Mistakes of Youth: The Blog (Powered by EXCELLENCE!)

As some of you may remember, I was in Japan almost exactly one year ago! And you know what? I bought a ton of books over there! I’ve been meaning to review them for a good long while, but I never actually found the time or drive to sit down and write some real reviews. However, that all changes today with a Mistakes of Youth Exclusive review of the realer than real Gundam artbook, MS Era 0099– Mobile Suit Gundam 0001-0080.

Ever since the original Gundam aired back in 1979, its realistic approach to the horrors and nature of war caught the eyes of viewers who were far more mature than the show’s intended target audience. While the original Gundam TV series, and to some extent the subsequent compilation films, are candy-coloured cartoons meant to sell toys to little kids, fans were fascinated by their realism despite these outward appearances. Before Gundam came out, there was nothing in the way of “real” robot shows, so the idea of a robot being used as a military weapon was a completely new one, even if the robot was hilariously toyetic.

Over the years, a bunch of UC-centric Gundam media has pushed the real world angle hard where the original TV show did not. One such bit of media, which drives this idea home 110%, is MS Era 0099.

Considering this book came out in the 1990s, I can only assume that it was an idea thought up by guys who were taken in by Gundam during their high school years. This isn’t an easy-to-compile collection of artwork by hands who worked the original show. This is a book filled with images drawn especially for it. It is a love letter to UC Gundam if ever there was one.

0099 is a mock photo album, covering the supposed events of the One Year War. It’s a hardbound number, and it’s meant to evoke complete and total seriousness. As if it was a real book you could pick up if you lived in the Universal Century. Contained within are roughly 100 “photos” taken during the One Year War, matched with English captions and a running timeline–also in English–of the events between the first year of the Universal Century and the end of the One Year War, 0080. There is also an introduction to the book, which contextualizes it within the Gundam universe, along with brief biographies of the “photographers” at the back.

These illustrations aren’t meant to be flashy DVD cover material. Their compositions are very subdued, and at times mundane, with the intention of feeling like a real photo album. Drawings oftentimes err on the side of complete realism, while colours are deep, dark, and at times quite de-saturated. The illustrations are done on cels, giving them some honest texture in addition to a noise filter that seems to grace most–if not all–of the images in this book. In fact, a lot of filtering is used to add a degree of realism to these drawings, and strangely enough it doesn’t look contrived at all. Motion blurs, lens flares, monitor scan lines, along with sepia and monochrome toning give these illustrations lots of character, lending themselves more to this idea of realism.

The subject matter ranges between very powerful depictions of war-time acts, and quieter subjects that flesh out the UC world. Images of foot-soldiers attacking Zakus, GMs sniping in the forest, and mobile suits launching are amongst the more exciting images in the book. Depictions of astronauts working on the first space colonies, tests of prototype mobile suits, Zakus as they come off the assembly line, and a portrait of Dr. Minovsky make up a portion of the book that attempts to bring some degree of believability to the science and technology in Gundam.

The book is also filled with portraits of random people, adding the human element needed in any realistic depiction of war. Friends and relatives mourning over the death of a soldier, people left homeless after an attack on their city, and kids playing on the wreckage of mobile suits paint a rich image of civilian life, which is barely touched upon in any anime adaptation of Gundam. On the military side, we’re treated to soldiers playing cards, taking sips of coffee in the snow, and lighting up smokes.

Certain other illustrations in this book look like they could have been taken from newspapers, like a black and while photo of Gihren Zabi in a Hitler-esque pose during his famous speech after Garma’s death, or another black and white shot of General Revil returning to the Federation after being held captive.

Yes, there are some cameos of actual Gundam characters throughout this book, but since its focus is more around what the series never showed you, their presence is tastefully restrained. There are about two pictures of Char in this book, and in each one his face is only partly visible. Another illustration depicts a harbor in Ireland, where one can only just make out the top of the White Base poking out from behind a wall.

Every single illustration in this book is well done. There is no instance of anything looking strange or off model. One can thank the talented group of illustrators behind these drawings, of which one is Cowboy Bebop character designer and professed Gundam otaku Kawamoto Toshihiro.

I can’t say the same for the written portion of the book, however. Honestly, reading this book is a chore. Yes, it is bilingual, with the English at the forefront (English is the language of the future, after all.) and the Japanese relegated to odd corners throughout the book. Considering this book is made for a Japanese audience, the English is purely cosmetic. However, as an English speaker, this translation is hard to get through. It’s done by a westerner, but clearly someone who obviously had no interest in Gundam, and was paid the absolute minimum to translate this. It doesn’t read like a machine translation, but it is very stilted and has a few newbie translation errors. If the translation was better, it’d be easier to get immersed into the book, but as it is, it just takes you out of the experience. I can’t say much about the Japanese, but a quick glance brings to light random mojibake on one page. In short, it’s a lot more fun to look at this book than to read it, and maybe glance at the captions every now and again. That said, it should probably be read through at least once.

