Charmed Life: The Game

Charmed Life

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Ladies and gentlemen, boils and ghouls, Diana Wynne Jones’ novel Charmed Life is now a text adventure game!

Edge Chronicles animation

 

Hi, guys! This week I have managed to churn out a twenty-second animatic based on the cult fantasy book series, The Edge Chronicles. Here it is, for your enjoyment.

Audiobook

 

Listen to "Manga Britannia" on Spreaker.

User 952532867 · Manga Britannia: The History of British Manga

Britannia Rules the Anime: The Sequel to Manga Britannia

[[https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Vglwq_xlyKi9JDbMnuW7SF3KPqviIXpw/view]] 

 In case you cannot access it, here is the book's entire text. 

INTRODUCTION 

Anime has enjoyed a long-standing level of popularity in the United Kingdom for decades. This has been largely due to the fact that we have privately-owned distributors of anime such as Manga Entertainment (which, paradoxically, does not actually publish any manga). When one goes to an expo, he is surely likely to find an entire diaspora of anime fans, or, as many often derisively refer to them, weebs. But where are the animators who work independently to produce animation in the Japanese style? It has been difficult to find British anime-makers. British animation has always been, in a sense, homemade. All the childhood classics that one watches, from The Wombles, all the way through to Postman Pat, all possess that homemade charm about them. Unfortunately, stop-motion in this day and age is drawing in less and less money at the box office. One would naturally think, given anime enjoys a fervent cult following in Britain, even if the rest of the country outside that cult derides it due to cultural dissonance, that at least one person would have done animation reminiscent of Japanese animation; however, I do not know where to begin with my research, so consider yourself properly warned. My previous book was on the history of British manga, of which there was discovered to be a fruitful amount. 

On the situation of manga in Britain, in Manga An Anthology of Cultural and Global Perspectives, Paul M. Malone stated of British manga and the genre’s popularity in Britain: “Although UK publishers are less given to censorship than their American counterparts, in most respects they will probably remain a manga colony of the United States as much as of Japan.” No further nonsense could ever have been spouted from an American’s mouth. The results of my research shows that we British have assimilated manga into our culture in a way which speaks to our cultural value. We are not a colony as the writer seems to believe, no more than our former territories. We have therefore much potential to assimilate anime as well. Also, one must not confuse British anime with British animation. Both are distinctly different categories; I wish to analyse animation produced in Britain in a Japanese style, so the works of Aardman, Cosgrove Hall and Smallfilms will not be included, especially seeing as their style could not be more dissimilar from what meets the criteria for inclusion in this book. So then, without further ado, we begin our examination. 

 

CHAPTER ONE: ANIME OR NOT? 

 The first work of British sort-of anime that I have discovered is Angus Beer, who does silent animations and video game design. Beer’s character designs are somewhat drawn from anime, in particular they possess a style reminiscent of Studio Ghibli. Wholesome in content, they can be poignant, moving and generally focus on a Ghibli sense of slice-of-life whimsy. Two of his shorts have been reviewed by the cult Internet reviewer, Jambareeqi, who also hails from Britain. However, they still have yet to reach any level of high acclaim internationally, which is, to put it bluntly, simply a considerable amount of the deepest shame, because he most definitively deserves much more praise in life than he already has. Spirit Bakery concerns itself with a young girl who encounters a baker who brews all manner of confectionery, somewhat surprisingly, for ghosts. The animation is accompanied by soft piano music, which perfectly encapsulates its mysterious, bittersweet tone. 

However, I would still hesitate to consider it an anime because it features influences from other things too. In particular, the art style also reminds me of Hilda, which is a British graphic novel series incorporating elements of Scandinavian folklore. It is also worth noting that many of the baker’s deceased clientele are, in fact, spirits of young children. What this means, why the baker cooks for them, and how they can even eat remains unclear. Beer has also produced a short called Axria Okoraize Episode, itself purporting to be an episode of a television show from the 1980s. The art style here is especially reminiscent of the chibi-esque style that some artists who try to imitate manga are especially fond of using. It also features elements of the art style of Scott Pilgrim, the cult graphic novel series. 

The narrative concerns a young girl who finds someone in a snowy bar, becomes lost and fights monsters. The narrative of the short does not actually make much sense. It contains very little dialogue, save for one especially surreal scene where someone pops their head up from a table - such an event which is so ludicrous and so non-sequitur that it has simply to be witnessed rather than described - and offers the burly man sitting playing cards at the aforementioned piece of furniture six hundred dollars, only to be shot down by the man.

There are moments when the short will transition to visuals reminiscent of a side-scrolling video game. Indeed, the short’s soundtrack itself is highly reminiscent of a video game produced during the 1990s. Beer has confirmed that he was largely inspired by these video games. To further supplement this ludonarrative influence, several video game characters make cameo appearances in the short. Beer also confirmed that he wished to provide the viewer with a nostalgic experience reminiscent of watching a show via a VHS cassette, which would doubtless have been used prior to their slip into obsolescence, a plight which has become mirrored in recent times by the inevitable extinction of the Digital Video Disc. To further add to the feeling reminiscent of a video game, Beer has stated that he used the programme Microsoft Paint when animating the short. Afterlife is an interesting short film, which has been made quite recently. Its narrative concerns a soldier, recently killed in battle, who meets a goddess who decides his ultimate fate. 

Despite the Classical facade on the surface, the short actually has a multitude of Christian symbolism. This manifests itself in the goddess deciding the whether the soldier deserves hell or heaven. The morality of the soldier himself is never particularly made clear; however, given the goddess’ final choice, one might perhaps surmise that he was a somewhat amiable fellow in life. The music, composed by William Burroughs, has something of the aesthetic of Classical lyre, which supplements the Classical feel of the film. The afterlife judgement system depicted in the film also has some elements of Egyptian mythology. The goddess carries two orbs and when she raises one, horns appear on the soldier’s forehead and when she raises the other, wings appear on his back. This is very reminiscent of the weighing of the heart that precedes the entrance to the Egyptian underworld. Whether the goddess depicted functions as a personal judge or psychopomp is never clarified, but what is certain is that she shows some affection for the soldier, as shown when she pushes him off the cliff, not to murder him but to educate him in the art of flight. 

 

CHAPTER TWO: ME? MEEE?! 

Unfortunately, in contrast to British manga, of which there was a plentiful amount, there is almost nothing in terms of other examples of Japanese-inspired media present within the United Kingdom. Anything that comes out of Britain tends to overwhelmingly be stop-motion, which has its own charm but none of the lucrative advantages that anime has. So I must turn to my own work in order to find a basis for my research. Of course, when one covers one’s own work, there is an exceptional potential for bias. This, of course, I shall not do, for I am well-aware of the flaws of my brief experimentation into independent animation, which I made during lockdown. Perhaps I ought to start with a digression, in order that some proper context may at least be provided. 

