari Fujimoto Chuiho (Gold Fish Warning), so it targeted the same audience. Although additional main characters were added in response to the interests of the young girls’ age group, it was difficult to find sponsors, who were concerned that the audience might be older than that of the preceding program. If that were true, the audience rating would be lower and the characters’ goods would not sell well. As a result, the sponsors were apprehensive about supporting the program. To solve these problems, they decided to do something new that previous anime series had never done up to that point. (Masuda, 2011; Tsugata, 2007) One is that the supporting characters were introduced before the main character, and earlier than they were in the manga version. Each character had her own color so that the young audience members could pick their favorites among the sailor soldiers. Then the chief character, Usagi (literally “Rabbit”), who was the reincarnation of the moon princess, was introduced (a rabbit lives on the moon in a Japanese legend). Most girls in Japan love “princesses” and related products such as princess dolls, dresses, tiaras, and so on. By making Usagi a princess, the producers reasoned, the show and related products would surely be hit. In the beginning scene of the anime, the background of the main characters is hinted at. The chief character, Usagi, does not know that she is the reincarnation of the moon princess. She does not know either that her lover, the prince, has also been reincarnated on earth. But the young audience, girls, know the true story earlier than the main characters. Predictably, these catches made girls crazy about the story. Of course, the toy companies did not fail to show their new toys in the story, including the “princess” items. Bingo! Finally, Sailor Moon became the number one anime in audience rating, popularity, and related product sales. (Ikuhara, March 26, 2010) Using these efforts and ideas, Sailor Moon became the biggest anime hit in history. Yoshio Irie, who at that time was editor-in-chief of the monthly shojo manga Nakayoshi (and currently one of the executive directors of Kodansha), talked about the situation from his point of view (at the symposium, Monthly Pen–Shojo Manga Introductory Guide!, June 1, 2013) In fact, during the first summer, we’d discussed the possibility of stopping the anime series because of the low audience ratings, but the monthly shojo manga, which mirrored the anime, was about to unveil a major plot development. In the September issue [actually published in August], the story that the main character was actually

Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box  37 the reincarnation of the moon princess was ready. So it seemed stupid to cancel the animation at that time. After that, the audience was increased and the major product “Moon Stick” became mega-hit merchandise (as a Christmas present). (p. 82) In short, girls who were the biggest fans were the readers of the manga; they knew the plot developments earlier than those who just watched the anime. The key to the newfound popularity of Sailor Moon was that the chief character was both a soldier and a princess. How big was this big hit? According to Irie, At the end of 1992, Nakayoshi (a monthly shojo manga magazine that included the serialized story of Sailor Moon) had sold 98% of its printing, almost sold-out. At the end of year, the Moon Stick was released and sold about 500,000–600,000. For the free gift version offered to all readers, more than 780,000 applications were sent to us. As for the publication, 2.05 million was the highest, for the September issue in 1993. It was the highest record of any Kodansha publication, surpassing the previous record of 1.8 million for Candy Candy. The related goods sold about 150,000,000 Japanese yen (approximately 1.5 million US dollars) solely in Japan. It was enormous. The 1st monograph sold 2,000,000 issues too. Sailor Moon was definitely marketed well by us, but many ideas came from the mangaka herself (Naoko Takeuchi), new ideas that spoke to a generation and created this mega-hit. (2013, p. 83) SAILOR MOON BREAKS THE MOLD Kuhiko Ikuhara also provided information at the Beijing University symposium (2010) that supports Irie’s view above. At first, he said, the short mini-skirts were an idea from the original mangaka, Naoko Takeuchi, who was a big fan of figure skaters’ costumes, on which she based the original images. Briefly, the costumes of Sailor Moon were designed to show off female legs and make the characters look more attractive. The idea was very effectively expressed during the scene of Usagi’s transformation (to a soldier). In addition, Ikuhara mentioned that Sailor Moon had very unusual artwork. Previous girls’ anime had “good girls” at the center of the story, but it was different in the case of Sailor Moon. The main character is very materialistic, surrounding herself with gems, new cosmetics, dresses, and sweets. She wants everything that most young females want. Some saw this character as “unrefined.” However, there was another opinion—that she was the same as any other woman and very realistic. This is exactly what I felt about Sailor Moon, and it became the title of this chapter.

38  Yukari Fujimoto Ikuhara also said (March 26, 2010) that Sailor Moon mirrored today’s working women: “A ‘female hero who exterminates bad guys’ equates to a ‘female who has an active role in society.’ Young girls may have been attracted to this equation (perhaps unconsciously). The exaggerated characteristics of the female body such as the mini-skirt, and the scene of transformation, meant that to be born a female is not disadvantage in society, rather it is to have personality and characteristics.” This is an epoch-making change: that girls can fight without being men or dressing like men. This is precisely what I believe is Sailor Moon’s greatest charm, a perspective supported by Ikuhara. SAILOR MOON AND LGBT Sailor Moon was ahead of its time. The stories were filled with affirmations of feminism and the LGBT community (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender). However, this situation changed in the North American version of the anime (July 11, 2013).4 According to the website Buzzfeed (2013), the sailors Uranus and ­Neptune (Haruka and Michiru), who were lovers in the original Japanese version, were depicted as cousins who just got along really well, and of course they were straight. The gay couple Kunzite and Zoisite were also depicted as straight. Fisheye the cross-dressing sailor (or transgender depending on female or male costumes) was depicted as simply female. The Sailor Starlights who are usually female but change to male when they transform to soldiers, do not exist in the US version. In Italy, Sailor Moon reportedly portrayed boys as homosexuals who think that fighting is the role of girls, not boys, as shown in the anime. So the censorship in the US can be seen as stemming from that same attitude. But anything could happen in the Japanese version of Sailor Moon. Understandably, this was fertile ground for dojinshi (amateur fan fiction). Sailor Moon was so popular not only with females but also with males that the characters were used in dojinshi and particularly in yaoi. Generally speaking, yaoi is a playful parody of male heterosexual characters from anime and manga stories who are placed in homosexual relationships by amateur mangaka. There were many dojinshi based on Sailor Moon about lesbian and yaoi relationships based on the female characters. There was no story that inspired the sheer volume of fan fiction produced based on Sailor Moon (for example, Lunatic Party, 9 volumes, 1993–1996). Likewise, Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon fed the human appetite for anything that is fun. In other words, it might affirm the “female” gender from diverse points of view. “Girl Power!” is now a slogan all over the world. In a time when the animated Disney film Anna and the Snow Queen (originally titled Frozen) is a mega-hit, I believe the world is finally ready for Sailor Moon. (Translated by Masami Toku & Jon Aull.)

Sailor-Moon! The Treasure Box  39 NOTES 1. Anime Anime News (August 4, 2013): http://animeanime.jp/article/2013/08/04/ 15062.html. 2. Anime Anime Biz: “Why Sailor Moon is popular in North America now” by Yukari Shiina http://archive.today/9F3H#selection-751.0-751.37. 3. “MIXX’S SAILOR MOON MANGA IS THE NUMBER 1 GRAPHIC NOVEL OR TRADE PAPERBACK IN AMERICA!” Mixx Entertainment. June 18, 1999. Retrieved on August 21, 2011. http://web.archive.org/web/20001029221527/ http://www.mixxonline.com/mixxonline/company/press_releases/pr_990618_ sailor_tops.html　[Accessed July 13, 2014]. 4. Sailor Moon Was the Gayest Cartoon on Television」(July 11, 2013) http:// www.buzzfeed.com/lilyhiottmillis/sailor-moon-was-the-gayest-cartoon-on-­ television [Accessed July 14, 2014].

REFERENCES Allison, A. (2006). Millennial Monsters: Japanese Toys and the Global Imagination. University of California Press. Fujimoto, Y. (2008). Watashi no Ibasho wa Doko ni aruno? (Where Do I Belong? The Shape of the Heart as Reflected in Shojo Manga). (Paperback edition). Tokyo: Asahi-shinbun shuppan. Fujimoto, Y. (2004a). Aijyo Hyoron—“Kazoku” wo meguru monogatari (A Critique of Love: Stories of “Family”). Tokyo: Bungei-shunju. Fujimoto, Y. (2004b). “Oogonki wa kizuita binwan henshusha no shigoto.” In Monthly PEN Shojo Manga Cho-nyumon!. June 1, 2013, pp. 78–83. Fujimoto, Y. (2000). “Nihon wa Manga no Hollywood!?” (“Is Japan Hollywood!?”). In Putao, Summer issue, pp.10–11. Hakusensha. Fujimoto, Y. (1997). “Onnanoko no hoshii mono ga nandemo tumatta Sailor Moon no shinwa to kozo.” In Bessatsu Takarajima 330 Anime no mikata ga kawaru hon. Takarajima sha. Ikuhara, K. “Bisyojo Senshi Sailor Moon (Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon).” The 1st Innovative Cultural Symposium organized by Beijing University and Meiji ­University [conference]. Beijing, 26 March. 2010. Irie, Y. (2013). “Shojo Manga Cho-Nyumon (Shojo Manga Super-guide Book).” In Monthly Maganine PEN. pp. 82 (June 1, 2013). Tokyo: Gekkan Pen Sha (Monthly Pen). Masuda, H. (2011). Motto wakaru Anime Business. Tokyo: NTT Shuppan. Masuda, H. (2007). Anime Business ga wakru. Tokyo: NTT Shuppan. Saito, M. (2001). Kohitten ron (Debate Koitten). Tokyo: Chikuma Bunko. Saito, T. (2006). Sento Bi-shojo no Seishin Bunseki. Tokyo: Chikuma Bunko. Saito, T., Nimiya, K., Murase, H., et al. (1998). “Shojo tachi no senreki—‘Riboon no kishi’ kara ‘Shojo kakumei Utena’ made.” In Pop-Culture Critic. Seikyu sha. Tsugata, N. (2007). Anime sakka to shiteno Tezuka Osamu—sono kiseki to ­honshitsu. Tokyo: NTT Shuppan. Tsugata, N. (2004). Nihon Animation no Chikara—85 nen no rekishi wo tsuranuku 2-tuno jiku. NTT Shuppan.

4 The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past Sakura Momoko’s Chibimaruko-Chan Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase

INTRODUCTION Sakura Momoko’s Chibimaruko-chan, a manga series published in the girls’ comics magazine Ribon (Ribbon) between 1986 and 1996, is an autobiographical account of the author’s childhood growing up in ­Shimizu-city,1 Shizuoka, in the 1970s. The work, which contains humorous episodes of a little girl nicknamed “Chibimaruko,” was well received by a young female audience, and its 16-volume digest version sold more than 30 million copies (Ogura, 1994, p. 160).2 In 1989, this manga received the thirteenth K ­ odansha Manga Award (shojo manga section), and in January of the following year, it was adapted into an animated TV program.3 The CD of the opening theme song called “Odoru Ponpokorin” (“Dancing ­Ponpokorin”) by B. B. Queens sold 1.6 million copies,4 and Chibimaruko-chan goods—such as stationery, lunch boxes, and T-shirts— were part of the Chibimaruko-chan craze. Interestingly, the people who purchased Chibimaruko-chan were not only teenage manga fans, but also young college students and young working women.5 T. R. Reid, a reporter for the Washington Post, wrote about the Japanese people’s fascination with Chibimaruko-chan, describing that “when four twentiesh women, all reading Chibi Maruko-chan comic books in a downtown Tokyo restaurant, were asked the other day to explain their passion for the cartoon, they replied nearly in unison: ‘kawaii (cute).’”6 The character Chibimaruko possesses neither a strong personality nor any special talent. Although this little girl heroine is visually cute, she is also lazy and sloppy, deviating from the image of a conventional cute character, with “sweet, adorable, innocent, pure, simple, genuine, gentle, vulnerable, weak, and inexperienced social behavior and physical appearances (Kinsella, 1995. p. 220).”7 Nevertheless, Chibimaruko was attractive enough to play an important role in Japanese business, commerce, and the culture of Japan in the late 1980s through the early 1990s, a period of time when Japan was experiencing skyrocketing economic development. The readers’ and viewers’ fascination with the world of Chibimaruko-chan is believed to be because of the simple lifestyle and the image of a frugal family presented in this work; the author’s depiction

The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past  41 of an ordinary Japanese past is considered to have provided the people living in the hustle and bustle of the bubble era with a moment of peace and relaxation. Examining this portrayal of the Japanese past, however, one can find that it is different from the actual reality of the 1970s. It is in fact recreated to satisfy female readers’ wishes and desires. Chibimaruko-chan is ostensibly a manga about an ordinary girl living in the Japanese past, but it is actually outlandish, subverting cultural norms and traditions. In this chapter, I will discuss Chibimaruko-chan’s popularity in the context of the culture of the time. Looking at this work’s place in the history of shojo manga, I will also examine how this manga branched off from the manga tradition and how this cute little Maruko-chan came to win the vigorous support of female readers. CHIBIMARUKO-CHAN AND “JAPANESE-NESS” The first episode of Chibimaruko-chan introduces the fictionalized Sakura Momoko (the author), who states that “Chibimaruko” means “small and round girl.” Her physicality has a double connotation; whereas it ­represents cute infantile features, it also suggests negative Japanese physical traits. ­Japanese people’s fascination with the West since the Meiji period has instilled in their mindset a sense of inferiority and self-consciousness. As Tanizaki Jun’ichiro’s celebratory depiction of Naomi’s body in his Chijin no Ai (A  Fool’s Love, 1924–1925) suggests, possessing Western physical features symbolically implied to the Japanese the idea of modernity.8 In Chibimaruko-chan, however, the author subverts the Western physical ideal; instead, Maruko’s smallness and roundness are taken positively as indispensable qualities, constructing Maruko’s Japanese identity and supporting the marrow of Maruko’s manga world. Demolishing the sense of inferiority naturally associated with her nickname, Maruko is defined as a “Japanese girl” different from conventional shojo manga characters who often project readers’ bodily fantasies. The universality of her nickname (throughout the series her original name is seldom mentioned) has cultural importance as well; chibi (small), maru (round) ko (girl) can be interpreted as a generic character with whom all Japanese female readers feel associated. Maruko’s name is a mechanism that makes the readers positively accept themselves as Japanese women. Furthermore, Chibimaruko stays small and round, and she does not grow up throughout the work. In the manga, the author states: Even though a new semester has begun, Maru-chan is still in third grade. If you’re wondering why, it’s because the writer thinks that thirdgraders are cute and won’t let her be promoted to fourth grade.  … Maru-chan will always be in third grade. Please be good to her!!9

42  Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase Maruko is an eternally cute little girl residing in the Japanese landscape of the 1970s. Each episode deals with a trivial event that takes place in ­Maruko’s middle-class Japanese household, school, or community. Events such as a modest Christmas party at a community center, a visit to a cheap snack shop run by an elderly couple, festivals, and school excursions—which all evoke a feeling of nostalgia—are vividly illustrated. Depictions of popular singers and items of the 1970s evoke the reader’s sense of familiarity as well. Throughout the episodes, warmheartedness is presented as an important value. Close interaction among neighbors and Maruko’s family—a threegeneration family consisting of grandparents, parents and an older sister— are emphasized. Her mother, a full-time housewife, is a disciplinarian and the authority of the household. The matriarchal atmosphere is best represented by the ochanoma (Japanese-style living room), where the family hangs out, eats food, and watches TV sitting around a Japanese-style table or kotatsu (small electric-heated table, which is commonly used in winter in Japan) (see Figure 4-1). Omote Mami states that the image of a family gathering in the ochanoma represents “the healthy family” often observed in 1970s home dramas or TV animation such as Sazae-san.10 This is a picture of a modern family bonded by affection and equality.11 Chibimaruko-chan provides readers with a warm and comfortable space in which they feel ­protected, at home, and more importantly, happy to be Japanese.

Figure 4.1  Sakura Momoko, Chibimaruko-chan vol. 5. © Momoko Sakura “Usually, around 7pm we all gather in the room where the TV is. … It’s a ‘gathering,’ but we do nothing special there. We eat and drink as usual.”

The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past  43 The image of “good old Japan” is greatly different from the money-oriented society of the late 1980s when comics became popular. Critics maintain that the mode of nostalgia connotes resistance against contemporary society. Jon Su, for instance, states: “nostalgia has provided a means of expressing ­resistance for individuals who otherwise lacked the power to change their circumstance more directly. … Nostalgia is rebellion against the modern idea of time, history and progress.”12 The readers’ fascination with the nostalgic world of Chibimaruko-chan is understood as a reaction to their dissatisfaction with their contemporary society, reflecting a desire to fill their emptiness and to seek Japanese origins and identities. REIMAGINED JAPANESE FAMILY Japan’s unprecedented economic progress, which began in the mid-1980s,13 created a materialistic consumer society. This era was called yokubo no jidai (the age of desire); Japanese people’s obsession with high-end luxury goods was notorious and reported even overseas. Young college students hunted for cool and trendy products by Cartier, Chanel, and Lois Vuitton,14 which provided them with the illusion that they were sophisticated, superior, and “non-Japanese.” Magazines played a significant role in creating a materialistic culture. For instance, the women’s magazine Hanako15 stimulated the purchasing desires of young working women (or OLs [office ladies], as they were called) by providing ideas for a new lifestyle, information about trendy restaurants and travel overseas, and so on. The 1980s is often considered to be “the age of women” as well; it was a time when women’s entry into the workforce became prominent, especially after the equal employment opportunities law was passed in 1986. Hayashi Mariko’s Run Run wo Katte Ouchi ni Kaero (Buy Happiness and Go Home),16 a smash hit collection of essays published in 1982, aptly expresses the sense of exaltation that women living in this era were enjoying (Tanaka, 1981).17 Hayashi (who used to work at an advertising agency) wrote; People think that advertising copywriter is a good occupation, so many young girls come up to me saying “I love to write,” or “I am interested in the advertising business.” But they never say “I want to become famous,” “I want to work in a glamorous world,” or “I want money.” Surely they must have more in mind. … Having money is a great feeling! When you become famous, you will be pampered by others. What a wonderful feeling that is! … I love money and fame; that’s the conclusion I finally reached.18 This work was revolutionary because it not only represented women’s voices, but also exposed women’s true desires (honne). It even encouraged the readers to follow in her footsteps to rise in the world and to get what

44  Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase they really wanted without hesitation.19 (After the economic bubble burst, however, women soon realized that the power they possessed as consumers and business targets was quite hollow.) The time period of Chibimaruko-chan’s publication coincided with women’s increased presence in the workplace. On the surface, the frugality and simple lifestyle emphasized in Chibimaruko-chan seem to signal the rejection of contemporary values. If we read the manga carefully, however, it aptly reflects the ambition and yokubo (desires) of women of the time. The ­Japanese past depicted by Sakura Momoko is a space where she (and her readers) can easily take control, and it is fantasized and re-created conveniently. The Japanese home, for instance, is modified and reimagined from the cultural norm, transformed from a traditional patriarchal home into a femalecentered cozy one. The deviation from the traditional image of home is observed in the fact that Maruko’s family members do not follow culturally expected gender roles. The father just stays home and does not seem to be doing anything. The grandfather is powerless and is simply a kind old man. The other male family members and Maruko do not have much discipline either. William Lee (2000) points out: [I]n Maruko’s family … [t]he characters often have their own selfish agendas which lead to trouble. Even the doting grandfather can be a cause of family strife, as his favors to Maruko are usually objected to by her mother, who worries that Maruko will become spoiled … the mother’s frugality, the father’s stubbornness, the grandfather’s childlike doting, and grandmother’s senility all add up to a satire on the ideal of innocent family life presented in the older anime.20 However, this shift in the portrayal of the Japanese family was not simply a product of the fantasy of the author and her readers. It was also a reflection of actual social developments in Japan during the mid-20th century. Lee states that “Chibi Maruko-chan’s satire hints at the breakdown of the traditional family structure.”21 Traditionally, portrayal of the family unit followed the conventional model with a powerful father, who as the head of the ie (a traditional multigenerational household), takes absolute control and exercises power, as the proverb “earthquakes, thunder, fire, and fathers” describes.22 However, the fact is that since Japan lost the war in 1945, fathers’ authority had already dwindled, and they receded into the background of the family culture. Japan’s rapid economic growth also forced fathers to work long hours; consequently, their presence at home became slim and shadowy.23 Outside the world of shojo manga this new paternal pattern was already being portrayed. Eto Jun pointed out that the isolation of the father at home, in contrast to the strong emotional bonds between a son and a mother, was mercilessly depicted as the picture of the modern ­Japanese nuclear family in Japanese literature after its defeat in the war. In the 1970s, the incapacitated paternal image in the family came to be observed in manga

The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past  45 by male artists such as Tominaga Ichiro in Ponkotsu Oyaji (Shabby Dad) and Furuya Mitsutoshi in Dame Oyaji (Bad Dad), in which fathers are not only depicted as weak, but are also mocked and satirized. In the realm of women’s culture prior to the 1980s, however, the relationship between father and daughter had rarely been explored. Perhaps owing to the lack of interaction they had had with their own fathers, female artists found it difficult to portray father–daughter relationships in their work. This could be why stories of this time begin to portray fantastical ­versions of fathers and father figures who have close, sometimes almost peer-like relationships with their daughters. In Chibimaruko-chan, a new type of family is presented.24 Taking advantage of the fantasy nature of manga, Sakura Momoko explores the possibility of a new father–­daughter relationship. Maruko’s father is depicted as an affectionate, friend-like father. 25 Maruko’s relationship with her father is well represented by the fact that she refers to him by his name “Hiroshi” or “anta” (you). They play with the same toys, are both scolded by the mother, and laugh at the same silly television programs while sitting under the kotatsu table, and so on.26 Thus Chibimaruko-chan deconstructs the traditional image of the Japanese home, reimagining and re-creating it for the sake of female readers. CHIBIMARUKO-CHAN AND KAWAII CULTURE Prior to Chibimaruko’s arrival in the world of shojo manga, a subgenre consisting of girly manga called otome-chikku (otome means maiden and chikku implies “-tique”) manga was dominant on the pages of Ribon ­(Ribbon) magazine.27 The image of otome-chikku manga is represented by motifs such as ribbons, frilled skirts, and antique furniture. The heroines are all “shy, ordinary, and not particularly intelligent. They are not often beautiful,”28 but are just kawaii.29 Kawaii is a word holding the promise that the heroine will someday be found by someone who will treat her as being very special. This type of cuteness is based on weakness. As Satoko Kan explains, the essential meaning of the word kawaii (cuteness) is the “feeling of protecting the growth of someone weaker than oneself while hoping to bring them toward a desirable condition.”30 Chibimaruko, born on the pages of Ribon, possesses cuteness, yet greatly deviates from the otome-chikku convention. Chibimaruko’s cuteness is far from weakness that needs protection. Unlike otome-chikku heroines, she does not wear ribbons or dress with frills. Her house does not have antique Western furniture either; the central space of her home is a small Japanese-style ochanoma living space. What makes Maruko’s kawaii interesting is that the flaws of her personality and unfeminine qualities make her cute. How did this sense of cuteness develop? The answer is hiding in plain sight at the margins of shojo manga magazines. When we look at shojo manga of that time, we often find a small, simple cartoon self-portrait of the author speaking to us directly from a corner of the

46  Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase panel. This character is silly, inserts jokes, comically comments on the scene, and exposes the author’s true feelings (honne). Interestingly, these kibitzers are always depicted to be small and round like Chibimaruko. Readers adore these ordinary but cute little characters because they make them feel close to the author. Otsuka Eiji states that “these cartoon artists through caricaturizing themselves expose their personality to the readers. … These artists who merrily chat with the readers are new stars, and are close to the readers.”31 These little cartoon characters are important because they help strengthen the shojo manga community. Judging from the fact that Chibimaruko-chan is the author, Sakura Momoko herself, Maruko shares DNA with and can be considered a spin-off developed from the tiny self-portraits in the corners of Ribon magazine.32 Miyadai Shinji considers that romantic cuteness (represented by otome-chikku heroines) is closed off from the outer world.33 On the other hand, the new cuteness that emerged in the 1980s is open to the outer world and is used as a means of communication with others.34 As Otsuka Eiji emphasizes, the concept of kawaii was used to construct young women’s own cultural space and created a new standard of cultural value; by sharing kawaii feelings with others, young women built their own intimate community.35 Chibimaruko-chan’s nostalgic but modified Japanese past is a cultural space for female readers to eternally act spoiled and greedy and behave as cute little girls in their imaginations. Furthermore, owning Chibimarukochan goods and singing the theme song from the television series at karaoke, they share kawaii with others, strengthening the power of this fantasy world. The world of Chibimaruko-chan is a young woman’s protected “bubble” that provides her with coziness, confidence, and a sense of belonging. Shojo manga is often characterized by dream and fantasy. Chibimarukochan’s nostalgic past is also a fantasy, although its depiction of 1970s Japan gives the illusion that it is genuine. The Chibimaruko-chan fad was created by women who lived in the bubble economy era; by watching and reading this work, women could feel empowered and be themselves.36 From the Chibimaruko-chan phenomenon of the late 1980s through the early 1990s, we can understand that shojo manga is no longer solely for young girls but has developed into an important medium for adult women as well, a medium that negotiates between their desires and their sociocultural environment. ACKNOWLEDGMENT Part of this article is based on “Little Round Girl in the Japanese Bubble Economy,” which I presented at the “Pop Heroines and Female Icons of Japan” symposium at the University of Missouri-St. Louis on May 4, 2012. I would like to thank the organizer, Professor Laura Miller, and the participants of the symposium for giving me precious feedback.

The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past  47 NOTES 1. Shimizu City is located at the north end of the Izu peninsula. Agriculture and fishing are the dominant industries. 2. Ogura Chikako states that many million sellers during the late 1980s were ­created because of the purchasing power of young women (Ogura, Aidorujidai no Shinwa, p. 160). 3. It was aired at 6 pm on Sunday, just before Sazae-san, a long-running anime series that also deals with a three-generation Japanese family. At one point, Chibimaruko-chan’s popularity exceeded that of Sazae-san; in September 1990, the viewership rating was 39.9%, which is the highest in TV anime history. 4. In April 1990, according to the Oricon pop charts. http://www.oricon.co.jp/ news/85147/full/ 5. In 1990, the word “Chibimaruko-chan” was selected as the winner of the buzzwords contest (ryūkōgo taishō). Japan was in the grip of a Chibimaruko-chan fad. 6. Reid, “Japan’s Bart Simpson.” 7. Kinsella, “Cuties in Japan,” p. 220. 8. In 1959, Miss Japan won the Miss Universe pageant. Miss Japan had “long, straight legs.” Miss Japan’s victory was a cause for exultation throughout Japan, and she became a symbol of “postwar progress” (Bardsley, p. 385). 9. Sakura, 1987, p. 96. 10. Omote, 2006, p. 43. “The healthy family” indicated here is a modern family influenced by the Western familial ideal in which family members are connected through affection and parents devote themselves to their children’s growth. 11. Premodern Japanese family relationships were rigidly feudal, and the familial roles were clearly demarcated by gender. 12. Su, 2005, p. 4. 13. The bubble economy era started in 1986 and ended around 1993. 14. At the same time, these materials provided them with a sense of belonging— owning these “brand name goods,” they felt they were connected to someone and that they were part of contemporary culture, society, and time. Hara Hiroyuki states: “thinking that they were the same as others, they could fill the emptiness in their hearts. Through brand goods, they could position themselves” in society (Hara, 2006, p. 94). 15. See Buckley, 2002, p. 184. 16. Hayashi Mariko (1954– ) is an essayist and fiction writer. Her debut work Run Run wo Katte Ouchi ni Kaero, published in 1982, made her famous. “Run run” is an onomatopoetic phrase of her creation (indicating a happy feeling) that became very popular. She is a recipient of various prizes such as the Naoki Prize and the Yoshikawa Eiji Literary Prize. Her representative works include Byakuren Renren (1995) and Minna no Himitsu (1998). 17. As Tanaka Yasuo’s Nantonaku Kuristaru (Somehow Crystal, 1981) aptly conveys, excessive material consumption began to foster a feeling of emotional emptiness in the population. 18. Hayashi, 1982, p. 107. 19. For an examination of the media, women, and the workplace, see Ochiai Emiko, “Gendai o yomu III.”[AU: this is not in Refs.] 20. Lee, 2000, pp. 196–198.

48  Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase 21. Ibid., p. 198. 22. See Holloway, 2010, p. 79. 23. See Eto Jun, 1967. 24. Toshiko Ellis points out that the young fiction writer Yoshimoto Banana also presents, “in a remarkably relaxed and nonchalant manner, a new possibility of the forms a family can take” (Ellis, 2009, p. 202). In Yoshimoto’s Kicchin (1988), a popular work considered to have close similarities to shojo manga, she presented a home consisting of a heroine, a male college student, and his beautiful mother, who is, in biological terms, his father, in order to show a new type of family whose members are not linked by blood. The father is fantasized and recreated in a way that removes the threat of controlling or oppressing his daughter. See Dollase, 2011,“Choosing your Family.” 25. For instance, in Ribon there was another popular manga called Otosan wa ­Shinpaisho (My Dad Is a Worrier) by Okada Amin. This work was serialized around the same time as Chibimaruko-chan: the story is about an eccentric father who loves his daughter so much that he constantly worries about her and tries to protect her even at the risk of his life. The father in Otosan wa ­Shinpaisho appeared as a special guest in an episode of Chibimaruko-chan. 26. Maruko’s grandfather is a calm and gentle man. He sometimes makes mistakes and causes some humorous predicaments. He is depicted as weak willed, but lovable and cute. He is one of the most popular characters in Chibimaruko-chan among the readers. 27. Representative artists include Mutsu A-ko, Tabuchi Yumiko, and Tachikake Hideko. These artists developed the genre within the pages of Ribon from the mid-1970s through the 1980s (Otsuka, 1995, p. 13). 28. Kan, 2007, p. 201. 29. The stories usually deal with romantic love; when the heroines find the men of their lives, they can be special. Love provides them with confidence and “self-affirmation.” 30. Kan, 2007, p. 200. 31. Otsuka, 1995, p. 83. 32. Also, Sakura Momoko always includes a bonus page, which is also a convention of shojo manga; both Maruko and Sakura Momoko (the author) thank the readers for reading her story and send personal messages to them. 33. Miyadai, 2007, p. 124. 34. Ibid. 35. Otsuka, 1995, p. 158. 36. Chibimaruko-chan is still a popular TV show, but it is watched mainly by ­children and is no longer the cultural phenomenon for all ages it once was.

REFERENCES Bardsley, J. (2008). “Girl Royalty: The 1959 Coronation of Japan’s First Miss ­Universe.” Asian Studies Review 32(3): 375–392. Buckley, S. (2002). “Hanako.” In Encyclopedia of Contemporary Japanese Culture, p. 184. New York: Routledge. Dollase, H. T. (2011). “Choosing Your Family: Reconfiguring Familial Relationships in Japanese Popular Fiction.” Journal of Popular Culture 44(4): 755–772.

The Cute Little Girl Living in the Imagined Japanese Past  49 Ellis, T. (2009). “Literary Culture.” In Yoshio Sugimoto (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Modern Japanese Culture, pp. 199–215. New York: Cambridge ­University Press. Eto, J. (1967). Seijuku to Soshitsu: haha no hokai. Tokyo: Kodansha. Hara, H. (2006). Baburu Bunkaron: posuto sengo to shite no 1980 nendai. Tokyo: Keio Gijyuku Daigaku Shuppankai. Hayashi, M. (1982). Run Run wo Katte Ouchi ni Kaero. Tokyo: Kadokawa shoten. Holloway, S. D. (2010). Women and Family in Contemporary Japan. New York: Cambridge University Press. Kan, S. (2007) “‘Kawaii’: The Keyword of Japanese Girls’ Culture.” In Miryoku aru daigakuin kyoiku inishiatibu: no jisedai josei rīda no ikusei, pp. 200–202. Tokyo: Ochanomizu Daigaku ‘miryoku aru daigakuin kyoiku’ inishiatibu jinshakei jimukyoiku. Kinsella, S. (1995). “Cuties in Japan.” In Lise Skov and Brian Moeran (eds.), Women Media and Consumption in Japan, pp. 220–254. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Lee, W. (2000). “From Sazae-san to Crayon Shin-chan: Family anime, social change, and nostalgia in Japan.” In Timothy J. Craig (ed.), Japan Pop!: Inside the World of Japanese Popular Culture, pp. 186–206. New York: M. E. Sharpe. Miyadai, S., Otsuka, M., and Ishihara, H. (2007). Sabukarucha shinwa kaitai. Tokyo: Chikuma shobo. Ogura, C. (1994). Aidoru jidai no shinwa. Tokyo: Asahi Shinbun sha. Omote, M. (2006). “Kateika ga oshietekita ‘shokutaku deno kazoku danran’: sengo kyokasho kara,” Kyoto Joshi Daigaku hattatsu kyōikugakubu kiyo 2: 43–49. Otsuka, E. (1995). “Ribon” no furoku to otomechikku no jidai. Tokyo: Chikuma shobo, 1995. Reid, T. R. (1990) “Japan’s Bart Simpson: Kinder, Gentler, Cuter: Television: The animated adventures of ‘Tiny Miss Maruko’ have topped the ratings and spawned a ­‘Simpsons’-style merchandising blitz,” Los Angeles Times, December 28, 1990. http://articles.latimes.com/1990-12-28/entertainment/ca-7404_1_chibi-maruko-chan. Sakura. M. (1987). Chibimaruko-chan, vol. 1. Tokyo: Shueisha. Su, J. J. (2005). Ethics and Nostalgia in the Contemporary Novel. New York: ­Cambridge University Press. Tanaka, Y. (1980). Nantonaku kurisutaru (Somehow Crystal). Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Yomota, I. (2006). ron. Tokyo: Chikuma shobo. Yoshimoto, B. (1988). Kitchen. Tokyo: Fukutake Shoten.

5 Autism and Manga Comics for Women, Disability, and Tobe Keiko’s With the Light Shige (CJ) Suzuki

What makes me feel sorrow is not my child with disability but the society that doesn’t accept him. (A letter of the reader of With the Light) Mommy believes that there is a way for my world and your world to connect someday. (Tobe Keiko, With the Light, 2007, 86)

INTRODUCTION In today’s Japan, Japanese comics or manga are a major part of popular culture, “a fundamental part of the lives of most Japanese” (Napier 2011, 228), and are read by “nearly everyone of all ages” (Norris 2009, 225). Yet, it is not accurate to assume that a Japanese person reads every kind of manga. Japanese manga are produced and circulated in multiple formats (e.g., manga and nonmanga magazines, books, newspapers, online, advertisements, etc.), and published works are finely compartmentalized into different types based on target audiences in terms of age, gender, and genre preference. These statements are probably recognized by anybody who is familiar with manga, but I repeat it here because “manga” (or following Power’s differentiation, “MANGA”) in North America is not perceived as a medium in general but is inextricably associated with a certain visual style.1 A mere glance at several “how-to-draw manga” books in English reveals that the difference between manga and American comics lies in character depiction: manga feature glossy, doe-eyed characters with pudgy bodies in contrast to the characters in American comic books, which are more faithful to human anatomy (often with an emphasis on muscle structure in the case of superhero comics). Such an association is in part due to the fact that the majority of manga translations into ­English in the 1990s had been mainstream boys’ manga (shonen manga) and girls’ manga (shojo manga), although several recent adult-oriented gekiga (manga for adult males) titles might offer another perspective on Japanese comics. What might be less discussed is “women’s manga” (josei manga), not romance-oriented “ladies’ comics,” but manga aimed at post-shojo readers, including housewives and mothers.

Autism and Manga  51 This chapter investigates the cultural position and social function of ­comics in contemporary Japan with a case study of the Japanese female cartoonist Tobe Keiko’s women’s manga: With the Light: Raising an Autistic Child (Hikari to Tomoni).2 Serialized first in a comics magazine for women, Tobe’s manga chronicles the life of a mother and her parental struggle of raising a child with autism.3 Through the perspective of the mother protagonist, Tobe’s manga approaches the difficult and complex issue of autism through graphic storytelling, narrating mainly how society (mis-)treats and alienates children with autism and their families. Tobe’s work has achieved critical acclaim in Japan, receiving the “Excellence Prize” at the Japan Media Arts Festival in 2004.4 The manga also attained general popularity and was adapted into a TV drama series in the same year.5 Regrettably, however, With the Light was left incomplete due to the creator’s death in 2010, but her unfinished manga, including the draft sketch for the ending of the series, was published in book form.6 In the following sections, I first examine the communicative and communal nature of the Japanese women’s manga magazine in which Tobe’s manga was first serialized. Then, I discuss how Tobe’s With the Light contributed to Japanese society by visualizing the issue of autism that would otherwise have remained marginal, if not invisible. Although this chapter discusses Tobe’s manga series With the Light, one graphic narrative created by a Japanese female cartoonist, my goal in this chapter is to demonstrate the comics’ social potential as a powerful communication tool in both cognitive and affective ways.

A COMICS MAGAZINE FOR WOMEN Tobe’s With the Light was serialized in a monthly women’s manga magazine called for Mrs., which primarily targeted housewives and working women in their late 20s, 30s, and 40s. Many women in these age groups had been exposed to comics as children or adolescents in the 1970s when sophisticated Japanese girls’ comics flourished. It was the so-called golden era of girls’ comics, during which several talented female creators, including Hagio Moto, Takemiya Keiko, Oshima Yumiko, Yamagishi Ryoko, and others started publishing their story manga in major girls’ comics magazines (Toku, 2007, p. 25). Those comics creators— later named the Magnificent 24 Group (24-nen Gumi)—began to produce intellectually challenging and philosophically profound works with refined visual styles (Thorn 2010, v–vii). Many of the readers who encountered the shojo manga of this period did not “grow out” of shojo manga upon reaching adulthood. Or, more precisely, Japanese manga editors and publishers have strived to maintain their readerships by adjusting manga magazines and content for the maturity of shojo manga readers. From the late 1970s, publishers began to issue manga magazines for young adults and adult women (josei); correspondingly, female comics creators started tailoring manga content to appeal to the gradual maturity of their female readership.

52  Shige (CJ) Suzuki

Figure 5.1  Cover of for Mrs. (April, 2008).

The magazine for Mrs. was founded in 1986 as one of these women’s manga magazines, mainly featuring manga series about housekeeping, working women, female friendship, love affairs, the everyday lives of women in local communities, and so on. Although the earlier period of the magazine contained romance-oriented (even erotic) ladies comics, since the late 1990s for Mrs. began to change its manga content to incorporate works dealing with social issues such as health care and social welfare. Influencing the magazine’s reorientation of its content was the rapid transformation of Japan’s social structure. By the mid-1990s, due to higher life expectancies and lower birthrates, Japan had the highest proportion of elderly citizens in the world. As of 2011, 23% of Japan’s population consisted of citizens over the age of 65, and the percentage of the elderly is expected to increase rapidly in coming years.7

Autism and Manga  53 In a word, Japan is an aging society and will be more so because of its decreasing birthrate. This demographic shift has exerted more familial and social pressure on women who are conventionally expected to take care of their family members, particularly elderly and infant/child family members. To respond to this social change, for Mrs. began to feature manga about childcare, nursing aged parents, social workers in the medical and welfare fields, and people with disabilities (like Tobe’s With the Light), all of which are of urgent concern to citizens in Japan during this new millennium. Although it is part of a niche market in the Japanese manga industry, for Mrs. has been commercially successful and has been sold not only at major bookstores but also at convenience stores on street corners in urban and suburban areas.8 Taking up unconventional topics for manga subject matter, for Mrs. has adeptly reconfigured its contents to appeal to female readers who are aware of and/or are experiencing familial and social problems and anxieties caused by Japan’s social change. Similar to typical Japanese manga magazines, for Mrs. consists of not only manga series but also nonmanga contents such as mini-essays, readers’ columns, and brief reports about manga creators’ daily lives. The magazine also contains several articles written by professionals about nursing parents, childrearing advice, legal problems in civil affairs, and how to deal with familial conflicts, such as conflicts between wives and their mothersin-laws, an issue that commonly occurs in Japanese extended households. As such, for Mrs. provides useful instructions and practical advice on how to cope with everyday issues and problems. These noncomics sections also offer a forum for readers to share their feelings and emotions. In fact, in the correspondence section, several readers frequently confess the frustrations that come from their individual and familial burdens, comparing them with fictional manga characters who experience similar distress and vexations in featured manga series. In her book, Straight from the Heart, cultural anthropologist Jennifer Prough addresses the participatory nature of Japanese girls’ manga magazines, as seen in amateur comics art contests, roundtable talks between creators and readers, and readers’ correspondence sections. She explains that this participatory orientation of Japanese girls’ comics magazines encourages readers to construct an “imagined community.” She calls its function “fabricating community,” which shapes a “sense of connection and affinity among disparately located girls” (Prough, 2011, 59). This social aspect of the Japanese comics magazine also applies to for Mrs., which attempts to increase communication among creators, professionals, and readers by allowing readers to contribute to the featured column series in the magazine. Through this combination of comics and noncomics content, for Mrs. readers are invited to develop a sense of community and even become active participants in this communal space. This participatory aspect of the manga magazine invites people who might be living in isolation due to the time-consuming care of their family members, including members with disabilities and aged parents, to emotionally connect with each other, not simply as consumers but as participants and even contributors.

54  Shige (CJ) Suzuki BRIDGING THE TWO WORLDS THROUGH COMICS Recently in North America, the comics medium has been reinvented as a setting for personal expression as “graphic memoirs.” Above all, we have seen the rise of serious autobiographical works that address issues of illness, disability, and health care. Some examples include Paul and Judy Karasik’s comics memoir, The Ride Together (2003), which tells the story of growing up with an autistic brother; Brian Fies’s autobiographical work about his mother, Mom’s Cancer (2006); and Sarah Leavitt’s Tangles: A Story about Alzheimer’s, My Mother, and Me (2010). These works, sometimes called “medical memoirs,” have attracted scholars, researchers, and professionals, especially in the medical humanities, an interdisciplinary field of humanities subjects and medical sciences. Medical humanities scholars find graphic narratives about patient care and nursing useful. For instance Michael Green and Kimberly Myers propose including these graphic memoirs in medical studies, claiming that they help medical professionals learn about patient care with their “powerful visual messages [that] convey immediate visceral understanding in ways that conventional texts cannot” (Green and Myers, 2010, p. 574).9 Tobe’s With the Light can be aligned with these “serious” graphic memoirs about illness and disability, although, unlike the abovementioned American counterparts, all of which are based on comic artists’ real-life experiences, Tobe’s manga is neither autobiographical nor nonfictional. In Japan, from the beginning of its serialization, With the Light was well received by readers, including the parents of autistic children and welfare professionals in Japan. Yet, when its English translation was published in 2007, it received mixed reviews. For instance, an essay appeared in the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, which deems With the Light a “useful tool for clinicians who want to provide families with a book on autism that is realistic and sensitively portrayed (VanBergeijk, E. O., 2009).”10 Yet another review posted on the website The Comics Reporter is critical of the manga, stating that the problem of Tobe’s manga is its “hyper melodramatics” and pointing to a drawing in which Hikaru’s first utterance of “mommy” is drawn out across a “full page and is bathed in transcendent sunlight” (Greenlee, 2008, n.p.).11 According to this reviewer, who has an autistic child, such dramatization is an exaggeration of a life’s moment. This criticism is, to some degree, reasonable, and yet, what might have been overlooked is the stylistic conventions of mainstream shojo manga. As several manga researchers have discussed (Schodt, 1986, pp. 88–91; Otsuka 1994, 56–72), Japanese shojo manga artists, particularly those of the Magnificent 24 Group, developed sophisticated techniques to communicate their protagonists’ interiority (feelings, emotions, thoughts, and memories) via visual images and symbolism. They experimented with page layouts, sometimes breaking down or overlapping panels, or they often added excessive decorations such as flowers, glittering lights, and objective correlatives to signify

Autism and Manga  55 the character’s subjective feelings. The visual style of shojo manga, employed in Tobe’s manga, is intended to communicate with readers on the level of affect. In this view, Tobe’s use of this mainstream shojo manga convention points to her skillful tactics of emotionally appealing to the target audience while integrating sensitive and complex subject matter (autism/disability) into her work without simple didacticism. Still, it is true that the manga repeatedly engages in melodramatic components such as exaggerated emotions, interpersonal conflicts, the enduring mother, and the like. The melodramatic nature of With the Light is also a reminder that it inherited a postwar Japanese manga tradition that originated in a commercial, even mercenary industry. It should be noted, however, that manga’s legacy of the genre convention is also indicative of how ­Japanese “serious” comics are positioned in Japanese comics culture. Whereas in the US comics culture superhero or humor comics (comic books) seem to be clearly separated from recent serious “graphic novels” (often published in book format), today’s Japanese comics culture constitutes a more seamless continuum that includes both popular entertainment and comics that deal with serious issues. Given these thematic concerns, it seems appropriate to place Tobe’s manga in conversation with disability studies, a relatively new field that studies the roles of people with disabilities. Unlike medical or clinical approaches, the field of disability studies examines the social and cultural position and discourse of disability, including analysis of the representation of people with disabilities in popular culture. Scholars and researchers in this field are (self-) critically aware that the voices of people with disabilities have been alienated and even silenced. In particular, people with cognitive and intellectual disorders (such as autism) tend to have difficulty speaking out for themselves in a conventional manner. This causes a plethora of misrepresentations of autistic people, in particular in popular cultural productions. For example, in popular entertainment, people with neurological disorders are frequently depicted as sorts of “idiot savants”—as most (in) famously depicted in the 1988 Hollywood film Rain Man—where the titular character displays exceptional abilities in limited fields, while struggling with autism. Tobe’s manga redresses this (mis)representation, noting in her manga that autism is a disorder that has a wide-ranging spectrum, and such extremely heightened abilities are not always present in individuals with autism (and Hikaru has no special “talent”). In another example, the popular representation of autism (or other ­mental disabilities) tends to fall into a narrative of overcoming difficulties and hardships (which often aims to be a form of catharsis for the a­ udience). This type of narrative regards disability as a “deficiency” or “lack” in that it reinforces the “normalcy” of a given society. Against this tendency of popular narratives (and conventional studies on disability), scholar Mark Osteen claims the necessity of what he calls “empathetic scholarship,” one that seeks to gather “experiential knowledge from family members and

56  Shige (CJ) Suzuki friends of an autistic person” (Osteen, 2008, p. 8). In the introduction of his edited book, Autism and Representation, Osteen argues the importance of working together with people with disabilities; he says, “we must strive to speak not for but with those unable or unwilling to communicate through orthodox modes” (Osteen, 2008, p. 8). Tobe’s With the Light partakes in this empathetic scholarship. In an interview, Tobe talks about her original motivation to create a manga work about autism, stating that she encountered a mother with her autistic child at the kindergarten Tobe’s son attended (Tobe, 2004, p. 12). This encounter and subsequent interactions with them made her realize her total lack of knowledge about autism and parental struggles of having an autistic child. To rectify her ignorance, Tobe conducted detailed research on autism and related issues around it. She devoted herself not only to interviewing parents with an autistic child, specialists, educators, and social workers, but also to obtaining firsthand knowledge about autism by visiting autistic children and adults at local welfare centers. Tobe’s research was done while she was serializing her work for the magazine. This process is reflected in the story as the protagonist mother gradually learns about autism, familial care methods, and existing professional support systems. It is also manifested in the characterization of the protagonist’s autistic son, Hikaru. At the beginning of the series, Hikaru was modeled on the one autistic child whom Tobe had encountered in real life, but as the series unfolds (i.e., as Hikaru grows up), Hikaru becomes a composite character, modeled on various autistic children. In fact, many of the things that happen to Hikaru and his mother in the narrative are based on incidents that befell those children and their parents in real life. Knowing the diverse symptoms of autism, differently manifested in different individuals (as autism is a spectrum disorder), Tobe is very careful not to generalize about autistic children, adding a note that Hikaru’s symptomatic behavior is not always the same as that of other autistic children. And yet, the composite nature of Hikaru’s characterization is effective in that, unlike the abovementioned North American autobiographical comics memoirs, Tobe’s graphic narrative represents the collective experience of many parents and autistic children. Throughout With the Light, Tobe makes it clear that the problem of autism lies not in the disability itself but in society. The main plot of the manga is the struggle of the mother, Sachiko, who is parenting her son, Hikaru (the name “Hikaru” means “light” in Japanese), from infancy to age 16. Sachiko faces numerous difficulties and hardships, such as mistreatment, misunderstanding, isolation, and lack of institutional support, in raising her son. Such a narrative concern reflects the social condition of people with autism in Japan. The Japanese word for autism is “jihei-sho,” which is literally (mis)translated into “self-closure symptom.” This terminology has created the misunderstanding that autism is a psychological disorder similar to depression, or an antisocial tendency, rather than a neurological impairment. This misperception of autism is not limited to Japan. In the

Autism and Manga  57

Figure 5.2  The protagonist’s mother-in-law falsely criticizes her.

West, mothers were falsely charged with causing their child’s autism (as the 1950s-era “refrigerator mother” theory attests). These misunderstandings about autism are in part due to the relative invisibility of autism as a disability in society. Compared to physical disabilities, autism is primarily invisible because most individuals with the condition look “normal” for most of the time, although autistic symptoms appear differently, depending on the degree of autism. Because of this relative invisibility, the general public is less aware of the struggles and predicaments that envelop autistic people and their families. To counter this sort of invisibility, Tobe’s manga “visualizes” the “hardships” imposed by society’s ignorance and prejudices. Throughout the series, With the Light illustrates how society (mis)treats and marginalizes autistic children and their families. In so doing, Tobe’s manga raises questions about disability, otherness, normality, and even what it means to be human.

58  Shige (CJ) Suzuki In Tobe’s narrative, however, ignorance about autism is first expressed by the protagonist’s mother. Immediately after realizing her son is autistic, Sachiko (who has little knowledge about autism at the time) is confused and feels helpless because Hikaru’s behaviors seem beyond comprehension. Regardless of her biological tie, she is unable to establish meaningful communication with her own son, who does not respond or behave like “normal” children. In a word, Hikaru appears as an incomprehensible and incommunicable “other” to her. One of the significant turning points comes early in the manga series. Sachiko is in the park where another couple is playing with their son who is close in age to Hikaru. Observing Hikaru’s inability to respond to his mother’s call (unlike the couple’s son), she feels so miserable that she starts to cry helplessly in the middle of the park. Sachiko then notices Hikaru placing wildflowers at her feet; it is Hikaru’s way of communicating with her. This realization makes her feel a connection with her son, and she muses: “[w]e might have a connection of our own. It’s just different from everyone else’s” (Tobe, 2007, p. 86). The mother’s realization points to a contention that an autistic child is not an incommunicable other, but rather that such individuals have unorthodox ways of interacting and communicating. For Tobe, autism is not exceptional or special but an unconventional state of being human. Indeed, in one interview, Tobe answers the question about her manga’s popularity among both parents of autistic children and general readers by saying, “what I wanted to write was a case of raising a child, not a special case of raising an autistic child” (Tobe, 2003, n.p.). If such is the case, what Tobe attempts to do in her approximately 4,000-page manga series is to bridge the two different worlds: the world of the autistic (including parents with autistic children) and the world of the ­“normal.” This pursuit of sharing different worldviews is most impressively elucidated by the protagonist mother who says, “I’d like to see the world through your eyes, Hikaru” (Tobe, 2008, p. 6). However, this hope, uttered from the affection she feels toward her son,will never be fully realized. And yet, Tobe’s manga attempts to connect the two separate worlds of people with autism and the rest of us through the power of comics. Earlier in the narrative, one of Hikaru’s disorders is expressed as the lack of understanding of orderly sequences. When he encounters an unexpected event— for instance, Hikaru learns of a sudden change in a regular TV show—he quickly feels uneasy or, even worse, he loses his temper. At first, Sachiko is embarrassed and helpless when confronting this situation; but she soon ­realizes that Hikaru behaves better if he knows what will happen to him beforehand. To communicate with Hikaru, Sachiko learns to use illustrations with captions to explain sequential events to him. This visual explanation enables Hikaru to understand the order of events more effectively. Once Sachiko has begun to employ this method of communication, she constantly draws pictures to help Hikaru understand how the “normal” world works. For instance, Sachiko uses pictures with captions to inform Hikaru about how he will be vaccinated for chicken pox.

Autism and Manga  59

Figure 5.3  The use of images and words to communicate with Hikaru.

This method of visual and textual communication presented in the narrative can be considered a meta-commentary on the medium of comics itself, similar to comics critic and creator Scott McCloud’s “working” definition of comics as “juxtaposed pictorial and other images in deliberate sequence” (McCloud, 1994, p. 9). In other words, the mode of communication between the mother and her autistic child within Tobe’s manga parallels the one between the comics creator and her readers. As they read the With the Light series, readers gradually understand the (multiple) ways in which autistic people make sense of the world, just as autistic Hikaru learns how the world of nonautistic people works. Tobe’s work attempts to achieve this mutuality, drawing together the separate worlds of the “abled” and the “disabled,” as well as parents of autistic children and readers, striving to establish a better and more meaningful relationship between them through the form of comics. CONCLUSION: THE MEDIUM IS THE MESSAGE/MASSAGE It is always difficult to assert the influence of a text over its audience; questions of media effect remain unsolvable. Yet, in retrospect, Tobe’s manga was a cultural phenomenon that brought the issue of autism to the public’s attention. As mentioned earlier, the popularity of Tobe’s With the Light prompted

60  Shige (CJ) Suzuki a TV drama adaptation in 2004, which reached a much broader audience, imparting information and knowledge about autism and the social and familial issues surrounding it. From 2003 to 2005, NHK produced a series of documentary programs about people with autism, followed by more media coverage about autism. In 2004, the Japanese government enacted a law that guarantees institutional and community-based support for children with autism, learning disabilities (LDs), and Asperger’s syndrome, with a corresponding budget allocation. Again, no direct connection can be confirmed, but considering the numerous online posts about autism that refer to With the Light, it is safe to assume that Tobe’s manga was a significant contributor to the public discussion about autism. The planned ending of With the Light that remained as a draft sketch depicts Hikaru, now age 14, massaging his grandmother’s shoulders.

