Shun Mizorogi is an acclaimed novelist who seems to have passed his prime. He hasn’t written a thing in years yet at his publisher’s party, he becomes infatuated with a young girl who calls herself Aki Fujino.

After the debut his new work, the police calls him in to identify a body of a girl who jumped a building. At the morgue, he sees Fujino’s body and another girl who looks exactly like her.

This is a story of a novelist. This is Utsubora.

A leap of faith

Utsubora has a charm which I find difficult to explain to friends. I’m not exactly sure how to sell this title to friends. I can start with Nakamura Asumiko. She’s quite known as a fantastic BL artist with her titles always at the top of Kono BL ga Yabai every year. However, this title is not exactly BL so fujoshi friends usually shy away from things that aren’t BL or BL friendly. I can try with my non-BL reading friends but the concept of selling a murder mystery when what they want is a vampire romance or an existentialist piece makes me think twice about gushing about this title.

So I’ll do it here. Because my god, I have to put a place where I can gush about titles I love and in this case, Utsubora‘s deserves such love.

I won’t deny that my discovery of Utsubora is a result of a ‘manhunt’ for all things that are Nakamura Asumiko. I also won’t deny that it was at the end of my list. At that time, like every Asumiko fan, my priorities were getting her BL and that is it. Anything outside of BL is unknown to me so to see Utsubora on the shelf and deciding to bring it home (over possible BL titles I could bring home) was a giant leap of faith. I didn’t know what to expect with the title but at that time, I found myself unable to resist the lure of a girl’s stare, biding me to read her story.

The strangest of seductions

I think by now some people might actually know my weakness for manga with really pretty covers.

And Utsubora’s no exception.  A bright bold color against a stark, almost haunting image of a girl. It’s simple yet striking. I remember being awed when I saw the Japanese version of the first volume on a tower of Nakamura titles. It truly stands out and has an impact that lures anyone to pick it off a shelf.

Out of the lot, it’s the only cover that stirred my curiosity and excitement. To this day, Utsubora has become one of my personal favorites in terms of book covers. Not only did it get the usual “ooohs~” and “aaahs~” but upon gazing back at the girl’s eyes, I find myself asking “What story do you have to tell me?”

With just a cover, I wanted to know what Utsubora was all about. Who was this girl? And what will happen to her? I had an intense desire to see what her story is all about only to find myself in a web of mystery which left me in agony for a year or so, at least until the next volume’s out.

Strangely, when I saw the second volume online, I didn’t get the same intense feeling. Not that the cover isn’t as pretty, but the mesmerizing effect of seeing and holding the book in the flesh didn’t really happen until I got my book. The Utsubora covers have a strange physical charm that it’s hard not to be lured by it.

The US Vertical version, which combines both volumes, is more haunting with the white background against the heroine. Looking at the US cover makes the heroine look like a ghost. It almost presents itself as a ghost story. Almost.

Post-modern ghosts.

Fortunately (for me at least), Utsubora‘s not a gothic horror tale filled with ghosts. If it were, I wouldn’t dare touch it with a ten foot pole.

But it does have some ‘ghosts’: the metaphoric and perhaps literary kind. The ones that you keep in your closet. The ones that you can touch, taste, feel with much realness that your body trembles at their presence.

That’s what Shun Mizorogi felt when he first saw Miki Sakura, the estranged younger twin sister of the girl he met in the party, Aki Fujino. The girl had strikingly similar features as Aki. She also shared similar memories as her, even when she confesses how estranged they were as sisters. Shun’s encounter with Miki was a trigger to many questions that confound not only the death of Fujino but also the credibility of his new work, Utsubora.

And I’ll stop there. One slip of my stupid tongue might give away the intricate mystery Nakamura has built. She’s laid a web of secrets quite early in the comic that should I reveal any past this I might just end up telling the whole story. This is possibly the most difficult part of this review. Because the best part of Utsubora was how these secrets were revealed.

A contemporary noir.

To me, the comic reads like a good noir: a very modern noir. You’ve got your detectives, your dead body, your anxious hero, and your seductive vixen who is nothing but trouble. But Nakamura’s art style and calculated execution makes this noir formula quite contemporary.

