The October 1 issue of Tokyo-based weekly business magazine Shukan Diamond took a unique approach to simplify things. Over ten consecutive even-numbered pages — excluding a subscription insert — the publication printed a single descriptive phrase above a half-page cartoon, each　representing a stage in the crisis, to accompany the charts, tables, and main text of an article about the problem.

In the first drawing, a sharply dressed banker is seen handing over home loan agreements (stamped “sub-prime”) to citizens atop a stick of lit dynamite; next, Barack Obama, former Prime Minister Taro Aso, and Chinese premier Wen Jiabao drop armfuls of cash from the basket of a hot-air balloon floating just beneath a darkened sky; and so on. The idea is that a reader will turn each page, almost like a flipbook, and easily comprehend how, for example, the bankruptcy of Lehman Brothers influenced the lowering of Japan’s credit rating.

The arrangement is rooted in the Japanese practice of kamishibai, or storybook theater, which in its most recent incarnation began in Japan before television and serves as a way for a stand-up performer to concisely tell a tale with a series of illustrated notebook-sized cards over a brief time period.

“We have tried to explain to readers, in simple terms, what happened around the world so that they can understand in 20 minutes,” explains editor Tsuyoshi Maeda. “Our readership is mainly businessmen, who commute for roughly an hour on the train. Of course, not everyone reads for that full period, so we targeted 20 minutes.”

Maeda reports that the magazine’s readers loved it, praising its simple format in explaining a difficult topic. The example illustrates that even though historically targeting children the kamishibai technique can potentially offer a different means of engaging an audience — it is all in the hands of the presenter.

Kazushige Yamada performs as Minakuru Mask in Saitama Prefecture

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, October 16, 2011)

Back to basics

Manga Artists Network, a company dedicated to the preservation of kamishibai, began dispatching professional entertainers to perform shows a year after its founding in 2008 as a means of assisting companies in their desire to enhance public relations. Thus far, its client list includes, among others, the Yomiuri Giants baseball team, a Loft department in Tokyo, and the Imperial Hotel Tokyo.

The approach of Manga Artists Network, located in Tokyo’s Arakawa Ward, follows the style popularized starting around 1930, when the stories were mainly adventurous and gruesome. Thousands of storytellers canvassed the nation by bicycle to earn a living selling candy. “It is nostalgic,” says performer Kazushige Yamada, 32, a former comedian. “Older people can look back to the old days, and children are amused.”

Kamishibai reached its peak in the 1950s and, though never fully disappearing, subsequently declined in popularity after moving pictures on television screens became more favorable. Manga Artists Network is spearheading something of a revival, today employing a few dozen performers who largely target audiences of children.

For a kamishibai show, the performer is positioned next to a stand about the height of a tri-pod that holds a wood case with flaps on hinges. (For some, the box is still mounted on the back of a shopping bicycle, just as it was for easy transportation decades ago.) When the flaps are folded outward, the first card in a stack of about ten appears before the seated audience.

Each story will have a theme, perhaps love or honor. The performer will have written the script on the backs of the cards, whose fronts feature colorful illustrations by a manga artist.

To move the story along, the performer will pull out the top card and insert it into the back. The backs are prepared such that the text of the card appearing in the case will be on the opposite side of the last card inserted behind and visible to the performer.

For his performances, Yamada created the character Minakuru Mask, a professional wrestler who “welcomes everyone.” At a show in the parking lot of the Hey World shopping center in Kitamoto, Saitama Prefecture, about an hour north of Tokyo by train, Yamada, outfitted in a white mask, red cape, and yellow tights, used kamishibai to express the value of friendship: Minakuru Mask overcomes a poisoning attempt by the opposition and courageously assists his tag-team partner.

With kids, he says, there are two things to keep in mind: “It must be short and interesting.”

Studio for Manga Artists Network in Arakawa Ward

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, October 14, 2011)

Communicating

To watch a performance by Yamada or his colleague, Masako Nojima, is to witness true audience-performer interaction. Not only do they amuse the children by squatting, pumping their arms, raising their voices, staggering the cards when pulling them from the holder, and flipping some upside down, they also ask numerous questions — “What do you think?”, “What’ll he do?” — and receive many answers.

“Kamishibai allows the performer to get close to the audience,” explains the 32-year-old Nojima, a part-time announcer whose kamishibai character is a housewife named Sazae-sun. “It is about communication.”

At a seminar that was scheduled to take place in late November in Tokyo, a network of foreign language instructors known as Teacher Education & Development Special Interest Group (TED SIG) utilized digital presentations using the kamishibai technique to offer anecdotes that have led to, as its Web site says, “development of expertise in the university classroom.”

Peter Hourdequin, the TED SIG program chair, was seeking to create a participatory forum for attendees whereby presenters brought their own digital media to use when giving their talks. “Five or six people can easily gather around a laptop or tablet,” the 36-year-old Hourdequin says, “so we thought this might be a neat approach.”

Such a premise heralds back to kamishibai’s true beginnings over a thousand years ago, when Buddhist priests used illustrated scrolls and narratives to pass on their teachings. It was in later centuries that pictures were added and the performers hit the streets.

“I think sharing pictures with smaller groups encourages a different type of storytelling and interaction,” says Hourdequin. “It is less didactic, and more about sharing experiences. When people share pictures from a photo album, for example, they convey a lot of information, but it feels less like a presentation. This is what we’re aiming for: teachers sharing their experiences in order to encourage dialogue and discussion.”