Figure 5.4  The last page of With the Light (published in a draft form).

Autism and Manga  61 This ending suggests Tobe’s hope for a better relationship between people with and without disabilities in which both benefit from each other. With this planned conclusion of the story, Tobe encourages us to regard ­Hikaru’s “uniqueness” not as “otherness” but as a valued difference. This ending of With the Light might also remind us of McLuhan’s book title, The Medium Is the Massage (1967), a play on the words of his famous dictum: “the medium is the message.” With both phrases, McLuhan pointed to the powerful function of a medium on society. Utilizing the medium of manga to require the reader’s participation, Tobe has successfully “massaged” the stiffness attached to talking about autism and issues around it. In Japan where comics are widely embraced by the public, manga may be a powerful agent of change. NOTES *This chapter is based on the paper I delivered at the international conference, “Women and Manga: Connecting with Cultures beyond Japan,” in Hanoi, ­Vietnam, held from March 23 to March 25, 2012. The conference was organized by Professor Ogi Fusami with her research project “Women’s Manga Research Project.” 1. Scholar Natsu Onoda Power observes that Japanese comics titles are circulated in the US with certain visual and thematic associations, even though the term manga signifies “comics” for the Japanese. She differentiates the US concept by capitalizing MANGA (Power, 2009, pp. 7–11). 2. Japanese names are written with the family name first and the given name last in this essay. 3. The first three episodes appeared in the magazine from November 2000 to ­January 2001. The continuous serialization started in September 2001. 4. See the website of the Agency of Cultural Affairs in the Japanese government: . 5. As of February 2010, Tobe’s With the Light sold 2,400,000 copies in total. See the Asahi newspaper article on February 9, 2010. 6. English translation is available in eight volumes from Yen Press, supplemented with cultural notes for English-speaking readers. In addition to English, With the Light has been translated into Chinese, Korean, and Taiwanese. 7. See the Japanese government’s official website, “The Statistics Bureau and the Director-General for Policy Planning of Japan,” http://www.stat.go.jp/data/ jinsui/2011np/pdf/gaiyou.pdf. 8. According to the Japan Magazine Publishers Association (JMPA), for Mrs. was one of the top-selling magazines (selling about 150,000 copies) from 2010 to 2013 in the category of “women’s manga magazine.” See their website: http:// www.j-magazine.or.jp/data_002/w5.html. 9. I think it is beneficial that the medical humanities movement has started to include graphic memoirs about illness and medical treatment. Yet, gender studies scholar Jane Tolmie is critical of the instrumental application of comic works for education. She remarks that she is “not recommending these comics as

62  Shige (CJ) Suzuki educational or counseling tools primarily, but instead as creative and insightful explorations of human pain” (Par. 7). 10. For the book review from the Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders, see http://www.springerlink.com/content/b34744815823l141. 11. See http://www.comicsreporter.com/index.php/briefings/letters/15536.

REFERENCES Green, M. J., and Myers R. K. (2010). “Graphic Medicine: Use of Comics in Medical Education and Patient Care.” BMJ Journals 340(30): 547–577. Greenlee, K. (2008). “Kevin Greenlee on Goodbye to Print Iteration of Clear Blue Water.” The Comics Reporter, September 18. Accessed April 3, 2012. http://www. comicsreporter.com/index.php/briefings/letters/15536. “Jiheisho ji no haha kaku” (“Drawing the Mother with an Autistic Child”). (2010). Asahi Newspaper, February 9: 29. McCloud, S. (1994). Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Harper Collins. McLuhan, M., and Quentin, F.  (1967). The Medium Is the Massage. New York: Random House. Napier, S. (2011). “Manga and Anime: Entertainment, Big Business, and Art in Japan.” In Routledge Handbook of Japanese Culture and Society, edited by ­Victoria Lyon Bestor, Theodore C. Bestor, and Akiko Yamagata, pp. 226–237. New York: Routledge. Norris, C. (2009). “Manga, Anime and Visual Art Culture.” In The Cambridge Companion to Modern Japanese Culture, edited by Yoshio Sugimoto, pp. 236–260. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press. Osteen, M. (2008). “Autism and Representation: A Comprehensive Introduction.” In Autism and Representation, edited by Mark Osteen. New York: Routledge. Otsuka, E. (1994). Sengo Manga no Hyogen Kuukan: kigoteki shintai nojubaku (The Space of Expression in Postwar Comics: The Enchantment of the Symbolic Body). Kyoto: Hozokan. Power, N. O. (2009). God of Comics Osamu Tezuka and the Creation of Post–World War II Manga. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. Prough, J. (2011). Straight from the Heart: Gender, Intimacy, and the Cultural ­Production of Shojo Manga. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Schodt, F. L. (1986). Manga! Manga!: The World of Japanese Comics. Tokyo: ­Kodansha International. Thorn, M. (2010). “The Magnificent Forty-Niners.” In A Drunken Dream and Other Stories, by Moto Hagio, pp, vi–xiii. Seattle, WA: Fantagraphics Books. Tobe, K. (2003). “Jiheisho no Ko to Tomoni” (With an Autistic Child). Fukushi netto wāku (The Welfare Network), May 28. Accessed September 18, 2012. http:// www.nhk.or.jp/heart-net/fnet/arch/wed/30528.html. Tobe, K. (2004). “Hikari to Tomo ni Kometa Omoi: kosodate shinagara manga o kaite” (“My Thoughts on With the Light: Drawing Manga While Raising C ­ hildren”). Min’na no Negai (Everybody’s Hope). 445: 11–13. Tobe, K. (2007). With the Light: Raising an Autistic Child. Vol. 1. New York: Yen Press.

Autism and Manga  63 Tobe, K. (2008). With the Light: Raising an Autistic Child. Vol. 2. New York: Yen Press. Tobe, K. (2011). With the Light: Raising an Autistic Child. Vol. 8. New York: Yen Press. Toku, M. (2007). “Shojo Manga! Girls’ Comics! A Mirror of Girls’ Dreams.” ­Mechademia 2: 19–32. University of Minnesota Press. Tolmie, J. (2010). “Dealing with Illness? Read a Comic,” Huffpost Living, October 15. Accessed April 5, 2012. http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/jane-tolmie/medicalcomics_b_1002248.html. VanBergeijk, E. O. (2009). “Keiko Tobe, With the Light: Raising an Autistic Child.” Journal of Autism and Developmental Disorders 39(10): 1497. http://www. springerlink.com/content/b34744815823l141.

6 Queer Readings of BL Are Women “Plunderers” of Gay Men? Kazumi Nagaike

INTRODUCTION Narratives of male–male romance and eroticism mainly created by and for women are now commonly referred to as BL (which stands for boys’ love).1 Scholars of Japanese BL have provided a historical overview of the development of BL cultures in Japan, tracing the first discernible BL culture to the early 1970s. At that time, male–male romance and eroticism were newly articulated by shojo manga artists, including the Magnificent 24 Group artists. After BL culture was initiated in the 1970s, popularization of BL began in the 1990s with a series of book marketing successes. The current boom in the p ­ opularity of Japanese BL is demonstrated by the fact that almost 150 BL manga comics and novels are published each month (Kaneda et al. 2007), along with more than 30 BL manga magazines. Yumiko Sugiura (2006), a ­journalist, points out that the BL market grosses 120 million yen per year (27). Moreover, the American BL critic Dru Pagliassotti’s (2009) coinage of the term gloBLisation represents an unquestionable acknowledgment of the global proliferation of BL manga and related cultural phenomena. Pagliassotti argues that the globalization of Japanese BL reveals a complex hybridization between Japanese cultural products and local contributions to the BL genre which are created and consumed in other countries. Previous critical analyses of BL in Japan have primarily explored this popular genre of male homosexual fantasies in relation to the presumed heterosexual desires and orientation of Japanese women. In attempting to analyze the discursive aspects of “queerness” in the BL genre, I propose reading these narratives from a decentered perspective, by addressing the ways in which gay men respond to this particular female-oriented genre (­Yoshimoto, 2008, 2010).2 My analysis of gay men’s reception and ­consumption of BL narratives is based mainly on the vocal criticisms of BL made by some ­Japanese gay male activists, starting in the early 1990s. Some gay readers harshly criticize this female-oriented genre, on the basis of the limited, ­stereotypical images of the gay characters portrayed in it. They claim that, on a subconscious level, female BL writers/readers are homophobic, and that this genre thus “plunders” gay men’s images. In this regard, in this chapter I specifically attempt to consider three issues involving the images of gay

Queer Readings of BL  65 men represented by those who are not gay (i.e., women): (1) the apparent reluctance of female BL creators/fans to connect their BL activities with the sociopolitical implications of those activities; (2) the limitations of the identity-politics stance taken by some gay critics in relation to BL works; and (3) the deconstruction of gay stereotypes in recent BL works. THE YAOI RONSO The Yaoi Ronso (Yaoi Dispute) is believed to have started around 1992, when a self-identified gay activist, Masaki Sato, harshly criticized BL narratives as being derogatory toward gay men. This dispute spanned about four years, and major correspondences among participants in this dispute, including Sato and female BL creators/readers/critics, were privately published and circulated—in mini komi (privately circulated booklet) ­choisir—among insiders; Sato’s overall statements about BL works were later summarized and published in a journal article (1996). His strong statement attempts to clarify the obvious discrepancy between BL male characters and “real” gay people, asserting that “male characters (engaging in homosexual intercourse in BL) are nothing but female forged images that accord with their sexual fantasies. Also, these characters are very distant from gay men in reality” (p. 161). He continues to bash stereotypes of male characters in BL who are described as prince-like, beautiful young men, and concludes that gay men who do not fit into this category are forced to be invisible and are disdained by women reading/creating BL works. Hiroshi Ishida’s article, which came out in 2007, helped reignite the debate over the representations of gay characters in BL. One of his article’s central theses is based on the fact that in the past a certain number of female BL creators/fans have themselves expressed disdain concerning the lack of seriousness of BL as a genre. Moreover, they have shown a strong aversion to any serious criticism/analysis of BL (or its creators and readers). Ishida summarizes these female BL creators/fans’ I-don’t-care attitude, using a phrase hottoite kudasai (literally “leave me alone”). As Ishida and other critics point out, many female critics of BL works (e.g., Azusa ­Nagajima [1991, 1998], Tamae Tanigawa [1993], and Chizuko Ueno [1998]) have emphasized that the vital force of the fantasy elements in BL derives from the fact that BL has nothing to do with the genuine social situation of gay men. Thus, in response to the intense criticism of BL for “plundering” gay images and promulgating distorted, stereotypical gay representations, these female critics have limited their analysis to the psychological process through which female creators and consumers of BL fantasize male–male erotic relationships. In this way, these female critics/creators/fans have drawn a clear-cut line between BL representations and what they call “real” gay people in order to advance what they consider to be the most persuasive and effective counterargument. However, the current thrust of postfeminist

66  Kazumi Nagaike criticism clearly demonstrates that this kind of gender-specific analysis of BL has exactly the same limitations as previous BL discourse in that neither approach is queer enough. As Ishida says: There are specific people in our society who are called “gay” (or “homo”). Even those who are not concerned with BL have some specific images of these gay people; for convenience, let us call these kinds of gay images the “A” group. On the other hand, fujoshi (or BL female fans) term the specific relationship which is based on male– male eroticism and bonding “homo”; for convenience, let us call these kinds of gay images the “B” group. Some BL fans insist that “A” is totally different from “B,” so the “B” images which are objects for our female desire have nothing to do with “A,” i.e. with gay people or images of them in reality. (p. 115) The teleological notion of creating a real/imaginary “enemy”/other to protect one’s self-image should be questioned. Instead, bridging these two seemingly opposing groups—in other words, female BL creators/fans and gay readers/critics—might lead to further fruitful developments in overall BL studies. However, the question remains: “How can this be done?” BL IDENTITY POLITICS AND STEREOTYPES From the queer point of view, gay people’s criticisms of the female par­ ticipants in BL culture do serve to undermine female dominance over the gay representations in BL. However, in taking an identity-politics stance toward analysis of BL works, such critics narrow their critical perspectives ­regarding issues of “authentic” representation. For example, these critics disregard the inherent possibilities offered by a comparison between the gay representations in BL and those in narratives created by male authors (or, more specifically, self-identified gay male authors). Wim Lunsing (2006) is correct in pointing out that identity politics should be questioned as a means of analyzing BL narratives, precisely because “if yaoi manga are criticized for giving false presentations of gay men, how come gay manga ­[created by gay men] are not?” To reinforce Lunsing’s statement, I would like to point out that, in his influential article, Ishida never calls into question gay narratives created by and for gay authors, nor does he even mention them. Lunsing says that gay porn manga comics created by and for men, in which gay men’s images sometimes seem to be stereotyped, never become a target for criticism/accusation. Sato is careful to specify that his critique of BL does not necessarily mean that gay narratives created by and for gay people should be left unchallenged. However, the overall tone of his critique reflects the assumption that tojisha (self-identified gays) have the right to judge gay images, and he is far less critical of gay narratives directed

Queer Readings of BL  67 at gay men. Similarly, Akiko Mizoguchi (2004) suggests the ideological danger of tojisha discourse which dichotomously endows tojisha with the right/ authority to tell which is real/right and fantasy/wrong; Mizoguchi challenges a critic who unprecedentedly includes Ragawa Marimo’s New York New York in the canon of describing “real gays.” Ragawa’s New York New York was serialized in one of the most popular shojo manga magazines, Hana to Yume, from 1995 to 1998. This work deals with seemingly more practical issues of gay men, such as closeted gay identity, HIV issues, ­discrimination/ prejudice against gays, and gay cruising scenes. A specific discourse has been constructed to value this work as an exceptional, realistic gay narrative composed by a female manga artist. Of course, I am fully aware that this kind of “minority speaking” (or the perceived necessity that representations correspond with reality) provides a strategic context to contest socially imposed epistemological frameworks (e.g., binary categories such as heterosexual self and homosexual other). However, as, for example, Gayatri Spivak, Rey Chow, and others in the field of postcolonial discourse argue, this sort of minority-identity discourse runs the risk of narrowing the specific identities of individuals. A danger implicit in the criticisms advanced by some gay BL scholars is that the analytical voices of self-identified “gay” people could be taken as a “threat” by female BL participants, who might automatically assume that gay people consider them to be plunderers of gay images, even if these gay critics do not intend to be so. In this context, we also need to consider the evident terms of “surrender” offered by certain female critics/artists during the final stage of the Yaoi Dispute. The devastating critiques that were leveled at them during the dispute forced them to agree that women can only be involved in BL activities after they have recognized their shame and guilt as plunderers of gay images. Thus, some BL creators/readers/critics end up viewing BL as a guilt-oriented activity, comparing women who like BL to “horny middle-aged men who watch lesbian porn.” However, I will argue that this kind of criticism completely fails to address the unsolved paradoxes involved in the fusion of reality and representation. The sexual identities of BL creators and critics must not be prioritized over artistic representations. If we are to narrow the gap between female and gay BL participants, our analysis must avoid falling into the trap set by narrowly defined identity discourse. An effective way to accomplish this objective, as Lunsing argues, may be to nurture pluralizing viewpoints toward gay images by relating gay BL representations to the gay images in narratives created by and for gay people. Considering the problematic issue of the peripheral location of gay characters in BL, Ishida concludes that self-identified gay characters are generally portrayed in terms of the deviant, pathological other. Thus, they are never depicted as protagonists, while self-identified heterosexual male characters who “accidentally” fall in love with other men and have sexual intercourse with them always assume these narrative roles. Ishida also points

68  Kazumi Nagaike to numerous strong homophobic statements that appear in BL narratives, such as: “Never dare to play the homo around me!”; “There is no way on earth that you’re a homo”; and “Please don’t apologize to me. It’s my fault. I’m a damn gay, but I should have known better than to behave that way.” Ishida’s argument clearly reflects Akiko Mizoguchi’s criticism of BL as a category of female homophobia. According to Mizoguchi (2000), BL narratives clearly reflect female readers’ sense that they do not want to identify with “real” gay men, even in fantasy; thus, these narratives effectively marginalize “real” gay people as “monsters.” In this context, I would like to examine gay BL characters in terms of Homi Bhabha’s theoretical stance regarding the constructive process of the ste­ reotypical other. In Bhabha’s postcolonial discourse, stereotypes represent the colonizer’s subconscious fear of the colonized. According to Bhabha, colonialist discourse needs to shift from recognizing certain images as positive or ­negative to analyzing the process through which such images are made. ­Bhabha’s psychoanalytic-postcolonial critical view argues that the sense of identity of the colonizer, not the colonized, is disoriented, and this lack of stability is paradoxically balanced by the invention of an imaginary primitive other. Taking a theoretical perspective similar to that of Bhabha, I would argue that the stereotypical images of gay men in BL (in particular, the prototypical examples cited by Mizoguchi and Ishida) are artifacts of BL women’s sense of fear. Then, the question arises: What kind of repression or fear hides behind these stereotypical images of gay BL characters? Perhaps, as Mizoguchi says, it is the fear of deviating from heteronormatively established gender formations that marginalize “real” gay people as “monsters.” Similarly, Reina Lewis examines Western artworks produced in the ­European colonization period and questions the standardized criteria that label white European women (artists) as either bad racists or good revolutionaries. Lewis suggests that dichotomously labeling creators of specific images does not reveal how and why these images were produced. Not content with a simplistic accusation of Western women who produced distorted, stereotypical images of oriental women, Lewis attempts to reveal how specific sociocultural contexts are embedded in the text of represented images, through focusing on the textual interpretation. In this regard, examining what kinds of sociocultural referentiality are hidden beneath the specific images of gay men in BL works rather than criticizing BL fujoshi would open up a new and subversive space to reconcile “real” gay men and fujoshi, and to explore broader perspectives on issues concerning representations. SELF-IDENTIFIED “GAY” BL CHARACTERS After closely examining recent BL narratives, I would like to add another tentative contribution to the debate on problematic stereotypes of gay BL characters. Perhaps establishing a binary opposition between heterosexual

Queer Readings of BL  69 hero and homosexual pervert is required, in order to psychologically counterbalance women’s subconscious fear of deviating from socially imposed gender norms. Nevertheless, recently published BL works do feature self-identified gays as protagonists. Figures 6–1 and 6–2 respectively, say: “I’m 28 years old, with 10 years experiences as a gay”: “I’m so-called gay.” I examined the monthly publication Be-Boy, which has the largest circulation in the BL genre. Among 68 issues published between 2004 and 2011, almost all contain a story that features a self-identified gay as protagonist, either in the seme (top) or uke (bottom) role. In this analysis, I count self-identified gay characters as those who use words such as “gay,” “homo,” “doseiaisha,” or other, similar terms to identify their sexual orientation. If I had included characters who do not describe themselves with any of these words, but seem inclined toward homosexual relations, the total would definitely have increased. It must be admitted that most of these self-identified gay characters express some degree of shame regarding their sexual orientation. However, a number of other characters in these narratives rarely consider their sexual orientation as either a personal defect or a social stigma. In recent BL narratives, one also finds fewer protagonists who say such phrases as: “I’m not gay, but I love you,” “I can’t imagine having sex with any other man but you. You are the one exception,” as a means to (over) emphasize their primary heterosexual orientation. Such exaggerated emphasis on characters’ essentially heterosexual orientation often appears to be necessary in BL narratives, in order to soothe female BL readers’ subconscious fear of deviating from the established heteronormative paradigm. This attitude could be explicitly summed up in conscious terms as: “Even though these characters do engage in same-sex intercourse, they’re basically heterosexual and never have same-sex intercourse with other men outside of their relationship. So, that’s OK.” Since women do read these BL works that feature self-identified gay protagonists, they presumably must also appreciate these new BL characters, who identify themselves as gay or avoid making homophobic statements. It appears to me that such novel gay BL protagonists serve to deconstruct certain aspects of previous BL stereotypes, at least in relation to the psychological orientation of many female BL creators/fans. CONCLUSION The preceding discussion constitutes only the very beginning stage of my ongoing research on the social/political/psychoanalytical bases of gay BL representations. This research needs to be expanded by taking into account, among other things, the viewpoints of BL consumers through direct examination of the voices of female, gay, and heterosexual male readers (fudanshi) of BL. Certain specific stereotypes have been employed in order to enhance the aesthetic validity of the characters portrayed in BL, and these stereotypes

70  Kazumi Nagaike also require further examination and analysis. Prior to the 2000s, most of the male characters depicted in BL were rather feminized—that is, androgynous—in terms of both their physical and psychological characteristics. These characters (including seme characters) are generally drawn as bishonen (beautiful boys), with beautiful faces similar to the portrayals of girl characters in shojo manga. However, in some BL works published in the 2000s, bishonen (nonheterosexual) characters who are busaiku (not good-looking) or gachimuchi (extremely muscular), or who self-identify as gay begin to be depicted and thus receive some degree of acknowledgment. This recent diversification in portraying the physical and psychological attributes of male BL characters can be read from a queer theoretical perspective as reflecting a potential foregrounding of non- or antimonolithic narrative forms. However, it is also possible to take the critical analysis of this proliferation of nonheterosexual bishonen characters even further by arguing, for example, that the wide-open choices among available ­character attributes— which can be associated with Hiroki Azuma’s “data-based” theory (2009)— constitute a basic premise for the endless moe (pleasure) which can be derived from such BL works. Azuma’s analysis of data-based moe views moe as the specific pleasure derived from consumption of superficial data. By following such lines of research, I will attempt to further comprehend the meaning of this proliferation of self-identified gay characters in contemporary BL, within the contexts of both their queer theoretical potential and the ways in which they reflect a contemporary “data-based” desire for moe.

Figure 6.1  “Furareta otoko wa ikaga desuka?” ©Tateno Makoto/Libre Publishing, 2010.

Queer Readings of BL  71

Figure 6.2  “Nakuna koibito”©Umetaro/Libre Publishing, 2010. Table 6.1  Self-identified gay characters in Magazine BE-BOY from 2004–2011. 1) Published Date 2) Number of Episodes Contained 3) Number of Episodes Featuring Gay Protagonists 1) 2004, Nov. 2004, Dec. 2005, Jan. 2005, Feb. 2005, Mar. 2005, Apr. 2005, May 2005, Jun. 2005, Jul. 2005, Aug.

2) 14 12 14 15 15 20 16 15 15 17

3) 2 1 1 5 1 3 0 2 1 3

1) 2005, Nov. 2005, Oct. 2005, Dec. 2006, Jan. 2006, Feb. 2006, Apr. 2006, May 2006, Jul. 2006, Aug. 2006, Oct. 2007, Jan. 2007, Feb. 2007, Mar.

2) 16 14 17 14 14 15 12 19 18 16 19 15 17

3) 3 3 3 3 1 1 1 1 3 2 0 1 1 (Continued)

72  Kazumi Nagaike 1) 2007, May 2007, Jun. 2007, Jul. 2007, Aug. 2007, Oct. 2007, Nov. 2007, Dec. 2008, Jan. 2008, Feb. 2008, Mar. 2008, Apr. 2008, May 2008, Jun. 2008, Jul 2008, Aug. 2008, Sep. 2008, Dec. 2009, Jan. 2009, Feb. 2009, Mar. 2009, May 2009, Jun.

2) 15 14 15 14 14 13 16 14 15 14 18 14 19 16 15 12 17 14 17 19 16 17

3) 0 3 2 4 2 1 5 1 3 3 1 3 0 1 1 2 4 1 1 3 4 4

1) 2009, Aug. 2009, Oct. 2009, Nov. 2009, Dec. 2010, Jan. 2010, Feb. 2010, Mar. 2010, Apr. 2010, May 2010, Jun. 2010, Jul. 2010, Aug. 2010, Sep. 2010, Oct. 2010, Nov. 2011, Jan. 2010, Dec. 2011, Feb. 2011, Mar. 2011, Apr. 2011, May 2011, Jun.

2) 16 13 13 16 15 15 13 14 16 17 16 19 20 17 17 20 17 20 19 18 19 16

3) 1 0 2 3 2 4 3 3 3 4 4 4 3 3 2 2 2 5 3 2 2 2

NOTES 1. Such terms as yaoi (erotic boys’ love fan fiction), tanbi (aesthetic fiction), shonen ai (fiction about boys’ love), and june (the type of fiction found in the manga magazine June) are also used for this genre, and each term needs to be spelled out with specific historiographic implications. However, in this chapter, I use the term BL as an umbrella term to refer to the tradition of Japanese women’s fantasies of male homosexuality. See Yukari Fujimoto (2007) for further historical context of these terms. 2. Heterosexual male readers of BL in Japan are also sufficiently acknowledged so as to have their own specific label: fudanshi (“rotten men”), which can be paired with a previously media-coined term, fujoshi (“rotten women”). Critics such as Taimatsu Yoshimoto and the present author have attempted to unveil the specific motifs, narratives and aesthetics in BL, which attract some heterosexual male readers to BL stories.

REFERENCES Azuma, H. (2009). Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota.

Queer Readings of BL  73 Bhabha, H. (1994). The Location of Culture. London: Routledge. Fujimoto, Y. (2007). “Shonen ai/yaoi•BL: 2007nen genzai no shiten kara” (Shonen ai/yaoi BL: From the Present (2007) Perspective), Eureka (December Special Issue): 36–47. Ishida, H. (2007). “‘Hottoite kudasai’ to iu hyomei wo megutte: yaoi/bl no jiritsusei to hyosho no odatsu (Leave Me Alone).” Eureka (December Special Issue): 114–123. Kaneda, J., Miura S., Saito M., and Yamamoto F. (2007). “2007nen no BL kai wo megutte: soshite ‘fujoshi’ toha dareka?” (Concerning the Situations of BL in 2007 and What “Fujoshi” Are?). Eureka (December Special Issue): 8–25. Lewis, R. (1995). Gendering Orientalism: Race, Gender and Representation. ­London: Routledge. Lunsing, W. (2006). “Yaoi Ronso: Discussing Depictions of Male Homosexuality in Japanese Girls’ Comics, Gay Comics and Gay Pornography.” Intersections: ­Gender, History and Culture in the Asian Context 12. http://intersections.anu. edu.au/issue12/lunsing.html McLelland, M., Nagaike, K., Suganuma, K., and Welker, J. (eds. 2013). Boys Love Manga and Beyond: History, Culture, and Community in Japan. Jackson: University Press of Mississippi. Mizoguchi, A. (2000). “Homofobikku na homo, ai yue no reipu, soshite kuia na rezubian: saikin no yaoi tekisuto wo bunseki suru” (Homophobic Homos, Rape with Love, and Queer Lesbians: Analysis of Present Yaoi Stories). Queer Japan 2: 193–211. Mizoguchi, A. (2004). “Sore wa, dare no, donna, ‘riaru’?: yaoi no gensetsu kukan wo seiri suru kokoromi” (What Kinds of and Whose “reality” are they? An Attempt to Systematize Yaoi Discourse). Image and Gender 4: 27–53. Nakajima, A. (1991). Komyunikeshon fuzen shokogun (The Syndrome of Imperfect Communication). Tokyo: Chikuma shobo. Nakajima, A. (1998). Tanatosu no kodomotachi: kajo tekio no seitaigaku (The ­Children of Thanatos: The Ecology of excessive adaptation). Tokyo: Chikuma shobo. Pagliassotti, D. (2009). “GloBLisation and Hybridisation: Publishers’ Strategies for Bringing Boys’ Love to the United States,” Intersections:Gender and Sexuality in Asia and the Pacific 20. http://intersections.anu.edu.au/issue20/pagliassotti.htm Ragawa, M. (1998). New York New York. 4 vols. Tokyo: Hakusensha. Sato, M. (1996). “Shojo manga to homophobia” (Shojo Manga and Homophobia). Kuia Sutadiizu Henshu Iinkai (ed.) Kuia Sutadiizu ‘96. Tokyo: Nanatsumori shokan. Sugiura, Y. (2006). Fujoshi ka suru Sekai: Higashiikebukuro no otaku joshi tachi (The World Becoming Fujoshi: Otaku Girls in Higashiikebukuro). Tokyo: Chuokoronsinsha. Tanigawa, T. (1993). “Josei no shonenai shoko ni tsuite II: shikisha no kenkai to, feminizumu ni aru kanosei” (Concerning Women’s Inclination for Shonenai II: Researcher’s Understanding and Possibility of Feminism). Joseigaku Nenpo 134: 66–79. Ueno, C. (1998). Hatsujo sochi: erosu no shinario (The Mechanisms of Sexual Excitement: Erotic Scenarios). Tokyo: Chikuma shobo. Yoshimoto, T. (2008). Fudanshi ni kiku (Asking Fudanshi). Self-publication. Yoshimoto, T. (2010). Fudajinshi ni kiku 2 (Asking Fudanshi 2). Self-publication.

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Part II

Global Perspectives on Shojo and Shojo Manga New Approaches

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7 Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia Cheng Tju Lim

INTRODUCTION In the near future, the denizens of an unnamed city are divided between those who live in flooded houses (lower class) and those who live in flying houses (elite class). As a result of an ecological disaster in the past, the city is flooded and those who live on the water depend on fishing for their livelihood. The adults who have spent too much time in the water have mutated, developing webbed hands. For a family living in a flooded house, a mother’s hope for her daughter Manee is to do well in school, get a good job that pays well, and buy a flying house in the future. She does not want her child to grow webbing between her fingers, as has happened to her. In another future, the city-state of Singapore has reached its ideal of being an air-conditioned nation. Everything is sanitized as the government has ­succeeded in removing all the vices that corrupted the city previously. To make Singaporeans more hardworking, the laziness gene can be eliminated in babies before birth. The prime minister of Singapore in 2110 looks like Lee Kuan Yew, the first prime minister of Singapore from 1959 to 1990 (and senior minister and minister mentor until 2011). His message to the people is, “the more children, the merrier,” as Singapore needs more people to drive its economy. The government uses a popular toy, a rabbit robot called Robbit, to send subliminal messages to children watching it on TV to have, well, more children. The worst threat to Singapore is Singlish, the ­colloquial English ­spoken by Singaporeans; the National Defense Agency has a unit monitoring the usage of the Forbidden Tongue and will arrest anyone who speaks it. A young Muay Thai boxer is facing the fight of his life. But he was more fearful of the dental checkup he had in the morning. Two molars had to go, but he decided to delay the extraction by getting the dentist to crown them. Not that that is going to help much when he gets into the ring … Closer to our time, an Indonesian family takes a road trip to East Java as the grandfather searches for and fails to find the big trees of his youth. As Indonesia is modernized, its own people find the country becoming more commercialized and touristy. But still this group of travelers manages to find family time as well as a heritage that binds the different races together—an important reminder for the children, the future of the family.

78  Cheng Tju Lim These are just four of the stories drawn and/or written by women in Liquid City Volume 2 (Liew & Lim, 2010), an anthology of Southeast Asian comic stories I co-edited. More women artists contributed to this volume than to the first volume, a sign that more women are picking up the pen to write and draw their own comic stories in Southeast Asia. We are witnessing this phenomenon in other parts of the world as well. The American comic book industry is largely male dominated. At the same time, female writers and artists have played an important role in ­American comic books (Robbins 1993, 1999). With respect to the other parts of the world, John Lent has proven that women cartoonists are active in China, the Philippines, Hong Kong, Pakistan, Malaysia, Cambodia, India, Kenya, Turkey, South Africa, Poland, Macedonia, and Sweden, among other countries (Lent 2011). In Japan, although postwar shojo manga (girls’ comics) were popularized by Osamu Tezuka, some of the best works are by female creators such as Moto Hagio and Keiko Takemiya. The popularity of shojo manga in Japan and beyond has led to studies in this field by both Japanese researchers and those outside Japan. ­Pioneer scholars include Fujimoto Yukari and Fusami Ogi (Yukari, 2011; Ogi, 2008). Writings about shojo manga in English are nascent, with new works published only in the past few years by Jennifer S. Prough and Deborah Shamoon (Prough, 2010; Shamoon, 2012). Recently, a group of Japanese manga researchers, including Ogi, initiated a project researching female-oriented manga beyond Japan. To date, two conferences have been held to discuss this topic: in Singapore in 2011 and in Hanoi, Vietnam, in 2012. The Singapore conference heard papers on women cartoonists from Malaysia, Indonesia, Thailand, and Cambodia, with participation from female artists from Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand, and Singapore. The Hanoi conference had papers on female comic artists from Singapore, Indonesia, and Malaysia. I was involved in helping to organize the Singapore conference and co-editing the collection of papers that came from it, which was published in the International Journal of Comic Art (Ogi, Lim, & Berndt, 2011). For the Hanoi conference, I delivered a paper on female artists from Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia. Although Lent has published a broad survey of women comic artists in Asia, there is a need to drill deeper into specific regions and countries (Lent 2011). This short chapter will present some observations about women comic artists in Southeast Asia, based on my involvement in the above-­ mentioned projects as editor and researcher. This chapter discusses the comics drawn by female artists in Southeast Asia and presents the themes and concerns of their work. I examine recent comics by female artists in parts of the world other than Japan. As an ­educator/editor/researcher from Singapore, I have chosen Southeast Asian comics as the regional focus for this chapter. In Southeast Asia, stories by female artists go beyond women’s issues, as they also explore political (e.g., environmental) and personal themes in their comics.

Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia   79 THEMES—POLITICAL AND PERSONAL There are more females than males in Southeast Asia, but that does not translate into more women artists working in the comics industry; as in America, the industry is largely male dominated. Nonetheless, this picture has improved over the past few years as the popularity of manga has led to more people reading comics and encouraged more artists (both male and female) to emerge. As exemplified in the four stories described above from Liquid City, ­Volume  2, two broad themes characterize the comic stories drawn and/or written by women in Southeast Asia—the political and the personal. A sea change has taken place in the political and social conditions of Southeast Asia in the last eight years. The 2008 financial crisis destabilized governments and societies globally, and many Southeast Asian economies entered into recession in 2009 and 2010. Protests took place in Malaysia and ­Thailand. Thailand saw the election of a female prime minister, ­Yingluck Shinawatra. Myanmar held its general election in 2012, which finally allowed Aung San Suu Kyi to enter parliament. Singapore held its general election in 2011, and more opposition politicians were voted in. The comic stories by female artists coming out of Southeast Asia reflect some of these political and social shifts. THE POLITICAL “Flooded House, Flying House,” by Thailand’s Shari Chankhamma, is a commentary on the deep-rooted social divide between the rich and the poor, which has found expression in the antigovernment protests in Bangkok in the last few years. Although set in the future and presented as a ­science fiction story about a mutant mother’s aspirations for her human child, “Flooded House, Flying House” underscores this social divide in Thailand. The only way to get out of the poverty cycle and to improve one’s social mobility is through education. However, the child, Manee, does not want to attend school because she feels discriminated against. She is the only one in her class who lives in a flooded house, while the rest of her classmates live in flying houses. So although there is an avenue to rise above one’s social class, it is not easy for a child like Manee, who is constantly ridiculed by her classmates. This story is also prescient of the floods in Thailand in 2011, as it was written and drawn just one year earlier. The Thai military coup in 2014, which deposed Prime Minister Yingluck Shinawatra, shows that the political drama is not yet over. “The Adventures of a Robbit” by Christiyani Kabul is a political satire of the various government campaigns in Singapore. Kabul is originally from Indonesia and came to study in Singapore in her teens. She studied at the top high schools in Singapore and went through the compulsory National Education (NE) program of nation-building prescribed by the Singapore

80  Cheng Tju Lim Ministry of Education. Biting the hand that fed her, she made fun of the NE in Singapore schools, which she found to be propagandistic. In the story, a robbit (robotic rabbit) accidentally downloads Singlish, the colloquial English spoken by Singaporeans, which is banned in the future. After it is captured by the National Defense Agency, the rebel robbit is lobotomized and brainwashed (literally) to make it a patriotic robbit. It is tested by being asked the sixth NE message. Robbit gets it right by answering, “We have confidence in our future.” From spouting Singlish to spouting NE messages, robbit became the new mascot for fertility in Singapore. Drawn in a flat, South Park-style of cartooning, “The Adventures of a Robbit” is typical of the in-your-face type of satire for a country that has lost its tradition of political comics and cartoons (Lim, 1997). More subtle is “Win Some Lose Some” by the Singaporean husband and wife team of Don and Katherine Low. Don is the artist and Katherine wrote the story. A surface reading of the story is that it is a humorous O. Henrytype tale with a twist ending—the wimp at the dentist is actually a champion Muay Thai boxer. Low has set up her story to show the boxer is not what he seems to be. She questions the notion of male masculinity in modern society or, more specifically, in Singapore society. There is a tradition of using the boxing ring as a setting of politics in Singapore’s political cartooning (Lim 1997). Singapore’s general elections have often seen walkovers for the ruling political party as the opposition is not strong enough to challenge it. Some young politicians get shooed into parliament without a fight. Showing the young boxer to be such a wimp and yet going on to win the match may be a veiled comment on the present political candidates in Singapore. In Southeast Asia political commentary often needs to be veiled, as crackdown on dissent occurs when the country is in turmoil, as occurred in the 2014 Thai military coup. The above three examples show that female artists/writers in Southeast Asia dare to voice their opinions about issues such as politics, the environment, and education, albeit in a satirical style that tackles the issues indirectly. However, other stories by female artists in Southeast Asia are more about personal matters. This issue will be discussed in the next section. THE PERSONAL “Journey to East Java” by Indonesian Sheila Rooswitha Putri, was originally published in her collection of short stories, Certia si Lala, published by Indonesian independent comic publisher, Curhat Anak Bangsa (CAB), in 2009. It was translated into English for publication in Liquid City Volume 2, offering English readers in Southeast Asia and North America a chance to sample the emerging graphic diary trend in Indonesia. This story exemplifies the second main theme that can be observed in the stories of female comic artists in Southeast Asia—the personal.

Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia   81 The story of a family holiday, “Journey to East Java” is filled with the g­ entle humor and simple observations of life and family typical of the graphic diary stories put out by CAB. The story is told largely from the point of view of the children in the family as they learn about the history and heritage of their country as well as meet the extended family living in Central and East Java.

Figure 7.1  “Journey to East Java”.

The graphic diary genre began in Indonesia with Rooswitha Putri and Dwinita (Tita) Larasati (Larasati, 2011). These diaries are autobiographical stories about the daily lives of female Indonesians. In 2008, Larasati and Rony Amdani set up CAB to publish graphic diaries. Their first titles were Curhat Tita by Tita and Cerita si Lala by Rooswitha Putri, which inspired younger female artists such as Lia Hartati to create their own graphic diaries.

82  Cheng Tju Lim Hartati works mainly for NGOs but has a short story in Nanny, a compilation of stories by comic artists in Bandung for the 24 Hour Comics Day challenge in 2011. Her story, “Pecah Telor” (“The Egg Is Broken”), is about how an uncle’s death influenced her brother’s decision to marry his ­girlfriend and all the shenanigans she had to put up with in the preparation for a complicated Javanese wedding, with issues of upholding the family honor at stake. The story is a humorous rumination on death, love, and marriage, and not necessarily in that order. Graphic diaries are personal stories female artists in Indonesia choose to share with a wider audience. Although not explicitly feminist, the telling of these stories is a form of empowerment for these artists, a way of expressing that their experiences as mothers, daughters, and artists matter in a country that is still largely patriarchal. As a form of comparison, there are similarities between Indonesia’s graphic diary genre, the essay manga genre in Japan (Sugawa-Shimada, 2011; Nakagaki, 2012), and the autobiographical graphic novels of ­American female artists like Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home (2006) and Carol Tyler’s You’ll Never Know (2009). These artists tell autobiographical stories in an extended essay/diary form. For some of them, telling their personal stories is a therapeutic way of dealing with family conflicts; therefore, these comics fall within the category of what Hillary Chute described as “reimagining trauma,” whereby artists return literararily to events to re-view them and make sense of them (Chute, 2010). The personal stories of female artists in Southeast Asia as typified by the graphic diary genre from Indonesia can be seen as part of a larger trend of autobiographical stories by female artists in other countries like Japan and America. However, as the award-winning American graphic novel, ­Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis (2003), has shown, the personal can mix with the political to tell a powerful story of growing up and experiencing revelations. We find similar examples in Southeast Asia; two such stories are discussed next. THE POLITICAL AND PERSONAL Another theme emerging in Southeast Asian comics by female artists is the mixing of political and personal themes—sometimes the political can only come through the personal. Tita Larasati, a pioneer of the graphic diary genre in Indonesia, is a prime example of that approach. Larasati’s comics are among the most cosmopolitan in this survey of Southeast Asian comics by female artists. She deals with issues of migration, race and memory, and political changes in Indonesia. Curhat Tita and Transition (which was done for the 24 Hour Comics Day challenge in 2006) collectively deal with Tita Larasati’s 10-year stay in the Netherlands. Her story begins with her life as a postgraduate student

Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia   83 in 1998, moves on to her situation as a mother of two young ­children, and brings the family back to Bandung in 2007. It is a tale filled with simple observations of life such as train rides, dealing with changes, and recognizing the universality of our individual experiences. Being a stranger in a strange land, Tita tells a story that, though remaining personal like Rooswitha’s, is able to transcend its locale and social ­situations. It is not just about an Indonesian getting married and becoming a mother in the Netherlands or a foreign student adjusting to life in a new country. Being away from home at a time of great changes for her country, Tita reflects poignantly on where Indonesia is heading. “Upsetting Thoughts #1, 2 and 3” (in Curhat Tita) are short pieces that sum up the problems plaguing Indonesia: the rise of fundamentalism, the inflexibility of the law, and the erosion of diversity. Tita left Indonesia in February 1998, just months after the rupiah plummeted due to the 1997 Asian financial crisis. A few months later, in May 1998, the country erupted into one of its worst riots, which also saw the stepping down of its strongman president, Suharto, after a reign of 32 years. With the rise of Islamic fundamentalism in the 21st century and the Jemmah Islamiyah (JI) active in Indonesia, Tita was naturally concerned about what her country was coming to. She asked in the comics, “Whatever happened to our unity in diversity?”, which evokes the founding principles of Indonesia: unity, social justice, and democracy (Vickers, 2013). Tita continues to explore the personal with the political in her new work, “Bloemen Blij, Plukken Wij” (title of a Dutch children song). For the forthcoming Liquid City, Volume 3, to be published by Image Comics (I am the chief regional managing editor), she contributed a story about finding out she was part Chinese, a fact hidden by her grandmother as a result of the 1965 anti-Chinese riots (Vickers, 2013). Tita thought she was pure Javanese, and she remembered how her classmates made fun of the Chinese in school. “It wasn’t hostile, but it sure wasn’t a pure jest either. We discriminated casually, if such thing is possible.” She found out about her Chinese roots in the early 1990s when she was a young adult, when her grandmother brought the family to pay respects to her ancestors. That changed her notions about racial purity (as a child, she thought she had a “pure Javanese bloodline”) and set in motion her decision to study overseas and eventually marry a “foreigner.” It is a very poignant story, which Tita had chosen to tell in spite of the fact that anti-Chinese sentiments in Indonesia have not disappeared. Many Chinese were attacked and killed in the 1998 riots (Vickers, 2013). “Bloemen Blij, Plukken Wij” is similar to works of another mixed-race female artist from Malaysia. Sarah Joan Mokhtar was born in 1983 and at the age of 15 was one of the youngest comics artists ever to be published in Malaysia. Her early influences include the Malaysian comics artist, Lat, and shonen manga like Dragon Ball. She stopped drawing when she went to university and got married soon after (Acosta, 2011).

84  Cheng Tju Lim

Figure 7.2  “Bloemen Blij, Plukken Wij” (title of a Dutch children song).

In 2006, Mokhtar participated in the first 24 Hour Comics Day in Malaysia and drew a comic story called “Rojak,” an autobiographical story about her growing up as a child of mixed parentage (her dad is Malay and her mom is Irish). She was four months pregnant then with her first child, and thoughts about her child’s future growing up in Malaysia obviously occupied her mind when she drew “Rojak.” Her husband is Burmese, so that makes her child only one quarter Malay. Ever since Malaysia gained its independence from the British in 1957, race issues have dominated its political landscape. One of the pacts made between the different races at the point of independence was for the Malays (the dominant race in Malaysia) to hold the political reins of the country while the other races (Chinese and Indian) were to be minor partners in the power sharing. The Malays were given special privileges in the political and economic fields. Some 50 years later, race and Malay rights remain contentious issues in Malaysia at each of its general elections. Malaysian political cartoonist Zunar pointed out that the two most pressing problems for the country were corruption and the race issue (Lim, 2012). While “Rojak” can be read as a cutesy coming-of-age story quite typical of shojo manga, the motivations behind it are more complex. In “Rojak,”

Stories by Female Comic Artists in Southeast Asia   85 Mokhtar is harking back to the ideals of Malaysia being a multiracial society, an ideal that the founding fathers of independent Malaysia had envisioned when they negotiated their independence from the British. But realpolitik prevailed, and the Bumiputra (sons of the soil) rule, via affirmative action policies favoring the Malays, has become more entrenched in Malaysia today (Cheah, 2002). While it is a known strategy for second-generation feminists to choose to talk about the political through the personal, it is unlikely that Southeast Asian female artists are strongly influenced by feminism. Tita is not influenced by feminist theories; it is just natural for her to tell her stories this way. Tita relayed this point to me in a personal conversation in Singapore in 2012. I feel that I was able to learn more about her political views by being in a personal setting with her. CONCLUDING REMARKS There is room for future researchers to explore other stories by female artists in Southeast Asia, such as those working within the gothic genre—such as Azisa Noor (Indonesia), Hu Jingxuan, and Foo Swee Chin and Ng Xiao Yan (Singapore). These artists redefined the meaning of gothic for the region, but this is not within the scope of discussion for this chapter. My intent was to explore the political and personal themes in some of the stories by female artists in Southeast Asia, especially the potent combination of the personal and the political. By way of a conclusion, I would offer another personal-political story drawn by a young female artist from Indonesia. In 2011, Stephani Soejono participated in the 24 Hour Comics Day challenge in Bandung. I collaborated with her on this story about the sense of dislocation that an ­Indonesian maid felt when she came to work in Singapore. We discussed the story we wanted to do a few days before the event. I sent her the script on the day of the challenge, and she spent the next 24 hours drawing it. During our discussion, we realized that both of us had nannies when we were young. We started to wonder how the nannies took care of their own children if they had to work away from home. Media reports have highlighted the abuse of foreign maids by their employers and also cases of maids harming their employers after being abused. It was this social issue that we decided to tackle in our story called “Nanny.” Comics by female artists in Southeast Asia have the ability to address sociopolitical issues and personal concerns of the individuals. The potential is there not just to address country-specific problems, but also issues affecting the region such as the issue of migrant workers. By working across countries and with other writers (as in the case of “Nanny” and “Win Some Lose Some”), more ground could be covered in telling stories about life and living in Southeast Asia.

86  Cheng Tju Lim REFERENCES

Books and Articles Acosta, A. M. (2011). “Women ‘using manga to tell stories’: A Workshop on the ‘Glocality’ of Manga in Southeast Asia.” International Journal of Comic Art 13(2): 179–197. Cheah, B. K. (2002). Malaysia: The Making of a Nation. Singapore: Institute of Southeast Asian Studies. Chute, H. (2010). Graphic Women: Life Narratives and Contemporary Comic. New York: Columbia University Press. Larasati, D. (2011). “So How Was Your Day? The Emergence of Graphic Diary and Female Artists in Indonesia.” International Journal of Comic Art 13(2): 134–142. Lent, J. A. (2011). “Yes, There Are Women Cartoonists: Snippets from Those I Have Interviewed.” International Journal of Comic Art 13(2): 7–31. Liew, S., and Lim, C. T. (eds.). (2010). Liquid City Volume Two. Berkeley, CA: Image Comics. Lim, C. T. (1997). “Singapore Political Cartooning.” Southeast Asian Journal of Social Science 25(1): 125–150. Lim, C. T. (2012). “An Interview with Malaysia Political Cartoonist Zunar.” ­International Journal of Comic Art 14(1): 554–561. (Also see http://singaporecomix. blogspot.sg/2011/09/zunar.html.) Nakagaki, K. (2012). “Expanding Female Manga Market: Shungiku Uchida and the Experience of the Autobiographical Essay.” International Journal of Comic Art 14(1): 236–250. Ogi, F. (2008). “Beyond Shoujo, Blending Gender.” In Jeet Heer and Kent Worcester (eds.), A Comics Studies Reader. Oxford: University Press of Mississippi. Ogi, F., Lim, C. T., and Berndt, J. (eds.). (2011). “Women’s Manga Beyond Japan: Contemporary Comics as Cultural Crossroads in Asia.” International Journal of Comic Art 13 (2): 1–199. Prough, J. S. (2010). Straight from the Heart: Gender, Intimacy and the Cultural Production of Shojo Manga. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Robbins, T. (1993). A Century of Women Cartoonists. Princeton, WI: Kitchen Sink Press. Robbins, T. (1999). From Girls to Grriz: A History of Women’s Comics from Teens to Zines. San Francisco, CA: Chronicle Books. Shamoon, D. (2012). Passionate Friendship: The Aesthetics of Girls’ Culture in Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Sugawa-Shimada, A. (2011). “Functions and Possibilities of Female ‘Essay Manga’: Resistance, Negotiation, and Pleasure.” International Journal of Comic Art 13 (2): 103–115. Vickers, A. (2013). A Modern History of Indonesia (2nd ed.). New York: Cambridge University Press. Yukari, F. (2011). “Historical Shojo Manga: On Women’s Alleged Dislike.” ­International Journal of Comic Art 13 (2): 87–102 (translated by Jaqueline Berndt).

8 Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man Frenchy Lunning

INTRODUCTION For those who (as I did in a Book-Off store in Kyoto some years ago) open a shojo manga to discover the radically feminized subjects, bizarrely altered panel structures, “emo” (the slang word for over-emotional, sentimental indications) narrations, and the gender characterizations represented through a sugary femininity—all of which are to be found in the massive amount and variety of manga under the category of “shojo manga”—they will understand that something quite profound and subversive is going on in this work. As part of this investigation into the complex meanings and structures to be discovered in shojo manga, one particular concept emerged for me: the shojo herself as a kyara. In discussing Tezuka Osamu’s purported demise in Tezuka Is Dead (2005), Ito Go describes a particular phenomenon he locates in Tezuka’s work and delineates certain peculiarities that concern the character and kyara in his manga. This term, kyara, is derived from kyarakutaa—the ­Japanese pronunciation for the English word “character.” Thomas LaMarre suggests that the term kyara came into use in the 1990s as a general term that described the m ­ ultitude of toys, games, models, and figurines derived from characters in ­Japanese manga, anime, or gaming narratives. Ito, however, used the term in a more specific sense: “For Ito, kyarakutaa is the limited term, while kyara implies something that is not only larger, but also ontologically prior to kyarakutaa. He writes: ‘kyara comes before kyarataa, and imparts a ‘sense of existence’ (sonzaikan) and a ‘sense of life’ (seimeikan)” (LaMarre, 2011, p. 129). It is the essentialized, pared-down, and iconic kyara, which is understood as a “quasi-personality” and ultimately as a “proto-character,” acknowledging the kyara’s position as both preliminary and primary to the character. Further, according to Ito, proto-characters are shaped by iconic drawings, whereas characters are shaped by narrative, and, therefore, are specifically ensconced within the narrative. As Ito states, it is the difference of “wavering between being just a bunch of strokes drawn on paper [kyara] and giving the realistic impression of a human personality [kyarakutaa]” (Ito, 2005, pp. 107–113). The kyara was free to appear within other varied ­contexts and is able to remain robustly in existence outside any narrative. The shojo character of shojo manga is an excellent example of a kyara. The shojo has eclipsed her manga form to become a complex, multilayered, transnational compendium of commodities that circulate in the realms of

88  Frenchy Lunning advertising and packaging, illustration and art, toys, and girls’ accessories. ­Virtually anything that may appeal especially to young women may be marked by this aesthetic referring back to the shojo of Japanese anime and manga. This ­proliferation of commodities is so pervasive, so uniquely adaptable to global cultures and subjects, that it has saturated global markets. Yet her “meaning” remains elusive. Her appeal in all her multitudinous manifestations is instant, her form and visage ubiquitous, and her recognition immediate, all of which are characteristics of the kyara. And yet there is an uncanny sense of absence in her presence as kyara, a lack of a center to this constellation, an uneasy sense of a ghostly presence lurking behind the mask of her frivolous ubiquity and cloying innocence. That is to say, although we are very familiar with the shojo as a character in a manga narrative or a commodified icon or logo, we lose that sense of identity discovered within the manga narrative context to a more universalized but nonspecific nonidentity. Instead, this “ghostly presence” of the shojo icon reveals her specificity to be only a constellation of mere characteristics: fragments of personality traits, physical attributes, tendencies, mannerisms, idiosyncrasies, and beloved quirks. She defies all specificity, with one key exception: her entire index of traits is specific to the young female, and that, as it will turn out, is also where the potency and potential lie.

Figure 8.1  Merchandise representing various kawaii (cute) shojo cultural subjects: shojo manga heroines, bishonen (“beautiful boys”), geisha, Takarazuka idols, Betty Boop, “Kewpie” dolls, and “Hello Kitty” all mixed together, and found in many small arcade shops in Japanese cities. This is a shop in the Sanjo Arcade, Kyoto in 2008. Photography by author.

Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man  89 The most easily accessible and by far the most popular example of the shojo kyara is Hello Kitty. Not even an entire body, she is a mere blockhead with minimal features, but she has generated a vast commercial empire of signs that cover all aspects of material expression: from keychains and keitai (cell phone) charms to dollies and dildos. She has no origin story; in fact, she has no story at all. Yet she is ubiquitous, a single example in an increasingly vast compendium of shojo appearances. As she is mentioned in many scholarly discussions of the kyara, it suggests that it was perhaps her profound and global presence, in addition to Ito’s book, that has propelled the kyara into the discourse. This discussion presents the multiple iterations of the kyara as a curious duality, as a doubling, or a binary structure in which ambiguity and hidden potential may lurk. This ambiguity exists as a strange surplus or trace that is scattered about the literature, and it is this strange surplus or trace that will lead to one of the clues of the shojo kyara formation, found under a pile of petticoats in modernism’s closet of grand narratives. Shinji Miyadai, in a rough translation of a review of the work of Taiwanese artist Hou I Ting, states: “Regardless of what I try to identify it with, I cannot erase the duality of kyara and character. Character can be glimpsed behind kyara. This gives the work an obscene quality” (Miyadai, 2008). Miyadai goes on to use the metaphor of inadvertently seeing the face of an “unpainted” woman—whom I believe he is positing as “modernity”—yet initially she is perceived as very heavily made-up, looking like a postmodern fashion plate. Seeing the unpainted face of the character emerge suddenly through the heavily made-up face of the kyara seems to serve to startle, embarrass, or at least present a moment of the uncanny for Miyadai. As he positions the kyara as replaceable, but the character as irreplaceable, he seems to be seeing a sort of potential in the uncertain gap between the transience of the ever-moving kyara and the solidity and mortality of the singular character, who is lodged in death—that is, in the case of the shojo, lodged within the confines of the manga narrative in which it is always ­possible that the shojo herself could die as part of the narrative. As Miyadai suggests: “the point is, the obscenity of ‘the dead body glimpsed behind the living thing’ is equated with joyous potential … that in all living bodies are the signs of a dead body” (Miyadai, 2008). This sense of a multiplicity within—or more explicitly, overlaid on characters—suggests that Miyadai detects the trace of the potential character beneath the iconic but flattened kyara, who, according to Ito in his d ­ iscussion of manga’s contemporary structure, and in a reversal of Miyadai’s explanation, cites the evolution of kyara to character, in which the character becomes a character only once the kyara dies, or more succinctly, is subordinated into narrative. Yet Miyadai’s sense of the obscene suggests his own generational longing for the loss of certain of modernism’s grand ­narratives—in particular, the lack of the depth formation. That he can see the ghostly inhabitant of the character beneath the postmodern flattened cosmetic seems to reverse Ito’s proto-character position as preliminary, and Miyadai mourns the loss of the depth model, judging it obscene.

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Figure 8.2  Hou I-Ting, “Usurper No.1” Usurper Series, C-print /135x98 cm / 2004~2005), Taipei, Taiwan. As the artist herself states: “Inside and outside the screen are two subjects both called “I” [who] collaborated in one scene. The inside and outside subjects and inner and outer interfaces are so close that they could almost touch each other. Two different worlds coexist in one work: one is outside the mirror and one is inside the mirror. The mirror symbolizes a kind of interface, a computer screen and a channel that leads to real or unreal worlds. [In] [t]his work both the main subject and the other imply [that] the changing under this circumstance is unrestrained.”

Ito’s project partially acknowledges this generational longing of the modern men of manga fandom and its consequences. His project is aimed at recovering those denied origins that were fragmented by generations of ­Japanese, predominantly male scholars who, perhaps like Miyadai, could only refer to their own generational manga origins. Inoue suggests that Ito actually “asserts that [the kyara] transcends the boundaries of historical context and that it is a fundamental element in the structural decipherment of the Manga world.” That is, Ito is simply saying that the character, lodged within the

Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man  91 narrative, remains within the historical and cultural context of that era, but the kyara, “disengages from the original work, floating into other works … and breaking away from the Manga world itself.”1 The potential glimpse of the flatness in postmodern representations of the contemporary manga shojo is a potential shimmering of death perhaps, but it also comes with a distinct whiff of transcendence. For Miyadai, there are indeed “various concealed multiplicities. [But, as he reminds us] it is possible to slide back the cover and look on the other side. … Searching for the original, unpainted face is futile. This being the case, all that remains is the obscenity of glimpsing the ‘make-up concealed behind the make-up.’” 2 This is a strange bit of trace indeed: Ito sees the potential in sliding back the cover of the postmodern, and although he realizes the impossibility of recovering the past, yet he wants to look, wants to recover at least the ­transcendent whiff, wants to gaze at the cadaver of history. Marc Steinberg, though not specifically calling forth Ito’s term of the kyara, still refers to the doubled—or the “dual”—formation of the character in his work on character merchandizing, much of which is based on mangalike forms. He seems to define the kyara through its sense of connectivity. He describes it this way: The character is a doubled object: it is that which is incarnated in material form, as well as that immaterial form which facilitates the connection of these material instances. This doubled nature of the character allows it to function as a network-forming agent, continually generating new images and things. (Steinberg, 2010, p. 211) This doubled formation is but one of Steinberg’s five elements of character merchandizing. The balance of the elements concerns the visual consistency and resemblance across character formations: “The character operates within the logic of resemblance. … The simplicity of most characters—being non-photorealistic, iconic entities such as Mickey Mouse or Pikachu— enables their ease of translation across media forms” (Steinberg, 2010, p. 212). Clearly, this is kyarataa, as Ito would have it. But later Steinberg refers to a particular toy I believe is a kyara formation, which he calls “the platform:” The platform art toy undermines this visual resemblance by introducing a gap between form and surface design. Instead of the “one character = one form” principle, the platform toy substitutes the principle of ‘one (plat)form = infinite (non)characters’. While the platform itself is recognizable in all of its incarnations—even despite the occasionally significant modifications of its form … there is no single character one can associate with it. Rather, the platform is the basis for a multiplicity of designs, and a multiplicity of characters and non-characters. (Steinberg, 2010, p. 217)

92  Frenchy Lunning Moreover, Steinberg inserts a transcendent potential in the gap produced between blank shape and inscribed features. It represents the insertion of imagination and art wherein a character is imaginarily created from the floating cultural kyara potential understood in the mind, and the act of creation as the character is produced on the surface of the shape. As Steinberg states: “The gap the platform introduces between toy shape and character has a second major repercussion: the relation between the character and the world becomes a site of experimentation. Some artists take advantage of this gap between character and form to inscribe both character image and world on the very same surface, underscoring an understanding of the platform as dynamic surface rather than character” (Steinberg, 2010, p. 217). In Steinberg’s evocation of “world” I suggest is the evocation of narrative, in this case, specifically manga narrative. So he is addressing the gap or distance between the kyara or “non-character” and the kyarataa or worldcharacter of narrative. And within that gap, he perceives a “site of experimentation” or creativity: a transcendence as a vertical trajectory into the artistic creation as a potential of agency. In that infinitesimal gap where the imagination creates a stage on which any number of characteristics can emerge from the cultural playbook, individual determination is free to imagine any number of dangerous characters. And the doubling—so marked by all of these scholars—propels the gothic into the gap in the sense of the uncanny that is produced from the doubling process. Once again the trace squeezes us back into that gap between the kyara and the character, regardless of which came first, and we again are forced to confront the idea that what was in modernity a singular entity has now split, sundering narrative from the life of the character and creating a collection of essentialized characteristics condensed into an iconic ethos, and indeed, a mysterious new duality. Azuma Hiroki, in his famous work on manga/anime otaku (obsessive) fandom, also refers to the duality of the kyara formation through his articulation of the “double-layered structure, and explains the process of kyara as a production of characteristics—or moe-elements:3 the surface layer of otaku culture is covered in simulacra, or derivative works. But in the deep inner layer lies the database of chara [kyara]-moe-elements” (Azumi, 2009, p. 58), placing the kyara once again as a proto-character—a base, or in this case, a database of otaku essentialized and moe-producing primary forms. Azuma suggests that this structure of chara-moe: [r]epresents the otaku culture … a quite postmodern consumer behavior (the simulacra) and the moe-elements (the database). Within the ­consumer behavior of feeling moe for a specific character, along with the blind obsession—there is hidden a peculiarly cool, detached dimension— one that takes apart the object into moe-elements and objectifies them within a database … The otaku’s moe sensibility is doubled between the level of individual characters and the level of moe-elements, and that is exactly why the otaku are able to swap the objects of moe so quickly. (Azumi, 2009, p. 53)

Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man  93 Ito acknowledges that it is these same moe qualities that are immanent in the cute kyara in that “cuteness is tied to the recognition of quasipersonality” (Ito, 2005, p. 112). We feel emotion for the kyara, who in performing as the kyara in a narrative, that is, performing as a “cute non-character” of manga-like formation rather than performing as specifically—say Mimio, Astro Boy, or Mickey Mouse—though paradoxically drawn the same way. Yet the kyara is differentiated from the character through a quasi-realistic personality, a limited and basic set of personality traits whose codes are selected specifically for their qualities of neoteny and vulnerability. Ito tracks this as a process in Tezuka’s manga, specifically with the death of Mimio, a rabbit character in the manga, The Mysterious Underground Men (1994), which Tezuka allowed to be performed as a kyara, up until the moment he killed him, horrifying the Japanese public. Ito saw this as a harbinger of the “confusion we have since maintained in blurring protocharacters and developed characters. When Mimio died as a human, his quasi-personality was internalized and obscured, which in turn succeeded in aligning manga characterization with personification” (Ito, 2005, pp. 112–113). LaMarre feels this issue is key because, ultimately, we need to “acknowledge that cuteness evokes not only a sense of nurture toward the cute little creature, but also a sense of control over and thus violence toward  it” (LaMarre, 2011, p. 124). This sinister set of operations and potentials in manga legitimizes our unease at kyara such as “Hello Kitty”; although we laugh and roll our eyes, we also sense the strange “hidden” trace that shimmers darkly underneath her vacant ovoid eyes, and we shiver ever so slightly as we turn away. With the evocation of “personification,” and “cuteness,” added to the control and thus “violence” as the dark trace of the manga kyara, we find ourselves once again in the realm of the shojo as kyara. This kyara is interpolated from the long historical and global tradition of seeing the feminine as an image, an object, and a set of essentialized characteristics—women have been superflattened for a long time. Curiously, there is a sort of circle inscribed around certain female images in Japanese culture: the onna-e paintings and texts, the geisha, the ukiyo-e actress prints, the Takarazuka stars and narratives, as well as the shojo in manga and anime. We can begin to track the historical and cultural underpinnings of this tendency in Japanese history through Noriko J. Horiguchi, who suggests that by the early modern period discourse on the “nation-state as body could already be seen … but by the 19th century, with the introduction of the ‘organ theory to Japan,’ which states that the ‘use of the body as metaphor became a point of discussion among lawmakers and led to the recreation of kokutai (the body of the nation-state).’ Whether it was a metaphorical or literal body, cultural or biological body, or a combination of the two, Japan as body was a predominant concept in some of the influential writings in modern Japan” (Horiguchi, 2012, pp. xix–xx).

94  Frenchy Lunning Horiguchi explains: Within the changing concepts of kokutai, notions of female bodies varied from domesticated bodies of wives and mothers at home, laboring bodies outside the home, to migrant bodies inside (naichi)—and outside (gaichi) the homeland of Japan. Women engaged in reproduction and/ or production and functioned as the womb and/or the arms and legs of the body of Japan … women’s bodies were functional and meaningful only when they materialized the wealth and strength of the empire. (Horiguchi, 2012, p. xx) By the 19th century, the notion of the Japanese female had become essentialized down to her primary and idealized functions as wife and mother: Women’s bodies were expected to function with the body of the emperor [and], … [the] individual, private situations were ignored. … The notion of Japanese women as the bodily resource of the empire ultimately led to the explicit concept of Japanese women as the ­ universal womb of the community of human beings. (Horiguchi, pp. 21, 26) Thus females became kyara—divorced from the narrative of Japan to iconic status and losing individuality to the universal function of her everreplaceable body. Yet like most cultural artifacts from the 19th century, and in fact like most artifacts of shojo manga culture, this image of femininity is full of c­ ontradictions and ambiguities, hidden powers, and subversive ­sexualities. The artifacts of this feminine culture were structured through the eccentricities of the modernist male gaze, under the overrationalized and instrumental patriarchy of the time. Then as now, whether the designers were male or female, the effect and form were dictated by popular images of the “ideal woman.” The highly eroticized hourglass figure, made possible by the ingenious and complex construction of the corset, was likened at the time to bees or wasps, with the insect queen the very model of the hyper-maternal female. Like Queen Victoria herself, who reveled and celebrated the role of the maternal as the ideal female, this image overemphasized a generous bust, a tiny waist, and a protuberant behind, accentuating and situating ideal femininity in the reproductive mode. But it is not the fashions of the adult female that have been captured in the cult of the shojo. It is a feminine subject residing at an even deeper level of paradox: the Victorian girl–child who is positioned as presexual and hypersexual, virginal but seductive, innocent but dangerous. The ­premenstrual ­little girl presents the ideal female form in which the boundaries of bourgeois hygienic regimes and moralistic sexual restrictions come together in one subject under the patriarchy. Even more than her adult form, the ­Victorian bourgeois “little girl” is swaddled in white and pastel-colored

Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man  95 dresses with flowers, ribbons and lace, and ruffles upon ruffles. Her puffed sleeves stand in for a large bust, her waist made smaller through the wide dimensions of her petticoats and puffed sleeves. The erogenous zone of her legs is exposed yet encased in white stockings that purify and amplify the insinuation of sexual presence. She sports hats, gloves, and other adult accessories, but in a miniaturized and consequently fetishized version of the adult model. Following this turn, the profile of the manga shojo character offers a paradoxical appearance: she is the innocent and naive little girl and at the same time the highly erotic and sexually suggestive adult woman. Such is the shojo’s “MO.” As popular cultural artifact, the shojo kyara presents a feminine identity as a snapshot classification: a type and a totality that come complete with sets, lights, and costumes, yet an identity that encloses and shuts down any deconstruction of meaning. The kyara as performed by the shojo subject of the Lolita,4 for example, emerges from the great constellation of shojo culture, but constitutes a pastiche of mythic idealized femininities from the modernist patriarchal cultures (the kyara is always, in fact, produced as a pastiched or neutrally quoted historical product). As an imagined ­gender pastiche, the Lolita deploys the overcoded Victorian feminine costume as a constructed feminine identity that paradoxically becomes seductive as a subversively sexual subject, while being socially situated as asexual or ­presexual. These two possibilities oscillate in a very satisfying way for the subject: “she,” performing as a mere kyara, can secure her identity as a desirable female and yet keep the abject content within the sexual narrative of the mature feminine character at bay. The morphology of kyara representation thus segues into a morphology of power. However, there is a way to understand the feminine character in shojo manga and culture as an expression not only of Kristevan abjection, but also of abjection in the everyday poignant sense of the word. In its most basic meaning, abjection indicates a position of extreme wretchedness, a low-tothe-ground profile, and groveling misery, which, in the case of the feminine character, has pushed itself inward and sideways, encouraging a denial of its presence, robbing it of its narrative and an impulse to hide the o ­ ffending aspect from view. Julia Kristeva has characterized this movement of ­abjection as a thrusting aside of “otherness,” not the otherness of the object but the otherness of the subject or I. Abjection entails a denial of an aspect of self, a denial that appears desirable within a regime that expects it. This denial is mirrored in Azuma’s observation of the otaku’s “peculiarly cool, detached dimension—one that takes apart the object into moe-­elements and objectifies them within a database” (Azuma, 2009, p. 53), in that the cool detachment was an action that has cast off the moe-elements and placed them in a database away from the self. Abjection generates the phantom of the kyara, as an ever-present accusatory abbreviation of the ideal, dogging the subject’s every move and disturbing its identity, system, and order, without respect for borders, positions, or rules (Kristeva, 1982, p. 4).

96  Frenchy Lunning

Figure 8.3  The book cover of “Picture Story of Tragic Love: Wedding Dress of Tears,” story by Mari Ogawa, illustrations by Makoto Takahashi.

It conjures forth the place, says Kristeva, that harkens back to the earliest stage of development (chora) and the establishment of boundaries and borders that demark our selves from the maternal, and from the moment of “the pure materiality of existence, or what Lacan terms ‘the Real’” (Felluga, 2003). It is, as Ito suggests, a preliminary boilerplate of characteristics, pastiched from the historical cultural understandings of character. It signals a state in which meaning and narrative break down, in which we are left trying to locate the boundaries of self and other, subject and object. It is before language, before words can comfort with their defining and naming functions, thus removing the dread of the drifting amorphous state between abjection and language. It is the mask of the Real, the original smiley face, and thus a ubiquitous image in horror films—the image of a face with no identity, no narrative. In Kristeva’s formation, it is the mother, the defining subject position for females, which is necessarily thrust aside (1982, p. 4). This leaves the emerging female subject in a rather sticky spot, especially under patriarchal conditions. For under patriarchy, as Horiguchi reminds us, women are reduced to flattened images of their singular and necessary

Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man  97 function of reproduction: not just the mother, but also the bodacious babe who is codified and commodified in terms of breeding potential: thus character becomes kyara. As such, women are abjected and degraded as subjects, and so is any linkage with the maternal and the feminine. The coded trappings of the feminine, and especially extreme manifestations of the feminine, are thus regarded as shallow, depthless, cloying, obnoxious, and disgusting. What of the shojo? She is perhaps the most cloying and obnoxious of all feminine subjects, but here we begin to see the contradictions inscribed in her powerful yet paradoxical position.

Figure 8.4  Tomoko Taniguchi, Princess Prince (CPM Manga, 2002). Taniguchi, a shojo mangaka, here illustrates the coded trappings of the feminine framed by Victorian costumes, positions, and sentiment. Courtesy of Tomoko Taniguchi.

The shojo may be the most complex and profound of possible feminine subjects. As we approach this kyara through her most obvious manifestation in manga, she reveals her abject state through the visual morphology of her representations. Those representations extend to various forms of fan

98  Frenchy Lunning behavior and to the narratives created within the shojo culture. Her morphology is extracted from the body of manga and anime, as well as from the bodies represented in manga and anime. These bodies are in no way stabilized and in no way actual. To the extent that gender becomes a fictive notion in favor of a magical state of shape-shifting, they swivel and switch dangerously, as if announcing the absence of an original gender state. For the creators of manga and anime, the shojo body offers a substrate upon which is inscribed the tension between a desire to do away with gender and the inability to express gender conflict without gender. As a representation of the abject, the shojo manga character becomes a chimera: she has the ability to evoke something beyond the reach of cultural imaginings, beyond the utopic and dystopic potentials of desire. She wears her cultural abjection on the surface. As the most vulnerable and undervalued of feminine subjects, she is easily lured, easily convinced of the illusion of romance, easily transformed into other genders and beings that appear inconsequential to mainstream cultural meanings and agendas. Representing lived states of women, she utterly fictionalizes the inner/outer dichotomy in a manner that typifies the boundary issues of the abject subject and the swiveling duality of the character/kyara. Ultimately, however, both come down to the same thing: the shojo body is a work of art that attempts to profess the narrative of abjection by providing a fantasy of endless diversion, a fantasy of that which repulses us, by way of that which we desire. As perhaps the most poignant example of the kyara, the shojo is at the center of this swirling universe of objects, at the still point of the turning vortex. She represents the black hole that is the shojo: she is the point of gravity where all shojo culture is merged into meanings through extreme pressure. She is the sign where the deconstruction of signification ceases, yet paradoxically, she is also the origin of the feverish proliferation and manic repetition of objects. She is at once a singular image of the little girl (manga character) and a complex of caricaturized characteristics, concepts, and commodities (kyara). Although she may be denigrated as childish and cloyingly feminine, she also wields the significant power of the kyara, in her capacity as a truly transnational, transgendered cultural symbol and a­esthetic commodity. Patriarchal cultures—unbalanced and moving at a run to keep from falling over, to keep from having to see themselves—nevertheless reveal their sense of loss of the feminine by admitting the shojo into their universe of forms and objects, secretly adoring her cuteness under the guise of transnational marketing strategies. The profile of a sweet, endearing but utterly disposable and replaceable kyara form allows for a denial of value and meaning, at the same time as it allows her to monopolize commercial constructions and advertising. She is a Trojan horse: she has appeared at the gates of the patriarchal fortress not as the grown and terrifying Amazon of the women’s movement, but as a guileless and powerless little girl of popular culture. We are ensorcelled, and we have let her in. She is now ubiquitous, transnationally exchanged, and she has begun to inject the feminine into culture. Having gained admittance,

Between the Shojo Kyara and the Modern Man  99 she has stealthily brought in her siblings—the adult female heroines of gaming, the gay guys of yaoi, and the transgendered hero/heroines of manga—all as subjects in her family of forms. Although still reviled as flat and valueless in patriarchal culture, the denials have become less shrill, the acceptance grudging but evident. She has put her dainty foot in the door, and as she passes through into the mainstream culture, she signifies her presence with the ­rustling sara – sara! of ruffles slipping through the gates! NOTES 1. Yasushi Inoue. From the English translation found as: “Kyara—Innovative Super Symbol in Manga Linguistic World—A Critique of TEZUKA Is Dead by Ito Go” (p. 161). 2. Ibid. 3. “moe”: “Derived from the Japanese verb ‘moeru’ (‘to bud’ as in plants or flowers), ‘moe’ can mean several things. It can refer to the urge to care and nurture someone / something that is young, sweet and innocent, e.g. the first feelings of friendship or a crush. ‘Moe’ can also be used as an adjective to refer to a type of anime / manga character or an idol singer / actress who is adorable and loveable. These types of characters can be called ‘moekko’ or ‘moe child’ … Occasionally, ‘moe’ can be used as a verb. For example, to be ‘moe’ for something / someone refers to having a soft spot for it in your heart. While ‘moe’ is meant to imply pure, platonic feelings, ‘moe’ can also refer to having a strong interest, (some would say fetish) for anime / manga characters, or actors / singers who inspire fans to feel protective, almost fraternal / maternal / paternal love, while also harboring somewhat forbidden lustful desires.” “Moe,” About.com, Manga. http://manga.about.com/od/glossary/g/moe.htm, accessed May 24, 2012. 4. The Lolita or “Loli” (Rori) refers to a particular cosplay genre that has focused on the shojo little girl, and has also expanded to a multiplicity of forms. The Lolita is a cosplay character of the Victorian little girl, but has exploded into nearly 20 different highly specific requirements and rules for each manifestation of her. Otaku culture has brought this practice into mainstream cultures in the form of fashion design, merchandise, toys, games, and other practices wherein the origin of these forms is all but forgotten.

REFERENCES Azuma, H. (2009). Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Felluga, D. (2003). “Modules on Kristeva: On Psychosexual Development.” ­Introductory Guide to Critical Theory. Purdue University. http://www.cla.purdue.edu/academic/ engl/theory/psychoanalysis/kristevadevelop.html (accessed January 30, 2010). Horiguchi, N. J. (2012). Women Adrift: The Literature of Japan’s Imperial Body. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Ito, G. (2005). “Manga History Viewed through Proto- Characteristics.” In Philip Brophy (ed.), Tezuka: The Marvel of Manga (exh.cat.), (Melbourne: National

100  Frenchy Lunning Gallery of Victoria), pp. 107–113, excerpted from Ito Go, Tezuka Is Dead. ­Hirakareta Manga Hyogenron e (Tezuka Is Dead. Postmodernist and Modernist Approaches to Japanese Manga). Tokyo: NTT shuppan. Kristeva, J. (1982). Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection. Trans. Leon S. R ­ oudiez. New York: Columbia University Press. LaMarre, T. (2011). “Specieism Part 3: Neoteny and the Politics of Life.” In ­Frenchy Lunning (ed.), Mechademia 6: User Enhanced. Minneapolis: University of ­Minnesota Press. Miyadai, S. (2008). “Duality and the ‘Multiplicity of Living Duplications.’” Of ARTit: Japan’s First Bilingual Art Quarterly. Quarterly Journal of the Art in Japan and Asia-Pacific, No. 19 (Spring/Summer), found on IT Park: Gallery and Photo Studio, http://www.itpark.com.tw/artist/critical_data/525/1295/296. Steinberg, M. (2010). “A Vinyl Platform for Dissent: Des igner Toys and ­Character Merchandizing.” Journal of Visual Culture, 9(2). pp. 209–227. Los Angeles: SAGE Publications.

9 Miyazaki’s View of Shojo Marc Hairston

In modern manga and anime (1950s to the present), the female characters’ roles are frequently limited to only a few basic archetypes. First, there is the magical girl, the girl with some supernatural powers who uses them to right wrongs, doing everything from dealing with mundane domestic troubles (Magical Witch Sally) to defeating cosmic monsters (Sailor Moon), to the more recent deconstructive twist on the archetype (Puella Magi Madoka Magica). Then there is the romantic girl, the heroine of countless shojo manga and anime dealing with all the complexities of getting the ­perfect ­boyfriend to fall in love with her (Marmalade Boy). Next is the cute g­ irlfriend of shonen manga and anime, the girl who exists primarily for the sake of attracting the male reader to fall in love with her through the surrogate of the main male character in the story. An example is the harem anime where a likeable, but not terribly remarkable, male finds himself surrounded by attractive females (Love Hina). Last, there is the “girls with guns” archetype, which shows girls as attractive, active, and deadly. This can range from the original Dirty Pair series (galactic troubleshooters in two-piece outfits with slapstick results) to the disturbing Gunslinger Girl (preadolescent girls transformed into cyborgs used for political assassinations) to the more recent surreal show Upotte!! where the guns themselves are anthropomorphized into cute girls. And of course combinations of these archetypes can be made, such as Belldandy in Ah My Goddess! who is a “magical girlfriend” character. Although many shojo characters in anime and manga fall outside these few archetypes, they are definitely in the minority. So it is interesting that all the young women in the popular films of Hayao Miyazaki defy all these archetypes and stereotypes. Hayao Miyazaki is universally regarded as the greatest living animator in Japan today, and certainly he is one of the greatest animators who ever lived. Considered a living national treasure in Japan, his films and the others from his animation company, Studio Ghibli, consistently outperform even Disney films at the Japanese box office. As of 2014, three of the top five highestgrossing films of all time in Japan were his, with Spirited Away at number one, Howl’s Moving Castle at number two, and Ponyo at number five.1 In a culture that is far more permeated with animation on television and m ­ ovies than we are in the West, Miyazaki is part of the mainstream culture, the

102  Marc Hairston man who makes animated films that even non-fans of animation will watch. Although most animated films and television shows in Japan are consumed by children and young adults, even grandparents will happily stand in line to see a Miyazaki film.2 So why, if Miyazaki’s work and career have been so significant in defining what anime is to the mainstream audience in Japan, are his shojo characters so atypical when compared to the rest of anime? Turning the question around, we see that it is precisely because his characters and stories go beyond the clichés and stereotypes of anime that his works are so popular and seen as artistically superior. Still, just being ­different and more “artistic” is not enough to ensure financial success in the entertainment industry and more often leads to financial failures. Part of the popularity of his films comes precisely from his characters’ depth and complexity; Miyazaki’s shojo are deeply human in their portrayal and touch their audience. A thorough examination of his shojo characters would require a separate essay for each of them, so I must restrict myself here to a brief overview and division of the characters into three age groups. The first group consists of the young shojo under the age of six, and there are three in this category: Mimiko from the short films Panda Go Panda (1972) and Rainy Day Circus (1973), Mei from My Neighbor Totoro (1988), and Ponyo from Ponyo (2008). The Panda Go Panda shorts were made to capitalize on the “panda mania” in Japan back in the early 1970s, and tell of Mimiko, a happy and energetic child who takes in two runaway pandas, making a new family with them. Closer to the standard shojo in children’s stories, Mimiko is a fantasy rendition of the ideal of a purely innocent and wholly joyful childhood. Everything is an adventure for her, and all her escapades have happy endings. Mimiko is quite clearly the ­prototype for Mei who appears fourteen years later. Totoro also presents a sentimental and nostalgic image of an idyllic childhood. Mei (age four) and her older sister Satsuki (age 11) are free to wander and explore the magical countryside around their new home where they discover wonder in everything from common acorns to the magical Totoro creatures. But Miyazaki introduces a shadow on their world: their mother is ill in a nearby hospital, and the girls must face the possibility of her death. Ultimately, there is a happy ending where the mother recovers, but here Miyazaki shows a darker side of life and presents a realistic portrayal of the anxiety of his shojo characters. It would be another twenty years before Miyazaki returned to make a movie focusing on very young children with Ponyo. In this personal retelling of Hans Christian Andersen’s The Little Mermaid, Miyazaki tells of Ponyo, the fish daughter of an undersea human magician and a sea goddess, who is found by a five-year-old boy, Sosuke, who makes her his pet. After her overprotective father returns her to their undersea home, she steals his magical powers to transform herself into a human girl, creating an apocalyptic typhoon in the process of returning to Sosuke. Using a bright pastel color palette and telling the story more through emotion than logic, Miyazaki intentionally presents the world of the film through the eyes of

Miyazaki’s View of Shojo  103 the two children. Many viewers complained that the story did not make logical sense, but Miyazaki replied, “five-year-old children will be able to understand it, even if 50-year-olds can’t.”3 Sosuke, as a child, is still innocent enough to see reality and not just the categories of the social world; thus, he is able to immediately recognize Ponyo in her girl form as the same creature he knew as a fish. The final affirmation in the film where Sosuke proclaims to all the adults that he will love Ponyo whether she is a fish or a human is Miyazaki making a plea for tolerance and understanding. The next group of Miyazaki’s shojo characters is made up of five ­prepubescent girls, four of whom fall into two pairs. The first pair consists of Lana from the television series Future Boy Conan (1978) and Sheeta from Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986). Both anime are adventure stories centering on a boy and girl, both orphans, being pursued by villains through fantastic journeys and escapes. Although most of both storylines consist of the traditional girl-captured-by-villains-and-rescued-by-boy motif, both Lana ­ and Sheeta rise above being mere hero-bait. Lana is in touch with the natural world, as is shown by the fact that she can communicate telepathically with seagulls. She represents Miyazaki’s themes of compassion and the w ­ illingness to forgive the villains of the story. But most of all, she has an inner strength and power equal to Conan’s. In Laputa Miyazaki takes this image of shojo with inner resolve even further. Sheeta starts the story tagging along with Pazu in his quest to find Laputa, the floating island in the sky, but by the end we learn that she is a descendant of the royal family of Laputa and owns the magical gemstone that controls the island’s power. In the final showdown with the villain Muska, she is willing to sacrifice her own life to prevent the power of Laputa from falling into evil hands. Going from strength to uncertainty, we look at the other pair of prepubescent shojo, Kiki in Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989) and Chihiro in Spirited Away (2001). Although Lana and Sheeta are closer to stock fantasy adventure characters, Kiki and Chihiro are both closer to real-life girls. This may seem an odd way to describe Kiki who is, after all, a witch, and at first glance Kiki’s Delivery Service seems like a prototypical magical girl anime. But the more common magical girl in anime would solve all her problems with her magical powers. Kiki’s magic is so weak that she can barely fly, so when faced with the same challenges of any young girl—making her way in a new place and building a new surrogate family—she suffers the same setbacks of any ordinary girl. Miyazaki said he made Kiki for all the young Japanese going off to find their own independence.4 Kiki ultimately triumphs because of her inner spirit and strength, and that enables her to regain her magical powers. Twelve years later he returned to the theme of a shojo finding her strength from within with Chihiro. Miyazaki told of how he met the tenyear old daughter of some friends and was shocked at her lack of passion. She inspired him to make Spirited Away as a tale to show “every ten–year old, and everyone who ever was ten years old” that there is a passion and power within themselves.5 Chihiro is just a cipher at the beginning of the

104  Marc Hairston film, a whiny, spoiled child still dependent on her parents. But when she is startled out of her lethargy by the loss of her parents and thrown into the strange spirit world of Yubaba’s bathhouse, she begins to grow, and discovers her own self-confidence. As Miyazaki says in his description of the film, she triumphs not because she has conquered evil, but “because she has gained the power to live.”6 Arrietty in The Secret World of Arrietty (2010) is a bit of an outlier in these characters in that, while all the other films were written and directed by Miyazaki, here he only wrote the original screenplay and turned the direction over to a younger animator from the studio, Hiromasa Yonebayashi. Still, Arrietty fits in perfectly with the other “Ghibli girls.” Based on Mary Norton’s classic children’s novel, The Borrowers, the film tells of a family of “little people” who live under a suburban home and survive by “borrowing” small items and food that would not be missed by the larger, normal humans. Fourteen-year-old Arrietty is allowed to go on her first borrowing run inside the house, but accidentally breaks the one iron-fast rule of the borrowers when she is accidentally seen by a young man, Shawn, the visiting grandson of the home’s owner. Fearing further discovery, her family must then find another home, but in the few days before she leaves, Arrietty and Shawn strike up a tender friendship. Ultimately, the story is about resiliency and Arrietty’s courage as she faces up to her responsibility and her uncertain new life after leaving the only home she has ever known. The story is somewhat more sentimental in tone than Kiki or Totoro, but Miyazaki said he hoped “this work will offer comfort and courage to the people living in these chaotic and unsure times” (Miyazaki, 2012, p. 36). Last are the three older teenaged shojo, Nausicaä of Nausicaä of the ­Valley of Wind (1984), Sen from Princess Mononoke (1997), and Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle (2004). Nausicaä is the central character not only of Miyazaki’s film, but also of the epic manga series he wrote over a period of thirteen years. As his fullest and most accomplished character, it would require a small book to give a complete picture of her.7 The princess of a small feudal k ­ ingdom in a postapocalyptic Earth, she fills many roles: leader, explorer, scientist, peacemaker, mother figure, and ultimately a messiah ­figure. In both the manga and the anime, her spiritual strength and noble sense of justice ultimately bring reconciliation between warring nations as well as between humans and a hostile natural world. A more traditional storyteller would have found a “good boy” for Nausicaä and have them settle down. But it was just impossible; Nausicaä was too strong a character, too perfect a messiah for any other character in her story to measure up to her. She was so powerful that many viewers wondered why Miyazaki chose to make her female in what otherwise appears to be a mostly male-dominated society. Miyazaki explained in an interview that men only triumph by defeating an enemy, but that women win by understanding and acceptance. Thus, taking on the epic role of reconciler for the world required that Nausicaä be female (Toyama, 1996).

Miyazaki’s View of Shojo  105 The manga of Nausicaä continued for ten years after the release of the film version and moved onto more troubling and darker themes than the film addressed. Miyazaki repeatedly said that he would never make a sequel film for Nausicaä, but immediately after finishing the manga he started on Princess Mononoke, which incorporated many of the themes from the final part of the Nausicaä manga. Once again the film is about the war between humans and the natural world, but this time the character of Nausicaä seems to be split between the two central characters: San, a feral girl raised in the wild by a wolf-god, and Ashitaka, a young man under a curse of death. Like Nausicaä, San is intimately connected and attuned to the natural world, but she is driven by her passion to protect Nature, driven into believing that she must destroy all of the other humans. Ashitaka is the character driven to understand the world and reconcile the forces of the nature gods with the humans who are taking over the world. In the end, only the uneasy alliance and understanding reached between San and Ashitaka can form a sort of truce in the war. In Howl’s Moving Castle (2004), Miyazaki takes on a new dimension of the shojo image: the seemingly contradictory idea of an “elderly shojo.” The central story element here (based on the 1986 fantasy novel by the British writer Diana Wynne Jones) is of a young woman who has been cursed by a witch and turned into an elderly crone. A simpler story would have the ­central character, Sophie, becoming upset and struggling to regain her lost youth, but Jones and Miyazaki tell a more interesting tale. Although young (about seventeen) at the beginning, Sophie is already dull and mousy, resigned to a life of spinsterhood. When she is transformed into an old woman, she is shocked, but not terribly upset. “Your clothes finally suit you,” she wryly tells her reflection in a mirror. She goes to the magician Howl at first to find a way of breaking the spell, but she stays on because she finds a surrogate family and a surprising freedom and power as an ugly old woman, the complete antithesis of the cute anime shojo. She finds an internal strength and spirit that she (like Kiki and Chihiro) did not realize she possessed. Ultimately, she regains her youthfulness but not her teenaged youth, ending the movie at an ideal adult age somewhere in her thirties. In a world driven mad by the desire to be youthful, Miyazaki seems to be saying that shojo is a state of mind, not a function of age. In his final feature film, The Wind Rises (2013), Miyazaki paints one last illustration of a shojo/adult image in the character of Nahoko Satomi, the only character that Miyazaki shows both as a child and as an adult. She is depicted as the wife of the protagonist, Jiro Horikoshi, the young engineer who designed the Japanese Zero fighter plane in the years before World War II. The Wind Rises is one of the three Miyazaki films (Castle of Cagliostro and Porco Rosso being the other two) that center on a male character and females play only secondary roles. The film follows Jiro from his childhood dreams of flight through his education and professional work up to the first successful flight of the Zero in 1935, then ends with a short epilogue in 1945 after the war ends. Although the character of Jiro in the film is a fictionalized version of a historic person, the character of Nahoko

106  Marc Hairston is completely fictional, thus giving Miyazaki’s imagination free rein to create the ideal shojo for his protagonist.8 Jiro meets the young Nahoko on a train returning to college in Tokyo in 1923 when he is 20 and she is about 13, first seeing her when she walks out onto the back deck of the passenger car. Excited by the view of the countryside and the motion, she rescues Jiro’s hat when it blows off his head and almost falls off the moving train in grabbing it. When she returns it to him, she quotes a line of poetry in French from the poet Paul Valery: “Le vent se leve. Il faut tenter de vivre. (The wind is rising. we must live.)”9 In this introductory scene, we see her character displaying all of the typical Miyazaki shojo attributes: she is cute, curious, unafraid, and intelligent. In the next scene, the train is derailed when the Great Kanto Earthquake occurs. Jiro and Nahoko are unhurt, but Nahoko’s nanny, ­ O-Kinu, ­breaks her leg, which Jiro splints with a slide rule. In the aftermath of the ­earthquake Nahoko shows courage and resilience, determinedly carrying the heavy suitcase while Jiro carries the injured O-Kinu to safety, then guiding Jiro through the wreckage of Tokyo to her home to summon help. They meet again accidentally ten years later at a countryside resort in Karuizawa. Jiro is now working for Mitsubishi Industries designing aircraft, and Nahoko is on a holiday with her father. She recognizes “our knight in shining armor” from the earthquake and introduces herself to him, thus beginning their courtship. At 23 we now see in her all of Miyazaki’s ideal shojo qualities developed into an adult woman. She is beautiful and vivacious, she has become a painter, and, as the story develops, she becomes increasingly devoted to her “knight” Jiro. But before they can marry, the next year she is stricken with tuberculosis and moves to a sanatorium to recover. When her condition does not improve, she leaves the sanatorium to travel to Nagoya, determined to spend what time she has left with Jiro. They marry that night and live in a room of the house of Jiro’s s­ upervisor, Mr. ­Kurokawa. Despite her increasingly frail state, she provides Jiro with the needed companionship and emotional support during the final months of his grueling work to develop the Zero fighter. Her devotion is so great that even when he offers to go outside to smoke (in deference to her breathing difficulties), she makes him stay by her side holding her hand. Realizing her end is drawing near just as Jiro’s newly designed plane is about to make its first successful flight, Nahoko returns to the sanatorium without telling Jiro of her plans. When Jiro’s sister attempts to go after her, Mrs. K ­ urokawa stops her, saying, “she wants him to remember her as she was,” thus ­illustrating her final sacrifice for Jiro. In the epilogue at the end of the war, the ghost of Nahoko appears in her young and idealized form to Jiro and tells him, “you must live,” echoing both the Valery poem and Nausicaä’s final line from Miyazaki’s manga. Then she disappears. Thus Miyazaki uses this idealized shojo character as a parallel and a metaphor of Jiro’s dreams of flight. Both her character and Jiro’s dreams are presented as beautiful, pure, and idealized, but both end tragically with her death and the Zero’s fate is to be used only as a destructive killing machine.

Miyazaki’s View of Shojo  107 As we see with all these characters, what sets Miyazaki’s shojo apart from the other anime shojo is that they are characters that inspire and emotionally move the viewers. This is the key point to all of Miyazaki’s work; while other anime shojo are created for looks or for laughs, he creates his as characters with depth and as serious role models. In the hands of a lesser artist or storyteller, such an effort would result in maudlin characters and boring stories. It is a tribute to Miyazaki that his shojo characters are so real, so three-dimensional, and so attractive that the realization that they can also be role models comes almost as an afterthought.10

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT My thanks go to Dr. Sara Cooper and Dr. Pamela Gossin for their help with this chapter.

NOTES 1. Searches at http://boxofficemojo.com/intl/japan/yearly/ and http://www.imdb. com/ (accessed May 2014) give the total Japanese box office in US dollars for these films: Spirited Away (2001): $230 million; Howl’s Moving Castle (2004): $190 million; Avatar (2009): $186 million; Frozen (2013): $180 million, and Ponyo (2008): $164 million. 2. Information about Miyazaki, Studio Ghibli, and all the films, television shows, and manga produced by Miyazaki can be found at the comprehensive website www. nausicaa.net. The author is one of the team members who maintains this site. 3. Quoted in Spirits, Gods and Pastel Paints: The Weird World of Master Animator Hayao Miyazaki, Robert Epstein, The Independent, January 31, 2010; http:// www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/features/spirits-gods-and-­ pastel-paints-the-weird-world-of-master-animator-hayao-miyazaki-1880974. html, accessed July 2012. 4. “The Hopes and Spirit of Contemporary Japanese Girls,” The Art of “Kiki’s Delivery Service,” Animage Editorial Staff, published by Tokuma Shoten, 1989, pp. 7–8. 5. US press kit for Spirited Away. See www.nausicaa.net/miyazaki/sen/presskit.htm. 6. Chihiro’s “Mysterious Town: The Aim of This Film,” The Art of Miyazaki’s Spirited Away, English edition published by Viz Communications, 2002, p. 15. 7. A longer exploration of the Nausicaä manga can be found in the essay “The Reluctant Messiah: Miyazaki Hayao’s ‘Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind’ Manga”, Marc Hairston, in Manga: An Anthology of Global and Cultural Perspectives, ed. Toni Johnson-Woods. New York: Continuum International ­Publishing Group, 2010. 8. Miyazaki based Nahoko in part on the character Setsuko in Hori Tatsuo’s novel about a woman suffering tuberculosis in the 1930s, Kaze Tachinu (The Wind Has Risen), from which he also borrowed the title of the film. http://the-artifice. com/the-wind-rises-2013-fact-fiction/ (accessed May 2014).

108  Marc Hairston 9. All quotes from the film and the timeline of events come from The Art of the Wind Rises, English edition published by Viz Media, 2014. Note that while “we must live” is the translation used in the film, the original French is closer to “we must attempt/try/make an effort to live,” emphasizing the difficulty of the effort. 10. For a more in-depth exploration of this idea, see Susan Napier’s chapter “The Enchantment of Estrangement: The Shojo in the World of Miyazaki Hayao” in Anime: from Akira to Howl’s Moving Castle (updated edition), Palgrave, 2005.

REFERENCES Miyazaki, H. (2012). Miyazaki’s Proposal for Arrietty, reprinted in The Art of the Secret World of Arrietty, English edition published by Viz Media. Toyama, R. (1996). Young Magazine, February 20, 1984. Reprinted in Archives of Studio Ghibli Vol. 1; published by Studio Ghibli, translation by Ryoko Toyama at http://www.nausicaa.net/miyazaki/interviews/heroines.html#s1 (accessed July 2012).

10 Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful Explorations of the “Bishojo (Beautiful Girl)” and “Bishonen (Beautiful Boy)” in Taiwan’s Anime/Manga Fan Culture Jin-Shiow Chen INTRODUCTION In the last decade, Taiwan’s manga fan culture has become very visible and active due to two annual, high-profile dojin (fan artist) conventions1: Comic World, Taiwan (CWT)2 and Fancy Frontier (FF).3 The Comiket (Tokyo Comic Market) style of dojin convention was introduced to Taiwan by the merging of the JB Comic Store and Japan’s S.E. Inc. to create the Comic World Convention. The first Comic World event (CW 1) was held in Taipei on Saturday, October 25, 1997, and attracted around 100 dojin groups and 5,000 fans. However, in time, CWT and FF were formed, and “S.E. Inc.” retreated back to Japan. CWT and FF became the two major players in ­Taiwan’s anime/manga fan culture. The conventions have not only been held regularly in Taipei, but also have expanded through affiliates or branches, respectively, in Taichung (central Taiwan) and Kaohsiung (southern ­Taiwan). CWT began to feature the female-oriented genres, while FF featured the male-oriented genres.4 CWT and FF have not only led the development of anime/manga conventions, but have also shaped the growth of anime/ manga fan culture. These events are a window into Taiwan’s anime/manga fan culture, providing insight into dojin communities. This chapter looks at the popularity of bishojo (beautiful girl) and bishonen (beautiful boy) images in the context of Taiwan’s anime/manga fan culture and its relationship to that in Japan, the motherland of the global fan base. Bishojo and bishonen are Japanese terms used to describe pretty girls and boys under the age of 18. Bishojo and bishonen characters are ­popular in anime/manga fandom around Asia, and, meanwhile, have become a powerful influence on celebrity style in the entertainment business and mass culture in general. However, fan culture is fluid in essence, as Jenkins (1992) points out in his book, Textual Poachers: “There is nothing timeless and unchanging about this culture; fandom originates in response to specific historical ­conditions … and remains constantly in flux” (p. 3). Like other fan cultures, the anime/manga fan culture is organic and dynamic, and it is not surprising to see changes occurring in usage of the terms and aesthetic r­ epresentations of bishojo and bishonen in the transnational flow. Thus, after receiving the nurture of Japan’s anime/manga industries and domestic fan culture, ­Taiwan’s fandom has developed its own aesthetic preferences and tendencies.

110  Jin-Shiow Chen The reason I am drawn to bishojo and bishonen images is simple. Almost every anime/manga convention, such as CWT and FF, is saturated with these flamboyant images of beautiful characters. These bishojo and ­bishonen are like movie stars or pop singers, displayed on large posters or huge screens. They also appear as logos on bookmarks, mugs, shopping bags, key chains, pillows, and many other products. As a visual arts researcher, I found this scenery fascinating. The question is, why are bishojo and bishonen images so appealing to the fans? Is this aesthetic preference simply due to visual charm? Or do these images impart some profound meaning to fans? In order to get a closer look at the culture and to depict a clearer picture of this ­passionate, even fanatic phenomenon of Taiwan’s anime/manga fandom, data were ­collected directly through participant observation, interviews, free conversations with fans, and a questionnaire conducted mostly at the CWT and FF (Petit Fancy) conventions from 2007 to 2012. BISHOJO AND BISHONEN IN TAIWAN’S ANIME/MANGA FAN CULTURE As mentioned previously, bishojo and bishonen images saturate CWT and FF. Although this phenomenon is common to most anime/manga conventions, upon closer examination I find that Taiwan’s fandom has its own way of approaching these images. This may be because the majority of the manga fans and amateur artists who actively participate in CWT and FF are young women in their mid-teens and mid-twenties. Their perceptions of bishojo and bishonen images are different from those of the male audience and have become more controlling in this subculture. This finding corresponds to Kinsella’s (2000) observation that manga fan culture is more a girls’ than a boys’ culture, and girls’ manga and feminine expressions lead in this subculture. Many scholars have suggested that the gender difference is a key factor in shaping the cultural style of fandom (Hills, 2002; Jenkins, 1992; Napier, 2000). Thus, the enthusiasm for bishojo and bishonen images in Taiwan does not conform to international models of fandom. Although anime/manga fan culture has become a field of research, little attention has been paid to the visual features of bishojo and bishonen that fans use for making their fan art. However, in view of the proliferation of these bishojo and bishonen images for sharing and sale, it is important to look at this aspect.

Bishojo Images and Style Since the 1980s, the concept of bishojo has been enlivened through the brilliant visual style of anime/manga; however, the aesthetic concept of bishojo has strong roots in the tradition of Japanese royal families and ancient ­literature. Bishojo images have been uplifted again in contemporary Japanese

Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful  111 5

society mostly due to their moe potential. Moe is a Japanese verb literally meaning “to bud or sprout.” Since moe is pronounced the same way as the verb “Moe” meaning “to burn,” it is, therefore, used to refer to a burning passion aroused by certain cute ACG (Anime, Comic, and Game) characters. In the book, Bishojo no Gendaishi (Modern History of Beautiful Girls), Sasakibara (2004) explains that since the target audience of anime and manga was expanded to adolescents and young adults, bishojo characters have been created with more moe to trigger the erotic desires of young male readers. Sasakibara (2004) states that the moe business targets both males and females in different ways, but his book is approached from the male perspective. The popularity of bishojo and moe accelerated with the rise of the market due to otaku (a Japanese term for those with obsessive interests and often associated with anime/manga obsession). According to Galbraith (2009), Okada Toshio thinks that the moe zeal became most obvious among “third-generation otaku,” or Japanese born in the 1980s who grew up with all sorts of ACG products. For the benefit of the otaku, mostly male teenagers, the erokawaii-kei moe6 (sexualized moe characters) are made to look even younger and more naïve, but still have overly mature bodies to appeal to male otaku sexual fantasies. Similarly, this style of bishojo imagery commonly appears in the section for male-oriented genres at CWT and FF. Another style of moe bishojo, often categorized as loli or lolicon (referring to the Lolita complex, an attraction to young or prepubescent girls), is even more popular among young male readers in Taiwan. Another similar style is the otome-kei moe7 (“maiden moe,” referring to girls of junior high school age). This loli style of moe bishojo can be divided into three different age types: little loli, loli, and one. Little loli refers to those under 10 years of age, loli refers to ages from 10 to 16, and one refers to more mature girls, 16 to 25. However, Taiwan’s anime/manga culture seems to favor juvenile prettiness and cuteness to the point that the one type is not as popular as the loli or even the little loli type. Representative characters are K ­ inomoto Sakura from Card Captor Sakura, Suiginto from Rozen Maiden, and Suzumiya Haruhi from Haruhi Suzumiya. This style applied to uniformed schoolgirls is very popular among male fans and dojinshi artists in Taiwan These moe heroines often look so youthfully fresh, naïve, and ­innocent that they instinctively trigger an elder-brotherly protective response from male readers. Many types of moe loli heroines attractive to males are from girls’ manga, such as the three mentioned above. This doesn’t mean that male readers are fond of girls’ manga. Males tend to look at these characters as detached from the original stories. The characters are popular among female fans and dojinshi artists as well; that is why these bishojo images are everywhere at CWT and FF. There are several reasons for this phenomenon: first, these moe loli characters are cute, lovely, and pleasant like fun younger sisters; second, moe loli represent what girls would like to be; and third, the moe loli characters are created to get male readers to buy the products. However,

112  Jin-Shiow Chen a slight difference between the male and female fan artist drawings of moe loli is that female artists tend to prefer their moe loli to be more delicate and graceful such as Tsukino Usagi from Sailor Moon, Marie ­Antoinette from The Rose of Versailles, Belldandy from Ah! My ­Goddess, and Rin Minmei from The Super Dimension F­ortress Macross. Many female fan a­ rtists like to use such characters as models for their ­drawings but often make their moe loli characters even more flowery and gorgeous. ­Additionally, the term moe seems to belong to the female, as girls like to shout “moeeee!” ­whenever they see cute, appealing, and charming images. When the anime Bishojo Senshi Sailor Moon8 (bishojo senshi meaning “pretty guardians”) was broadcast in Taiwan, these pretty guardians caused a craze among youngsters, both boys and girls, and the term bishojo, ­representing heroines worthy of the name, became popular as well. Undoubtedly these magical, appealing beauties were the most outstanding feature of Sailor Moon. Gravett (2004) credits Sailor Moon as a great force, revitalizing the “magical girl genre” (p. 78), while Ross (2007) believes it created an archetype for the genre. The implication is that the magical girl genre became even more powerful after being conflated with the bishojo style and the moe loli type in particular. This visual style of bishojo senshi is indeed eye-catching and influential. Many female dojinshi artists whom I interviewed mentioned that because of this visual style and its aesthetic charm they became infatuated with these bishojo immediately and began copying the drawing styles. The bishojo style and the necessary drawing skills are quite complicated. Bishojo characters can also be classified variously; (1) the cute, righteous, and smart, (2) the sweet and delicate, (3) the gorgeous type, (4) the graceful and elegant, (5) the cold beauty, (6) the confident and smart, (7) the pure and kindhearted, (8) the fresh and sunny, (9) the bright, pleasant, (10) the dark, gothic type, and so forth (Chen, 2011). Many types of bishojo characters appear in commercial anime/manga, fan art, and dojinshi as well. These characters look different in appearance or visual presentation, yet they retain certain similarities that can be considered standard principles or criteria for bishojo. Anime/manga fans seem to know these principles very well when they are asked to describe the visual features of bishojo images. Fan response to what makes a bishojo reflects their preferences for certain types of bishojo. Basic principles for bishojo are summarized as follows: 1 Features for overall appearance: beautiful, stylish hair, mostly long and flowing; big eyes shining with twinkling stars; double eyelids; delicate and long eyebrows; little or no nose; small and cute mouth; flat face with a triangular chin; thin, slender and well-proportioned body (usually a 1:8 or 1:9 ratio); long and delicate legs; younger looking than her actual age.

Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful  113 2 Character features: gentle, cute, tender, charming, pure, kindhearted, naïve, sweet, lovely, delicate, open-minded and brilliant, or sensitive and pathetic; another type of character is mature, confident, independent, caring, and cultivated. 3 Outfits: clothing and hairstyle must match her character. If a bishojo character is more of a deity type, she usually has long, flowing hair and a long gown; if a bishojo character is cute, lovely, sunny, and smart, she might have stylish hair that could be long or short and a short, pretty skirt.