Compared to her other works, Nakamura’s style in Utsubora is quite minimalist. It is bare not because she has nothing to draw, but she draws what needs to be drawn. The images, expressions and landscapes pop and extend in careful panels designed to immerse its readers to particular aspects of the characters’ life, emotions and their conundrum. Her pages are unafraid to be sparse or dark. It establishes the desperation which she carefully builds throughout her story. It feels like a classic noir but it doesn’t feel old fashioned at all. In fact Utsubora‘s quite an exciting and refreshing read. Brooding and desperate as it is.

Nakamura chooses her drawings well, as if flirting with her readers by revealing only so much at such a time, especially in the first part of the story. However, as the second part of Utsubora begins, she exposes her story with such vulgarity that it’s nowhere near an old noir. Each page becomes more and more graphic as she reveals the sexual exploits of her characters. And since Vertical’s not in the habit of censoring pages, readers have to prepare themselves with scenes that might be unusual and possibly uncomfortable for a casual English manga reader. Of course, Nakamura executes these scenes with such beauty that even their downfall becomes beautiful.

And that’s the thing with Utsubora, really. Tempting as it is to turn this story into a total disaster, Nakamura placed so much care in placing her pieces that in the end it creates a mystery where everything is in its place. And it’s carefully paced in a way that you just keep on reading to reveal more pieces.  And that’s quite rare in manga, nowadays. Seriously.

But will this noir be for everyone? Is Nakamura for everyone?

If there’s one thing that I’ve learned from Utsubora as a reader, I realize that I’m one of a kind. As I said, I love this title. I love this title enough to put it in my top 20 favorite manga. I love this title enough to constantly remind Vertical that they should license this. But once the English version started rolling in and my academic life started to take my life I learned the following: (1) Not a lot of people love mysteries (I’ve been told that mystery manga is not profitable genre among English manga readers), (2) Not all fujoshi read works of BL authors outside of BL, (3) Not all fujoshi appreciate BL authors writing het, (4) Not all fujoshi enjoy Nakamura’s lanky, almost shoujo-esque art.

In short, this is possibly a title that would possibly be loved by me alone and perhaps hundreds of me who may have pre-ordered this from Vertical. Vertical has already been blatant about saying that Utsubora’s not doing well in the pre-orders and that saddens me because it’s a fantastic title. What’s sadder is that because this venture is potentially unsuccessful, Vertical won’t be bringing in other Nakamura titles outside of BL. Not that Chicken Club is a possibility. Personally, I entertained the idea that they might bring her gothic lolita artbooks/anthology Le Theatre d’A & B or maybe her josei and somewhat yuri title Tetsudou Shoujo Manga (but that’s not exactly for Vertical either). Jmanga actually introduced her to English readers with her famous BL title Dokyuusei but with the site folding this month, even that is disappearing.

Thus I feel conflicted. I feel happy that Nakamura’s leaving her legacy in English-translated manga with Utsubora. But at the same time, I feel sad that this is her only title around. Nakamura Asumiko’s an amazing artist and if I had my way, I’d love to get her story out there because she is as (if not more) diverse as other well-loved female artists in the west such as Yoshinaga Fumi.

Her story with Utsubora doesn’t end with her book alone but also with the stark reality on the limits of the US manga industry and English-reading fandom. Fans have been clamoring for something new and fresh from the usual formulaic manga. Fujoshi fans particularly wanted to see Nakamura in English. And then here’s a publisher who does their best to bring something new with Nakamura’s work and yet somehow, despite various campaigns, it’s just not happening.

That said, I’m keeping my hopes up with Utsubora. Not sure if people who were hesitant to get the manga will find this review useful. I hope they do. Then let’s fangirl or fanboy together.

Utsubora may not find its charms now, but what I’m hoping is that when this manga hits the shelves, people, even non-manga readers, will be take a leap of faith and be lured by a young girl’s stare, begging them to unravel her story. I’m quite sure they won’t regret reading it. I didn’t.

Series Information

Utsubora by Nakamura Asumiko
Published by Ohta Shuppan (Japan), Vertical, Inc. (US)
Serialized in Manga Erotics F

Pre-order the English Edition (will be released on June 18, 2013): Amazon, Book Depository, Barnes and Noble

Japanese Edition: Amazon Japan, Honto

War is a victorious, perhaps bitter, maybe a painful playground for adults. In war, we imagine soldiers moving to shoot their enemies, nurses rushing to heal the injured, politicians and generals posing in front of battle plans, and civilians running away from the crossfire. Our memories of war are ingrained with images of adults trying to make sense out of that chaos. For years we have been surrounded by timeless photographs and movies about that war that to this day, we envision the war strongly as an adult’s world.

