The pseudo-feminist shojo lead

If there’s one gripe that fans have with shojo manga, it’s the pervasiveness of weak female leads. Most readers are turned off by female protagonists who are romance-obsessed, average in looks and intelligence, and who have a tendency to be clumsy or cry a lot. In recent years, many shojo romance manga have made attempts to correct the trend of boy-crazy, passive heroines by replacing them with more assertive, independent females who have largely been embraced by the fandom. Characters such as Ouran High School Host Club‘s Haruhi and Maid-sama‘s Misaki are appreciated because of their no-nonsense attitudes, intelligence, and most of all, the fact that they are not interested in romance whatsoever. Yet, I seem to feel differently about these characters than most fans do. While characters like Haruhi and Misaki, along with Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun‘s Shizuku are considered strong female leads, they are actually more bothersome to me than their boy-crazy counterparts. One of the most common traits about this type of character is that they are often emotionally detached. Thus, not only is this the reason they’ve never had romantic feelings, but it also results in these female characters ‘going with the flow’ of their surroundings because they don’t care either way. Thus, their indifference leads them to be ‘swept off their feet’ by the guy who pursues them, rendering them passive despite their supposed ‘strength.’

Of course, boy-crazy shojo leads often end up being swept off their feet too – but since they’re interested in love and getting a boyfriend, it’s more problematic in my opinion when it happens to a ‘pseudo-feminist’ shojo lead because it’s practically against her will. But there are other problematic aspects of this type of character that disturb me even more. While so many people find the typical no-nonsense, ‘strong’ female character to be a refreshing change, I actually find these characters to be boring. I’ve written before about my problems with Haruhi’s character – that her blasé attitude toward the people and events around her made me indifferent to her character, and thus I ended up more interested in the male characters in the series just as I would have if she were a more stereotypical plain shojo lead. And while I wouldn’t call Maid-sama‘s Misaki ‘boring,’ she still somewhat annoys me because of the way the series stuffs the fact that Misaki is perfect at everything down the audience’s throats, resulting in Misaki’s strength feeling forced. Her misandry also makes her come across as ‘bitchy,’ which is bothersome because of media’s tendency to turn strong women into bitches.

And then there’s Tonari no Kaibutsu-kun‘s Shizuku. Shizuku’s probably the most extreme example of the independent shojo lead – she is only focused on studying, has no close friends, and has a brutually honest tongue. Many fans like Shizuku because she voices her honest opinions about the people around her. But something about Shizuku feels extremely robotic to me. While many fans admire the fact that Shizuku places so much importance in her schoolwork, it’s troublesome to me that when female characters are smart they are often social outcasts, as though it’s impossible for smart women to make friends on their own. Even after Shizuku tells Haru she loves him, I feel little of her emotional investment in Haru or her relationship with him. When she says that Haru has changed her world, I’m left unconvinced because Haru hadn’t been in Shizuku’s life for very long, and he had done little but be a nuisance towards her. I almost felt like she only said this line because the author ‘programmed’ her to; rather than out of genuine character development. And while fans admire Shizuku for standing up to Haru (such as when Haru tells her not to see his brother anymore and she tells him no), her motivations for doing so are left unclear, making her character feel undeveloped and unrealistic in my opinion. Thus, Shizuku’s lack of personal investment in anything leaves me uninterested in becoming invested in her.

Yet there are other harsh shojo leads in the vein of Shizuku who feel genuine, and have grabbed my attention. The best example is Maria from A Devil and Her Love Song, a beautiful and intelligent transfer student who has a tendency to call people out on the kind façades they put on. While Maria says things that are truly cutting (the first thing she says to her new classmates is that she got kicked out of her previous school for beating up a teacher), she feels like a fully-dimensional character because there are tinges of sorrow to her. No matter how indifferent or cruel Maria may appear to be on the surface, it’s made clear that she wants to have friends and dislikes herself. It’s clear that she is trying to become a better person by learning to love even the people who scorn her, which has endeared her to me. More than focusing on romance, Maria’s personal struggles are what’s most important so far in A Devil and Her Love Song, which sets her apart from Shizuku. Rather than treating her bluntness as a sign of strength, Maria’s callousness is both her greatest blessing and curse, which allows her to feel more well-rounded. And while I know that there will be many fans who disagree with me for arguing that ‘no-nonsense’ characters like Haruhi and Shizuku are dull or passive, I think it’s important to question why a female character who is isn’t interested in romance or who is ‘aggressive’ should automatically be labeled strong.

The flow of time in shojo manga

After marrying Naoki, Kotoko struggles (but ultimately succeeds) in becoming a nurse.

There are many things shojo manga does extremely well. Crafting multi-layered characters, engrossing romances, and addictive melodrama are all staples of the best shojo on the market today. But one element that is often overlooked that stands out to me is the way shojo subtly handles the passage of time. While many shojo series seem to be stuck in the golden years of high school, several of my favorite manga take place over many years of the protagonists’ lives. This allows us to get an all-too rare glimpse at the adult phases of life – careers, marriage, and the start of a family. One of the very things I love most about Itazura na Kiss is how much time passed over the course of the series. At the start of Naoki and Kotoko’s rocky relationship, both charcaters are seniors in high school. They quickly enter college and are faced with important life decisions – especially Naoki, who despite his father’s expectations for him to take over his toy company, starts to dream of becoming a doctor. But I think watching Kotoko’s career path is even more fulfilling – because for so long in the series her attentions are only focused on Naoki. When Kotoko fails to graduate on time and considers dropping out of school, Naoki scolds her for shirking her responsibilities and never giving any serious consideration to her future, she ultimately decides to become a nurse because her dream is to help Naoki. Through the passage of time we can see the characters mature and not only overcome their foibles, but also learn how to accept responsibility.

