Random Musings: Two from Tagame

Endless GameGengoroh Tagame is an extraordinarily important creator of gay erotic art and manga. He is extremely influential in Japan, but his talent is also recognized worldwide. Tagame’s work has been published in French, Spanish, and Italian, but it wasn’t until 2012 that any of his manga received an English-language release when “Standing Ovations” was collected in the third issue of the erotic comics zine Thickness.

There was a persistent rumor that Tagame didn’t want his work to be published in English, which may have been one of the reasons it took so long for a major release of Tagame’s manga to emerge. Happily, that rumor was unfounded and not at all true; 2013 saw the publication of The Passion of Gengoroh Tagame: The Master of Gay Erotic Manga, which collected stories from over a decade of Tagame’s output.

In part, The Passion of Gengoroh Tagame and the efforts of its editor Graham Kolbeins and its producer and translator Anne Ishii led to the establishment of Massive, a line of apparel and goods inspired by gay manga (and especially by the work of Tagame and Jiraiya). Massive also imports, produces, and translates gay manga and collaborates directly with creators of gay Japanese art and comics. I’m very much looking forward to Massive and Fantagraphics’ release of Massive: Gay Erotic Manga and the Men Who Make It in late 2014 which will include interviews, photography, essays, illustrations, and manga. Tagame will be one of the nine artists featured in the volume.

The publication of The Passion of Gengoroh Tagame may have also helped to open the doors for the German publisher Bruno Gmünder to release two more collections of Tagame’s work in English: Endless Game and Gunji. Bruno Gmünder specializes in high quality releases of gay fiction, nonfiction, comics, art, and photography, so Tagame’s manga fits the publishing house perfectly. In addition to the manga themselves, the volumes also include color illustrations by Tagame. Endless Game and Gunji are the first volumes in Bruno Gmünder’s Gay Manga line of comics. 2014 will also see the release and English debuts of works by Takeshi Matsu and Mentaiko Itto, as well as one of Tagame’s most recent manga, Fisherman’s Lodge. Tagame was also included in Bruno Gmünder’s 2014 artbook Raunch.

Interestingly enough, Bruno Gmünder’s release of Endless Game was actually the volume’s world debut. The English-language edition of Endless Game was published in 2013, while the Japanese edition of the manga wasn’t collected until 2014. Endless Game originally began serialization in 2009 and was completed in 2012. I was particularly interested in the volume because prior to its publication I had only had the opportunity to read selections of Tagame’s short manga; all one-hundred-seventy-six pages of Endless Game are devoted to a single story about a young jock named Akira and his descent into prostitution.

GunjiTagame is particularly well-known for the hardcore BDSM themes found in his manga and artwork and he doesn’t shy away from rape scenarios in his work. The sex in Endless Game however, while still being hardcore and exceptionally explicit, is entirely consensual. Granted, Akira might not be aware of the extent to which he is being manipulated. But everything that he does, all of the filthy and degrading acts in which he participates, he does so willingly. Akira has an insatiable sexual appetite and even when he is being taken advantage of, he revels in it. There is still power play and intense sexual scenarios in Endless Game, but the extreme brutality seen in some of the shorter manga collected in The Passion of Gengoroh Tagame is missing, making this volume more approachable as a whole to a wider audience.

Gunji collects two of Tagame’s earlier works: the Gunji tetralogy (“Gunji,” “Scars,” “Flash Rain,” and “Pyre”), which was serialized between 2002 and 2003, as well as a slightly revised version of “The Ballad of Ôeyama” from 2004. Both of those manga had previously been released in Japanese and in French before the English translation was published in 2014. The Gunji series was serialized in the Muscle Man manga magazine. The anthology became a crossover of sorts between boys’ love and gay manga and attracted both female and male readers and creators. Because of this, Tagame deliberately incorporated more boys’ love-esque elements into the story. The men, while still very masculine, have considerably less body hair compared to some of his other works. “Gunji” was initially written as a one-shot story, but proved to be popular enough that Tagame followed it up with a serialized prequel. Whereas sex drove the plot in Endless Game, in the Gunji manga the plot drives the sex. The titular Gunji is a skilled sushi chef who is tormented by the sadistic son of his late master, whom he loved.

