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Twin Spica
Sep. 28th, 2009 08:48 amI know I never post about manga anymore, but a few things at Manga Blog caught my eye. Among the new licenses announced at NYAF 09 was Twin Spica, which has been picked up by Vertical (yay Vertical's discriminating taste). I've quietly longed to get a chance to read Twin Spica ever since the abrupt non-ending of the anime, lo those many years ago. (Twin Spica has one of the absolute worst non-endings I've ever seen, seriously. I'm 99% positive it was a case of the funding getting cancelled or someone getting fired or something, but it was so poorly done, I still resent it.) I'm so psyched! I never thought anybody would pick this one up, but the market for manga in the US has really changed in the last six years, and the enduring critical/cult popularity of Yotsuba& is a pretty good indicator that there is an audience for this brand of seinen in the States (i.e. smart, tasteful, character-driven drama and/or humor; slice-of-life).
I wish I could post a link to the pretty scan of a page someone made, many years ago, to show what the artwork was like, but the blog I saw it on is long gone, alas. But there's a scan of the first cover image on its Wikipedia page, here. Yes, yes, Asumi is too short to be an astronaut, but that's sort of the point. She's going to do it anyway, dammit, because her lifelong dream, first articulated in early childhood, is to be a rocket driver!
There's a ghost of a guy with a lion's head who appears to Asumi and gives her advice and comforts her on family trauma--I don't really remember what the trauma was, just that she has one; a dead parent, I think), and counsels her on becoming an astronaut. And just plays with her, keeps her company. It reminds me a little bit of Calvin and Hobbes, although Asumi is much nicer than Calvin.
So anyway, Twin Spica is pretty much, Asumi wants to become an astronaut, hangs out with her maybe-not-imaginary friend Lion-san, works her way into the Tokyo Space Academy, deals with new student drama, makes friends, begins training to become an astronaut, la la la, I don't know what happens much after that, because that's where the anime dropped it, and at least at the time, no one was scanlating the manga. It's all very sweet, and low-key, very slice-of-life, but very serious, too. Asumi's as nice as they come, but she really means it about becoming an astronaut. It's not just a pipe dream, or a vague fantasy, and her level of commitment and effort in the service of her goal felt very inspirational to me. I love a good career goal, dammit.
Twin Spica the anime was made at the same time as Planetes (I watched them simultaneously--oh, what a lovely year 2003 was for me in terms of introducing me to new kinds of anime); I just now learned from the Wikipedia page that they shared a production staff. Badass. I bet that would save on a lot of research time--once you've gone to all the trouble of figuring out how to portray the finicky details of astronaut training and stuff, I bet it's nice to be able to use it again.
I also noticed there's another Kaori Yuki license by VIZ (Grand Guignol Orchestra); that should thrill large portions of my flist.
I wish I could post a link to the pretty scan of a page someone made, many years ago, to show what the artwork was like, but the blog I saw it on is long gone, alas. But there's a scan of the first cover image on its Wikipedia page, here. Yes, yes, Asumi is too short to be an astronaut, but that's sort of the point. She's going to do it anyway, dammit, because her lifelong dream, first articulated in early childhood, is to be a rocket driver!
There's a ghost of a guy with a lion's head who appears to Asumi and gives her advice and comforts her on family trauma--I don't really remember what the trauma was, just that she has one; a dead parent, I think), and counsels her on becoming an astronaut. And just plays with her, keeps her company. It reminds me a little bit of Calvin and Hobbes, although Asumi is much nicer than Calvin.
So anyway, Twin Spica is pretty much, Asumi wants to become an astronaut, hangs out with her maybe-not-imaginary friend Lion-san, works her way into the Tokyo Space Academy, deals with new student drama, makes friends, begins training to become an astronaut, la la la, I don't know what happens much after that, because that's where the anime dropped it, and at least at the time, no one was scanlating the manga. It's all very sweet, and low-key, very slice-of-life, but very serious, too. Asumi's as nice as they come, but she really means it about becoming an astronaut. It's not just a pipe dream, or a vague fantasy, and her level of commitment and effort in the service of her goal felt very inspirational to me. I love a good career goal, dammit.