Photos and Ann’s iconic hourglass shows the importance of the passage of time throughout the series.

One series in which the passage of time, especially the passing of the seasons, is especially important is Sand Chronicles. The series follows main character Ann from ages 12-26, and each chapter is given a title using the Ann’s age and what season it is (e.g.: Winter, Age 18: First Star). The seasons add to the mood and forbode important events, such as the death of Ann’s mother during the snowy winter or the end of Ann and Fuji’s relationship amidst the late fall trees. But the passage of time is most clearly represented through Ann’s hourglass, which was given to her by her mother at the beginning of the series. After her mother commits suicide, Ann breaks the hourglass, but it returns to her hands when Daigo buys her a new one because she shouldn’t ever let go of the things that are most important to her. On that day, Ann makes a wish: that she and Daigo will be together for the rest of their lives. But when Ann’s depression from her mother’s death begins to consume her, she breaks things off with Daigo and puts the hourglass away – a symbol for Ann being stuck in time. Their decision to live by the sand once Ann overcomes her depression and reconciles with Daigo is meaningful because it shows that time has started for her once more.

But series don’t need to take place over years and years to feel the passage of time. One series that makes use of a detailed account of time is Red River by Chie Shinohara. In Red River, 15-year-old Yuri Suzuki is sucked into 14th Century Anatolia. Shinohara intergrates real-life historical figures such as Kail Mursili, prince of the Hittites, and Egypt’s Nefertiti. Historically-accurate events such as the death of Zannanza (Kail’s brother and a prince of the Hittites, who became pharaoh of Egypt but was killed before he could take the throne) give me great respect for the series. But the series in which the flow of time feels the most authentic is without a doubt Nana. Cell phone conversations are given exact dates and times, enveloping the series within the real world.  Beginning at volume twelve, the series occassionally flash-forwards several years into the future, giving the audience clues of what will happen during the present. We Were There also uses this technique after it’s main couple goes their separate ways, and the audience is thrust five years into the future to figure out little by little what happened to each character. Thus, there are many interesting ways to use the passage of time within a series to make it feel unique. Overall, I think the main reason I have such a fondness for series which take place over a long portion of the cast’s lives is because it allows the audience to grow even more attached to the characters and their personal stories. Watching characters grow over a specified period of time makes them feel real, as though their stories are taking place somewhere else right as we speak.

Power and gender in Kamisama Kiss

There are many problematic power dynamics presented in shojo anime and manga. Too many series feature weak, passive girls in romantic relationships with jerky or outright abusive boyfriends, often placing female characters in a subservient role. The currently-running Kamisama Kiss anime and manga has impressed many fans with it’s willful heroine Nanami, who becomes a kami (deity) to a local shrine after her dad leaves her (and his debts) behind. On the surface, Kamisama Kiss subverts the traditional power dynamics intertwined with gender relations by featuring Nanami becoming the ‘master’ to her shinishi (a creature who is controlled by a kami) Tomoe. I’d like to further explore in which ways the series subverts and reinforces stereotypical gender relations –  in many cases, at the same time.

Many bloggers pointed out that right from the start, Kamisama Kiss subverts traditional shojo cliches by having Nanami steal a kiss from Tomoe, while in most series it is the female protagonist who typically has a kiss stolen from her. But as I have mentioned before, it’s interesting that when a female character initiates a kiss, her intentions are not romantic or sexual – instead, she kisses Tomoe in order for him to become her shinishi and guardian. Thus, because the kiss was not romantic in it’s nature, Nanami’s ‘purity’ is upheld. And although Nanami is put in a position of power as kami of the shrine, it is interesting that she becomes the kami of love and relationships, which has always been associated more with women.  Another way in which traditional gender roles are upheld is that Tomoe, as a fox yokai who is far more powerful than Nanami, becomes her protector. The reason Nanami kisses Tomoe and enters the shinishi contract in the first place is because she is being attacked by a yokai who steals the souls of humans and needs him to fend off the monster. And as a newcomer to the shrine, Nanami relies on Tomoe for everything from learning how to use ofuda (strips of paper used to write spells) to catching the bus on time. Tomoe himself, though a wild fox yokai, is very much like most ‘bad boy’ love interests in shojo manga: he has a mysterious past and can be cruel to Nanami (often to teach her a lesson). In these ways, stereoypical gender representations are reinforced.