“The Ballad of Ôeyama” is a historical period piece set in 10th-century Japan. The short manga was inspired by the military commander Minamoto no Yorimitsu (also known as Raikō) and the legend of the oni Shuten Douji. In the afterword, Tagame notes that “The Ballad of Ôeyama” was also greatly influenced by Osamu Tezuka’s 1969 manga General Onimaru which he enjoyed reading as a child. (Even Tagame is influenced by Tezuka!) Raikō and two of his followers are sent to quell a demon which has been terrorizing the people of Ôeyama but find themselves captured instead. The demon, it turns out, is a shipwrecked foreigner who after being shunned for so long desires human contact and forcibly takes Raikō. Tagame’s reinterpretation of the Shuten Douji myth is spun into a surprisingly romantic tragedy. As with the Gunji tetralogy, while the erotic content is certainly important to “The Ballad of Ôeyama,” the story itself seems to take slightly more precedence in the development of the manga. Granted, Tagame himself would be the first to admit that his work is pornography and he is very candid about that fact. But one of the things that I appreciate the most about Tagame’s manga is that in addition to being gorgeously and viscerally drawn they also have interesting narratives and compelling psychological elements.

Random Musings: Cherry Bomb, Cinderseed, and Skyglass

Cherry BombBack in April 2014, Chromatic Press announced Cherry Bomb, its new imprint for mature readers. The intent was to provide an outlet for Sparkler Monthly‘s creators to explore a sexier side of their already established characters and stories with a goal to include original, unrelated material in the future as well. Cherry Bomb’s coordinator Lianne Sentar probably sums it up best: “We want our erotica to be emotionally cathartic, with a purpose and meaning behind some smoking content. If it’s all smut and no context, that’s not good enough – we demand both!”

Personally, I was very excited to learn about Cherry Bomb. The imprint launched with five titles: two short stories from Tokyo Demons, which I had previously read and enjoyed (I’ve written a little about my Tokyo Demons obsession in the past); two short comics from Awake; a Gauntlet side story; and Cinderseedthe prologue to the then upcoming illustrated novel Skyglass written by Jenn Grunigen with art by Mookie.

I’m rather ashamed to admit that after the initial Cherry Bomb announcement, I actually completely forgot about Cinderseed. But then came the even more recent announcement for Skyglass, which made its debut in June 2014 in Sparkler Monthly, Issue 11. The prose series was described as “throwing Ai Yazawa’s Nana, a space opera, and a really fresh take on post-apocalyptic Earth into a blender.” With a line like that, I knew that I needed to read Skyglass. It was at that point that I was also gently reminded that Cinderseed existed, and the lovely folk at Chromatic were kind enough to send along a review copy to me.

Sparkler Monthly, Issue 11Cinderseed opens with a girl floating through space, a fire elemental who has been ripped from the sun, her home, and confined within a human body. Understandably, she is somewhat confused and not particularly pleased by this turn of events and violently lashes out at the humans who would try to control her further. Soon after she meets Kri, who hopes that she would kill him, too. But as a Pleasure Intelligence, he doesn’t have much say in the direction his life is taking or even ownership over himself.

The two of them make an interesting contrast, similar to each other in some ways but vastly different in others. Neither are entirely human, but Kri has been designed by humans and his thoughts and behaviors are influenced by that. On the other hand, Phoenix’s actions and ways of thinking are often disconcertingly inhuman. (As they should be.) However, they both feel trapped, experience loneliness, and want to reclaim themselves and take control of their own lives. Phoenix, though, is much more likely to redirect her feelings towards revenge than Kri is.