MS Era 0099 is one of the quirkier things I’ve seen come out of the Gundam merchandise machine. Despite some stupid technical issues, it truly is a lavish love letter to the UC universe, and I recommend it to any serious Gundam fan. As far as buying it goes, Google brings up a couple of sites that sell it. Don’t go for Amazon–it’s way too overpriced. Getting it second-hand at BeNippon is probably you best bet. This book originally retailed for 3500 yen, and I probably got it for around 1800 at Mandarake. It was a little beat up, but if anything that just adds more character to a book that’s already brimming with it.

Further Images

Anime fans are known to often spout off Japanese they don’t know because they think it’s cool. Okay, sometimes they do know Japanese, and still spout off Japanese words. I do this, too. For instance, when I was in Japan, I’d often comment on how takai (expensive) everything was. While I did it half-jokingly, running Japanese words into your English speech becomes a habit once you spend enough time in Japan. So–as awful as this may sound to some–I think in certain contexts it’s okay to run Japanese words into English sentences. For instance, I think it’s fine to do this amongst other people who know the language while talking about concepts with no 100% direct translation. It’s almost fine in blog posts (though I think footnotes would have worked better).

However, when Jake Adelstein quotes his buddy as saying, “Omae, I’ve never seen anyone do that before and live to tell the tale.” in his book Tokyo Vice, I think something is wrong. Yes, he explains what omae means and its connotations (it’s a rude/familiar way to say “you”), and I can see the kind of tone he’s trying to convey with his translation, but this just shouldn’t be done in a professionally published book for mainstream readers. It would have been far better just to use “you” then note that in Japanese, the guy was using omae, and what omae means. People who don’t know Japanese won’t ever fully grasp the tone the man was taking whether or not omae was used in the translation, and those of us who know Japanese will be able to imagine said tone if “you” was used instead, and a note about the use of omae followed afterwords.

The book also uses fansubber favourites like senpai, kohai, as well as the infamous gaijin. I don’t think gaijin is even explained–it doesn’t really need to be, considering the book’s target audience–but it doesn’t hurt to be safe, right?

That said, about a fourth of the way in, Tokyo Vice is a pretty interesting look into a side of Japan that I don’t see talked about much, so to that end it’s a pretty good read. And it’s not like it’s badly written either, it’s just Adelstein’s use of Japanese puts me off, especially when he uses “comic book” as opposed to manga.

I’m sure he appreciates some guy on a blog that has a “Lolita Appreciation” category getting on his case over something so trivial!!

How am I going to find time to read all these books in between sitting around and doing nothing, humping hug pillows and having delusions of grandeur about running a Shinbo panel at Anime Boston?

But there’s still some pictures.

Ever since I’ve returned to the US I’ve developed something of a shopping list of US releases that need to get picked up at one point or another. However, since I’m already under a backlog of DVDs and manga, these purchases are not of any high priority. That said, there is one thing I’ve been looking to purchase with a great amount of anticipation, and that is the US release of the Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuuutsu novel. Unfortunately, I’ve been unable to find neither the normal people version nor the otakukusai version anywhere I’ve looked. Until today, that is. While killing time in Borders, for some mystical, cosmic reason both the normal version and the cool dude version were just sitting there on the shelf. I of course bought the cool dude version without a second thought.

Boston isn’t Tokyo, so I can’t just hop on the train and be in Akiba in 30 minutes. Can’t do that here. I do however make the rounds of local bookstores and such to scout what’s out on the market, and it would seem that Yen Press is trying its hardest to weasel its way into my wallet, along with companies like Seven Seas (well, I actually just want Dance In The Vampire Bund) and–for ultimate contrast–Dark Horse and Viz Signature.

However, fresh out of Japan, American manga is just too fucking expensive. I’m really not ready to drop 10 dollars per volume on a series that isn’t even finished running in Japan, let alone the US. I did however get to the end of Trigun Maximum though… more on that in a later post, maybe.

Despite that whining, however, I able to drop 15 bucks on that Haruhi book with little hesitation, but that’s mostly due to this 20 dollar rebate card I got after buying some RAM for my laptop…

I don’t remember when, but at one point when I was reading Matt Alt’s blog, I noticed that I hadn’t read any of the man’s books! I quickly rectified this by breaking out my old dusty copy of Hello, Please! that I’ve had lying about since the Christmas of ’07, and immediately got a hold of his newest book, Yokai Attack!. Now here’s some reviews to show for it!