However, it’s been pointed out that while on the surface Tomoe may rescue Nanami, ultimately Nanami always ends up saving herself, thus neutralizing Tomoe’s status as her protector and setting Nanami apart from the typical ‘damsel in distress.’ For example, in volume six, when Nanami is attacked by a spider yokai at school Tomoe is the one who kills the monster. However, the school becomes thick with miasma from the yokai, and Nanami is ultimately the one who is able to purify the monster despite Tomoe’s stronger powers.  There are also several instances where Nanami ends up saving Tomoe. In volume four, Tomoe gets kidnapped by a sea yokai and is saved by Nanami when she returns to the past to retrieve the eye Tomoe stole from him. Thus, Tomoe and Nanami are constantly switching positions in their power dynamic. However,  as the series progresses, Nanami finds herself in situations where she can’t rescue herself more often, and ends up relying more on Tomoe (such as when Nanami is sent to the Land of the Dead in volume eight). While this may seem to suggest that the series is regressing to traditional gender dynamics, I am not bothered because much has been done to show that Nanami always makes an effort to get herself out of sticky situations, which is more than can be said for the stereotypical passive female character. And more importantly, the emphasis of the series is clearly to show that Nanami and Tomoe are strongest when they work together. As a kami, Nanami is becoming more confident in her powers, while Tomoe is beginning to realize that humans aren’t as weak as he thought they are. Because of her influence in his life, the shrine feels warmer, and Tomoe is slowly learning to trust Nanami not to abandon him as his previous master Mikage did once before.

In terms of the growing romance between Nanami and Tomoe, however, is where the ever-changing power dynamics must come into question. By having Nanami kiss Tomoe first, it would seem as though Nanami has the upper-hand in their relationship. But I would argue that Kamisama Kiss upholds traditional gender relations in all areas concerning romance. Nanami is the first to realize she loves Tomoe, and when she hypothetically asks what he would do if she fell for him, Tomoe tells her that he “will not fall in love with a human.” Nanami is heartbroken, and at this point any romantic relationship between the two of them is completely in Tomoe’s hands. Kurama, a tengu, warns Tomoe that Nanami may fall for him simply because she’s a young woman, which perpetuates stereotypes about teenage girls being shallow and boy-crazy. And when the shinishi contract between Tomoe and Nanami is broken in volume eight after he rescues her from the Land of the Dead, it is up to Tomoe, not Nanami, to reinitiate it. He tells her not to automatically assume that he’ll be her shinishi again, and he uses the time to wonder why he can’t stop thinking about Nanami even though their contract has been cut off. And while Nanami had no fears in forcing a kiss from Tomoe at the beginning of the series, now that she has romantic feelings for him she doesn’t do anything, upholding traditional gender roles that only males should be romantic agressors, especially in physical terms. It is Tomoe who kisses Nanami in her sleep in order to become her shinishi again, undermining the atypical power dynamic praised at the series’ start. But is this enough to ruin the series for me? Not at all – I’ve enjoyed series with far more problematic gender roles, and I still can admire Nanami for being cheerful and hardworking without coming across as annoying. More importantly, my interest in the series has grown now that we’re beginning to learn more about Tomoe’s past. Yet while the decision to have Tomoe become the romantic initiator may be chalked up as a female fantasy it is important not dismiss this, and instead think about how deeply-embedded such a female fantasy is in our society and why. So while Kamisama Kiss may subvert traditional gender dynamics in some ways, in other ways it holds on tight.

Shojo around the blogosphere

Hey guys, I just wanted to let you know of a few recent shojo-inspired pieces around the blogosphere. First is part one of a comic entitled “Shojo Reactions,” a very relatable story about what it’s like reading shojo manga! The piece was drawn and written by my friend Lucretia, and I hope you guys like it!

Next we have “I’ll kiss you and you’ll fall in love with me – Ramblings on Shoujo,” a conversation between Foxy Lady Ayame and myself over at the beautiful world. We discuss the presence of the ‘stolen kiss’ in shojo anime and manga, and how it is often problematic. Our conversation was inspired by a great post over at Tokyo Jupiter comparing kisses in the first episodes of three currently airing shojo series.

I hope you guys enjoy these pieces!

The art of the matter

Normally, I don’t care much about whether a series has great art or not. I’ve written before that it bothers me when fans ignore great series because they have unique or ‘ugly’ artstyles. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate good art, and while shojo art often gets criticized for being ‘simple’ and that it ‘all looks alike,’ I find myself drawn to the textbook shojo aesthetic, which often features frills, flowers, pretty girls and even prettier boys.  In particular, there are some artists whose style I find myself drawn to.  Here are some of the shojo artists whose art I really love:

Wataru Yoshizumi: Some people might argue that Wataru Yoshizumi’s art is textbook shojo. And while I wouldn’t disagree, I feel that Yoshizumi does textbook shojo better than anyone else. I love her character designs – her boys are handsome, while her girls are feminine with large eyes yet still not sugary to the level of Arina Tanemura’s characters. Sometimes, there’s nothing wrong with sticking to the basics.

Ai Yazawa: Ai Yazawa is one of a few shojo/josei artists (along with Chika Umino and Moyocco Anno) whose style I consider to be extremely distinct. Her character designs are edgy yet realistic, featuring smaller eyes and thicker lips than the average shojo characters. Her costumes are inspired by real-life designers such as Vivienne Westwood, so her characters are always fashionable. But where Yazawa really shines is her use of facial expressions. Yazawa is amazing at being able to create drama through closeups and the way she frames important scenes. Thus, Yazawa’s storytelling is layered – rather than just relying on multifaceted characters and great dialogue, the story’s emotional punch lies just as much within it’s art.