Technically, while reading the prologue may not be absolutely necessary to follow what is going on in the novel proper, it does provide background information and additional insights into the world and characters of Skyglass, particularly the re/birth of Phoenix. Plus, it’s sexy. And hot, often literally so. (Phoenix is a fire elemental, after all.) Female-friendly, queer-friendly, and kink-friendly, too. The science fiction setting provides the opportunity for some particularly creative, audacious, and delightful, scenarios. And keeping with the intent of Cherry Bomb, the sex serves a purpose beyond titillation in Cinderseed; it’s integral both to who the characters are as people and to the plot itself.

One of the taglines for Skyglass is “Sex, elves, and rock ‘n’ roll.” The prologue covered the sex, but the elves (I promise, it makes perfect sense within the context of the story) and rock music don’t come into play until the first chapter with the introduction of the novel’s other main character Moss Wick—a half-human/half-elvish drummer who has…significant issues. And on top of those, Phoenix has attached herself to him. Unlike the prologue, which was written in the third person, the main narrative (or at least the initial chapter) alternates between Moss and Phoenix’s perspectives and is told in the first person, allowing the readers to get a very good sense of who they are. If Kri and Phoenix were opposites, Moss and Phoenix are even more so; their relationship should be quite interesting to watch unfold.

Even after only having read the prologue and the first chapter, I’m already loving Skyglass. The wait for the release of each new chapter will be torturous, but I’m definitely looking forward to reading more. The novel is shaping up to be smart and sexy and incredibly offbeat science fiction, with interesting and entertaining characters, a fascinating setting, and an engaging writing style. Personally, I think Cinderseed and Skyglass, not to mention the rest of the offerings from Chromatic Press, are well worth checking out.

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Random Musings: Cultures of Japanese Sake

Cultures of SakeI enjoy sake. I don’t have the opportunity to drink it very often, and I don’t really know much about it, but I do enjoy it and have an interest in it. Fortunately, I recently had the opportunity to hear Natsuki Kikuya, the founder of Museum of Sake, give her presentation “World of Sake: How It’s Created, and Where It’s Going.” Kikuya is from a family of sake brewers which is part of a collective in the Tōhoku region of northern Honshū. She currently works with chefs in the United Kingdom as a sake sommelier and is in the process of developing a sake documentary; her personal mission is to introduce and promote sake across Europe and the rest of the world. The craft and culture surrounding sake and sake brewing is broad and deep. A comparison can easily be made with wine culture, but Kikuya has found that in the West a “translator” is often needed for sake. Whereas wine has an extensive vocabulary already established to describe it, traditionally sake has had only two descriptors: dry and sweet.

SakeSo, what is sake? In Japanese, “sake” is a word that simply means “alcoholic beverage.” However, when the term is used in English, generally it is specifically referring to what is known in Japan as nihonshu. Sake is a fermented and filtered alcoholic beverage that is no more than 22% alcohol by volume. Typically, sake is brewed using only four ingredients: rice, water, yeast, and koji. Approximately 1% of Japan’s total rice production is devoted specifically to the brewing of sake. Though still edible, the rice used in sake is very different from table rice meant for consumption. When making sake the outside of the grains of rice is polished away, leaving behind the starches. In the highest quality sake, more than half of the rice is polished away. (In one exceptional case, only 7% of the rice remained after polishing.) Water is a particularly important ingredient as sake is made up of around 80% water. Water from different sources can significantly change the taste of the sake; generally water with softer qualities is desired. Up until the 20th century, sake production primarily relied on wild yeast, however more than 90% of sake fermentation now uses cultivated yeast. Koji is sake’s “magical ingredient”—a type of mold spore that transforms the starches in the rice into sugars for the yeast to ferment. Sake is often described as being “grown in breweries”; its quality very much depends on the human techniques involved and there is less emphasis placed on vintage as a result.