Growing up, my favourite book series (one of them, at least) was the Chrestomanci series. A nice little sequence, where everything was light-hearted without being saccharine. Much like the Oz books, there were still some dark moments in them, themes of neglect and abuse, but also magic and wonder. As the years wore on, I wondered whether there was a film adaptation of Chrestomanci being developed. I had missed the radio adaptation of Witch Week, waited for eight years waiting to listen to it again, and wanted more of the books’ extraordinary world. I had already written (and drawn) a manga based on one of the short stories. As soon as lockdown hit, and the latest young-adult novel to be adapted into a film, Artemis Fowl, flunked miserably on television, I realised this one, convenient truth: there was no Chrestomanci movie, no studio would ever produce one, and the fans were too lazy or too scared to produce one! And that was the moment I decided… to make one. Alone. Unaided. 

The Lives of Christopher Chant was the book I chose to adapt, and its art style was very much inspired by anime. I did have some problems. Firstly, this was the first time I ever did animation, and it opened my eyes to how slow such a process was. Secondly, I still hadn’t figured out how to draw children. All I was good for drawing at that time were young adults. It was only during my drawing one of the frames for the mermaid scene that I discovered this vital piece of information in Christopher Hart’s book Manga for the Beginner: “The younger the character, the larger the eyes.” Thirdly, in terms of what I could do, my Art Set application had just done a reset, and so I was more limited. This is because new canvases were required to be drawn by pencil rather than what I was accustomed to, and there were no rubbers I could use to remove anything I had made a mistake on. 

Several times I redrew the same frame, recycling it in order to make it easier for me. During the scene where the mermaids are playing with Christopher, only the wave moves. I suppose I wanted to spare myself most of the hard work. Indeed, the artwork does not look nearly as good as it should have been, but then, just as nobody is perfect, so too is no work ever perfect. Fourthly, it was tough trying to compress the entire narrative of the novel into six minutes. I opted to draw some scenes which had not already been depicted in the fan art; an innovative choice, to be sure, but one which should confuse people who have not read the book. Last, but certainly not least, there was the issue of being unable to find voice actors to voice the characters. I certainly didn’t want to do the voices myself at the time, so I just left it silent. Maybe someday I shall produce a director’s cut, with another five minutes appended on it. But as it stands, it was intended to be an advertisement for the book, nothing more and certainly nothing less.

I am considering producing a web series set in the World Oak, the fictional multiverse I created. It will be a prequel to the manga series I produced, concerning the fictional history of the snow world and how it was torn apart under the Dorian Gray-like rule of Vanderbilt the Tyrant. This, of course, I have not done, but merely written the screenplay, which, of course, I am still in the process of making. As I have learned from bringing The Lives of Christopher Chant to life, animation is an arduous process, in which it is not easy to be consistent and so it is probably best if I consider placing a hiatus on any animations I produce in the future. Maybe someday I shall either begin Vanderbilt’s tale, or I shall return to the extraordinary world of Chrestomanci, perhaps proving that, much like the hedgehog himself, no copyright law may hinder me. 

 

CHAPTER THREE: THE LINE 

 

The Line is an animation studio based in London, who have done work mainly inspired by anime. They do not produce original anime series, however, as their function is merely to produce animation for advertising. Nevertheless, The Line are proof of the belief that British anime can and must inevitably succeed. Their trailer for the video game Wargroove, itself produced by a British company known as Chucklefish, is heavily inspired by Japanese anime to the extent of replicating the movements. Of course, the trailer does not tell the full story of the game, since no trailer really does, but the trailer is imbued with a sense of intense action akin to most boys’ magazine manga. The character designs are also spectacular, feeling as though they were lifted from a unique anime series to begin with. The company has also produced a short that was commissioned for the League of Legends, known as Worlds 2020- League of Legends. The short’s narrative is, unfortunately, far too complicated for me to summarise alone, so the word of the creators themselves should suffice: “Our film tells the story of two young players, who travel to a fantasy realm to battle a series of iconic tournament winners from years gone by. With each consecutive battle our players learn and grow, as they realise that they themselves can become the pros of the future.” 

The animation is very reminiscent of anime, with speed stripes, overly eccentric hair and a fair amount of rock music and action. What should be noted, however, is that it is not a proper short, per se, just a music video with a voiceless narrative attached. Two-thirds of the runtime through, the audio briefly stops before a gigantic and ridiculously detailed blade threatens to annihilate the protagonist. The character and location design is just stunning; even without external dialogue, one is able to determine the identities of these characters simply from their appearances and movements. The protagonist and many of the opponents he faces are all extremely skilled at martial arts and athletically proficient. The world he travels through is beautifully realised, from a picturesque coastline to an icy tundra pockmarked with oversized weaponry, to an Asian-influenced city.

Izzo, another short they have made, is an advertisement for a bicycle. The company have stated that they were commissioned to produce it by a bicycle company known as YT Industries, and were specifically requested for an anime fight sequence. This they pulled off single-handedly, portraying an exceedingly grisly swordfight as a masked ninja fights his way through an assortment of Japanese-styled horror monsters in a city reminiscent of a Japanese one. 

Finally, and most famously, the company have produced a short known as Super Turbo Atomic Ninja Rabbit, concerning a lapine samurai who fights against an evil vulture wizard. This is a very personal one for them, since the short was the brainchild of a prominent member of the company, Wesley Louis, who drew the inspiration for the short from a ten-page comic that he had drawn during his early adolescence at the height of the 1990s. Louis has stated that he was more inspired by the cartoons of these era, rather than anime specifically, and while it is important to respect authorial intentions, I feel that it is also best to refer to it as British anime by default. 

The comic concerns a rabbit known as Fu who is in the middle of martial arts training with his father when their home is set upon by Vultanor, an evil avian wizard who wishes to gain a sword from their family (doubtless, that sword, had Louis continued the comic, would have been especially important to its narrative). The wizard separates the duo, both by time and by place. Since two parallel universes exist within the comic, the wizard sends Fu forwards in time while still in the universe inhabited by anthropomorphic creatures while his father is sent to a reality inhabited by human beings. The comic is quite impressively drawn for something drawn by a child, and it is quite obvious that Louis missed his calling long ago as a comic creator. As for the short itself, even for imitating a cartoon of the 80s and 90s, those which I feel have all the charisma of mud, the artwork is spectacular. Even if the characters do not speak during the introduction, one can immediately deduce what they are like. 