Yuta Sasaki also takes a digital approach, entertaining audiences with Apple’s iPad once a month at the Shitamachi Museum in Tokyo’s Taito Ward. The 29-year-old, whose main job involves animation programming and IT consulting, likes the versatility of the iPad; he is to kamishibai what an improvisational jazz musician is to music. For his shows, he will have a set of cards loaded on his machine, but he will also download images from the Internet as the performance moves along or snap photos with his mobile phone — the input is up to the audience’s reaction.

Sasaki emphasizes that he is a street performer in the spirit of those who traveled between villages in days past — in fact, he usually mounts his iPad inside a regular kamishibai wood case. “Using an iPad for kamishibai offers flexibility,” he says. “The space is open, and we can try anything.”

A card from a Minakura Mask performance in Saitama Prefecture

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, October 16, 2011)

Captivating an audience

The default presentation tool in a business setting is Microsoft PowerPoint. It assists users in creating slick slides that include text, graphics, and photos. However, it is no secret that slides with many lines of text will cause members of an audience to nod off or begin tapping on their iPhones. This is where the kamishibai technique can truly excel.

Firstly, kamishibai artwork is simple; it is intended to be clear from across a room, with the card’s space being dominated by large characters, high contrast, and vivid colors.

Though they might seem similar, images in picture books are different. “In picture books, there are details,” explains Hiroyoshi Togawa, a manager in planning and production at Osaka-based Cut Box, a toy company that sells kamishibai display cases for $105. “But in kamishibai, the basic background will be repeated. The artist has to design the pictures for easy understanding in just one glance.”

Attracting attention is one thing, but keeping it is something else altogether. In 2006, Bill Scott, senior director in the Web Development at PayPal, was enthralled by a kamishibai presentation at the conference Foo Camp in California. “It allows you the storyteller to stay engaged with the user,” he wrote on his “Looks Good Works Well” blog. “Making eyes with the audience is a powerful principle. Think of how many times you have seen a presentation where the presenter is constantly twisting their neck or turning their back to the audience to see the presentation.”

Artists inside Manga Artists Network in Arakawa Ward

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, October 14, 2011)

At your finger tips

The kamishibai presentation on that day was given by author David Battino, 46, the operator of the Web site Storycard Theater. He billed it as “PowerPoint for People,” whereby he highlighted a seminar on presentation skills and better data visualization with a kamishibai performance of “Momotaro,” a folk tale about a young boy who was discovered inside a peach and eventually matures into a powerful warrior.

Battino and his wife, Hazuki Kataoka, a 50-year-old native of Tokyo, have been publishing kamishibai story kits targeting children since 2003. Not only is eye-contact a plus, Battino says, but there is also more potential to get creative with transitioning between cards. “The control is certainly greater than you get with PowerPoint, where your transition choices are slow, medium, fast, or goofy,” he says. “When we perform for large audiences, we put our artwork on PowerPoint, and we miss the ability to slowly tease out the next card.”

For Scott, he found the transitions enjoyable, noting that if there was a quick sequence of action, Battino would rapidly switch the card; or, if there trouble was brewing, the cards would be slowly pulled.

That is important in that kamishibai stories are often structured to include suspense. Indeed, in the final Shukan Diamond page, the world’s leaders are seen trudging up a mountain slope. At the top is a flimsy-looking wood bridge leading to nowhere.

“Each scene leads into the next with a bit of mystery,” Battino says. “And in the leave-the-audience-wanting-more tradition, classic kamishibai tales were told as serials — the storyteller would stop at the most exciting part, jump on his bike, and ride away. The audience would have to come back the next day and buy more candy to find out how the story ended.”

Masako Nojima performs as Sazae-sun in Saitama Prefecture

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, October 16, 2011)

Outside the box

Like “Momotaro,” the story of “Urashima Taro” is a folk tale widely known in Japan. A fisherman time-travels 300 years into the future after meeting a turtle. When the fisherman returns to his village, he discovers that his family has vanished and he is but a vague memory. He then decides to open a box that he was clearly instructed to keep shut.

Ryuji Inoue is a small-and-medium business management consultant in Tokyo. In searching for a creative way to teach presentation skills for a class last June, he asked his students to give kamishibai performances of either folk tale. “I wanted to explain that the story is one thing, but interesting content presented in an uninteresting way will not reach an audience,” Inoue says.

Inoue stressed fluctuation in voice tone for each character and the use of pauses, much like Battino. “Most students later said that it was the first time they had ever had to think seriously about how to read something,” the consultant says.

In a similar fashion, Togawa of toy seller Cut Box will attempt to expand the possibilities of kamishibai with salesmen who come to see him. He realizes that for them it is standard practice to pull documents from a brief case at meetings. “But what if you were to put a kamishibai display case on the table instead?” he might ask. “Won’t the client wonder what will happen next?”

So the fisherman flips open the lid of the box and…

“At that point, you have their interest,” Togawa says. “The rest is up to you.”

Note: This article originally appeared in the December issue of one+ magazine.

Click cartoon to enlarge

(Cartoon by Politicomix, January 17, 2011)

With ad revenue falling, the major nets are partnering with Toho and other major distributors in an effort to fill that gap with features based on material with which local audiences are already widely familiar.

“Japan is under a unique circumstance in which terrestrial TV programming is of high quality and remains the most powerful media outlet,” says Naoki Suganuma, deputy manager within the film business division of Nippon Television Network (NTV). “And not only kids but also adults read manga in their daily lives. So it’s a natural thing for these kinds of titles to become the basis of movies.”