During her talk, Kikuya outlined a brief history of sake and its development in Japan. Sake had its beginnings over 2,500 years ago, originating as the “drink of the gods” and was associated with Shinto shrines. Between the 7th and 12th centuries, sake came under control of the court. During that time there were thirteen different grades of sake appropriate for the different ranks of nobility. In the Middle Ages the center of sake production moved to Kōfuku-ji in Nara and other Buddhist temples. At this point in history distilled spirits from abroad began to be introduced to Japan as well. The Edo period saw the rise of brewing specialists and the center of sake production once again moved, this time to Itami and Edo. Previously sake had been made year-round, but as the brewing techniques were refined during the Edo period it became a winter-specific process. The Edo period also saw the establishment of izakaya and the culture of eating outside of the home; sake was no longer just for nobles. Homebrewing was prohibited in 1899, mostly for tax reasons, and so sake brewing became more of a corporate affair during the Meiji era.

Sake Aisle

Oishinbo, A la Carte: Sake

The 20th century brought the “era of synthetic sake.” When rice was not readily available (during times of war, for example), techniques were developed to compensate for this lack, such as the introduction of syrups. The quality of the results were not always particularly good. And then there is sake industry today, which is focusing on modernization, localization, and globalization. This includes the creation of “new gen” sake, such as sparkling sake and sake with low alcohol content, as well as the use of sake in mixed drinks. At one point there were over 4,000 breweries in Japan. Sadly, the industry is dying and only around 1,200 breweries currently remain. Of those, the top twenty account for 80% of the sake production in Japan, however local breweries are beginning to gain increased support. There are several theories as to why interest in sake is declining in Japan: the continued Westernization of the country, the aging and shrinking of the population, and the fact that younger generations simply don’t seem to be drinking sake. Although the sake industry is still dominated by men, Kikuya knows of at least ten women heads of breweries. Interestingly enough, in addition to Japan, the United States is also a leading producer of sake and currently has seven to eight breweries of its own.

Prior to the Kikuya’s talk, my knowledge of sake had primarily been gleaned from what I myself had tasted as well as from manga like Tetsu Kariya and Akira Hanasaki’s Oishinbo (especially the volume Oishinbo, A la Carte: Sake) and Masayuki Ishikawa’s Moyasimon. I was quite happy to discover that those series have actually provided me with a fairly strong introduction to and basic understanding of sake and the sake industry, including some of the more unusual and interesting historical tidbits. So, even if you don’t have the chance to take advantage of the knowledge of a sake expert, picking up a copy of Oishinbo, A la Carte: Sake and following it up with a bit of Moyasimon (the manga or the anime) is not a bad place to start. (Toko Kawai’s short boys’ love series The Scent of Apple Blossoms also features a sake brewer, though I haven’t read it yet to be able to say how educational the manga might be.) For those interested in learning more about sake, Kikuya’s Museum of Sake is also worth a look, as is Discovery UK’s series Discovering Sake. And sometimes the best way to learn about something is to simply experience it for yourself. Have a taste!

Random Musings: Toronto Comic Arts Festival 2014

TCAF 2014 Poster

©Michael DeForge

Last year I attended the Toronto Comic Arts Festival (TCAF) for the very first time. It was an event that I had wanted to go to for years and I had such a fabulous time that I immediately began planning to return. TCAF is the only comics festival that I have ever been to so I can’t really compare it to others, but it is fantastic and I can’t recommend it enough. I certainly plan on going every that I possibly can at this point.

Last year I was only there for the main festival on Saturday and Sunday, but this year I pulled into Toronto on Thursday evening which gave me plenty of time to explore the city itself. After figuring out how to use Toronto’s streetcar system (I’ve never ridden a streetcar before) my “early” arrival allowed me to attend the opening reception of Toshio Saeki’s art exhibition at Narwhal Projects. Saeki is described as the “Godfather of Japanese Eroticism.” The gallery was a showing of a selection of his original drawings and silkscreen prints. They were beautiful, disconcerting, erotic, and surreal works. I’m very glad I had the opportunity to see them in person.