Wyatt the frog is the intelligent and more proficient one of the group, with Samantha the Fox as the warrior maiden, Harland the rooster as the arrogant, muscle-bound man and Fernando the bear as the one who does not speak much but, when he shows emotion, he is a force to be reckoned with. On this note, Canadian reviewer James Thompson has stated this: “Body language in cartoons is just as important as it is in real life. After all, who would want to watch a cartoon full of bland characters with bland designs? Heck, even their vehicle has a cool design, complete with rabbit-like buck-teeth!” Louis has stated that he drew inspiration for the character of Super Turbo Atomic Ninja Rabbit from Stan Sakai’s character Usagi Yojimbo, but has also stated that he is fond of anime. Louis shared his creation as a prank on various social networking websites, where it became a media sensation, spawning several faked merchandise, which was then sold on the internet using a Japanese friend’s internet account, and even some furry fan art, a subculture to which Louis had been previously oblivious, and even spawned an entire virtual reality attraction in which the player could sit inside the vehicle of the protagonists as they travelled into territory controlled by Vultanor. 

 I had no exposure to The Line Animations until I was researching the predecessor of this book. I have been having trouble finding anime made on British soil, and considered pioneering some kind of animation that could combine anime with British homemade charm. But what The Line has taught me, in all the weeks and months that I have known them, simply put, is that British anime can exist, that Britain has the potential to produce it, and all they have to do is to accept it instead of resorting to live-action. 

 

CHAPTER FOUR: TWINKLE, TWINKLE, LITTLE BAT 

A show entitled Matt Hatter Chronicles is another work I have discovered during my research and it is a co-production between the United Kingdom, Canada and the former British territory of India. In fact, recording for the voice acting was enacted at Britain’s famous Pinewood Studios in London. What surprised me is that its aesthetic does appear to be heavily inspired by Japanese anime. It’s narrative concerns a young boy, Matt Hatter (whose name is an apparent pun on the common misnomer applied to the Lewis Carroll character, the Hatter) who resides in a cinema in London where his family have screen horror films for generations (or at least, a century since the Lumiere Brothers invented film). His grandfather is kidnapped by a malicious sorcerer, which enables him to enter an alternate dimension, where many of the monsters in the films that his family line have screened do in fact exist. What I ejaculate, although it already sounds unoriginal, fails to state the obvious; in short, even for an anime-inspired show, the series is ridiculous, and that is perhaps the reason why it has slipped into obscurity and shall never gain a cult following. I certainly didn’t know about it until doing the research for this book. While, upon close inspection, the character designs appear to be inspired by anime, due to the level of CGI involved, they appear as though they were made of plastic. Even their hair lacks any kind of actual substance as it does not even move. 

Speaking of character design, the characters are very obviously inspired by anime, with spiky hair, square jawlines, and large eyes. Unfortunately, the show does not feel innovative enough to shed the American influence, as the show’s accents are too similar to those of the Americans. The only British accent utilised in the show is the voice of Matt’s grandfather, himself voiced by Kevin Eldon, a prominent British actor and comedian who has starred in a small range of family television. How grandfather and grandson do not have the same accent despite them being related is quite beyond my logical sense of reasoning. Eldon also voices the antagonist of the piece. In defence of the acting, the protagonist is voiced by a Canadian-Irish individual, which serves merely to increase the unbearable tendency to have American or Canadian actors in traditional anime roles. The soundtrack, of course, tends to have elements of rock, which has been a traditional soundtrack for anime since the very beginning. The studios maybe should have utilised a different kind of soundtrack in order to enable the series to be less obnoxious; Classical music, for instance. Unfortunately, in scenes of combat, as far as anime is concerned, Classical music has most certainly never been a popular choice. 

There are character archetypes which are too reminiscent of many anime. One has the athletically prodigious ninja warrior maiden, and the whiny companion who believes that wearing a bandana around his forehead will convey an appearance of fortitude and prowess. Indeed, Gomez (for that is his name) is a particular aspect of the show that I absolutely could not endure. He is the Oliver Twist or Peregrin Took to the more experienced characters. Secondly, the name of the setting, the Multiverse, does not make much logical sense. Is not a multiverse a series of alternate realities, rather than just one? That is but one of the things that this ridiculous show has to offer. Skeleton knights armed with lightsabres are not especially unusual in the Multiverse (capitalised as such so as to differentiate it from an actual multiverse). Thirdly, the main antagonist, Lord Teneroc, is exceedingly generic as an antagonist, being less similar to the likes of Svengali and more reminiscent of Lord Voldemort. However, it is a children’s series that he drives the central conflict of, so it is obvious that he cannot be too villainous. However, he merely sits in his lair rather than actively affecting the conflict of the narrative, so his intimidation as an antagonist is considerably undermined. 

 

In conclusion, Matt Hatter Chronicles is an absolutely terrible series, which is cheaply animated and even more poorly scripted. Perhaps if the studios involved had put in more effort to differentiate it from other anime-inspired series of the early years of the present century or indeed had animated it better, perhaps it would have stood more of a chance of being fondly remembered. Even Smallfilms could do better, and so could Cosgrove Hall, and unfortunately both companies are defunct, and so they cannot. If this is the degradation to which British television has sunk, then it must swiftly be remedied. 

 

CHAPTER FIVE: A SHOCKING DISCOVERY 

 In doing the research for this text, I have discovered a short British anime-styled animation of around twenty-one seconds that was written and drawn by Morag Lewis of Sweatdrop Studios (of whom in the previous volume I have discussed). Despite the fact that there is not enough to speak of, I have decided to discuss it anyway. It is adapted from a particular scene in her classic webcomic, Looking for the Sun, where Kite, the protagonist pokes her friend Saryth, who refers to it merely as “tickly evil” (hence the title of the short). In particular, one must note the accents in which the characters speak. It is not exactly British, but not especially American either. It is as if they attended the Warthog School of This Is What an American Accent Sounds Like. There are only three lines of dialogue in the entire short, and even they are not enough to provide a consistent assessment of what the characters as envisioned by Lewis sound like. Nevertheless, this has to be the very first time any work of Sweatdrop Studios has been adapted into another medium. Further research reveals that they are voiced by Morag Lewis and her husband, Sergei. The soundtrack for the short is piano music, which was composed entirely by Lewis herself. The piano music does tend to add a sense of endearing character to the scene itself.

The character movements, which are comprised mostly of walking with only the occasional close-up and anime-ish mouth movements, are very reminiscent of anime itself, highlighting how well Lewis did, and, in my humble opinion, how she ought to experiment with animation more often. However, nothing else in the characters’ environment, a country footpath, appears to move, not even the clouds in the sky. Another particular complaint I wish to address is that Kite is not depicted wielding her staff as she does in the comic, yet that is probably a minor grievance, given that the staff was removed in order to better animate her movements. Her husband Sergei also appears to have provided the technical advice, but otherwise the short is produced almost entirely by Lewis herself, with no external studio or company necessary. Indeed, further research reveals that it was intended for the International Manga and Anime Festival 2006, and that it adapts a mere side-story which has probably considerably little bearing on the canon of the manga itself. More precisely, it adapts an omake, which the author merely appears to have drawn for humorous purposes as a diversion from her main narrative. 

