Archive for the Yuri Manga Category


Run Away With Me Girl, Volume 3

May 22nd, 2024

Two women in wedding dresses laugh happily holding a colorful bouquetGuest Review by Matt Rolf

Having run away with high school friend Makimura as an adult in Volume 2, Midori wants to keep running in Run Away with Me Girl, Volume 3. Fortunately for her and for the reader, we are finally at a point in this series where Midori has to make a clear decision about what she’s going to do. Battan graciously provides some clarity and closure to this interesting series, but don’t expect much more than that in this final volume.

The first volume of this series was rocky and dealt with challenging relationship questions; the second volume gave the characters space on an island away from the ordinary to try and answer those questions. The third volume, by comparison, is something of a letdown. The main plot point gets wrapped up, but a lot of the hard issues raised by the first two volumes get swept under the rug.

What is sexual orientation? How does that square with societal expectations and our own desire? How do we reconcile our day-to-day responsibilities when they may not be compatible with our core values? What if we push our core values away and make toxic choices in an attempt to meet those responsibilities? What does it mean to commit to someone? And what does it mean to unwind one’s life after having committed? All of these questions are raised implicitly or explicitly by the first two books. While these are admittedly hard questions without easy answers, the final payoff comes without addressing them fully. Maki and Midori’s epilogue is fine, if a bit too obvious. Komari’s epilogue is annoying, bordering on infuriating to this reviewer.

Perhaps, like Midori through most of this work, we’re not supposed to think too hard about the answers to those questions. Maybe the answers are just matters of the heart. Even so, I think the characters deserved a more thorough reckoning with the choices that they made. Maybe once Battan has some distance to this story they will reconsider and give us another volume.

The artwork is still good, but the impact is less than the first two volumes. Battan gives the culmination of the book the rich attention it deserves. Outside of that, the drawings don’t hit that hard.

Finally, this book is yuri. Exhausting, aggravating, and annoying, but in the end, yuri: the exploration of a semi-toxic relationship between women that concludes with as little character growth as possible. And that, if nothing else, will make you think.

Final Verdict: A disappointing ending to a challenging series.
Series Verdict: Worth reading and thinking about.

Published by Kodansha Comics, with translation by Kevin Steinbach and lettering by Jennifer Skarupa.

Ratings

Art – 8
Story 5 – This is fine.
Characters – 7 I wouldn’t be let down if I hadn’t had any expectations.
Service – 5 Tease me, please me, no one needs to know. -Scorpions
Yuri – 8
Overall – 5 for this volume, 7 for Vol 1-3 inclusive.





Kitanhana Monogatari (綺譚花物語)

May 16th, 2024

3 f/f couples playing on a painted flowered background representing 3 of the 4 stories in the collection.A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of reviewing a book on Yuri history in Taiwan by Baihe novelist 楊雙子 Yáng Shuāngzǐ. Today I am reviewing the Yuri manga written by Yang and illustrated by 星期一回收日​, Monday Recover. Originally published in Chinese, this book has also been translated into Japanese through a crowdfunding effort. Kitanhana Monogatari (綺譚花物語) is a speculative historical fiction and a unique Yuri work.

Each story combines a dual time frame Taisho period Taiwan and the modern day, through a supernatural element of some kind, and the deep intimacy of two women, that manifests in multiple ways.

In the first story “Chijou nite Eien ni” Eiko’s ancestor, who died at about the age she currently is, is about to be married off in a Ghost Marriage, to an elderly male relative. She’s no more happy about it than Eiko is at the prospect of marrying in the mortal realm.

“Otome no Inori,” was probably my favorite story and also the very much most disturbing. Li Fu and Mari are close friends, when Mari take the fallen antler of a water deer. Instead of returning it, she takes it home and slowly, is transformed. Water pools at her feet all the time, her skin streams with moisture, and eventually she begins to grow antlers. She falls ino a stupo and Li Fu must find out how to return her friend’s humanity.

“Koyonaki Tori” is a long, nuanced tale of, Yan Li, the only daughter of the Lin Family. Her father’s concubine, Lan Ying, tries desperately to free her from the family curse because she is in love with Li, but also to free herself.

And the final story “Wúfǎ Xíngróng De ōngxī~Yumenokaiyoiji~” is a modern day romp between a researcher and a myseterious woman who seems to know every historical and mysterious place in Taichung.

I loved the overarching feel of not-quite-this-world-ness about the stories. Each one had a different tone, but most of them also have an underlying darkness that has to be addressed, whether it is because of the kinds of lives women were expect to live, or the liied option they were givens, or some other piece of the story.  As for the Yuri, whether you will view a ghost and her many-times granddaughter as Yuri, or not, the couples here are deeply intimate and love of several kinds apply.

The art, too, adds layer of complexity and beauty to each of the stories. For a while, I believed that the stories must have all had different artists, as the styles differ considerably, but, no. Incredible artistic work by an artist new to me.

Ratings:

Stories – 8
Art  – 9
Characters  – 9
Service – No, but also sometimes yes.
Yuri – Complicated to score, because the relationships differ, but let’s go 8 anyway

Overall  – 9

Kitanhana Mongagatari is a nuanced and unique look at Yuri, Taiwanese history and supernatural beliefs all in one neat little package. Highly recommended.