The result is a consolidation of power in the biz — and Hollywood, with the exception of an occasional “Pirates of the Caribbean” or “Avatar,” is increasingly losing clout.

Leading 2009 was baseball drama “Rookies,” inspired by a Tokyo Broadcasting System (TBS) series and comicbook from Masanori Morita, which took in $94.4 million. The year before, worldwide smash “The Dark Knight” was kept out of the top 10 with the help of six net-produced pics, including “Suspect X” from Fuji TV, “Boys Over Flowers: Final” by TBS and NTV’s “20th Century Boys.”

The trend dates back to the ’80s and ’90s, when the big studios largely shut down production and concentrated on distribution and exhibition. Fuji TV, however, continued to produce big-scale blockbusters — most notably “Bayside Shakedown,” the 1998 cop drama based on a TV series that was followed by a wildly popular sequel, which smashed the country’s box office record for a nonanimated film with its $172.5 million take.

“When ‘Bayside Shakedown 2′ came out in 2003, we still couldn’t imagine local productions overtaking Hollywood blockbusters,” says Minako Mita, deputy director within Fuji TV’s motion picture department, “but in a matter of a few years that is exactly what happened.”

Other nets have since followed Fuji’s move into feature production, driven in part by the weakening economy. In 2009, television advertising expenditures totaled $16 billion, down 16% vs. the previous year, reported advertising and research firm Dentsu in a media white paper.

The industry will continue with a similar strategy this year — “Bayside Shakedown 3″ is scheduled to unspool over the summer — but experts believe the trend will not last forever, given the finite amount of source material.

“We never can tell whether a TV series will be eternally popular, and the number of well-known manga is limited,” says Suganuma. “The person who discovers the next source will lead the Japanese film industry.”

Meanwhile, there are doomsayers who worry about the impact on the film business as a whole. Producer Takashige Ichise (“Ring,” “The Grudge”) says that relying on the nets for filmmaking talent creates an environment that is not suitable for making creative new films or nurturing young directors and producers.

“This year will mark the burst of this ‘bubble era’ in the film industry,” believes Ichise, “and next year it will be devastating.”

Note: This article originally ran in Variety on February 11 as a part of a package on the Berlin Film Festival.

TOKYO (TR) – It doesn’t take a genius to realize that public spaces in Japan are filled with numerous audible and visual reminders about the importance of maintaining personal decorum. Over the past year, some of the catchiest have been the “manner posters,” by graphic artist Bunpei Yorifuji, that appear in the stations and carriages that serve the nine lines of the Tokyo Metro subway system.

Since April of last year, the 35-year-old designer has produced a simple yellow-and-black image each month urging subway travelers to refrain from such generally discomfiting activities as applying makeup, falling down drunk, talking on mobile phones, occupying priority seats for the elderly, infirm or pregnant women or rushing to board as the doors are closing.

July 2008

Yorifuji and his copywriter start the process with a perusal of common complaints received by the subway operator’s Customer Relations Center. “There is no one problem that we are focusing on,” says Yuri Hitotsuyanagi, a representative of Tokyo Metro. “We would like to cover all cases by changing the design each month. Nothing is considered too big or too small.”

The posters — 700 of which are displayed in the stations and 3,300 in the cars — typically feature two recurring characters; a man with large glasses and a female (referred to by Yorifuji as the man’s wife), each of whom is being inconvenienced by the activity of an oblivious passenger, perhaps through an excessively large backpack or music blaring through headphones. The concept will often depend on the season — i.e. with Tokyo in the midst of the rainy season, June’s edition features a man carelessly shaking an umbrella.

Yorifuji, who likes to think of his work as falling somewhere between art and manga, wants the catch phrase appearing at the top, usually some variation of “Please do it at home,” to convey the repressed frustration of the typical commuter. “The glasses obfuscate the emotion and better reflect the discomfort,” he says of his male character. “People don’t explicitly express their feelings. So I am having people guess what is going on in his mind.”

Nagatacho Station

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, June 12, 2009)

Born in 1973 in Nagano Prefecture, Yorifuji studied at Musashino Art University. His company was formed in 2000 following a stint at an advertising firm. Much of his illustration and advertising output, which appears in books and magazines and on packages, has been inspired by American artist Edward Hopper and the ukiyo-e woodblock print work of Katsushika Hokusai.

Prior to the subway project, Yorifuji was probably most recognized for his stickers and bills for Japan Tobacco advising on smoking etiquette — a topic he is well versed considering that amid his office’s collection of magazines, mock-up pages and computer screens are quite a few ashtrays.

June 2008

Tokyo Metro says that assessing the effectiveness of its poster campaigns is difficult. But given the many knock-offs appearing on the Internet, the popularity of Yorifuji’s work is not in doubt. (One variation shows the designer’s bespectacled male vomiting below the catch phrase “Please do it at the pub.”)

The parodies do not bother Yorifuji, who instead believes they show that his work has reached the mainstream, a contrast to most public messages that he views as having a top-down or condescending feel. “Typical posters say ‘Don’t do this’ or ‘Don’t do that,’” says the designer. “I am saying, ‘Let’s do this,’ which I think is more positive.”

Despite international perception, developments over the last year have conveyed the idea that the behavior of the average Japanese has gone to the dogs. Poll results released by the Asahi Shimbun newspaper showed that ninety percent of 3,000 respondents surveyed found manners in Japan to have deteriorated considerably, and, within Yokohama’s subway system, green-suited minders now cruise through the cars to ask that seats be cleared for elderly and pregnant passengers.