Bishonen Images and Style The bishonen style is also outstanding at the CWT and FF. Bishonen9 ­literally means “beautiful boy or youth” and most often refers to charac­ ters ages 10 to 24, although they can be up to 30. However, it is more ­common to use the word bidanshi, meaning “handsome man” for those aged 20 to 30, and the word shota for ages 10 to 14. Shota are often presented as lovely and cute, but they are not as popular as bidanshi. Recently in Taiwan’s popular culture, the term meixingnan has been used to refer to this style of handsome young men. South Koreans use kkot-mi-nam (“flowery pretty men”) for this style. Bishonen are “typically slender, with a tapered chin, stylish hair, and a facial structure likened to that of a woman,” while retaining male features (Wikipedia, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bishonen). This type of shonen is the Japanese ideal of a young homosexual lover, featuring feminine qualities that look elegant and androgynous. Such bishonen aesthetics with homoerotic overtones are actually embedded in ancient Japanese literature, but the ancient style of bishonen imagery differs from the particularly Westernized modern anime/manga bishonen. The bishonen style has changed over time, but its homoerotic overtones remain. The best examples are in “boys’ love” (BL) manga and manga ­dojinshi (self-published manga fanzines). These bishonen stories deal with boys’ love relationships, their passions, and their sensual desires. Interestingly, BL manga and manga dojinshi have become tremendously popular among female fans in Japan and Taiwan (Chen, 2007). The bishonen ­protagonists are possibly the biggest charm for young female fans. A dojinshi artist relates: “The main reason we girls like to read boys’ love manga is that most of the characters are what we call ‘bishonen.’ It is extremely pleasant and joyful to see so many beautiful boys all at the same time” (Interview, 2007). To young female fans bishonen represent ideal images of handsome men who are delicate, gentle, and considerate—all feminine qualities. This modern style of bishonen, originating in shojo manga, appeals foremost to girls and their aesthetic preferences, but it has influenced boys’ manga to re-style their male protagonists. These male protagonists have become feminine with delicate appearance and personality, although they are not as strongly feminine as bishonen images. Bishonen in today’s anime/manga

114  Jin-Shiow Chen culture have become a part of visual aesthetics for young men, referring to any good-looking, handsome young man with no strong indication of sexual status. However, these characters are not stereotypically feminine. Bishonen characters are endowed with certain powerful attributes, portrayed with traits belonging to a hero/protagonist, such as: “(1) comedic cleverness, (2) martial art ability, (3) sports talent, (4) high intelligence, and (5) rational integrity” (Chen, 2007, p. 97). Because of its cross-genre ­tendency, today’s bishonen style has become tremendously popular in Taiwan’s anime/manga culture and continues to influence popular culture generally. Whether the hero is from shonen or shojo manga, these feminized ­characters have become more attractive to female fans (personal conversations with fans, August 5, 2014). That is why many of the top 10 most handsome characters in Taiwan’s anime/manga fandom are from shonen manga. The top 10 characters are Train Heartnet from Black Cat, Yuki Eiri from G ­ ravitation, Subaru Sumeragi from Tokyo Babylon, Rukawa Kaede from Slam Dunk, Fujiwarano Sai from Hikaru no Go, Harries Cain from Earl Cain, Youzen from Hoshin Engi, Count D from Pet Shop, Muraki Kazutaka from Yami no Matsuei, and Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho. These characters are respected as classic, retaining the leading positions in the bishonen/meixingnan ranks and never going out of fashion. These rankings demonstrate today’s bishonen style and aesthetic preferences in Taiwan. Like bishojo, bishonen characters are also presented as various types, but certain essential features keep them together as a style. Anime/manga fans have no difficulties identifying their features when asked to describe the visual characteristics of bishonen. The following is a summary of fans’ responses: 1 Overall appearance: personalized hairstyle, no matter how long the hair is; thin, long, and feminized face with skin tender as snow and delicate as jade, usually dashing eyebrows, bright eyes, high nose, cute mouth, and a triangular chin; in a sense, he might look like a bishojo, but his eyes are thinner and longer and not as large as hers and his facial contours are a little sharper and harsher. A bishonen must be tall, ­slender, and fit, with broad shoulders, long arms and legs, a slender waist, and an uplifted hip; his proportions range from a ratio of 1:9 to 1:10. 2 Character features: Generally speaking, most fans believe that a b ­ ishonen must be kindhearted, gentle, bright, sunny, intuitive, righteous, diligent, sporty, talented, and charming. Some prefer a conflicted personality: coldhearted, stubborn, snobbish, autistic, dispirited, and a social outcast on the surface but good-natured inside and persistent in love. 3 Outfits: As mentioned in the bishojo section, these elements are important to a bishonen character. The hairstyle and clothing design must be appropriate to match the character. If he is a noble person, usually he has long but well-modeled hair and wears a long, flowing gown. If he is a fighter, he tends to have short, stylish hair and wears warrior garments.

Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful  115 As is evident from the above descriptions, bishojo and bishonen characters ­represent a visual style different from the traditional portraiture. The bishojo and bishonen images are marked by flatness, fictiveness, and decorativeness; traditional portraiture is more likely to capture the likeness of a real person—an imitation of what we see. They are, therefore, different in their use of p ­ ictorial language, including formal elements, patterns, and drawing techniques. BISHOJO AND BISHONEN CHARACTERS AS VISUAL SYMBOLS At the CWT and FF, it is common to see large posters of bishojo or bishonen characters as iconic symbols promoting the products for sale as well as representing the fan artists or dojin groups, telling us what genres or styles of fan art they make. These images of bishojo and bishonen are not ­simply beautiful images; they have implied meanings that are more than skindeep. The anime/manga fans’ responses to survey questions on bishojo and ­bishonen characters indicate a complicated underlying symbolic system intertwined with various complicated sources of meaning and communication. Bishojo and bishonen are superhumanly beautiful; as respondent J said, “Such beauty makes them look like they live in the celestial sphere or in heaven.” Respondent K also mentioned that “[m]any bishojo and bishonen are so beautiful that they are more like celestial beings coming down to the earth.” Similarly, many fans think bishojo and bishonen are often too beautiful to be true, that they can only exist in dreams, an unreachable ideal. Respondent B related that “[b]ishojo and bishonen are not from real life. They tend to be perfect performers on stages.” Some respondents mentioned that they are just like princesses and princes from Western fairy tales. Bishojo and bishonen often represent some supreme quality of humankind. These characters might not be nice, as they could be devils or villains, but they usually possess a strong disposition toward integrity and persistence in love. They could sacrifice everything except love. To them, love is the only power that is eternal and can transcend death, time, and space. Respondent A stated that “[b]ishojo and bishonen characters become even more affecting and charming when they remain firmly faithful to love in a tragic life. They define eternal love.” In a sense, these characters represent eternal love. Bishojo and bishonen are also considered to be the keepers of truth and righteousness, fighting for these values no matter how difficult and chaotic the situation. Their beautiful images are just like water lilies growing from the mud, fresh and outstanding. These characters often appear to be elites, leaders who energize the world. Respondent D remarked, “It is not common to see bishojo and b ­ ishonen as mediocre or vulgar characters. That simply doesn’t fit.” This comment apparently refers to the fact that bishojo and bishonen represent the essential values of quality and goodness. In addition to these virtues, bishojo and

116  Jin-Shiow Chen bishonen are often crowned as characters of great fortitude and courage, standing up to all difficulties and challenges. They become even tougher and braver when the situation gets worse. We can compare them to plum blossoms: the plum trees bloom more magnificently when the temperature gets colder and harsher. The above analysis and discussion has described the symbolic traits of bishojo and bishonen imagery. There are many more traits, referring to other virtues and great deeds, but we can only share a few examples in this study. In sum, the symbolic system of bishojo and bishonen is similar to the Chinese system of using pine, bamboo, plum, orchid, and lotus to analogize the ­virtues of a gentleman. Thus, bishojo and bishonen images are not only products of anime/manga culture, but also situated in a broad context of iconic and semantic cultures in East Asia. Like many popular visual images they contain layers of meaning that are intertwined as a rhizomatic flux (Wilson & Toku, 2004) and a cultural site/sight in that their visual aesthetic realm and semantic territory are embedded deeply in both anime/manga subculture and traditional Japanese culture. As Lotman (2000) stated, “A visual sign holds within it the history of itself and the relationship with cultural memory (tradition) already formed in the consciousness of the audience” (p. 18). ­According to Smith-Shank (2004), “an artifact continues to accumulate more and more cultural information as it intersects with different times and cultures” (p. viii). In this anime/manga fandom, bishojo and bishonen imagery can be seen as a complex entity of cultural synthesis, a mixture of the traditional and the new, the global and the local, the elitist and the popular. ENGAGED IN THE VISUAL POWER OF BISHOJO AND BISHONEN IMAGES As the most outstanding images in anime/manga culture, bishojo and bishonen characters are indeed very important to Taiwanese fans. These beautiful images function differently for different people, but their influential power is twofold: to energize the creative forces of the community and to serve an important psychological function to the members. The first refers mainly to application of the artistic style, drawing skills, and pictorial language; the second, to reading or looking at these images for psychological comfort. Thousands of bishojo and bishonen pictures and products displayed for sale in CWT and FF have demonstrated Taiwanese fan artists’ drawing skills and pictorial language. Along with the consumption of these beautiful images, these youngsters also assimilate the language and skills for ­artistic expression. Many of them draw so well that their drawings of bishojo and bishonen look very professional. Other than portraying bishojo and bishonen characters, they also apply these beautiful images to all kinds of interesting products: mugs, pillows, bags, bookmarks, shopping bags, magnets, buttons, postcards, and many others.

Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful  117 Taiwanese youngsters are very good at mixing different styles of figure drawings to create new hybrids featuring Taiwan’s anime/manga fan culture with unique, local colors. These youngsters feel free to combine or integrate different subjects, themes, and art styles from various resources such as t­ raditional arts, local folk arts, and popular culture. For instance, combining the styles of bishojo and bishonen characters with those of PiLi puppet heroes (from the PiLi television show) and heroines has become popular during the past decade. PiLi puppet drama evolved from Taiwan’s traditional puppet drama in the 1990s, featuring puppets that are much larger and have fancier outfits. Another combination is uniting the visual style of bishojo and bishonen images with that of ancient Chinese figure drawing. The fan artists take resources from movies such as The Lord of the Rings and The Pirates of the Caribbean to enrich their drawings. Not only do these images benefit the spread of anime/ manga fan culture, but they are also very rewarding to the readers. CONCLUSION The “beautiful” anime/manga images of bishojo and bishonen, set in Japanese culture, constitute a unique language with an organization of ­ visual patterns, forms, and styles. They form a semantic system, reworked and hybridized to breed new types and possibilities in the cultural contexts of Taiwan’s anime/manga fandom. They are like a matrix of virtual beings, keeping the organic body growing, evolving, and thriving. As the imagery becomes more diverse, the visual force is propelled ever faster. And as the influential power spreads, economic benefits boom as well. This style of beauty and its popularity in Taiwan’s anime/manga fan culture suggests the group’s aesthetic preferences within their own cultural undertakings. Bishojo images have not evolved directly from girls’ manga, but they have retained a close relationship with it. Painting bishojo images with more feminine characteristics tends to please both male and female readers. The modern style of bishonen emerging from girls’ manga is especially targeted to the female. Even in boys’ manga, most heroes/heroines and major characters are colored in bishojo-bishonen tones. Apparently, girls’ manga, feminine expressions, and girls’ aesthetic values now dominate the anime/manga art genres and systems of signification, and are also taking a leading role in energizing the entire culture to grow and prosper.

NOTES 1. These dojin conventions are fan gatherings, allowing fan (amateur) artists to show, share, and sell their creative work and products, including manga dojinshis (fan art and amateur manga). The most famous one in Tokyo is called Comiket (Comic Market).

118  Jin-Shiow Chen 2. Comic World Taiwan evolved from Comic World. Comic World remained prosperous until 2001 when the partnership broke up into two independent organizations. The one run by S.E. Inc. was entitled Comic World SE, while the one run by the JB Comic Store was called Comic World Taiwan, abbreviated as CWT. These two began to compete with each other by running more events. ­Unfortunately, by the end of 2001, the JB Comic Store went bankrupt and was forced to trade the CWT to the Taiwan Dojinshi Digital Company. After reorganizing and updating the CWT, the new owner rewound CWT 10 to CWT 1 in 2003 to signify a new start. In 2004, S. E. Inc. stopped running Comic World SE and withdrew its business from Taiwan. 3. As CWSE and CWT were faltering, another new force, Fancy Frontier, rose up. Fancy Frontier was organized and managed solely by the Fancy Frontier Board of the Duwei Advertising Cooperation, a domestic company with a group of young experts on anime/manga dojin circles. Fancy Frontier was first held on October 5–6, 2002, at the World Trade Center in Taipei. This event was a great success, attracting around 400 dojin groups (vendors) and over 10,000 anime/manga fans who were highly impressed with the spacious exhibition hall and activities such as Special Guests’ Talks, Stage Performances, Newly Released Anime, and so on. 4. In 2004, Fancy Frontier 3 began using the National Taiwan University (NTU) Gymnasium, where Comic World Taiwan, CWT 4, had been held in 2003. It was quite confusing for some that these two conventions were held at the same place. CWT 6 and FF 3, and CWT 9 and FF5 were held on the same dates and caused conflict. However, after these conflicts, the two organizers coordinated to set an evenly spaced, considerate timetable to avoid further conflicts. 5. Galbraith (2009) describes moe as “a euphoric response to fantasy characters or representations of them” (http://www.japanesestudies.org.uk/articles/2009/ Galbraith.html). Although the term moe (萌え) is often bound with otaku circles and the video game fan groups that are dominated by young males, it is also used by female fans of yaoi, a genre of manga featuring male homosexual romance (Galbraith, 2009). The usage of moe is not gender bound, nor is it limited only to human characters in anime, manga, and games. This is particularly obvious since the term moe has transitioned to mass culture. According to Shingo (2011), the term moe can be used as a verb, an adjective, an interjection, and a noun. (http://www.heiseidemocracy.net/2011/12/05/from-the-archive-the-moe-image). 6. Erokawaii-kei moe can be any of four types: junai-kei moe, otome-kei moe, erokawaii-kei moe, or denpa-kei moe, as classified by Shingo (2011). The term erokawaii-kei moe refers to “images in which the moe heroine is sexualized, to an extent limited by a) her innocence and b) her consent, for the benefit of the male viewer or his narrative proxy” (Shingo, 2011, http://www.heiseidemocracy.net/2011/12/05/from-the-archive-the-moe-image). This type of moe is found commonly in erotic anime, manga, and games. It is also called lolicon. 7. The heroines are commonly found in nonsexual “yuri [girls’ love] such as ­Marimite and in anime/manga such as Kamichu, Kokoro Library, and Y ­ okohama Kaidashi Kikou” (Shingo, 2011). 8. Sailor Moon was published in a monthly manga anthology from 1991 to 1995 and then adapted as an anime television series airing in Japan in 1997 (­ Wikipedia, 2012, http://en.wikipedia.org/?title=Sailor_Moon). Sailor Moon became extremely popular in the 1990s, spreading like wildfire from Japan to Asia, then to Europe and America.

Beautiful, Meaningful, and Powerful  119 9. The prefix bi- refers to the adjective ‘beautiful’, and shonen to the noun ‘boy’. This prefix bi-, however, is generally used for a good-looking woman, rather than a boy or a man. So when a boy or a young man is described as beautiful, he is often featured with feminine qualities (Chen, 2007, p. 97).

REFERENCES Chen, J. S. (2007). “A Vision of Multiple Genders: Cross-Cultural Learning in Asian Countries from Images of Kuan Yin and ‘bishonen.’” Journal of Cultural Research in Art Education 25: 91–103. Chen, J. S. (2011). “A Study of the Taste for Beautiful Figure Images in Taiwan’s Manga Fan Culture: With a Focus on ‘bishojo and bishonen’ images.” Visual Arts Forum 6: 2–30. Galbraith, P. W. (2009). Moe: Exploring Virtual Potential in Post-millennial Japan. http://www.japanesestudies.org.uk/articles/2009/Galbraith.html (Retrieved May 2, 2014). Gravett, P. (2004). Manga: Sixty Years of Japanese Comics. London: Laurence King. Hills, M. (2002). Fan Cultures. London: Routledge. Jenkins, H. (1992). Textual Poachers: Television Fans and Participatory Culture. London: Routledge. Kinsella, S. (2000). Adult Manga: Culture and Power in Contemporary Japanese Society. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press. Lotman, Y. M. (2000). Universe of the Mind: A Semiotic Theory of Culture. ­Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Napier, S. J. (2000) Anime from Akira to Princess Mononoke: Experiencing ­Contemporary Japanese Animation. New York: Palgrave. Ross, C. (2007). “Sailor Moon.” THEM Anime Reviews 4.0. http://www.themanime. org/viewreview.php?id=405 (Retrieved December 31, 2012). Sasakibara, G. (2004). Modern History of Beautiful Girls: Moe and Character. Tokyo: Kodansha-shinsho. Shingo. (2011). “The Moe Image.” In Modern Visual Culture Digest. http://www.heise idemocracy.net/2011/12/05/from-the-archive-the-moe-image (Retrieved April 25, 2014). Smith-Shank, D. L. (2004). Introduction. In D. L. Smith-Shank (ed.), Semiotics and Visual Culture: Sights, Signs, and Significance. Reston, VA: National Art Education Association. Wilson, B., and Toku, M. (2004). “‘Boys’ Love,’ Yaoi, and Art Education: Issues of Power and Pedagogy.” In D. L. Smith-Shank (ed.), Semiotics and Visual Culture: Sights, Signs, and Significance (pp. 94–103). Reston, VA: National Art Education Association.

WEBSITE REFERENCES Wikipedia. (Retrieved 2012). Sailor Moon. http://en.wikipedia.org/?title= Sailor_Moon. Wikipedia. (Retrieved 2011). Bishonen. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bishonen.

11 Revisiting Manga High Literacies, Identities, and the Power of Shojo Manga on New York City Youths Michael Bitz

INTRODUCTION Six years ago, the most influential group of manga creators in the world graduated from high school. Well, they were the most influential in their own lives at least, and not all of them graduated, but their dedication to reading, writing, and publishing manga was unparalleled. These were the kids from Manga High, a book that I published in 2009. Manga High highlighted the work and lives of a group of African-American and Latino teenagers at ­Martin Luther King, Jr. High School (MLKHS) in New York City between 2004 and 2008. The youths were participants in the Comic Book Project (www.ComicBookProject.org), a literacy initiative that I founded, which guides students in writing, designing, and publishing original comic books. The connection that the MLKHS students had with manga was apparent to me from the first time I met them. They each had sketchbooks full of original manga characters and snippets of storylines in progress. Despite poverty, hardships at home, and a dysfunctional school, the group eventually developed into a full-scale manga production team, producing works in print and online for a small but dedicated readership. I realized quickly that the high schoolers were not just manga fans—they were devoted scholars. “Manga is my life,” one of them said to me in our first meeting. MANGA AND IDENTITY It may be surprising to some that manga represents a teenager in New York City, rather than hip-hop music, graffiti, or any other medium typically associated with urban teens. After all, manga is distinctly representative of the national Japanese identity. Brent Wilson (1988, 1999) highlighted links between manga and Japanese children, who at the age of six created manga when asked to design a sequential story. Masami Toku (2001) analyzed the influence of manga on Japanese teenagers; through manga, they gain interest in making art over time, unlike most other adolescents. As a result, the Japan Ministry of Education has even included manga in its national curriculum.

Revisiting Manga High  121 Yet none of that mattered to the students at MLKHS. They simply loved manga. And in doing so, they were breaking stereotypes of what they were “supposed” to be. By embracing manga, the teens burst through what Mary Louise Pratt (1993, 1996) defined as a “contact zone,” where a person meets, clashes, and grapples with accepted societal norms and practices. These high school students defined and redefined themselves through manga: their fashion styles, speech patterns, literary pursuits, even their names—many of the teens adopted Japanese monikers for themselves like Yumi and Satori. Moreover, the club at MLKHS was founded in the culture surrounding manga. Japanese children and adults spend extensive time creating their own manga individually or in clubs called dojinshi groups or circles. The youths at MLKHS mimicked the practice in Japan through their own manga production club. In one sense, the MLKHS club related to the students’ desires to embrace manga in its totality, including the Japanese practice of self-production and publishing. But for most of the students, the club was an opportunity to be creative. The students did not have regular art classes in school, and creative writing was a minor component of the high school English language arts curriculum, especially as the school year approached the time for the state-mandated Regents exams required for graduation. WHY SHOJO MANGA? It is important to note that the youth participants from MLKHS were not passionate about comics in general; they were into manga. Much of that ­passion was for shojo manga, especially for the girls in the club, though many of the boys also read female-centric manga. Many of the youths’ original characters were shojo in style: schoolgirl outfits with miniskirts and neckties. The sexual ethos and eroticism in manga were intriguing to MLKHS students. These teens were themselves beginning sexual development, and shojo manga became an outlet for dealing with pressures of sex, flirting, relationships, and all the hardships of teenage life. The female members of the comic book club at MLKHS found loveoriented plotlines in shojo manga intriguing. They discussed the plots with each other and quizzed one another on the facts of the stories. They engaged deeply in the lives of the characters and argued about shojo heroines. They held lengthy discussions about which characters were the prettiest and who was the luckiest. This influence of shojo is clearly evident in the manga ­created by the female club members. Their manga often incorporated complex love stories between teens. For example, a manga by a student named Angel pits a boy against the heroine, who narrates about their scorn for each other, soon to be love. They call each other names and cause trouble for each other, and yet they continue to hang around together. One can picture a similar relationship between actual teens, one day teasing one another and the next day kissing in the hallway.

122  Michael Bitz The shojo manga created by the female students was more a reflection of their devotion to manga than a retelling of their actual love relationships. The girls created manga as an artistic passion and literary pursuit, but the light love stories of their own making also seemed to provide a release from the high demands of high school dating, including the all-­ consuming ­decision to enter a sexual relationship. The manga developed by these ­students may have incorporated elements of eroticism in the character designs, but the characters themselves never had physical contact that was more than a brief kiss. The students certainly pondered these issues of love and sex as their pencils drafted the characters—their poses and placement in the panels of the manga, whether the boy should be physically close to the girl or separated by white space on the page. Rarely did the girls vocalize these considerations to other club members; the synthesis of thoughts and ideas was contained in their art and writing. It was not only the girls in the club who sought these soap-operatic love stories in their comic books. As suggested earlier, some of the boys read shojo manga as well, and their interest was reflected in the characters and stories that they, too, created. The boys’ stories that involved emotional relationships tended toward the melodramatic as opposed to the girls’ lighthearted romances. Most of the boys’ manga, however, did not revolve around love relationships, but instead featured the martial arts and action of shonen manga, intended for boys. Yet even these action-oriented comics by the boys incorporated overtones of romance. In one story by a male participant, the male hero of the story ponders whether or not to release his female lover from an evil spell. Love blinds him, as the woman is transformed into a superhuman demon who kills with a magic sword. Beyond love and sexual themes are a number of shojo manga elements that especially attracted the MLKHS youths. One is the lack of superheroes. The youths were disillusioned with the promise of the superhero comic books produced by Western publishers like Marvel and DC. These classic superhero comics focus on two people: the hero and the villain. But unlike the characters in Western comics, the MLKHS students’ life experiences in New York City were complex and multifaceted. The many twists and turns in shojo manga reflected the students’ lives more realistically than the ­Western comics, even though the characters and stories were fantastical. Through the medium, the high schoolers simultaneously celebrated an art form while reflecting on their own personal and cultural identities, which on the surface seemed to have very little in common with Japanese popular literature. But creative art and writing have special ways of breaking stereotypes, enabling a teenage African-American girl to express herself through the experiences of a doe-eyed manga character rather than those of Beyonce, Oprah ­Winfrey, or any other woman of color who might have been a presumed representative of identity. In that vein, the superheroes that so often symbolize the United States as a nation and society have missed their mark when it comes to connecting with many of the students in the MLKHS comic book club.

Revisiting Manga High  123 Another element of shojo manga that lured the youths was its commitment to the mundane and the ordinary. They enjoyed reading page after page of a conversation between two acquaintances, an exchange that held no more point than some simple bonding among friends. In another story, a new transfer student wandered the halls. He was not picked on by b ­ ullies, nor did he find new friends. He just wandered alone and was ignored. Another plotline featured a girl who daydreamed about being famous, ­trying on different personalities over the course of a manga. These were the storylines that attracted the students at MLKHS. In turn, the manga that many of the students created concerned daily life experiences. A ­waitress in a diner lamented about her boss. A girl and her cat searched for a ­particularly tasty beef stew. A boy argued with his stepparents before storming out of the apartment. The very same occurrences happened in the lives of the student manga creators and their friends. Hence, the manga character who struggled in school, sought a new girlfriend, or needed to clean the house came across as sympathetic and representational to the high school club members, even though some of those characters sported fox ears or bat wings. One student put it best in her critique of a friend’s draft of a new manga. The story featured a fairy who would fly above lonely teenagers, tap them on the shoulder, and grant them new and improved love lives. The student criticized the work by saying, “There’s too much action here. The fairy should take more time, just talk or do some paperwork or something. This kind of action doesn’t happen in real life. Real life is boring.” The student critic did not focus on the unreality of a story based on a magical fairy. Rather, she criticized the fact that the fairy never stopped to fill out the required forms. This recognition of and appreciation for the daily grind—subway, school, subway, job, homework, sleep, repeat—kept the students focused on the requirements of making manga over the course of a school year. Their process was tedious: character sketches, plot outlines, light pencil drafts, panel designs and layouts, inking, computer finishes. It took the entire year for the most dedicated students to complete a four- or five-page manga. This commitment to their craft impressed outside observers. One afternoon a representative from the New York City Department of Education came to observe the MLKHS comic book club. The woman was astounded at the number of drafts the students had produced in readying the work for publication at the end of the school year. She asked the students about their time management and how they were able to accomplish their homework, study for tests, and all the other requirements of school while staying true to their mission of producing wellcrafted manga. One veteran club member, a senior, responded: “This is like a nagging habit, like smoking. But you can’t die from this. Well, maybe you can. I know my mom wants to kill me for all the time I spend with manga.”

ABOUT THE CLUB So who are the kids of Manga High? They were participants in an after-school comic book club at MLKHS. During school, many of these students—African-American and Latino males and females—struggled ­ academically and socially. But after school, when the grade books were

124  Michael Bitz closed and the textbooks were tossed back into lockers, these same ­students—so disengaged from the life of the classroom—became highly

motivated through the process of writing, designing, and publishing original comic books. If you imagine these American students inventing new versions of ­Superman, Wonder Woman, or any other popular American superhero, ­prepare for a surprise. The adolescents who convened every Thursday afternoon to create comics were fully entrenched in manga. They consumed volume after volume of their favorite series such as Bleach and D.Gray-Man, which were originally published in Japanese and then translated into English. The students’ own comic book creations reflected their devotion to manga: characters with saucer-shaped eyes and flowing hair, storylines with unlikely twists and turns, and an aesthetic focused on the whimsical rather than the super-powerful.

Figure 11.1  Student manga from MLKHS.

Revisiting Manga High  125 Many of the students adopted Japanese nicknames, and they began to teach themselves some Japanese words and phrases. Some imagined themselves visiting Tokyo, interspersed among thousands of people at a dojinshi convention for amateur comic book creators just like them. The club’s meetings on Thursday afternoons became a haven for creative and social development for the participating teenagers. They eagerly opened their sketchbooks and drafted Japanese-inspired designs while developing and sharing storylines related to their personal and cultural identities. The weekly club meetings were also a sturdy buttress for literacy development. In planning and designing their comics, the students amassed an extraordinary amount of writing. They explored narrative elements of tone and atmosphere with their word choices. They delved into the complexities of punctuation and sentence structure in considering the voice of a character and how the reader would perceive the text. And in publishing and distributing their original manga, these students gained recognition as writers and artists in New York City and beyond. ABOUT THE STUDENTS The high school participants in this club acted as a cohort—a collective of likeminded artists and writers wholeheartedly dedicated to the craft

Figure 11.2  Sketchbook excerpt from Samantha.

126  Michael Bitz of manga. Yet they were also individuals, each with a unique style and approach, and each with a different set of life circumstances outside of the clubroom. Samantha, for example, used her sketchbook as a personal diary, transforming her everyday experiences into manga stories. Another student, Reggie, designed a comic book featuring AfricanAmerican samurai warriors. In contrast to the random violence that marked Reggie’s life, his characters systematized violent confrontations through scheduled battles. Following the code of the samurai, they fought for justice and respect with a combination of personal convictions and sharp swords.

Figure 11.3  African-American samurai from Reggie.

And Keith, a boy who struggled with abuse and homelessness, ­developed a comic book character named the Hunter who, in Keith’s words, represented “my dark persona, or at least how my persona would’ve been if I decided to go about solving my problems the angry and negative way.”

Revisiting Manga High  127

Figure 11.4  Comic book excerpt from Keith.

REVISITING MANGA HIGH Many things have changed in the world since Manga High was first published, and even more so since the project at MLKHS concluded over six years ago. With the time that has passed, we can revisit the lives of the students and adults who were at the core of the comic book club at MLKHS. But first an update on MLKHS itself: the Opening Doors, Building Bridges after-school program closed in 2009. The push for smaller schools in New York City resulted in six separate schools occupying the floors of MLKHS. Each school was required to establish its own community partnerships and student support programs, which quickly competed for space and resources in the crowded building. The Opening Doors–Building Bridges program could not survive in this environment. As a result, the after-school program and its now renowned comic book club no longer exist.

128  Michael Bitz On a happier note, all of the people involved in the comic book club at MLKHS—at least those who are still in communication—are alive and well. The former comic book club members communicate on Facebook, which has become a forum to share updates and new experiences. The Facebook group also provides an opportunity to reminisce. Keith wrote in a post: “Seeing this group and all its members sure do bring back memories of the first year that that club got started. Oh the sweet memories, lol!!!” The adults who were so instrumental in launching the comic book club continue to work in the field of education. Rebecca Fabiano, dubbed Ms. Fab by the students, moved to Philadelphia in 2008 after leaving New York City and the Opening Doors–Building Bridges program. For over two years she was the Senior Director of Strategic Partnerships and Capacity Building for the Philadelphia Youth Network. She is currently an adjunct professor at the Community College of Philadelphia and teaches a course called Foundations of Youth Work. Rebecca also travels the world and blogs about her experiences as she goes. Patricia Ayala, the project assistant, stayed in New York City until 2010 to complete her doctorate in art education at Teachers College, Columbia University; she wrote her dissertation on the comic book club at MLKHS, titled “Comic Books and the Experience of Self-fulfillment: A Study with High School Students.” She moved back to Mexico with her daughter and now teaches art history at the Fine Arts Institute at the University of Colima. Also, Patricia runs the Comic Book Project with a group of elementary-age students in Colima. Phil DeJean—Mr. D.—was the closest teacher to the students at MLKHS and still is. As the leader of the club, he communicates with the students frequently and held a reunion of comic book club members in July 2010. Phil is even working on some comics-related projects with former students at MLKHS. At the time of Manga High’s publication, he had been placed in a “rubber room” by the New York City Department of Education; essentially, he was removed from his teaching position and put on probation. Phil did not get along with the principal of MLKHS, who was a disciplinarian and did not approve of Phil’s creative approach to teaching and lack of classroom management. Phil eventually won his case and returned to teaching art in New York City. He writes: “I felt my experiences with the comic book club helped me realize one can pull people with talents together and work on some really cool stuff that can culminate in a beautiful finished product one can hold in ones hands. Stuff that could inspire and entertain or even educate others.” And now for the students. Stardaisha lives in Dallas, Texas, where she attends the Art Institute. She recently launched her own comic book club there, which is now thriving. Samantha continues to draw manga in her spare time, but she works long hours as a line chef at Shake Shack, one of New York City’s trendiest restaurants. Treasure, too, continues to draw, although her art has expanded beyond manga. She writes: “I only got one go

Revisiting Manga High  129 at life and I’m smiling and being happy all the way to the bitter end.” Erick has retired from his service in Afghanistan with the United States Army. He is attending a community college in Florida while he works full time at a retail store. Like Erick, Reggie works at a retail store; in addition, Reggie launched his own media and entertainment company called Platinum Age Media: “a home for a wide variety of talents and great creative minds.” The goal of Platinum Age Media is to support new artists and give them a physical and online space to promote and sell their art, music, and other media. Other students featured in Manga High—C-Wiz, Kischer, and Tenzin—were unable to be found. I hope that they are leading happy and successful lives. Keith was one student in a very precarious situation at the time Manga High was first published. He had been shuffled through many foster homes and eventually ended up homeless. I have to admit that I did not predict a positive outcome for Keith, with so many challenges in his life. And yet Keith is doing remarkably well. He lives in the Bronx and continues to create comics and other art. Moreover, he is a foster youth advocate who speaks frequently to the City Council about issues related to foster care, homelessness, and the school system. As most anyone looking back on their work from high school might, Keith chuckles at the content of his comics. He writes: “Jack Snipe the cyborg ninja battling the evil forces of Madam Mistress with the help of his brother Pyro. Lol!! Gosh what in the name of the almighty sketchbook and never drying micron ink pen was I thinking back then!!!” But we adults know that the sketchbook and pen kept Keith alive during his most troubled times. No, none of the kids of Manga High became famous manga creators. This was never the purpose or goal of the comic book club. The purpose was to support young artists and writers in their effort to survive high school and find a place in the world. In that, we succeeded.

REFERENCES Bitz, Michael. (2009). Manga High: Literacy, Identity, and Coming of Age in an Urban High School. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Education Press. Pratt, Mary Louise. (1993). Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation. New York: Routledge. Pratt, Mary Louise. (1996). “Arts of the Contact Zone.” In Ways of Reading, 4th ed., edited by David Bartholomae and Anthony Petroksky, pp. 528–542. Boston: St. Martin’s Press. Toku, Masami. (2001). “What Is Manga? The Influence of Pop Culture in ­Adolescent Art.” Art Education 54(2): 11–17. Wilson, Brent. (1988). “The Artistic Tower of Babel: Inextricable Links Between C ­ ulture and Graphic Development.” In Discerning Art: Concepts and Issues, edited by George W. Hardman and Theodore Zernich, pp. 488–506, Champaign, IL: Stipes. Wilson, Brent. (1999). “Becoming Japanese: Manga, Children’s Drawings, and the Construction of National Character.” Visual Arts Research 25(2): 48–60.

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Part III

Shojo Mangaka Profiles and Interviews with Manga Critics and Shojo Mangaka (Girls’ Comic Artists)

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12 Profile and Interview with Fusanosuke Natsume

Figure 12.1  The front cover of “Why Is Manga So Interesting?” (1997).

Fusanosuke Natsume (b. August 18, 1950) is one of the foremost manga critics in Japan and a professor at Gakushuin University, Tokyo since 2008. Born in Tokyo to violinist Junichi Natsume and harpist Yoneko Natsume, Natsume is also well known as the grandson of Soseki ­Natsume, one of the most prominent novelists in modern Japanese literature and Nobel

134  Profile and Interview with Fusanosuke Natsume Prize candidate. Fusanosuke Natsume started his career as an illustrator and a mangaka (cartoonist) after graduating from Aoyama U ­ niversity in 1973.  Emerging from the shadow of his grandfather, Natsume has gradually garnered fame as a manga critic, especially for his writings on Osamu Tezuka (1928–1989), the god of manga in Japan, for example, “Tezuka Osamu wa Doko ni Iru? (Where is Osamu Tezuka?)” published in 1992. Since then he has published numerous books on manga and teaches in a cultural studies graduate program on corporeal and visual representation. Natsume’s greatest achievement as a manga critic is his method of analyzing manga as visual components that he calls the grammar of manga: pictures, frames and words. This methodology is also called “Manga Hyogen-ron (Manga Express Theory).” Although Natsume calls himself simply a “manga columnist,” he is a kind of mentor and very influential to many researchers from various research backgrounds. After Masami Toku encountered Natsume’s unique analysis of the visual components of manga, she developed her own analysis of the influence of manga in children’s pictorial worlds using semiotic signs. In recognition of Natsume’s contribution to the world of manga, he was awarded the 3rd Tezuka Osamu Culture Special Prize sponsored by the Asahi Shimbun Company in 1999. INTERVIEWER:  How and when did you first encounter shojo manga? NATSUME: I don’t remember clearly. But if you count Tezuka’s Ribon

no Kishi (Princess Knight) and Toshiko Ueda’s Fuichin-san as shojo manga, I must have seen it when I was little in the shojo manga magazines that my older sister used to read. The next “encounter” was in shojo manga magazines and single-story manga books that she used to read when she was in college. The first work that really left an impression on me was Riyoko Ikeda’s The Rose of Versailles. INTERVIEWER: What were your favorites among the manga you used to read? And what makes them your favorites? NATSUME: My favorites as a kid were Tezuka’s manga. The colors were beautiful, like in Disney animation. I just liked Tezuka’s manga. The shojo manga that I started to read because of my sister’s influence was a series of works by Ryoko Yamagishi. I especially liked the ones where she kind of experimented in dealing with the subconscious mind. I feel her manga is easy to read for men as well. INTERVIEWER:  Do you recommend any shojo manga that you are reading now or have read recently? And why do you recommend them? NATSUME:  I recommend Reiko Shimizu’s Himitsu (The Top Secret, a serial in Melody bi-monthly magazine), which ended recently. It is very entertaining as a near-future psychological mystery. I also recommend another serial in the same magazine, Melody, Mikoto Asou’s Soko wo Nantoka, a comedy about lawyers. It is entertaining and also educational. I also

Profile and Interview with Fusanosuke Natsume  135 have been reading Haruko Kumoda’s Showa Genroku Rakugo ­Shinjuu (a serial in BE LOVE bi-weekly magazine) because I  like rakugo [a ­traditional form of comic storytelling in Japan]. INTERVIEWER: When you compare today’s shojo manga and the shojo manga you used to read as a young child, what kind of transformation do you feel has happened over the years? NATSUME:  Boys’ manga hasn’t changed in that its focus has always simply been on “who’s the most powerful?” In contrast, I feel shojo manga has achieved far more profound and delicate expressions for the subtle mental psychology of human relations. INTERVIEWER:  In your personal opinion, what are the differences between shojo manga and boys’ manga? Could you give a few examples? NATSUME: Borrowing Yukari Fujimoto’s words, one difference is that human relationships ARE the main theme of shojo manga. Various techniques were developed in depicting subtleties such as ambiance, emotions, and a psychological sense of space and time. This happened after the mid-1960s when most shojo manga started to be drawn by female mangaka, and those techniques were brought to a high level by the 1980s. Some of the techniques have been adopted in manga for men, too. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the difference between Japanese shojo manga and foreign comics that are targeted at girls (if such a genre exists)? NATSUME:  Unfortunately, I cannot compare because I don’t know enough about foreign comics for women and girls. As far as I know, the female mangaka who have recently appeared in Europe seem to draw mostly in a confessional essay or autobiographical style, relying on traditional techniques of the graphic novel. Compared to that, I feel Japanese shojo manga relies more on developing a story starting with each manga’s main theme. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think are the reasons shojo manga was born as a genre in Japan and has developed there to a degree beyond comparison with the rest of the world? NATSUME:  One reason is historical continuity. The tradition of shojo magazines and shojo culture of the prewar era was succeeded by the newly realized form, shojo manga, in the postwar era. A second reason is that shojo manga fell into the hands of a generation of female authors who came after the generation educated in the postwar era (like myself). When this female generation reached its teens and twenties, youth ­culture was the trend around the world. And that context allowed manga to develop as a means of self-expression. This self-expression might have been stimulated by the gap between ideals of “liberation” after the defeat in war and the reality of a male dominated society. The economics of manga also helped of course. The market for Japanese children’s manga as a whole expanded in the 1960s and 1970s, and

136  Profile and Interview with Fusanosuke Natsume it diversified and continued to grow. It might have been just a lucky coincidence of history, when we compare that environment with comic bashing in the US in the 1950s. INTERVIEWER: Do you feel that Japanese shojo manga influences or has influenced girls’ comics or girls’ culture in other parts of the world? (For example, the sense of beauty, fashion, and so on). NATSUME:  Yes. Until recently, its main influence was in East Asia. However, it seems to be gradually spreading to Europe and other areas. I have the impression though that shojo manga’s influence is rather limited due to its role as a minority and counterculture in relation to European culture and values. INTERVIEWER: In what way do you think shojo manga will develop and change in Japan in the future? NATSUME:  I don’t have a good answer since shojo manga is not my specialty. However, I think the decline in publishing will continue and as a result the medium itself will change. INTERVIEWER:  What do you hope will happen with Japanese shojo manga in the future? NATSUME:  One possibility is its acceptance overseas and the birth of new trends as a result of shojo manga’s local adaptation and transformation. I say this might happen because I believe shojo manga culture, a culture that expresses the world of girls and women, is a culture unlike any that the rest of the world has ever experienced. INTERVIEWER:  Do you have any other thoughts you would like to share about shojo manga? NATSUME: I feel that shojo culture, including shojo manga, and Japanese women’s culture, including dojinshi magazines [self-published maga­ zines by groups of authors with similar interests], are fields that could greatly contribute to and impact views on women, for example, if gender theory was used for serious research in these areas. I hope young researchers around the world will work together on this subject in the future. (Interviewed by Masami Toku on May 23, 2014. Translated by ­Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

13 Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada

Figure 13.1 A poster of exhibition of “Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju and the artist Haruko Kumoda” (2014).

Tomoko Yamada (b. April 13, 1967) is a  critic and shojo manga (girls’ ­comics) researcher at the Yoshihiro Yonezawa Memorial Library of Manga and Subcultures, Meiji University, Japan. She has published an enormous number of articles related to issues in shojo manga, women’s studies, and  visual pop culture, and oversees many exhibitions related to shojo manga. After working as a curator at Kawasaki City Museum in Japan for 15 years, she moved to her present position in 2009. She has written extensively on the first generation of shojo manga artists from the period around W.W. II and now focuses on the golden era of shojo manga and the “Magnificent 24 Group” exploring questions of who defines the movement and who are the artists who changed the direction of manga in this period.

138  Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada INTERVIEWER:  How and when did you first encounter shojo manga? YAMADA:  I think it was when I was a third or fourth grader. It was the

first time I read all of a special issue of a shojo manga magazine (possibly Nakayoshi). I might have been a fifth grader when I seriously started to read manga, when my older sister bought me the gag strip comic compilation Kimidori Midoro Aomidoro (Yellowish Green, Green, ­Bluish-Green) created by Yoshiko Tsuchida. At that time, I clearly recognized that there were manga everywhere, everyday, including a manga section in bookstores, and I was absorbed in not only shojo manga but all types of manga. After that I poured all my pocket money into manga. I think that my parents worried very much at that time. INTERVIEWER: What were your favorites among the manga you used to read? And what makes them your favorites? YAMADA:  My favorite was Jurietta no Arashi (Jurietta’s Storm) published in 1973. It was a coming-of-age story where a princess, whose parents were guillotined, found the meaning of life through a journey while helping her ill brother. Imaginary lands were the stages (­ possibly based on France and Russia). She encountered the leader of the ­revolution, who was called Black Wolf, and had a love affair with him. It was frightful and my heart throbbed with excitement. Several ­installments followed, and were compiled into a book of about 100 pages ­altogether. Then Toshie Kihara’s “56,000,000 km no Koiuta” (“56,000,000 km Love Song”) from 1972. This might not be a special story, but it is a cute and romantic comedy about a couple whose parents arranged for them to live together. The man was a genius space engineer who did Mars rocket ­development. I learned from this shojo manga that Mars is 56,000,000 klometers from the earth at the nearest, and the character of Philip, who loves the man’s girlfriend, was also attractively drawn. I noticed later the beautiful rhythm of the words, the romantic development of the images, and how they fit into the love story. Finally is “Natsu no owari no totancho” (“G minor of the ­Summer’s End”) created by Yumiko Oshima (1977). The heroine’s parents are transferred to a different location because of a job. She remains behind to ­continue going to the same school. She moves in with her aunt, whom she always wanted to live with, as she had envied her family’s glamorous lifestyle in a European-style building. In fact, their life is not as rosy as it seems, and this turns out to be the story of a family that is breaking up. It is a heartbreaking story of family relationships that are not easy in spite of the fact that all family members desire to be close to each other. I am crazy about the style of Yumiko Oshima, the way she can represent a deep problem while throwing in humor and gentle visuals.

Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada  139 I am so sorry for the long list, but it’s hard to even narrow it down to only these three works among so many. These are all stories that I have reread many times, and I first encountered these works when I was a fifth grader (around 11 years old), although they were not the first editions of these works. INTERVIEWER:  Do you recommend any shojo manga that you are reading now or have read recently? And why do you recommend them? YAMADA:  Rather than a “girl’s manga,” I would recommend manga from magazines for adult women a little more, like Oku (The Inner ­Chambers) by Fumi Yoshinaga (2005–), and Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinjyu by Haruko Kumota (2011–) Oku is a fictional historical drama with women instead of men playing the leading roles in the Japanese society of the national seclusion era [a time when contact with foreign countries was forbidden with few exceptions]. It is exciting to have the simulated experience of living in the center of politics as a woman. However, the message coming through the work is that after all, both men and women are readily severe to live with, and it is holy, meanwhile, to live with faith. Rakugo Shinju is a dramatic story told with the traditional ­Japanese aesthetic of “Iki” (“style” or “flair”). People choose to die via double suicide rather than live separately (a very Japanese ­aesthetic). The story employs the Japanese traditional storytelling style of “rakugo.” A man plays the role of the woman as in Kabuki; in a sense it is “the world of the man.” Laughter is an important element, but there is a serious undertone to the drama of the people living in the world of the rakugo. I think it is interesting as a primer of rakugo. I’d like to hear comments about this story from foreign perspectives. It would be really interesting to hear their opinions. INTERVIEWER: When you compare today’s shojo manga and the shojo manga you used to read as a young child, what kind of transformation do you feel has happened over the years? YAMADA: The depiction of sex in manga for older teens may be more advanced than before. I think that comics always get close to the true world of the young readers, not the principles of adults. In the case of sex, it may be that the youth possibly enjoy learning things about sex through manga fiction that they don’t want to talk about with teachers or parents. INTERVIEWER:  In your personal opinion, what are the differences between shojo manga (girls’ comics) and shonen manga (boys’ comics)? Could you give a few examples? YAMADA: Shonen manga often value brute strength to advance toward ­success and victory. I feel shojo manga often value adaptability to the

140  Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada challenges of society in many ways, and flexibility when one cannot adapt to society. Of course, there are always exceptions. INTERVIEWER:  It is well known that you have been studying the golden age of shojo manga and the shojo mangaka (girls’ manga artists) of that era, called the “24 nen-gumi” (“Magnificent 24 Group”). What sparked your interest in the study of this group? YAMADA:  When I started to write the commentary for a shojo manga exhibition in 1998, I found that it was difficult to decide who belonged in the Magnificent 24 Group. INTERVIEWER:  Could you give us a general definition of the “Magnificent 24 Group”? Generally speaking, which mangaka should be included in the “Magnificent 24 Group”? I feel the meaning of this term varies among critics in various ways, so if you could tell us your own thoughts on this briefly, it would be great. YAMADA:  I think that I still need to collect and analyze information a ­little more from various sources to gauge the public opinion on this. But according to Japanese Wikipedia, where I feel this information is organized relatively well, the members are: Yasuko Aoike, Moto Hagio, ­Takemiya Keiko, Yumiko Oshima, Toshie Kihara, Ryoko Y ­ amagishi, Minori Kimura, Nanaeko Sasaya, Mineko Yamada, and Norie Masuyama. I believe that a good definition would include those who played an active part in the 70s era of shojo manga and are also innovators in girls’ comics in that period. However, according to this definition, Norie Masuyama would not be included since she is not a manga artist, although she was leader and great supporter of the members and possibly the highest profile member of the Magnificent 24 Group, eagerly promoting them. INTERVIEWER:  As for your own personal opinion, which people should be included in this group and why? YAMADA: Both Moto Hagio and Keiko Takemiya surely belong to the ­Magnificent 24 group. No matter who discusses the group, these two are definitely included. Among the shojo mangaka who made their debut afterward in the late 60s and played an active part in the 70s, I am wondering if those artists should be included in the Magnificent 24 Group who were kind of heterodox and tried to do something new rather than what the general expectations were for the magazine. I personally think that Yasuko Aoike, Yumiko Oshima, Toshie Kihara, and Ryoko Yamagishi might belong in this group. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think was the contribution of the Magnificent 24 and the influence that they had on subsequent comics? YAMADA:  In the 70s, female comic artists who were not of the ­Magnificent 24 Group began to strive for “the new thing, the unprecedented” in Japan. It was about the same time that a second wave of feminism spread from the United States throughout the world. But this was not

Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada  141 a “feminist” movement; rather, it was a kind of wave of female mangaka continuing to create manga qualitatively and quantitatively as well as male mangaka. As a result, they created rich works. Among those female mangaka of the 70s, I suppose the Magnificent 24 Group was a group of female mangaka who more seriously looked for and imagined “new human relations” through their works. These human relations were not the simple blood relationship between parent and child, but, for example, the works might have been created as a result of the experimentation that embodied and visualized the love between men from a female point of view such as in Poem of Winds and Trees and Thomas’ Heart. This leads to the development of the genre in Japanese publishing called “Boys’ Love” now. It was also pointed out that there was a problem of women stereotyping male homosexuals as a sexual minority in the process of the development of the genre; however, even so, the genre of boys’ love became widespread, and the variations have made it deeper. One of the characteristics of the Magnificent 24 Group is that they did not limit human relationships to the typical one between men and women, but went beyond earth to space in science fiction works and reversed gender roles, having men as househusbands and child ­caregivers, for example. Traditional roles were examined from various angles and points of view. Artists in the group addressed social issues, and wrote for those who were struggling and those who were misfits in society, regardless of age and gender. The artists were not really feminists or activists; they had more of a personal perspective on issues rather than political. They were not involved in any social movements. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the difference between Japanese shojo manga and foreign comics that are targeted at girls (if such a genre exists)? YAMADA:  It might be presumptuous with my little experience reading girls’ comics outside of Japan, but at first it seems different in the number of works and the number of publishing outlets. As a result, it affects the variation of the contents. And I think that there is difference in the visual images (in how they are drawn and what they express) that follows the visual trends of the countries. Because I don’t know a lot about it, I can’t say much about the contents side. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think are the reasons shojo manga was born as a genre in Japan and has developed there to a degree beyond comparison with the rest of the world? YAMADA: At first it might have been that domestic manga were popular and well developed, unlike films and music, where imported ones were appreciated more than domestic ones. There were manga for every sex and age group, and there were manga for girls.

142  Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada Manga wasn’t a thing that was purchased by adults and given to children, but a product that children could purchase by themselves with their allowances. Girls also chose shojo manga by themselves depending on their tastes. Shojo manga developed along with girls’ feelings and desires. It may have been related to desires for postwar gender equality, as traditional Japanese customs tended to divide the cultures of the man and woman. INTERVIEWER: Do you feel that Japanese shojo manga influences or has influenced girls’ comics or girls’ culture in other parts of the world? (For example, the sense of beauty, fashion, and so on.) YAMADA: I think that the appreciation for “kawaii” (“cute” or “pretty”) over “kirei” (“beautiful”) in Japanese shojo manga has been a strong influence on girls’ comics and related culture outside of Japan. The ­Sanrio company (and anime in general) have been pursuing kawaii, but shojo manga had done so for a long time before them. Regarding the culture of boys, I believe that shonen manga is not free from the influence of shojo manga in Japan. So as a result, the cultural influence of shonen manga on the rest of the world may be the influence of shojo manga as well. INTERVIEWER: In what way do you think shojo manga will develop and change in Japan in the future? YAMADA: As it infiltrates all the other genres, the distinct genre of shojo manga might disappear. It may also continue, supported by its fan base. INTERVIEWER:  What do you hope will happen with Japanese shojo manga in the future? YAMADA:  It may sound ordinary, but I hope that interesting works will be produced more and more steadily. I don’t think that there are many problems that need to be fixed. INTERVIEWER: Do you have any other thoughts you would like to share about shojo manga? YAMADA:  I am glad that there is an opportunity to talk about girls’ comics with the larger world. I think that shojo manga touches a soft place in the heart of a person, and I believe it uplifts the spirit and gives one something to live for. I find solace in shojo manga when I feel lonely. I imagine there must be people who need the same thing everywhere, and I hope that they can find the same solace that I feel when reading these works. INTERVIEWER:  One last question. You are very active as a curator. Do you have any particularly memorable exhibition among those that you have curated? And do you have a personal favorite? Why? YAMADA:  Oh no (^^)!!, this is a very difficult question! I know that though the best has to be one, I have two (that I found memorable in general and two that I was directly involved with). One is the triumphant return exhibition of “Shojo Manga! Girl Power!” (2008) re-developed as a Japanese touring exhibition after touring the US, originally produced and curated by Masami Toku.

Profile and Interview with Tomoko Yamada  143 Then “Shojo Manga in Secondary Publications” (in Japan in1998, and in France at Angouleme City Hall in 2001 as “Invitation to Shojo Manga”). These two made me a little embarrassed because they reminded me of the immaturity of my love for shojo manga; but because of my love for manga, I now enjoy my present status as a manga critic. I also have two favorite shows that I was involved with, which are “Ballet Manga–Eternal Beauty” (2013), which I organized as the executive editorial supervisor, and the show “Showa Genroku Rakugo Shinju and the artist Haruko Kumoda” (2014). For the second one I both planned and supervised all curatorial works myself. It was small, but it was very fun. These two shows were the exhibitions where I grew most and I am most satisfied with among the many other shows that I have planned. (Interviewed by Masami Toku on August 31, 2014. Translated by Masami Toku & Jon Aull.)

14 Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe (b. 5/16/ 1929, Tokyo)

Figure 14.1  Kinpeibai (The Plum in the Golden Vase), 1995–present ©Masako Watanabe.