Friday was my “free” day in Toronto. While I was wandering all over the city, I made sure to make my way down to The Beguiling Books & Arts. Last year I got there a few minutes before it closed, so I was looking forward to spending a more reasonable amount of time exploring the store this year. The Beguiling is one of the best comic stores I’ve ever been to. It has a fantastic selection of materials and a marvelous staff. I highly recommend anyone visiting Toronto to check it out. The event that I was looking forward to on Friday was the Manga Mixer Night hosted by Sparkler Monthly at the TRANZAC Club. I sadly missed out on the gathering last year, and one of my TCAF goals for this year was to overcome some of my anxieties and to try to be a little more social, so to the mixer I went! And I’m glad that I did. I had a good time and Kuriousity‘s Lissa Pattillo and I were beautiful wallflowers together. We had a very nice conversation about manga, blogging, and TCAF.

Over the course of the festival I had the opportunity to briefly meet several other of my online friends in person: manga translator and all around awesome person Jocelyne Allen, my fellow Manga Bookshelf cohort Sean Gaffney, and the great A-run Chey who somehow managed to pick me out of a crowd. I certainly made some progress this year in the socialization department, but I still didn’t have the nerve to introduce myself to Deb Aoki and Erica Friedman, who were both kept very busy moderating various panels, or to Vertical’s Ed Chavez even though I was standing next to each of them at some point during the festival. Next time I’ll make it happen! I know there were at least a few other manga and comics bloggers at TCAF—like Brigid Alverson and Alexander Hoffman, among others—but I missed them, too.

Ureshidaruma

“Ureshidaruma” by Toshio Saeki

Saturday was when the main festival actually began. Last year I didn’t get to spend as much time in the exhibitor area as I would have liked, so I got up bright and early on Saturday in order to visit as many artists and publishers as I could first thing in the morning. This turned out to be a good decision, because the exhibitor area seemed to only get busier and busier throughout the day. I couldn’t see everything before the Saturday panels started, but by the end of the day I managed to visit most of the tables that I wanted. Sadly, there were a few things that I was hoping to get that were sold out by the time I was able to make my way to the artists’ respective tables. But at least that meant that the creators were doing well, and I was very glad to see their success. While I went into TCAF knowing there were certain things that I wanted to pick up, I also allowed myself the opportunity to splurge on a few random items that I hadn’t even heard of before and discovered some great comics in the process. And of course, I also managed to compile a rather lengthy list of things that I wanted to check out later, too. I continue to be very impressed by both the quality and variety of creators and art at TCAF.

I attended four panels on Saturday. “What Do Women Want? Writing Comics for a Female Audience,” was moderated by Chromatic Press’ Lianne Sentar and featured Laura Lee Gulledge, Kate Leth, Joan Reilly, and Noelle Stevenson. It was an excellent panel looking at men and women and masculinity and femininity in comics and the North American comics industry. Generally, comics readers are assumed by the industry to be both male and straight and so that audience is the one that has traditionally been catered to. There have always been female readers but recently there have been more demands for a wider variety in comics, perhaps due in part to what the panelists called the “Sailor Moon Generation.” These are the women, and men, who were exposed to female-friendly Sailor Moon when they were younger and who are now old enough to create the types of comics that they want to see or are in the position to support and encourage other upcoming creators who want something more than the industry’s default. The key to the discussion was the importance of variety in comics and that great stories will attract all sorts of readers regardless of their intended audience.

“Comics Design and History” focused on the physical design, production, and presentation of graphic novels. The panel was moderated by Chris Randle and included designers Tracy Hurren from Drawn & Quarterly, Fawn Lau from Viz Media, and Chip Kidd, who has designed books for Vertical and PictureBox among many other publishers. They each chose three book designs to discuss and talked about some of the decisions that go into the design process. For example, one of the first steps when a comic is being translated into another language is to determine whether the original cover is suited for the new demographic. Unflipped manga has the potential to be accidentally displayed with the back cover as the front, so Kidd very deliberately created a design for Bat-Manga!: The Secret History of Batman in Japan that was interesting and informative regardless of which direction the book was facing. One of the series that Lau discussed was Taiyo Matsumoto’s Sunny, talking about the choices that went into its deluxe presentation. One of the biggest challenges in book design is achieving a balance between production values and the budget, and then finding a printer that can actually produce it.