If you’d like to read samples of the stories, they are available in Chinese on CCC Webcomics.

 

 

 





Silakbo 2 Anthology, Guest Review by Miguel Adarlo

May 15th, 2024

Two women with dark, wind-blown hair hold hands while moving through a maelstrom of color.Post-publishing Addendum: Kalabaw Studios, as we know it, is defunct due to the actions of its former editor-in-chief. The editor-in-chief abused the artists working under them, and we cannot, in good conscience, recommend picking up Silakbo or Silakbo 2 through Shopee or any other channels Kalabaw Studios operated. You can find out more about the situation here. Instead, please support the artists directly. They are trying to reclaim ownership of Silakbo, but until then, do not buy Silakbo or Silakbo 2. Support other Filipino yuri/GL initiatives as well, such as the upcoming anthology Gigil, to be released at Komiket Pride on June 7.

Hello, this is Miguel Adarlo, an overachieving potato on Discord. I wanted to share a recent yuri anthology released in the Philippines. I shared it over at the Okazu Discord, and then I was allowed to share it with the wider world over Okazu. So, thank you, Okazu and the rest of the Okazu Discord!

Silakbo 2 (silakbo – frenzy) is a yuri/women-loving-women anthology published by Kalabaw Studios in March 2024. Edited by Logihy, Silakbo 2 contains ten one-shot girls’ love stories in English by queer Filipino artists from all over the country. The previous Silakbo followed this format as well.

As Logihy explains in her Editor’s Note, the theme for this anthology is magic realism, where “ordinary moments become extraordinary” and reality bends to celebrate sapphic love. This theme shines through not only in the stories contained within, but also in the art. Each artist brings their unique voice to the anthology, with styles ranging from soft, painted colors to clear, defined linework. Printed in full color on glossy paper, the anthology further accentuates the artwork, making the colors vibrant.

Beyond the magic realism theme, another powerful undercurrent emerges – kindness. Kindness of all kinds, in this case, that can be considered radical with how it can be applied, as well as who applies it.

The stories are then as follows. Spoilers abound, but as with many anthologies, I think the plot is only part of the experience of reading these stories: 

“Touring Back to You” by Hirayel is about Bea traveling to Negros Occidental on a trip of some sort. There, she meets their tour guide, Catalina, who seems familiar to Bea. What follows is then a tour through Negros, passing by places such as Mt. Kanloan, and the Burgos Public Market, as Catalina and Bea bond over local snacks. As they reach the end of their trip at Aguisan Pantalan, revelations are made. It turns out, Catalina was in a deep and loving relationship with Bea, but due to a mishap in her memory alchemy, Bea forgot about her. With the trip, Catalina has a chance to redeem herself and return Bea’s memories, and hopefully, her relationship with Bea. Catalina’s plan worked, but it worked more than she imagined. 

While the central conflict of the story might be foreseeable – the amnesia trope is a familiar one – the sweetness of Touring Back to You lies in its execution. The art, as mentioned earlier, plays a significant role. The idyllic landscapes and bustling markets of Negros become more than just backdrops; they transform into catalysts for Bea’s memory retrieval. Each shared glance at Mt. Kanloan, each bite of a local delicacy from the Burgos Public Market, could potentially be a missing puzzle piece for Bea. This creates a beautiful tension for the reader – we, alongside Catalina, wait with bated breath for a spark of recognition to flicker in Bea’s eyes. The telegraphed plot point of Bea’s amnesia, therefore, becomes a source of emotional investment, rather than a detriment to the story.

“Homemaker” by Eleidoscope follows Renata’s mother, who’s having a hard time connecting to her daughter. Her daughter wants to leave the nest and is growing ever further distant from her mom. One of Renata’s mom’s friends was speculating that Renata has a boyfriend, but Renata’s mom knows that her daughter doesn’t have a boyfriend, but a girlfriend. Whatever the reason is, Renata’s mom just wants to be a part of her daughter’s life. A chance encounter in the house brought about by a broken spoon led to a chain of events that ended with the family closer together, from Renata’s mom teaching Renata how to cook the family’s arroz caldo (rice broth – think rice porridge with chicken,) to even meeting Renata’s girlfriend, Jackie, and accepting her into the family. 

The “cute and whimsical” art style in Homemaker isn’t just aesthetically pleasing; it serves a deeper purpose. The hand-painted quality imbues the comic with a sense of warmth and personal touch, reflecting the love and support within Renata’s family. This is further emphasized by the focus on everyday domestic scenes – the kitchen where they cook arroz caldo, or simply the house they share in all its pastel colors. Eleidoscope’s “hugot” (deep emotional experience) aligns perfectly with this visual storytelling. Their depiction of “being queer at home, and having the safe space to be known and to be true to myself” resonates through the art. There was a sticker made by Eleidoscope that came with Silakbo 2 that said, “Nanay approved kabadingan” (mom approved gayness/queerness). This sticker encapsulates the message this story wants to tell, that of acceptance by one’s family.