As much as anyone who read Morag Lewis’ masterpiece during their childhoods would wish for a proper anime adaptation of her work, it is, of course, extremely unlikely. The only other pieces of animation that were made by Lewis appear to be some character animations she published on the website for her slice-of-life epic, A Pocketful of Clouds, depicting the protagonists’ pet felines, Cloud and Muffin. Other than the fact that she has edited some anime footage together into a series of animated music videos, which are a genre of filmmaking that I absolutely deplore, none others are to be found on her personal website. Indeed, since the website was launched during the early years of the century, it is a miracle that, even after nearly onescore years, it is even still standing. If it can survive now, it can surely survive for future generations. 

In conclusion, while experimenting in animation is quite rare for a British mangaka, I would have to say that it works exceptionally well. Lewis’ animation pulls in much effort when it comes to bringing her written and drawn works to life. If she did it more often, then who knows what would happen. Nevertheless, Tickly Evil Omake deserves to be considered yet another example of hidden British potential in the anime field. Not to mention that her art style in this instance is utterly, utterly adorable; as adorable as the cats she features so often in her comics. 

 

CHAPTER SIX: MISCELLANEA 

 

To supplement further the history of British anime, we have to move from the realms of the independent to the mainstream, to examine Edgar Wright, the fabled English film director and the man who adapted the aforementioned Scott Pilgrim graphic novels into a film. While Wright is not one to often diverge into animation beyond writing a film adaptation of Hergé’s classic Tintin books and a few voiceover roles in certain projects, including the Carl Barks adaptation where he voiced a cygnus film director, he is known for his quirky visual style, which is part of the reason that his adaptation of Brian Lee O’Malley’s video game-fuelled opus worked so well. Recently, Wright has announced that he intends to produce a Scott Pilgrim anime. The director has, in recent years, been both vague and optimistic about the anime’s production: “We’ve been talking with Bryan and with Jared [LeBoff, executive producer] for a while [about]: What if we did something with the books in anime form? It’s being discussed as we speak.” At the same time, several of the news articles of which I partook alluded to the possibility of a continuation of the film’s original source material. However, whether Wright’s experiment will make it past the greedy, unimaginative studio executives, their fancy suits hiding a facade of corporate ruthlessness, remains to be seen. Jambareeqi, whose name has already been mentioned in this book, has released an independently-produced radio drama known as Echogeddon. The overall feel of the radio drama is quite inspired by anime - anime is even referenced in the first episode. 

The narrative concerns itself with a young girl who, during an attack on her hometown by a monster, finds herself welded into a gigantic mechanical suit devised by an eccentric scientist. The voice actors definitely put some effort into replicating accents; however, unlike traditional dubs, which have absolutely no reason whatsoever to use an American accent (The Seven Deadly Sins is a prime example of this, despite its very British setting, which aggravates me to no end), the accents here make logical sense: the radio play is set in the United States, and not the United Kingdom. The accents are pulled off as spectacularly well as the acting. The only true American on the cast, however, is Jambareeqi’s longtime business partner, Viva Becker, who does not even need to pull one off. Unfortunately, the series only lasted five episodes before being placed on permanent hiatus following Brinton’s voice actor’s employment at the Texan dubbing company Funimation, rather than the more reasonable solution to recruit a new voice actor for the eccentric scientist. However, Jambareeqi does intend on reviving the series as a stop-motion (regrettably) animated feature, to which I advised him to instead draw it as an anime. He has not responded at this time. When advised to write the series as narratives on his website, he also alluded to this being a possibility. 

 

The Rose of Buckingham Palace, which I previously covered in an earlier volume, was intended at one point to be adapted into an animated film. No further progress has been made. Personally, I for my part hope that it not be adapted into a film, especially given how absolutely awful American dubbing is, and how British actors are stigmatised against appearing in anime dubbing. Although, it is perhaps for the best that The Rose of Buckingham Palace be left imprisoned within one medium. Concerning animated films based on Japanese-inspired British works that have the potential to die within a single medium, Chris Wooding, whose work has been covered in a previous volume, sold the rights to produce an animated series based on his Broken Sky trilogy, which he considered appropriate considering that his book series was inspired by Japanese anime. The series eventually entered development hell before being scrapped entirely. On this, Wooding has no regrets to offer on his website, except two solitary words: “Oh well.”

A blog dated from around 2010 describes the examples of at least two British-made anime, which have, unfortunately ended in what I can safely describe as complete and utter disaster: Dominator and Natural Born Kittens. Dominator, based on an original British manga I refused to write about in my previous volume because it was out of print, seemed to be hit with disaster from its very conception. The film was intended to be a series, but this was hindered by the fact that the director, showrunner and creator of the comic, Tony Luke, was diagnosed with cancer, but despite the fact that he recovered, I can safely say that perhaps his film would have been better if it was hand-drawn, not computer-generated. I perused a clip from the film and was disgusted by the poor quality of the animation. A reboot that would have been better animated was to be filmed, but this was unfortunately hindered by its creator’s death. I was hesitant to include it in this work, lest I be struck by the curse that this film is known for. 

Nevertheless, Luke appears to have been what I can only describe as utterly and stupidly optimistic, or presumably, much like Richard Williams before him, not particularly psychologically equipped to deal with reality. On the production of the film, he noted that: “I'm delighted to see that other animated works are in the pipeline -- the more, the merrier. I'd like to see a much more active animation industry in the UK, period. So there's room for everyone. Animators, creatives and fans in the UK should be working together, not fighting with each other.” Luke originally intended to produce a sequel to the film, but the film’s absolute failure meant that it could only produce two short films: A Brief History of Hell and Heavy Metal vs. Dominator. Following the absolute misfire, the film faded into obscurity, until reviewers on the Internet helped bring it to attention. 

Nevertheless, Luke also appears to have been a passionate campaigner against the anime fandom’s exclusive and elite nature. Maybe someday his manga will be brought back into print, and given a second lease on life, but for now, this is all I can write on it. Internet critic Jambareeqi opined thus on the film: “I strongly disliked this film because it bored me to death. It’s dull, unengaging, unfunny, sexist, and looks unappealingly messy.” However, an Internet critic styling himself Bjorn the Stormborn had this to say: “Looking back on the film, it hasn’t aged well, with terrible CGI mixed with some cheesy dialogue (but most of it was funny) doesn’t quite fit well to today’s standards. However, I thought the plot was a fairly decent story with a good mix of comedy and lore.” However, this is only a minuscule amount of positivity, because the film’s narrative potential is drowned out by the animation quality. 

