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| From
the September/October 2007 issue of The Horn Book Magazine Gender Alchemy:
A genre called “boys’ love” has its own particular following among female readers. Boys’ love is exactly what it sounds like: manga that focuses on romantic relationships between two boys. Boys’ love is a blanket term that includes yaoi (boy/boy stories for adults) and its tamer cousin, shonen-ai. The distinction is important since, according to the manga ratings system, yaoi is usually stamped M for mature and is not sold to anyone under eighteen. There is, however, plenty of shonen-ai for the lower age brackets. Though sometimes sensational in their plots, these stories raise thought-provoking questions of what it means to be a boy or girl, how each gender is supposed to feel or act, and how exactly sexual attraction operates. A good deal of manga also incorporates forms of gender-bending, such as cross-dressing, which delve into some of the same territory. All of this begs the question: why is boys’ love so popular with girls? I’ve heard female readers say that the experience of reading a gay romance feels “safe” to them because they — girls — aren’t in the story. A male/male story allows a female reader to enter dangerous territory with a measure of impunity. In a story about two boys, a female reader is less likely to think, “That could be me.” Her imagination is allowed to run wild without consequence to her body or her psyche. Fake, for instance, is about two New York cops who are partnered despite their vastly different personalities. The openly gay Dee constantly hits on and sometimes even kisses Ryo, who is purportedly straight. In a male/ female partnership, the situation might make a reader feel uncomfortable or even threatened — in real life, that would certainly be the case — but because the two characters are male, something different happens. We always have the sense that Ryo could defend himself or counter Dee’s advances. Ryo never feels threatened, most likely because he is Dee’s physical equal. Therefore, what would be unequivocal sexual harassment is rendered harmless. When Dee kisses him one night, Ryo allows it, thinking, “Oh, well . . . Maybe just this once,” a reaction that stands in contrast to the likely female response: feelings of powerlessness or anger. In addition to the sense of physical safety shonen-ai offers female readers, there’s also an element of emotional safety. All the confusion, mixed signals, and heartache of love can be experienced at an even further remove than in a boy/girl romance (or even a girl/girl romance). The wildly popular shonen-ai series Gravitation is the improbable story of an aspiring young rock star and his constant run-ins with a handsome but aloof writer who likes to be nice to him, then insult him — a familiar dynamic of middle-school and high-school dating. The series mines the fantasy of someone young and inexperienced capturing the attention of someone not only older but also famous. Shuichi’s consternation regarding Eiri, his older would-be boyfriend, is palpable and familiar, and the outlandish circumstances of the story serve to highlight normal emotions, such as anxiety about being as popular or cool as your crush, worrying what other people think, and dealing with the inexplicable behavior of a boyfriend or girlfriend. The series’s humor comes from the fact that it is a boy, rather than a girl, displaying insecurity in a relationship. It’s funny rather than sad to see Shuichi obsessing over the seemingly unattainable Eiri. Shuichi and Eiri meet when Shuichi accidentally drops his amateurish song lyrics on the ground. Eiri picks them up, reads them, and proceeds to tell Shuichi what a terrible wordsmith he is, setting in motion Shuichi’s self-doubt — and yearning. Later, with friends, Shuichi relates the experience, claiming, “I don’t care! Who said I did?! I just wanna find him and . . . make him take it back!” But then he reveals that he does care what Eiri thinks: “He was just so . . . He was kind of cool.” Thus begins Shuichi’s romantic quest. Near the end of volume one, he shouts the fact of his gayness to the rooftops. Eiri responds, “Why are you in love with me? Are you insane? Even if I weren’t straight, you don’t even know me.” Right after his declaration of straightness, Eiri leans in and gives Shuichi a five-panel kiss, which sends Shuichi into a super-value-size freakout. Eiri immediately becomes cold and dismisses Shuichi. With all its indecision, hesitation, doubt, denial, and momentary regret, the story is remarkably true to life, but also bears some resemblance to classic romances such as Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre, in which the male love interests at first seem to be unkind or cruel, but whose defenses are eventually breached by the female protagonists. For the female reader, there is pleasure to be had in seeing a boy ride the emotional rollercoaster and express all of the hesitations and uncertainties often associated with female characters in a romance. Off*Beat is an American comic, but though it reads left to right it is otherwise published like a manga volume. In the contemporary New York story, clueless high-schooler Tory obsessively spies on fellow classmate Colin and records everything in his journal under the guise of investigating suspicious activity. Granted, Colin leads a strange life that is most certainly tied to government experiments and secrets, but any teen reader will be absolutely clear about the real reason for Tory’s persistent lurking. At one point, Tory thinks, “2:43 P.M. He smiled and waved to me . . . Should I write