CLAMP: I love CLAMP’s artwork, but only for a few specific series. I’m not a fan of the more angular art style shown in their older works (such as Clover), nor of their latest lanky character designs where even young characters appear to be six feet tall (which is especially prevalant in Tsubasa). However, I adore CLAMP’s character designs for Cardcaptor Sakura and Chobits, which are adorable without feeling overly saccharine, and just generally very feminine. I also love their detailed costumes, from Sakura’s battle costumes in CCS to Yuko’s kimonos in xxxHolic. But the main reason I know I’m a fan of CLAMP’s artwork is because a picture of Chi will pull me in every time, despite the fact that I don’t even like Chobits.

Yuuki Obata: At first glance, Yuuki Obata’s artwork for We Were There seems pretty straightforward. She uses bubbles, sparkles, flowers – all staple elements of the shojo aesthetic. But her character designs only appear to be typical on the surface – on closer inspection they’re rounder than the average shojo characters, and Obata depicts her characters aging skillfully and realistically. But more than for having a distinct style like Ai Yazawa or being amazingly detailed like CLAMP, I believe Obata evokes a certain warmth from her artwork that makes me go ‘awww’ every time I see it.

Yuu Watase: Yuu Watase is the queen of the recycled character design. Tamahome, Night, and Uruki (among many others) are basically the same design over and over again. So why did I put her on this list? Because it’s a damn good character design. No one knows how to draw a pretty boy quite like Watase does, and in many ways the people who accuse Watase of copying her own designs are ignoring the fact that this is true for many other manga artists as well (coughArina Tanemuracough).

There are many other shojo manga artists whose style I really like. I love Kyosuke Motomi’s character designs – they’re sharp and attractive and almost feel as though they walked out of a shonen manga. And I’ve always liked the pretty boys from Vampire Knight, despite the fact that I don’t care much for the series itself. There are even some shojo authors whose works I haven’t read but I find their art extremely addictive, such as Io Sakisaka. So are there any shojo artists whose character designs or costumes you can’t get enough of? Share your thoughts, guys!

The idealization of the ‘nice guy’

Some fans of Fruits Basket still wish that the kind ‘Prince’ Yuki had ended up with Tohru instead of Kyo.

One complaint I’ve noticed among shojo manga fans is that they often dislike that the ‘nice guy’ never gets the girl. Typically, a female shojo protagonist finds herself pursued by a guy who she argues with all of the time, or who has a reputation as a ‘bad boy,’ and a sweet guy who is extremely loyal to her. Over the course of the typical shojo romance series, the ‘bad boy’s’ rough exterior will slowly melt as he grows closer to the girl, leaving the nice guy out in the cold. Some fans, however, dislike this cliché. The most common reason fans wish girls would choose the nice guy is because in real life, he’d be a much safer option than the bad boy. While love interests who start as jerk generally evolve into decent and loving boyfriends in shojo manga, in the real world, setting out to change a bad boy doesn’t work so well. In addition, the winning love interest often comes with a lot of baggage – a mysterious past or complicated family life – and fans see choosing the nice guy as an easier option. Another reason fans latch onto the nice guy is because of all the characters in a series, he’s usually the one who least deserves to have his heart broken, and you can’t help but feel sorry for him. However, I feel that most fans who root for the nice guy in shojo manga are idealizing the ‘nice guy’ archetype rather than looking at the characters themselves.

I always find it interesting when people say they were rooting for the losing interest because he was ‘nicer.’ Fans are quick to segregate love interests by labeling them; placing them into categories such as ‘nice guys’ and ‘bad boys.’ But sometimes I find myself questioning these labels. For example, in Peach Girl, Toji is seen as the ‘nice guy’ because his rival Kairi is a playboy. But Kairi saves Momo when Sae blackmails her, gives up on her so she can be with Toji, and risks his life to retrieve a present she gave him. In many ways, Kairi proves himself to be just as nice of a guy as Toji is – and possibly even nicer. Conversely, in Absolute Boyfriend Soshi is considered to be the ‘nice’ love interest because he is Riiko’s childhood friend, and because Night is a robot. But Soshi often calls Riiko an idiot and takes her for granted, while Night is never anything but sweet to her, which makes me question whether Soshi deserves to be labeled the ‘nice’ love interest.  And in Skip Beat!, Sho is considered the ‘jerk’ love interest because he was only using Kyoko in the beginning of the series. However, I’m hestitant to agree with Ren’s label as the ‘nice guy,’ since there are several occassions where he is purposely cold to Kyoko or he completely ignores her (and interestingly, Ren seems to be an exception to the ‘nice guy’ rule since Kyoko’s affections for Ren are greater than her feelings for Sho).  Thus, I feel as though the fans who root for the sweet guy simply because he is the ‘nice guy’ are only looking on the surface of things.

One reason I say specifically that fans who root for the nice guy are attached to an archetype (and not the character himself) is because in most series, the nice guy isn’t fully fleshed out. He generally serves several roles in the story: he’s a threat to the ‘bad boy’ for the girl’s affections, especially since he’s often smarter and sweeter – he’s ‘perfect.’ He also is typically the person the protagonist can talk to about her worries.  However, beyond these functions the sweet love interest is typically not a well-developed character – we know little about his likes and dislikes, and he usually doesn’t have a strong personality beyond being nice. There are exceptions, of course – it’s hard not to like Nakatsu’s goofiness in Hana-Kimi, while Yuki in Fruits Basket has many insecurities and goes through great character development. Yet despite the fact that they are perfect, the losing love interest often feels generic. In most cases, the nice guy’s reasons for liking the girl go unexplained – all that matters is that he loves her enough to remain loyal to her, and enough to eventually let her go. This doesn’t work well for me, however, since in order for me to be convinced that a couple is right for each other I need to know the reason why each partner has feelings for the other. Thus, I find it hard to understand many times how some fans can root for love interests like Takeuchi in We Were There because they feel so underdeveloped.