“There is an increasing belief among the older generations that common sense is fading,” says Yuko Kawanishi, a sociologist at Tokyo Gakugei University. “The generation gap, with regards to values, is becoming wider — as is the case around the world, but especially in Japan — and these posters are fun way to remind people about behavior without being overly intrusive.”

Inside a Tokyo Metro subway car

(Photo by Tokyo Reporter, June 15, 2009)

Yorifuji is not prepared to pass judgment on the state of Japan. He argues that defining “manners” is difficult, with the meaning largely being in the eye of the beholder. He does, however, feel that people are increasingly pushing the bounds of what has been considered acceptable.

Unlike restrictions placed upon tobacco, for which some areas of Tokyo have banned smoking in the street, Yorifuji finds it preferable that people act on their own conscience and not as a result of a law.

“Japan is a country of gray zones,” he says. “Recently there has been a move to draw a line to delineate black and white, and as a result there has been some resistance. Instead of classifying something as good or bad, my ideal ad displays to people what lies in between.”

Note: This report originally appeared in the Japan Times on June 21, 2009.

That might change somewhat with publisher Top Shelf’s release later this year of AX Collection, a compilation of works taken from the small but influential Japanese bimonthly of the same name. “It will be a unique book that extends the range of manga available in English into more mature themes, experimental art styles and highly original stories,” explains the collection’s co-editor, Sean Michael Wilson. “This is very much needed, as the vast majority of the manga that’s available so far is of a relatively narrow range of styles and subjects.”

The collection, also edited by Mitsuhiro Asakawa, brings together 400 pages, spanning 10 years, of gekiga, or mature manga, that often focuses on dire themes wrapped within bizarre worlds and quirky settings. For Wilson, an artist from Edinburgh, Scotland, now living in Japan, it represents just one of a number of projects that he is involved in to educate people about manga. “Manga is a way of telling stories with visuals and text,” he explains, “and any level of story can be told that way—for children, teenagers or adults.”

A Christmas Carol

Though he has authored, drawn or edited the content of more than a dozen titles, the 38-year-old, who resides in Kumamoto on the southern island of Kyushu, is reluctant to describe himself as solely a manga artist. “What I am, first and foremost, is a creator, a writer,” he says. “When I write a script I am rarely thinking, consciously, anyway, of any manga techniques or of any famous manga artists or stories—I’m just focusing on how to tell one particular story.”

Many of Wilson’s works are not set in Japan. The graphic novel Iraq: Operation Corporate Takeover, which he authored, profiles a young Iraqi man who returns to Basra after studying medicine in London, only to find his homeland torn apart by war. While A Christmas Carol is an adaptation of the Charles Dickens classic.

Wilson admits that he is no manga expert, crediting the likes of Asakawa for sharing their knowledge. Instead, his main influences are British and American comic-book creators like Alan Moore, an English writer whose works include the graphic novels Watchmen and V for Vendetta, and Grant Morrison, a Scottish author known for his nonlinear storylines.

Iraq: Operation Corporate Takeover

In some ways, parallels can be drawn between Wilson, who arrived in Japan in 2004, and Lafcadio Hearn, the foreign writer who a century ago dazzled overseas readers with grim and fantastical tales set in his adopted home. “He lived in Kumamoto, very near the specific location where I live now,” says Wilson, who, like Hearn, is part Irish, “and he was a writer. He [was] one of the first Europeans to write extensively about Japanese culture and was a very interesting character.” Wilson’s book Lafcadio Hearn’s Japanese Ghost Stories combines 10 of Hearn’s classic tales, such as “Mimi-Nashi-Hoichi,” with an account of his life in Japan in a manga format.

Another book based on a foreign perspective is his collaboration with Sakura Mizuki. The Japanese Drawing Room recounts the true story of the seven-month journey by Merton Russell-Cotes and his wife Annie to Japan in the late 19th century. With many of the Japanese artifacts they collected, the couple would later open what is today the Russell-Cotes Art Gallery & Museum in Bournemouth, U.K.

Despite the pending publication of AX Collection, Wilson says that the biggest challenge is securing such projects. Fortunately, though, 2009 promises to be a busy year with the release of Buskers, a 120-page book with award-winning Japanese artist Michiru Morikawa, in the summer and the 100-page The Story of Lee with Chinese-Malaysian creator Eve Yap.

Manga’s global reach has never been wider. A 2006 market report by JETRO (Japan External Trade Organization) indicates that the licensing of titles for overseas publication amounts to a significant twenty five percent of total domestic licensing income.

Manga’s ever-growing popularity, Wilson believes, is owed to the comic form’s ability to make young people feel as if they belong to a select subculture, “But also manga [are] from a culture that is still exotic for most of those fans,” he adds. “It’s very different from their own life in Glasgow or Arizona or wherever. So it’s interesting and captivating.”

Note: This article originally appeared in the February issue of iNTOUCH, the magazine of the Tokyo American Club.

And now it seems there are “love hotel nanmin.” Actually for some time already, runaway girls in their teens could be seen loitering on the streets around love hotels in search of a man to provide them with accommodations for the night. But more recently, Nikkan Gendai (Jan. 31) reports, a new phenomenon has developed in which the runaway teens have been joined by women from their mid-20s to mid-30s.

According to the source, the operator of a love hotel, these women are contract or temp-help dispatch workers who have been laid off from jobs at electronic components or confectionery plants.