Queer Mixer presented by MASSIVE

TCAF 2014 Queer Mixer presented by MASSIVE

Considering the fantastic lineup—Jess Fink, Michael DeForge, C. Spike Trotman, HamletMachine, Graham Kolbeins, Katie Skelly, Ryan Sands—I should have known that “Contemporary Erotic Comics” was going to be a popular panel. It was held in one of the smallest venues and was completely packed, but it was absolutely worth squeezing into the crowd. Chris Randle was the moderator for this panel as well. The panelists discussed their first experiences with erotic comics (manga and doujinshi were frequently cited), the challenges of working in and making a living off of pornography, and some of the current trends in sex comics as a genre. The panel’s emphasis on the need for variety and different perspectives dovetailed nicely with parts of the “What Do Women Want?” discussion. Kolbeins, who has been critical to the efforts to bring gay manga to English-reading audiences, was able to provide fascinating insights into some of the difference between Japanese and Western porn comics industries. In Japan, pornography is often meant to exclusively be pornography; adding any sort of message or social commentary can be seen as watering it down. On the other hand, in the West sex comics often allow creators to address issues other than sex; as long as certain plot requirements are met, they are more or less free to do whatever they want with their comics.

The last panel that I attended on Saturday, moderated by Deb Aoki, was “Women in Manga!” The panel included all of this year’s mangaka who were featured guests at TCAF: Moyoco Anno, est em, and Akira Himekawa (A. Honda and S. Nagano, a two-women team). All four of them admitted that they brought their work along with them on the trip; they may be traveling, but they still had deadlines to meet. Even though they are women, they said that they are largely treated the same as their male counterparts when working in seinen. (In many cases, readers don’t even realize that they are women!) However, working in shounen used to present more hurdles, though it’s not as difficult now as it once was. In the end, readers care more about the content than the mangaka’s gender. Regardless of the genre or demographic that they are working in, the panelists normally receive respect. The exception to this would be boys’ love which is somewhat looked down upon. est em felt this was because that instead of the more usual manga contests which award the creators with a series, boys’ love mangaka often become professionals through their doujinshi and this is seen as a sneaky, backdoor way of breaking into the manga industry.

One of the heartbreaking things about TCAF is that there is so much great programming that it’s impossible to attend it all and hard decisions must be made. Sadly, “Women in Manga!” conflicted with the “Queering Comics – LGBTQ identity in comics and graphic novels” panel which I really wanted to attend. Since I couldn’t make it to the queer comics panel, I decided to show up for the TCAF Queer Mixer at Buddies in Bad Times Theatre instead. Now, I don’t generally go to things like parties and mixers, but I was enticed by the promise of on-stage presentations and interviews. And I wasn’t disappointed. Anne Ishii of MASSIVE made a fabulously entertaining host and more than a dozen of the queer creators who were at TCAF this year were spotlighted as part of the event. I was already familiar with some of them and their work, but others were new to me. And I’ll admit, it was pretty awesome to just be in the same room with a bunch of other amazing queer folk. One of the best things about TCAF is how marvelously inclusive it is, and the annual Queer Mixer is representative of that.

TCAF 2014 Haul

My 2014 TCAF haul

Then came Sunday, the last day of the main festival. Also known as “Ash’s day of manga.” I made it to three events, each one focusing on the festival’s featured mangaka. First thing in the morning was Moyoco Anno’s Spotlight with Ed Chavez. Probably not too surprisingly, Vertical’s releases of Anno’s manga—Insufficient Direction, Sakuran, and the soon to be published In Clothes Called Fat—were used as a jumping off point for the discussion. Anno talked about her approach to writing seinen, choosing to focus on what she as a woman can bring to the demographic rather than trying to compete in the same areas where men could do just as well. As for shoujo, she doesn’t feel that it has changed much over the last twenty years; it still follows the same unrealistic tropes, especially in regards to love. She feels that the large gap between real relationships and how they are portrayed in manga can sometimes be problematic for readers. When asked, she sweetly replied that her favorite character to draw was Director-kun, her husband Hideaki Anno (who also happened to be in attendance).

