As I was sorting through the screenshots for Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun (Monthly Girls Nozaki-kun) I found myself first smirking, then chuckling, laughing, and then finally guffawing so much that I had to rewatch one of the scenes just to provide some kind of closure. It’s that kind of series: where in context it’s funny but in isolation, it’s perhaps even more so.
grinning since the moment the episode started
It starts humbly enough with that most stalwart of high school romance tropes: the confession. In this case by the adorably diminutive Chiyo Sakura to the tall and stoic Umetarou Nozaki. Confusion abounds when he thinks she is asking for an autograph because she’s a fan of his shoujo manga. That’s the hook at least, in reality the series relies on two core jokes that the rest orbit around.
On paper Outbreak Company is, frankly, bobbins. An otaku is transported to a fantasy realm of elven maids, busty werewolves and a pint-sized queen in order to spread the otaku way to them. But of course paper is exactly where it started with a series of ongoing light novels and manga preceding the twelve episode anime which is not only funny in a dorky, self-aware kind of way but also surprisingly sensitive to the panoply of topics it touched upon.
The first it tackles is cultural imperialism: the male protagonist Shinichi, and by extension Japan through his, what else, busty BL-loving JSDF aide, are shown to be sensitive to steamrollering their ideals and morals on the populace of the fantasy realm of Eldant. This creates some oddly atypical situations such as when the diminutive queen verbally and almost physically attacks the lead half-elf maid, a situation defused not by posturing and proselytising but by a measure of understanding. From a western point of view this very pointed approach to diplomacy could be taken as a dig towards the jingoism of real-world recent conflicts and occupations but is more likely aimed inward and towards Japan’s recent past.
Back before I can coherently remember I watched a lot of the anime that made it on to British television. The mid nineties was before DVDs were widely available and the internet was squeezed through telephone lines. I was clueless but took what I could get which at the time was Manga Entertainment's (UK) catalogue of the time. Beyond the obvious Akira and Ghost in the Shell, this consisted mostly of late eighties and early nineties OVAs. Still aeons away from mainstream television, analogue satellite was the only way to watch them. The Sci-Fi channel was just starting out so it was late night on Bravo the majority of these were shown, and it was blind luck if I managed to know they were on prior to airing.
Genocyber was not the first one I saw and certainly not the most memorable, but individual scenes stuck in my head, mostly thanks to my then very squeamish nature. In the interests of exploring both my and anime's past, I decided to rewatch a lot of the shows which, subconsciously at least, formed the foundations for my current viewing preferences.
Coming from the husband and wife team that includes Brian Ashcraft of Kotaku and WIRED fame, Japanese Schoolgirl Confidential charts the rise of schoolgirls in Japan from background to brand, exploring the details and influences that surround them. Printed in a stubby, easily held format, the book is littered with photographs and illustrations that support the content, but is also adorned with a variety of kitschy, gaudy paraphernalia like faux-diamond bordered hearts as image captions and heart stickers in the corners. The format is fitting for the subject matter, keying into the peppy and sparkly façade, but completely at odds with the variety and veracity of content that the book offers from start to finish. The level of research, care and attention that has been put in is gratifying for a book that could easily have been as vapid and frivolous as one assumes the eponymous schoolgirls are.
the writing is fluid and encourages extended reading with stand out chapters on fashion and the history of the uniform
The greratest triumph of the book is in debunking that mentality: that the schoolgirls, decked out in iconic sailor-suit school uniforms, are a product carried by a society that has a borderline hysterical lust for cute characters and intense consumerism. Subverting that impression to show the girls as drivers behind many of the sea-changes that happened in fashion and product development to moulding gender issues is cleverly done and achieved through example more than a stolid recounting of facts. The book is divided into eight chapters that begin by covering the history of the most obvious trait - the uniform - then moving on to idols, film, magazines, art and wrapping up with video games, manga and anime.
Understating Kimi ni Todoke would be to say that it is saccharine: one cannot help but grin moronically at the continuing quest of Sawako Kuronuma to ingratiate herself with her school mates. Afflicted with the curse of rumour, she starts the series alone and subject to spurious tales of bringing curses upon those that slight her and it is only through the attention of the affable Shota Kazehaya that she is able to propel herself from quiet and alone to quiet with friends. It's deftly done, especially in three episodes, and with at least two thirds of the series remaining the story is sure to evolve well.
The greatest problem that the series could face is becoming mired in petty backbiting
Beginning at the start of the summer holiday, the set up is perfect for a "Grease" style tale of warm-weather romance and inevitable school alienation. But the story defies expectations and skips ahead to the following term, awkward greetings and new teachers in tow. From there Sawako succeeds in making friends and, if the fourth episode preview is anything to go by, at least one enemy: gaining the affections of a popular figure was always going to raise someone's ire. It is a simple story well told and it is the pace and legitimacy of the characters, especially the painfully adorable Sawako, that shoot this otherwise slow burner well-above it's more sedate contemporaries.