Linking up with johns via cell phone dating sites, their objectives are to earn income by selling their bodies while obtaining clean overnight accommodations. Usually they stay behind in the rooms after their johns have left and depart just before check-out time.

According to the source, a sure giveaway of this type of gal is their discarding of panties in the rooms. Since laundering underthings is troublesome, they tend to prefer disposable types.

Factory workers from the provinces who turn to prostitution, the source observes, are awkward and shy in the beginning. But within two months the glow begins to fade from their skin, their easygoing rustic attitude hardens, and they start wearing heavy makeup, making it difficult to differentiate them from seasoned pros.

“The other day I saw a woman — with a great pair of knockers — chasing a man through the lobby,” the hotel operator tells Nikkan Gendai. “‘Wait a minute!’ she shouted. ‘You said you’d pay me 20,000 yen. You shortchanged me by 5,000 yen short, you crook!’ All she had on were her bra and panties. Shameless. . . ”

As the economy continues its slide, this situation can only become worse. (K.S.)

Source: “Haken-kiri de karada wo uru ‘rabuho nanmin’ ga kyuzo,” Nikkan Gendai (Jan. 31, page 30)

Note: Brief extracts from Japanese vernacular media in the public domain that appear here were translated and summarized under the principle of “fair use.” Every effort has been made to ensure accuracy of the translations. However, we are not responsible for the veracity of their contents. The activities of individuals described herein should not be construed as “typical” behavior of Japanese people nor reflect the intention to portray the country in a negative manner. Our sole aim is to provide examples of various types of reading matter enjoyed by Japanese.

Just before he advances the drawing stylus down to work on her lower half, the bespectacled 49-year old explains that most of his fans don’t like looking at simply a muscled woman. He then grins and taps the stylus once more. The screen regenerates with a large phallic protrusion from her crotch area. “So I like doing something different,” he says.

For decades in Japan, the detective, romance, sci-fi, and sports stories typically found in manga serials have simply been a means of enduring a long train commute or passing time on a lunch break. But today the twists and turns that take place in these surreal worlds are gaining a following overseas, a trend that makes Maeda very pleased.

Maeda’s work, whether it be a 20-page manga or an anime video, is classified in the genre known as hentai, or perverted. Though there is a certain level of perversion in many forms of manga, in hentai perversion is the point. Storylines are secondary, or, perhaps more realistically, tertiary.

Hentai content concerns sexual situations in nearly any grotesque or violent possibility imaginable. The average piece begins with the action being akin to standard AV movie fare and then slowly morphs into a smoky sea of mayhem featuring busty young girls being sucked, fondled, bound, and penetrated by any of a dozen various appendages emanating from an alien, samurai, schoolmate, or any other living creature that might happen into the scene.

Nearly two decades ago, Maeda’s landmark comic book series “Urotsuki Doji,” featuring the first modern use of the tentacle as a tool for female molestation – a point of great pride for Maeda – cemented his place in history as the contemporary pioneer of the craft. Sales for the series totaled over 2 million volumes.

The tentacle master’s opus was subsequently made into the anime feature “Urotsuki Doji: Legend of the Overfiend.” With this release in English, Maeda’s legend grew around the world. The Erotic Anime Movie Guide claims, “No other title apart from ‘Akira’ has been so influential in the English-language market.”

Mainstream forms are undergoing a similar trend. This month Shonen Jump launched an English version of its best-selling weekly Japanese manga in the U.S. Publisher Shueisha has joined Viz Communications, Inc. to deliver such popular ongoing series as “Yu-Gi-Oh!,” “Slam Dunk,” and “Dragon Ball Z” in a monthly volume for American readers, primarily teenage boys. Initial runs will number 250,000 copies – an unprecedented circulation for such a publication.

This comes fresh on the heels of such recently successful Japanese anime features as “Pokemon” (and its seemingly endless marketing in trading cards and action figures) and Hayao Miyazaki’s “Princess Mononoke.” The latter gained accolades from Hollywood with its unique animation being seen as a true innovation in filmmaking. This year Miyazaki’s “Spirited Away” took the coveted Golden Bear at the 52nd Berlin International Film Festival Award.

For Maeda, his international audience is much more select. The artist’s latest anime home video series “La Blue Girl,” where young female superheroes band together to fend off the continual advances of man and beast, appears in a half-dozen languages.

Even though some manga has been available in the U.S. for over 10 years, Maeda sees Shonen Jump’s arrival as a potential introduction of his work to a wider audience.

“I think it’s great,” the artist says of the move overseas by the mainstream publisher. “After the audience in the U.S. reads Shonen Jump-type of manga, when they grow up, they can read our style of manga, X-rated manga, or manga stories for adults.”

Should Shonen Jump be a success, the potential market could be huge. Roughly 3,000 manga artists in Japan put ink to paper to crank out nearly 50 weeklies, bi-weeklies, and monthlies. Of these, about 10 can claim a circulation of over one million for each issue. The total annual sales of 600 billion yen amount to one quarter of Japan’s entire book market.

The challenges, however, will likely be numerous. For one, the storylines are different. Standard American comics, like Batman, Spiderman, and Mighty Mouse, have a hero – it is good versus evil. Manga stories are more complex, and, aside from exaggerated scenes of fantasy, violence, and sex, tend to not be too dissimilar from everyday life. Many of the most popular comics are made into evening television dramas.

Capturing the imaginations of American readers will also be a difficulty for Shonen Jump, which generates a readership of 3.4 million each week in Japan. The cultural mindset in the U.S. dictates that comic books are for children. In Japan, there is a manga title for nearly every age group.