Those who stayed for the entire Moyoco Anno Spotlight were at a slight disadvantage when it came to the signing that immediately followed. I was the first person put in the rush line for her signing, but sadly I still didn’t get the chance to personally meet Anno. However, this did mean that I had time to walk over to Toronto’s Japan Foundation in time for Akira Himekawa in Conversation. The two women, who are best known for their Zelda manga, are celebrating their thirtieth year of collaboration and were being interviewed by Deb Aoki. They were both incredibly engaging and enthusiastic about their work. I actually haven’t read very much of Himekawa’s manga, but I’ll certainly be making a point to now. And after seeing examples of some of their current series, I really hope that more of their manga will be licensed in English in the future. I love the Zelda franchise, but Himekawa’s recent work, much of it in full-color, simply looks gorgeous. While I was at the Japan Foundation, I was also able to see the Seiji Ozawa Photography Exhibition—a showcase of archival materials focusing on the young, Japanese music director of the Toronto Symphony Orchestra from 1965 to 1969—which was great.

The Japan Foundation also sponsored an interview with Yohei Sadoshima, whose literary agency represents Moyoco Anno among many other creators, about the future of the manga industry. Unfortunately this conflicted with the est em Spotlight. As a huge fan of est em, there was no way I was going to miss her panel. Erica Friedman was the moderator and it actually ended up being one of the best interviews that I attended at TCAF this year, making it a great way to end the festival. est em got her start as a professional mangaka through boys’ love after being approached by an editor who was intrigued by her doujinshi. Interestingly enough, she hadn’t actually read much mainstream boys’ love, which may partly explain why her manga tends to be somewhat unusual. Although est em is probably best know for her atypical boys love manga, her current series—Golondrina and Ippo—are both seinen manga. I think that Viz is probably my only hope, but someone please license Golondrina for a print release! est em explains that the reason her work is quirky is because it incorporates what she personally finds to be beautiful or interesting. She especially enjoys exploring and working with themes that address the spaces in between two opposing forces. (Over at Okazu, Erica recently posted an excellent and much more thorough write-up of the est em Panel at TCAF.)

So there you have it! And that’s just scratching the surface of this year’s festival experience. In short: TCAF 2014 was phenomenal. The guests were amazing. The programming was fantastic. I hope that I’ll be able to go again next year. That’s the plan, anyway!

Random Musings: Spotlight on Kaita Murayama

Kaita Murayama Self-Portrait, 1916Kaita Murayama, born in 1896, was a Japanese artist, poet, and author. He was best known for his work as an artist, and especially for the originality and vibrancy of his paintings. Although some of his writings were printed while he was alive, most of Murayama’s poetry and prose was collected and published by his friends after his death in 1919 of tuberculosis. Very little has actually be written about Murayama in English. Likewise, very little of his work has been translated. This is unfortunate because both Murayama and his writings are fascinating.

Writing the Love of BoysI had previously encountered a few of Murayama’s paintings, but it wasn’t until I read Jeffrey Angles’ academic work Writing the Love of Boys: Origins of Bishōnen Culture in Modernist Japanese Literature (released by the University of Minnesota Press in 2011) that I discovered Murayama as an author. This isn’t terribly surprising as only two of Murayama’s short stories have so far been released in English in their entirety—”The Bust of the Beautiful Young Salaino” and “The Diabolical Tongue”—both of which are discussed at length in Writing the Love of Boys and both of which were translated by Angles. Writing the Love of Boys is a particularly interesting examination of the portrayal of male-male desire in Japanese literature during the early twentieth century with a specific focus on Kaita Murayama, Edogawa Rampo, and Taruho Inagaki. After reading Angles’ translated excerpts and analyses of Murayama’s work, and because I wasn’t previously aware of Murayama’s writing, my curiosity was piqued; I wanted to experience his stories for myself.