“Alas tres” (Three O’clock) by Denimcatfish and Samantingsodium is about Nat and the world she sees in the mirror. Nat feels listless as she moves into a new home with a strange mirror inside. As the clock strikes three, however, a girl appears in the mirror named Maya. For the next hour, Nat and Maya converse with each other, not with spoken language, but with drawings and whatever she can write down on paper. This continues throughout, and Nat doesn’t feel as listless anymore. She looks forward to the time she spends with Maya. One day, though, Maya motions to Nat to try something else. They put their hands together on the mirror, and then both are whisked away to an unknown space. In this unknown space, they then can truly meet and feel each other, with no mirror blocking them. 

The art style in Alas tres goes beyond simply being visually appealing, as the use of distinct colors plays a critical role in depicting the separation between Nat’s world and the world behind the mirror. While Maya’s world might not be as vibrantly colored as one might expect for a fantasy realm, it uses a different color palette compared to Nat’s. The muted blue colors in Nat’s world could symbolize her initial listlessness, while the contrasting orange tones in Maya’s world represent a different kind of energy or atmosphere from Nat’s world. This distinction emphasizes the separation between their realities. A clear shift occurs during their transition into the unknown space – the colors change and bloom as they break free of the mirror’s barrier and enter the unknown space together. The final burst of color, where both Nat’s blue and Maya’s orange meld together to form a bright, saturated picture, signifies the culmination of their desire for connection, a powerful emotional payoff for the reader who has accompanied them on this journey.

“Sleep Talk” by Zepra deals with AJ and her dreams. Within her dreams, she is the master of her realm, being able to control all aspects of it. That is, until one day, her classmate Ela (short for Mikaela) appears. The day after, AJ meets Ela at school and confirms that Ela was visiting AJ’s dreams. From there on, in AJ’s dream world, they go on adventures together, but in the real world, they don’t interact as much, though they do become targets of gossip. AJ is content for their status quo to continue, but one night, Ela decides to confess something to AJ, but her words blur out as AJ falls out of her dream. The point-of-view then switches to Ela. In the real world at school, since AJ fell out of her dream, AJ has been avoiding her, at least until she finds a note in her bag. The note’s from AJ, and it’s telling Ela to meet her at 3 pm over at the roof deck. There, it turns out AJ did hear what Ela said and is ready to give her response. 

As Zepra mentions in the author’s note, Sleep Talk explores the concept of finding comfort in a small, self-contained world. AJ’s dream realm represents this perfectly. Here, she’s the architect of her reality, free from anxieties and insecurities. However, the story goes beyond simply depicting a comfortable dream world, as Zepra emphasizes the importance of venturing out of this safe space. The note AJ leaves for Ela signifies this crucial step. It takes courage to bridge the gap between the dream world, where everything is under control, and the real world, where things are uncertain. The details in the story, from the characters’ body language to their internal thoughts, showcase the emotional journey of taking this leap. We see the hesitation in AJ’s initial avoidance, but also the bravery it takes for her to reach out again. Sleep Talk, even as a one-shot, leaves a lasting impression by portraying this relatable human experience – the comfort of a self-contained world and the courage required to step outside of it.

Cover images for the 10 stories included in the Silakbo2 anthology

“Kismet in My Mind” (art by Hasukeii and story by Ravenndei) centers on Carol. Carol could hear the thoughts of the people around her since childhood, and she got into trouble with one of her friends because of it. She thus keeps her ability to herself, but this one particular day, on the train she’s on, she hears the thoughts of one girl. This girl is checking Carol out, and she thinks Carol is “cute and pretty,” and she’s having some sort of screaming fit in her mind. It turns out, though, that both she and Carol are headed to the same place for the same function, a social event for women-loving women at a bar in Kamuning. There, Carol still can hear the girl’s (whose name was revealed to be Kit) thoughts. How was it that they were on the same train and they were going to the same event? A further game by the events’ organizers then pairs them up, where Kit’s thoughts go into overdrive, thinking that Carol’s prettier up-close, how she hopes she doesn’t look weird, and how much she wants to kiss Carol. Carol happens to hear all those thoughts and decides to finally answer Kit’s thoughts. 

Kismet in My Mind offers a delightful meet-cute at its core, but the story’s true depth lies in its exploration of identity and connection. Carol’s ability to hear thoughts acts as a powerful allegory for the queer experience. Just as Carol feels ostracized for being different, LGBTQ+ individuals can often experience isolation or misunderstanding. However, the story flips this concept on its head. Carol’s ability, instead of being a burden, transforms into a bridge that connects her to Kit, another woman who shares her identity. The art by Hasukeii beautifully complements this theme: The character designs, with their soft lines and expressive features, portray a sense of gentle vulnerability, mirroring Carol’s initial hesitation to embrace her ability. When Kit enters the picture, the art style subtly shifts. Kit’s wide eyes, reminiscent of other yuri artists, depict a mix of excitement and nervousness, perfectly capturing the blossoming feelings between the two characters. This visual language reinforces the story’s message – that queerness is not something to be feared, but a unique quality that can foster connection and belonging within a supportive community, as symbolized by the social event depicted in the story. The “sana all” (”wishing it were true for everyone, especially myself”) sentiment that arises from one of the comments in the story takes on a new dimension – it’s not just about the romantic connection, but also about the joy of finding acceptance and love for who you are, a truth echoed in the tender and hopeful mood of the artwork.