When Masako Watanabe was a student at Ueno Gakuen Junior College in Tokyo in 1949, she met and married ceramicist Rukuro Watanabe (who passed away in 2013). After her marriage, she started illustrating books. Upon seeing Osamu Tezuka’s cinematic manga, she was inspired to start

Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe  145 creating her own. In 1952, after the birth of her son, she went around with her baby to publishing companies. After many rejections, Iwaki Shobo (a subsidiary of Akahon Publications, publishers of thinner, less expensive single-story manga magazines), printed her first book, Shokoshi (Little Lord Fauntleroy). The book was a hit, and she became the most popular female mangaka of her time. During the 1960s, at a time when color pages in manga used bold colors, like green and red, Watanabe used more subtle pastels like pink, cream, and light blue, which looked fresh and attractive to girls. She often used twins as heroines in her stories, as in Glass no Shiro (Glass Castle), offering more possibilities for complex human dramas. In the 1960s, Japan was still a country recovering from the devastation of World War II, and readers found escape in Watanabe’s fantasy world. In response to the boom in horror manga in the mid-1960s, Watanabe published a serial manga called Aoi Kitsunebi (Blue Foxfire, 1967), based on a Japanese legend about a sacred fox with nine tails. This was widely regarded as the first important work in girls’ horror manga. She was also a pioneer in the mystery genre of shojo manga, publishing the critically acclaimed Glass Castle from 1969 to 1971. Rather than focusing on blood and gore, Watanabe probed the darkness in the psyches of ordinary people. For example, Santa Rosalindo (1973) depicts a beautiful and apparently innocent girl whose dark side surfaces in a series of gruesome crimes. After 1979, Watanabe started to create ladies’ comics, aimed at women in their 20s and 30s. She included graphic sex scenes, saying that sex was a part of the drama of everyday life. At the same time, she published many manga of her own interpretations of great literature, including the 19thcentury Chinese erotic novel Kinpeibai (1993–present). Although other mangaka tailor their work to readers’ demands, ­Watanabe has always followed her own path of discovery, and that search has kept her active as a prolific artist for over 60 years. Her manga, based on universal human themes, have weathered time well and continue to attract new readers. Not only the dedicated fans of her manga but also the shojo manga artists she has inspired admire her endless passion and energy in continuing to publish diverse stories that represent her aesthetics even after she turned 80. In answering questions about how and where the ideas for her stories came from, she gently smiled and responded, “There are so many titles that I am interested in creating and there is no limit (August 2005).” True to her statement, she has continued to create more masterpieces since that interview. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to become a mangaka? WATANABE:  Probably that I loved to draw since childhood. Perhaps

another inspiration or factor was that I was “hungry” for something, because it was soon after the war that I began drawing manga. In addition, reading Osamu Tezuka’s Jungle Taitei (Kimba the White Lion), I felt a kind of power that I’ve never experienced before. His storytelling was amazing, and I was deeply drawn into it as if I was watching a film.

146  Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe INTERVIEWER:  Were you reading manga before then? WATANABE:  I actually didn’t read much manga. Since early

childhood, I preferred to read novels for adults and anything literary. Even to this day, I am an indiscriminate reader (laughs). I used to like mystery and foreign novels. In other words, I like stories. At the beginning of my career, I used to draw, making illustrations for books and coloring books. In those days, I was a newlywed, and my husband had just graduated from an art university and worked as an art teacher. But we were both big spendthrifts (laughs). So I looked around to see what part-time work I could do, and that’s how I started working as an illustrator. The most immediate thing that I could do was to draw, so I made picture books. INTERVIEWER:  This is the first I heard of you making picture books. WATANABE:  Yes, that’s what I used to do. I made three or four books. I got quite good feedback too, and they were fun to draw. Besides picture books, I drew illustrations for coloring books and paper dolls. But I used to feel that wasn’t enough, and I was looking for something that suited me better. It was around that time that I read Osamu Tezuka’s manga, and it was as if I was struck by lightning. I felt, “I want to draw a manga like this myself!” although it was such an outrageous idea. I  learned everything on my own without a teacher to guide me. The work I drew, while being self-absorbed and searching blindly, was Shoukoushi (Little Lord Fauntleroy). I brought it to a publisher. However, that company went bankrupt just as they were about to publish my book. So, I think my maiden work no longer exists because I myself don’t recall ever seeing a finished book. My next work was Suama chan, released by the well-established publisher, Wakagi Shobo. Wakagi Shobo had a connection with Tetsudo Kosaikai (today’s train station kiosks), and Suama chan was also sold at kiosk stands. Around that time, the kashihon [rental books] boom was starting to take over from the akahon [literally, red-cover manga books] boom. Since Wakagi Shobo put a great deal of effort into the shojo manga genre in particular, many famous mangaka grew with that publisher. At the same time, I also made the rounds of other major publishers with finished manuscripts in hand. It was every mangaka’s dream to contribute manga to magazines, comparable to a performer making it to a Broadway stage. The story of me visiting publishers carrying my child on my back dates from that time. INTERVIEWER: But you actually carried your child in your arms, right? (laughs) WATANABE: That’s actually right (laughs). I thought that looked more elegant. I visited the publishers Kodansha, Shogakukan, and Shueisha, but they all turned me down. In those days, most story-based manga were published in the form of tankobon [a single story manga book as opposed to a periodical containing a variety of serial stories], and the manga sections of girls’ magazines were very small. This is because illustrated stories were more popular around that time.

Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe  147 Then someone told me about a place that accepted and published manga manuscripts as both akahon and tankobon. I was advised to bring my manuscripts there. That’s how I was referred to the publisher Wakagi Shobo. In those days, manga used to have weird titles (laughs), like “Suama chan.” [Suama is a kind of sweet rice cake.] Because everyone was hungry then, a title related to food was more popular (laughs). The story was about a devoted mother because stories with a mother theme were at the height of their popularity then. It was a thin book but was unexpectedly well received. That’s how I was offered a chance to draw a tankobon. My heart rushed with excitement. As I recall, it was a luxurious A5-size [5.8 x 8.3 inches] hardcover book of 230 pages, and four colors. Once I got used to drawing tankobon, I had a story that grew too big for one v­ olume, and they allowed me to create a longer story that continued over two volumes. INTERVIEWER:  And that’s how you became a star author for that publisher. WATANABE:  Well, that might be an exaggeration, but since there were only a few female mangaka and my work was well received, I continued to get jobs steadily, one after another. We were also raising a child and my husband helped a lot by looking after him and doing housework, like sometimes making a big pot of oden [a Japanese dish of ingredients simmered in soy-flavored broth]. INTERVIEWER: That sounds great. Your husband must be a very modern man. WATANABE:  He is. He used to say that women should not just stay home, but also have some kind of connection to society. On the other hand, my family was opposed and said, “It’s out of the question for women to work, especially when you have a child to take care of.” But I still liked to draw, and it was nice to earn an income. INTERVIEWER:  It must have been hard to raise a child while you were so busy with work. I heard you watched many movies and read many books, but how did you actually manage to go to movies? WATANABE:  I love movies so much that I couldn’t hold myself back. So, I got this terrible idea. As soon as my husband left for work, I would go to a movie theater, carrying our son on my back and wearing a nenneko [a warm, short kimono-style coat that one can wear while carrying a child on the back]. I’d enter the theater, put him down, and hold him in my arms. He was very good and would sleep through a movie while nursing. INTERVIEWER:  So, you nursed him in the movie theater? WATANABE:  Yes (laughs). It’s dark anyway. Two movies were included for the price of one ticket. So, it was usually early evening when I left the theater. It was perfect timing to do grocery shopping for dinner, while being excited as I remembered scenes from the movies. And my son turned out to be a big movie lover (chuckles).

148  Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe INTERVIEWER:  How

did you shift your field of work from manga books to manga magazines? WATANABE: At a certain point, the publishing companies that had earlier rejected me all came and tried to hire me, Shueisha, Kodansha, ­Kobunsha, all of them. There was even an episode where the editorial section of Shojo Book (Girls Book) monthly girls’ magazine sent me two different editors in a day, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. I also had occasion to draw two serials simultaneously in one magazine; Midori no Shinju (Green Pearls) and Yamabiko Shojo (Girl of Mountain Echo). Midori no Shinju (Green Pearls) was made into a radio serial drama. And that’s how Shueisha came to me with a request to sign an exclusive contract with them. However, since I did not like being restricted, we made a gentleman’s agreement that I would not contribute to other publishers. I was given many pages in Shojo Book. Each month, I drew about 8 fullcolor pages and 16 two-color pages for them. And after that, I was asked to draw a serial for their supplemental issues, which contained about 100 pages or more. And later, I also drew for Ribbon monthly girls’ magazine. Looking back, it was the busiest time in my career. INTERVIEWER:  You got married and made a debut as a mangaka. You surely were busy, I can imagine. WATANABE: Well, it was just a time when manga was flourishing and in demand. I gradually became overburdened. But since I didn’t know anything about using assistants, I invited my siblings one after the other to come and help (laughs). They all used to come over after attending classes at universities and so on, and I cooked meals for them (chuckles). We are seven siblings: two boys and five girls. So, I recruited one after the other. As for my younger sister, she got a job at Mitsukoshi Department Store. But I asked her to come to help me half a year later, and she became my exclusive assistant (laughs). But it was all right because she ended up marrying a man of good standing later (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  I hear that in those days, there were also many male mangaka who drew shojo manga. WATANABE:  That’s right. It seems they had a hard time though. For example, it was hard for them to draw skirts (laughs). And they certainly drew similar looking outfits all the time. As for female mangaka, we enjoy thinking about different clothing each time we draw. Especially because we were still living poorly in real life, we drew as ostentatiously as we could (laughs). We used to fantasize about drawing this outfit or that hairdo next time and so on. After all, we were drawing our own dreams. INTERVIEWER:  You have produced so much work. WATANABE:  It was fun. Ideas for stories sprang out one after the other. INTERVIEWER:  What kind of reference materials did you use in those days?

Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe  149 WATANABE: Ideas

for interior decorations and design came from foreign books. Those were our dreams in those days because we all lived in tattered houses. INTERVIEWER:  When did you first visit a foreign country yourself? WATANABE:  I think my trip to Europe was in the mid-1950s, when a dollar was still 400 yen. It took more than 30 hours to get there by taking a southern route. INTERVIEWER: Didn’t you go as part of the trip organized by Margaret ­magazine, with the readers? WATANABE: That’s right. I paid out of my own pocket. I joined their trip every year because I was happy to go abroad and also enjoyed traveling with the readers. INTERVIEWER:  What are the things that made you happy with your debut? WATANABE:  Well, I was happy that I received an award. But more than that, what I am happiest about is that I have been blessed with people. People around me really understood my work well. Even though I hear about other colleagues hitting walls and struggling, I never had problems, to the extent that it’s almost a miracle. Therefore, I feel I have been very blessed and I am grateful for that. INTERVIEWER:  So, you don’t remember suffering much? WATANABE:  No, I don’t remember. It’s really true! (laughs). Maybe I forgot!? Anyway, I sleep well, eat well, and enjoy working. And drinking too. INTERVIEWER:  This year marks your 55th anniversary as a mangaka. WATANABE:  Is that so? (laughs) INTERVIEWER:  How did you maintain your motivation to draw during this long period of creative work? Do you feel it was possible mostly because you had chosen the work you desired? WATANABE:  Yes, yes. I think that is the reason because I’ve never felt reluctant or burdened by my work. INTERVIEWER:  But have you ever felt physically, “I have to draw so many pages and it’s so hard!?” WATANABE: Well, I have. But I never stay up all night because when I do, I lose the ability to control myself. INTERVIEWER:  That might be the secret for continuing to work for such a long time. WATANABE:  Maybe so. My work schedule is always fixed: from 9 am till 5 pm. INTERVIEWER:  And you can still produce such a large amount of work? WATANABE: Yes. I work quickly. I am quick with ink work and naming [drawing and filling in word bubbles]. In the old days, all the mangaka used to confine themselves somewhere in order to draft more than 100 pages of a magazine supplement issue. But in my case, with just manuscript papers and a pencil, and without drafting, I would simply draw a story that was in my head in one big stretch, directly onto the manuscript paper! During my long career as a mangaka, I have only missed a week of work. It was when I was drawing a serial Aoi Kitsunebi

150  Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe (Blue Fox Fire) for Margaret magazine. I had a very high fever. Now that I think of it, that was the only time I missed work. INTERVIEWER:  So, that was an honest use of, “This issue’s story was cancelled due to the artist’s sudden illness.” WATANABE: I usually complete my work around the time of the deadline when a publisher picks an exact date. Otherwise I can’t call myself a real professional (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  Have you had a time when you were in trouble because you couldn’t think of a story? WATANABE:  I haven’t, because I am always thinking about stories. Although I don’t watch movies lately, I watch TV and read books. I actually read books a lot, searching for ideas I can use for stories (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  Have you read any interesting books recently? WATANABE:  Let’s see … Oh, maybe Jiro Asada’s Ayashi Urameshi Anakanashi. Ghost stories capture the essence of literature. The same might also be true for manga. INTERVIEWER:  You are great at drawing suspense and horror stories. WATANABE: With suspense, I can depict profound human psychology. The fun of drawing horror stories is in organizing scenes, thinking about how I can scare readers. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the unique power of shojo manga? WATANABE: I suppose it’s the power or energy of the drawing: fabulous drawing that makes you dream and makes your heart beat in excitement. That’s shojo manga’s unique appeal that is inimitable. And I feel Japanese uniqueness in shojo manga, a uniqueness you don’t find anywhere else in the world. INTERVIEWER: How do you feel about Japanese manga gradually finding acceptance abroad? WATANABE:  I am happy that people are reading Japanese manga because it also means that they are exposed to Japanese culture through manga. INTERVIEWER:  Have you ever received any feedback from overseas? WATANABE:  Overseas … I haven’t recently. But I did, a long time ago. It was a Japanese girl living in the United States. I imagine she felt sorry for the main character. The letter said something like, “If it was in the U.S., the president would have done something to help, if you asked him” (laughs). Children believe that characters in manga are alive in real life. On top of that, readers often assume that the mangaka is around their age. They write things like, “Dear Masako-chan [chan is a diminutive in Japanese]; I give you half of my allowance” (laughs). Often, money was enclosed with a fan letter, or a doll. Everyday, I used to receive cardboard boxes full of fan letters. INTERVIEWER:  Isn’t it a lot of work for you to read all those fan letters? WATANABE:  I felt happy though, thinking that my fans were waiting for my manga. But nowadays, I don’t get fan letters that often because my readers are older in age.

Profile and Interview with Masako Watanabe  151 INTERVIEWER: What

are the things that people should be careful about when displaying manga in museums? WATANABE: I think the most important thing is the way manuscripts are handled. Museums did not deal with manga until recently. That’s because manga had a very low social status. So, I think it’s great that manga’s value is recognized and there are more opportunities for manga exhibits. But the ideal situation would be that museums handle manuscripts carefully and then mangaka would feel happy to entrust their manuscripts. In addition, I think it’s also important that people see the process of manga making as well, instead of simply showing the completed illustrations and all that they get is, “Oh this is beautiful.” INTERVIEWER: When people look only at the final printed product, they might assume that manga is just mass-produced in a factory. But there is a lot more to it. There are mangaka and editors. A manga is created through live conversations between them. Colors are applied not mechanically but manually by a mangaka. Then the publishing company prints those manuscripts. I wish that more people would have the chance to understand this process. When I read your manga, I feel as if I’m being told, “Women are such wonderful beings.” WATANABE: Something like “A kindness with a core of inner strength.” I think that is important for women. Even when I depict evil women, they are not completely evil. They have human sadness or something of that sort deep inside. I’d like to continue to draw that type of woman. I would like women to be affectionate. My family was an ordinary family, but it was a warm family with nothing else but a lot of love. INTERVIEWER:  In fact, when I see you, I feel you have a lot of affection to give to others. WATANABE:  Really? (laughs) INTERVIEWER:  Also, I feel you’ve always had an appreciation for beautiful things. Have you always lived your life feeling the beauty of design and other things? WATANABE:  I am certainly attracted to beautiful things, and my taste has always been the same. My husband is a ceramic artist, and all the ceramic pieces here in our living room are my husband’s work. Living every day surrounded by my husband’s work gives me the most peace of mind. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on September 25, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

15 Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto (b. 1/25/1938, Fukuoka)

Figure 15.1  Aoi Hanabira (Blue Petals), 1958 ©Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto.

Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto  153 In 1954, at the age of 15, Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto made his professional manga debut with the graphic story Hachimitsu no Boken (Adventure of a Bee) in the monthly boys’ magazine Manga Shonen, and got first place in the long-story competition. From 1957 through 1962, he published around 40 different girls’ manga stories through the monthly girls’ magazine Shojo. Among those works are Akuma no Me to Tenshi no Me (Devil’s Eyes and Angel’s Eyes, 1957), Hoshi yo Kienaide (Stars Don’t Disappear, 1958), and Gin no Tani no Maria (Maria in Silver Valley, 1958). Matsumoto is an expert in suspense drama and fantasy stories, which were unusual subjects for shojo manga of that era. In 1961, he first published collaborative works with Miyako Maki (who later became his wife) under the name of M/M Pro (Productions). Their first collaboration, Gin no Kinoko (Silver ­Mushroom, 1961), used a dazzling new technique of combining photography with drawing and painting. Matsumoto is now famous for his hit boys’ manga and animation, like Uchusenkan Yamato (Space Battleship Yamato, 1974), Ginga Tetsudo 999 (Galaxy Express 999, 1977), and Uchu Kaizoku Captain Harlock (Captain Harlock, 1977), but few people realize that like many famous male mangaka in the late 1950s, he started as a shojo mangaka. At that time, shojo manga was in its development stage and was dominated by male artists. Matsumoto’s artworks, especially his female and animal figures, are well known for their beauty and attention to detail. Matsumoto got into the world of shojo manga at the beginning of his career because at that time young male mangaka had limited opportunities to work in the world of boys’ manga. Nevertheless, he learned a lot from his experiences in shojo manga, which he used to develop his skills in his future career in the world of boys’ manga. His experiences in shojo manga made it possible for him to depict female sensitivity and develop his philosophy in both boys’ and girls’ manga. Matsumoto is also well known as an original author of science fiction animation. His other masterpieces include Otoko Oidon (A Man Oidon, 1971), and the Senjo Manga Series ­(Battlefield Manga Series, 1974). In 2013, the film Captain Harlock was a special selection at the 70th Venice International Film Festival. This was a testament to his fame throughout Europe. Matsumoto’s intension is to show how to coexist with nature and other people regardless of cultural, political, religious, and ethnic differences. He was highly influenced by the philosophy of his father, who fought as an air force pilot in Japan during World War II. He calls himself a samurai (­samurai warrior) who holds a pen instead of a katana (sword). He is also a world traveler who loves to explore different cultures. INTERVIEWER:  Could

you tell me about how you drew shojo manga in its early days? MATSUMOTO: Tetsuya Chiba, Shotaro Ishinomori, Fujio Fujiko, Fujio ­Akatsuka, and I drew mostly shojo manga. The boys’ manga job market

154  Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto was dominated by major mangaka, and it didn’t allow new mangaka to enter. Shojo manga was more receptive to new mangaka. Shojo Club (Girls Club), Shojo (Girls), and Ribbon were some of the magazines. At that time, there were still no weekly magazines. Originally, I wanted to draw science fiction and stories about insects. However, shojo manga was also interesting to me in its own way—for example, the technique of putting cross-shaped sparkles in girls’ eyes. It was our generation of mangaka who did that. But the challenge in drawing shojo manga was that I wasn’t sure what to do. Since I was only 18 years old at the time, I didn’t know what a woman’s life was really like. In the end, I went toward drawing fantasies based on Greek mythology and stories about animals. In the meantime, many shojo manga magazines were discontinued, and many female mangaka appeared. As a result, male mangaka lost their place in shojo manga. However, just then, boys’ magazines finally started to accept us and we were able to survive. INTERVIEWER:  So, it wasn’t that you left shojo manga because you became busy with boys’ manga? MATSUMOTO:  No it wasn’t. Even though I wanted to draw shojo manga, I couldn’t. But since I knew nothing about women, it couldn’t be helped. As a result, I still want to draw shojo manga. I still have that desire. And well, by now, due to my work, I’ve had opportunities to hear all kinds of stories from a lot of women. And also through my own experience, I have started to understand a bit more about women. (Interviewer and Matsumoto laugh.) INTERVIEWER:  Your animal stories and insect stories are cute—for example, your regular character Mee-kun the cat. MATSUMOTO:  I drew various animal stories: a story about a little bear and a little girl and one about squirrels and so on. The Mee-kun you mentioned is from Torajima no Mee-me (Tiger-Striped Mee). A stray cat named Mee-kun wandered into our place in Ikebukuro. It was soon after I got married, and I was in my early 20s. He followed me home. So I asked him, “What’s your name? Is it Tora?” He didn’t respond and I asked again, “Are you Choko?” No response. So I asked again, “Chibi or Meow?” No response at all. Then I said, “Are you Mee-kun?” and he said “meow.” So I said, “Oh, you are Mee,” and he said “meeoow!” Since he said he was Mee, we called him Mee-kun. Now we live with the third-generation Mee-kun. INTERVIEWER:  I find that mangaka who started to draw boys’ manga after drawing shojo manga often draw cute women. MATSUMOTO:  Well, I drew many young girls as in Aoi Me no Mary (BlueEyed Mary), Aurora Hime Monogatari (Princess Aurora Story), Gin no Tani no Maria (Maria in Silver Valley), and Hi no Mori no Koshka (Koshka of the Forest of Fire). I also watched a lot of movies with female characters as the lead, such as Gone With The Wind, Marianne of My Youth, and Johnny Guitar, movies with strong-willed women.

Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto  155 I wanted to draw that kind of story. In other words, I wanted to draw women of rare beauty, and that became one of the factors that led me to draw shojo manga. Those women continued to show up as heroines even after I moved to the field of boys’ manga. Maetel, the heroine from Ginga Tetsudou 999 (Galaxy Express 999), also comes from that model. Boys’ mangaka of those days were not good at drawing women. The same was also true of animators. And that’s why when we made the animation of Uchuu Senkan Yamato (Space Battleship Yamato), I drew Stasha [a female character] myself both for the manuscripts and the animation images. But everyone got better at it gradually. By the time we made the animation Galaxy Express 999, they were able to draw Maetel and everything. INTERVIEWER:  You moved to Tokyo at the age of only 17 or 18? MATSUMOTO:  Yes, I was 18. Starting when I was 15, for three years during my high school years, I worked for the student newspaper of the local Mainichi Shinbun [newspaper] western regional headquarters. There, the chief editor took a look at my manga that had won the first prize for a new mangaka award of Manga Boys magazine. And he said he would publish one if I brought it to him. For three years, he paid me 350 yen a page. I was surely lucky to be in the northern Kyushu area. There was a perfect distribution system thanks to Mainichi Shinbun’s western regional headquarters. Moreover, since it was right after the war, American soldiers had left behind American comic books. There was a middle-aged woman who picked them up and sold them. We could buy Superman, Spiderman, Batman, Walt Disney’s Comics and Stories, stuff like that for 5 or 10 yen. After that, the Korean War started and the U.N. forces came. This time, soldiers from France and other countries brought many comic books and left them behind. It was the first period of the postwar baptism for Japanese manga, and we could read and compare manga from around the world that U.S. and U.N. forces brought. It felt like a rare event that happens once every thousand years. In addition, movies also came from all over the world. There were as many as 31 movie theaters in Tokyo, and they showed Japanese, American, French movies and even movies from the Soviet Union. I watched all of them. INTERVIEWER:  How did you come up with the money? MATSUMOTO: It was difficult to come up with money. I was more into going to movies or buying books than buying candies. So my teeth are strong even now (laughs). As far as I can remember, a movie ticket cost about 120 yen, and that included two movies. When I watched movies, I noticed that the colors came out differently in each movie: ­Technicolor, Eastman Color, colors of U.S. movies, Agfa color, etc. I could study those things too by watching movies. I could also study national differences in languages, expressions, and styles of arranging shots. On top of living in this kind of environment, the man next door worked

156  Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto for The Asahi Shimbun newspapers. So, I asked him to take me inside the company and I had a chance to observe how printing worked, the whole process, starting from photoengraving to printing. I was only in grade 3 or 4. And one of the employees in the photoengraving section said, “You’re drawing manga? Bring them and I can photoengrave them for you.” When I brought him my manga, he made the photoengraving. He showed me, “Look, this line doesn’t come out, you see?” and so on. He taught me how my drawing would turn out when printed. INTERVIEWER:  Were you happy drawing shojo manga? MATSUMOTO: Well, I learned how to draw many beautiful women. And if I combine that with fantasy stories, it is my dream come true. For example, I can set a story in Europe and depict the sinking of the Mu continent [Atlantis]. So, I never felt like drawing domestic shojo manga stories and I cannot either. INTERVIEWER:  Many of your early shojo manga are somewhat like mysteries and fantasies, and they stand out as fresh and eccentric when I look through the magazines of those days. MATSUMOTO:  In those days, people told me so often, “Your manga is incomprehensible.” And they had good reason too because I was drawing four- or five-dimensional worlds (laughs). INTERVIEWER: Have you had any disappointing experiences during your career? MATSUMOTO:  I once drew a story upon request. However, when I brought the finished manuscript to the publisher, the editor there said, “Please let go of this deal and chalk it up to bad luck,” and even repeated that phrase five or six times. He meant I should give up and go home. I was so angry inside. It was when I was 19 or 20. I told myself, “Someday I will make them regret it.” But in the end, I started to get job offers from the same publisher. INTERVIEWER:  How have you maintained motivation in your work? MATSUMOTO:  Since this is the path I chose for myself, I can’t really c ­ omplain about it, can I? I have a habit of saying, “If you are going to complain, you shouldn’t have made that choice to start with.” I also made H ­ erlock say this [a character from Matsumoto’s Nibelung no Yubiwa (Ring of the Nibelung)], “I’ll live with freedom under the flag of freedom.” ­However, no matter what happens, I will never hang myself. I  never think, even a little, about killing myself. And that’s why I have to grow hair in my heart [meaning, to be tough]. I need to grow lots of hair and have the guts to keep fighting till death rather than have a nervous breakdown. I won’t last otherwise. In reality, I’ve seen many mangaka who have had nervous breakdowns and one who committed suicide. Manga is a tough world. But you keep telling yourself, “What the heck. I will make something of myself some day.” Then, while you struggle this way and that, you eventually reach a self-awakening moment and you become aware of your inner convictions. In the moment when you

Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto  157 realize why you draw a certain work, you finally establish your identity. It’s a funny thing, but my self-awakening moment came with crotch rot [a fungal infection of the groin] (laughs). I got it in a communal apartment. My body was covered with crotch rot while I was drawing shojo manga. I felt I lived such a gloomy youth. And I was hesitant to tell people openly, “I have crotch rot.” Then I learned that the medical terminology is “tinea cruris.” Since I didn’t feel shy to say it that way, I went to a nearby pharmacy in Hongo 3-chome [an address in Tokyo] and said loudly, “Could you give me medicine for tinea cruris?” Then they said, “Oh, you have crotch rot too?” (laughs). Once you can say it, you can get healed. The medicine instantly took care of my crotch rot. It was in that moment that I thought, why not make this world a place where people agonized by crotch rot can openly talk about it? Then no one needs to agonize. I drew this story in Shonen Magazine (Boys Magazine), and I got exactly the kind of feedback I expected, such as, “My life has become brighter.” It was Otoko Oidon (A Man Oidon). In essence, the story was about young people living today’s life for a better tomorrow without giving up hopes and dreams. Even if people talk about them behind their backs, there’s no need to feel down, and it’s not embarrassing to cry either. INTERVIEWER:  “It’s not embarrassing to cry” was a very fresh idea. MATSUMOTO: I think everyone sheds tears of vexation at some point in life, especially during the adolescent years. Tears you shed in bed while enduring pain are different from tears of desperation. It’s because you are telling yourself, “I’ll make something of myself someday. Just watch me.” So, it’s not shameful to cry. INTERVIEWER:  In fact, you’re looking forward. MATSUMOTO:  I drew vigorously in those days as well, believing that I’d be stronger tomorrow than today. I also knew that the most important thing was physical strength. In the communal apartment where I lived, there was a guy who developed beriberi after his parents stopped sending him money. I bought a baguette for him and dropped by. He ate without a word. I encouraged him by saying I would be his bodyguard while we lived there because I was confident about my strength. We all got along well in that apartment, and we often told each other our big ambitions. One said he’d be a president of a major movie production company, own a building three times as big as the Empire State Building, and make manga movies. Others said they’d become a famous designer, a big novelist, or a director of a big hospital, and so on. And surprisingly, after 15 or 16 years, we all succeeded on those paths. In fact, one guy became a director of a hospital, another a novelist, and another a designer. When I pat their shoulders and congratulate them, they also pat me on the chest and congratulate me in return. It is such happiness for all of us, and we don’t have any hidden feelings about each other’s success.

158  Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto INTERVIEWER:  Could you tell us about any experiences with other mangaka? MATSUMOTO: As for Hideko Mizuno, I went to visit her while working

for The Mainichi Shinbun. There was talk about her as a woman of rare beauty in Shimonoseki. Our chief editor asked that my colleague ­Uchiyama and I go visit her to request that she contribute her work to the paper. I remember her running down from the second floor of a candy shop looking like a junior high student with bobbed hair. She had a bat as a pet. Can you believe it? (laughs) INTERVIEWER: And when did you meet Miyako Maki [a mangaka who became Matsumoto’s wife]? MATSUMOTO: In those days, it was quite usual for mangaka to meet one another if we had an opportunity, and I met her around the time I was drawing for the magazine Shojo. I lived in Tokyo but I ran out of money. So, I told Tezuka that I was going back to my hometown. Then he asked me to stay one more day because someone from Osaka was coming to deliver him a galley proof from the publisher Tokodo. This someone was Maki, and that’s how we met. I was 18. INTERVIEWER:  I heard that you have many siblings. MATUSMOTO: I have two older sisters, one older brother, myself, one younger sister, and two younger brothers. We were poor, but my older sister, who was working, bought me specialty magazines and so on. My  father asked me to give up on going to university because our family was beyond poor. I made myself look big and said to him, “I’ll give up, but on the condition that you send my younger brothers to ­university. Otherwise I’ll send them.” My brothers understood my wish, and one of them studied in Kyushu University’s mechanical engineering department and fulfilled the dream I couldn’t fulfill myself. He became a doctor of engineering. When I draw things related to mechanical engineering in my work, I ask him, “Is this correct?” He tells me, “It is not totally wrong” and so on. He also points out what to be careful about. Because of this, no experts can complain about my work (laughs). In exchange for this service, he once asked me to design a submarine hatch that could be manually opened and closed. I told him to ask experts, but he said he had done what he could with experts and a person in a  completely different field could come up with new ideas. Half a year or so later, he told me that he used my design. As with friends, it was nice to have many siblings. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the unique power of shojo manga? MATSUMOTO:  I think shojo manga has both spirituality and the power to appeal to its audience with beautiful drawings. It is clearly a different genre from manga for boys. INTERVIEWER:  How do you feel about the recent trend of more and more shojo manga being read abroad? MATSUMOTO: I think it means that young people share the same feelings everywhere in the world. Of course, shojo manga also will go abroad.

Profile and Interview with Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto  159 The reason why boys’ manga went abroad first is because many animations were based on boys’ manga. Every manga has an equal power to appeal to an audience. Shojo manga will circulate around the world, and its era is starting now! I want to send words of encouragement to all the shojo mangaka who are working today. I encourage them to express themselves and aim only to fulfill their purpose of drawing manga. It is important to do research for your story, and all of your experiences will pay off later. So for now, endure the pain and keep going in your world. Our audience is not only the 120 million Japanese, but also the 6.3 ­billion people of the whole world. Age and sex don’t matter if you want to work as a mangaka. That’s the way it is with freelance professions. It’s fun because you love your work. But there are also painful things because of that. Being a mangaka is like being an eternal master-less samurai, not with a sword but with a pen. It’s okay if the young generations surpass us. In this way, the manga industry flourishes as different groups of mangaka support different eras. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on October 19, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

16 Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno (b.10/29/1939, Yamaguchi)

Figure 16.1  Honey Honey no Sutekina Boken (Honey Honey’s Wonderful Adventure), 1968 ©Hideko Mizuno.

In 1955, Hideko Mizuno debuted with her first manga, Akakke Kouma Pony (Red Hair Pony), a single installment manga or yomikiri, through a monthly girls’ manga magazine, Shojo Club. In 1957, she published the serial manga Gin No Hanabira (Silver Petals), which was a big success and

Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno  161 established her career as a mangaka. In 1958, she published two collaborative manga in Shojo Club with Fujio Akatsuka and Shotoro I­shinomori, using the collaborative pen name U. Mia. In 1960, she published the sequential story Hoshi No Tategoto (Harp of the Stars, 1969), which is a love story based on Norse mythology. This story had a great influence on female mangaka. In 1966, she published Honey Honey no Sutekina Boken (Honey Honey’s Wonderful Adventure) through a monthly girls’ manga magazine. The story was later adapted for an animated TV series. She became enthralled with the world of rock and roll and was inspired by the singer Scott Walker to create the three-year serial manga Fire!, an homage to the rock generation, in 1969. This was the first shojo manga to have a male hero. It won the Shogakan Award in 1970. In March 1973, she became a single mother and reduced her output over the next few years as she raised her son. Beginning in the late 1970s, she diversified her style and published works in the genres of SciFi, mythological fantasy, historical fiction, and others, and targeted diverse audiences, including young adult males as well as females. From an early age Hideko Mizuno loved reading books and drawing and was impressed by the book Manga Daigaku by Osamu Tezuka which showed how to create manga. In third grade, she decided to be a mangaka. When she was 12, she entered a competition for young mangaka in which Osamu Tezuka was a judge. Although she did not win the competition, Tezuka showed her work to an editor and supported her. After graduating from high school, Tezuka invited her to live in the manga artists’ collective at Tokiwaso, becoming the only female mangaka to live there. Younger female mangaka often state that Mizuno was the most influential female mangaka because of the scale of her stories and her dynamism, which surpassed the typical shojo manga of those days. Her style of manga has attracted many types of audiences, regardless of gender and age. She has also encouraged young shojo mangaka to create their own worlds in their own ways, regardless of what is popular in the commercial world. Mizuno’s important works include the historical romance Shiroi Troika (White Troika, 1965) and the romantic comedies Sutekina Cola (Lovely Cola, 1963) and Konnichiwa Sensei (Hello Doc [teacher], 1964). As Mizuno produced one best seller after another, each of these different genres became part of the standard shojo manga repertoire. Other important later works by Mizuno include Ludwig II (1986) and Erzsébe (Elisabeth, 1993). In addition, Mizuno has authored many fine short story works, such as Cecilia (1964), Nire Yashiki (Elm Ville, 1964), and Take no Hana (Bamboo ­Flowers, 1967). Unfortunately, it is not easy to obtain these titles today. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you MIZUNO:  I read Osamu Tezuka’s

to become a mangaka? book, Manga Daigaku (Manga College), and I was shocked. In essence, it is an instructional book that teaches you how to draw manga, and it uses various examples of Tezuka’s

162  Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno work: four-frame manga strips, and short and medium-length stories. The stories in the book were fascinating. He was excellent in drawing all genres: western, science fiction, mystery, ordinary everyday life story, fairy tale, frame manga strips, everything. They were all interesting in such different ways, and I was hooked on his manga with just one look. As soon as I read it, I decided to become a mangaka. I was in grade 3. INTERVIEWER: You decided, “I’ll be a mangaka!” in grade 3 and truly became a mangaka? MIZUNO:  Yes, I did. I didn’t think I could become one, to tell the truth. But I made it (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  But I thought Manga Daigaku was not really a how-to-draw manga book by today’s standards. MIZUNO:  No. But there were no other books of that kind available at the time. And only after I read this book did I learn for the first time that you use a pen and black ink to draw manga. I couldn’t tell how to draw manga just by looking at the drawings. I remember now that I didn’t know what poster color was for a long time. Only after I moved to Tokyo I learned that it’s something you use to make corrections. Until then, I used to draw carefully so that I would never make mistakes. INTERVIEWER:  That’s quite impressive. MIZUNO:  I drew very carefully so that I would never ever overflow my lines. I manually drew every single shining star. That’s how I drew and contributed to the monthly magazine Manga Shonen (Manga Boys). It was the only magazine that called for new manga artists. Ishinomori, Akatsuka, Fujio Fujiko, and most people who wanted to draw manga contributed to it. Since the winners’ work was published in the magazine, I already knew Ishinomori and Fujiko’s work. My work won only an honorable mention, so only my name was published. Regarding my debut, well, one day completely out of the blue I received a letter of request from the monthly magazine Shojo Club (Girls Club). It was in March, the spring that I graduated from junior high. I didn’t continue on to high school because I was planning to find a job. Three years of studying in high school seemed like a waste of time for me because all I wanted was to keep drawing manga. Around the same time as I graduated and found a job, I received a letter of request from Akira Maruyama, [director in chief] of Girls Club, published by Kodansha. INTERVIEWER:  I heard that your editor, Mr. Maruyama, found your manuscripts in Tezuka’s house, in an upper storage space of his closet. MIZUNO:  That’s right. Tezuka asked him to look for his manuscripts there, and my manuscripts came out. Tezuka told Maruyama, “Oh that’s a contribution by a girl who lives in Shimonoseki.” Maruyama thought my manga was pretty cute and sent me a letter inviting me to draw something for them. It was in March 1955. I was so busy for about a year and a half after that. I worked full time and after I came home from work, I planned stories and drew.

Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno  163 INTERVIEWER: Does

that mean you were 16 or 17 when you decided to devote yourself solely to manga? MIZUNO:  I was 16. I made my debut in 1955, and I think it was in April 1956 that I came to Tokyo to introduce myself to Tezuka and the editorial section. That was my first visit to Tokyo. I’ve completely devoted myself to manga since I was 16. INTERVIEWER:  What was the story in your debut work? MIZUNO:  It was about a girl and a pony, a pure western. I told Maruyama in the beginning that it was going to be “a story about a pony and a little girl.” He thought it would be about something like a friendship between a cute ranch girl and a pony (laughs). But when he saw the finished manuscripts, he found that the heroine was a crazy tomboy (laughs). But he didn’t say no. He is very broad-minded. In those days, simply put, most shojo manga were tear-jerkers. Stories for girls were all about unfortunate and fragile heroines. I hated that kind of story. My older brother often took me to Tarzan or western movies when they came to theaters. I enjoyed watching them with him because they were so cool (laughs). I loved westerns because I loved animals and horses. INTERVIEWER:  Horses seem to be an important theme for you. MIZUNO:  One thing was that I loved westerns, and another was that we had many animals around us in our society in those days. Horse-drawn wagons were still carrying luggage around town, led by their drivers. INTERVIEWER:  What was the happiest moment in your career as a mangaka? MIZUNO:  The happiest moment was when my illustrations were published in a manga magazine for the first time (laughs): one illustration of a little boy and one of a little girl on the contents page, and also a one-frame [hito-koma] manga. I was so happy and excited to see what my illustrations looked like when they were printed. Another happy moment was when I was able to meet Tezuka for the first time. My editor in chief arranged a meeting for me when I visited Tokyo for about a week. I had seen Tezuka’s face probably twice in photos, although in those days mangakas’ photos were rarely published. Besides photos, I had also seen hand-drawn portraits of him. So, I was familiar with his face. But still, when I met him in person I thought, “Wow, here comes the real one!” (laughs) INTERVIEWER:  (laughs) What kind of conversations did you have with him? MIZUNO:  Well … I don’t remember. Or more precisely, I was lost in excitement, even though I am the type of person who has strong nerves. Tezuka was a very friendly person, and he came in with a big smile as if saying, “Hello, hello, hello.” INTERVIEWER:  Was he wearing a beret? MIZUNO:  Yes, he was, he was. It was a brown beret. He always wore that. (laughs) INTERVIEWER:  Have there been any big disappointments in your career as a mangaka?

164  Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno MIZUNO:  I

tend not to dwell on those kinds of emotions, such as being sad or disappointed. I usually let things go. However, I didn’t like it when my manuscripts were lost. In those days, there was no use for manuscripts once they were published, since there wasn’t a custom of compiling them and making a single-story book. The editor’s job was over once manuscripts were published. Things were chaotic during the weekly magazine era. Even though I understand editing is also hard work, editors didn’t seem to realize how precious manuscripts were. Although I asked many times that they return my manuscripts, they never came back. I was simply told, “We don’t know where they are,” and that was it. It’s unimaginable from today’s perspective. Sometimes they even applied colors to our manuscripts without our permission and used those images as cuts in advertisements for upcoming magazine issues and so on. When I saw the returned manuscripts, I found pages in which only a face and upper body were colored. INTERVIEWER:  That’s terrible! MIZUNO:  There were so many examples like that. And some illustrations were cut out of manuscripts and used as cuts. Even today, I still spend my time in recovering my manuscripts. Whenever my work is compiled into a single-story book, I look through manuscripts and find missing pages. My work was compiled for the first time into a single-story book in 1968, which was the year before I started to draw Fire! My first single-story book was Hoshi no Tategoto (Harp of the Stars). It was just a trial, and if the first one sold well we were going to make a second one. And it sold well. We probably sold 12,000 copies, which was a big hit in those days. But in those days, the cost of a paperback pocket edition book was about 200 or 240 yen. So we made only a few dozen yen for each book sold (laughs). But nonetheless, we sold more than 10,000 copies. After that, more and more single-story books were published. Three volumes of Harp of the Stars were published, and I think Hoshi no Fantasy (Fantasy of the Stars) followed. This became a turning point for major publishers to become serious about selling paperback pocket edition books. INTERVIEWER: Was Shiroi Troika (White Troika)’s single-story book made from magazine prints? MIZUNO:  It was actually made from manuscripts. But the manuscripts for a few issues were missing chunks. So, a professional traced magazine prints by hand. When I look at them carefully, I can tell they are not my drawings. But it was fortunate that the person who traced them was pretty good. As for other manuscripts, I often don’t remember what I drew in the past. But my fans occasionally drop by with my manuscripts. Then I remember and say, “Wow, I drew this too. Can I borrow it for a second?” and scan them. I still collect them. INTERVIEWER:  You mean, you collect your own work. MIZUNO:  Yes (laughs)

Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno  165 INTERVIEWER:  Why MIZUNO:  I wonder

do you continue to work as a mangaka? why (laughs). The only reason I can give is, because

I like it. INTERVIEWER:  Do you like writing stories or MIZUNO:  Well, I like both. It boils down to I

drawing more? get a lot of images in my head and I feel like making those images into drawings. Then I imagine what kinds of stories exist with those images, and things start to expand. In short, ideas come out one after the other and there’s no end. It is endless, probably forever (laughs). Whatever the reason may be, I just love manga as a medium. INTERVIEWER:  Could you please tell us about your experiences with other mangaka? MIZUNO:  Leiji Matsumoto is the first mangaka who came to visit me in Shimonoseki. He came with another person, Yasuji Uchiyama. Osamu Tezuka was the first mangaka I met, and Matsumoto and Uchiyama were the first mangaka I could talk with on equal terms. They used to draw for the Mainichi newspaper at that time. Matsumoto was 18 and Uchiyama was 20, perhaps. I was 16. Since everyone used to read and contribute to Manga Shonen (Manga Boys) monthly magazine, we all knew each other’s whereabouts. INTERVIEWER:  So there was a kind of camaraderie. MIZUNO:  That’s right. It was like, “Oh, there’s someone who’s drawing manga in such and such a place,” and we got excited. Those two came all the way to visit me on a hot summer day. Since they were already working as mangaka, they knew so many things and I learned a lot from them. Another mangaka I know is Ryoko Yamagishi. I first contacted her to request a showing of an English film, Hoffman Story, at a film library. She decided she would show the film if enough people attended. So, I invited people, and among the ten or so people who gathered to see the film was ­Yamagishi too. I get along well with her by talking about ballet. (chuckles) INTERVIEWER:  I heard that recently you are a big fan of Ruzimatov [Farukh Ruzimatov, a Russian ballet dancer]. MIZUNO:  Yes. Ballet is magical. It might be the same with any kind of dance, but once you’re hooked, you’re hooked for the rest of your life. I don’t know what the fascination is, but I cannot get away from it. INTERVIEWER:  What is the power of shojo manga? MIZUNO:  Let me think … In a few words, I think it’s the great complexity. In boys’ manga, things are straightforward. In a word, they’re simple. In contrast, in shojo manga, all kinds of elements are tangled together and create an extremely complex world. For that reason, illustration, stories, everything is delicate in shojo manga. It’s hard to say it in a single word. All kinds of things are tangled up, seriously, at a micromolecular level and creating a unique world. INTERVIEWER:  How do you feel about the recent trend of Japanese manga, especially shojo manga, finding acceptance overseas?

166  Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno MIZUNO: I

think it’s very good because it’s a chance for us to show that this kind of world exists. Finally we have come to such an era! Around the time when I drew Fire!, there were people who took my manga abroad to introduce it to people overseas. I was told they’d publish my work if I changed the page arrangement so the book reads from left to right, instead of right to left. So, it didn’t work out, although I hear that there were some manga that were published as mirror images. It’s only recently that Japanese manga began to be welcomed as they are. That’s a good thing. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the significance of exhibiting manga in museums? MIZUNO:  I never imagined that such an era would come for manga to be exhibited in museums. Manga’s status used to be the lowest of the low. If we brought it to school, it was confiscated right away. Plus we got a punishment (laughs). So I cannot believe such an era has come. I first encountered Tezuka’s manga in a time when manga were thought of as evil books. I didn’t understand why they were evil, and thought that adults didn’t understand anything about manga. But it was a time when I couldn’t say such a thing aloud. Even today, when I have a school reunion in my hometown, I cannot tell people that I draw manga. My childhood experience was traumatic for me. INTERVIEWER:  Since you were awakened to manga quite early on, it probably made it difficult for you to talk about manga with friends. MIZUNO:  I really had no one around me, including friends, with whom I could talk about manga. Because both parents and school told us not to read manga (laughs), I couldn’t talk about it and didn’t have anyone to talk about it with. Whenever I talked about it, people said things like, “You’re a weirdo” (laughs) or “You’re strange.” So I kept silent, kept drawing in my own world, and silently moved to Tokyo. It was then that I got companions for the first time. INTERVIEWER: You once lived in Tokiwaso? [a famous artists’ collective housed in an apartment building] MIZUNO:  Yes. Tokiwaso was unique. I worked with Shotaro Ishinomori and Fujio Akatsuka sitting at a desk side by side in the same room. ­Ishinomori had an unbelievable impact on the world of manga, especially in the area of story depiction and frame transitions. In those days, manga were only a few pages long. For that reason, mangaka had no choice but to develop stories by using small frames. Even if we wanted to develop a story gradually, there was no space for that. Therefore, our main characteristic, as the first mangaka generation, was fast development of the story, as if we were constantly in a rush. White Troika was done in only two volumes, although if done today, it would stretch over 20 or more volumes. The longest was Fire!, and it was in four volumes. I  studied and studied and squeezed my story down, leaving only the most necessary elements. Today, however, I envy that mangaka are given

Profile and Interview with Hideko Mizuno  167 so many pages to draw (laughs). In addition to following Tezuka’s style of expression, we really wanted to express our stories in the same way as in films since we also liked films. Therefore, in drawing one scene, we also really wanted to draw the scenes before and after. For example, to draw a love scene, we want to draw it in detail (laughs). So, one word wasn’t enough; instead, we wanted to use frames to express that. And it was our generation of mangaka who started doing that. INTERVIEWER: You depicted things like girls’ romanticism, sweetness, and beauty. And there are so many mangaka who began to draw manga because they dreamed about doing the same. Personally I think both the male and female characters that you draw are extremely attractive. The way you draw dresses is amazing too. You even capture the weight of the fabric. Female readers appreciate that kind of detail. What’s also great about your work is that you depict tough dramas that resemble those of boys’ manga. MIZUNO:  For one thing, I wanted to draw beautiful illustrations, but I also wanted to bring out drama more than anything else. I wanted to draw large-scale dramas as in films. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on September 27, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

17 Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki (b. 7/29/1935, Hyogo)

Figure 17.1  Akujyo Bible (Wicked Woman’s Bible), 1984–1995 ©Miyako Maki.

Miyako Maki was born on July 29, 1935, in Kobe, Hyogo Prefecture, into a family that owned a book distribution company. She grew up surrounded by books, and was attracted to manga and the possibilities for self-expression that they promised. In 1957, she debuted as a professional mangaka with a manga called Hahakoi Waltz, the story of a ballet dancer. In 1960, she

Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki  169 published Maki no Kuchibuye (Maki’s Whistle). In 1961, she married Leiji (Akira) Matsumoto, who later became one of the most influential mangaka and animators. After their marriage, they collaborated on girls’ manga, using a multimedia technique that mixed photography and painting. As her interests have matured and changed with age, she has also targeted the older audience of ladies’ manga, with artwork that is more personally relevant and interesting to her. Maki’s visual images of innocent and beautiful girls in her manga attracted many young readers, and these images were used to create an idealized doll, Licca-chan (through the Takara toy company in 1967: http://www. takaratoys.co.jp/licca_chan), comparable to the Barbie doll in the United States. ­Licca-chan is still popular among young girls in Japan. As early as the late 1960s, Maki started to publish manga for adult women. She was also one of the mangaka who most contributed to enriching and spreading women’s manga as a genre. In 1968, she published the serial manga Mashukobanka (Mashuko Lake Elegy) through the ladies’ magazine Josei Seven (Women Seven). Since then, she has published many manga in the “gekiga” (graphic novel) style in both male and female manga magazines. Maki was the first female mangaka to use the gekiga style and develop ladies’ comics to depict the realities of women her age in response to mature women’s expectations. Representative works for women include Himon no Onna (A Woman in Scarlet, 1972), Seiza no Onna ­(Constellation Woman, 1972), and Akujo Seisho (Wicked Woman’s Bible, 1984, original author: Etsuko Ikeda). She has also published works based on famous works of literature in Japan such as Genji Monogatari (The Tale of Genji, 1986). Some of her major manga have also been adapted into live action television drama series (Netsuai [Crazy Love] and Akujo Seisho [Wicked Woman’s Bible]) and films (Koibito Misaki [Lover’s Point]). Maki said in an interview, “Thanks to the great artists before me in the shojo manga world, I was encouraged to create my own world. Now, looking at the great young mangaka, I am again challenged and inspired to continue to create my manga world. My work continues to fascinate me, and I will never stop creating manga, regardless of my age, since there are many great themes that I am still interested in exploring” (August 11, 2005). INTERVIEWER:  What inspired MAKI:  I actually didn’t have

you to become a mangaka? the intention of becoming a mangaka at all, and I started to draw manga with the single-minded purpose of just wanting to draw. My parents’ home was a wholesale bookstore in Matsuya-machi (a.k.a Maccha-machi), which is a wholesale district in Osaka. When kashihon [rental manga books] were at their peak, my parents were short-handed and needed help. So, I left the bank where I enjoyed working and ended up helping out in the family business. Since I was the type of person who enjoyed reading anything written with words, I was shocked to encounter the piles of single-story manga

170  Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki books that arrived in the store every day. For the first time I learned that there was such a means of expression as manga. Although I was not good at composing, I loved to draw. So I thought, “This is amazing!” After that I checked out the structure of manga books including things like they come only in two sizes, A5 and B6 [5.3 x 8.3 inches and 4.9 x 6.9 inches]. I thought I might be able to draw a manga book by following those standards. Besides that, since I had read Tezuka’s singlestory manga books at least, I started to draw manga relying only on Tezuka’s Manga Daigaku (Manga College)’s “one-sentence advice for drawing manga” that appears in the margins. INTERVIEWER:  So you searched for your own way. MAKI:  Yes. I got paper from a wholesale paper store in the neighborhood. I bought a minimum order of 100 large sheets, and they cut them into eight sheets, making 800 sheets. INTERVIEWER:  You were ambitious. MAKI: Even though my brain was empty and not just the paper (laughs). After that I assembled things like ink, pen, and a ruling pen. And in the new year on January 4th, two months after I left my job, I declared to my family, “I am going to draw!” (laughs) and started to draw. I helped in the bookstore during the day and drew during the night. Since I started suddenly, I continually repeated the process of drawing something and then tearing it up. It took seven months to complete one book of 128 pages, with a colored front cover, back cover, and endpapers. INTERVIEWER:  That’s amazing. MAKI: I showed my manuscripts to Toshiro Maruyama, the president of Tokodo, a manga publisher in the neighborhood. Tokodo was a very high-quality and conscientious manga publisher that handled material that was advanced for those days, such as Tezuka’s science manga and Mitsuteru Yokoyama’s work. After simply glancing at my work, Maruyama said, “Wow, you drew this without knowing anything. I can’t publish this, but you have guts!” He told me he’d teach me many things and handed me study material to take home. And the bundle he handed me was Tezuka’s original manuscript for Akai Yuki (Red Snow). It was a work of beauty and a world of fine art. If I had seen it first, I would never have thought of drawing a manga (laughs). I really thought so at that time. Thanks to all the things Maruyama taught me, I changed the contents of my second story and I could finish it in four months. That was my debut work, Hahakoi Waltz (Mother’s Love Waltz). In the same year, I started to work for the publisher Kobunsha’s monthly magazine Shojo (Girls) and the publisher Kodansha’s monthly magazine Shojo Club (Girls Club). I felt sorry for the Tokodo publishing house, since I started to work for other publishers in Tokyo after drawing just the one book (Mother’s Love Waltz) for them. So, along with my work for magazines, I drew two more books Hahakoi Shinju and Hahakoi ­Yuuzuki [for Tokodo].

Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki  171 INTERVIEWER:  After that, wasn’t it hard MAKI:  No, it wasn’t. Since I had things I

work for you to keep drawing? wanted to draw one after the other, it wasn’t a problem for me. However, it’s been a constant battle to meet deadlines. I always want more time! But I think this is the same for everyone. INTERVIEWER:  From where do you think your drawing ideas originate? MAKI:  There’s no particular mangaka. Even today, I love seeing all kinds of paintings in general, regardless of genre, and I think that’s been a good learning resource for me. It was a sudden shift to go from painting big canvases as a student to drawing small frame manga with a pen. I especially struggled to draw figures in the style unique to manga. My drawing quickly filled up a page, and frames were stretched freely sideways, upward, or downward. I think that gradually became my style. INTERVIEWER:  Is there a particular reason that allowed you to continue to work as a mangaka for such a long time? MAKI:  I noticed this when someone pointed it out to me, but I am from Matsuya-machi, Osaka, where postwar manga is said to have originated. That is one big factor for having a very lucky start. But for the same reason, I felt for a long time that “I am an amateur who was just lucky.” Therefore, with every job request I received, I drew my work seriously and I continued in that spirit. So, it’s an accumulation of those things. With age, the things I wanted to draw changed too, and I changed my outlets to women’s magazines, young boys’ manga magazines, and magazines for the general public, although it was not as easy as it might sound (smiles ruefully). Readers also grow up. Boys switch from boys’ magazines to young men’s magazines. As for girls, however, there was no continuation beyond the world of shojo manga. On top of that, I personally felt that there shouldn’t be such a distinction between manga for females and manga for males once the audience reached an adult age. And I really wanted to get jobs that targeted an adult audience. However, young men’s magazines in those days were taken over by male mangaka and there was no place or chance for a female mangaka like me. INTERVIEWER:  So, how did it happen? MAKI:  I got a request from a young men’s manga magazine, Bessatsu Action (Separate Volume Action). The magazine organized a project where a group of mangaka, working as a team, re-drew original works by Masaki Tsuji, book by book. I was the only woman. I was very happy but also afraid. Even though I had already switched my field of work to junior magazines, I was nervous thinking that the readers of young men’s magazines might assume I was a shojo mangaka and not read my pages. INTERVIEWER:  I think you’re a very rare and precious woman. While there are many women who don’t wish to become adults, your effort to draw for an older audience is an affirmation of the transition to adulthood.

172  Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki MAKI: We’ve

entered a good era for mangaka, since the range of our work has extended into many genres both for drawing and publishing. In my case, I started my career at an older age, and in those days, shojo manga was often labeled as falling into a single category such as “tear-jerker” or “mother-theme.” My early childhood was in the postwar era; which [rather than the end of struggle] in reality was a time of chaos and devastation after defeat. It was a time when each Japanese person had his or her own sad life story. There were so many tragic stories that today’s youth would find hard to believe. So, even with shojo manga, it wasn’t just about a dreamy, unreal world. At the same time, I also observed Japan’s recovery from ashes and mirrored that in Maki no Kuchibue (Maki’s Whistle). I sent Maki’s [the heroine’s] sister and her husband to Germany and the United States to do collaborative research on new medications. I drew, hoping to give readers or share with readers a sense of a dream, longing, or hope for a brighter tomorrow and for a brighter future. Maybe I still had a dreaming girl inside me despite my age (laughs). Oh, you’re laughing! INTERVIEWER:  (laughs) By the way, what has been your happiest experience since you made your debut? MAKI:  That’s a tough one! Well, I’ll just give you three. The first was that the Licca-chan doll was born from my shojo manga characters. The second was when I received a Shogakukan Manga Award for my Genji ­Monogatari (Tale of Genji). Because my target was the epic Tale of Genji [the original classic work by Murasakishikibu], I always struggled, thinking about how to draw it. So, getting the award felt like I was being told, “You may continue to draw.” The third and last happened recently. The complete edition of Maki’s Whistle, a shojo manga I drew 45 years ago, was reprinted. Also, all three volumes of Seiza no Onna (Constellation Woman), a series from 33 years ago, were reprinted. I am grateful from the bottom of my heart to the publisher who took on this project even though these are old works. To have my work read by a new audience today is the happiest thing for me as a mangaka. Also around the same time, by coincidence, Maki’s Whistle was chosen as one of the representative works of the 1960s in an exhibit at the National Art Center, Tokyo, “The Power of Expression Japan,” which commemorated the tenth anniversary of the Agency for Cultural Affairs’ Media Arts Festival. I felt happy not because my work was chosen, but because it means shojo manga already had social status in the 1960s. INTERVIEWER:  Are there any disappointments you have had in your career? MAKI: The passing of Maruyama, the president of the publishing house Tokodo. He passed away right after my debut work Mother’s Love Waltz was published. As I mentioned earlier, he was the only person I could rely on.

Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki  173 INTERVIEWER: If

you’ve had interesting experiences with other mangaka, please share them with us. I’d also like to hear about you and Leiji ­Matsumoto [Maki’s husband], if you don’t mind. MAKI:  The mangaka who were later referred to as the Tokiwaso group or Taiyokan group were all friends. Since everyone, except for Tetsuya Chiba, lived in areas outside of Tokyo, there was a place where we somehow ended up gathering whenever we came to Tokyo on business. It was Tezuka’s home in Hatsudai, Shibuya. Tezuka took us out for movies or meals. At his house, we also had a yaminabe party [a hot pot party in a dark room where people can’t see what ingredients are thrown in]. Tezuka and I came to be in charge of the pot after drawing lots, but there wasn’t a big pot. To tell the truth, the pot we used was an aluminum basin that Tezuka used for washing laundry. It was a secret only Tezuka and I knew. It was fun. INTERVIEWER:  So, you were in the same group of good friends. But it’s a big jump from there to getting married. MAKI:  Maybe so. Since Matsumoto lived in Hongo 3-chome and I lived in Todai Seimon-mae [they lived only a few minutes away by train] in a boarding house where breakfast and dinner were included, we ate lunch together from time to time. We intentionally avoided discussing manga theory and such. Maybe that kind of easygoing atmosphere was good. INTERVIEWER: So, it felt natural to be together. By the way, there was a period when you and Matsumoto collaborated, for example, the time you worked as MM Pro. MAKI:  That was tough because we did that while both of us each also had our own work. Matsumoto drew the male characters, and I drew the female characters, although it’s not that we decided that way. Animals were Matsumoto’s job, since he draws very cute ones. Among our work is the story Gin no Kinoko (Silver Mushroom), which we made for a male magazine. Since Matsumoto’s original dream was making animations, we made that story using a multiple shooting technique, exactly the same technique as is used in animation films. We shot each frame one by one and put them together. As for the shooting platform, ­Matsumoto did everything from designing it, to buying materials and putting it together. We still have it stored away carefully. As for large manuscripts such as the one that was featured on the cover page of the free booklet of the publisher Kobunsha’s Shojo (Girls) magazine, we shot it at the publisher’s studio, using a structure that we built by ­stacking many glass boards up to the ceiling. INTERVIEWER: What do you think is the secret that allowed you and ­Matsumoto to continue to work in the same field? MAKI:  I think it was possible because we each had our own world. INTERVIEWER:  What is the unique power of shojo manga? MAKI: I cannot say it in a word because now we have a broad range of readers, and they show diversity. But if I think of it as shojo manga’s

174  Profile and Interview with Miyako Maki appeal rather than its power, I believe one important factor is how the sensitivity of the artist shines through his or her work. INTERVIEWER:  Do you have any thoughts to share with us about exhibiting manga in museums? MAKI:  If I take my manuscripts as an example, there might be a chance of color fading due to the lighting, since it’s a fragile kind of paper whose condition has deteriorated over the years. Although the truth is that I would like the audience to see the original manuscripts, and it would be ideal for an exhibit. INTERVIEWER:  How do you feel about Japanese manga being accepted overseas, especially in the United States during the last five years or so? MAKI: I feel very happy about that. Over the last 50 years, the word “manga” has become a common expression around the world. They are published in different languages in different countries and are available instantly for viewing on the Internet anywhere in the world. You can also view them on cell phones. Such changes were beyond our imagination when manga’s medium was limited to paper. The world of manga artists has also changed. Before my time, great trailblazers opened the road, and many mangaka of the following generations expanded and heightened the world of shojo manga, using the sensitivity and talent of youth. I am sincerely grateful and content with all their work, which has led to the opening of a door to the world, as in the exhibit, “Shojo Manga! Girl Power!” INTERVIEWER:  Today’s expansion of shojo manga was possible only because a group of mangaka like you continued to draw, always thinking of the readers. I personally hope that this exhibit will communicate that to the audience. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on September 28, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

18 Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka (b. 1/24/1948, Osaka)

Figure 18.1  Kojiki (Record of Ancient Matters), 2013 ©Machiko Satonaka.

When Machiko Satonaka was 16, her first sequential manga, Pia no Shozo (Pia’s Portrait), was published, for which she received the first-place S­ hinjin Manga Award in 1964. She made her name with serial love comedies such as Lara’s Heart in 1968 and Lady Ann in 1969. In these stories she

176  Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka made refreshingly simple drawings of cute girls who were madly in love. ­Satonaka’s representative works include Ashita Kagayaku (Tomorrow It Shines, 1972), Aries no Otometachi (Ladies of Aries, 1973), and Umi no Ora (Aura of the Ocean, 1978). Her manga consistently take “love” as a theme. She forthrightly depicts young girls’ love, adults’ love, love that defies death, happiness and agony for the sake of love, and the overall importance of the act of loving. Another important theme of Satonaka’s work is “growth.” From the start, she consistently protested against a stereotypical male view of women, which often demanded that they remain young and immature, and instead wholeheartedly affirmed women’s growth and maturity. That is how ­Satonaka came to contribute not only to the development of girls’ manga, but also to that of manga for adult women. This more mature idea of female love went beyond that depicted in shojo manga, and it seemed natural that she started creating manga for the woman’s weekly magazine Josei ­Shukanshi in the mid-1970s. Her important works for adult women include Akujo Shigan (Wicked Women Candidates, 1977) and Karyudo no Seiza (­Constellation of the Hunter, 1979). Tsurukame Waltz (Crane Turtle Waltz, 1997), a work that took aging as its theme, can also be seen as part of her efforts to depict human growth. Satonaka is also a master of historical plays and dramatic sagas about history. One could say that those works depict human growth and maturity from a broader perspective. Representative historical works include Asunaro Zaka (Asunaro Hill, 1977) and Tenjo no Niji (Celestial ­Rainbow, 1983–present), which is based on the Japanese Emperor Jito and has been an ongoing single-story book serial for more than 20 years. Satonaka shows impressive skill in organizing stories and structuring frames so that readers can easily follow the many characters and historical events. Many of her works have been adapted for live action TV series, films, and stage productions. Satonaka has always been fascinated by the possibilities of manga, and has devoted her life to it. With a lot of work and a little luck, she has remained successful in creating manga for the last 30 years. She strives in her work “to be able to write more naturally,” “to draw more skillfully,” and “to think more in depth.” She is grateful to her supporters and is inspired to continue to create. She loves manga and its possibilities as a great communicative tool. Through her prolific output and high-quality manga, she has contributed greatly to the development of shojo manga. In addition to being a professional mangaka, she has also served in many social, cultural, and educational organizations in Japan, including service in the Ministry of Education. She has been a professor at Osaka Art University since 2004. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to become a mangaka? SATONAKA:  I simply loved manga. Also, it was a time when

manga’s status was still very low, and I thought I could contribute to raising its status

Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka  177 by becoming a mangaka myself. Since I was just a child, I couldn’t think of any other way to support manga. Besides that, when I thought about mangaka as an occupation, I felt it would suit me because I liked making stories. When you think about creating a story on your own, manga is a very effective means to do so. If you want to create every aspect of a story by yourself, there’s no other way besides manga or novels. INTERVIEWER:  That’s an interesting point. SATONAKA:  The fascinating thing about manga is that it is shaped using all kinds of methods such as story, script, characters, and frame arrangements. And looking at each skill separately, let’s say for instance, you have only five out of ten writing skills, or three out of ten drawing skills compared to say, a painter. Even so, by combining all your skills, your work becomes convincing. It grows not by addition but by multiplication. INTERVIEWER:  Please tell us about some of your experiences since you became a mangaka. SATONAKA:  Once you become a professional, you hear many critical opinions about yourself. In my case, my debut was when I was a freshman in high school. Since I had won the first prize new mangaka award at the time, the editorial staff promoted me in an exaggerated way. Just because I was young, they described me as “a genius girl.” But I think of myself as simply diligent because if I were a genius, I would be able to draw without struggling so much (laughs). What hurt me was that I received all kinds of letters. They said, “You suck. You’re nothing like a genius.” It was a huge shock. When I got a letter that said, “You shouldn’t be so proud for just drawing something like this.” I wanted to reply, “I don’t think I’m so great.” But I didn’t have the means to say it. Another said, “Quit drawing.” It was so painful, and I started to develop a kind of anxiety that’s hard to describe. But all I could do was to keep encouraging myself by saying, “When you’re a professional, many things like this happen.” But of course, at the same time, I also got letters of encouragement. In addition, although I learned this only later, readers of my generation were inspired AND MOTIVATED:  “Oh, it’s okay to think of becoming a mangaka as an occupation.” INTERVIEWER: Please tell us about how you keep your motivation as a mangaka. SATONAKA:  I’d be thankful if I could maintain it easily, but it’s not so simple. In the end, the only way is to keep convincing myself about my purpose in drawing manga. Nothing is as easy as it looks. Then I think, even if it’s not easy, how lucky I am to be doing work that I like. Besides that, I try to set a standard that is a bit hard to achieve. Since people are lazy, if we’re told we should achieve 100, we achieve only about 70. But if I set my goal at 120 to 130, I might achieve 100 before I even know it (laughs). There are times I suffer wondering, “Why do I draw manga?” People can survive without having manga in this world, and there are

178  Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka more useful occupations than being a mangaka, such as saving people’s lives, contributing to education or world peace, and so on (laughs), although it may sound like I’m exaggerating. Drawing manga, however, doesn’t directly contribute to those things. But then I thought of this idea in order to inspire myself: in the past, humans used to live their lives not just by taking care of the bare necessities but also by establishing their identities. And behind that there is a story. A person learns about himself or herself by having that story. The pleasure of knowing oneself I think is the best nutrition for the heart. In continuing to draw manga going forward, I would be happy if I could be a source of power that allowed even one person to feel, “I’m glad I read it,” “I got the will to live,” or “I decided not to kill myself after reading it.” INTERVIEWER: Please tell us about your experiences with other mangaka whom you respect or to whom you’re close. SATONAKA:  The first one is Osamu Tezuka. I admire him for drawing stories in all genres. When I was in elementary school, I liked his Tetsuwan Atomu (Astro Boy) and Jungle Taitei (Kimba the White Lion). In Astro Boy, the antagonist robot’s perspective was also presented and there weren’t any absolutely evil characters. Although I was only a third or fourth grader at the time, I started to feel that you cannot judge people by their looks, and imagined that even a kid who did mean things had some circumstances behind their actions. However, we were banned from reading manga at school once I got to the upper grades in elementary school. It was for reasons like breaking robots is violent, and if children read such unscientific stories where robots get anxious or cry like humans, they might develop incorrect scientific knowledge. It was pretty ridiculous, don’t you think? (laughs) They even burned manga in front of us (laughs). I felt a strong revulsion and that I had to protect manga. But my parents got angry and said, “From now on, you have to get perfect scores on school exams. If you don’t, we’ll throw away one manga for each question you miss.” But I couldn’t get a perfect score on every exam. So, I put my manga books in order of importance (laughs) and chose the ones to sacrifice, crying. Today, my mom says, “Why didn’t you keep more manga? They are treasures” (laughs). Isn’t she selfish (laughs)? INTERVIEWER:  Are there any other mangaka that made a strong impression on you? SATONAKA:  Shotaro Ishinomori used to draw shojo manga as well, earlier in his career, and his work appeared very fresh to me. He organized frames in a smart way. I was sassy by the time I was in junior high, and it felt good to think to myself, “My classmates will never be able to understand Ishinomori’s work, but I do.” INTERVIEWER:  So, his work was modern? SATONAKA:  Yes. Ishinomori, Hideko Mizuno, and Fujio Akatsuka together drew under the pen name U•MIA [pronounced you my ah]. I could

Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka  179 always tell which part was drawn by Ishinomori. I still have the shojo manga that Leiji Matsumoto drew under the name Akira ­Matsumoto. That’s one book that survived my mother’s evil hands (laughs). ­Matsumoto drew many science fiction fantasies. Mizuno drew serious, so-called love stories, which was rare for shojo manga at the time. My heart used to beat fast when I read her manga. In her stories, there was always, in the truest sense, a manly male lead and a fully feminine heroine. I used to hand-copy her illustrations and send her fan letters. She wrote me back and I was so happy. So, I went to visit her first thing, as soon as my debut was decided by the publisher. She was in the middle of drawing Shiroi Troika (White Troika). She said it was already past deadline and I thought, “Oh, it’s all right to miss a deadline?”(laughs) As for Machiko Watanabe, her manga had many color pages, and she didn’t use colors that men would think feminine. Basically, she used beige and white. Elegant, isn’t it? I kept thinking I want to use those elegant colors when I get a chance to draw color pages in the future. But when I did, my editors complained saying, “Color pages are useless with such colors” and they painted the title in bright red or pink and so on (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  Please tell us also about your experience with Tetsuya Chiba. SATONAKA:  Oh, Tetsuya Chiba. In those days, most heroines in shojo manga magazines were of the irritating type. Whenever something happens, they cry (laughs). It’s just like the Cinderella story. For example, a girl lives humbly even while putting up with bullying; a good girl like her always gets a happy ending. Or a heroine gets separated from her mother and gets bullied by a rich girl; while living in poverty, she often prays to the stars and sobs, “I want to see my mother…!” But I want to tell those heroines, “Why don’t you do something if you have the time to cry?” (laughs) INTERVIEWER: (laughs) SATONAKA: They sob and sob. They don’t resist even when someone does something to them. They just endure pain, cry, and stay quiet. And those girls are always so pretty. Such ridiculous stories don’t exist in reality (laughs). Then Tetsuya Chiba made a debut and drew many stories for Shojo Club (Girls Club). His heroines didn’t always end up happy, and that was cool. In his work, heroines were lively and very ordinary girls. When he drew Mama no Violin (Mama’s Violin), although the heroine resembled a typical shojo manga heroine, it was very shocking that her mother died. In the meantime, his serial Yuka o Yobu Umi (Yuka’s Ocean) started. The heroine was strong like a boy. Even when she was mortified, she was the type who cried alone without letting anyone see. Since Chiba understood girls’ feelings so well, I thought he must be a woman even though he used a male pen name (laughs). At the same time I was also skeptical because I felt, for a female mangaka, the clothing of his female characters did not suit the season (laughs).

180  Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka But nonetheless, I thought he was a woman. Later on, a tiny photo of Chiba was published. It was a tiny, rough-looking photo, but I felt it could only be a man. I thought, “Well, that’s strange, but maybe he’s a ‘sister boy’ [transgender boys who dress in a feminine style] (laughs).” In those days, today’s Akihiro Miwa [actor and TV figure] was promoting himself as a “sister boy” under the name Akihiro Maruyama. But after I got a bit older, I saw in the news that “Tetsuya Chiba got married.” I thought “hmm, strange” (laughs). Since by that time, I was already precocious, I suspected his marriage was only for show to hide the fact that he was a sister boy. Then later, when I met him in person after my debut, he looked just like a man. But still, I was a bit skeptical (laughs). He had mentioned it was taking them a long time to make a baby, and I  thought he must be a sister boy (laughs). When he actually had a baby, I realized I had been wrong about so many things. I shared this story with Chiba, long after we started to hang out as families. I confided, “To be honest, I used to think of you this way,” and he laughed “Ha ha ha.” It’s really a funny story (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  What is the power of shojo manga? SATONAKA:  Women are capable of looking at details. I used to think being a man or woman didn’t make a difference. However, along with our physiological differences, some differences exist also in the ways we express ourselves. There’s a particular sensuality in boys’ manga and young men’s manga that are drawn by male mangaka who have experience drawing shojo manga. I think it’s because they’ve been exposed to shojo’s sensibility through the act of drawing shojo manga. They end up getting concerned about things that men typically don’t notice or see as useless. As for women, by nature we want to make use of everything. Women want to accomplish something once they’ve invested some effort on a project. Women are persistent, and that persistence gives women the power to be particular about things such as frame structure and page organization. Today, boys’ manga has become more and more like shojo manga. The straightforward and pure world of boys’ manga is very attractive too. But recently, men have started to expose their true nature by showing that boys are actually also complex (laughs). Boys have started to change, realizing that they don’t have to pretend any more that they are strong. And I think it’s a good thing if boys’ manga and shojo manga become closer to one another, and together, with multiplying effects, expand manga’s capacity for expression. SATONAKA:  One thing I have kept in mind in drawing manga is to not make a heroine simply someone who is devoted and cute and convenient for men. Also, instead of what characters do, I absolutely want to depict their thoughts and the processes that result in an action. A story progresses because characters choose their path forward with intention. In life, there are many paths to take and we constantly make all kinds of decisions at crossroads. For this reason, when I was young, my editors

Profile and Interview with Machiko Satonaka  181 often told me to cut down dialogue because it was too focused on logic (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  How do you feel about the recent trend of Japanese manga, especially shojo manga, being accepted overseas? SATONAKA: I think it’s only natural that it is accepted. The belief that ­Japanese manga would not be accepted overseas was a misguided belief of the past. It was not accepted because we didn’t introduce it overseas. Japan used to be so much in awe of the United States until about the 1970s. Since American concepts about comics are different from those of the Japanese, it didn’t work well when Japanese manga were brought there for promotion. What Americans said about ­Japanese manga at first in the 1970s was that there were too many pages, all black and white, and they were plain looking and unattractive. American comic books were thin and all colored. In addition, American comics are so clear about who is right and wrong, and justice always wins. Otherwise it’s just wrong. To the contrary, in ­Japanese manga, justice doesn’t always win, and the main characters die in the end after suffering and without being understood. For Americans, they are not real comics. However, just in the natural course of things, J­apanese manga began to be read in Asian countries, and that changed the Japanese perspective on Japanese manga. Japanese people, especially men of the older generation, gain respect for things as soon as they are accepted overseas. Products of high quality will always find acceptance, and all we have to do is to feel happy about it. The only problem though is that there are many young foreigners who come to Japan wanting to become shojo mangaka, and they all assume that they can be millionaires as soon as they become professional mangaka in Japan (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  What is the significance of exhibiting manga in museums? SATONAKA:  To be honest, I don’t feel there is much significance. As a person who draws, I feel there’s no significance in displaying only the illustrations. But it’s actually fun when I go to an exhibit as a visitor. There are many things I discover by looking at the full-size original manuscripts. Even though many recent exhibits display duplicated manuscripts due to copyright and security issues, many duplicates look pretty close to the originals and even the original artist cannot see the difference. It’s really fun to see original manuscripts on display as they are, without being cleaned up, with handwritten comments, traces of scotch tape. and so on. But it’s necessary to display the original manga book with the manuscripts because viewers like to know which manga those scenes belong to. A book could be displayed so viewers can take it in their hands and read, or it could be placed in a display case with the right pages open. I think this would make it more fun. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on September 27, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

19 Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo (b. 9/19/1949, Okayama)

Figure 19.1 Sutekina Otokono Tsukurikata (How to Make a Delicious Man), 1988 ©Yukari Ichijo.

In 1966, when Yukari Ichijo was a freshman in high school, she published her first single-installment manga “Amenoko Nonchan” (“Rainchild Non”). After the successes of Machiko Satonaka and Suzue Miuchi (two other high school-aged female mangaka) in 1967, Ichijo became inspired to pursue a

Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo  183 career as a mangaka. In 1968, she won second prize in the monthly girls’ magazine Ribbon’s new mangaka competition for her story “Yuki no ­Serenade” (“Snow Serenade”). Ichijo captured girls’ hearts by exposing the hidden inferiority complexes of characters in her love comedies. She showed not only the excitement and happiness of being in love, but also the pain and loneliness. One of her works that had a great impact on manga history is Kaze no Naka no Kureo (Cleo in the Wind) (1970–1971). In this story, she showed the hidden attractiveness and eroticism of a boy, Kage, and at the same time, depicted the bitterness that comes with life and love. She continued to be one of the top shojo mangaka, publishing exclusively in Ribbon as a part of the famous “Ribbon Group” and became a master of dramatic love stories. She collaborated with Chiki Oya to create the very popular serial Designer in 1974. This series emphasized fashion drawing, eroticism in boys, and active drama. In all her works, regardless of the genre, Ichijo insists on the “drawings” being the essence of shojo manga. Sunano Shiro (Sand C ­ astle), which is set in France, is a story about the life and love relationships of the heroine Natalie. Ichijo depicts Natalie’s tragic relationship with her first love, and the dilemma she faces after falling in love with her adopted child, the son of her first love. While revealing the misery that can result from living out an intoxicating love, this work also underlines the importance of loving someone. This story is almost too adult in its content and drawings to be serialized in a shojo manga magazine like Ribbon. However, Ichijo skillfully presents it in such a way that even elementary school children can read it for entertainment. Ichijo has also established her reputation with manga that feature a comedic touch and many action scenes. For example, one of her serial stories, Yuukan Kurabu (Leisure Club) (1981–present) has been ongoing for over 30 years. This is an action drama, whose protagonists are six members of a student committee of the Saint President High School. All six are wealthy and well connected and are depicted as very attractive and unique characters. The refreshing energy these characters exude is similar to what one might experience in a boys’ manga. However, the aesthetic that led to the creation of these characters is uniquely that of shojo manga. After 25 years of publishing her works in Ribbon, Ichijo moved to the monthly girls’ magazine Chorus in 1994 and continued to produce hit manga. Many of her works published after she changed her outlet to C ­ horus magazine show an understanding of the perspective of modern women, such as Tadashii Renai no Susume (How to Love) in 1995 and Pride (2003– 2010). In these works, she depicts a variety of women who struggle while moving forward in their attempts to live their lives with pride. Pride was adapted as a movie in 2009 (Shushuke Kaneko, producer and director) celebrating 40 years since Ichijo’s debut. Ichijo is confident that she has created a good manga when other people say that no one else could have conceived it. Love is her field of expertise,

184  Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo rather than something marginal in her work. To avoid boredom and keep a fresh perspective, she forgoes a long-term vision in her work and lives and creates in the moment. INTERVIEWER:  What

has been your happiest moment since you made your debut as a mangaka? ICHIJO:  When my manga was published as a book for the first time. It was “Amenoko Nonchan” (“Rainchild Non”), which was published as a rental manga book. There was no happier moment in my life, even though only a small number of copies were published and my manga made up only a third of the book; the book also included the work of other artists. I was a sophomore in high school. I was so excited that I would pick up the book while I was eating dinner and smile in pleasure. Then I’d put it down and go back to eating. When I went to bed, I’d put the book by my pillow, wake up and turn on the light in the middle of the night, and look at the book again and laugh “hee hee hee” (laughs). I really did that. INTERVIEWER: Was that the best experience even among your many other accomplishments? ICHIJO: By far, by far. That was my happiest experience above anything. Before that, I drew for a dojinshi [amateur manga magazine], ­Musashino Manga Kenkyukai (Musashino Manga Research Group), the same one Mitsuru Adachi and Satoshi Ikezawa drew for. But the difference was that my debut, “Rainchild Non,” was a professional work for pay. INTERVIEWER:  What has been the most disappointing experience since you made your debut? ICHIJO:  Just around the time that Moto Hagio and Yumiko Oshima started to gain some devoted fans, I was told I was “copying.” What I drew was NEVER a copy of their work, even though my stories certainly shared typical features with the old Cobalt novel series [Shueisha publisher’s novels for young girls]. It was a time when editors insisted on my drawing romantic comedies, even though I wanted to work on more serious stories. They didn’t want me to try serious story lines because I always ended up drawing self-destructive stories. Editors didn’t like that. ­(Ichijo and Interviewer burst into laughter) Anyway, up to that point, I had been often told that my work was “unique,” and no one ever said I was “copying.” So I was quite upset and said to my editors, “I’ll do as I please,” meaning I planned to draw stories that really expressed myself. I also told them I would not be available for meetings either. And what I drew after that was Designer. I felt so good when I drew it. For the first time in my life, dialogue kept pouring out of me like gushing water. I was like, “Wow, what should I do?” (laughs) I’d never had that kind of experience before. And not since either (laughs). That one was really fun

Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo  185 to draw. It was like, “Wow, I can write any dialogue I want? Yippie!” and “It’s all right to draw characters that aren’t sweet, but mean, and put them in awful situations? Yippie!” INTERVIEWER:  So, the disappointing experience became a turning point for you to express yourself and succeed. And how did you start drawing for the monthly girls’ magazine Ribbon? ICHIJO: After my debut with the rental manga book, I entered a contest of the publisher Kodansha and got fourth place. Friend monthly girls’ magazine appointed an editor to work with me. This editor suggested that I contribute manuscripts to other publishers as well, as a sort of apprenticeship. So I was going to send my work to Bessatsu Margaret (Special Edition Margaret) monthly magazine. But on my way to the post office, I happened to stop by a rental bookstore I always went to and saw Hideko Mizuno’s new serial Honey Honey no Sutekina Bouken (Honey Honey’s Wonderful Adventures) in Ribbon. When I turned to the next page, I saw a call to artists for the Ribbon manga awards, with a cash prize of 200,000 yen for first place [approximately 2,000 US dollars]. I  went to a stationery store, bought an envelope, re-packaged the manuscripts I was carrying, and sent them to Ribbon magazine. They gave me 100,000 yen. The other half went to Hikaru Yuzuki. There was no first prize winner, but there were two second prize winners. When I saw Yuzuki’s illustrations, I thought it must be by the same mangaka who won the first prize in Shonen (Boys) monthly magazine under the name of Tsukasa Nishimura. I checked it out and I was right. I knew it because a small part of his manuscript appeared in the magazine. I thought the choice of “Hikaru Yuzuki” as a pen name for Tsukasa Nishimura was embarrassing, sounding like the name of a Takarazuka Theater actress [a theater famous for female actresses who dress as men and act out male roles], although my name is probably also embarrassing (laughs). So I thought, “What a combination, Hikaru Yuzuki and Yukari Ichijo!” INTERVIEWER:  It feels sparkly. ICHIJO:  Very sparkly, even with a shade of purple (laughs). I chose Yukari Ichijo as my pen name because anyone can read it; it doesn’t have many strokes [elements of Japanese written language]; when written out, it’s visually attractive; it sounds beautiful; and it’s easy to remember. I was also conscious of its visual impact. However, I felt my personality was very far away from the name “Yukari,” which gives an impression of elegance and gentleness. So I wondered for a while about changing it to “Yuka.” In the end I decided on Yukari because it didn’t look good without “ri” no matter how many times I wrote it. Then later, a name specialist told me this is the most powerful name I could have chosen for my work. INTERVIEWER: It’s impressive that you were already doing self-promotion while in high school.

186  Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo ICHIJO: Well,

I think so, and other people often tell me that too. I think, “How can I produce Yukari Ichijo in the best way possible and promote her?” It’s because I chose to be a mangaka as my lifework. People might assume it was easy for me to become a mangaka because I became one at such an early age in high school. But I decided to become a mangaka when I was in elementary school. So I had a decade of struggle! (Ichijo and Interviewer burst into laughter) ICHIJO:  As for high school, I chose the nearby industrial high school with the single purpose of becoming a mangaka. Although I had good grades till then, I gave up on building a good academic background. I had promised a friend that I would attend the same high school as her, and she complained about my breaking the promise. So I said to her, “I’m sorry, but my future is important.” When I entered high school, I couldn’t help but feel that those around me were like children. They weren’t thinking about anything. I wanted to tell them to think about their future. For me, it’s appalling to hear of women in their thirties who are still searching for their path in life. INTERVIEWER: You chose your path in elementary school … You’re in a good position to chide those women. ICHIJO:  But it wasn’t at all that I was well mannered as a mangaka; instead I was quite attracted to the charms of the villain. I liked Alain Delon; he’s a little bit evil and a cool bad guy. Since I loved picaresque romances, I loved the kind of story in which bad guys do horrifyingly evil things and gradually collapse. That’s why I often drew stories about people who did bad and self-destructive things, and my editors used to tell me, “Please stop that” (laughs). In this way, for a long time, I thought I was playing the outsider. But somehow I came to be called a mainstream shojo mangaka. I still don’t like that. Because I’m always rebelling, I want people to call me a rebel. INTERVIEWER: You ARE a rebel. For example, you had a far more adult taste than the other mangaka in the girls’ magazine Ribbon, yet you remained a star mangaka there for a long time. On top of that, your stories were always popular. I think that’s why people call you mainstream. What inspired you to become a mangaka? ICHIJO:  I was the youngest in the family and the hours at my daycare were short, so I was the first one to come home each day. But since I didn’t like to stay home alone, I used to go outside and doodle on the street. People would gather around and compliment me, saying, “You are good. You are good.” In the graduation book of my elementary school, there was a section to write what we wanted to be in the future. I was the only one in the school who wrote “mangaka,” and people laughed at me. In those days, people didn’t think being a mangaka was a good occupation. So I  used to think, “I’m going to be poor. The world of having a cardboard box for a table and a bare light bulb is what’s waiting for me.”

Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo  187 INTERVIEWER: 

But today, to be a mangaka is a dream job, like being a soccer player or something. Did you read manga in those days? ICHIJO:  Yes, I did. Because I had many siblings, our parents used to buy us manga magazines like Nakayoshi (Good Friends), Shonen (Boys), and Shonen Book (Boys Book). In addition, I frequented a rental bookstore. Since I went there so often, the storekeeper told me I could read manga for free if I watched the storefront. So, I read a lot of manga there too. As a child, I was a huge fan of Hideko Mizuno’s work, such as Hoshi no Tategoto (Harp of the Stars) and Shiroi Troika (White Troika). I read White Troika much later when I was in high school, in Shuukan Margaret (Weekly Margaret) girls’ magazine. A big reason that I switched to contributing my work to Ribbon magazine was because Mizuno’s work was published there. More than anyone else, Mizuno’s material was very adult-like. I didn’t like the then popular story line about “a modest, poor, and beautiful girl,” where a ­heroine gets bullied in class because she’s poor, or bullied by a step-mom, and so on. Since my family was poor, I didn’t like manga’s unrealistic depiction of poverty either. But Mizuno’s world didn’t have anything to do with poverty. Her work was not limited to a small world but rather depicted the world on a global scale. I liked that largeness of scale. Anyway, I didn’t like being poor, and I wanted to be an aristocrat. But even though I  wanted to be the wife of an aristocrat, I thought it would be difficult to arrange because it was hard to even travel to Europe in those days. So, based on that desire, I often drew stories about aristocrats. INTERVIEWER:  But you still wanted to become a mangaka despite the high risk of remaining poor. ICHIJO: That’s right. In those days, being a mangaka meant being poor. But I  didn’t mind at all choosing poverty for the sake of doing what I wanted to do. I didn’t like being poor because of my parents. My family was poor, and there were five children older than me. I heard that my mother thought about having an abortion when she got pregnant with me. But I was saved thanks to my grandmother who said to my mother, “Five or six children, it’s the same. And this one might be the best child of all.” I didn’t feel sad or anything about this story because my family really was suffering. But at the same time, I felt strongly that I should be useful. So, whenever I see manga heroines who just cry and don’t grow up, I want to say, “If you have the time to cry, do some work instead!” (laughs). I have lived my life to this point absolutely avoiding the manga heroine’s tag phrase, “As for me …”* When I say “As for me …” it’s to boast about myself. *[The Japanese phrase “watashi nanka,” which is translated here as “as for me,” can be used in two very different ways, either in self-­deprecation, something like “as for little old me,” or else as a boast.] INTERVIEWER: “As for me” is an expression to use when boasting about yourself. I like that!

188  Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo ICHIJO:  As

for me, I have achieved second rank proficiency [i.e., the ­second highest ranking] with the abacus and second rank for bookkeeping (laughs). There are three categories for bookkeeping: industrial bookkeeping, bank bookkeeping, and commercial bookkeeping. I used to know how to record balance sheets, although I’ve forgotten it all now. INTERVIEWER:  Please tell us how you keep your motivation as a mangaka. ICHIJO: I tend to get bored easily. I get bored already after drawing the equivalent of about three books. When that happens, I make an effort to not to get bored, out of necessity. The reason I draw both serious stories and comedic stories is because I easily get bored. INTERVIEWER:  Do you have an absolute aesthetic of some sort that you live by? ICHIJO:  I wonder. … Oh, here it is. I tell people my motto is “From French restaurants to the cheap bars under the railroad overpass.” Wherever I am, I always want to blend in and enjoy myself. Under the railroad overpass, people have their own aesthetic. Whether I am drinking cheap alcohol with ordinary middle-aged men or I am in the world’s best restaurant, I always want to be completely comfortable and be myself as if there’s no better place for me to be. INTERVIEWER: During your long career as a mangaka, what have you learned from your experience? And is there a message you’d like to pass on to junior mangaka? ICHIJO: Well, what I can tell from my past experience is that a mangaka who talks behind an editor’s back is a second-, third-, fourth-, or even fifth-rate artist. I’m referring to those who complain about their editors and publishing companies. Although, of course, I’m not talking about the case where their complaints are based on obvious facts and common sense. I’m talking about those who blame their editors for what they lack. I want to tell those mangaka, “Don’t blame others for your work. Weren’t you the one who drew those manga? Can’t you take responsibility for your own work?” I always keep in mind that I’m the cause for both criticism and fame. After all, your work has your name on it. And there’s no editor, even the meanest editor, who doesn’t hope his or her mangaka will succeed. Every editor wants his or her mangaka to publish their work even if that deprives other mangaka of opportunities. Any editor is like that. If you cannot convince each of your editors, who should understand you best and who share in the benefits of your success, you can never convince your fans. So, it’s sad to become the kind of mangaka who criticizes editors or who is criticized by editors. INTERVIEWER:  That’s a good point … ICHIJO:  In addition, you’d better know the difference between how you think of yourself and who you are in other people’s eyes. Mangaka draw various characters, and they all come from themselves. That means if you know your personality earlier in your career, it makes it easier to draw. The only

Profile and Interview with Yukari Ichijo  189 way to find out what you are like in other people’s eyes is to have your best friend say it, or ask. You hear it and if you think, “That’s not the real me,” then you have to demonstrate who you really are. It’s only natural that people around you assume you are what you show them. INTERVIEWER:  That also relates to self-promotion. And if you know yourself well, you will probably learn to understand other people as well. ICHIJO: That’s exactly right. And if you can, you should also know your weaknesses. For example, know how you react when you get angry. When you do that, you become richer as a person. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on August 25, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

20 Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi (b. 2/20/1951, Osaka)

Figure 20.1  Amaterasu, 1986 – present ©Suzue Miuchi.

Miuchi debuted in 1967 at the age of 16 with her first manga, Yama no Tsuki to Kodanuki to (The Mountain Moon and the Little Raccoon), in the monthly girls’ magazine Margaret. She started regularly publishing many types of manga, including historical drama, suspense, and romantic comedy.

Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi  191 Miuchi started off as a traditional Japanese romantic comedy writer and exploded on the manga scene around 1970. In 1971, she made her name with a different type of excitement in the horror mystery 13 Gatsu no Higeki (Tragedy of the 13th Month). Her next works, the adventures Harukanaru Kaze to Hikari (Endless Wind and Light) and Amaransu no Joo (Prince of Amaransu) were widely renowned as well. In these stories, the girl protagonists fearlessly face mysterious situations and awful fates. These characters showed readers that “life is what you create with your own will.” In 1976, she started publishing the ongoing serial Glass no Kamen (Mask of Glass), the story of one girl’s rise to fame in the theater, which cemented Miuchi’s success. She received the Japan Mangaka Association Award for Mask of Glass in 1995. Originally published in the monthly girls’ manga magazine Hana to Yume (Flower and Dream), Mask of Glass was published in 49 volumes in October 2012. Mask of Glass is a saga depicting the devotion of Maya Kitajima to the performing arts as a professional stage actress, and her competition with her skilled rival, Ayumi Himekawa. This story has attracted diverse media since the 1980s and was adapted as a stage production (1988), a live TV drama (1997–1998), and an animated television series (1984, 2005–2006). One of the episodes in the story, based on the legendary play Kurenai Tennyo (The Crimson Goddess), is especially well known and was performed at the Nohgakudo (National Noh Theater) in 2006. Miuchi is the epitome of the girls’ manga storyteller. Yonezawa, a founder of the Tokyo Comic Market (1975–present) and manga researcher, stated that the Mask of Glass is one of the most exciting serial stories of shojo manga from the 1980s and represents all the power of the sequential graphic novel. Miuchi’s work is esteemed by many people in the worlds of theater and literature. It seems that Miuchi polished her talent for storytelling with the numerous short stories that she drew early in her career. Above all, she was a master in the horror genre as exemplified by Majo Media (Witch Media, 1975), and Shiroi Kageboshi (White Shadow, 1975). Modern fans would benefit from discovering the impressively skillful way that Miuchi suddenly envelops her readers with fear in the climactic scenes of these stories. Miuchi’s other representative works include: Jurietta no Arashi (Giulietta’s Storm, 1973), Amaterasu (1986), and Yokihiden (1981). She has covered various genres, such as romantic sagas, horror suspense stories, school stories, and love comedies. As a star mangaka of the monthly girls’ manga magazine Margaret, Miuchi courageously explored different genres, such as romantic comedy, adventure, fantasy, and horror. She is highly admired as a legitimate story mangaka and student of Osamu Tezuka. She is also an activist for the protection of nature through the Akaru project. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to become a mangaka? MIUCHI:  I like manga more than anything. Since my childhood, when

I lived near a rental bookstore, I rented manga and read them voraciously.

192  Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi One day, after unpaid bills had accumulated, they brought them to my mother. She got so angry that she forbade me to ever read manga again (laughs). So, I was sentenced to a manga prohibition and wondered how I could read manga again. I suddenly thought, “Oh. I can draw them myself and read that.” That was the beginning. I thought it would be fun because if I drew them myself, I could read what I liked (laughs). And my classmates also enjoyed reading them. I think that was when I was in fifth grade. As a summer project I drew a manga. When I brought it to school, I thought my teacher would scold me, but actually, he was curious and asked me, “Are you going to be a mangaka?” Then I thought, “Oh, I’ll become a mangaka. That’ll be the best thing to do” (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  What was your happiest moment since you became a mangaka? MIUCHI: The first one is when my debut was slated for publication. I felt that I could finally draw manga proudly. INTERVIEWER:  Until then, were you drawing in hiding? MIUCHI:  I was. It’s because manga were treated as evil books when I was a child. Kids who read manga were labeled as bad, dim-witted kids. It wasn’t a time like today where manga has civil rights. So I always drew and read manga in hiding, and I always felt as if I was doing something bad. I begged my mother to let me draw as much manga as I wanted, with a promise of giving up on becoming a mangaka and drawing manga if I could not debut by December 31st of my sophomore year in high school. My debut was slated for publication in the summer of my sophomore year. I was happy that I could finally draw manga proudly. Another happy moment was when I visited Taiwan for an autograph session. Someone from a Taiwanese publisher told me, “By reading the work of Japanese mangaka artists like you, Taiwanese people have started to like Japan.” That made me feel very happy. INTERVIEWER:  Wow, through manga. That’s wonderful. MIUCHI: Also, there was a person who often visited people who were ill in hospitals and brought as a gift the complete volumes of Glass no Kamen (The Glass Mask). Those patients sent me letters saying things like, “I stayed up all night reading your manga and I was encouraged” (laughs). I wondered though if a sick person should stay up all night (laughs). It’s great though if they get the will to live. When I hear those stories, I  feel happy and feel great about having continued to work as a mangaka. I haven’t had many sad experiences working as a mangaka, although there are occasions when I suffer because I cannot get good ideas. INTERVIEWER:  How do you overcome that difficulty? MIUCHI:  I cannot overcome it really (laughs). Deadlines come before I can come up with good ideas, and the work I draw out of necessity is published in a book. In such cases, I don’t even want to walk by bookstores on the release day. And when a serial is made into a book, I cannot help but want to re-draw it.

Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi  193 INTERVIEWER:  How do you keep your motivation to draw? MIUCHI: I wonder how … The Glass Mask serial has been

going on for more than 30 years since it started. So, I can’t really tell you how I kept my motivation in a single word … Maybe by being always energetic and not giving up. INTERVIEWER:  I see! What do you think is the unique power of shojo manga? MIUCHI: I don’t draw manga being conscious of “shojo” in particular. So, I don’t know how to answer that question to be honest. Of course, there are times when I draw while being conscious of young girls as my readers, for example, by making a backdrop look gorgeous and so on. But since they are basically story manga, I believe that as long as the story is interesting, manga becomes powerful whether readers are boys, girls, young men, or adults. INTERVIEWER: How do you feel about shojo manga finding its market overseas? MIUCHI:  I feel the time has come finally. Not just for shojo manga. I would like all Japanese manga to spread around the world and would like people to know that there is this way of expressing stories. In addition, it would really make me happy if people in various countries got interested in Japan and started to like Japan through manga. I am especially curious about how they would feel about things Japanese and ­Japanese customs such as obon [Buddhist festival of the dead] and our New Year celebration. In Asia today, people who are influenced by Japanese manga have begun to draw manga themselves, and there are more and more good mangaka. There will soon be mangaka all around the world, and I’m looking forward to it. INTERVIEWER:  Do you have any thoughts about manga exhibits? MIUCHI: It’d be great if many readers became interested in manga again. There are many things to discover, like how manga are drawn. But as for the people who are seeing these works for the first time, of course, it would be even more wonderful if they became interested in manga in general and read them. INTERVIEWER:  In many of your works, colors draw our attention. I feel it’s a special consideration unique to shojo manga, since other Japanese manga are basically black and white. MIUCHI: Actually, it’s not really a consideration that is special to shojo manga. I wasn’t very conscious of it. But when I think of it, there are certainly a lot of references to colors in my titles, for example:  Akai Megami (Red Goddess); Gin-iro no Duet (Silver Duet); Midori no ­Taiyou (Green Sun); Aoi Lilivia (Blue Lilivia); Kiiroi Kaizokusen ­(Yellow Pirate Ship) and Shiroi Kageboushi (White Shadow). There’s also Kuroneko no Tango (Black Cat Tango), which was based on a popular song of the time. Moeru Niji (Burning Rainbow) and Niji no Ikusa (Rainbow War) also suggest the seven colors of a rainbow … INTERVIEWER: And The Glass Mask finally became transparent.

194  Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi MIUCHI: Ha

ha ha. As for that one, I originally thought of calling it “The Rainbow Mask,” associating the seven colors with the way an actress plays various roles differently. But content-wise, it’s about an actress who acts with an invisible mask. So I thought the glass mask was a more suitable name:  it breaks in an instant when some kind of incident happens. INTERVIEWER: You also often use unusual combinations of words in your titles, for example, Fuyu no Himawari (Sunflower in Winter) or Niji no Ikusa (Rainbow War). MIUCHI: Yes. I often make a title combining things that are of completely different qualities. Colors in particular are easy to visualize. So, my intention is to attract people’s attention by purposely combining a color with something you would never associate it with. But I wonder if I use this method too often … INTERVIEWER:  I think your work became the impetus for Bessatsu Margaret (Separate Volume Margaret) to shift toward publishing serial manga, even though that magazine’s selling point had been self-contained stories. MIUCHI:  Now that you mention it, that’s true. I forgot all about it since it’s been a long time. To tell the truth, I was having a hard time because I wanted to draw a long story, but I had to draw a self-contained story every month. Then I once drew a long story that didn’t fit into the selfcontained magazine. So, I consulted with the editor-in-chief of the time Mr. Konagai, and he said, “Then let’s split the story into parts I and II.” After that, publishing two-part stories became a normal practice. Since a two-part story is a serial of two stories, readers wanted to read the next part and looked forward to the following issue. As a result, more and more issues of the magazine were published, and this approach became a regular thing. There were occasions when parts I and II were followed by parts III and IV. As for Harukanaru Kaze to Hikari (Endless Wind and Light), because I wanted to make it into an even longer story, I made a request to make it a monthly serial. As for two-part series, other mangaka started to do it more and more after that. INTERVIEWER:  I heard that Fusako Kuramochi used to be your assistant. MIUCHI:  I think she was still a student at the time, but she was a very hard worker. In addition, she drew powerful lines. She drew many things for me. Even back then, she was very receptive emotionally. Mangaka almost lose the ability to talk while drawing because they are following only the visual images in their head (laughs). We try to explain something verbally, but words don’t come out. So we make a poor explanation like, “Here, a wave, whoosh” (laughs). But Kuramochi was the type of person who accurately grasped what I was asking for, even from my limited explanation. She had good intuition. Also, her drawing was very steady, and I think she had the talent and skills from the beginning. Her younger sister Tomoko Kuramochi and Satoru Makimura also

Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi  195 came to assist me. There were also people who helped me as friends. For example, Yoko Tadatsu and Toshie Kihara, who were my professional friends, also came to help me because I was a slow worker. They would say, “Really? You haven’t finished it yet? All right, I’ll come and help” and so on. Moto Hagio helped me too. Especially during the first half of The Glass Mask, so many mangaka helped me. When I look back now, it was an amazing lineup of mangaka. I am truly grateful to everyone who helped me in those days. For sure, at least this I can brag about: I’ve been blessed with really great people around me, starting with my chief editor Konagai. INTERVIEWER:  Bessatsu Margaret (Separate Volume Margaret) magazine’s 13 gatsu no Higeki (Tragedy of the 13th Month) was a very early appearance of gothic horror in manga. MIUCHI:  I was probably 20 or 21 years old when I drew it, and I didn’t even know the phrase “gothic horror” then. But I had always been interested in mysterious things because I had often experienced them myself since I was a child, like things related to the Mu continent, Atlantis, pyramids in Egypt, Central America’s ancient Mayan civilization, and so on. So I got curious, and as I was reading books about many things for research, I came across the Rosicrucian secret society. So I had those ideas in my mental drawers as materials, thinking that I could use them someday in my manga. And I got a big response from the audience. INTERVIEWER: What pulled you toward suspense and horror stories and away from the romantic comedies of your earlier career? MIUCHI:  I actually didn’t draw that many romantic comedies. In fact, I liked horror stories more than romantic comedies from the beginning. When I was in junior high school, I drew my first mystery manga and people liked it. It was what you would call a gothic romance today. The title was Oniyashiki (Demon’s Mansion), and it was about a heroine who searches for her friend who goes missing while traveling and arrives at a mansion in a forest. The residents of the mansion are hiding some secrets, and the heroine gets entangled in those secrets. It’s a mystery with a suspenseful twist. Although it’s a common kind of story today, it was a hit with junior high kids of 40 years ago. Since then I have always believed that people like mysteries. I also used to like drawing adventure stories. Pirate ship stories or stories about searching for the mystery of a lost ancient civilization were my favorite kinds. Even though my stories had girls as the main characters, the content could have been that of boys’ manga. INTERVIEWER: Have you had any mysterious experiences that left a big impression on you? MIUCHI:  It’s too long a story and I cannot describe it in a few words. I’ve had many mysterious experiences since childhood. Recently, more and more people talk openly about those things, and it has become much easier for me to live. And now, from those personal experiences, I like

196  Profile and Interview with Suzue Miuchi to take only the things that I think are really important and express them through manga. They are well suited as themes for manga, things such as: the whole universe as one life; the relationship between the human soul and body; the role of dragon gods and extraterrestrial species; and humanity’s mission. My work Amaterasu [the goddess of the sun in Japanese Shintoism] is an attempt at that. I would like to draw a sequel to it soon and of course a sequel to The Glass Mask. Because I’m quite persistent, although it takes time, I never forget about what I once started. So, please wait patiently. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on November 12, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

21 Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya (2/13/1950, Tokushima)

Figure 21.1  Kaze to Ki no Uta (Poem of Wind and Trees), 1976–1984 ©Keiko Takemiya.

In 1967, Takemiya’s first manga, Ototo (Brother), was published through Com, an experimental manga magazine edited and published by Osamu Tezuka (possibly the most famous and innovative manga artist in Japan). In 1968, Takemiya’s “Ringo no Tsumi” (“Sin of the Apple”) won second prize in a competition for new mangaka sponsored by the weekly girls’ manga magazine Margaret. “Ringo no Tsumi” was subsequently published in Margaret’s New Year’s special issue, marking Takemiya’s debut as a professional mangaka. She is one of the important mangaka who led to innovations in the shojo manga genre in the 1970s.