I’d just like to note that normally I’d spell yokai as “youkai” but for the sake of this review I’ll be spelling it without a “u” to avoid confusion.

Hello, Please! Very Helpful Super Kawaii Characters from Japan, by Matt Alt and Yoda Hiroko

While some Americans may be familiar with Japan’s obsession with all things cute by way of characters such as Hello Kitty and the Pokémon, most probably aren’t aware of how embedded cuteness is in modern Japanese culture. Hello, Please! Very Helpful Super Kawaii Characters from Japan aims to enlighten by introducing us to the wide variety of Japanese “working characters” that populate street signs, instructional booklets, food packaging and the like all over Japan.

Hello, Please! is composed primarily of photos, each separated into different sections, with each section opening with a short introduction as to what the characters in that part of the book are meant to do. The photos are accompanied by witty commentary, which adds another shade of colour to the already colourful characters on display in the book.

While very small (pocket sized, actually) Hello, Please! is filled with hundreds of vibrant photographs all printed on top quality paper. The design aesthetic throughout is clean and colourful, not unlike the characters that populate the approximately 200 pages. As expected, this book is not a terribly deep or involving read, and instead opts to let the photos do the talking. One can be done with it in about an hour or so, but it also works as a fun item to share with your friends. I’d recommend it.

Yokai Attack!: The Japanese Monster Survival Guide, by Matt Alt and Yoda Hiroko, with illustrations by Morino Tatsuya

…or 外国人のための妖怪サバイバルガイド. Instead of kindly getting one acquainted with the adorable mascot characters that populate modern-day Japanese culture, Yokai Attack!: The Japanese Monster Survival Guide provides one with detailed information about traditional Japanese creepy crawlies that still have a foothold in modern popculture today.

Much like Hello, Please!, Yokai Attack! groups its characters into multiple sections, but instead of acting as a photo album, Yokai Attack! is more fact-heavy–filled with various legends, descriptions and charts about these old-school spooks. The most impressive part of this books is the sheer amount of research that went into it. One glance at the bibliography shows that a wide range of sources were consulted, and I’m going to assume that there was also a lot of research done by way of interviews and in-the-field exploration. It all comes together in a nice, well-written package, that is both informative and entertaining.

In addition to pages upon pages of information, Yokai Attack! features illustrations of each and every monster by manga artist Morino Tatsuya, assistant to the legendary Mizuki Shigeru. His style is very unique, and suits the tone of the book splendidly. In addition to Morino’s illustrations, Yokai Attack! features the work of other yokai masters along with various photos taken throughout Japan, all arranged to look like a scrapbook of sorts, complete with fake highlighting, paper clips, torn pages and written-in corrections.

Yokai Attack! is a great starting point for anybody interested in yokai. It’s both fun and informative, as well as nice to look at. If you’re already well acquainted with yokai by way of–I don’t know–playing a bunch of Touhou games, you may not find this book as informative as I found it, but it’s still an entertaining read, and much like Hello, Please! it’s a neat thing to share with your friends. Recommended.

Pictured:

• Gurren Lagann PART I w/ box and core drill
• Reading lamp
• Zero no Tsukaima
• Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha
• Toki Wo Kakeru Shoujo SE
• Insignia MP3 player
• Yokai Attack! (review copy)
• Black Lagoon s2 vol 1 SE
• Karin vol 4

Not Pictured

• 190 US dollars in COLD HARD CASH
• Two pairs of pants

All of my Nanoha DVD cases are shattered, but the discs are fine. The cover slips are kind of torn, but it isn’t that bad. If I could just get my hands on new cases I’d be cool. Anyone know where they sell clear DVD cases?

The MP3 player doesn’t have enough room for my anison playlist, but I hardly listen to every single song on there anyways. I’m planning to just load it up with a bunch of OSTs along with some non-anime JP bands, and use what space is left over for the top 100 or so anison I’m currently into. Not like I get out and about much anyways, but at least I’ll be able to listen to AWO on long car rides.

Overall, a really good haul. I got everything I wanted…

…except for a new laptop, but that was just wishful thinking. I just forced my parents into buying me a new PC six months ago…

While my summer job was something as draining and strenuous as watching over children, there were moments when the kids were all being good and I could just relax. Seeing as I was around technology, I took these chances to amuse myself on the internet in very SFW ways while my kids were diligently working on websites about Golgo 13. On one of these occasions I found myself on Wikipedia reading their Sayonara Zetsubou Sensei article. Specifically, I was reading their section on the second series.