“Paruparong Bukid” (Butterfly from the Field, it’s a folk song) by Prinsomnia features a florist named Violet. At a funeral, she happens to meet a girl named Jeanne. Jeanne so happens to be crying literal butterflies. Violet stays with Jeanne and comforts her until Jeanne calms down. She then offers Jeanne a look at her flowers. Jeanne accepts and grows to have a relationship with Violet. To Jeanne, Violet was the only person to call the butterflies she makes beautiful. With Violet, Jeanne feels safe. This would be a contrast to her parents, who call her a pervert, call her butterflies “disgusting,” and generally denigrate her existence, under the pretense of securing a better future for her. This brings Jeanne to tears, enough that she decides to run away. She appears to run to Violet, with whom she frolics in a field with butterflies. 

The brilliance of Paruparong Bukid lies in its masterful use of ambiguity. The story is a tapestry woven with unanswered questions, each one inviting the reader to participate in its creation. The very first scene – a funeral – throws us into the heart of Jeanne’s emotional turmoil. Whose funeral is it? Was it a loved one, deepening her despair, or a distant relative, emphasizing her isolation within her family? This ambiguity allows us to connect with the story on a personal level, inserting our own experiences into the gaps. Prinsomnia’s core message of “radical love and kindness” remains the brightest thread in this tapestry. Violet’s love and acceptance of Jeanne’s butterfly tears, a symbol of her pain and ostracization, stands in stark contrast to the judgment Jeanne faces at home. The story doesn’t answer whether Jeanne runs away seeking solace with Violet or finds a more permanent escape. This open-endedness allows the themes of acceptance and the transformative power of kindness to resonate even more powerfully. Even in the face of unspoken trauma and a confusing situation, Violet’s actions offer a beacon of hope, a testament to the power of empathy in a world that can be cruel and unwelcoming.

“One in One Thousand” by Logihy explores the life of Jackie, a hardworking executive who has a bit of a temper, and regularly talks down on her workers. Jackie seems to have it all, but her relationship with her girlfriend, Elaine, is on the rocks, with Jackie feeling that Elaine’s distant from her. One morning, though, Jackie feels an electric shock while touching Elaine’s hand. She doesn’t feel an electric shock with her subordinates though. She wonders why she was shocked by Elaine but not anyone else, and she concludes that this was some sort of divine punishment for her mean attitude. To her, not being able to hold her most beloved in her arms is the most severe punishment there is, so she decides to work on her attitude, becoming kinder in the process. It didn’t work, but Elaine revealed the reason why she felt distant. She didn’t want to burden Jackie on top of the work Jackie was already doing. With that miscommunication out of the way, they profess their love for each other, and suddenly, Jackie can touch Elaine again without risking a shock. 

Logihy’s art style in One in One Thousand is undeniably striking. The confident lines and polished presentation create a visually appealing experience, but this aesthetic goes beyond mere surface-level charm. The bold lines and sharp angles can be interpreted as a reflection of Jackie’s initial demeanor – sharp, assertive, and perhaps even a little cold. This is especially evident in scenes where she interacts with her subordinates. The electric shock Jackie experiences when touching Elaine becomes a striking symbol of the emotional barrier between them. The inability to touch due to the electric current reinforces this disconnect. However, the art style shines most in its ability to tell the story through visual elements. Even without a stylistic shift, the way Jackie and Elaine are depicted in the panels can hint at the growing tenderness and the eventual relief Jackie feels once their problems are resolved and their love is reaffirmed.

“Where the Heart Is” (Story by Momo my and Art by Marc M.) follows Coleen as she hops between universes. At the start, Coleen was waiting for a date, but it turns out, thanks to a reminder from her best friend Rose, she made the date in an alternate universe. She then jumped into an alternate universe where she did make the date, but then, it turns out that in this universe, she dated her best friend Rose. She was about to ask Rose about the details, but then she accidentally jumped into another universe. As she gathered her thoughts, Coleen had a love epiphany of sorts, realizing how close she was with Rose. As she walked around in the universe she fell into, she met Rose, who, it turns out, was going on a date. As she tried to chase after Rose, she tripped and found herself in yet another universe. As things seemed bleak and Coleen felt lost, Rose came in with a blanket. With Rose by her side, Coleen finally feels at home. 

While the story’s central message of finding a home with your beloved resonates deeply, it also raises intriguing questions about the characters’ lives in the alternate universes Coleen keeps jumping between. We see Coleen grapple with the consequences of her interdimensional travel – accidentally dating her best friend Rose in one universe, leaving another date hanging, and feeling utterly lost after yet another jump. This raises the question: what about the lives of those left behind in these alternate universes? Does the Rose who went on a date in the universe Coleen landed in ever figure out where her date disappeared to? Does the Coleen who was supposed to meet someone special ever wonder what might have been? Marc M.’s art style, thankfully, provides a welcome contrast to the questions the story raises. There’s also a possibility the color palette used in the work might hold a deeper meaning. It bears a resemblance to the lesbian flag, which, if intentional, adds a subtle layer of appreciation for Coleen and Rose’s relationship. Whether a deliberate choice or not, the art style in Where the Heart Is beautifully complements the story, making it a truly engaging experience.