In Sand Chronicles, Ann chooses the average nice guy. Fans didn’t exactly jump for joy, however.

Additionally, it sort of bugs me when fans gush about how nice it would have been if the girl had chosen the sweet guy or how cute the two would look together because in most series, the girl has no romantic feelings for the nice guy whatsoever. In most shojo romance series, it’s hard for me to imagine what type of couple the nice guy and main girl would be because the dynamic between them is platonic, and there’s no chemistry between them whatsoever.  Just because the sweet guy is your favorite character or you don’t want him to end up alone doesn’t necessarily mean he’d be a good match with the female protagonist – or that he has to end up with her specifically.  And what’s funny is that as much as some fans complain about the nice guy never getting the girl in the end, the response to series where the nice guy wins is usually mixed. For example, in Paradise Kiss, many fans wish Yukari had stayed with George rather than marrying her high school crush Tokumori. And in Sand Chronicles, it’s clear that Ann was going to end up with ‘everyman’ Daigo right from the start, yet there are still fans who hoped she would have chosen the mysterious Fuji. So as often as fans say they want the girl to choose the good guy, the appeal of the ‘reformed bad boy’ storyline is still strong because it creates so much drama, especially because bad boys often have better character development.

But the most important point I’d like to make is that while fans say the girl should choose the guy who treats her like a princess because in real life he’d be a much safer option are ignoring the fact that in real life, nice guys are not like the nice guys in manga. While in shojo manga perfect guys like Kimi ni Todoke‘s Kazehaya are handsome, considerate, and kind, in the real world, the average guy is somewhere in-between the good and the bad boy, prone to moments of both stupidity and sweetness. Thus, the ‘nice guy’ in shojo manga is just as much of an unrealistic idealization as the reformed bad boy is. Having a guy who knows exactly how you’re feeling all the time, or is willing to give up everything to be with you is nice – but it’s far-fetched, and you shouldn’t expect it from a guy in real life. Just as having a cold guy become more loving is a female fantasy so too is the image of the perfect, sweet boyfriend. All of this being said, I have no problem when the nice guy wins – and I do agree that there probably aren’t enough series where the sweet guy gets the girl. What’s needed, however, is for the nice guy to feel less like a plot device and more like a unique character, with his own quirks and interesting background. Fans may never completely agree with who should end up with the girl in their favorite series, but I hope to see that the reason they root for a certain character is more than just because they are generically ‘nice.’

Cover-to-Cover: Goong

Cover-to-Cover is a column where I’ll choose my favorite cover from a particular series. This time around it’s the first manhwa (Korean comic) I’ve ever read: Goong! Goong is a wonderful series that takes place in alternative version of modern Korea in which the monarchy still reigns over the country. Chae-Kyung, an ordinary 16-year-old girl, is arranged to be married to the cruel crown prince Shin because of a promise their grandfathers made long ago. As the two slowly learn to love each other, Chae-Kyung must adapt to the ways of the palace, while the threat of political turmoil is ever-present. With interesting characters, a great setting, and several well-balanced plot threads, Goong is an extremely addictive series. And while I’d probably still love Goong even if the characters were drawn as stick-figures, the series also benefits from having beautiful art. The character designs are sharp and attractive, while the costumes are detailed.  Thus, choosing a favorite cover for this series is going to be tough. Immediately when I thought of which cover I liked best, the cover of volume three came to mind. The characters are in a great pose, and the energy of the cover matches the dynamic between Shin and Chae-Kyung really well. Chae-Kyung’s face is also very cute. Meanwhile, another cover that stands out to me is volume eleven‘s.  While the pose Shin and Chae-Kyung are in is sort of cheesy, the colors are lovely and the characters are well-drawn. And yet, as I thought about which cover to choose, one volume’s cover kept coming back into my mind: volume four.

When I saw the cover of volume four online, I didn’t think anything of it. It wasn’t until I saw the image in person that I realized how pretty it is. I think I’m a sucker for poses like this one: Chae-Kyung is kneeling over to embrace a sitting Shin, and it comes across as sweeter than any of the series’ other covers.  What’s more, unlike several of the other covers that feature Chae-Kyung and Shin in modern clothing, volume four’s cover shows Chae-Kyung wearing traditional Korean attire worn by the female members of the royal family. I must admit, it took me awhile to warm up to the Korean costumes presented in the series – at first I thought they were kind of bulky and awkward. But since then they’ve grown on me, and the style has begun to suit Chae-Kyung as much as she is slowly beginning to become suited to her role as crown princess. Yet, even with as ornate as the cover of volume four, the couple here seems very quiet in comparison to the ‘spark’ they have on other covers, or even within the series itself. Even though Chae-Kyung and Shin constantly have trouble communicating their feelings for one another, it’s hard not to become swept up in the few tender moments they’ve had with each other. Volume four’s cover is probably the most intimate Goong has had yet – and that’s exactly why it’s my favorite cover.