198  Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya Around 1970 Takemiya leapt to fame in the magazine Shojo Comic with a series of stories with boy protagonists that also showcased her talent for creating long stories. Some examples are Sora Daisuki (I Love the Sky), which is about the mischievous and independent boy Tag Parisian; the skating tale Rondo Caprichioso, in which she described attractive, supple boys’ bodies; and a fantasy about an ancient battle between two princes, Farao no Haka (Tomb of the Pharaoh). Tomb of the Pharaoh in particular became a great success in 1974 and secured her reputation as a leading mangaka. In 1976, Takemiya wrote the first commercially published boys’ love story, the masterpiece Kaze to Ki no Uta (Poem of Wind and Trees), which caused a sensation for its depiction of the love/hatred and openly sexual relationships among three males in a French boys’ school. At that time, this type of manga was mainly published in dojinshi (amateur manga magazines), but after the publication of Kaze to Ki no Uta, shojo manga (which previously had no depictions of sexual love between men) changed. The success of this story prompted the development of the genre of boys’ love within the shojo manga world. The “boys” that Takemiya creates are neither real-life boys nor dream-princes for the girls in the story, but symbols of girls’ wishes to be independent and pure. The depiction of love relationships between boys or men became deeply rooted in the world of shojo manga from that point on and is now a thriving genre of its own. Takemiya’s work is not just a boys’ love story, but a masterpiece of human drama that expresses the idea that human love takes many forms. The popularity of the boys’ love genre would not have been possible if it were not for Takemiya’s high-quality work in Kaze to Ki no Uta and its commercial success. Takemiya published the science fiction story Tera e … (To Earth …) (1977–1980), the story of a struggle between humans and mutants, which won the Seiun Prize. In 1980, she received the Shogakan Manga Award for both Tera e … and Kaze to Ki no Uta. She has continued to publish diverse manga in the genres of science fiction, romantic comedy, and historical drama. Tera e … was adapted as an animated film in 1980 and became an animated TV series in 2007. Takemiya’s most recent major work is Tenma no Ketsuzoku (Bloodline of Pegasus), a fantasy about a Mongolian kingdom, published from 1992 to 2000. Takemiya deserves high praise for two other qualities. The first is her ability as a true storyteller. Her manga include many long stories such as Kaze to Ki no Uta (1976–1982), To Terra … (1977–1980), and Tenma no K ­ etsuzoku (Blood Relatives of Tenma) (1991). In all of these works Takemiya makes use of dramatic plot shifts throughout the story; readers experience real thrills, similar to those that come in reading a meaty, long story. The second quality is Takemiya’s excellence as a leader. The women’s magazine June is devoted to the theme of boys’ love, and its start was triggered by the influence of Takemiya’s manga. In June, Takemiya ran a serial “Oekaki Kyoshitsu” (“Manga School”), a drawing course for people who aspire to

Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya  199 become mangaka. This serial was not intended to solicit manuscripts as a way to discover new talent, but instead was a “classroom” that aimed to inspire the creation of highly accomplished manga. From the pool of Oekaki Kyoshitsu’s contributors and motivated regular readers, many new mangaka arose and began publishing in various other magazines. In 2000, ­Takemiya became the first mangaka to become a tenured professor in the manga program of Kyoto Seika University where she’s since used her talent for leading the younger generations. In 2008, she became the chair of the manga program and was promoted to president of the university in April 2014. She continues to contribute to the development of academic manga curricula not only in Japan but all over the world. In 2014, there were more than 100 foreign students studying in the manga department of the university. At almost the same time, Takemiya has started to develop the “Genga’” * (“original manga dash”) program by collaborating with the International Manga Research Center (Kyoto Manga Museum) at Kyoto Seika ­University since 2001. This was developed by Takemiya for the two purposes of ­preserving sensitive manga artworks and creating exhibitions by generating high-quality reproductions called “Genga’.” Many mangaka (both boy, shonen, and girl, shojo) have participated in her program and have gone on to contribute to the world of manga. *[Pronounced “genga dash.” These are high-quality copies of shojo manga, as close as possible to the original, used for exhibitions and archiving without any risk to the original.] INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to become a mangaka? TAKEMIYA: One thing that helped me to make up my mind

was Shotaro Ishinomori’s book, Ishinomori Shotaro no Mangaka Nyumon (­Shotaro Ishinomori’s Guide to Becoming a Manga Artist). I think I was in the ninth grade in junior high school. Up to that point, I drew manga secretly for my own pleasure, but then I contributed my work while I was in ninth grade. In fact, it was for Kodansha Publishing’s new mangaka award, the same magazine issue where Machiko Satonaka made her debut. INTERVIEWER:  Do you remember what you drew? TAKEMIYA: I think it was called “Mizudori” (“Water Bird”), and it was based in Japan. Since I liked Jacqueline Sassard’s straight hair, this story had a girl like that. I don’t remember anymore what kind of story it was. It wasn’t successful at all. INTERVIEWER:  You went to a university, majoring in education. TAKEMIYA:  My mother used to say, “You shouldn’t become a mangaka. It’s such a sleazy line of work.” I wrote about this in Beni Niou (Flagrant Rouge), but since my family had run a business in the service industry for generations, my mother was all the more concerned because she knew how hard it was. But I wanted to be a mangaka right away, if p ­ ossible. I was already drawing for a dojinshi [amateur manga magazine] and

200  Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya my mother knew about it too. However, being in the countryside of ­Shikoku, neither my mother nor I imagined I could become a professional mangaka. But I started to feel it might be possible while visiting Ishinomori during a school trip or getting together with dojinshi friends, and I considered contributing again when I was a junior in high school. About the same time too, my mother said, “You have to decide if you’re going to university or finding a job.” I thought I would have more time to draw manga if I went to university and I suddenly started to study for an entrance exam (laughs). After I came up with a strategy and thought about many things, I decided on the education department’s teacher ­credential program for junior high school art education. That way I could earn credit on the entrance exam for my drawing. INTERVIEWER: Publicly, would you say your debut work was “Ringo no Tsumi” (“Sin of the Apple”)? TAKEMIYA:  I usually mention both “Kagikko Shudan” (“Latchkey ­Children”), which was published in COM magazine, and “Sin of the Apple,” which was published in a special issue of Shuukan Margaret girls’ weekly magazine. INTERVIEWER:  You seem to have contributed a lot around that time. TAKEMIYA: That’s right. I contributed both works around the same time, and “Latchkey Children” won COM magazine’s new mangaka award of the month. At around the same time that I heard about the award result, I received a letter directly from Yoshiko Nishitani [a mangaka] asking, “Would you like to contribute to Shuukan Margaret girls’ weekly magazine?” She probably saw my work in an amateur manga ­magazine or something. Nishitani was a manga artist I liked very much, and I felt I had no choice other than to contribute if she made such an offer. So I forgot about studying for my entrance exam (laughs) and drew a new story right away and sent it. My work was picked by the editor K ­ uramochi and won an honorable mention in the competition. This was published in the magazine earlier than the other one. And for a long time after that, Kuramochi often kindly used my work in magazines such as Shosetsu Junior (Novels for Juniors), even though I was only a beginning mangaka. INTERVIEWER:  It seems that Isao Kuramochi has made a huge contribution to the world of shojo manga. TAKEMIYA:  Yes, that’s true. For one thing, publishing a manga in Novels for Juniors was in itself a new idea. And I often happen to be involved in such first attempts. For example, the publisher Tokuma Shoten’s book, Takemiya Keiko no Sekai (World of Keiko Takemiya), was the first such attempt in the shojo manga genre. There was also Flower Comic girls’ monthly magazine, sort of a prototype for Petit Flower magazine, and I was invited to join that too when the magazine was starting. Similarly I was invited to draw for June magazine when it started.

Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya  201 INTERVIEWER: You’re

the kind of person that people feel like inviting on occasions like that. TAKEMIYA: Junya Yamamoto [a renowned editor of shojo manga for the publisher Shogakukan] always calls me “a challenger” [meaning one who takes on challenges], and I always think, “Who put me in such a position?” (laughs). If Yamamoto hadn’t come all the way to Tokushima to visit me, I wouldn’t have come to Tokyo. Since I like the countryside, I thought I was not the type who could survive well in a busy place like Tokyo. INTERVIEWER:  What has been your happiest moment since you made your debut as a mangaka? TAKEMIYA:  A moment I felt happy, or rather, a moment I had a glimpse of the real manga world was when I attended the award party for Masako Watanabe’s Glass no Shiro (Glass Castle). I was a fan of Watanabe, and it was the first time I saw a big mangaka like her in person. She was so beautiful in a pale-pink pantaloon suit, the color of rose petals. I thought it was such a gorgeous world. Even Toshiko Ueda was there. Everyone looked gorgeous, and it was the opposite of the world I imagined where mangaka sat and drew at a table made from a used cardboard box. Somewhere in my mind, I used to feel manga had a low status. But I realized then that it’s not necessarily so, and, to the contrary, mangaka earn appropriate recognition if the work sells. INTERVIEWER:  What was your impression of Masako Watanabe? TAKEMIYA: She is one of the first mangaka I imitated. I could copy out some illustrations from her Yamabiko Shojo (Girl of Mountain Echoes) without looking. I really yearned for that world, with those beautiful dresses. She’s an artist who can draw elegant adult women. INTERVIEWER:  Have there been any disappointments or sad experiences in your career? TAKEMIYA: Well, maybe a disappointing thing was the time when I kept going around in circles without getting anywhere. I had the ideal image of what I wanted to be. But I couldn’t see the path to get there and I was frustrated. It was toward the end of 1972, before and after I drew the second part of Sora ga Suki! (I Like the Sky!). All I could see clearly was that I lacked so many skills and that I had tons of things to learn. It was a time when I didn’t like any stories I drew. INTERVIEWER:  It’s around the time you drew many short stories. TAKEMIYA:  I already knew then that I wanted to draw Kaze to Ki no Uta (The Poem of Wind and Trees). But I felt I lacked the ability to draw it. I felt I shouldn’t do it because I thought I would fail in my attempt if I tried it then. Since it was an important project, I didn’t want to do it then. But at the same time, I wanted to draw it. So, I kept drawing a sort of practice version for a long time. INTERVIEWER:  What was the first time you drew a work that made you feel “This is it!”?

202  Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya TAKEMIYA:  I

felt I conquered it with Mr. no Kotori (Mr.’s Little Bird)(1976). Since I didn’t learn how to write scripts in a formal way and I learned little by little by drawing one manga after the other, I envied Moto Hagio a lot for having the ability to construct complete stories from the beginning. I didn’t even know where and how I could study and acquire those skills. Even at this moment, I’m carrying a book about script writing in my bag. It’s to teach my students. INTERVIEWER:  That’s why you’re good at teaching others. It’s because you learned things by searching them out on your own. TAKEMIYA:  Well, it’s because I know how much I struggled (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  How did you overcome that long slump period? TAKEMIYA:  It is very tough to go through a slump. But I think it means you keep drawing in order to overcome it. “I might fail again this time, but I’ll try.” That’s all. I draw because I don’t think I can overcome it by ­taking a break and doing something else. But when I was so worn down that my weight was about to drop below 40 kilos, Norie Masuyama, a friend and one-time mentor who lived nearby, took me out. When we went out, I bought a fur coat, paying the large sum of 600,000 yen [about 6,000 US dollars]. When I showed a bit of interest in the fur and said, “Wow that’d be a nice thing to have,” Masuyama said, “Why don’t you buy it?” So, I bought it. After that, I finally felt better again. I was impressed with Masuyama for making me do it. INTERVIEWER: That’s amazing. It’s like, “Work again so you can make a ­living starting from tomorrow.” TAKEMIYA:  Exactly. In the same way, when I finished the second part of Sora ga Suki!, I traveled to Europe. I went because I knew that I was empty and I wanted to absorb something. Since I was going to come back fully recharged, I thought it’d be all right to use up my money. When I came back, I had only 500 yen (approximately 5 US dollars). I felt so good because I felt I had to earn money again (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  What kind of a trip was it? TAKEMIYA: I went to Europe with Moto Hagio, Norie Masuyama, and Ryoko Yamagishi. During the trip, I asked Yamagishi why she changed her drawing style during the serial Arabesque. Up to that point, her drawing was similar to that of Waki Yamato. Yamagishi said, “This is actually my real style.” She explained that this was her style from the beginning, but her editor stopped her from drawing in that style. However, she changed it because that is who she really is. So, at the start of her serial, she told her editor, “If the switch doesn’t go well, I will give it up. But I will definitely win a first prize.” When I heard that story, I understood the real necessity of bringing that much self-­ determination to your work. INTERVIEWER:  Did you gamble like that? TAKEMIYA:  I think the time I really gambled was when I drew The Poem of Wind and Tree. When I drew The Pharaoh’s Tomb, I had the

Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya  203 determination to keep drawing until I won a first-place prize, so that I could move on to The Poem of Wind and Tree. It was during The Pharaoh’s Tomb that I searched for ways to make a manga “popular.” I took extra care in drawing the scene where Nilekia and Snefel fall in love, even though I am terrible at drawing romantic scenes (laughs). But it was then that I realized that a good love scene attracts a lot of response from readers. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the uniqueness of shojo manga? TAKEMIYA:  The difference from boys’ manga is that shojo manga’s readers are young girls (laughs). I feel it’s very difficult to attract the attention of an audience of young girls. As long as we can show them what they like in specific ways, they come around easily. But even when we aim for what they might like, it is very difficult to hit exactly the right spot because it is a subtle balance point. However, once they become interested, we can count on them to continue reading our manga for a while. Therefore, with shojo manga, “being discovered” is more important than it is with boys’ manga. INTERVIEWER: What do you think about the recent trend of shojo manga finding acceptance overseas? TAKEMIYA:  A little while ago, I went to the United States for a signing session for Terra e … (To Terra …), and I had a chance to meet my fans. I feel manga fans overseas are very similar to Japanese shojo manga fans. It takes a lot of work to get their attention, but after they notice us, I feel they can be great supporters. I got the feeling that they will never leave us. I also met a woman with blue eyes who is a boys’ love manga editor for the publisher Tokyo Pop. The company is trying to establish Japanese-style manga overseas. She had a very clear idea about why she reads boys’ love manga. She said, “When I read a love story between a man and a woman, I have to empathize with the female character just because I’m a woman. But if they are both men, I can empathize with either of them. That’s why I read them.” I thought she had a very good point. INTERVIEWER:  Could you tell us about the significance of exhibiting manga in museums, and your ideas for making an enjoyable exhibit? TAKEMIYA: Since it’s a museum exhibit, I would like it if manga’s social and historical aspects were exhibited, such as, how a certain work was received in what kind of an era. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to start Genga’? TAKEMIYA:  At first, it was just for a personal reason. No matter how meticulously I work with colors, they come out completely different when published, for example, intermediate colors. It’s something I have to accept because I cannot ask publishers to adjust the whole publication to meet my standards. But I was not content for a long time. Then, after computers came out and I learned how to use them, I thought that colors might come out as I want, if I made adjustments. The idea came to

204  Profile and Interview with Keiko Takemiya me while I was scanning my old illustrations to make post cards. While I was doing it, the colors started to come out just right. After doing it for some time, I started to have fun and thought, “I will get my revenge for past disappointments” (laughs). INTERVIEWER: And how did that thought develop into making an archive of some sort? TAKEMIYA:  I thought, if I take pretty and exact-looking duplicates of manuscripts and shrink them, I could use them as decorations around my desk. And I displayed them in my solo exhibit. They sold out in a snap, and I felt everyone wanted them. After a while, I started to think that there must be many mangaka just like me who are dissatisfied with the results of printing. I really like the convincing power of color in original manuscripts. I of course have seen Ishinomori’s original manuscripts at his home, and I have seen other mangaka’s originals too. I also called Yamagishi once and asked if her colors came out right after printing. She was also pretty unhappy with the results. In fact, for a long time, we often said to each other, “They don’t come out right, as we know” (laughs). I thought if I made other mangaka’s close-to-original duplicates in this way too, there might be other kinds of opportunities. Besides discontent with printed results, I often hear about cases of missing or damaged original manuscripts. So I thought we should make an archive before those things happen. At the same time, printing with a printer also has the advantage of making the printed material resistant to sunlight and water. Original manga manuscripts are fragile because they are not made for display purposes. In that sense, duplicates might become something we can preserve better than the originals. INTERVIEWER:  So, “Genga’” is a printed exact duplicate of a manuscript as it is with all its flaws, traces of correction fluid, and pencil marks? TAKEMIYA:  By my definition, that’s what Genga’ should be. I think anything that looks just like the original manuscripts can be called dash, although there’s no official definition. A duplicate can be acknowledged as dash if it is made directly from an original manuscript. In addition, I think it can be called dash if the artist acknowledges it as dash in person and authenticates it. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on October 14, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

22 Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio (b. 5/12/1949, Fukuoka)

Figure 22.1  Toma no Shinzo (Thomas’ Heart), 1974 ©Moto Hagio, Shogakukan.

Moto Hagio began producing dojinshi (amateur comics) in high school. At the age of 17, she decided to become a professional mangaka. In 1969, she debuted as a professional with the single installment manga “Lulu to Mimi” (“Lulu and Mimi”) through the monthly manga magazine Nakayoshi, published by the major publishing company Kodansha. It was around the 1970s that people came to understand that shojo manga was not only a genre that targeted young girls or a particular sex and

206  Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio age group; instead, it was reevaluated as a medium fully capable of dealing with matters at the heart of human experience. Hagio greatly contributed to this new movement. In 1971, she published a famous story of boys’ love in a French dormitory: Juichigatsu no Gymnasium (Gymnasium in ­November). In 1972, she started publishing installments of Poe no Ichizoku (The Poe Clan) irregularly in the monthly magazine Shojo Comic. This story, her first big success, depicted the sadness and loneliness of an immortal vampire family. In 1974, she had another big hit with Toma no Shinzo (Thomas’s Heart), a boys’ love story set in a European boys’ dormitory. Her numerous science fiction manga, including her masterpiece, Juichinin Iru (There Are Eleven) (1975), renewed the popularity of shojo manga and also led to an expansion and deepening of that genre. In addition, as in Juichinin Iru, which introduces a character whose sex is not identified, Hagio’s manga provide many perspectives for the reconsideration of gender. Owing to these characteristics, Hagio’s work became an undeniable influence on the subsequent growth of shojo manga. Hagio has produced many important and provocative works, such as the legendary romance story Poe no Ichizoku (The Poe Clan, 1972) which features a vampire as a character, and others such as Toma no Shinzo (Thomas’s Heart, 1974), Star Red (1978), Gin no Sankaku (Silver Triangle) (1980), A-A’ (1981), X+Y (1984), Zankoku na Kami ga ­Shihai Suru (A Cruel God Rules) (1992–2001) and Barubara Ikai (Otherworld ­Barbara) (2002–2005). Marginal (1985–1987) described the tragic destiny of one planet with a bee-like society where one mother produces children who are evenly distributed to different regions in order to control populations. Hagio is possibly the most influential female manga artist, famous for her clever philosophical manga. Her longest running series, Zankoku na Kami ga Shihai Suru (A Cruel God Rules), ran from 1992 until 2001 and tells the story of how a boy overcomes early sexual abuse from his step-father. Hagio received the Tezuka Osamu Award in 1997. She has had a great impact on shojo manga through the introduction of new themes and the literary depth of her work. She is also one of the famous Magnificent 24 Group, a group of mangaka who were born around the year Showa 24 (1949) and includes Keiko Takemiya, Ryoko Yamagishi, and Yumiko Oshima. Hagio lived with Takemiya in Oizumi, which became a famous meeting place for young female manga artists, the female counterpart of Tokiwaso, the famous male mangaka collective. Nanohana, which was published right after the tragedy of March 11, 2011 (the earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear crisis in Fukushima), was a ­trigger for other manga artists to create visual novels that protested the use of nuclear energy and encouraged the nation to rethink the value of life and the future of the next generation. INTERVIEWER:  You

must have been asked this question many times, so forgive me for asking again, but what made you decide to be a mangaka?

Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio  207 HAGIO:  Japan

is a country that publishes lots of manga. Manga is my favorite world, so I have been reading both shojo (girls’) and shonen (boys’) manga since I was a child. So as a child I was drawing a lot, but I never thought about being a mangaka since it looked very difficult. But when I was 17 years old, I had a chance to read the manga Shinsen-gumi by Osamu Tezuka, and I was very impressed. I was thrown psychologically back and forth thinking about the main character’s destiny for a week or so. I was completely lost in the illusion, obsessed, and I felt very good, exhilarated. [Shinsen-gumi: shogunate police and military force located in Kyoto and dedicated to suppressing antishogunate ­activities (Edo period).] INTERVIEWER:  You mean that you didn’t grow tired at all of thinking about that one manga? HAGIO:  It was fun! That’s why I wanted to go into this world that touched my emotions, and I tried to be a mangaka. INTERVIEWER:  By that time, were you already drawing pictures? HAGIO:  I was drawing and also applying to manga contests [organized by shojo manga publishers]. In the dojinshi [amateur manga] circles, I was also taught by my friends what size of paper had to be used, and that drawing paper should be used on both sides. INTERVIEWER:  I understood that you decided to be a mangaka due to an encounter with the manga Shinsen-gumi. HAGIO: Yes, reading that made my mind up right then and there, and my goal was clear. INTERVIEWER: Then did you talk about it [your decision to become a ­mangaka] to your parents? HAGIO: [smiling and shaking her head strongly] No way! I never talked about it to my parents since they hated that I loved and was reading manga. For my parents, manga was so low class. Manga with all its ­pictures was only for little children who needed to learn how to read and write by looking at pictures. So they forced me to quit reading manga. They kept on telling me they were going to ban manga when I entered elementary school. They could not understand why I was so fascinated by manga. I was scolded all the time. INTERVIEWER: You have younger and older sisters and also a younger brother. Was it only you who was interested in reading manga, or did any of your sisters or brothers read it also? HAGIO: All of them had read manga, but they were not crazy about it like me. INTERVIEWER:  Then one day suddenly you heard a voice from heaven [that told you to be a mangaka], didn’t you? (Hagio nods and smiles.) You’ve just had your 40th anniversary since you became a (shojo) mangaka. What has been the motivation that has kept you creating manga for this long?

208  Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio HAGIO: 

I am also wondering what it is. It may be that I really like the world of storytelling. Creating stories is very fun, also drawing pictures and using my hands. INTERVIEWER:  You have had many successful manga, with many themes such as The Poe Clan [about vampires] and Thomas’s Heart [a boys’ love story] and also works of science fiction, influenced by the works of Ray Bradbury. Among all of your works, do you have a favorite theme and/or genre? HAGIO:  Well, I like science fiction very much. Science fiction depicts a world which is just a little removed from the real world, isn’t it? If this thing happens in the real world, the future will be like this, a world like ours with a little something added. I have felt for a long time that the surface of this world looks peaceful, but we actually don’t see the reality behind it. The real world might be too big [for us to see its totality]; we often feel that something is lacking and get on the wrong track. That’s why I think I like science fiction. INTERVIEWER:  It sounds like you are inspired and encouraged by not only the surface, but what’s going on underneath, although you don’t know exactly what it is. Am I right? HAGIO:  That’s right. So I think people who feel these things go into f­ antasy and mysterious worlds. For example, many people tend to be very attracted to vampires, ghosts, golems, Frankenstein, and Godzilla, none of which exists anywhere in this world. Why? There might be some e­ lement that completes our world that we are looking for, in addition to reality. INTERVIEWER:  It might be hidden things, a missing part or the shadow of our human society. HAGIO:  Godzilla was originally depicted in a film as a monster that was a result of an experimental nuclear explosion. INTERVIEWER:  That’s right! That’s right. You have created so many shojo manga. Recently, you’ve just published a story that has a strong message in response to the tragedy of the Fukushima nuclear crisis [caused by the earthquake and tsunami on March 11, 2011. Nanohana (Rape Blossoms) is the name of the story]. I am wondering if this manga is a new direction for you. HAGIO: Yes, it is. I used to create a candy-coated psychological world of fantasies, but I could not believe the beautiful fantasy anymore after the events of the earthquake and nuclear crisis of Fukushima. Since then I have been thinking about it and related stories. It was so painful since the fact of the events was gigantic. A long time ago, I created a story of asthma related to air pollution called “Katappo no Furugutsu” (“One Pair of Old Shoes”). I was painfully exhausted while I was drawing it since the problem was never solved. INTERVIEWER:  Even so, you created the story, which was because of something that made you do so. HAGIO:  Yes, you are right, but it was very painful. INTERVIEWER:  Have you created anything since Nanohana [the anthology about the Fukushima tragedy]?

Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio  209 HAGIO:  Nothing since that. INTERVIEWER:  Your direction

in shojo manga was to picture imaginary and psychological landscapes in your mind’s eye through science fiction, but you seem to have changed to a more realistic story that goes beyond the world of science fiction in order to express yourself. Weren’t you a little apprehensive about how other people might react to these stories about such a sensitive situation and topic [nuclear power]? HAGIO:  Yes, indeed, a little. There are so many sensitive issues in each country and culture that are off-limits, for example, subversive opinions on national policy and psychological abuse of people. Some people might have felt hurt by my discussion of the issue through manga, especially since it was just after the tragedy. Thinking about it made me hesitate, and indeed I was ready to stop working on the story if the publisher said so, but they said go for it. INTERVIEWER:  After the tragedy, other people wrote about the event. I am wondering if you were the first. HAGIO:  No, Kotobuki Shiriagari was the first. INTERVIEWER: Oh, it was him. It was good that many artists spoke out, especially after you published the anthology. I was also very moved by your extremely powerful visual images. HAGIO:  Yes, it is true that creative people, including mangaka, novelists, poets, and others, cannot ignore tragic events and disasters and must speak out. INTERVIEWER:  I agree, especially (I don’t know how you feel about this, but) a big star like you depicting such a story was powerful and influential. After you, some people were encouraged by you and spoke out. HAGIO:  I’m not sure about that. HAGIO AND INTERVIEWER: (Laughter) INTERVIEWER:  I moved to the US in 1989, which was almost 24 years ago [in 2013]. I had a chance to organize a number of touring exhibitions of shojo manga in North America starting in 2005, but to be honest with you, I had not had a chance to touch and read shojo manga for more than 20 years. Because of the exhibition, I had to read shojo manga again (as I used to read when I was a child in Japan) and picked your manga as well. It may be the impression of an amateur (since I had not read manga for a long time), but I thought your visual images had changed a lot. Was it because of some other artists’ influences, or did the change come from within yourself? Do you feel like you have changed? Is there a particular work that was a turning point for you? HAGIO:  It was the time around the publication of Mesh. INTERVIEWER:  Was there a particular reason? HAGIO:  Manga readers are children up to high school ages in general. In children, their figures are “toshin” and the head is bigger [the head is bigger proportional to the rest of the body]. That’s why I had always drawn my characters with toshin; but one day I started to feel awkward about it. I wanted to draw more balanced proportions for figures, and I consciously changed my characters.

210  Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio INTERVIEWER:  Oh,

I see. You purposely changed the proportions rather than unconsciously (in a gradual way in response to readers’ expectations). HAGIO:  I thought that readers over 20 didn’t really read manga with characters with big heads, but were more attracted to the realistic, balanced character proportions. INTERVIEWER:  Let me go back the previous topic. In Nanohara there are so many characters, for example, the gorgeous Lady Uranium that personifies nuclear power. Did you make her purposely a sparkling image? HAGIO:  [With a big smile] I was watching a video of Madonna, and I thought her provocative body style was so great, and also Lady GaGa’s. INTERVIEWER:  Well, it is understandable (laughs). I agree that Lady GaGa is amazing. I think she is great in her willingness to take action, although the style is very aggressive. Indeed, her reputation grew in Japan after the tragedy because she came to Japan very often after that. HAGIO: She came to Japan soon after the event, although many canceled their visits to Japan then. INTERVIEWER:  Are you surprised that the status of shojo manga has reached a level at the beginning of the 21st century that is so much higher compared to the time in which you debuted as a shojo mangaka? Now shojo manga is very popular all over the world. This is a 180-degree difference from before. What do you think about the change of the reception of shojo manga? Do readers really understand the value, or is it just fashionable? Where do you see this new popularity going? HAGIO: Well, there are so many discoveries such as coming of age stories and so on in films and artwork, but I think this is a recent discovery of the concept of “shojo” (girls). The concept of shojo now lives not only in Japan, but all over the world. The sensitivity that girls have is different from that of boys, but I believe that it exists in males also, making shojo manga works universally appealing. INTERVIEWER: I often feel (although this is my nonprofessional opinion) the reason gender specific manga did not work well overseas (unlike in Japan) is that the children’s world was not valued as much, especially in Western societies. Childhood was seen as just a process to go through in becoming a mature adult. Thus, children’s (youth) culture did not exist, but the world has recognized the value of the youth world through shojo manga and manga in general from Japan. HAGIO:  Also, the youth world has started to have economic power. It is interesting that the US changes its attitude when it realizes that something is worthwhile economically (Hagio laughs). US society has changed its attitude toward Japanese pop culture since the goods and products related to manga have sold very well. INTERVIEWER:  I agree. There are now manga with “battle beautiful girls.” Do you think that the reception of these works will continue to grow?

Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio  211 HAGIO:  As

in the comics of Superman, I think it will continue and expand to include girls doing battle. INTERVIEWER:  Do you have any wishes for the way that you would like to see shojo manga grow? HAGIO: Well, I don’t know what to say, but I want people to recognize a world they have not seen before. INTERVIEWER:  I see … we see the world through shojo manga? HAGIO:  Yes, I think so. INTERVIEWER: For example, Japan is the major country when thinking about shojo manga, but shojo manga artists are gradually increasing worldwide. HAGIO:  I believe there are many people who would like to read shojo manga in Asia, Europe, and other places. They don’t know it since they have never had exposure to it. If shojo manga is in front of them, they might think that this is what they really want to read. INTERVIEWER:  Do you think that this new style of shojo manga will fit with their cultures? HAGIO:  I believe so. I hope it will grow. Although men may laugh and underestimate the value of shojo manga, I believe that all female power is hidden and untold in shojo manga. INTERVIEWER: In addition, shojo manga has contributed to the development of manga’s composition. The effective role of shojo manga is enormous. You discussed the semiotic characteristics of shojo manga such as big eyes and long arms and legs, and also effective usage of koma [frame], which presents the psychological landscape, as Tatusme also mentioned. HAGIO:  I agree. Just like music also changes and develops, it is interesting that manga’s expression has also changed a lot, including changes in the usage of koma. INTERVIEWER:  Do you change and create words, pictures, and frames variably in different stories in the process of depicting shojo manga? HAGIO:  Yes, it is comprehensive. Depending on the usage of words, pictures and frames, it is the way I attract readers, also pull them apart, and even make them explode! (both laugh). INTERVIEWER:  What artists influenced you most? HAGIO:  When I was a child, the most influential mangaka for me psychologically was Osamu Tezuka. Then for pictures, it was Shotaro Ishinomori and many more in the world of shojo manga. INTERVIEWER:  Sounds like you were influenced more by male mangaka than female mangaka. HAGIO: Then Tetsuya Chiba too. He didn’t use too much unique framework, but it was amazing the details he put into each small frame, as if we could feel the characters’ breath from there. INTERVIEWER:  I agree, the works of Mr. Chiba are wonderful.

212  Profile and Interview with Moto Hagio Are you planning to continue to produce shojo manga in the future? HAGIO:  Yes, I will continue. INTERVIEWER:  I am glad to hear

that you will not retire, and I hope that you will continue to create forever on the front lines of shojo manga. HAGIO:  [With a smile and moving her fingers] As long as my fingers work, forever. INTERVIEWER:  Do you have any plans for a direction you would like to go with your manga? HAGIO: I am now working on a historical story. Then I am planning to create a story based on the original science fiction novel Aoi (Blue) by Sakyo Komatsu. If I have a chance, I’d like to create something related to Fukushima [the nuclear plant failure] again. INTERVIEWER:  Lastly do you have any message for your fans? HAGIO:  Please read my manga with kindness. (Both laugh.) INTERVIEWER:  I will do that. I am looking forward to enjoying your new works in the US and excited to see the ongoing evolution in your work. Please come to the US again. Thank you so much. (Interviewed by Masami Toku on August 14, 2013, at Tokyo-Haneda Airport. Translated by Masami Toku & Jon Aull.)

23 Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi (b. 5/14/1955, Tokyo)

Figure 23.1  Tennen Kokekko (A Gentle Breeze in the Village), 1994–2000 ©Fusako Kuramochi.

In high school, Fusako Kuramochi applied to manga schools, where ­mangaka and editors from publishing companies host competitions and give free correspondence courses aimed at discovering and developing new talent. ­Kuramochi  received awards regularly. In 1972, as a senior in high school, she received the gold medal (highest award) for amateur mangaka from the monthly manga magazine Margaret for her work Meganechan no ­Hitorigoto (Megane’s Monologue), which became her professional debut. After high school, she attended Musashino Art University, studying Japanese painting for

214  Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi five years, but left after deciding to devote herself to becoming a full-time professional mangaka. For Margaret, she created school love comedy/­dramas such as Shiroi Aidoru (White Idol, 1975), Ito no Kirameki (The Shining Thread, 1977), and the series Oshaberi Kaidan (The Talkative Staircase, 1978). In 1980, she published one of the most successful stories of the time, Itsumo Pokketo ni Chopin (Chopin Always in Pocket, 1980) about young musical students meeting, falling in love, and overcoming obstacles. Kuramochi was different from other writers in the 1970s who depicted unrealistic girl characters in science fiction, fantasy, and romance manga. She kept her characters realistic and described real schoolgirls’ feelings about love, relationships with friends, and the awakening of their self-­ consciousness. By having girls tell their stories in monologue form, she managed to capture “instant emotional movement” in the characters. In stories such as Oshaberi Kaidan (The Talkative Staircase, 1978), Kuramochi portrays girls with problems, struggles, and growth issues that are believable and close to those of the readers, who can easily identify and empathize with them, seeing themselves as characters in the stories. Her stories appeal to readers of all ages, prompting them to recall their school days, the experiences of adolescence, and first loves with nostalgia. Kuramochi’s stories are heart-rending, but they evoke tender emotions. Kuramochi has consistently drawn love stories, which might be a somewhat standard theme for today’s shojo manga. However, even when the synopsis is as ordinary as “a love story between old childhood friends,” once a story is in Kuramochi’s hands, she transforms it into something that feels as fresh, touching, and moving as our own experiences of being in love. It is the high quality of Kuramochi’s technique that keeps her work so fresh and evocative. Her technique includes, for example, the wit and sensitivity of her dialogues, her clever use of staging effects, and her skill in organizing frames and story arcs throughout an entire graphic novel. In addition, Kuramochi’s cool and attractive male leads now have an established reputation, such as those in Tokyo no Casanova (Casanova in Tokyo, 1983–1984). Since the 1990s, Kuramochi has changed her outlet to the manga magazine Chorus, where she published Tennen Kokekko (The Cock’s Crow in Nature or A Gentle Breeze in the Village, 1994–2000). Tennen Kokekko is set in a small village and is centered on the love relationship between a village girl, Soyo, and Osawa, a boy who transfers there from a school in Tokyo. In this manga, Kuramochi portrays the village residents with great care, affection, and insight. As a result, Tennen Kokekko relates a profound drama involving a large group of people. Six years after the serial ended, it was made into a movie. This underlines the way in which Tennen Kokekko is a work that has not lost its freshness over the years. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to become a mangaka? KURAMOCHI:  I entered my manga into a contest and won

an award. I was only a high school student and didn’t yet have any intention of becoming

Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi   215 a professional mangaka or anything (laughs). To begin with, I didn’t think it would be easy to become a mangaka, and I drew manga just because I liked doing it. With a friend of mine who also drew manga, I used to contribute to a magazine’s manga school. It was just fun to check the scores. In other words, it was just a kind of a game. We just contributed and checked the magazine together at a bookstore on the publication date (laughs). That was all we were thinking about. INTERVIEWER:  I can see that because you went to university after you made your debut. KURAMOCHI:  That’s right. I had my debut as a sophomore in high school. However, my parents thought continuing to draw manga was out of the question because manga didn’t have any social status in those days. So they insisted that I take an entrance exam even if I failed (laughs). After I took the exam and entered university, my life became more and more centered on manga. INTERVIEWER:  Did you have any favorite manga or a manga that influenced you? KURAMOCHI: It wasn’t because of their drawing, but I was influenced by the work of Keiko Takemiya, Yumiko Oshima, and Moto Hagio. But when I say this, people point out that their genres and ambiance are quite different from my work. However, it’s because they are completely different that I could accept their influences with an open mind. Inside, I feel as if I have chewed up their worlds and absorbed them. Their sensibility … their knowledge is amazing, but their sensibility is even more amazing. I was in that world right up to the time that I drew my winning contribution (laughs). My manga were all tragedies, and some were based in France. I used to draw the gloomiest stories that couldn’t get any gloomier, but my debut work was suddenly based on school life. The reason I ended up continuing in the same style as my debut work was because the readers’ reaction was positive. Since I rarely drew with school as a theme, it was very fresh. INTERVIEWER:  I thought you were going along with the girly trend that was happening around that time. KURAMOCHI:  But I actually felt I couldn’t join the girly trend; I used to envy other mangaka for being able to jump on the bandwagon. I thought I was left out. INTERVIEWER: When I read your Oshaberi Kaidan (The Talkative Stairs) and saw the scene with a big crowd of people, I thought, “Hmm, is this Shinji Nagashima?” I was surprised that you even read Shinji Nagashima’s work. KURAMOCHI: Really? Well, I have read through his work … But well, I can understand his work now of course, but I was really a child and couldn’t understand it then. It was when I was in high school and university. I couldn’t join the conversations among friends who liked rather sophisticated material such as literature and Garo magazine

216  Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi [a manga magazine that published non-mainstream materials and targeted a mature audience]. I followed along with the conversation, but I felt I didn’t really understand. But I was really crazy for manga (laughs). For those reasons, I felt alone on an island, even though I didn’t say it aloud. INTERVIEWER:  Did you feel a bit isolated or have a kind of complex? KURAMOCHI:  Yes, I had a lot of that. INTERVIEWER:  You’re so good at depicting complexes. KURAMOCHI:  It’s because I am full of complexes (laughs). INTERVIEWER: What was your happiest moment since you became a mangaka? KURAMOCHI: I was happy when I made my debut. I understood the true meaning of “walking on air.” And this is about my personal life, but in those days my parents didn’t think of manga as part of our culture, the way it is seen today, so, we had a kind of heavy feeling between us. But when I received an award from the publisher Kodansha, my father, for the first time in my life, put out his hand to me saying, “Way to go” and shook my hand. I was so happy to see that my parents finally approved of what I believed in and kept doing (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  Were there any sad or disappointing experiences during your career? KURAMOCHI: There are mangaka of my generation who debuted in the same year as me. There was a time when they were one or two steps ahead of me professionally. I felt quite down around that time. One day, I stopped by a bookstore after school and saw a magazine with many cuts of my friends’ work in the announcement of the next issue. I thought, their manga are published but not mine, even though we made our debut at about the same time (laughs). Although I usually never go to someone for help when I feel down, I remember going to see a close mangaka friend to whine. But that was perhaps the only time I did that. INTERVIEWER:  You never do it? KURAMOCHI: I don’t. I don’t believe talking to others will help solve my problems (laughs). Sometimes complaining to someone makes me feel good, but I can’t do it when I feel really, really down. Well, I think the only solution is time. And sleep, too (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  In your manga, I see scenes where heroines with a psychological complex let go of that complex several times during a story. I i­magine, that since you can depict that, it probably means that you have also lived your life that way, letting go of your complex at some point. KURAMOCHI:  With age, we naturally grow out of our complexes (laughs). It’s because our perspectives on things become more secure. There’s a point in life when we start to see that there are all kinds of opinions and ways of thinking about everything. And that’s finally a starting point. INTERVIEWER:  How do you maintain your motivation for work?

Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi   217 KURAMOCHI:  There’s

nothing you can do when you lose your motivation to draw. In my case, the source of motivation is men, after all. It’s a feeling, “I want to draw this kind of a guy.” It doesn’t mean I always have the same guy in mind. It depends on who feels fresh to me at that moment, or it could be someone who exists in real life or novels, or someone whom I imagine from a photo. INTERVIEWER:  So far, what kind of men have been an inspiration for you? KURAMOCHI: In the beginning, I liked Goro Noguchi [a singer and TV ­figure], and recently I liked Osawa Takao [an actor] very much. My tastes change with age, and that’s actually good because it changes the feel of each story. I have a friend who always draws the same type of man. She calls me up and says, “I’m wondering if there are any hot men around” (laughs). I say, “There’s such and such an event. Would you like to go?” Occasionally, I also go and look for a male model in that way. The event doesn’t directly motivate me to draw, but it is very good to be in a state of emotional excitement. It’s important to be able to get excited at any time. I think I should quit my work when I can no longer feel touched. INTERVIEWER:  Is there anything you’re careful about when drawing boys? I feel you often draw boys who are not necessarily convenient for girls and are kind of cool-headed. KURAMOCHI:  It’s a kind of technique I use in making a story, rather than it being my taste in men. I drop the tension in the story at one point and then bring it up again later. I’ve been influenced by a manga I read a long time ago. In that story, the boy character was the type who never got interested in girls no matter how hard they tried to win his heart. But at the very end of the story, he falls in love for the first time. That story knocked me out and influenced me. INTERVIEWER:  You like that situation. KURAMOCHI: I suppose so. I feel I continue to draw manga now because impressions of manga I’ve read have stayed with me as a core, and they come back to me from time to time. At the same time, it might also be because I have that kind of coolness myself. This is a story from my childhood, but it was the kind of time when all the family members sent father off to work every morning, waving at him and wishing him a good day as he walks away from home. But my father was the type of person who never looked back at us to say goodbye. He had his back to us and kept going without responding. I have a very similar personality to my father (laughs). If a similar thing flows in me, it’s my shyness or a tendency to push people away. I think those aspects of myself naturally come out in my manga. INTERVIEWER:  You change your style of drawing frequently. You are a ­ ctually famous for changing it with every manga. KURAMOCHI:  It’s because I’m not confident about my drawing. It’s not so much that I try to change it as that I manipulate my drawing here and there in an effort to improve it. Then I notice my drawing has changed. I’m never content with the present situation.

218  Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi INTERVIEWER: I

understand. Then, if you are not confident about your ­drawing, what part of your work are you best at and do you enjoy most? KURAMOCHI:  Story and dialogue, including frame arrangement. Once in a while, the whole manga comes out just as I have imagined. Whether I can like a certain work or not depends on the last frame. There are times when I can end a story exactly the way I imagined or I think of a phrase in the last minute that I never could have imagined when I first thought of the story. That’s the moment I enjoy. For example, in Hyakunen no Koi mo Samete Shimau (Cool Down the Passion of 100 Year’s Love), I had no idea what the last phrase of the last scene would be. But it suddenly came to me in the flow of things, and it was what I wanted to say all along. In that moment I thought, “I love this manga. I’ve done it well!” When I finished that story, I really felt happy that I had continued to draw manga. INTERVIEWER: I think of you as a genius of story construction. But from what you just told me, you don’t really calculate story construction? KURAMOCHI:  No, I don’t. It would be more appropriate to say I think of it. INTERVIEWER:  I heard that you have worked as an assistant to Suzue Miuchi. KURAMOCHI:  Yes. About the time I started to contribute to Bessatsu ­Margaret (Separate Volume Margaret) monthly girls’ magazine, my editor asked me to visit Miuchi. She was completely different from the mangaka I had seen up to that point. When I think of it now, she must have been quite young then, 23 or 24 years old, but she looked very mature. She had left Osaka and was working in Tokyo. It was the first time I saw an independent woman up close. And although she didn’t mention this herself, I saw by close observation that she put an extraordinary amount of energy into drawing male characters. She was drawing while deeply in love with the male character. Since Miuchi didn’t appear to be that type of woman, in that moment I thought every female mangaka might be the same. Then I thought, “It’s okay for me to be like this too” (laughs). I went to assist Miuchi for a few years until the early period of Glass no Kamen (The Glass Mask). I feel very lucky that the first mangaka I was introduced to was Miuchi. She taught me about a certain attitude toward work. However, to be honest, I didn’t think I learned anything while I was an assistant. Only after I started to do my own work did I finally realize what I had learned from Miuchi. For example, there was a time when Miuchi asked me to re-draw something over and over and I frowned. But without sympathy, she continued to say no. Then I thought to myself, “Why doesn’t she draw it herself?” … although this shows a negative side of my personality (laughs). When I look back now, my attitude was beyond the pale. When I came to use an assistant myself, I finally realized that I had gained great experience by working for Miuchi. So, a few years after that, I sincerely apologized. I said to her, “I think I was a quite a poor assistant. I am sorry.” But she laughed and said, “What nonsense, Fu-chan.”

Profile and Interview with Fusako Kuramochi   219 INTERVIEWER: How

do you feel about manga, especially shojo manga, becoming widely accepted overseas during the last few years? KURAMOCHI:  I feel very happy about it because it means shojo manga is gradually finding its place. In addition, what I notice when I go to manga related events is the number of attendees from overseas has increased during the last five years or so. I think that’s amazing! INTERVIEWER: What do you think is the unique power that has been ­cherished in shojo manga over the years? KURAMOCHI:  I think, ultimately, it’s the girlish heart. I’ve been losing the girlish side of me as I age, but whenever I draw shojo manga, I can shamelessly become a girl again at least in my heart. I feel I can keep drawing shojo manga as long as I have that. I think that’s what’s important in shojo manga. But I wonder if “girlish heart” is the right expression. Let me think … I definitely have something that I cherish about shojo manga. I’ve always had it and I like it too, but I just don’t know how to describe it. Well … I think it’s the sensibility. I think we shouldn’t let our senses become dull. “Fresh senses,” although it might sound too simple, that’s the closest description I can give using my words. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the significance of exhibiting manga in museums? KURAMOCHI:  I didn’t have the experience of having my work exhibited in museums for a long time. I experienced it for the first time in the last few years. I felt happy about showing my manuscripts, when someone who saw my work told me, “I thought you drew lines very quickly, but the manuscripts were filled with correction fluid. I was very surprised.” This person understood my work was not just a rough drawing. In other words, exhibits show people what they cannot see on the printed page. I think exhibits are meaningful and valuable in letting people see that. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on October 8, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

24 Profile and Interview with Shio Sato (b. 12/6/1952, Miyagi–4/4/2010)

Figure 24.1  One Zero, 1984–1986 ©Shio Sato.

Shio Sato is a pen name that means salt and sugar. Sato graduated from Miyagi Prefectural Sanuma High School, the same school from which the famous manga artists Shotoro Ishinomori and Katsuhiro Otomo graduated. After high school she worked for a printing company in Tokyo. In 1971, after sending a fan letter to Moto Hagio, she was invited to visit Hagio at the Oizumi Salon, the famous meeting place for the Magnificent 24 group of female mangaka. A year later, she became an assistant to Hagio and ­Takemiya, the leaders of the Oizumi Salon, which gave her opportunities to show her work to editors. In 1976, she won a manga school award from the monthly girls’ manga magazine Shojo Comic for her story Hoshi no

Profile and Interview with Shio Sato   221 Oka Yori (From the Star Hill). In 1977, she debuted with the title Koi wa Ajinamono!? (Love Is a Wonderful Thing!?) published in the February issue of a special edition of Shojo Comic. She is often called a member of Posuto Nijuyo-nen Gumi (the Post-Magnificent 24 Group). The name “Magnificent 24 Group” refers to the members of the Oizumi Salon who were born in and around the Japanese imperial calendar year Showa 24 (1949) and significantly contributed to the development of ­subgenres in shojo manga and marked the first major entry of women ­artists into manga. Depending on different opinions of critics and fans, the members differ, but mostly include Yasuko Aoike, Moto Hagio, Riyoko Ikeda, Yumiko Oshima, Keiko Takemiya, Toshie Kihara, Ryoko Yamagishi, and Minori Kimura. Their works often examine “radical and philosophical issues,” including sexuality and gender, and many of their works are now considered “classics” of shojo manga. The Post-Magnificent 24 Group also includes Wakako Mizuki, Michi Tarasawa, Aiko Ito, Yasuko Sakata, and Yukiko Kai, in addition to Shio Sato. As a post-24 Gumi mangaka, Sato has been celebrated for her introspective science fiction and fantasy manga. She is a unique mangaka, one who depicts genuine science fiction using manga as her medium. Although her output is not as prolific as that of other mangaka, she is distinguished for the high quality of her stories and artwork. For example, Yumemiru Wakusei (Dreaming Planet) (1980) describes a lost world that predates human civilization, one where spirituality and industrial technologies coexist. Through Sato’s quiet point of view and the world of science fiction, readers are given a new perspective on the world we live in, turn their thoughts toward humankind’s future, and discover the preciousness of life in their own humble existence. In this way, Sato’s works provide her audience with the pure joy of reading science fiction. Her 1984 masterpiece, One Zero, is the story of Buddhist and Animistic gods (possibly Shinto) using technology in a war over the nature and future of humankind. It is one of the most critically acclaimed works in fantasy and science fiction shojo manga. In this way, Sato’s manga often express a wish to build lines of communication between human beings and the cyber world or humans and nature. However, the blended organic and inorganic world that she creates in her manga is a true “strange land” that does not easily allow for such communication. The universe Sato creates in her manga is a mysterious, yet realistic world. Although created through an accumulation of events that are likely to happen in reality, Sato somehow ends up with a completely unexpected kind of universe. The hard and natural line of Sato’s drawing style supports the construction of her imagined world. Some have noted that, although written in the 1980s, One Zero quite accurately anticipated the situation of modern people who communicate via an intensive use of social media. Sato’s other important works include Kinseiju (Venus Tree) (1978); a series about the oversized spaceship Ahosen (Ship of Fools) (1980); Seireioh (King of the

222  Profile and Interview with Shio Sato Spirits) (1988); The Changeling (1989); Oni Ou Mono (Ogre chaser) (1995); and Majutsushi Sagashi (Search for the Magician) (2000). In her science fiction and fantasy works she creates worlds that are ­definitely not of this earth. Yet she makes us feel nostalgic for the earth with a mixture of Western and Eastern worlds and past, present, and future. Her dialogue and monologues of her characters are quietly intellectual and philosophical. Sato is a word magician whose words stay with readers and affect them deeply, making them think about where we are from and where we are going. Sato’s works attract not only Japanese shojo manga fans but also North American audiences. Her short story, “The Changeling,” in addition to being published in the English-language anthology Four Shojo Stories, was serialized in Animerica. Four Shojo Stories is a shojo manga anthology released by Viz Media in February 1996 and contains two stories by Keiko Nishi and one each by Moto Hagio and Shio Sato. This was one of the first shojo titles released in English in North America. Sadly, Sato died from brain cancer on April 4, 2010, at the age of 57. It is a pity that we have lost such a great talent. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to SATO: I think the inspiration came

become a mangaka? from reading Ishinomori Shotaro no Mangaka Nyumon (Shotaro Ishinomori’s Guide to Becoming a Manga Artist). In the art circle I joined in high school, a few of the senior male students were sitting in a corner, hand copying Ishinomori’s manga almost exactly the way it was. When I saw the copies for the first time, I was very surprised because I didn’t know they were copies. Then I was surprised again when I discovered that it was boys who made the ­copies. Because I was the kind of person who couldn’t draw the same face twice, I couldn’t really understand that manga was actually drawn by human hands. And I didn’t believe it either (laughs). But the fact was, I saw people in front of me drawing, and it was therefore obvious that their drawing wasn’t printed (laughs), even though it was still a copy. That same day, I bought a pen and indigo ink on my way home. INTERVIEWER:  When did you actually start drawing? SATO:  I already drew manga before then with a pencil in a notebook. But that’s how I started to draw in a style close to real manga manuscripts in the first year of high school. I was so fascinated by the lines I drew in jet-black ink that I thought, “I should contribute my work!” I drew 16 pages but I came to myself just before sending them and didn’t contribute after all. I contributed much later after I moved to Tokyo and found a job and then left the job. INTERVIEWER:  So you were working. SATO:  Yes. I used to make engravings at a printing company. My work was to make page layouts. I pretty much enjoyed my work, but I still wanted to draw manga. So I left my work after about a year and a half without any prospect of having an income.

Profile and Interview with Shio Sato   223 INTERVIEWER: Really!? SATO:  I had saved a bit,

so I thought I could manage for about two years, although it was really a small amount of money. But it was okay because I am good at doing nothing, so I don’t spend money (laughs). Around that time, I sent a fan letter to Moto Hagio and she wrote me back ­saying, “Would you like to come and visit me?” So I rushed off to the rental house that Hagio shared with Keiko Takemiya. I even stayed overnight on my first visit. Norie Masuyama lived across from them. Oh, that’s right. Actually, it was Masuyama who sent me the letter of invitation! (laughs) INTERVIEWER:  That sounds great. SATO: Well, things go like this when you are young. Unlike today, there were no e-mails or cell phones. So I stayed overnight, and we chatted away through the day and night. In that house, there were many o ­ thers who came and went. It was that famous “Oizumi Salon” [Oizumi is a neighborhood in Tokyo]. Besides chatting, I just hung around and had a good time (laughs). When those two were working, I helped with things like “betanuri” [a process in manga-making that involves filling in blank spaces with black ink]. However, since I was basically just playing around, I ran out of money after a while and they hired me as an assistant. INTERVIEWER:  An assistant to Hagio and Takemiya? SATO: I hung around and occasionally did some assistant work (laughs). An editor who came to know me intimidated me, saying, “We won’t hire you after you’re 20.” But I managed to continue till I was 26 years old (laughs). Even after I made my debut, my main work was as an assistant. In the end, I continued to work as an assistant until it became physically impossible for me to do so when my serial story job started. INTERVIEWER: What has been your happiest experience since you made your debut? SATO:  A happy, or rather, fun time was the time I spent in Oizumi. Oh, but that was actually mostly before my debut (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  Have you had any sad or disappointing experiences during your career? SATO:  I don’t recall anything in particular, but meeting deadlines was harder than anything. I am slow to make a story, or well, I’m just lazy. So, that delays the Name [meaning “storyboard making”], and naturally things get crazy around the deadline. Not only the physical stress, but also my drawing becomes rough. So it’s not good at all for my mental health. I feel I might get a fever just by thinking about it. INTERVIEWER:  What is the power of shojo manga? SATO: I’d say the feeling of intoxication. Shojo manga has plenty of “­beautiful!,” “cute!,” and strong sentiments. In my childhood, there weren’t many shojo novels around, and movies and TV programs were not really made for young girls either. All we had was shojo manga. The

224  Profile and Interview with Shio Sato real world was much more miserable and beautiful, cute things were hard to come by. For that reason, the shojo manga I encountered in my childhood were the source of my dreams and longing. I read every manga with enthusiasm, but if I were to make a special mention of one work, it would be Hideko Mizuno’s Hoshi no Tategoto (Harp of the Stars). It had both the large scale and dynamism of boys’ manga and shojo manga’s beauty and romanticism. I was truly fascinated. INTERVIEWER:  I feel a high-spirited beauty in what you draw. Your work really stands out as unique with a certain adult taste and is different from a simple depiction of daily life. SATO:  Since I was already at a mature age when I made my debut, I was no longer interested in nor cared about shojo manga’s “beautiful” and “cute” (laughs). My interests had shifted to completely different things. In that respect, I didn’t necessarily get a good reputation as a professional shojo mangaka. But I couldn’t help it. INTERVIEWER: There are many science fiction stories among your work. Since you and Moto Hagio draw science fiction stories, people have an understanding that shojo manga and science fiction are closely related. However, originally, I think science fiction used to be seen as something quite different from shojo manga. You dared to step into that field. What did you think was the appeal of science fiction, and how did you feel about it? SATO:  The “appeal of science fiction” to me is probably, “an amazing view that suddenly unfolds in front of our eyes after a long, steady climb up a ladder!” In other words, you climb up a ladder of logic, one step at a time. You cannot jump. In fact, if I could, if I had the ability to jump or fly off, I wouldn’t be reading science fiction to start with. I would read poetry and literature instead. Since I have neither the ability to jump nor wings to fly with, I climb up the ladder step by step. Then, you suddenly find yourself standing in a strange place, dumbfounded by the bizarre, unfamiliar view. I enjoy that sensation. INTERVIEWER: Now I understand. Once someone pointed out that your manga depicts “a true exotic world.” But it’s not simply an imagined world. It’s an exotic world you reach after following logic step by step, instead of making a big leap. And that’s why it appears real. SATO:  I’d be happy if that’s how it really is. The first science fiction I encountered in my childhood was that of Isaac Asimov, and I am still a fan of his. On the other hand, with age, I have started to pursue a more profound and “strange view.” Who I reached in the end were Cordwainer Smith and James Tiptree Jr. The works I recommend? I’d recommend Smith’s The Game of Rat and Dragon and Tiptree Jr.’s Ten-Thousand Light-Years from Home. Among contemporary SF writers, I ­recommend Ted Chiang. INTERVIEWER:  Who are the characters that you particularly like among the manga you drew?