“Tinned Fish” by Sobsannix delves into the story of Cam, as she has weird dreams where she is turned into a field mouse who is then eaten by a cat. Ever since she started having those dreams, she hasn’t had good sleep. One night, she decides to just let the cat consume her as she falls asleep, leading to her taking control of her dream. She tries to negotiate with the cat to not eat her. It seems like the cat understands her, but then she gets eaten anyway. As Cam wakes up, she realizes that she can bring food into her dreams, and does so the next time she sleeps. The cat takes in the sardine sourdough toast with sweet onions and radishes. The cat likes it and begins to speak. While speaking, the cat turns into a girl, saying that she won’t eat Cam as long as Cam brings food into her dream. Cam then wakes up, and while in the real world, she encounters a familiar smell coming from a lady waiting nearby for the train. Cam didn’t get to confirm if the lady was the same cat from the dream, but she decided to bring some mackerel when she went to sleep. Turns out, the cat, named Coley, is a dream hopper who jumps into dreams. Cam and Coley then share a friendship that leads to something more while in the dream. Coley also admits that she regularly targeted Cam’s dreams, as she “got addicted” to how Cam tastes. Cam wants to meet Coley in real life, but Coley’s unsure, as she doesn’t recognize whoever she forms a bond with. This leads to Cam waking up and trying to find Coley. In the end, Cam finds Coley in the bar with her scent. 

Unlike the other stories in the anthology, Tinned Fish boasts a unique brand of “cute.” Sobsannix’s art style is a touch scratchy, yet undeniably endearing. It perfectly captures the dreamlike world Cam dives into, where she shrinks to a mouse and interacts with a peculiar cat named Coley. The character designs for both Cam and Coley are particularly interesting – the scratchy lines add a layer of whimsy that reflects the absurdity of a talking cat who enjoys a good dream-time snack.  This aesthetic perfectly aligns with the author’s intention of creating something “cute, love-y, and fun.”

“Everything Out of Reach” by Alamangoes (she also drew the cover art for this anthology) depicts the challenges faced by Soledad (Sol) as she falls in love with her childhood friend, Lara. Sol loved Lara ever since they were children, but in a lollipop, she saw the many ways their friendship go wrong if she were to confess. So she decided to hide her feelings instead. She was scared of Lara hating her, and this fear of the future grew with her. When Sol and Lara were picking college courses, Sol picked a more mundane path with a nearby college, while Lara chose a college far away. Before Lara left though, she confessed to Sol, only for Sol to unspool her anxieties about how the relationship wouldn’t work without even responding to Lara’s confession. Years pass by, and Lara returns home. Sol and Lara hit it off again and reconnect, though there’s always this undercurrent from Lara that things could go wrong. It’s only when Sol and Lara have a heart-to-heart about their futures that things start unraveling from Sol’s end. Sol talks of visions she sees, and how she can see the many futures ahead of her, and yet everything goes badly for her. It’s only when Lara promises a future together that Sol finds it in herself to fall in love and let the pieces fall where they may be, rather than constantly catastrophizing about her future with the visions she sees. As Sol and Lara leave to face the future, Sol pulls out some lollipops. The lollipops show the many ways their future would take fold, such as them staying together or splitting up, but this time, she takes the lollipop hand-in-hand with Lara. 

Alamangoes’ art style shines through in its ability to capture the emotional core of Sol’s story. Whether it’s the cover illustration featuring Sol and Lara as adults, brimming with a hopeful nervousness, or the visual representation of Sol’s anxieties, the art perfectly complements the narrative. We see Sol’s fear of rejection reflected in her initial apprehension towards Lara’s confession. Alamangoes cleverly uses lollipops, bubbles, and even literal haze emanating from Sol to depict the overwhelming and sometimes suffocating nature of her visions of alternate futures. Within these objects, Alamangoes draws images that represent the many potential outcomes Sol fixates on – a powerful visual representation of her overthinking. This directly connects to the author’s dedication in the notes – a story for “all the overthinkers and late bloomers out there.” The way Alamangoes depicts Sol and Lara together, particularly amidst Sol’s visual anxieties, offers a powerful message of hope. It resonates with anyone who has ever been paralyzed by fear of the unknown, reminding us that even the most overwhelming anxieties can be overcome, and that true connection can be worth the risk.

While the anthology is billed as magic realism, another powerful theme emerges – radical kindness. This kind of kindness permeates throughout the stories, such as the kindness and understanding that Violet shows Jeanne in Paruparong Bukid, Lara reaching out and reassuring Sol about their future together in Everything Out of Reach, among many other examples throughout the anthology. The authors’ notes offer insightful perspectives on radical kindness, highlighting its importance in creating safe spaces, fostering self-acceptance, and building connections within the LGBTQIA+ community in the Philippines – a community facing legal limitations and societal prejudice. For example, in the Family Code, a marriage is defined as “a permanent special contract union between a man and a woman.” Bills trying to give queer people equal rights languish in Congress with no hope of being passed. Combine that with harmful stereotypes, is it any wonder why the authors express the need for kindness when kindness for them is in short supply? 

I’m not as deep into the community as I like, being more of a lurker, but through Silakbo (both anthologies), I’ve come to appreciate the crucial need for safe spaces and equal rights for LGBTQIA+ individuals. Until then, though, we have to practice radical kindness to create a kinder world.

I do hope that by sharing Silakbo with a wider audience, not only those within the Philippines, I can at least spread the stories the artists want to share. 