But, of course, Bjorn (whose surname remains unknown) states that the film was impressive for its time when using a British animation studio to produce an anime film. Natural Born Kittens was struck with disaster, but of an entirely different kind: it was heavily and widely shunned by the UK anime network, which forced the creator of the show, Larry Buddy Jr, to defend himself in a poorly-written letter: “It wasn't accepted on six strips, no program on earth is accepted on just six strips. NBK isn't a webcomic. Theres hundreds of pages of words and artwork involved on this and the only reason that you havn't seen any of this is because of the site is owned by a company who no longer has the rights to NBK so we can't update it for a few months.” Unfortunately, the show was barred from airing in the UK. However, despite the lack of commercial interest in British-made anime this has not hindered British independent filmmakers from experimenting in Japanese styled animation. Furthermore, all of the information which this volume conveys is to be derived from the blog which I have perused. I apologise to whoever it was who wrote it if I have illicitly used it, but I also thank them. 

One particular example is the BAFTA-nominated example of Kamigah’s Correspondence, which as the article noted imitated Japanese animation almost to a tee, to the extent of even including a Japanese setting and some Japanese language. The Royal College of Art appears to have been the source of its production, but it appears to have first aired in Iran for some reason. It turns out to have been produced by a student of the Royal College of Art who came from Japan. In 2003, Alex Heatherington produced a short anime film known as Glasgowland. The article mentioned this film’s animation style thusly: “The film doesn't directly mimic mainstream Japanese animation, but rather uses anime-influenced character designs as one aspect of the brightly-coloured pop culture world that its protagonists inhabit: a land of toys, cartoons and sweet wrappers.” 

Another example is Rolighed by Paul Duffield, adapted from a manga written by the British mangaka Kate Brown which makes considerable use of the meta fictional elements of writing and drawing comics. Duffield began producing this surreal animation as a final project for his university, and it won the International Anime and Manga Competition. I think that Rolighed deserves to be considered an underrated masterpiece, and that it would put even Otomo’s opus Akira to shame. It’s not accurate to the style of anime itself, but it serves to still be remembered as a true piece de resistance of experimental filmmaking. 

It features quite surreal visuals, including a scene where a colonnade folds up into fingers. In keeping with the metafictional themes, the short often features panel layouts during scenes of human interaction. The protagonist is apparently a creation of a writer at his desk; a boy who wishes, Pinocchio-like, to become real. Yet he is warned by the writer that his insurgence into reality may come at a cost. Nothing is explained about the surreal setting of the short, nor why the people exist beneath the colonnade. However, based on the fact that they have wings, including the youthful protagonist himself, my personal interpretation is that the writer is a metaphor for God and that the boy represents either one of his angels or one of his creations; the metafictional elements would seem to support the latter hypothesis, thus invoking a whole God-as-author scenario. 

The writer refers to a “list” on which he records names; presumably this refers to a list of those who are being judged or will be judged on the Last Judgement. The writer appears to be cold and indifferent, personifying the attitude that is felt regarding God in modern times, that of the apathetic tyrant who could not care less for his creations. The writer and the boy communicate in a strange constructed language reminiscent of German, although the dialogue is translated via subtitles. This unearthly language is perhaps intended by Duffield to represent the language that angels or divinities communicate in. What I have found is that the short is based on a scene from a narrative by Kate Brown; presumably things are much better explained in this manga than they are in the short. Indeed, it is never specified what fate befalls the boy, although one can assume, based on a close-up shot of the writer’s hand as he slides a knife towards him, that the writer murders him for his insolence.

In 2004, Mark Bender and Garry J. Marshal wrote and produced a 24-minute short film entitled Rogue Farm, which was described at the time as “the first ever British anime to be commissioned by a UK broadcaster and film body". Similarly to Natural Born Kittens, the film was scoffed at by the anime community, which caused Marshall to step up to defend it. I personally think that the film is a solid effort, despite the ostensibly cheap animation. Indeed, I would not consider the animation necessarily cheap, more stylised than anything else. The short has just as much production value placed within it as Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children, but merely in its own special way. The characters speak with a Russian and a Scottish accent respectively, which I consider a great relief and a sign of true innovation. Indeed, its animation quality despite its cheapness outranks the likes of Dominator by a mile. 

In 2007, a short set in an anime convention aired at the convention itself. It concerned itself with a magical girl known as Ame-Chan, who defended the convention from a stereotypically cartoon supervillain. What particularly differentiates this short is that its language is in both Japanese and English; the protagonist speaks Japanese, while everyone else communicates in English. The accents the Anglophone characters use is most ostensibly intended to be a British person’s impression of an American accent; save for the villain, who uses a Northern accent, which I should have to applaud as an innovative choice and a movement forward to anime’s redemption. 

Finally, a more successful example is Freefonix, which, similarly to Matt Hatter Chronicles, was a co-production between Britain and its former territories of India. Created by the musician and lyricist Magnus Fiennes, already a scion of a prominent British family of creatives - he is one of the brothers of Ralph Fiennes - it was commercially-produced and it was produced by Cinnamon Entertainment and Isle of Man Film for CBBC. Despite the fact that its animation has all the charisma of plastic, as Matt Hatter had, I would have to conclude that Freefonix is obviously an impressive feat for its time. Indeed, had it had the urge to drop the American accents and experiment with some things, it may perhaps have been called the British anime of the century. 

The series bears a 7.8/10 rating in its Internet Movie Database entry. 

The series also appears to have spawned a soundtrack album at least a year after the show’s conclusion, and features vocal performances from the likes of Alastair Cook, Fiennes’ brother Joseph (best-known for his role as William Shakespeare) and Haylie Ecker, the founding member of the Australian musical group Bond. As it turns out, the one complaint I have is that, based upon watching at least a minute of it, it seems most obviously targeted towards a child demographic, which serves as a textbook example of British condescension (along with the electric guitar used in the show) and a reminder of the disgracefully-low standards that are often applied to children’s entertainment. 

 Finally, the article also cites a short animation that was made by Pete Candeland for the 2002 World Cup, which depicts footballer Gary Lineker as an anime character. This short was produced following the integration of anime into British culture, with the series Pokemon airing on ITV, where it runs in syndication unto this very day, and the Oscar-winning Spirited Away. 

In the early years of the century we find the earliest traces of anime culture in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, but also a great love for Japanese video game culture as well. Hence why we find a series created by a person known as Matt Haynes, known as Super Mario Brothers Z. As its title suggests, Super Mario Brothers Z is a crossover, between Mario himself (the popular but heavily racist Italian plumber) and Sonic, the hedgehog who couldn’t speak a word of Latin to save his life, with the structure, action and feel of Dragon Ball, as the Latin letter Z in its title suggests. Released in 2006 on the website Newgrounds, the series ran for eight episodes from that year all the way to 2009, with the final episode being released incomplete in 2012. It immediately became almost staggeringly popular, with 30 million views as of the present time. Rosa Fernandez, an obscure American journalist (though undeniably of Spaniard descent) described it as “a cult series which has been reborn.” Emmanuel Gent, another journalist, referred to its premise as “explosive”. The series’ existence demonstrates how well the anime culture had become implanted within the United Kingdom, and how much potential it has to become implanted even further until young and old can appreciate it.