But what about the children? Where is the child’s place in our social memory of the Pacific war?

Finding the child’s place in social memory entails an understanding of social memory and the value of children’s experiences in relation to the grand historical World War II narrative. Their frail voices in World War II histories speak of how much their war experiences have been neglected. However, as these children find their voices as adults, the recollection of their World War II experience as children becomes unbearably loud.

These are the memories of three Japanese children during the war against the images of Japanese childhood as constructed by Japan’s propaganda machinery. The memories of Keiji Nakazawa, Osamu Tezuka, and Shigeru Mizuki present a different story of the Pacific War —providing a fresh yet powerful social memory that makes us question on how war affects people at all ages.

The Junior Citizens of the strong Japanese Nation

At the onset of the invasion of Manchuria in 1931, Japan has been at war for more than 40 years. War was a reality among Japanese children and the government took advantage of this situation by shaping these children’s mind towards war. They were making Junior Citizens out of the Japanese children.

Education was at the heart of the mobilization of children for war. As early as the Meiji period, morals education were taught to all children. By the early 1930s, the government used radio broadcasts that were played in schools to stir sentiments of the children.

When War Minister Sadao Araki retired in 1936, he decided to divert his attention to school as he revamped the system when he was appointed as the minister of education. As Araki was at the heart of the “Imperial Way” ideology, he pushed his nationalist sentiments unto education as well. He noted that in order to “mobilize the spirit of the nation,” there was a need for “self-reflection and self-discipline.” [1]

By 1937, new ethics textbooks were introduced in schools by Education Ministry: Kokutai no Hongi (The True Meaning of our National Structure) and Shinmin no Michi (The Way of the People). Over 2 million copies of Kokutai no Hongi were distributed in schools and became central in the moral and spiritual mobilization of children in wartime Japan. Shinmin no Michi was closer to general textbook: a mix between the bible and the Kokutai no Hongi.

These textbooks stirred nationalist sentiments, emphasizing on the greatness and uniqueness of Japan.[2] Values of patriotism, loyalty, and respect for the kokutai (nation) were imbedded unto the minds of children so that they would not fall for individualism and materialism. Because the family is the lifeblood of the nation, it is important that each individual must think in context of their families in as much as they must take into consideration their larger family: the nation.[3] To draw children’s attention towards the study of the books, they even employed cartoonists to illustrate their books in order to inspire children to support their efforts.[4] It was of utmost importance that Japan does not commit the same mistakes of the Taisho era.

Once Hideki Tojo became the prime minister of Japan in 1941, Araki went ahead and made changes in the structure of the public school system. The aim of education was to create Junior Citizens out of children. Ideally, these children should comprehend the nationalist values of the empire. More than that, they should have the skills that will allow them to fully contribute to the nation. As Junior Citizens, these children should have the capacity, small as they are, to contribute to the war effort. Hence, Araki pulled all the strings in making every child work for the nation.

Most children began studying through primary education. However, they were also required to attend National Youth Schools (Kokumin Seinen Gakko). In these youth schools, nationalism was stressed greatly as children were immersed in propaganda and nationalists texts. Children were encouraged to offer themselves to the state should emergency arise and that they should “guard and maintain the prosperity” of the Imperial Throne.[5] Many students graduate from these youth schools at the age of 13.

Once these children reached middle schools, they were offered advanced training in helping the military or training with them. In schools, children learned patriotic calligraphy that was either displayed for their homes or in public. Composition classes were dedicated to themes of patriotism. Hands-on experiments with crops and livestock were incorporated in science and math courses in order to boost production.

After middle school, children were either enrolled in vocational schools or at specialized high schools. In earlier years, there were various military training camps that boys could participate in. Either way, these children were given military training or other skills. In the 159th issue of Photographic Weekly Report on 12 March 1941, they showcased photos of children performing various tasks. In its accompanying article named “Youth are the Advance Army Shouldering Responsibility for Japan,” girls were seen taking cooking and housekeeping classes. While boys were seen doing military drills, horticulture, fishing, and operating heavy machinery. According to David Earhart, author of Certain Victory: Images of World War II in Japanese Media, many of these young men would eventually be drafted before the end of the war.[6]

Things changed as soon as the war reached its last stretch. Children were taken out of schools and boys, still as young as middle school were directly sent to training camps while girls were in factories producing war materials. Younger children were either working in the fields or in ammunition factories.[7]