May all your lives be kind and soft (sabi ng mama mo).

 

Ratings

Art – 10, a feast for the eyes, with the different styles serving to build the narrative, as well as to show off the artists’ preferences, especially with the color choices.

Story – 8, some stories feel like they could be expanded a bit more, or were constrained by the format.

Characters – 8, generally agreeable, though, again, I feel as if I would have wanted to spend more time with them.

Service – 0

Yuri – 10. The anthology encourages you to spread the gay.

Overall – 9

 

You can reach the publisher of this anthology, Kalabaw Studios, over here. You can buy their anthology, as well as many other works published by them through Shopee.

Thank you Miguel! This is just wonderful. I’m going to put this on my to-get list. ^_^





Okazu Staff takes on Yuri Is My Job, Volume 12

May 13th, 2024

Two girls in green, old-fashioned Japanese school uniforms embrace. A girl with blond hair and glasses tenderly holds a girl with blue hair, who holds on tentatively.Yuri Is My Job, Volume 12 came out in English from the fantastic team at Kodansha and it was…a lot. I had reviewed it in Japanese almost a year ago, and it was a lot then, too. After discussion with Okazu Staff Writers, I decided that it was big enough and complicated enough that no one person ought to have to shoulder it. So, welcome to the very first Okazu Staff Writers Group Review. Here you will find 5 perspectives on this volume, each from people whose opinions you trust, but who are all quite different people.

CW for this volume and these reviews: sexual assault, emotional manipulation, trauma.

 

Reviews by:

Luce | Christian LeBlanc | Eleanor Walker | Matt Marcus | Erica Friedman

 


Luce

Goeido had always been a divisive character, I imagine. Since she was introduced back in volume four, she was shown to be manipulative and callous, something only expounded upon every time she showed up. Last volume, her and Kanoko went to a hotel together – just to ‘talk’. This volume, we get the culmination of that interaction, and boy howdy is it uncomfortable. Not happy getting Sumika and Nene to think that her and Kanoko are in a relationship, she essentially comes on to Kanoko, to prove to her that kissing and sex are important in a relationship. Kanoko is stuck, because admitting that kissing might be important means that Yano kissing Hime meant something, but if it was important, that implies that Hime didn’t mind this from Yano, something Kanoko cannot bear.

The sexual violence warned about on the contents page, I think, (although I’m concerned it’s a bit too easily missed, though I’m happy it’s there) refers to two separate incidents in this volume. The first with Goeido and Kanoko – where Kanoko unwillingly has her skirt and top taken off, and as far as the reader can tell, that’s as far as it goes (however, Goeido is at least twenty, but probably a little older, and Kanoko is 15/16). Equally uncomfortable was the second incident, where Kanoko, on the same day, forces a kiss onto Sumika, and feels up her breasts, without asking for any consent. Sumika pushes her away, and ultimately it shows up Kanoko’s extremely warped thinking, which honestly I have some trouble following. But they talk about it, which is good.

Goeido’s actions are reprehensible, definitely, and as an asexual person, extremely uncomfortable, but not for the reason you might think. I am fine with sex scenes in manga. It’s her implication that love cannot exist without sex, which I would like to vehemently oppose. I feel like this is meant to represent Goeido’s views rather than necessarily the mangaka’s, but it still sticks out as uncomfortable to me. For her, love and sex are completely linked in a way that no one else in the manga thinks about – and I can’t help but wonder if she might be aromantic allosexual, albeit terrible representation for an extremely underrepresented and demonised orientation. But to me, in many ways, it makes sense – her insistence that love is impossible without kissing and sex. Her ability to walk away from Nene when her job requirements changed. Nene states that every time they met up, they ended up in a hotel, having sex.

Honestly, I don’t even really like this interpretation, but it equally makes sense to me. I don’t like it because alloaros, as they are coined, are forgotten, or the characters that might most likely be alloaro are the ‘players’, the assholes who use people for sex then leave without a second thought, which is definitely not defining for the entire group, the same way other stereotypes are not indictive of entire other orientations. But in a manga where romantic love has been shown to tear people up, make them blush and just react in general, Goeido has always felt calculating and calm. Maybe she’s just in control of her emotions, apart from a few surprised expressions. But even with Nene, she’s always shown to be in control of the situation, never reacts much outside of a general pleasantness that she shows to almost everyone bar Sumika.

I think she’s a bit similar to Hime, actually.

Perhaps they are two sides of the same coin – Hime as the ‘good’ side, and Goeido as the ‘bad’ side. They both have a facade of innocent pleasantness, whereas their true selves are far more manipulative and callous. The difference is that Goeido seems to want to stir chaos and hurt people (especially Sumika), whereas Hime, when push comes to shove, wants to help and keep people together. Hime, though, has been forced to grow and change over the series, pushed by the immovable rock of Yano, refusing to back down and let her get away with her manipulations. Goeido hasn’t changed a single bit. She’s stuck on getting back at Sumika – and I’m pretty sure that’s why she came back to Cafe Liebe in the first place. Either to bait Sumika, or to get an in to get someone else to.