A rather more unusual example is that of a British company based in Hertfordshire adapting a pre-existing work of anime into a short film. Just as in my previous work, I must apologise for bending the rules to accommodate my discoveries. K&K Productions, a filmmaking company highly esteemed in the British anime community, produced at least two short trailers for Toriyama’s work Dragon Ball. They intended to spawn two full miniseries, but due to Japan’s strict copyright laws, they were prevented from doing so. The film crew does a spectacular job when it comes to adapting Toriyama’s universe into live-action, something which the mainstream film industry was unable to do, resulting in a film that fans wish to this day did not exist. The short, five minute trailer for the Saiyan Saga was shot on location in the Peak District of England, in order to keep with the grandiose, brightly-saturated nature of Toriyama’s fictional world. The cinematography is stunning, the visual effects much better than anything Hollywood could create and the actors even bear a close resemblance to their characters. What is even more impressive is that the crew manage to whittle down Toriyama’s grand narrative into six minutes, retaining key elements of it such as Chiaotzu’s sacrifice, Nappa destroying East City and even Tien’s loss of his arm. What I would complain about is that, due to these events have been compressed into a single sitting, there is little context to evenly pace them out. Because the film moves at breakneck speed, many of the events fly by incredibly quickly. K&K have also made appearances at the London Anime Con and SunnyCon 2014, where they encountered the Dragon Ball scholar and fanatic Lawrence Simpson, known to his acolytes as MasakoX. Their only other significant pieces of work are an X-Men fan film and a film set in a WWI bunker.

Elizabeth Garwood, whose work has been covered in the previous volume, has produced animation. Such animation, which is done in a distinctly anime-inspired style which is familiar and yet all her own, tends to not be the kind to tell full narratives, but is merely a couple of seconds in length. They tend to be part of four-minute animation memes and collaborations with other artists for Multiple Animator Projects (a particularly common trend on YouTube). The animations on her YouTube account, often featuring characters from other media, have thus far garnered over three million views in total. The program she uses tends to be Clip Studio paint, but she has also experimented in puppetry and 3D filmmaking in addition to this. She has mostly produced these short animations following the anime boom of Britain, and, while she has yet to produce a full animated series - since she is a manga artist - I still maintain that she has been absolutely crucial to the continuation of independently produced animation within the national boundaries of Britain.

 

CONCLUSION 

Since anime, admittedly, is not as popular in Britain as it is in, per say, France and Latin America, it would stand to reason that there would be little original English language anime actually made in the United Kingdom. An owner of a manga shop in Britain stated in a magazine article that was published in around 2009: “People in the UK are not as open to this type of 'cartoon'. They're used to Disney.” Used to Disney? Therefore, it stands to reason that the British people have been indoctrinated, brainwashed, hypnotised by the poison that is American soft power. It is this foul hypnotism which has allowed authors that were actually good to rot in obscurity for eighty years! Disney, the poison! The black blight of alleged “magic” and “assembly-line whimsy”! The bane of the existence of every writer who is desperate to live on after their deaths! Travers suffered under Disney, as did Felix Salten, Margery Sharp and all of them! Good authors, who deserve to have been laced with better treatment.

Forgive my little ramblings, but I am quite simply disappointed, not to mention mystified. Did not the British accept satirical criticism from Jonathan Swift, H.G. Wells and Gilbert & Sullivan? Did they not accept the violence abundant in Tolkien’s works, or Philip Pullman’s, or even their own ancient literature, like Beowulf? Are not a vast majority of nineteenth-century novels rife with exceedingly violent content, and even ancient literature itself? Did you not lap up the grotesqueries of James Gilray, or the erotic art of Aubrey Beardsley? Do you deny it, my countrymen, or indeed, any of you in Europe who are reading now? Do you deny that you have drunk too deeply of the American poison, the poison that has allowed Chris Sabat, Vic Mignogna and all their untrained ilk to gain power in the anime fandom, they who have never acted in the work of our immortal Bard, they who have never had a knighthood? Do you intend to suffer for this outrage? Anime has never been popular in Britain, that is true, but it has the potential to become popular. Because animation is not just for children to watch, and for parents to entertain their children with. Animation is an art form, just like Rococo, watercolour and sketchwork. It deserves far better than this, far, far better. And the potential of British independent anime has never been greater, and surely it must be something our culture must become accustomed to and accept with open arms. Thank you, and sweet dreams. Think of a better future. 

 

REFERENCES AND SOURCES 

Literary sources 

 

Hart, Christopher. Manga For the Beginner. New York. 

Johnson-Woods, Toni (ed.) Manga An Anthology of Global and Cultural Perspectives. New York.  

Websites 

https://www.toothycat.net 

https://medium.com/cinemania/scott-pilgrim-vs-the-anime-315a7a328d92 

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/tvandradioblog/2009/jun/09/anime-japan-tv 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Matt_Hatter_Chronicles 

 https://www.lbbonline.com/news/meet-the-man-who-pranked-the-internet-with-super-turbo-atomic-ninja-rabbit 

https://www.vice.com/en/article/wd7gg5/super-turbo-atomic-ninja-rabbit-interview 

https://syrupwithasideofwriting.wordpress.com/2016/10/02/sweet-as-syrup-super-turbo-atomic-ninja-rabbit-review/ 

https://www.thelineanimation.com/work/league-of-legends-worlds-2020

https://www.thelineanimation.com/work/super-turbo-atomic-ninja-rabbit 

http://ukanimation.blogspot.com/2010/08/brief-history-of-british-anime.html 

http://ukanimation.blogspot.com/2010/04/dominator-demon-lord-of-dead-rock-stars.html 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Freefonix 

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magnus_Fiennes

Upcoming sequel to Manga Britannia!

 What ho, old beans! Today I wish to announce that, to celebrate the success of Manga Britannia: The History of British Manga, I am doing some research for my book’s sequel! The sequel is entitled Britannia Rules the Anime: A Guide to UK-produced anime!

Manga Britannia PDF link

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1OITHPZYfSYbuSk5RKb-l80RPLpuKVJIw/view?usp=sharing

Manga Britannia: The History of British Manga

 INTRODUCTION

Where can one possibly begin when describing the history of British manga? Is one to elaborate that it is a purely recent art form, especially when compared to the vast swathes of two-thousand years of literature that this humble, and formerly (alas!) sceptred isle has produced? Why then does the world remain so oblivious to its existence, especially when Japanese anime - its cell-borne cousin - is now becoming more commonplace in the United States, where the accursed blight the Yanks have placed on it have prevented it from reaching its full potential? 