There was no time for universities for most children at that time. With the recruitment age as young as 20, many boys were sent straight to the army before they even had the choice to go to college. At one point, even boys as young as 15 were encouraged to “volunteer” in the army. If they chose not to go, they would be sent immediately to training centers or labor camps where they were either malnourished or exhausted.[8]

By 1944, these children not only became junior citizens but junior warriors as well. School children were separated from their parents and were bunked in schools and temples where teachers would assign them tasks and duties to support the war effort. This ranged from agricultural jobs to intense military training like tank drivers or even kamikaze pilots.[9] Towards the final stages of the war, various articles of young boys taking part in the “Special Attack Forces” were published in hopes to publicize the suicide missions of these young soldiers.[10] These last sacrifices were a mark of the complete spiritual mobilization of the Japanese youth. All of them willingly gave their lives for their country, whether they died under fire in the middle of the battlefield or under exhaustion in the middle of a rice field.

Outside schools, children also played a part in lifting the spirits of the soldiers and were often used in Japanese War propaganda. Children were effective tools in encouraging soldiers to bravely continue the war. They made various contributions, both formally and informally, in the war effort.

The most informal method in using children in propaganda was through letters, care packages, and drawings sent to fathers and other relatives who were already sent off shore to fight for the Japanese cause. Girls were asked to sew good luck charms and other military paraphernalia that symbolizes the undying love and support of families to their soldier relatives. At times, they would even ask children to sing songs for encouragement and these performances were broadcasted on the radio.

The government also used children as images of self-sacrifice hoping that they would serve as an inspiration not only to other children but to adults as well. Even the youngest of children were not spared from participating in war. In place of war bonds, children were encouraged to buy mame saiken (bean-sized bonds) in hopes that their contributions can encourage older people to invest in war bonds.

Outside of the government, various civil groups united children to help the war effort. There was mock East Asian Children’s Council that “aimed to promote Asian unity under the direction of ‘older brother’ in Japan.” There were also Youth Work Corps, Youth Agricultural Volunteers, and Youth Air Corps who were trained in order to be part of the war machinery. These groups were often publicized in order to encourage war sympathies.[1]

As such, the children were seen as happy and eager contributors to the war effort as they wore a brave smile during those difficult times. It was as if the Junior Citizens had no problem with the war.

Tudors England is quite tricky — especially when you have a king who’s been hacking off his wives’ heads. One can only imagine the level of distrust in a royal court filled with intrigue and political turmoil. Ooku no K0, Child of the Kingdom, by Bikke rides on this atmosphere as Henry faces his last few days. Many were counting the days until his death while others were already plotting on who they should support next.

Mindful of of this political game is a young William Cecil who crosses a young actor on stage. He drags the young man to court and shows him to a young Elizabeth. He suggests that this young man be Elizabeth’s political decoy, a body double. And while Elizabeth finds it hard to believe, the young man proves to be as regal as her.

This title was quite something I didn’t expect. Simply because I really just got this for the pretty cover. OTL

And more often than not, pretty doesn’t necessarily mean amazing. Perhaps because the cover was quite ambiguous and I really just thought that it’s going to be one of those erotic period pieces. There’s a girl whose corset is all shifty and tattered. I mean it’s got to be a girl, right? I honestly can’t tell if it’s a girl or a boy in the cover. I mean, is it so wrong to get a book because it’s so damn pretty?

Thankfully, I had no regrets in this one — and it was even quite surprising!

I didn’t expect that the story will be about Elizabeth I nor did I even consider that it will be tackling something quite unexpected for that period — political decoys. Now I’ve only heard of decoys during WWII and I’ve heard of decoys for the pope and such. But not for the Tudors! Well, I hear it was a joke in Blackadder, but it can’t be true, right? Well history has no say on whether Tudor England employed decoys. But Bikke has drawn a convincing world where a decoy devotes his life for his master, facing their fears and even their deaths.

In the first volume, we meet Elizabeth’s decoy, a young actor named Robert/Roberto. Robert’s rather crass but he shares the same face and build as Elizabeth. As an actor, he does her part well. The two of them also shared the same sentiments as older sibling to a younger brother. Somehow, that helped Robert ease into accepting his second life as Elizabeth. In ways, this also earned the young princesses’ trust.

The story revolves around Elizabeth, Robert, and the English court. When Henry VIII died, other political actors began to move their pawns. Cecil already earned his trusted position beside Elizabeth because of Robert, however, there were others like Edward and Thomas Seymour and Francis Walsingham who began to make their moves in the court as well.