Rivalry and female relationships in shojo manga

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the presence of rival female characters in shojo manga. In most shojo series, the protagonist is envied or outright bullied by another female. While this may ring true for many teenage girls in real life, in manga the cruelty these female antagonists display sends a particularly bad message about women in general. Not only do such characters suggest that women are typically catty or downright vicious, but that there are no positive, loving relationships between women. The latter is especially true because often in shojo manga the only other prominent female character besides the protagonist is her rival, which is probably why I appreciate female friendships in shojo manga when they do show up. Many shojo series present female fantasies – like having the most popular guy in school fall for an average girl – and it’s sad that the only role other females can play in these fantasies is that of the antagonist. Furthermore, the female rival is almost always more beautiful and ‘perfect’ than the protagonist is, which sends the unfortunate message that women can’t be both beautiful and kind, and that women who are popular or desired by men are deserving of being hated. Funnily enough, several other bloggers have also been pondering the presence of the female rival, so I thought I’d share my thoughts of a few of the best, worst, and downright ugliest female rivals in shojo manga.

Mika Ito (Absolute Boyfriend)

At the beginning of Absolute Boyfriend, Mika is Riiko’s popular best friend who helps her whenever she gets rejected by a guy. But not long after Riiko begins dating Night, a robot who is programmed to be the best lover, Mika reveals that she stole all the guys who Riiko liked and plans to do the same with Night. Riiko is devastated to find out that Mika was only pretending to be her friend to make herself look better (since Riiko is ‘plain’), and when Night fails to fall for Mika’s seductions, she is rarely heard from or seen again. Mika is a pretty standard female rival because the main reason she is jealous of Riiko revolves around a man. Furthermore, Mika isn’t given any real personality – the most important function of her character is to create drama between Riiko and Night, the ‘more important’ romantic relationship. By having Mika try to steal her ‘best friend’s’ boyfriend, Absolute Boyfriend implicitly sends the message that not only are females not to be trusted, but that they are only obstacles in getting the attention of men (and that men are the only ‘goals’ females seek to attain).

Harumi Sugihara (Mars)

When bad boy Rei Kashino and quiet artist Kira Aso start falling for each other at the beginning of Mars, Rei’s former fling Harumi is none too pleased.  Harumi’s jealousy becomes so intense that she and a group of girls decide to kidnap Kira so she’ll break up with Rei, or else they’ll break her fingers. Kira refuses, but at the last second Harumi decides not to do it. Rei threatens Harumi not to come near Kira again, and not long after Kira becomes friends with Harumi. While the friendship between Kira and Harumi is highly unrealistic, because Harumi is the only other female character who is in the manga from beginning to end, we see no alternatives to female relationships, which is highly problematic. Although Harumi’s violent threats were treated as horrible, having her attempt to physically harm Kira suggests that females become completely irrational over men – and this notion is somewhat ‘normalized’ because Kira completely forgives her Harumi for her vindictiveness without ever addressing the issue.

Sae Kashiwagi (Peach Girl)

No list of female rivals would be complete without Sae. At the beginning of Peach Girl, Sae is Momo’s ‘best friend,’ with a tendency to gossip and copy Momo’s fashion sense. But when Sae finds out Momo has a crush on Toji, a classmate from middle school, Sae does anything and everything to steal him away. When Toji ends up in the hospital, Sae convinces her entire class not to tell Momo that he’s sick so she can visit him by herself (and so he can think Momo doesn’t care about him since she hadn’t visited him). Momo and Toji do break up temporarily, but before long they are back together and Sae ends up scheming again. She decides to trick Momo by slipping something in her drink, after which Momo wakes up in a hotel with a model who Sae is manipulating. Sae takes blackmail photos and uses them to get Toji to go out with her, which he miserably agrees to do. Once again, Peach Girl presents female rivals whose relationship only revolves around men, but what’s interesting is that Sae isn’t even in love with Toji. Sae sends the message that females are obsessed with getting a guy – any guy – as a sign of their superiority over other females. Sae is considered the ultimate bitch is shojo manga – she has no redeeming qualities and the audience is made to hate her, which is unfortunately the fate of many female characters in the media. Sae’s machinations also imply that women are incredibly shallow – not only is Sae obsessed with taking down Momo, but in being fawned over (she even briefly becomes a model to attain this goal). Thus, Peach Girl sends the message that the only role women serve in each others’ lives is to make each other miserable.

Ume Kurumizawa (Kimi ni Todoke)

Not long after realizing her own feelings for her popular classmate Kazehaya, Sawako soon discovers that another girl likes him: Kurumi. Kurumi notices before anyone else does how Kazehaya looks at Sawako, and she asks Sawako to give up on him. Sawako refuses, but surprisingly the two develop a sort-of friendship. Since both love Kazehaya they end up talking about their crushes, and when Sawako and Kazehaya finally start dating each other both she and the audience can’t help but feel sorry for Kurumi. Because Kurumi isn’t outright cruel in her treatment of Sawako the way many other female rivals are, she comes across as sympathetic, especially since her feelings for Kazehaya were genuine. Furthermore, because Kimi ni Todoke highlights the friendship between Sawako, Yano, and Chizu, there is a range of female interactions and personalities that are presented beyond Kurumi’s character. Thus, although Kurumi and Sawako’s relationship is initiated by their common interest of a man, Kimi ni Todoke takes a step in the right direction by fleshing out the female rival.