Twin Spica the anime was made at the same time as Planetes (I watched them simultaneously--oh, what a lovely year 2003 was for me in terms of introducing me to new kinds of anime); I just now learned from the Wikipedia page that they shared a production staff. Badass. I bet that would save on a lot of research time--once you've gone to all the trouble of figuring out how to portray the finicky details of astronaut training and stuff, I bet it's nice to be able to use it again.
I also noticed there's another Kaori Yuki license by VIZ (Grand Guignol Orchestra); that should thrill large portions of my flist.
Bujold, Sayers, genre fiction
Aug. 25th, 2009 03:54 pmOn what originally began as a vaguely related note to the Mihara post below:
I've been rereading Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan books lately--I've read them so many times before, but they continue to reward immensely; as I grow older and wiser, I find them just as strong, just as thoughtful. There is nothing here I expect to outgrow. I continue to love Bujold's humanism, and now better appreciate that her science fiction speculates as well as entertains; she's just from the social science fiction tradition, rather than the hard science fiction tradition. More Ursula Le Guin than Isaac Asimov.
I never really noticed how good she is at straddling genres--when I was a kid, I read mainly science fiction and fantasy, and had little experience with other genres; as an adult, I've spent enormous amounts of time reading romance and mystery novels. In the afterword to the omnibus edition of Shards of Honor and Barrayar titled Cordelia's Honor, which I am borrowing to read for the first time, Bujold talks about the genesis of those two books--I'd never realized how much of Barrayar she had plotted out before Shards was ever published--and describes Shards as being a romance, and it clicked for me for the first time. Of course it's a romance! It's certainly as much a romance as a science fiction novel--and a damned compelling romance, too. It's a hugely romantic fantasy to fall in love with someone in a life-changing way, to love them enough to want to make huge sacrifices for them, and have an unfaltering, loving, romantic relationship with that person for the rest of your lives. Aral and Cordelia's romance is so compelling and convincing--and so understated, almost but not quite matter-of-fact--that I never quite thought about the fact that the book itself is a novel about romance as well as a science fiction novel. Would I have twigged to that if I'd read more romances prior to reading Bujold, I wonder? I should ask my mother...in her youth (long before Bujold began publishing), she apparently went through a period of reading nothing but romances before she switched over to reading mainly mystery, science fiction, and fantasy. Lots of practice reading those genres.
I've seen some interesting comments from Bujold on genre fiction--she said that romances are fantasies of love, and murder mysteries are fantasies of justice, and was talking about what science fiction would be a fantasy of--agency, maybe? I'm probably muddling it all up; it was an interesting interview, but I don't remember where I read it. Anyway, when I read Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey books for the first time, particularly Murder Must Advertise, I realized what a debt Bujold's character of the brilliant Lord Miles Vorkosigan owes to the character of the brilliant Lord Peter Wimsey, from the high-strung-though-entertaining-personality and the profound personal damage, right down to the multiple identities. Most of Miles' stories are mysteries, even--Mountains of Mourning, The Vor Game, Cetaganda, Brothers in Arms, Memory, Komarr, Diplomatic Immunity--and it's not his story, but also Ethan of Athos is a mystery, and then Mark and Ivan each do some detecting in Mirror Dance and in A Civil Campaign, respectively. These stories are all more than just mysteries; they're character portraits, social commentaries, speculations about the nature of humanity and life and death and gender in a world of cloning, cryogenic revival, sophisticated genetic engineering, life-extension technology, and advanced reproductive technology. But a mystery is such a pleasurable way to tell a story, and makes such a wonderful vehicle for everything else Bujold wants to write about. No wonder she's written so many of them. Her characters tend to be extremely intelligent; how better to keep them within sight of the reader than to deny them information, and let us all find out at the same time? Intelligent Cordelia, in her books, is baffled and bemused by unfamiliar environments and alien social values, but her equally intelligent son Miles--Miles, who is, by virtue of his hybrid upbringing, more worldly than his mother was in her books--is baffled by circumstantial mysteries and plots which he is, for a satisfyingly complex and convincing variety of reasons, inevitably driven to solve.