“It is letting off steam,” Maeda says of why adults can be found in nearly every public setting in Japan leafing through page after page of their favorite manga. “We read it as a regular book.”

The reason for this can be traced to the work of Tezuka Osamu and the environment in Japan immediately following the Occupation in the 1950s. At that time, there were very few televisions. Adults, as well as children, demanded to be entertained at a reasonable level of sophistication, and Osamu delivered with the adventures of the tremendously popular Mighty Atom.

Hentai’s roots date back much further. “The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife,” an Edo Period (1603-1867) ukiyo-e woodcut by Hokusai, shows a reclining and unclothed woman being wrapped and violated by octopus tentacles.

Though a motorbike accident a year and a half ago left him with a limited ability in his drawing hand to apply the proper pressure needed to draw with ink, Maeda can use his computer to create various characters and the script for his next anime feature, likely to be completed next year.

No matter what happens with Shonen Jump the content of Maeda’s work will not be compromised. The cutting edge will always be his drawing board. Like most artists, he believes his best work is ahead of him, and scoffs at any suggestion that “Urotsuki Doji” is his masterpiece.

In spite of requests from fans for samurai or ninja warriors to be included in his stories, Maeda says that his work will always focus on his concept of art. “Over the hill” is how he describes any artist who changes his style to meet the trends of the day.

“I have a priority to my taste,” Maeda explains. “I just want to do what I want to do. You must understand that Shonen Jump is only a seed. It is up to manga artists to cultivate it in our own way.”

That might mean a world that will one day find itself at the mercy of a tentacle embrace.

Note: This article originally appeared in November 2002 on the Sake-Drenched Postcards Web page.

Shukan Bunshun’s weekly column, “Shukujo no Zasshi kara” (from ladies’ magazines), features this gem, excerpted from the November issue of Ai no Taiken Special Deluxe.

“One day, I was taking a shower,” she relates. “And while directing the shower head on myself down there, I started feeling really good. Suddenly, I sensed someone was behind me and when I turned around, I saw my husband, watching me masturbate! And what’s more, he wasn’t just watching, but was shooting my picture with a cell phone camera.

“At first I was surprised, but realizing I had an audience I got even more excited! I continued stimulating myself, and as he looked on, I came.

“My husband and I often peruse raunchy ‘ladies comics’ (manga for adult females) together,” she adds. “It’s nice when a couple can have interests in common.” (K.S.)

Source: “Shukujo no Zasshi kara,” Shukan Bunshun, (Nov. 20, page 120)

Note: Brief extracts from Japanese vernacular media in the public domain that appear here were translated and summarized under the principle of “fair use.” Every effort has been made to ensure accuracy of the translations. However, we are not responsible for the veracity of their contents. The activities of individuals described herein should not be construed as “typical” behavior of Japanese people nor reflect the intention to portray the country in a negative manner. Our sole aim is to provide examples of various types of reading matter enjoyed by Japanese.

From that auspicious beginning, Maeda’s work blossomed over next two decades, one tentacle at a time. Subsequent work included the six-volume “Trap of Blood” and the very successful tentacle-rape opus “La Blue Girl.” Though a recent traffic accident has left him with limited drawing abilities, next year – fresh on the heels of the worldwide success of his recent “La Blue Girl” animation series – he plans on releasing a new anime feature and contributing to the women’s hentai manga magazine Amour. In preparation for the latter, he is being forced to change gears; much to his chagrin, he is poring over scripts for such TV shows as Ally McBeal to “understand women’s feelings.” This is in the hopes of creating a hentai piece that will satisfy the demands of females.

Interview

Tokyo Reporter: When we spoke before, you said that your influences were not Japanese comics like Mighty Atom. Instead, you read Mighty Mouse, Spiderman, and Batman when you were young. Can you talk about your influences?

Toshio Maeda: Also Disney, typical style, such as “Fantasia,” which is a little bit too sophisticated – it has class. So when I was young, I couldn’t understand the quality. Of course, now I do. To a kid, it is a little bit too difficult to understand how great it was.

I was influenced and fascinated by the American style. Bernie Wrightson – Swamp Thing. Neil Adams, Joe Kubert, and Gil Kane. ‘Genius’ is what I call them. They are all living inside of my work.

TR: When you were 16 years old you came to Tokyo from Osaka to be an assistant to a professional cartoonist. What were those days like?

TM: At that time, I already knew all about manga. I was self-taught. I learned a lot just through reading manga. Since I was 5 or 6 I had been reading a lot of manga. I was crazy about manga – a manga geek or a manga buff, I was.

At that time, we Japanese people were all poor. There was a certain system, a rental system, like a rental video shop nowadays. We went to a rental bookstore. It was cheap, nothing like today. The size [of the book] was much smaller. Not so many stories and I believe 20 yen for a day, or a couple of days…sometimes 10 yen for a day. That is why I could read that style of manga. We called it kashihon (book lending).

TR: In Western comics, like Spiderman or Batman, there is a hero, but in manga it is different – there are no heroes or bad guys. Can you explain that?

TM: People [in Japan] got fed up reading the same style of manga. In the U.S., I think it should be kept, in a way, because kids of a certain age read it, right? So it should be a simple, a plain story – good guy fighting bad guy – is quite understandable.

In Japan, we are living in a so-called homogeneous society, and compared to American society it is a mixed culture. In a homogeneous society – to a certain level, if we read a difficult story, we can understand it because we have a lot of things in common; we are on the same wave. But in America, or another Western country, the culture is so mixed. The people are coming from other countries. They don’t have just one culture, they are diverse.