Maho Izawa (His and Her Circumstances)

His and Her Circumstances‘ protagonist Yukino is the smartest and most popular girl in school, to the envy of her classmate Maho. Like Yukino, Maho has always been the center of attention and loves being praised, and she convinces the other girls in her class to start ignoring Yukino so she can reclaim her throne. Her plan fails, however, and soon Yukino helps her realize that there’s more to life than being number one – like having good friends. One thing I appreciate is that Maho’s rivalry with Yukino is not about men at all. While her reasons for hating Yukino (or actually, loving, since she wishes to be like Yukino) are still superficial, His and Her Circumstances at least shows how important it is to have close female friends by showing that Yukino was missing something from her life without them. And unlike other female rivals who try to bring each other down, once Maho becomes friends with Yukino they try to help each other correct their old ways and start focusing on new goals, which is a refreshing change to the sadly combative female dynamic that is typically shown not just in shojo manga, but in media in general.

The female rival is a cliché that is insidious because it is used in such misogynistic ways. It has become so common to have a ‘bitchy’ female character that it is easy not to even question why females in media are so consistently made to be hated. Yet not all female rivals come across as unsympathetic or feel like unnecessary plot devices. What do you guys think of the presence of girls whose only purpose is to torment the protagonist? And are there female rivals who you’ve liked or you felt served a purpose to the plot beyond creating drama? Share your thoughts, guys!

Lovely Complex: Risa and Otani

“I don’t care if he’s small enough to fit inside my arms. I don’t care if he’s a lot shorter than I am. I love this guy. I really love this guy.” – Risa Koizumi, Love*Com volume three.

With such a large catalogue, it’s no surprise that there are many genres represented within the Shojo Beat imprint. From supernatural fantasy to melodrama that would rival any soap opera, the Shojo Beat manga line offers something for everyone. But at the heart of the Shojo Beat line is the romantic-comedy. Many of the most popular Shojo Beat manga are simply about high-school students falling in love, including Kimi ni Todoke and High School Debut. One of the best shojo romantic-comedies Viz has released to date is the 17 volume series Lovely Complex, also known as Love*Com.  Love*Com stands above most romantic-comedies because not only is it genuinely funny, but also because it features one of the most memorable couples in manga: Risa Koizumi and Atsushi Otani. The two are nicknamed the ‘All Hanshin-Kyojin,’ a famous comedic duo, by their classmates, because of the great difference in their heights and their bickering dynamic. At 5’7, Risa is the tallest girl in her class, while Otani is the shortest guy at 5’2. Although they tease each other constantly, Risa and Otani decide to help each other win over their respective crushes. It doesn’t take long, however, for Risa to realize what a great guy Otani is, and she must learn to overcome the complex that has been bothering both of them: their heights!

In most romance manga (shojo or otherwise), characters tend to fall in love for contrived reasons. And while falling in love with the janitor who saved you from being kidnapped may make for a great story (I still love you though, Dengeki Daisy!), Love*Com takes a simplier – yet less often travelled – approach to romance by showing that our main characters get together because they have so much in common. At first, Risa uses the fact that Otani is shorter than her to deny that she has fallen for him. But their friends all believe that Risa and Otani would make the perfect couple: they have the same hobbies, particularly their tastes in music (both share a love for a rapper named Umibozu, whose rhythms no one else in the series seems to be able to stomache), and similar mindsets, including a fondness for trying new menu items at their favorite restaurant. In volume four, Risa finally decides to accept her feelings for Otani and confesses to him. It takes him awhile to realize that she has a crush on him, because he is unable to imagine a ‘jumbo gal’ like her falling for a ‘shrimp’ like him. Once the depth of her feelings hits him, Otani rejects her, and the aftermath is handled differently than in almost any other shojo manga I’ve read. While in most shojo manga the love interest’s rejection leads to the female protagonist swearing revenge (such as in Skip Beat!), or occurs before the characters even really knew each other (such as in Itazura na Kiss), in Love*Com, Risa has to learn how to deal with her unrequited affection while getting her friendship with Otani back on track. At first, Risa tells him to forget about her love confession and act normally – but whenever she tries to revert to their ‘All Hanshin-Kyojin’ act, Otani teasingly asks her if that’s any way to treat the man she loves. This story-arc is probably my favorite the series – because for as funny as the series can be, the characters’ reactions to difficult situations like these are handled in ways that are extremely relatable, without ever losing it’s sense of humor.

But soon Risa decides that it’s okay if she still loves him, and their friends notice that Otani seems to be pleased by the depth of her feelings for him. Otani’s feelings for Risa come into further question when Risa sets her sights on a new teacher named Mighty. Otani confides in a mutual friend that even though he has fun with Risa, he has a hard time picturing the two of them together because of her height difference. However, when Risa joins a fan club devoted to Mighty, Otani gets jealous of the attention she’s giving her teacher, and on her birthday the two finally get together. Although Risa fell for Otani first, I’ve always believed Love*Com does a good job of showing that Otani loves Risa just as much as she does him. At first, he is reluctant to openly say he loves her, but little things like buying her a bunny pendant because he noticed she likes rabbits, to missing an Umibozu concert when Risa faints, show how much he cares for her. But it’s more than just their interactions that make them a great couple: both characters are interesting on their own as well. Risa is a great female protagonist – she’s funny yet sympathetic, with a love of video games and has a penchant for making strange faces. Otani, meanwhile, is sarcastic yet endearing, and is a great basketball player despite his height. I appreciate the fact that the series follows the couple trying to maintain their relationship after the two get together. And while some parts of the series after Risa and Otani start dating may be clichéd – such as the introduction of rival love interests Mimi and Kohori, who bring in unnecessary drama to the series – in the end, the lopsided duo are one of the funnest (and funniest) couples in manga, which makes Love*Com essential reading for any fan of the Shojo Beat catalogue.