Bikke’s interpretation of English court life is fascinating and to be honest, I’m quite interested in the angle that she’s taken for this time in history. To see the court intrigues and plots through the eyes of their decoys turned out to be quite compelling. The first volume shows the fate of Henry VIII’s decoy, but how will Robert and the others fair now that they were at the center of the court’s attention? Especially when people sidle to them as if they were the real thing. Who tells the truth and who speaks of nothing but lies?

It’s amazing and exciting that by the end of the first volume, I wanted to have the next. Bikke draws the period quite well, engaging the readers not only to the famous icons and details of that time (I love how the dresses are drawn!) but also the atmosphere of that period. She draws an almost innocent period for the Tudors, particularly for Edward. That said, there’s enough tension in the eyes of Robert and Elizabeth — they cannot be at ease in court and they to bow for anyone else but each other.

What I also enjoyed was the fact that she used Robert as a body double. Now I know you guys are thinking that I’m just biased because I love crossdressing boys but Robert’s situation does not feel forced. Bikke understood the circumstances of English theater and used it to fulfill this fantasy. What I’m particularly impressed she does not make this a gender issue for Robert. There was hardly any gender drama involved with his transition. In fact he finds honor working for her and chooses to devote himself to her. It’s one of those stories where everything seems to fall into place and you’re there to see where this story will take its turn. Not once did I feel uneasy about the retelling. I can sense that Bikke’s done her fair share of research for this title.

If you know your history, this story can only go in one direction. But like every historical retelling, the romance and the magic begins with what happens in between, the things that historians never account for which we are left to imagine. So far, I’m reading that she won’t let the Thomas Seymour incident pass. Personally, I have my suspicions that Robert might also be developed as Robert Dudley, but I’m not sure. But wouldn’t that be an interesting twist?

This chapter’s quite interesting as I’m receiving diverse reviews for the MMF! So here’s a recap on some of the things written this week!

First! Ash has reviewed Vagabond, by Inoue Takahiko, a retelling of Miyamoto Musashi’s life.  He dwells on the themes found in the 3rd Omnibus of Vagabond. He is also giving away Shigeru Mizuki’s Onwards Towards Our Noble Deaths. You better tell him what’s your favorite historical manga!

Terry Hong also felt the need to look into Vagabond. And in the spirit of samurais, he also looked into House of Five Leaves by Natsume Ono.

In The Beautiful World, Neko reviews MW with a historical perspective. He takes into context the tension of post-war Japan and the taboo sexualities that Tezuka explored. It’s interesting because I rarely see Tezuka contextualized so it’s a good read. I wonder why no one is looking at Buddha? Oh wait, Terry did. Anime Diet also has a look into samurais with Path of the Assassins by Kazuo Koike. 

Jocelyn Allen from Brain vs. Book looks at Naoto Yamakawa’s Chokodoshujin, a manga about the life of Ryunosuke Akutagawa. I too have no knowledge about his life. And for a while I was thinking if he wrote mysteries and then I realize that it was Edogawa Ranpo. lol. But it looks like an interesting book and hopefully I get to read about it.

Speaking of authors’ lives, Terry Hong himself discovered Jiro Taniguchi’s book Times of Botchan, a look into the life of Natsume Soseki, a famous author who I sadly remember most for “I am a cat.”

Right here in Otaku Champloo, I talk about manga and memories, particularly why historical manga is relevant to us.

Whenever I submit proposals to my old university, professors will always ask me “Why historical manga?”

The whole world believes that comics are just comics. They are a shallow form of entertainment that exists to amuse us and that in itself is not bad but what I look at is to what degree are we amused and how does our amusement affect us.

It’s a little harder when tracing the effects of a particular manga to a particular population however, I realize, that as long as a manga exists, its values, mores, style, and art remains timeless and continues to be influential.

All the more when it’s historical manga.

The Power of Historical Manga

One of the things that some critics and academics who look into historical manga will agree on is how dangerous historical manga is. It isn’t dangerous because they’re thick and fat (imagine a copy of Vertical’s Buddha being thrown your way!) but it is dangerous because it is powerful. And this power can go two ways.

On a good end it has the power to bring forth a story lost in history. A historian will whine how we have lost so many nameless and voiceless individuals who were present in history but never made a relevant mark that catapulted them to public fame. History’s grand narrative will always focus on the big political names, but historical manga allows people to read a possibly nameless individual who have lived at one time.