Perhaps Nene was onto something – maybe she was attracted to Sumika. As a beautiful lady, perhaps someone not being attracted to her heated so much she wanted to take revenge against everything that meant something to Sumika. Maybe she was just mad that Sumika saw through her facade. Who knows – part of me thinks this won’t be the last we see of Goeido, not that I especially want to see her again. I think I’ll be glad when the air starts to clear, as it might do next volume between Kanoko and Sumika, and we return back to Mitsuki and Hime.

 


Chris LeBlanc

I will admit, reading Volume 12 a second time to gather my thoughts felt even more uncomfortable than reading it the first time.

I have this idea that most online arguments could be resolved if people would just understand that different things work for different people. Goeido would disagree with this theory, however – I get the feeling she believes everyone else on the planet feels the same way she does about sex and romance, and anyone who claims to have different ideas about these things is being delusional. It feels like everyone in Yuri Is My Job! are on different pages when it comes to this, though, and while that usually makes for enjoyable dramatic conflict, let’s just say that Goeido crosses a lot of lines in this volume.

There’s a part later in the book where Kanoko claims to have been unharmed by Goeido, but this is clearly not the case, underscored by the black gutters and panel borders in this section (a technique normally reserved for flashbacks in manga). Happily, the visual tones eventually turn much brighter as Sumika tries to help Kanoko through this chapter, even leading to a cute bit where she tries slipping into Schwester-speak for a moment before dismissing it.

 

 

Eleanor Walker

There are many different kinds of love, and Goeido, one of our central characters for this volume believes that sex and love (and possibly violence, I would argue) are intrinsically linked, and one is not possible without the others. Moreover, anyone who disagrees with her is automatically wrong and must be shown the error of her ways. I am not generally a fan of sexual assault used as a plot device, but this volume handles it pretty well, and it works within the context of the story. However, the full colour spread of Goeido posing in lingerie to open the volume left me viscerally uncomfortable, especially in a series which hasn’t been terribly focused on fanservice. But my favourite moment was when Saionji shows up and reminds Goeido that not everyone thinks like she does.
 
 
Kanoko pretends that’s she’s alright after the event, but she definitely seems off to me, and I hope the next volumes have her getting help to deal with such a traumatic experience.
 
 

Matt Marcus

I struggled a lot with this volume. On the one hand, I understand exactly what Miman chose to do: they decided that Kanoko needed an extreme push to break her calcified conception of Hime and her relationships in order to drive her character arc forward. Narratively, it’s a sound maneuver, and it is effective insofar as it demonstrates how some people will desperately hold onto a belief despite knowing it will do them tangible harm, and how in turn they can reflect that harm onto others. On the other hand, I think what Miman chose to do was in poor taste and has negative implications to the themes of the series.

Goiedo was an interesting character to me. Sure, she was a bad person, but she was for the most part honest in her intentions. She was very clear with Nene that they were fooling around to make Sumika jealous and to have a bit of fun: nothing more, nothing less. It’s not really her fault that Nene’s feelings developed into romance…OK it kind of is, but she could have continued to exploit Nene’s feelings for her, but that wasn’t the contract they made. Yes, the relationship ended once it was no longer convenient for her which is a shitty thing to do, but nevertheless I found it compelling that she was a villain who meant what she said and held herself—and Nene—accountable.

What Goeido does to Kanoko, however, is simply beyond the pale. It’s one thing to play around with the heart of a sensitive girl, but it’s another to enact targeted psychological violence at the threat of serious intimate violence. To me, at that point she stopped being a believable plot device and turned into a plot contrivance. She is instrumentalized as a mouthpiece of a certain viewpoint on romance without any explanation as for why she believes it. There was an opportunity for this, as she is very familiar with A Maiden’s Heart and no doubt should have opinions on how it depicts relationships between girls and what it represents. As we see on the page, she has feelings on how the characters acted within the confines of the story, but does not take a viewpoint of how the story itself relates to the real world—in a series that is all about meta-narrative.

What tweaks me more, is that Miman wants us to believe that the assault happened…until Kanoko reveals later that it didn’t. And then Kanoko assaults Sumika. It all feels very emotionally manipulative, playing with very triggering subject matter. I think the same narrative turns could have been accomplished without it. Goeido can still be the villain; Kanoko can still panic and flail; Sumika can still be angry and hurt. It just didn’t need to be this.

This narrative turn also unintentionally creates problems for the meta-narrative structure of the series as well. There was always an ongoing tension between the sanitized, pseudo-romantic Class S performances in the cafe and the messier real relationships that were occurring simultaneously. So far, Goeido is the only character who transgressed the Class S “purity” by introducing sex into the story. Given how she’s also now unequivocally a predator, coupled with Sumika’s statement that she has no interest in a physical relationship with Kanoko, frames sexual desire as only a corruptive weapon. It aligns the “real” world with the fictional world of Liebe in that the relationship between girls is only good when it is the pure bond of the Schwesterns. It’s a turn that feels regressive, reminding me specifically of the muddled messages from the Yuri Kuma Arashi anime.

Hell, when you look at the whole of WataYuri, every kiss we’ve seen was given without consent—Yano on Hime, Goeido on Nene, and now Kanoko on Sumika. Physical romantic intimacy is thus represented as always a case of someone imposing their desires on another, starting at its origin (it’s worth noting that five of the six characters mentioned were experiencing their first kiss in this context). When Kanoko offers herself to Sumika, she says, “you have to hurt me as much as I hurt you,” clearly framing sexual intimacy as harmful. Obviously, one can have romance without sex—and that’s a great thing—but Miman seems to be saying that romance, at least between women, should only be without it.