The rest of the Shojo Beat Manga Moveable Feast entries can be found here.

Maid-sama! – leaving behind the formula

Lately, I’ve been watching the popular shojo anime Kaichou wa Maid-Sama! The series follows Misaki Ayukawa, a girl who worked hard to become class president to represent the female student body in her formerly all-boys school. Like many a shojo heroine, Misaki comes from a poverty-stricken background, and must work hard to make ends meet. What her classmates don’t know is that Misaki works at a maid café! Misaki’s secret is soon discovered by Takumi Usui, the most popular boy in her school. He begins coming to the café (Maid Latte) everyday to watch Misaki work, and promises to keep her secret because he wants to keep enjoying his fun by himself. From the start, Kaichou wa Maid-sama! clings to common shojo clichés. Unfortunately, oftentimes it feels as though the series has these clichés just for the sake of having them. In the first episode, Misaki seems to hate Usui because he’s a playboy. That’s fair enough, except every time she’s seen him with a girl he’s rejecting them, which would actually make him the opposite of a playboy. At another point in the first episode, Misaki learns that she came in second to Usui on their exam, which infuriates her. However, in the thirteen episodes I’ve watched so far of the series, not once since then has Misaki’s academic inferiority complex to Usui been mentioned. While I’m glad this particular thread hasn’t been resurrected so far because it’s so clichéd (honestly, His and Her Circumstances did it first and did it the best), I feel it’s bad writing to mention something and never bring it up again. It’s almost as though the series is unsure of what it wants to do and where it wants to go next.

Unfortunately, this isn’t the only time the series relies too much on telling instead of showing. In the first two episodes, characters often comment on how strong Misaki is. Usui and another maid who works with Misaki have a conversation about how hardworking Misaki is and that it sometimes keeps her from allowing help from others. I’m not a fan of when series tell me how strong or unique a character is without actually showing me – but I’ll cut Maid-Sama! some slack because it does get there eventually. Misaki proves time and time again to be a very determined girl with a strong sense of values. When she is offered a free scholarship to a rich academy, Misaki turns it down because she’s afraid that Seika High School will minimize the role of it’s female students if she’s no longer a class representative there. In another episode, Misaki saves a student from a falling ladder, injuring herself in the process. But my favorite scene is in episode five, when Misaki is left by herself in Maid Latte. She’s attacked by two perverts who handcuff and gag her, and after Usui sees from the window he rushes to rescue her. Just as he kicks through the glass, Misaki breaks the handcuffs and attacks the perverts herself! This scene made me laugh out loud, as it was setting up to be a damsel-in-distress moment and ended up going against the grain.

Another way Misaki is a unique character is that she’s the first female shojo protagonist I’ve come across who is…well, sexist. As class president, Misaki often ignores the boys’ opinions in favor of the girls’. She often punishes the male students with extreme severity and thinks that by doing so, she’s improving the repuation of Seika High. However, Misaki is confronted about her bias very early on in the series. When Misaki assumes that the boys in her classroom of reading a dirty magazine and asks to confiscate it, the boys call her out on only checking their magazines, and Misaki quickly agrees to read the girls’ magazines as well to make sure they’re appropriate for school. And during the cultural festival, when Misaki ignores her male classmates’ input, they decide to rebel by not helping out with the café. Misaki apologizes and realizes she was wrong, but it’s clear that her dislike of males is still an issue for her. Her hatred for chauvinism goes directly against her role as a maid, and Usui questions her about her feelings toward her job. Misaki admits that though she initially had problems with her job, she’s warmed up to playing a maid because of her friends at work, who taught her the importance of making others happy. However, Misaki’s attitude toward males makes a later scene somewhat confusing. In episode seven, the women at Maid Latte decide to dress as men and serve only female customers for a day. Misaki thoroughly enjoys it, and prompts her to tell Usui she’s more of a male at heart. This statement feels as though it came out of nowhere and makes no sense, however, because of how much Misaki fights for women and distrusts guys, and thus doesn’t fit in with the rest of the series.

Still, there are many things about Maid-Sama! that are fun and interesting. Usui is an interesting example of a male tsundere – he’s slightly less cruel in his teasing than the average shojo male love interest yet somewhat unfazed by his surroundings. Despite this, he’s more open about his feelings for Misaki than the average male tsundere is, which I like. His ability to show up wherever Misaki is is made fun of in the series, and is really funny. So far, not much is known about Usui’s background, and I’m looking forward to finding out more. The episode where Misaki and her friends trail Usui to find out what he does outside of school has been one of my favorites so far. Misaki’s friend Sakura gets the idea that Usui must be rich (a common trait among shojo male love interests), and he purposely goes to a luxury tailor and ultra high class restaurant just to mess with them! In many ways, the series uses shojo formulas for both good and evil. When it’s bad, Maid-sama! is an uneven but watchable series. But when it’s good, Maid-sama! feels like a shojo anime that’s actually worthy of the popularity it’s received. I hope that the second half of the series learns to let go of the clichés – or at least learns how to twist them a little bit more.