Take Kaoru Mori’s Emma for example. Domestic life in Victorian England has always been within the context and perspective of its owners. Statistics on employment rates, owner’s logs of wages, and housekeeping diaries seem to be the only point of view that we’ll ever have. If you’re lucky, you’d probably get some letters. But not many of these are documented or remembered. Thus, with good research, a manga like Emma can bring life to a possibly nameless maid forever lost in history.

The danger with this power is it is imagined. Kaoru Mori didn’t live in Victorian Engalnd nor was she a maid. But she did do her research, from the facade of London’s streets to the grandeur of English mansions. Early photographs gave her inspiration to draw Emma’s iconic image. Documented history gave her story a setting that is both complicated and intricate. Everything else is to her imagination. Of course Emma is one of the better historical manga that manages to capture the life of its subject.

But what about Hetalia’s imagination of Japan’s takeover of China, particularly the Rape of Nanking? Was that appropriated properly? With reactions like this one, it makes you wonder how one misplaced imagination can stir a different memory of events. One could even wonder about Nobunaga’s multiple historical mangas and how some have placed him as the demon that he was known in history while others ride on his betrayed feelings and his compassion. Many historical manga ride on an imagined identity of its characters and this usually rides on the creator’s own imagination. Like many historicized documents, the disposition, knowledge, and position of the author shifts interpretations o f history in ways both accepted or unaccepted by society.

More than the imagined history of lost voices, there are those who managed to live through an event and tell a compelling story. The power in an autobiography and even a semi-biography lies in its raw and often unadulterated perspective of an event. Perhaps, due to some editorial issues, images may have been toned down but the story will still feel the weight of the author’s experience.

Critics appreciate the honesty that comes with autobiographical manga. Shigeru Mizuki’s Onwards Towards Our Noble Death immerses his readers through his experience in New Britain (Papua New Guinea). And while many were moved by the personal heroism of Mizuki and his mates, it is in many ways a history of Mizuki’s perspective of World War II, a position that some historians and academics are not taking lightly — the idea that Japan too was a victim of war.

Mizuki’s influence as a writer puts power into his war stories. People read him. In Japan, everyone reads him. In fact, Onwards Towards Our Noble Death is just a smidgeon of many biographies that Mizuki has written about the war. And it’s not just him. We have Osamu Tezuka writing his own experience of the war. Of course, there’s Keiji Nakazawa’s own fictionalized experience with Barefoot Gen. These men all speak of the horrors of war and all have claimed an agenda in their comics.

The power lies in how many of these biographical comics, particularly those that pertain to the war becomes politicized. Informal as they, their stories move readers to sympathize and make them believe in the purpose of their comic and their agenda. Barefoot Gen, for example, has been criticized for its anti-war sentiments, particularly in its position in highlighting Japan’s victimized past through the Hiroshima bombing. And there are many other criticisms, all leading to a propaganda and revisionism. A comic leads not only a national debate but also a global exchange on the power of a comic and how it affects how we remember things.

Social Memory

The most powerful aspect of historical manga is its ability to affect social memory.

Just think how much our thoughts about a particular historical period or event has changed because of that one really good comic that made us believe that world, that reality existed. Emma has made us love and sympathize with English maids and Victorian England. Barefoot Gen has made us completely denounce nukes and made a nation feel how they were victimized as a nation.

Readers gain context in historical manga and we lose context at the same time. The success of a historical manga also means the rate in which people’s memories are slowly changing.

There’s no manga on the Battle of Manila. Not a lot of people, particularly Japanese, know the horrors the Japanese brought on Philippine shores. But had Mizuki been sent here than New Britain, would it have been different? What kind of war will Japan remember? And imagine what memories will be instilled in is.

Arguments against history lies in its antiquity and its irrelevance. How the crap are we to even connect to people who didn’t even have cellphones? We’re not in the middle of a war so this sense of urgency and survival is not important. And all these names are long gone and forgotten and knowing them won’t make a difference at all in my life. What’s the point in reading all these memoirs when I can read about pirates elsewhere?

Memories, while fragmented and ancient, is fully present because of its emotions. And historical manga carries these emotions that we bear with every page we read. Laced with these memories are realities that we can possibly experience if we don’t treasure or disregard previous histories that have shaped and changed our lives.

We learn from history. We change as people because of history. There is wisdom found in the lives of the soldier, the monarch, the samurai, and even the maid.

Never will historical manga be irrelevant.