When answering a particular question on why anime is not as popular in this great land when compared to America, Theo J Ellis had this to say about it, “what’s accepted in Japan isn’t necessarily OK in England. Also because British culture is a lot different, the same methods that work in Japan (Or USA) won’t work here.” Won’t, or can’t? Without prevaricating any further, my personal belief is that manga has the potential to express the cultural and social values of any country in the world, and not merely Japan as many people seem to think; to rise up and be the international language of all nations. But it has yet to reach such potential, and remains firmly imprisoned in the panopticon of Uncle Sam. One would consider me a harmless eccentric, or even a reclusive, isolated radical, but my opinion is not entirely unique. Nicole Coolidge Rousmaniere, arts curator of the British Museum’s most recent exhibition of manga, has this to say, “Manga is a language of the future. It’s a visual language that started and developed in Japan, obviously with influences from Europe, America, and other places, but it’s a Japanese visual language, that is rapidly becoming an international language just like sushi.” 

If Rousmaniere has such pride and faith in manga, then so do I. But I digress. Growing up, I watched very few anime and read no manga at all. Oh, I did watch at least one episode of Naruto at one point, at least two films by Studio Ghibli here and there, but that was pretty much it as far as I was concerned. I did, however, watch a multitudinous amount of media from America. I do not particularly like American media now, because it has the potential to harm the language development of the English child. I watched some more anime as the years went by, and I have my dear friend, Tabitha Walker, to whom I introduced the work of Gilbert and Sullivan, to thank for that. This work, which is barely a volume, is dedicated to her. 

As I watched anime, I wondered: why did they always have to cast American actors? Can they not cast Greek, or Irish, or even- dare I say it - British actors as lead roles? Surely Americans are so besotted with their image of what Japanese animations and comics should be that they refuse staunchly to innovate and instead concentrate on corporate greed, as they are known to do? In my opinion, Dragon Ball in particular could do with both re-casting and re-translation into appropriate vernacular. I searched vast swathes of Wikipedia, but all I found were American manga and Australian manga, but no particularly notable British works.

Until at least a month from before the time of writing, when I discovered that British manga does indeed exist. It is just that, until now, it has remained a very underground sort of subculture - a couple of magazines here and a small cottage industry there - but alas nothing to compete with manga’s country of origin, Japan itself. Reader, I am here with the intent of sharing the results of my research with you, in order that you may rest contented with the fact that British manga exists. I would, of course, be remiss if I did not warn you that my resources are limited, but that will not be too much of a hassle. My intentions with this book are to provide a brief overview, not the full picture. There may be more artists and companies that have escaped my research and for that I apologise, but the main intentions of this book are to introduce you to all this material and discover it for yourself.

Onward, reader, to destiny!

CHAPTER ONE: JAPONISME AND AUBREY BEARDSLEY

So where does the actual history of manga in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and (Northern) Ireland start? After all, manga has its earliest origins in the 12th century, where much of it was drawn on handscrolls. Let us not forget indeed that, even after World War II, manga was still pretty much unknown in England - there is no evidence that manga was read at all during that time and up to the end of the 20th century. So what makes Britain during the 19th century ideal for the flourishing of manga at that time? I suppose the answer that that question is the Japonisme movement, which originated in France shortly after the re-opening of Japanese trade. Ukiyo-e prints were distributed in shops in France and London during the 1860s. Felix Bracquemond, after noticing the talent of the Japanese artist Hokusai (he who originally coined the term “manga”, although not to refer to a narrative artform but to random sketches), purchased a copy of his Hokusai Manga. Vincent Van Gogh experimented with the art form for a time during the 1880s, but for some reason it appears to have greatly influenced both him and his Impressionist contemporaries. This era is also notable in that it gave rise to the Gilbert and Sullivan operetta The Mikado (which, incidentally, has absolutely nothing in common with opera at all, but which serves as a prototype to the modern West End musical) set in a fantastical version of Japan where characters have names which do not sound even remotely Japanese. Gilbert and Sullivan did not even intend the play to be about Japan but about the failures of their own British government. Indeed, they tried to prevent the Japanese Crown Prince from seeing The Mikado upon his visit to Britain, something which greatly disappointed the Prince since, in a highly ironic twist of fate that neither WS Gilbert nor Arthur Sullivan could have possibly seen coming, he had been eagerly anticipating attending a production of it. But I digress. Come now; we are about to begin.

Where better to start than with Aubrey Beardsley, when describing the early British mangaka? Aubrey Beardsley, of the aesthete movement, was a harried, and indeed hurried, genius, and the fact that he died so tragically young is perhaps emblematic of manga’s status as a relatively young artform. He is particularly known for his vibrant illustrations, most notably of Wilde’s Salome and Le Morte d’Arthur. One thing that the average observer would note is that Beardsley’s illustrations do not particularly follow the conventions of manga - at least not the manga we are familiar with. The noses and eyes are not particularly large, the lips not especially pronounced nor the hair particularly ridiculously over-the-top. But what one should note is that it still bears its Asian influences on its sleeve. In the illustrations to Wilde’s Salome, instead of the primitive clothing people in the time Wilde set his play in would have worn - that being the time of the Biblical King Herod - the characters are depicted as wearing elaborate clothing reminiscent of what the Japanese nobility would have worn during that time. Beardsley, similarly to contemporary manga, is not one to shy away from violence or nudity, which is perhaps what made him a social pariah.

It is perhaps worth keeping in mind that the kind of artform which Beardsley mainly drew from is generally known as shunga. It is a Japanese form of erotic art, which has produced such famous examples as The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife. Beardsley himself was exposed to Japanese art through an illustration from a book of Japanese folktales that he read as a child and this continued to influence him throughout his dismally short life, to the extent that prior to his death he directed his publisher to a set of erotic Japanese prints, and indeed it is possible that he owned a copy of Hokusai’s prints. Is it perhaps coincidental that this unfortunate artist, who worked as quickly as he could, could proudly wear foreign influences without fear, without shame, and without the knowledge that he would start a new trend? While Beardsley would not necessarily fit the criterion for manga today, he has managed to inspire many artists after him, including Chris Riddell, the famous children’s book illustrator.

So, here we are: Beardsley, Britain’s first mangaka, and a whole century of history to come after him, including the war against the Japanese in the middle of the last century, followed by another probable isolation. Osamu Tezuka first developed modern manga in 1947, in the wake of all the illustrators in the country being conscripted into the war. Yet those of us in Britain, and perhaps America too, remained firmly unaware of this.