ModanizumuThe first short story by Murayama to be translated and published in English was “The Bust of the Beautiful Young Salaino,” which was included in Modanizumu: Modernist Fiction from Japan, 1913–1938. The volume, edited by William J. Tyler and released by the University of Hawai’i Press in 2008, is the first major anthology of Japanese modernist short stories to be translated and analyzed in English. “The Bust of the Beautiful Young Salaino” isn’t a well-known story in Japan. However, it is the first work included in Modanizumu and is noted as being representative of early, experimental modernist prose. It incorporates themes of same-sex desire and the spectacular, both of which were not at all uncommon in modernist Japanese literature. Murayama wrote “The Bust of the Beautiful Salaino” between 1913 and 1914, soon before making the decision to leave Kyoto to study art in Tokyo, but it wasn’t actually published until 1921. The story is short, barely over two pages long, but it leaves a strong impression. In it a young man is wandering through a city at night when he has a vision of the head of Salaino, a beautiful youth whom he loves, after which he is confronted by an apparition of Leonardo da Vinci. Murayama’s writing is highly visual and descriptive, almost hallucinatory, and intensely erotic. This atmospheric quality can be seen beginning with the very first line—”It was a night thick with yearning, a yearning so viscous that it was as if dark purple and precious black liqueurs had replaced the air and covered the earth.”—and continues through to the very end. “The Bust of the Beautiful Young Salaino” is a lush, surreal, and dreamlike tale, but it can also be read as an allegory challenging the dominance of Western art.

Kaiki: Uncanny Tales from Japan, Volume 3: Tales of the MetropolisThe second of Murayama’s stories to be translated into English was “The Diabolical Tongue.” It was included in Tales of the Metropolis, the third and final volume of Kurodahan Press’ series Kaiki: Uncanny Tales from Japan, released in 2012. Kaiki, which collects weird and supernatural Japanese short stories, is edited by Higashi Masao, who specializes in kaidan—tales of the strange and mysterious. “The Diabolical Tongue” was published in 1915 and was one of Murayama’s last works to overtly deal with male-male desire, though it is perhaps not as obviously homoerotic as “The Bust of the Beautiful Salaino.” It reminded me quite a bit of some of Edogawa Rampo’s stories, which makes sense as Murayama was one of Rampo’s direct inspirations. “The Diabolical Tongue” was a precursor of ero guro nonsense, a literary movement which came into prominence in Japan in the 1920s and 1930s. The story incorporates themes which are frequently found in ero guro—decadence, eroticism, mystery—as well as archetypal elements of the bizarre, grotesque, and taboo. Like “The Bust of the Beautiful Salaino,” an important part of “The Diabolical Tongue” focuses on a young man who wanders a city at night in search of his desires. He satisfies his unusual appetite and cravings by eating stranger and stranger things until he is finally driven to cannibalism. He is particularly drawn towards beautiful young men and women, imaging how exquisite they will taste. Unlike “The Bust of the Beautiful Salaino,” which ends in ecstasy, “The Diabolical Tongue” is fundamentally a tragic and horrifying tale that begins and ends in death. It is deliciously disconcerting, very much in the same vein as the ero guro literature which would soon follow.

Personally, I would love to see more of Murayama’s work translated into English and to read more of his poetry (examples of which can be found in Writing the Love of Boys) as well as his prose. I am aware and do understand how unlikely that is to happen. Poetry is notoriously difficult to translate and the demand for century-old short stories, as much as I and others would be interested in reading them, is generally low. However, I am glad that “The Bust of the Beautiful Salaino” and “The Diabolical Tongue” have been translated. The two stories share some commonalities but are ultimately very different from each other, exhibiting the versatility and range of Murayama’s creative output.