Zetsubou Sensei references a number of obscure items that most of us silly America-jin are unaware of (and most Japanese, I wager) so I was hoping the collective wisdom of Wikipedia could help shed light on some of these mysteries. Of those mysteries, the one that bugged me the most was the source for the somewhat gruesome imagery present in the opening of Zoku. Not expecting to find anything useful, I was surprised when Wikipedia actually pointed me in the right direction.

Turns out the illustrations came from an 18th century Japanese medical text called the Kaitai Shinsho. The Kaitai Shinsho is notable because it is widely regarded as the first translation of a western text into Japanese. The original document is a German piece called Anatomischen Tabellen. The Kaitai Shinsho is based off of its Dutch translation, titled Ontleedkundige Tafelen.

Of course, I could care less about the text. I was interested in the illustrations! Ever since I saw them I was drawn in by their detailed line work and slightly grotesque nature. Not grotesque in the guro way, mind you. I wouldn’t be able to stomach that.

A little while ago my interest in this document was sparked again, and I decided to go searching for some scans. After a quick search I came upon this webpage filled with scans from the book. I was absolutely delighted when found these, and went to making some Zetsubou Sensei inspired collages at light speed. Here are some quick designs I’ve done over the past week.

I really need to do some proper Zetsubou fanart so I can use these better.

Japanese Schoolgirl Inferno: Tokyo Teen Fashion Subculture Handbook by Patrick Macias and Izumi Evers, with illustrations by Kazumi Nonaka

The image of the Japanese schoolgirl is one that many a Japanophile fantasize over and romanticize to ridiculous degrees. But really, who can blame them? With the way that these girls are presented in anime, manga and games, you’d think they were were angels straight out of heaven. However, those of us keen enough to realize that Japan isn’t at all like its cartoon counterpart know that such an image simply doesn’t jive with reality. However, upon opening this book, one notices quickly that the reality behind these girls is much stranger than the fiction.

Japanese Schoolgirl Inferno takes us straight into the belly of the beast without any warning. The introduction throws you into a club with Patrick and crew as they do some research for the book you’re holding in your hands. The image painted by this opening text is one of youth, excitement and energy. Nothing too strange, really. But as your eye scans these opening pages and actually starts to notice the accompanying photographs, you realize that this whole affair is anything but normal. And once the introduction ends, things really get weird. In the best possible way, of course.

Spanning from the late 1960s to the present day, Inferno covers all the major movements in Japanese girls’ fashion, complete with interviews, photos and Macias’ unique brand of writing. In each chapter, Macias puts you right in the middle of the movement, involving you with these girls and their era personally. Simply put, it feels like you’re there. This is actually pretty incredible, considering Macias himself wasn’t even around to experience some of these movements, which just goes to show how great this book is.

It’s evident a meticulous amount of research and love went into writing this, as each chapter contains a comprehensive history of each movement, but at the same time is presented in a very conversational manner. Macias talks to you. He knows this stuff back to front. He’s seen some of this stuff happen, and for the stuff he missed, he talks to people who were there, reads old magazines and just digs around. Then he just tells it all to you, and you simply can’t help but be mesmerized.

This book isn’t all a history lesson, though– as the title states, it’s a handbook. So, between Macias’ witty and entertaining discourses on various fashion movements, the book comes with various “How To” guides, “Day In The Life” segments, interviews with current/former Gals, and each chapter ends with a list of “Must Have” Gal items complete with “Ideal Boyfriend.” This mixture is one that produces a most entertaining read.

Another notable aspect about this book is the design and illustration work. Izumi Evers, the designer, lays out the book very well, and pushes the aesthetics appropriately over-the-top to compliment the subject matter. Similarly, Kazumi Nonaka’s illustrations are detailed, colourful and have a doll-like look to them that works well with Macias’ witty writing style, and interacts nicely with Evers’ design work.

Japanese Schoolgirl Inferno is simply a great book. It’s fun to read, informative, and just nice to look at. If there needs to be complaints to make this review complete, the ending of this book is a bit abrupt. It would have been better if there was a closing statement after the final chapter– a section where Macias could reflect on all this and provide some witty opinions. But that’s being nitpicky. It does come with this “WHAT GAL ARE YOU” test at the end, which is clearly hours of fun for the whole family.

Go out and buy this if you haven’t already. You don’t even have to care about fashion or Japan at all– this book will make you care. Because it’s that good.