Ayako [Englisch] [Gebundene Ausgabe]

Ayako weighs in at exactly 700 pages, making it a book to be reckoned with. It is in fact a Book, beautiful and well-published (but probably too big to carry around casually; an e-reader edition would have been awesome, but alas). Perhaps because of the way it has been published, in a tasteful, hardcover, single-volume edition, its ad copy attempts to market it as a Novel, stating, "Ayako looms as a pinnacle of Naturalist literature in Japan with few peers even in prose, the striking heroine a potent emblem of things left unseen by the war." I read the publicity, got really excited, and had Amazon ship it to me on the day it came out. If people were comparing Ayako to Faulkner and Tolstoy, why shouldn't I read it immediately? Unfortunately, although Ayako is certainly a major accomplishment in the field of graphic novels, I am going to have to put my foot down and declare that it is not in fact on par with the best of Japanese prose. Far from it. As literature, Ayako is riddled with problems.

Let's start with the storytelling. The plot is highly improbable from beginning to end, and its developments often don't make much sense if the reader begins to question them. The ending, which reeks of poetic justice, feels especially heavy handed. If one simply accepts the story as it unfolds, it's not so far-fetched that it's ridiculous, but "a pinnacle of Naturalist literature" it is not. The pacing is also highly uneven; certain key plot points happen way too quickly. This refusal to let the reader slow down and figure out what's happening is especially bad at the beginning and end of the book, which are obviously the worst places for a hastily drawn story.

Another thing I expect from the novels I read are a cast of deep, multi-faceted characters, but the dramatis personae of Ayako are all one-dimensional. The Tenge patriarch and his oldest son, for example, are evil simply because they're bad people. The two most complex characters, Jiro and Shiro, merely flip between "good" and "bad" like cutout paper puppets. Ayako, who has the potential to be the most interesting character, is the most disappointing. The cover of the book says everything you need to know about her: she is young, beautiful, and mysterious, and she very much wants to have sex with you. We see her breasts, butt, thighs, and panties more than we hear her speak. Of course she is seriously psychologically damaged, but Tezuka doesn't give this the narrative weight it deserves, choosing instead to have us view her through the eyes of his male characters, who regard her as both pitiful and sexually irresistible. A "striking heroine" and a "potent emblem," indeed.

Other minor characters are so cartoonish and caricatured that they don't add much of anything to the story. In fact, one might say they detract from it. Multiple clones of Popeye, Olive Oil, and Dick Tracy don't really help the story construct itself as "serious literature," and Tezuka's brief attempts at humor feel inane and misplaced. On that note, the art quality in Ayako can sometimes be shockingly bad. The cartoon character designs and the rushed artwork are much better, however, than Tezuka's occasional attempts at realism. Such drawings are, quite honestly, unlovely, and their effect on the flow of the story is akin to someone jumping onto the train tracks.

Such an awkward analogy brings me to my final point of contention: the translation. I believe that dialect is something that is much more natural and naturalized in written Japanese than it is in written English. Unfortunately, the translation of Ayako not only draws unnecessary attention to itself but also robs the Tenge family of any power, dignity, tragedy, or pathos they might have originally had by making them sound like the Beverly Hillbillies. There are also strange aberrations in the speech of certain characters, such as when a character with otherwise unmarked speech suddenly starts calling people "Guv'nor" in the last quarter of the book.

Any of these problem areas - narrative structure, pacing, characterization, art, translation - would potentially be a deal-breaker by itself, but together they make Ayako awkward and almost unreadable at times. Ayako is therefore a deeply flawed work, and its flaws are of the type that are simply annoying without adding any depth to the story. I am giving the book four stars, because, despite everything, it is an excellent graphic novel. If you come to it expecting a literary masterpiece on par with The Makioka Sisters or The Sound and the Fury, however, you're going to be sorely disappointed. Ayako is not high literature. It is a comic book: an engaging and thought-provoking one that was ahead of its time, but a comic book nonetheless. It is not for literary types seeking an introduction to manga, and it is not for casual manga fans seeking an introduction to Tezuka. Unless you're really sure that you want to read Ayako, warts and all, you're better off trying a Tezuka title like Buddha or Phoenix. Better yet, skip the history lesson and go straight to Naoki Urasawa, who achieves the beauty of art and novelistic scope and density of character that perhaps Tezuka could have aimed for had he not been working on a dozen projects at once.