(I haven't read Bujold's fantasy novels as many times over, but I seem to recall that mystery was a big element in A Paladin of Souls as well. Not Curse of Chalion, so much, and I can't remember about the one after Paladin. Or The Spirit Ring. Or the recent romance quartet.)
I have seen Sayers criticized as a mystery writer for her mystery plots not being something enough--people regularly accuse mystery writers, including all the greats, of cheating if they don't give the reader every single vital element with which to solve the mystery themselves. I suppose that's one way to approach the genre, but it's definitely not mine. (And, if you look into the history of the mystery genre, kind of dumb, since the seminal mystery writers were not remotely concerned with giving the readers sufficient clues with which to solve the puzzle. Actually, I think that's sort of an aberration in the field. It's fine to enjoy that, I suppose, but critiquing any given mystery writer for not doing something most mystery writers don't do consistently seems a little unreasonable.) I enjoy puzzle-solving enormously, but I expect more and different things from a novel than a puzzle. It's a bit like complaining that crossword puzzles are cheating, because unlike sudoku, they require more from the puzzle-solver than the exercise of pure logic; crossword puzzles require external knowledge (and more verbal acuity). But that's not cheating, it's simply being a different kind of thing, a thing which I assure you is also enormously fun, for the people that like it. Mystery novels contain more than just puzzles. Can contain, should contain.
Anyway, the brilliance of Sayers (and Bujold) lies not in the cunning nature of her plots (the plots are fine), but in the rich depths of her characterization, all the questions she asks about more than just the who and how of a mystery. I enjoy genre tropes--the genre tropes of mysteries and romance and science fiction, at least--but greatly appreciate the genre writer who can--I don't want to say, transcend genre--the writer who can use genre and genre tropes to tell a story that is transcendent. Bujold and Sayers both do that.
(And, as evidenced by my love also of Rex Stout and Georgette Heyer, I also greatly appreciate a writer who, using both genre tropes and a personal formula, consistently produces work that, though not transcendent, is absolutely perfect and brilliant within its chosen structural limits. I do put high value on solidly crafted entertainment. It's not easy to do!)
I've been rereading Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan books lately--I've read them so many times before, but they continue to reward immensely; as I grow older and wiser, I find them just as strong, just as thoughtful. There is nothing here I expect to outgrow. I continue to love Bujold's humanism, and now better appreciate that her science fiction speculates as well as entertains; she's just from the social science fiction tradition, rather than the hard science fiction tradition. More Ursula Le Guin than Isaac Asimov.
I never really noticed how good she is at straddling genres--when I was a kid, I read mainly science fiction and fantasy, and had little experience with other genres; as an adult, I've spent enormous amounts of time reading romance and mystery novels. In the afterword to the omnibus edition of Shards of Honor and Barrayar titled Cordelia's Honor, which I am borrowing to read for the first time, Bujold talks about the genesis of those two books--I'd never realized how much of Barrayar she had plotted out before Shards was ever published--and describes Shards as being a romance, and it clicked for me for the first time. Of course it's a romance! It's certainly as much a romance as a science fiction novel--and a damned compelling romance, too. It's a hugely romantic fantasy to fall in love with someone in a life-changing way, to love them enough to want to make huge sacrifices for them, and have an unfaltering, loving, romantic relationship with that person for the rest of your lives. Aral and Cordelia's romance is so compelling and convincing--and so understated, almost but not quite matter-of-fact--that I never quite thought about the fact that the book itself is a novel about romance as well as a science fiction novel. Would I have twigged to that if I'd read more romances prior to reading Bujold, I wonder? I should ask my mother...in her youth (long before Bujold began publishing), she apparently went through a period of reading nothing but romances before she switched over to reading mainly mystery, science fiction, and fantasy. Lots of practice reading those genres.