We have had some great discussions about WataYuri in the Okazu discord, and one of the viewpoints raised by Erica and others is that one can read this series as celebrating the potential power of the bonds of sisterhood from Class S stories rather than rejecting it, which is an argument I can support; however, if the series also drags along the negative aspects of those tropes with it into the modern day, I’d rather such stories be left in the past.

Also the hotel should’ve been called Best Schwestern. I mean, c’mon.

 

Erica Friedman

I have now read these chapters three times. The first in the pages of Comic Yuri Hime magazine, where they were a genuine shock, again in the collected volume where I could take time to be truly angry at Yoko. As an adult, her actions are morally repugnant and criminal. I sat with my feelings about no one in the Cafe being able to see what kind of person Yoko was and, I’ll admit, considered dropping the story. I was that angry.

Now I have read the chapters for third time, this time in my native language and it allowed me a chance to delve into all the nuanced ways this arc has made me uncomfortable. Primarily – I do not like Kanako. I have never liked her as a character. Her obsession with Hime blinds her to everything and everyone else. When she hurt no one but herself, she was tolerable. When Sumika became involved, it was not. I am not a fan of “obsession” in literature, as it has been co-opted by serial killer/stalk “”thrillers.” I have been trained to keep waiting for Kanako to snap.

Sumika’s own delusion is pretty high – she imagines that she is above romantic love and attraction and when intimacy with Kanako forces her to rethink that, she does not handle it maturely. Because she, too, is a child. We look at Kanako and see an innocent, naive girl, but forget that Sumika is only a teenager, as well. Kanoko’s inability to “see” other people and understand their motivations is a complicated matter. Yes, Kanako absolutely pings neurodivergent (as does Mitsuki,) but I, personally, have a belief that if you read that much, surely you begin to understand something about people. I did not understand people my own age, but I understood human nature as a whole at Kanako’s age, purely from reading books by and for adults.

So as we watch Kanako walk into Yoko’s hotel room, of course we are screaming at the pages of the book…but also I am screaming at Kanoko. How have she read so much and is unable to see that Yoko is not okay?

Yoko, too, has an obsession. Her only goal is to hurt Sumika. The why is not all that critical to the story, and it will be handwaved into an almost unbelievable act of hurting the thing one loves, as if Yoko is a child in kindergarten aggressively teasing someone they like because they don’t know how to act appropriately. As Matt points out, even though the why is not critical…there should have been an attempt at giving us a why.

This third time, I sat with all the layers of discomfort – not liking Kanako, but also forced to sympathize as she deals with all-too-real trauma.   Not liking Yoko, on multiple levels, including the way she is presented to us as a sexual creature (encapsulated in a very uncomfortable-making two-page spread of Yoko in lingerie ), then her words and actions to Kanako making no real sense, as if she’s a cult member trying to proselytize. And Sumika, whose desire to protect Kanako is bifurcated into competing needs for intimacy and responsibility, with no clear understanding of how to do either. And back to Kanoko, who will deal with this trauma…but maybe not take the right lesson from it?

This is a rough volume, about characters making bad choices sometimes for good reasons, sometimes for appalling reasons. But it is an important volume to move both Sumika and Kanoko out of their childish delusions, into more adult delusions. The question I am left with is…is this what we needed or wanted from Yuri Is My Job!?

For such a silly premise, this story has had more than it’s fair share of me shouting at the characters.





The Moon On A Rainy Night, Volume 4

May 10th, 2024

Two young women play-wrestle on a sofa, both laugh uproariously as they share a moment of pure joy. In Volume 3, Saki found herself seen in ways that were both complicatedly affirming and deeply confusing. Now that she knows Kanon’s history, her one comment is that barriers are meant to be blown away completely – a line that changes everything for Kanon.

Think about a moment when you believed you could do – something, anything – before someone told you, you could not take flying lessons, or whatever that thing might have been. Kanon, whose whole life was pretty much striving in musical endeavor, had a life change that made her think she could never have that back. She won’t be able to regain what she had, but now she can see that she can create something new.

In The Moon On A Rainy Night, Volume 4, Kanon decides to reclaim that feeling for herself,

To an American audience, the song that Saki ends up choosing for her class may seem simple, cheesy, banal even, but the text here explicitly asks you to consider the meaning behind the song – what it was originally mean to represent and how it can mean even more in this specific context. I ask you to consider who Stevie Wonder is, as well  – a man blind from birth who has shaped global music in innumerable ways, and Paul McCartney, a man from humble beginnings who also changed music on a global scale. So, yes, we may hear “Ebony and Ivory,” and think of it as a bland pop song – but, in this context, it means so much.

“You shouldn’t have to get over any barriers! They should be knocked down to begin with!”  Saki’s words have not stopped resonating with me since I first read this volume in Japanese in 2022. In every way I can, I am committed to removing barriers.

Ratings:

Art – 8
Story – 9
Characters – 9
Service – 0
Yuri – 4, LGBTQ – 6

Overall – 9

This year we have a bounty of charming, empowering and delightful Yuri – we have been seen – and it feels great.