Profile and Interview with Shio Sato   225 SATO: The

character I have the most empathy for is Iris in Yumemiru Wakusei (Dreamy Planet). The movie Lawrence of Arabia changed my perspective on life. And Iris is a character who was born from that ­influence. T. E. Lawrence [of Lawrence of Arabia] was a very complicated personality, and life was difficult for him to live. Until I saw this movie, the only type of character I liked was a “pure, just, and beautiful” one. However, after falling in love with Lawrence, I entered into a different stage where “The dark side in particular is good!” INTERVIEWER:  That’s interesting. SATO:  As for myself, maybe because I grew up in an area with our ­family plus only three houses around, I had a really hard time communicating with teachers and classmates after I entered elementary school. It gradually became easier as I grew up though, and I was in heaven once I became an adult. Anyway, when I encountered Lawrence while I was struggling, my view of people and life changed 180 degrees. I was totally absorbed in Lawrence’s world for most of my 20s, most intensely during a seven-year period. SATO:  Seven years! SATO:  That’s right. Because of that, I was able to start to feel that a person doesn’t have to be pure, just, and beautiful, and rather, due to his or her weaknesses, I can sympathize with a person. This realization gave me the will to draw. INTERVIEWER: You have created quite a limited number of manga, but all your fans are looking forward to reading your new work. SATO:  There’s no doubt that I am better at reading than drawing (laughs). I feel happy just to read other people’s work. I think I only have onefifth the will for creation compared to other artists. The amount I have drawn is also one-fifth of what others have drawn. So, this is based on a calculation (laughs). INTERVIEWER: We’ll be waiting, however long it takes. Please keep up the good work. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on September 20, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

25 Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano (b. 7/24/1960, Ibaraki)

Figure 25.1  Onmyoji vol.7, 1997 ©Reiko Okano.

Okano started creating manga while an art student in college. In 1982, she debuted with Esther, Please through the girls’ monthly manga magazine Petit Flower. In 1984, she published her major work Fancy Dance (1984–1990), a story about a Buddhist monk who is being trained to succeed the temple master. It was adapted into a live action film by director Masayuki Shubo (director of Let’s Dance). In 1989, she published Ryogoku Oshare Rikishi (Ryogoku Fancy Sumo Wrestler, 1989–1990), about the world of sumo ­wrestlers, in the boys’ weekly Magazine Big Comic Spirits. The popularity of this work caused a surge of interest in sumo in Japan, revitalizing the national sport and making it attractive to young people. From 1993 to 2005, Okano published her most successful work, Onmyoji (The Yin-Yang Master), based on a novel by Baku Yumemakura about a

Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano  227 real tenth-century medicine man, Seimei Abe. Yumemakura pointed out that Okano interpreted his novel in her own way and raised the standard of manga with her great visual skills and aesthetics, bringing manga to a more sophisticated level. Yumemakura continued to say that “not all mangaka can make it. Her talent as an artist made it possible to do that. When I saw the first installment of the manga Onmyoji, I got shivers and I told everybody about the superior quality of her artwork. I congratulate her on her success and talent.” Since Okano publishes in both women’s and men’s magazines, it is not easy to decide whether or not her manga can be categorized as shojo manga. However, her style is marked by the rich poetic sentiment that women’s media have carefully fostered over a long period of time. One can see this in the graceful beauty of the conduct of Okano’s characters, the picturesque and polished structure of every frame, and the emphasis on subtlety in story development. Since Onmyoji, one of her major works, Yomihenjo Yawa, a fantasy set in 17th-century China, has been running in serial installments since 1995. Okano uses brush and ink to evoke Japanese traditional painting. When she chooses new material, Okano absorbs herself in that world as much as possible; she completely devotes herself to experiencing and researching the topic, then she releases all the knowledge that she’s accumulated into her creation. After depicting the spiritual world via Onmyoji, Okano took belly dancing as a theme in the serial manga Inanna (2007–2010). This seemed to indicate that she aimed to respond more to the physical world. Her most recent work is Onmyoji Tamatebako (Onmyoji Casket), which is a serial story in which Seimei Abe’s wife Makuzu, in the role of narrator, reads selected stories from books in her treasure box (2011–present). As a part of the modern shojo manga world, Okano is part of a new ­generation that is not directly influenced by the god of modern manga, Osamu Tezuka, in spite of the fact that she married Tezuka’s only son, Makoto Tezuka, who is highly influenced by his father’s manga world. Throughout the diversity of themes in her manga, Okano maintains a sense of humor that is supported with an intellectual aesthetic quality. INTERVIEWER:  What inspired you to draw manga? OKANO:  It was movies. But making movies involves

many people. In contrast, to draw manga requires only a pencil and paper. So I started to draw manga as if I were making storyboards for a movie. That was when I was in high school. When I was in junior high, I used to write novels or stories. But writing is problematic because it’s difficult to describe events that happen simultaneously in different places. I wanted to instantaneously depict simultaneous events, and I realized manga makes that possible. INTERVIEWER:  So, you’re interested in what’s happening at the same moment in different places?

228  Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano OKANO: Yes. INTERVIEWER:  What kind of movies do you like? OKANO: Macaroni [spaghetti] westerns (laughs).

I got a kick out of Sam Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch. There was a cutback of two scenes: a ­person who was shot falls from a roof; another person, who was shot somewhere else, comes crashing out through a window. Although this technique is quite common in movies today, it was not used before then. As for drawing, I have been greatly influenced by the illustration artist, Motoichiro Takebe. INTERVIEWER:  Movies and Motoichiro Takebe. That probably means you are more inclined toward mature tastes in your drawing. So you didn’t read shojo manga then? OKANO:  I read the popular ones. In those days the popular ones were by Moto Hagio, Riyoko Ikeda, and also Yasuko Aoike. I like Aoike’s comedic stories. INTERVIEWER:  So, you like “owarai” [literally, “a laugh,” a general term for Japanese comedy]. OKANO:  I do. Even for novels, I like the humorous ones. For example, I liked Arsene Lupin and adventure novels. I used to read Edgar Rice Burroughs’s serials on Mars and Venus, serials illustrated by Takebe, heroic fantasy, detective novels, and mystery novels. Dickson Carr wrote a story that switched between a very serious part and a very funny part. Half of the story is so funny that it makes you roll around on the floor laughing. Many of his characters have very distinct personalities. Carr himself is English in origin, and he sometimes makes jokes about differences of ethnicity. INTERVIEWER:  The sense of humor in your manga seems to have an affinity with British humor. For example, it’s elegant and ironic. OKANO: Talking about which, I was a big fan of Monty Python. In the female high school I went to, many girls in my class were Monty Python fans. We would watch it at home on TV around midnight and then imitate their skits at school the next day. When entering the classroom in the morning, we would joke, “Goodnight, ding-ding-dingding-ding-ding” and so on. Macaroni westerns were also popular in our class. Even though we were girls, we’d mimic lines from the movies like, “Shit, I’m a goner.” The card game Napoleon also became popular because everyone plays cards in western movies. We were influenced by the movies, and all of us learned how to shuffle the way a card shark would or quickly split cards into two stacks. Even during classes, we used to c­ irculate cards and play poker. On graduation day, even though students in other classes were in tears standing around their classroom teacher, we were like, “let’s play cards” as soon as our teacher left the room (laughs). Since we kept playing till late, we were locked inside the building. So,  we all graduated through the girls’ bathroom window (laughs).

Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano  229 INTERVIEWER:  That

kind of atmosphere comes through in the cheerfulness and optimism of your work. OKANO:  I think you can see it in stories like Fancy Dance. INTERVIEWER:  What has been your happiest experience since you became a mangaka? OKANO:  That’s a difficult one. INTERVIEWER:  How about a sad or disappointing experience then? OKANO:  I don’t have any. I have no such memories (laughs). INTERVIEWER:  Have you always worked with a cool mind? OKANO:  I am pretty cool-headed. Plus I’m a very positive person, so I only look to the future. I forget what I did in the past as if flushing it down the toilet. In other words, I always empty myself. I’m especially that way with my work. For each story, I make use of all the knowledge and information I collect through interviews. I use it up until I have nothing left for the next story. But that’s all right for me; I just use it all up. Then I look forward to what comes out next when I have nothing left. And something always comes out. INTERVIEWER:  Does that mean you don’t really read your previous work? OKANO:  I don’t, although I read to make sure the content doesn’t overlap. I’ve been using everything up this way since the time of Fancy Dance. INTERVIEWER:  Is this your way by nature, or have you acquired that talent after making an effort to be that way? OKANO:  I think I acquired that skill as a result of my work since I became a professional. For instance, the story of Fancy Dance, which is about a Buddhist monk, has something unusual about it. That kind of a story was not possible in shojo manga in the past. I planned to make the story that way from the beginning. My conspiracy was to start the story with a very good-looking main character and drag readers into the world of Buddhist monks. I had mentioned it to my ­editor, but he didn’t think I would really depict temple life. As for me, I am the type of person who wants to experience everything myself so that I can draw realistic stories. So, I visited a temple once a week and practiced zen ­meditation. And because my editor used to say, “The monk’s serial will end after five issues,” I believed it and used up all my research in five issues. However, after the serial concluded, my editor came back to me and said, “Let’s continue the monk’s story” (laughs). So I started to interview again. To the contrary of what you might expect, material of a very different quality comes out when you use up what you have. So, you shouldn’t be thrifty about it. INTERVIEWER:  Do you work on a regular schedule? OKANO:  I work late hours. I usually open up my office around 2 pm, then staff members come in, and there are days when they stay overnight. Usually, the staff leaves around 2 or 3 am, but I stay behind and continue working. My real work starts then, and I continue working till 8 or 9 in the morning, for example when I cannot finish making the storyboards.

230  Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano INTERVIEWER:  Does it take time to make storyboards? OKANO:  I don’t have the time for it. INTERVIEWER:  Doesn’t drawing take a long time? OKANO:  It takes time to draw, especially for drafting. It takes a lot of time to

instruct my staff about drafting. Everything is done in one shot. There’s rarely a redo. It’s similar to being a martial artist. There’s no time to draw again if I make a mistake because if I don’t finish, my manuscripts won’t get published. INTERVIEWER:  What do you do though when you’d really like to re-draw? OKANO:  Usually when that happens, somehow, we still have time left. When I redo a part, I cannot think of the next scene until I finish that part. Especially for Onmyoji (The Yin-Yang Master), the quality of our work depends so much on the mental and physical condition of the staff. Scenes don’t come out unless everyone is clean and healthy. My heart aches a lot when someone is not feeling well or struggling. I cannot hold a pen because I’m wondering about what’s going on with that person. My heartaches go away when that person relaxes. Since I quickly sense when others feel even a little nervous, there were times I asked my staff to leave before I drew really important scenes. INTERVIEWER:  How do you maintain your motivation for living the life of a mangaka? OKANO: I actually have no motivation (laughs). But the things I have to draw come to me of themselves. INTERVIEWER:  What are the things that came to you recently? OKANO: Belly dancing. Since I empty myself when I draw a story, what I do is just lend my hands and body to the story. I believe what makes me draw is an external force of some sort. It is the only way I draw, especially for The Yin-Yang Master. Those who intervene in this work are Abe no Seimei [the main character] himself and the uppermost god who wants me to draw The Yin-Yang Master. In between them is the director who oversees the actual process (laughs). In addition, there are other gods who intervene depending on the content of the story. Sometimes it’s Tsukuyomi, and at other times it’s a goddess and so on. I channel them while drawing in order to find out what they would like me to draw, although sometimes our opinions differ (Okano and interviewer laugh). In the end, I defer to the topmost god. Since I worked this way, after I finished The Yin-Yang Master, I became very curious about the human body. During the time I was drawing The Yin-Yang Master, when I told people that there were gods behind it they got cold thinking I’d lost my mind (laughs). But I was mesmerized by the intense charms of the gods while I was drawing. They have emotions that are more explosive and passionate than those of humans, and yet they are very cute. And they have very profound love. I depicted their love and their being just as they are through my pen. Some readers can accept what I depict easily, and others reject it completely and in fact deny the

Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano  231 existence of gods (laughs). To me it feels like, even though the gods are sending love to humans, we keep rejecting them. Yet, the gods never give up even though their broken hearts are bleeding. When I see that happening, I wonder why the gods spoil humans so much. But I think the reason the gods have such high expectations for humans is because humans are rare beings, not on earth but in the universe. Then, I got curious about what happens when a human body is extremely clean and all its energy is extracted. So, at first I thought of learning Tai Chi, but whenever I was about to start taking a lesson, I was interrupted by something. I couldn’t go because I either got a fever or had some kind of business to take care of. I found it strange. But I thought, when the right time comes, I will meet a master who will teach me how to extract energy. And while I was wondering when that would happen, instead, I met someone who wanted to teach me belly dancing. INTERVIEWER:  That’s fate. OKANO:  What I have done up to this point is to push my stories forward with the kind of energy that is unimaginable in a normal physical world. However, I myself haven’t experienced bringing energy up in a spiral from my heels. So I wanted to try combining energy and muscle strength. I ended up trying it with belly dancing. In the first lesson, I raised my hands like this (with belly dance moves, Okano raises her hands above her head) imagining a sky full of stars, as if I were gathering the energy of the stars. Then, when I moved my hands down, I saw something like a veil or shower coming down. In contrast to Abe no Seimei, who gathered energy by calling stars by names and through Shinto rituals of celebration, belly dancing gathers energy through the body. That was really surprising. Even though it’s a dance, it’s still a primitive form of magic. Until I realized this, belly dancing was just a hobby. However, as soon as I understood this kind of thing, I couldn’t just let it be a hobby and I made it into a story. Now I again have no hobbies (laughs). INTERVIEWER: So, that became the serial story, Inanna, which started in Shuukan Morning weekly magazine. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the unique power of shojo manga? OKANO: I think it’s the flexibility. Shojo manga is flexible, maybe because women by nature are flexible and tolerant. Men on the other hand are sturdy. But I think it’s best for shojo manga to have both masculine energy and flexibility. I find that many shojo mangaka have a strong masculinity even though they draw shojo manga. I believe this blend of masculinity and femininity is a part of shojo manga’s power and attractiveness. INTERVIEWER:  What do you think is the significance of exhibiting manga in museums? OKANO:  Manga is two-dimensional and is printed on paper. However, you can also make it three-dimensional or into films like animations or other kinds of objects. By going beyond two-dimensional representations,

232  Profile and Interview with Reiko Okano we can change manga’s form and dimensions, and display it in ways people can touch. I think only museums make this possible. INTERVIEWER: Recently, Japanese manga, especially shojo manga, have been exported and are gaining acceptance overseas. How do you feel about this? OKANO:  I feel people overseas are paying attention to manga’s flexibility of expression. I believe shojo manga has an unlimited potential for expression. In addition, the energy that radiates from the images of manga is also unlimited. The growing interest in shojo manga’s potential abroad might well mean that they accept shojo manga with such enthusiasm that they start creating shojo manga from their own perspective. And this might happen from a quite different sensibility, beyond the J­apanese definition of shojo manga. I think it’d be wonderful if that stimulates the development of new skills on the Japanese side and as a result expands manga’s potential. (Interviewed by Tomoko Yamada on October 2, 2007. Translated by Shigemi Minetaka & Thomas Mattman.)

Contributors

Michael Bitz, Ed.D., Executive Director, Center for Educational Pathways, Assistant Professor of Literacy and Teacher Education, Ramapo ­College of New Jersey, and Honorary Adjunct Assistant Professor of Music ­Education, Teachers College-Columbia University, US Dr. Michael Bitz, Ed.D, is an internationally recognized innovator in education who has worked to establish creativity at the core of academic learning for learners around the world. His Comic Book Project has impacted over 100,000 youths worldwide. He is the first recipient of the Educational Entrepreneurship Fellowship at the Mind Trust and the Distinguished Alumni Early Career Award from Teachers C ­ ollege, Columbia U ­ niversity. Dr. Bitz is the author of two books: Manga High (Harvard Education Press) and When Commas Meet Kryptonite (Teachers College Press). Jin-Shiow Chen, Ph.D., National Chiayi University Department of Fine Arts Graduate Institute of Visual Arts College of Humanities and Arts, Taiwan Jin-Shiow Chen earned her Ph.D. with a specialty in art education from Indiana University in the US. She is now Professor of Art ­Education in the Department of Visual Arts at National Chiayi University, ­Taiwan. Her previous research interest was community-based art education but has now shifted to young people’s socio-aesthetic experiences in anime/manga fan culture. She has published articles on this latter topic in several journals including the Journal of Social Theory in Art ­Education, Journal of Visual Arts Research, Journal of Cultural Research in Art ­Education, and Taiwanese journals. Jin-Shiow Chen is also an active artist in Taiwan. She has created several solo exhibitions of installation art and participated in many group exhibitions around Taiwan. She considers herself an eco-feminist concerned with the feminine-yin quality and its potential power.

234 Contributors Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase, Ph.D., Associate Professor of Asian Study and Chair, Vassar College, New York, US Hiromi Tsuchiya Dollase is Associate Professor of Japanese at ­Vassar College. Her research interest is Japanese girls’ magazines from the early twentieth century. Her work includes “Ribbons Undone: The Shojo Story Debates in Prewar Japan” in Girl Reading Girl in Japan (ed. Tomoko Aoyama and Barbara Hartley, Routledge, 2009) and “Kawabata’s Wartime Message in Utsukushii tabi (Beautiful Voyage)” in Negotiating Censorship in Modern Japan (ed. Rachel ­Hutchinson, Routledge, 2013). She co-edited a special issue of The US–Japan ­Women’s Journal featuring shojo manga in 2010 and a book entitled Shojo Manga Wonderland (Meiji Shoin, 2012). Yukari Fujimoto, Professor of gender study and visual pop-culture at the School of Global Japanese Studies at Meiji University and a prominent critic of shojo manga Yukari Fujimoto became an editor at Chikuma Shobo Publishers after graduating from the Department of Education at Tokyo University. She has organized many successful publications related to comics, gender, and sexuality written by female writers in Japan such as Azusa Nakajima and Chizuko Ueno, and has published articles and books in hr own right, including a critical examination of gender issues in shojo manga, Watashi no Ibasyo wa Doko ni Aruno (Where Is My Place?), Kairaku Denryu (Pleasure Electricity), Shojomanga Damasii (Soul of Shojo Manga), and Aijyohyoron (Criticism of Love). She has served on numerous juries of manga-related awards. Fujimoto became a professor at the School of Global Japanese Studies at Meiji University and has been a prominent shojo manga critic since 2008. Her recent research interest is cross-­cultural analysis of manga and international manga marketing. Marc Hairston, Ph.D., Research Scientist of Physics, University of Texas at Dallas and chief editor of Miyazaki’s films website in the US Dr. Marc Hairston is a professional space physicist at the ­University of Texas at Dallas who turned his love for animation and anime into a ­second academic career. Together with Dr. Pamela Gossin he has taught several undergraduate courses at UT Dallas on anime and on the films of Hayao Miyazaki. He has written numerous articles for the magazine Animerica and the academic journal ­Mechademia, where he serves on the board of editors. He also co-created the only manga series ever produced by NASA, the Cindi in Space series.

Contributors  235 Cheng Tju Lim, Country Editor of the International Journal of Comic Art, Singapore Cheng Tju Lim is an educator who writes about history and popular culture. His articles have appeared in the Southeast Asian Journal of Social Science, Journal of Popular Culture, and Print Quarterly. He is the country editor (Singapore) for the International Journal of Comic Art and also the co-editor of Liquid City 2, an anthology of Southeast Asian comics published by Image Comics. He is one of the authors of The University Socialist Club and the Contest for Malaya: Tangled Strands of Modernity (Amsterdam University Press/National ­University of Singapore Press). Frenchy Lunning, Ph.D., Professor, Minneapolis College of Art and Design and chief editor of manga journal, Mechademia, University of ­Minneapolis publication, US Frenchy Lunning, Professor of Design History and Cultural ­Studies at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, has a Ph.D. from the University of Minnesota and is a Fulbright Scholar. She is also the Editor-in-Chief for the Mechademia series of books published by ­ the University of M ­ innesota Press. She is the author of Subcultural ­Fashion: Fetish Style (2013) and Cosplay: Masque of Fandom (2015), published by Berg/Bloomsbury ­Publishers, and various chapters in many books and journals. She is also a film and video producer with Moving Walkway Productions. Nozomi Masuda, lecturer of Visual Pop-Culture, Konan Women’s ­University, Japan Nozomi Masuda is a full-time lecturer at Konan Women’s University, Japan, and also leads a shojo manga research discussion group in Japan. Her research emphasis is media culture and manga studies, especially media for shojo (girls) such as shojo magazines, shojo manga, and animated television series for shojo. She has numerous publications to her credit. Works from 2013 are “Searching for ­Mangatic Expression in Shojo Manga, Shojo no Tomo and Shin-Shojo” (in Manga Genre Studies, edited by Masaharu Ibaragi) and An Analysis of ­Broadcasting Data of Japanese TV Animation: Creating the List and Overview, published by Konan Women’s University in 2013. Kazumi Nagaike, Ph.D., Associate Professor, Oita University, Japan Kazumi Nagaike is an Associate Professor at the Center for ­International Education and Research at Oita University in Japan. She is the author

236 Contributors of Fantasies of Cross-Dressing: Japanese Women Write Male-Male ­Erotica (Brill Academic Publishers, 2012) and co-editor of the collection Boys Love in Japan: History, Culture, Community (University Press of Mississippi, edited by Mark McLelland, Kazumi Nagaike, Katsuhiko ­ Suganuma, and James Welker, 2013). She has also edited special issues of the Journal of Graphic Novels and Comics (Boys’ Love Manga 4:1, June 2013) and Transformative Works and Cultures (Transnational Boys’ Love Fan ­Studies, no. 12, March 2013). Nagaike has published a wide range of journal articles, book chapters, and translations in relation to her ongoing analysis of gender/sexuality in Japanese literature and popular culture. Shige (CJ) Suzuki, Ph.D., Assistant Professor, Baruch College, The City ­University of New York, US Shige (CJ) Suzuki is Assistant Professor of Modern Languages and Comparative Literature at Baruch College, The City University of ­ New York. He received his Ph.D. in Literature from the University of ­California at Santa Cruz in 2008. His research interests are comparative literature, film, critical theory, and popular culture. Recently published articles on comics include “Learning from Monsters: Mizuki Shigeru’s Yokai and War Manga” (2011) in Image [and] Narrative and “Tatsumi Yoshihiro’s Gekiga and the Global Sixties: Aspiring for an Alternative” (2013) in Manga’s Cultural Crossroads, Eds. Jaqueline Berndt and ­Bettina K ­ ümmerling-Meibauer, Routledge. Editor’s profile: Masami Toku, Ed.D., Professor of Art Education, California State ­University, Chico, US Masami Toku is a Japanese scholar and has been Professor of Art Education at California State University Chico since 1999. She ­ received a BFA at the school of the Art Institute of Chicago in 1992, and her MA and Ph.D, in art education at the University of Illinois at Urbana-­Champaign in 1998. Toku’s research interest is the cross-cultural study of children’s artistic and aesthetic developments in their pictorial worlds and how visual popular culture influences children’s visual literacy. She works internationally as an educator, publisher, researcher, and speaker. Toku has published more than seven dozen articles, newsletters book reviews, book chapters, and books in English and Japanese since coming to CSU, Chico. Her recent books are Art Appreciation: Multicultural Perspectives (2011), and Art, Teaching and Learning, with Teresa Cotner (2014). Toku is the general director of the international touring exhibition project Girls’ Power! Shojo Manga! and has given talks in more than

Contributors  237 fifteen countries in Asia, Europe, North America, and South ­America. Because of her contribution to the international art educational society, Toku received the 2008 USSEA (United States Society for E ­ ducation through Art) International Ziegfeld Award, which is given to the best international scholar in the US. She also received CSU, Chico’s ­Outstanding Teacher’s Award (2010–2011). Toku’s new touring exhibition, World of Shojo Manga: Mirrors of Girls’ Desires, originated at CSU, Chico, in November 2013 in response to the demands of US audiences. It is scheduled to travel to the US, Mexico, and possibly South American venues until 2017.

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Glossary

Akitashoten (Akita Publishing Co., Ltd.) (秋田書店)  A Japanese publishing company established on August 10, 1948, in Tokyo that targets teenagers. It currently publishes mostly manga. Its most popular manga is a boys’ weekly manga magazine, Shonen Champion, first published on July 15, 1969. See http://www.akitashoten.co.jp/. Anime（ｱﾆﾒ）  A Japanese-English term short for “animation” and characterized by stylish and colorful pictures showing lively characters in stories with many different settings. Most anime targets young children and families, but recently an increasing number of anime products have been created for adults. Anime is used not only for entertainment but also for education in multiple areas such as history and human rights. It is also used extensively in advertising. Bessatsu （別冊）  A magazine published as a supplement to a regularly published magazine. For example, the girls’ comic Margaret has a special edition called Bessatsu Margaret. Bishonen（美少年）  A term meaning “beautiful boys (or youths).” It describes an aesthetic wherein a young man whose beauty and sexual appeal blur the boundaries of gender or sexual orientation. It has always shown its strongest manifestation in Japanese pop culture. Bishojo（美少女）  A word referring to young and beautiful girls. It is often used in the world of manga, anime, and computer games to describe a heroine as opposed to a hero who is called “bishonen.” Boys’ Love （ﾎﾞｰｲｽﾞﾗﾌﾞ）  A genre of novels and manga that deal with homosexual love relationships between beautiful teenage boys. Popular with women, it is a direct translation of the Japanese word “Shonen Ai,” “Shonen” meaning “boys” and “Ai” meaning “love.” The genre is sometimes given the English name “men’s love.” Comic Market（ｺﾐｯｸﾏｰｹｯﾄ）  The biggest dojinshi selling event, a cultural phenomenon where mostly young amateurs display and sell their manga comics and magazines. It was first held in 1975 and has been a semiannual feature since then. It is now held in Tokyo Harbor at the Tokyo International Trade Center. The center houses six enormous halls, with 80,000 square meters of space. Comiket （ｺﾐｹ）  Short for Comic Market. See Comic Market. See http:// www.comiket.co.jp.

240 Glossary Dojinshi （同人誌）  Original manga-like fanzines, hobby magazines, and comic books produced by amateurs. “Dojin” means people who share the same taste, and “shi” means magazine. The term dojinshi has come to refer to both clubs and circles of high school or college students who create their own comic books, and to the comic books themselves. Furoku （ふろく）  A term equivalent to “Omake” meaning “extra gift.” Manga and magazines sometimes offer extra gifts, along with the publication itself, to encourage customers to purchase it. Gekiga (劇画)  Graphic manga that uses realistic drawings to depict serious stories, mostly for adult male readers. Gekkanshi （月刊誌）  A monthly magazine Hakusensha （白泉社）  A Japanese publishing company founded in1973 and independent from the publishing house Shueisha. It is best known as a shojo manga publisher. Its first magazine, a semimonthly shojo manga magazine entitled Hana to Yume (Flowers and Dreams), started in 1974. See http://www.hakusensha.co.jp. Hanano Nijyuyo-nen Gumi (Magnificent 24 Group 花の２４年組)  A name referring to the members of the Oizumi Salon who were born in and around the Japanese imperial calendar year Showa 24 (1949) and contributed significantly to the development of subgenres in shojo manga. It marked the first major entry of women artists into manga. Depending on the varying opinions of critics and fans, the members are diverse but mostly include at least three: Keiko Takemiya, Ryoko Yamagishi, and Moto Hagio. Their works often examine “radical and philosophical issues,” including sexuality and gender, and many of their works are now considered classics of shojo manga. Kodansha（講談社）  A major Japanese manga and literature publishing house, founded in 1909, that published the first boys’ manga magazine, Shonen Magazine, in 1959 and the girls’ weekly manga, Shojo Friend, in 1962. See http://www.kodansha.co.jp/English. Lady’s Comic （レディースコミック）  A genre of manga in Japan that originally targeted female readers older than 20 years of age. Currently, it is divided into two types of lady’s comics: one is called “Lady Comi,” which often includes very pornographic sexual scenes; and the other is “Lady’s Comic” or “Young Ladies,” which does not focus on sexual scenes. The first lady’s comic was “Be in LOVE,” published by ­Kodansha in 1979. Mandarake (まんだらけ)  A major used manga and manga-related item chain store founded in 1984 in Nakano, Tokyo. See http://www.man darake.co.jp. Manga (漫画)  Japanese comic(s) influenced by American comic books and Disney animation after World War II. The word literally means ­“humorous picture,” and it developed from the Ukiyoe work of ­Hokusai ­Katsushika (1760–1849) into longer graphic narratives. Manga gradually created an original style of Japanese comic books reflecting the

Glossary  241 complexity of human dramas. The unique style of Japanese manga reached its peak from the 1980s to the 1990s. Mangaka (漫画家)  Writer(s)/cartoonist(s)/comic artist(s) who create manga. Manga School （漫画ｽｸｰﾙ）  Correspondence schools of manga magazines developed to recruit and develop future professional mangaka for their magazines through monthly one-on-one training sessions and (bi) annual competitions with awards. Manken （漫研: 漫画研究会）  A term short for Manga Kenkyukai, meaning an amateur manga study group. Members discuss manga and give each other suggestions and advice. Name（ネーム）  A kind of storyboard but also a word for the stage in the development of each manga. It is a brief sketch of koma-wari (frame layout), composition in each frame, words, and the layout of characters. Omake (おまけ)  A term that means extra in Japanese. Its primary meaning is general and widespread. It is used as an anime and manga fandom term to mean “extra or bonus.” Rensai（連載）  A word meaning to publish manga, novels, articles, and stories in serial form. Scanlation, Scanslation （スキャンレーション）  A term that is a combination of the two words scan and translation. It is the three-stage ­process of scanning, translating, and editing comics from one language into another language, but used mostly for Japanese manga. Scanlations are done by amateur manga fans mostly without permission from the copyright holders. They are usually viewed at websites or as sets of image files downloaded through the Internet. Seinenshi（青年誌）  Magazine for young men (late teens to twenties). Shogakukan （小学館）  A major publisher founded in 1922 that publishes dictionaries, literature, manga, and nonfiction. Shogakukan, together with the publishing house Shueisha, owns Viz Media, which publishes manga in the United States. See http://www.shogakukan.co.jp/english. Shogyoshi（商業誌）  Commercially sold magazine. Shojo Beat  Shojo Beat was a shojo manga magazine published from June 2005 to July 2009 in North America by Viz Media. It was a sister magazine to Shonen Jump and featured serialized chapters from six manga series, as well as articles on Japanese culture, manga, anime, fashion, and beauty. See http://www.viz.com/manga/print/shojo-beat. Shojo Manga（少女ﾏﾝｶﾞ）  Manga published in girls’ magazines and c­ reated for girl readers. Shonen Manga（少年ﾏﾝｶﾞ）  Manga published in boys’ magazines and ­created for boy readers. Shonen-ai（少年愛）  Love between boys. This genre shows male homosexual romances and is popular among women. Shonenshi（少年誌）  Boys’ magazine.

242 Glossary Shueisha (集英社)  Originally a department of the entertainment journal Shogakukan. It became an independent publication company in 1926. Some of its major manga magazines are the weekly boys’ magazine, Shonen Jump, the weekly girls’ magazine Margaret, and the monthly girls’ manga magazine, Ribbon. See http://www.shueisha.co.jp. Shukanshi（週刊誌）  Weekly magazine. Tankobon（単行本）  A collection of a particular series in one volume. This is different from a magazine or a complete-works series, which often contain more than one title. Yaoi（やおい）  Stories about gay men written for women. The term yaoi comes from combining the first syllable of the words Yamanashi, ­Ochinashi, and Iminashi (no climax, no point, no meaning). Yomikiri（読み切り）  A complete short story in a magazine. Zokango（増刊号）  A special issue.

Index

ACG (Anime, Comic, and Game) characters 111 adult-oriented gekiga (manga for adult males) 50 aesthetic: concept of bishojo 110; judgment 2; omission 16; preferences 109, 114 after-school program 127 Akahon 26, 145–147 Akatsuka, Fujio 153, 161, 166, 178 Akitashoten (Akita Publishing Co., Ltd.) 233 Amdani, Larasati and Rony 81 amateur fan comics 5 American comics 11, 21, 34, 50, 78 American comics heroes 21 androgynous 70 animated film 102 animation 102 anime 239; and manga 4, 87; /manga  4; /manga art genres 117; /manga convention 110; manga fan 112; / manga fan culture 5, 109; /manga fandom 5, 109; /shojo of Japanese anime and 88 Anime! Anime! News 32 Animerica 222 Anne Allison’s Millennial Monsters 3, 34 “anta” (you) 45 anthology of Southeast Asian comic stories 78 Aoike, Yasuko 140, 228 Arrietty in The Secret World of Arrietty (2010) 104 art educators 5, 9 artistic and aesthetic development i, 9–11, 14–21; cross-cultural analysis of 9 Aso, Mikoto 134 Asperger’s syndrome 60

Astro Boy 93, 178 autism 3, 50–61; and Representation 56 autobiographical stories 81 Azuma, Hiroki 70, 92 Baudrillard, Jean 29 Be-Boy 69 BE LOVE 135 Belldandy from Ah! My Goddess 112 Bessatsu 239; Action (Separate Volume Action) 171; Margaret; see Margaret Bhabha, Homi 68 bidanshi 113 Big Comic Spirits 226 big eyes 19, 24–26, 29, 112 bishojo (beautiful girls) 109, 239; aesthetic concept of 110; characters 112 Bishojo no Gendaishi (Modern History of Beautiful Girls) 111 Bishojo Senshi Sailor Moon (bishojo senshi meaning “pretty guardians”) 112 bishonen (beautiful boys) 70, 88, 109, 239; (nonheterosexual) 70 bishojo and bishonen 4, 109–117; characters 112, 115; symbolic system of 116 Bitz, Michael 21, 120, 233 BL 3–4, 64–70, 113; creators/fans 65; culture 64; genre 64; lack of seriousness of 65; manga 64; market 64; stereotypes of male characters in 65; stereotypical images of gay BL characters 68 Bleach and D.Gray-Man 124 “Bloemen Blij, Plukken Wij” (title of a Dutch children song) 83 boys’ love 3–4, 64, 113, 141, 198, 203, 206, 239

244 Index boys’ (shonen) and girls’ (shojo) manga 5, 11–12, 50, 135, 139, 153 busaiku (not good-looking) 70 Buzzfeed 38 Card Captor Sakura 111 Chankhamma, Shari 79 character: -based genre 28; goods 29 Chen, Jin-Shiow, 109, 233 Chiba, Tetsuya 153, 173, 179–180, 211 Chibimaruko 40–46 Chibimaruko-chan 3, 40–46 Chihiro in Spirited Away (2001) 103 children’s; culture 210; drawings 2, 9–11, 14–21 Chijin no ai (A Fool’s Love) 40 Chorus magazine 183, 214 Codename Sailor V 35 COM magazine 200 comic book: club 127–128; Market 239; World, Taiwan (CWT) 109; World Convention 109 Comic Book Project (www. ComicBookProject.org) 21, 120 Comiket (Tokyo Comic Market) 109, 239 Comics Reporter 54 coming-of-age story 84 concepts of shojo i, 210 coolness versus cuteness 17–20 Cosplay 29 Count D from Pet Shop 114 cute 16; and realistic 19 CWT and FF 110–111, 115–116 Dame oyaji (Bad Dad) 45 “data-based” theory 70 “decame” (“big eyes”) 25 Diamond Comic Distributors 35 Disney film 38, 101 dojinshi 38, 112–113, 121, 135, 199–200, 205, 207, 240 dojin (fan artist) conventions 109 doseiaisha 69 Dragon Ball 83 Elliot Eisner’s 14 spatial categories 10 “emo” (the slang word for overemotional, sentimental indications) 87 eroticism 64 Eto, Jun 44 external: speech 12; voices or internal thoughts 13

fan culture 109 Fancy Frontier (FF) 109 fantasy 68, 102, 208, 221, 227 “fabricating community” 53 female: adult 94, artists in Southeast Asia 4, 77–78; BL 64; heroes 4; -oriented genre 64, 109; -oriented manga beyond Japan 78; mixed-race female artist 83; power 211 feminine 4 character 95, 117; style 180; subject 98 feminism 84; feminized subjects 87 feminist 140 flooded houses (lower class) and flying house (elite class)77 Flower comic 200 for Mrs. 51–53 fudanshi 69 Fujiko, Fujio 153 Fujimoto, Yukari 4, 32, 78, 135, 234 Fujiwarano Sai from Hikaru no Go 114 fujoshi (or BLfemale fans) 66, 68 Fukushima [the nuclear plant failure] 208–211 Furoku 240 Furuya, Mitsutoshi 45 gachimuchi (extremely muscular) 70 Garo magazine 215 gay 4, 99; (or “homo”) 66; manga [created by gay men] 66; porn manga comics 66 Gekkanshi 240 Gekiga 240 “gekiga” (graphic novel) style 169 gender differences between boys’ and girls’ drawings 2 “Genga’” *(“original manga dash”) 199, 203 genres of manga 9 girl–child 94 girl culture i girl manga; see shojo manga Girl’s power vii, 38 golden era of girls’ comics 51 Goodnow 9, 11 good old Japan 43 gothic 85, 92, 112 Gravett 112 graphic diary 81–82; Indonesia’s graphic diary genre, 82 graphic novel 35, 55, 191, 214 awardwinning American 82 “Gundam” or “Transformers” 17

Index  245 Hagio, Moto 1, 27–29, 51, 78, 140, 202, 205–212, 215, 220, 222–223, 228 Hakusensha 240 Hairston, Marc 101, 234 Hana to Yume 67, 191 Harries Cain from Earl Cain 114 Hayashi, Mariko 43 heroes/heroines 12, 117; stereotypical images of 21 Hello Kitty 29, 88–89, 93 Heterosexual: desires and orientation of Japanese women 64; male readers (fudanshi ) of BL 69 hikime-kagibana 24 Hollywood film Rain Man 55 “homo” 66 homophobic 64, 68 homosexual relationships 38 Horiguchi, Noriko J. 93 horror mystery 191 Howl’s Moving Castle 101 humor comics (comic books) 55 “hyper melodramatics” 54 Ichijo, Yukari 27, 182–189 ie (a traditional multigenerational household) 44 Ikeda, Riyoko 24, 27, 134, 228 “Iki” (“style” or “flair”) 139 Ikuhara, Kunihiko 3, 35–38 “imagined community” 53 International Journal of Comic Art 78 Interviews 5, 133–232 Influences: universal tendency and sociocultural influences 9 Ishida 68 Ishinomori, Shotaro 153, 161, 178, 204, 211, 220 Ishinomori Shotaro no Mangaka Nyumon (Shotaro Ishinomori’s Guide to Becoming a Manga Artist) 199, 222 Ito, Go 87, 90–91, 93 Iwadate, Mariko 27–29 Japanese: animation (anime) 16; children’s pictorial worlds 2; girls’ comics magazines 53; -inspired designs 125; nicknames 125; ­ non- 43; pop culture 2, 210; visual pop-culture 2 Japan Media Arts Festival 51 Japan Ministry of Education and Science 120

JB Comic Store 109 Jenkins 109 “jihei-sho” 56 Jiro and Nahoko from The Wind Rises 106–107 Jossei Zasshi; see women’s magazine or women’s manga Journey to East Java 80–81 June 198, 200 Kabuki 139 Kabul, Christiyani 79 Kan, Satoko 45 Karasik, Paul and Judy 54 kashihon [rental books] 146, 169, 191 “kawaii” (“cute”) 2, 23, 40, 45–46, 142; kawaii culture 23, 29–30, 36 Kawasaki City Museum 137 Kihara, Toshie 138, 140, 195 Kiki in Kiki’s Delivery Service (1989) 103 Kimura, Minori 140 Kinkyo Cyuihou (Gold Fish Warning), 35–36 “kirei” (“beautiful”) 142 Kodansha 146, 162, 205, 240; Manga Award 3, 40, 199; (shojo manga section) 40; USA 32–33 Konagai 194–195 kotatsu (small electric-heated table, which is commonly used in winter in Japan) 42 Kristeva 96 Kristevan abjection 95 Kumoda, Haruko 135, 139, 143 Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho 114 Kuramochi, Fusako 194, 213–218 Kuramochi, Isao 200 kyara 4, 87–99; human personality [kyarakutaa] 87; and character 89 kyarakutaa 87–99 Kyoto Manga Museum 199 Kyoto Seika University 34, 199 Lady’s Comic 240 LaMarre, Thomas 87 Lana from the television series Future Boy Conan (1978) 103 learning disabilities (LDs) 60 Lee, William 44 Lent, John 4, 78 Lewis, Reina 68 LGBT lifestyles 35 LGBT community 38–39

246 Index Lim, Cheng Tju 77, 235 Licca-chan 169 Liquid City 78–80 local and global perspectives 1 loli or lolicon 111 Lolita 95, 111 Lolita complex 111 love comedy 175, 180, 214, 228 love-oriented plotlines in shojo manga intriguing 121 Lowenfeld’s theory 14–15 Lunning, Frenchy 87, 235 Lunsing, Wim 66 Macaroni western 228 magical girls 3, 4, 101; Magical Witch Sally 101; Puella Magi Madoka Magica 101; magical girlfriend 101; magical girl genre 112; magical power 103 Magnificent 24 Group (24-nen gumi) 51, 54, 64, 137, 140, 206, 220–221, 240 Maki, Miyako 26, 153, 158, 168–174 Malaysian comics artist 83 male: -dominated society 104; homosexual fantasies 64; -male romance 61; -oriented genres 109 Mandarake 240 MANGA 50 manga (Japanese comics) and anime (animation) 9 manga 240; characters 21; columnist 134; culture 135; critic 5, 134; essay manga genre in Japan 82; expression 211; fandom 90; style 11, 21; School 241 Manga Daigaku 161–162, 170 Manga Hyogen-ron (Manga Express Theory); 134 Manga High 120, 123, 128–29 Manga!Manga!: The World of Japanese Comics 1 Manga Shonen 153, 162, 165 Manga Zasshi 12 mangaka (cartoonist); 134, 194, 206, 241 manken 241 Margaret magazine 149–150, 185, 190–191, 194–195, 197, 200, 213–214, 215 Marie Antoinette from The Rose of Versailles 112 Martin Luther King, Jr. High School (MLKHS) in New York City 120

Maruyama, Akira 162, 170 Marvel and DC 122 Masuda, Nozomi 24, 235 Masuyama, Norie 140, 202, 223 Matsumoto, Leiji (Akira) 152–159, 165, 169, 173 McLuhan 61 Medium Is the Massage (1967) 61 Mei from My Neighbor Totoro (1988) 102 Melody 134 Mickey Mouse 91, 93 Mimio 93 Miuchi, Suzue 26, 138, 182, 190–196, 215 Mizuno, Hideko 26, 160–167, 178, 185, 187, 224 Mizoguchi, Akiko 67 Millennial Monsters: Japanese Toys and the Global Imagination 33 Mimiko from the short films Panda Go Panda (1972) and Rainy Day Circus (1973) 102 mini komi (privately circulated booklet) CHOISIR 65 Miyadai 27–28, 88, 90 Miyadai’s model 28 Miyazaki, Hayao 4, 101 Miyazaki’s shojo 102 Ministry of Education and Science in Japan 11 MLKHS 120–128; club 121; comic book club 122–123; students 120–122 M/M Pro (Productions) 153 Modernity 87, 89 moe (pleasure) 70, 92, 111; chara [kyara]moe-elements 92; erokawaii-kei moe (sexualized moe characters) 111 monthly magazine 12 Moon Stick 37 Morning weekly magazine 231 Multiculturalism movement 9 Muraki Kazutaka from Yami no Matsuei 114 Mutsu, A-ko 27 Nakayoshi 36, 138, 187, 205–206 Nagaike, Kazumi 64, 235 Name 24 naming [drawing and filling in word bubbles] 149 Nanny 85 national art education curriculum 11

Index  247 Natsume, Fusanosuke 5, 12, 132–136 Naruto 33 Nausica of the Valley of Wind (1984) 104 New York New York 67 NHK 60 Nintendo computer game 17

Power 4; of Japanese visual pop culture 9; of shojo manga 2, 23–26 Power Rangers 34 Pretty Soldier Sailormoon 3 Princess Prince 97 Prough, Jennifer 53, 78 Putri, Sheila Rooswitha 80

ochanoma (Japanese-style living room) 42, 45 Odoru Ponpokorin (“Dancing Ponpokorin”) 40 “Oekaki Kyoshitsu” (“Manga School”) 198–199 Oizumi (salon) 206, 220–221, 223 Okada, Toshio 111 Okano. Reiko 226–232 Ogi, Fusami 4, 78 OLs [office ladies] 43 Omake 241 Onmyoji (The Yin-Yang Master) 226, 230 Opening Doors–Building Bridges program 127–128 Oshima, Yumiko 51, 138, 140, 206, 215 Osteen. Mark 55 otaku (a Japanese term for those with obsessive interests and often associated with anime/manga obsession) 111; third-generation otaku 111 otaku (obsessive): fandom 92; culture 92; moe 92 Otome Community 24 otometic stories 27 otome-chikku 45 Otomo, Katsuhiro 220 Otsuka, Eiji 29, 46

Queer 3, 64 quasi-personality 87, 93

perspective of the mother protagonist 51 Persepolis 82 Pikachu 16, 91 pictorial worlds 2, 9, 12–14 pictures, words (with or without bubbles), and frames (panels) 12 platform (art toy) 91–92 pokemon (poket monsters) 16, 34 Ponkotsu oyaji (Shabby Dad) 45 Ponyo 101 postcolonial discourse 68 Post-Magnificent 24 Gumi (group) 221 postmodern fashion 89

Ragawa, Marimo 67 Rakugo 135, 139 real-life girls 103 Rensai 241 Ribbon see Ribon Ribon (Ribbon) 3, 29, 40, 45, 148, 154, 183, 185–187 “rhizomes” 21 Ribon no Kishi (Princess Knight) 134 Rin Minmei from The Super Dimension Fortress Macross 112 Ritsumei University (International Language and Culture Research Center) 34 Robbins, Trina 4 Robbit (robotic rabbit) 77, 80 role of manga 5 romance-oriented “ladies’ comics” 50, 52 romantic comedy; see Love comedy (Love kome) Rooswitha Putri and Dwinita (Tita) Larasati 81 Rosalindo 13, 145 Rose of Versailles 24, 134 Rukawa Kaede from Slam Dunk 114 Run run o katte ouchini kaero (Buy Happiness and Go Home) 43 Sakura, Momoko 3, 40–46 Sailor-Moon! 3, 32–39, 101, 112; see also Pretty Soldier Sailormoon Bishojo Senshi Sailor Moon [Pretty Soldier Sailor Moon] 32–33 Sailor Moon sailors Uranus and Neptune (Haruka and Michiru) 38 Sanrio 142 Sasakibara 111 Sasaya, Nanaeko 140 Sato, Masaki 65 Sato, Shio 220–225

248 Index Satonaka, Machiko 26, 27–29, 175–181, 182, 199 Satrapi. Marjane 82 Scanlation 241 Schodt, Frederick 1 second-generation feminists 84 Seinenshi 241 Seiun Prize 198 self: -closure symptom 56; -identified gay male 66–70; -production and publishing 121 semantic system 4 semiotic: signs 134; signs of beauty 12; and Semantic Signs in shojo and shonen manga 12–14, 116 seme (top) or uke (bottom) role 69 Sen from Princess Mononoke (1997) 104 Seventeen 27 sexual fantasies 65 Shamoon, Deborah 78 Sheeta from Laputa: Castle in the Sky (1986) 103 Shimizu, Reiko 134 Shogakukan 146, 205, 241 Shogakukan Award 161, 172, 198 Shogyoshi 241 Shojo: character 4, 87, 102; conscious of 193; is a state of mind, not a function of age 105; icon 88; of Japanese anime and manga 88; mangaka (graphic novelists) 5, 140, 210; roles in film 4; and shojo manga 2; zassi’s (girls’ magazines’) 12, 54 Shojo (Girls) 154, 158, 173 Shojo Beat 241 Shojo Book (Girls Book) 148 Shojo Club (Kodansha publications) 26, 154, 160–162, 170, 179 Shojo Comic 198, 206, 220 Shojo Friend 26 shojo kyara 95 shojo manga (girl’s comics) 1, 16, 135, 154, 158, 203, 206, 210–211, 218, 224, 241; new style of 211; semiotic characteristics of 21; technique 28; postwar shojo manga (girls’ comics) 78; power and influence 1 Shojo Manga! Girls’ Power! i, 5, 30, 142, 174 shojo manga magazines 2, 23–24, 26, 45, 134 Shonen (Boys) 185, 187; -ai 241; manga/anime 16, 26, 114, 135, 139, 153, 241; -shi 241

Shosetsu Junior (Novels for Juniors) 200 Shueisha 146, 242 Shukanshi 242 science fiction 208–209, 221, 224 Singlish 77, 80 Sophie from Howl’s Moving Castle (2004) 104 “spokon” (“sport and spirit”), 27 Snow Queen (original titled Frozen) 38 Southeast Asian Comics 78 Spirited Away 101 Steinberg, Marc 91 Studio Ghibli 101 Subaru Sumeragi from Tokyo Babylon 114 Supergirl and Wonder Woman 35 superhero comics 50 superflattened 93 Superman 124, 211 Suzuki, Shige (CJ) 50, 236 Tabuchi, Yumiko 27 Tachikake, Hideko 27 tadpole man 14–15 Takemiya, Keiko 51, 78, 140, 197–204, 206, 215, 223 Takeshita, Yumeji 24–26 Takeuchi, Naoko 3, 33 Taiwan 5; anime/manga fan culture 109; manga fan culture 109; anime/ manga fandom 114–117; popular culture, 113–114 Takahashi, Makoto 96 Takarazuka 88; stars 93; theater 185 Taniguchi, Tomoko 97 Tanizaki, Junichiro 40 tankobon (single-story book)147, 176, 242 teenagers 5 Tezuka, Osamu 78, 87, 93, 134, 144–146, 158, 161, 165, 191, 197, 207, 211; award 206; style of expression 167 Tezuka Osamu Culture Special Prize 134 Tezuka Is Dead (2005), 87 Tobe, Keiko 3, 50–61 Toei Animation Company 3 tojisha (self-identified gays) 66 Tokiwaso 166; group and Taiyokan group 173 Toku, Masami 1, 9, 236 Tokyo Comic Market 191

Index  249 Tokyo Pop 203 traditional girl-captured-by-villainsand-rescued-by-boy motif 103 Train Heartnet from Black Cat 114 transnational, transgendered cultural symbol 4 T. R. Reid 40 Tsuchida, Yoshiko 138 Tsuchiya Dollase, Hiromi 40, 234 Tsukino Usagi from Sailor Moon 112 24 Hour Comics Day challenge 82, 84–85 U•Mia 161, 178 Uchiyama, Yasuji 165 Ueda, Toshiko 134 Uno, Akira 24–25 Usagi (literally “Rabbit”) 36 universality and cultural specificity, 9–11, 14–21 visual: composition (space) and expressions (figures) 2, 9; culture 2; pop-culture 11, 14; and textual communication 59 Viz Media 222 Washington Post 40 Watanabe, Masako 26, 144–151, 201 Weekly Margaret 26 Wilson 21

With the Light 50–61 Women: cartoonists 78; manga (josei manga) 3, 50; magazine Hanako 43; true desires (hone) 43; comic artists in Southeast Asia 78 World War II 11, 26, 153 yaoi 66, 99, 242 yaoi manga 66 Yaoi Ronso (Yaoi Dispute) 65 yokubo (desires) 44 Yamada, Mineko 140 Yamada, Tomoko 5, 137–143 Yamagishi, Ryoko 27, 51, 134, 140, 165, 202, 204, 206 Yamaguchi, Yuko 29 Yomikiri 242 Yomoto 12 Yanase, Takashi 24 Yew, Lee Kuan 77 Yamamoto, Junya 201 Yamato, Waki 202 Yonezawa, Yoshihiro 26, 137; Memorial Library of Manga and Subcultures, Meiji University, Japan 137 Yoshinaga, Fumi 139 Youzen from Hōshin Engi 114 Yuki Eiri from Gravitation 114 Yumemakura, Baku 226 Zokango 242