I've seen some interesting comments from Bujold on genre fiction--she said that romances are fantasies of love, and murder mysteries are fantasies of justice, and was talking about what science fiction would be a fantasy of--agency, maybe? I'm probably muddling it all up; it was an interesting interview, but I don't remember where I read it. Anyway, when I read Dorothy Sayers' Lord Peter Wimsey books for the first time, particularly Murder Must Advertise, I realized what a debt Bujold's character of the brilliant Lord Miles Vorkosigan owes to the character of the brilliant Lord Peter Wimsey, from the high-strung-though-entertaining-personality and the profound personal damage, right down to the multiple identities. Most of Miles' stories are mysteries, even--Mountains of Mourning, The Vor Game, Cetaganda, Brothers in Arms, Memory, Komarr, Diplomatic Immunity--and it's not his story, but also Ethan of Athos is a mystery, and then Mark and Ivan each do some detecting in Mirror Dance and in A Civil Campaign, respectively. These stories are all more than just mysteries; they're character portraits, social commentaries, speculations about the nature of humanity and life and death and gender in a world of cloning, cryogenic revival, sophisticated genetic engineering, life-extension technology, and advanced reproductive technology. But a mystery is such a pleasurable way to tell a story, and makes such a wonderful vehicle for everything else Bujold wants to write about. No wonder she's written so many of them. Her characters tend to be extremely intelligent; how better to keep them within sight of the reader than to deny them information, and let us all find out at the same time? Intelligent Cordelia, in her books, is baffled and bemused by unfamiliar environments and alien social values, but her equally intelligent son Miles--Miles, who is, by virtue of his hybrid upbringing, more worldly than his mother was in her books--is baffled by circumstantial mysteries and plots which he is, for a satisfyingly complex and convincing variety of reasons, inevitably driven to solve.
(I haven't read Bujold's fantasy novels as many times over, but I seem to recall that mystery was a big element in A Paladin of Souls as well. Not Curse of Chalion, so much, and I can't remember about the one after Paladin. Or The Spirit Ring. Or the recent romance quartet.)
I have seen Sayers criticized as a mystery writer for her mystery plots not being something enough--people regularly accuse mystery writers, including all the greats, of cheating if they don't give the reader every single vital element with which to solve the mystery themselves. I suppose that's one way to approach the genre, but it's definitely not mine. (And, if you look into the history of the mystery genre, kind of dumb, since the seminal mystery writers were not remotely concerned with giving the readers sufficient clues with which to solve the puzzle. Actually, I think that's sort of an aberration in the field. It's fine to enjoy that, I suppose, but critiquing any given mystery writer for not doing something most mystery writers don't do consistently seems a little unreasonable.) I enjoy puzzle-solving enormously, but I expect more and different things from a novel than a puzzle. It's a bit like complaining that crossword puzzles are cheating, because unlike sudoku, they require more from the puzzle-solver than the exercise of pure logic; crossword puzzles require external knowledge (and more verbal acuity). But that's not cheating, it's simply being a different kind of thing, a thing which I assure you is also enormously fun, for the people that like it. Mystery novels contain more than just puzzles. Can contain, should contain.
Anyway, the brilliance of Sayers (and Bujold) lies not in the cunning nature of her plots (the plots are fine), but in the rich depths of her characterization, all the questions she asks about more than just the who and how of a mystery. I enjoy genre tropes--the genre tropes of mysteries and romance and science fiction, at least--but greatly appreciate the genre writer who can--I don't want to say, transcend genre--the writer who can use genre and genre tropes to tell a story that is transcendent. Bujold and Sayers both do that.
(And, as evidenced by my love also of Rex Stout and Georgette Heyer, I also greatly appreciate a writer who, using both genre tropes and a personal formula, consistently produces work that, though not transcendent, is absolutely perfect and brilliant within its chosen structural limits. I do put high value on solidly crafted entertainment. It's not easy to do!)