that down?” Later, Tory calls Colin on the phone, and his mother interrupts, causing Tory to end the call quickly. “Sorry I interrupted,” she says, “Are you okay? You look flustered . . . Who was that? Someone . . . special?” Like Gravitation, the story uses dramatic devices to communicate the intensity of Tory’s emotions and validate the level of his obsession. Tory believes he is interested because the police show up at Colin’s house, because Colin misses classes all the time, and because Colin won’t reveal personal information. Not because he thinks Colin is cute. The clues aren’t only in the story but also in design elements familiar to manga readers: visual “blushes” created by textured backgrounds, or a floral motif when two characters have scenes together. Only the Ring Finger Knows is the story of a high-school boy, Wataru, who discovers that he wears the same ring as the popular Yuichi. At their school, matching rings indicate that two people are a couple, which in Wataru and Yuichi’s case is far from true. The plot is stock romance: two characters who have nothing in common are drawn together by a simple but insistent twist of fate. Misunderstandings present obstacles, but there is little doubt of the outcome. What sets this story apart are the scenes of quiet reflection, highlighted in the illustrations. Manga, particularly manga for girls, often employs floral or botanical decorations and motifs to emphasize or betray a character’s emotional state, but in this story, more effectively than in most, nature is used to create emotion, something one rarely finds in American comics. One particularly masterful spread not only provides an economical summary of the plot so far, but also works in Wataru’s vivid sensory memory of being close to Yuichi; the “whussh” of leaves in the wind, the setting of a spring day symbolizing new love and romance; and, in the center of the scene, the direct superimposition of Yuichi’s face onto Wataru’s thoughts. The same artist works her magic in Time Lag, which, like Ring Finger, is based on a novel. Two high-school boys overcome the obstacles of misunderstanding for a dramatic romantic conclusion. Friends since childhood, Satoru and Shirou experience a devastating miscommunication when Shirou sends Satoru a love letter asking him to meet him under the sakura tree if he feels the same. Unfortunately, Satoru never receives the letter, and so never goes to the tree, causing Shirou to feel rejected and humiliated. Though Satoru, in fact, returns Shirou’s love, he can’t understand why they begin to grow apart. Throughout the story, both boys remain completely in love with each other, though neither believes the other loves him. Satoru makes a yearly tradition of declaring his love for Shirou, but Shirou is convinced that Satoru is only mocking him. For his part, Shirou goes out of his way to attend the same school as Satoru, even though he feels they will never be together. Neither boy dates anyone else. Years later, Satoru and Shirou are at a seemingly hopeless nadir. In an artfully rendered spread, the two boys walk apart, panel by panel, underneath the very tree where they missed their first connection years ago. Thinking all hope is lost, Satoru says, “The sakura blossoms . . . They bloom so fast. They’re already falling.” When Shirou agrees, it’s a wonderfully understated yet poignant moment, proving that even stories that stretch credulity can contain kernels of truth and beauty. Boys’ love is predominantly written by female manga-ka (manga creators) for female readers. The appeal may seem inexplicable to those with more traditional literary preferences: Jane Austen never would have paired Darcy and Bingley, though surely more than one manga-ka has considered such a prospect. Boys’ love takes some cues from Harlequin romance and is often dismissed as pulp fiction, but the genre owes a great debt to Austen and her successors. Boys’ love takes the conventions of romance and turns them on their heads. In these stories, there is no possibility of marriage, there are no risks of pregnancy, and most importantly, a significant number of the male characters are feminized both in action and in body: emotional and sensitive, with willowy bodies and feathery hair, they are not at all intimidating and are much like their female readers, both inside and out. If female readers are empowered by reading stories in which men are the romantic principals, they may derive the same feeling from stories in which gender is completely irrelevant in other ways. Manga, in general, is known for its gender-bending story lines, and almost every incarnation of cross-dressing receives manga treatment. Some stories, such as Never Give Up, are more serious romances. Tomboyish Kiri worries when her friend/crush, Tohya, is recruited to be a male model. Kiri will go to any length to be near Tohya, including posing as a male model so she can go on shoots with him. Predictably, the other male models are gay and go for the cross-dressing Kiri, but all Kiri wants is to be small and girlish so she can stand beside Tohya as his “princess.” Similarly, in Hana-Kimi, track star Mizuki so idolizes high-jumper Izumi that she decides to disguise herself as a boy in order to go to Izumi’s all-boys school. Attending classes and living in a dorm with her male classmates, Mizuki is constantly at risk of being discovered. As in Never Give Up, the female protagonist can’t be with the boy she likes unless she becomes a boy herself. It’s the source of much comedy, but also a generous helping of wish-fulfillment. What girl hasn’t wanted to be a boy at some point in her life? What girl hasn’t wanted to have