Of all the reviews I've read of this book, the most strikingly off are written here. I found this work to be a near-masterstroke of comix genius, sans a few things here and there, which the other reviewers have pointed out well (and not so well). I couldn't help but feel this was an epic on the scale of "Apollo's Song", though "Ayako" follows a very different story arch (one of family and not of self). Sakuemon Tenge, in his most feverish moments, reminded me of none other than King Lear; a despot and a fool despite his title among the country's men. The characterization of many here is deep, and like most Tezuka (and Shakespeare), he is concerned with what Jacobethan's would've called "problem plays"-- the moral center of Tezuka's characters is never fully defined, we are only witness to their actions as they unfold. Some have called the narrative sloppy. No one dare call "Hamlet"'s narrative plot-holed; with epic tragedy some element of fantasy must be obtained while an element of disbelief must also be held to continue an otherwise ending narrative yarn (think Rosencrantz and Guildenstern's "dilemma"). The titular character herself is left alone (literally and not) for much of the book. Those like myself, interested in the punishments that Malvolio faced in Twelfth Night, wish she had more introspective depth and poise. A minor complaint.

Those saying the ending was a little ham-fisted: we're in agreement, here. It feels rushed, and like "Dororo" and "Phoenix" was probably a result of Tezuka working on a dozen projects at once. If any man could pull off that work ethic, he could. The translation never bothered me while I read. This isn't Tezuka's masterpiece, but it's a beautifully packaged addition to your growing Tezuka library. At ~700 pages, it isn't for the initiate (start off with some Black Jack), but it is a glimpse into the hectic and intricate mind of the God of Comics.

"Ayako" by Osamu Tezuka is a masterpiece. On the surface, it is a startling story of events in post-WW2 Japan. However, within those pages, it challenges how we think about life, death, family, and country. I thought "Buddha" was his opus until I read "Ayako."

"Ayako" is the story of a girl who is the daughter in the Tenge clan, a family in the Japanese countryside, coming to grips with the land reform that threatens to upend their way of life. More sinister and damaging yet is the degenerate patriarch of the family. I will not spoil the book for you, but some of his actions are reprehensible. It is a testament to the freedom of press in Japan that Tezuka was able to publish this book at all. Jiro Tenge, a son who comes home from the war, instead of dying valiantly for his country, is another main character.

This masterpiece is a thrilling way to understand both Japanese culture, especially during their own "cultural revolution" after losing WW2. If you have ever wondered what life is like in a country that loses a war, this work will let you understand some of the long-term damage it inflicts.

In many ways, the Tenge clan's evildoing and horrible fate is a metaphor for Japan in it's involvement in WW2. It is no secret that Tezuka is a pacifist, but in this work, he elegantly, violently, shows the high cost of WW2 to Japan. No one in the Tenge clan is spared; even the youngest, most idealistic, clever son is ultimately corrupted. That leaves Ayako.

I will not spoil the plot for you, but I will say that the brutal treatment of Ayako is metaphoric as well, perhaps on several levels. Is she Japan itself? Is she the natural world? Is she a metaphor for the old, ordered feudalistic society of Japan pre-WW2? Is her naïveté pure in nature as it appears on the surface, or does something more sinister lurk beneath? This masterpiece asks many more questions. Maybe "Ayako" is the Japanese (or greater human race) character itself, good in its truest form, corruptible, weak, yet not what it appears on the surface? Do societies, particularly traditional Asian cultures, have too much emphasis on "face" while perversion lurks beneath the surface? (If this sounds like it explores some of the same themes director David Lynch prefers, it does.)

"Ayako" has a compelling plot, so it is easy to be caught up in it and think that story is the only point. If you do that, you are missing a lot. The artwork is compelling; some of the imagery is so haunting and bizarre it will stick with you.

Some say this novel does not compare to "The Watchmen" and it is not "Shakespeare." I beg to differ. "Ayako" soars to the heights of the best of literature, graphic and text alike. If you want an experience that will achieve the ultimate goal of great art - to change your way of thinking forever - then you must read "Ayako."

Ultimately, Tezuka gives us a small whiff of hope at the end - or does he?