They [Americans] are capable of creating a complicated story. I know that. But if they did it, a kid would not like it. So in a way, we have to educate the reader, the audience, to a certain degree. In doing so, we can educate ourselves as to what type of manga we should create in the future.

Instead of reading literature, we [Japanese] simply read manga for grownups. I strongly recommend to youngsters: read literature. But manga is an art book, ‘art literature’ we call it. It is easier to read, and it is cheaper.

Before I was age 20, I had read more than 10,000 books of literature. All sorts of books, so many genres and fields of books. I was really interested in reading and watching movies. That is what made me a professional cartoonist.

TR: What kinds of literature?

TM: Any classics…any kind of genre, including obscene books. I believe reading books makes you different. But reading only manga will get you nowhere (laughs)…Even though I am a professional cartoonist and it is my meal ticket to sell manga.

But reading manga is just fun. That’s all. It doesn’t make you a better person. So I strongly recommend to youngsters to not just read manga, but also to read books and listen to music.

TR: Can you talk about how the tentacle came to be used in your work?

TM: At that time [pre-"Urotsuki Doji"], it was illegal to create a sensual scene in bed. I thought I should do something to avoid drawing such a normal sensual scene. So I just created a creature. His tentacle is not a penis as a pretext. I could say, as an excuse, this is not a penis, this is just a part of the creature. You know, the creatures, they don’t have a gender. A creature is a creature. So it is not obscene, and not illegal.

Drawing intercourse was, and is, illegal in Japan. That is our big headache: to create such a sensual scene. We are always using any trick imaginable.

TR: The high school girl seems to be a common victim. Why is that?

TM: Personally I don’t like it. In Japan, there are so many maniac people who like the innocent type of young girl. It is their taste. It is almost criminal.

I don’t want some young girl to be kidnapped or raped. I don’t like that style. More to my liking is a style based on a Japanese samurai or ninja falling in love with a regular girl.

TR: What was behind the creation of the landmark “Urotsuki Doji?”

TM: At that time, I was dealing with manga for an adult magazine. I really wanted to create something different, but the editor wanted me to create some regular manga for adults – like a typical type of salaryman falling in love with an office lady…or such a boring story like that. But I just wanted to make something different. The chief editor was against my idea, but I insisted.

TR: What were your early days as a cartoonist like?

TM: Before I became independent cartoonist, I was wondering which way to go: manga for kids or manga for grownups. I chose manga for grownups because there are so many taboo in kids’ manga…not only about sensual scenes, but also religion and political themes.

I did some work as a kids’ manga cartoonist actually, but as soon as I began to do my work I was fed up with the rules and codes. For an example of what I mean, there was an incident with Green Lantern. Neil Adams drew a scene in which a man or boy was going to give a shot into his arm and he had to rewrite it because that type of scene was a sensitive issue. That is what I am talking about.

TR: Do you ever have young kids that wish to be apprentices under you?

TR: (grimaces) So many kids. They want to be a professional cartoonist through my firm. But I am quite happy to make an amateur a professional.

In the beginning, they have nothing; some are good, but I like to choose the bad students. I like to take them from to nothing to the level of professional cartoonists. I just emphasize: guts and perspective. If they have enough balls, you know, or are smart enough, or have a unique enough outlook, I think they can make it as a professional. It has nothing to do with their skills in doing art.

Being an assistant or professional cartoonist is hard work. Do you have the guts to work 8 days a week? No time for R&R – just working and working, nothing else.

TR: What do you think of the success of “Spirited Away?”

TM: I really admire that [Hayao] Miyazaki is keeping with his style. It is, you know, really quite tough to keep your own style. In the beginning his work was not selling a lot. They were struggling with great difficulty to make something new with a small budget. I really admire that.

Myself, I am not a man who prepares for a rainy day. I have an easy money policy. A cartoonist has to be on the edge – standing against the strong wind. That is why I am always trying to seek something dangerous.

TR: Can you discuss your upcoming contribution to the women’s hentai manga magazine?

TM: Women’s hentai is totally different. It is from a woman’s point of view. It looks similar but the concept is totally different.

No one in Western countries can imagine that this type of magazine is quite popular among Japanese ladies because Japanese ladies are considered conservative. But actually, they are maniacs sometimes.

When they learn that I am a cartoonist for x-rated manga, they openly talk about sex with me. They don’t hesitate to talk about themselves – how they are horny, how they are lonely, or about using a dildo. But I don’t believe it. Well, actually I don’t like to believe it. Personally, I like a conservative lady – the innocent, old-fashioned type.

Note: All drawing images courtesy of Toshio Maeda. This article originally appeared in January 2003 on the Sake-Drenched Postcards Web page.

Large stacks of dusty manga comic books are on the edge of each step. Upon reaching the basement, more multi-colored volumes can be seen running half-way to the ceiling. A cluttered desk holds five mugs of pens and an inkwell. Just below are a drawing board and color pictures of bikini-clad young girls beneath heavy see-through plastic shields. These ladies are used as drawing guides for Oshima, who is a manga artist specializing in adult comics.

Oshima does not consider his comics to be pure hentai manga, whose focus is on the molestation of women through the use of elongated tongues, tentacles, or other long, thin probes. Though he has dabbled in the hentai genre, his 25-year career has mainly featured women simply enjoying sex.