the privileges and the opportunities afforded the other gender? Being a boy allows Mizuki to experience the world as a boy and to gain some insight into the other sex. She, in effect, becomes an insider, privy to information often inaccessible to girls, but unlike in a boys’ love story, the main character really is a girl, and she is given an opportunity to transform herself. The female reader can identify directly and can undergo the transformation along with the protagonist. Manga isn’t without boys posing as girls, though many of those stories are published for adults. The stories commonly involve a boy being dressed as a girl to stand in place of a sister slated for marriage. It’s easy to see where the inspiration for stories like this originates: in the desire to change circumstances imposed by culture and custom, putting men in the lesser position of power; and in the desire to relate in a different way to men, particularly when it comes to sex. The Day of Revolution takes role-playing a step further by featuring a protagonist who, at age fifteen, is told that, chromosomally, he’s a girl. Instead of continuing to live as a boy, Kei completely changes his outward gender, returning to school with a girl’s name (Megumi) and uniform. As Megumi, Kei is constantly hit on by his former group of male friends, a situation that overwhelms him. He is made to experience the trials of being female, and the social inferiority of his new position is brought up again and again as he is harassed, bullied, and even groped by boys at school. After being physically attacked, he thinks, “But now I understand. I thought I did before, but this has driven it home to me . . . I really am . . . a ‘girl’ now.” Rescued by her new female friend, Makoto, Megumi declares, “Makoto . . . She’s so soft and warm . . . and she makes me feel safe,” emphasizing the manga-ka’s point: being a girl is risky and dangerous, being a boy is safe. Girls posing as boys gain power, but boys who pose as girls are stripped of theirs. But is that really true? The lighthearted manga W Juliet presents an alternative viewpoint. Like the Shakespearean plays that influence it, W Juliet uses comedy to deal with serious issues. Ito, the protagonist, is a tomboy involved in the drama club. When she gets cast as Romeo in the club’s production of Romeo and Juliet, she is annoyed. Enter new student Makoto, who gets cast as Juliet. Makoto is so pretty that she steals the show as the doomed heroine. The only trouble is that Makoto is a boy. His dream is to be an actor rather than to inherit the dojo his father owns. Makoto’s father issues an ultimatum: if Makoto can live life as a girl and graduate from high school without anyone discovering his secret, then he can have his independence. Ito does discover Makoto’s secret but vows to keep it, and the two of them fall in love, obliterating the lines drawn between male and female, since they both appear to be the opposite of what they are. Both W Juliet and Day of Revolution have much in common with the plot of Shakespeare’s As You Like It, where the banished Rosalind dresses as a boy and flees to the Forest of Arden, where she overcomes obstacles to find true love. Day of Revolution is not quite as happy, but, though Kei is weakened by his transition to female, he also discovers a different, closer relationship with Makoto than he could have had as a boy. And herein lies the real appeal of boys’ love manga. It postulates that gender fluidity and change are ways we can identify with those who are different from us, experience new things, and, most importantly, achieve things that were impossible before. Just as in As You Like It, changing gender is liberating, an escape from parental strictures, and a means of getting the things one wants. We all need a safe place, a Forest of Arden, where we can try on different identities without consequence, a place where we can resolve our problems and face our fears — and boys’ love manga provides exactly that.
TITLES DISCUSSED ABOVE Emura W Juliet; illus. by the author, trans. from the Japanese by William Flanagan (Viz, 2004) Shinobu Gothoh Time Lag; illus. by Hotaru Odagiri, trans. from the Japanese by Wasabi Media (DMP, 2005) Satoru Kannagi Only the Ring Finger Knows; illus. by Hotaru Odagiri, trans. from the Japanese by Sachiko Sato (DMP, 2004) Sanami Matoh Fake; illus. by the author, trans. from the Japanese by Nan Rymer (Tokyopop, 2003) Maki Murakami Gravitation; illus. by the author, trans. from the Japanese by Ray Yoshimoto (Tokyopop, 2003) Hiromu Muto Never Give Up; illus. by the author, trans. from the Japanese by Mike Kiefl (Tokyopop, 2006) Hisaya Nakajo Hana-Kimi: For You in Full Blossom; illus. by the author, trans. from the Japanese by David Ury (Viz, 2004) Jen Lee Quick Off*Beat; illus. by the author (Tokyopop, 2005) Mikiyo Tsuda The Day of Revolution; illus. by the author, trans. from the Japanese by Sachiko Sato (DMP, 2006).
From the September/October 2007 issue of The Horn Book Magazine |
anga.
The word might feel foreign on most Americans’ tongues, but
these Japanese comics — collected in small paperback editions
and meant to be read from back to front and right to left —
are becoming increasingly popular. With manga now accounting for
two-thirds of all graphic-novel sales in U.S. bookstores, publishers
can barely keep up with demand. Like the English word comics,
the term manga encompasses everything from action-adventure
to romance to supernatural fantasy, but unlike Western comic publishers,
manga publishers have for a long time printed a broad spectrum of
titles that appeal to girls.
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