His “Kanji Sasete Baby” series from 15 years ago was his breakthrough. It appeared in Young Magazine with a translation into Italian appearing 10 years later. Today, Bazooka, Shuman Special, Geino Nippon, and the women’s monthly Amour regularly feature his comics.

Like most artists, Oshima has a trademark easily identifiable by his devotees: women with extremely large, round breasts. To be more specific, Oshima’s rendering of the female mammary carriage takes the form of a pair of gravity-defying Christmas tree bulbs on steroids.

His start in the business was not conventional. While he was enrolled at Tokyo’s prestigious Waseda University as a business student, Oshima was coaxed by hentai manga legend Toshio Maeda to drop his textbooks in favor of an ink pen. He’s been drawing balloon-breasted females in various compromising positions of ecstasy ever since. “I ruined his life,” Maeda jokes about his influence on Oshima’s move from business to busts.

Interview

Captain Japan: For a Western reader, your sort of manga might be seen as surprising, maybe sort of shocking, especially considering that some of your work is directed at women. It sort of goes against traditional Japanese stereotypes. What do you think about that?

Takeshi Oshima: Recently, a French journalist wrote an article wondering why Japanese ladies are reading this type of trash. He wondered, are Japanese ladies sluts? I do feel strange that some women like rape and molestation stories. But, you know, I believe this sort of magazine is a way to unleash their carnal desires.

CJ: A few years ago, a journalist from the New York Times, Nicholas Kristof, touched upon some similar themes in his articles. He received a lot of pressure from the Japanese community in the U.S. because they felt his portrayal of Japanese women was not quite accurate. Do you think Japanese women are really demure and conservative, as the stereotype goes?

TO: Yes, that’s true. But, you know, you have several feelings inside of you. Sometimes you are innocent; sometimes you are indecent – it is part of being a human being.

(He holds up a copy of Amour – Captain.) This magazine sort of puts a light on the dark side of these ladies because even a sophisticated lady likes to be a slut in certain situations. But I must emphasize that these types of magazines are read by regular office ladies – they are single and lonely. You know, about 15 years ago this magazine wouldn’t have been possible. It shows that women’s interests have been changing.

CJ: When I spoke with Toshio Maeda, he said that he was reading scripts for television shows and movies directed at women to understand their feelings. What do you do?

TO: I access the internet and chat with women. The girls are always amazed with my technique for hitting on them. I can understand their fantasy completely. I sort of have a special way of whispering to them through typing. It is only typing, but don’t tell my wife! (laughs) In fact, this morning I did it. It is sort of like fishing.

He moves over to his computer monitor to the left of his drawing board where he brings up a dialogue which has a log of a conversation with a married 31-year-old whose husband is sleeping. He asks what she wants and she responds. The statements are brief and to the point – the neck is kissed, nipples are touched, the hair is stroked – and culminate with her exclamations of cyber, or maybe real, ecstasy.

CJ: I am a little interested in your family. When we were upstairs I saw your wife and son. Are you worried about the influence your work might have on your son?

TO: Right now he is in junior high school. So far he hasn’t seen any of my work. But, you know, when he gets older, it will be okay for him to see what I am doing. It is nothing harmful, and at around the age of 14 or 15, it might be acceptable for him.

CJ: And your wife?

TO: She doesn’t care at all. Before we were married she knew what I was doing. In Japan, work has nothing to do with one’s personality. Work is work. Work is the way you feed your family. The bottom line is how much money you make.

CJ: Do you have fans writing to you with their reactions to your work?

TO: (Again, he holds up a copy of Amour – Captain.) In this magazine, there is a survey section and I am able to read some of the responses. Girls write in and confess their fantasy.

After digging through his files, he finds one example from a 31-year old office lady: “I would like to see lesbian comics. Please teach me the appropriate techniques. I really admire these stories because it could never happen with me. But I hope it could one day.”

CJ: Why did you choose adult comics instead of kids’ comics?

TO: It is more difficult to make stories for kids – you must maintain a level of popularity. If you fail, you’ll be fired quickly. It is a severe situation with the competition because new artists are always entering the field.

Adult comics are easier – there is no hard competition. For kids’ magazines, you have to be edgy. The feeling, how do I say, you have to know what’s in, what’s out – the trends of the day.

CJ: How is business these days versus, say, 10 years ago? Is it tough to get these writing jobs?

TO: Very…tough. And it is energy-consuming work. It might take 3 or 4 days to draw one comic. But after that, you are exhausted completely.

And business is getting worse – it’s the recession. Before the salaryman could buy at least a couple of books each week. But now, maybe just one. And discount shops and manga kissa (A store where one pays to read comics for an hourly rate – Captain.) are taking away sales. It’s tough all around.

CJ: I asked Toshio Maeda about his influences and he said he was heavily influenced by American comics when he was young. How about you?

TO: Well, very old Japanese cartoonists influenced me. Maybe a little bit by Tezuka Osamu and “Mighty Atom,” but I really liked Shirato Sanpei and his ninja stories. He was a legend. It wasn’t just a funny story; he also included communist themes, as he was a known communist, with stories about one such character, Sasuke, who was struggling to survive in a particular society.

Also, when I was in elementary school, I was very heavily influenced by Akatsuka Fujio – the gag manga genius. In Japan, you can find cynical or sarcastic stories in gag manga. It is really totally different from simple gags seen in Western comedy. Reading between the lines in gag manga is very funny. It is nothing like “The Three Stooges.”

Note: All drawing images provided by Takeshi Oshima. This article originally appeared in January 2003 on the Sake-Drenched Postcards Web page.