CHAPTER TWO: BRING ON THE SWEATDROP

The story of British manga picks up more than a century after Beardsley’s death, with a small company known as Sweatdrop Studios. Japanese media did not become widespread in Britain - now known simply as the UK - until relatively late in the twentieth century. Had it been distributed earlier, doubtless the English, still staid and frowsty and high-class, would doubtless have scorned its value as art. Let us, of course, not forget that the British, much like the rest of the Western world, had warred with the Japanese when they allied with the Nazis. Sweatdrop Studios was first founded in 2001, by four indie British artists, whom up until that particular point in time, had published for themselves individually; Laura Watton, Hayden Scott-Brown, Sam Jones and Foxy were the names of these artists. They did of course meet at British manga conventions. The original generation of artists, alas, is not all there; many of them have departed from the group since then. But Sweatdrop Studios has managed to maintain a strong presence in the British manga world, and continues to do so unto this very day, whether it be making appearances at manga conventions, contributing to manga magazines or even publishing manga “how-to” manuals.

The artists at Sweatdrop are a diligent breed; in terms of Oriental artistic influence they claim inspirations as diverse as Akira Toriyama, Hiyoko Mikawa, or even the Japanese manga Sailor Moon. In particular among their achievements, they have managed a distinct blend of Japanese and British influences in their collaborations with British publisher SelfMadeHero when producing manga adaptations of Shakespeare. When one wishes to make their name in Britain and to demonstrate with all their soul and might that manga can be taken seriously, what else could a poor artist do but resort to the legendary oeuvre of our nation’s greatest poet? 

Of course, what one should perhaps know about Manga Shakespeare is that it mainly eschews the original settings of Shakespeare’s works in favour of different sorts of places, such as 18th century America for King Lear, modern China for As You Like It, or even a futuristic Denmark for Hamlet. I first encountered Manga Shakespeare at one of my schools. It was in the library and I was looking for graphic novel adaptations of texts in order to enhance my enjoyment of them. I mostly ignored Manga Shakespeare because I was always so persistent about faithfulness to the original source. 

It was not until I researched the existence of British manga that I developed better appreciation for Manga Shakespeare. Critical opinion does, however, remain divided, as evidenced in this particular excerpt from a review for King Lear, “A book that's uncategorisable. King Lear is done as The Last of the Mohicans in the style of Japanese manga. The publisher has been criticised for playing it safe with its adaptations of the classics. This one is by no means safe and all the better for it." This, of course, from the pen of Mr Roger Sabin, Esq, of The Observer, also shows the inevitable success that Sweatdrop Studios garnered for itself in the early years of the present century.  

So where did this all start? Well, to find out that answer, look no further than Laura Watton’s Biomecha. First published in 1995, it is often considered the first British manga in the style of the Japanese. Its plot appears to be pretty standard: a young boy is given a pair of robotic arms after an accident and enrols in a Harry Potter-like academy after his strength spirals out of control. I myself did not read it, until I was conducting the proper research for this book. I did, however, examine it once. Laura Watton, who has since departed from Sweatdrop, was selling it at a stall at Hyper Japan, which is also how I happened to meet her, although I did not know her name at the time. Not being interested to see if there was British manga, or even a sufficient demand for it, and fully aware that it was not famous, I refused to buy anything. On her website, I received a clear picture of what Biomecha was like. Its art style is reminiscent (somewhat) of anime that was produced during the 1990s. Its dialogue appears to be pretty standard: characters say “I guess” rather than “I suppose” as an Englishman of older times would have said. Indeed, the word “mom” is often used as a substitute for the more English-sounding “mum”, and the American slang term “brainiac” used at least once in the second chapter, and the word “jerk” is used in the fourth chapter.

However, the English poet Shakespeare (a poet particularly popular in his native land) plays an integral role in the second chapter of the manga. Indeed, further research elaborates that, within its pages, one finds a perfect imitation of the contours of manga itself; namely speed stripes, exaggerated facial expressions, and even an infant octopus in a cage. The presence of Shakespeare within the first two chapters of the manga surely foreshadows the manga adaptations of the Bard’s work that Sweatdrop would later produce. However, beneath its Americanised facade is a British influence waiting to break out: the contracted expletive “bloody” is used at some point during the second half of the third chapter of the manga, which, notably, is set at a Christmas party. It is also worth noting especially that, while at first glance the manga might be set in Japan thirty years after it was written, if one were to examine the captions and signs that dot the landscape and the school more closely, one would see that they are written in English rather than in Japanese characters. Even though it is not written in British English, Biomecha, indeed, serves to be remembered as a noble effort to replicate the manga format.

The other material that Sweatdrop has produced is astoundingly original. Let us begin by first discussing White Violet, by Shazleen Khan. The narrative appears to be set in America, judging by the slang the characters speak and some references to the Sicilian Mafia. It concerns itself with a young girl who is attending a prestigious academy and soon realises that she may be dealing with a sociopathic killer. Morag Lewis’ oeuvre, perhaps rather fittingly considering her influences from those most prominent of Inklings - C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien - concerns itself primarily with the genre of fantasy epic. Sun Fish Moon Fish is an interesting narrative centred on a conjurer known as Anciarin who finds himself wrapped up in a sinister conspiracy regarding the murder of a royal family. At first he embarks on a quest to find a royal daughter illegitimately fathered by one of the members of this family to end a potential succession crisis, but remains hunted by an L-like character known as Iashar, who eventually discovers that there may be more to Anciarin than there first appears. One should perhaps note that Anciarin himself fits the more androgynous type of protagonist as one usually tends to find in much Japanese media. This androgyny is especially useful to him because it enables him to wander around in disguise as an individual of the opposite sex. 

Towards the rather cliched conclusion of Lewis’ narrative, he assumes a new identity as “the musician Ember”, perhaps symbolising the conflation of the two identities. He appears to be known to his friends by at least two nicknames, doubtless parodying the multiple names characters have in Tolkien’s legendarium. The world he inhabits has traces of medieval Italy; at one point, a page is illustrated depicting him crossing a bridge somewhat reminiscent of an amalgamation of the Rialto Bridge and the Bridge of Sighs in Venice. Yet, when Iashar consults the family tree of the royal family, some of the names, suspiciously, are ostensibly Greek, including, appropriately enough, the name Basileos (which, to the uninitiated, means “king”). At least one reference is used; at one point, Anciarin stumbles into a brothel known as The Garden of Unearthly Delights, perhaps recalling the famous triptych The Garden of Earthly Delights, by Heironymous Bosch. Heavy themes such as regicide, prostitution and political intrigue are dealt with. Magic is barely even used in the narrative - once, when Anciarin destroys the aforementioned bridge and once when Anciarin destroys another bridge early in the narrative.

Lewis’ artwork is not inherently bad - far from it. It shows a decent enough effort in attempting to replicate the manga art style. However, there is still so much more room for improvement - or perhaps there was at the time. Perhaps she has improved significantly since then. Gray tone tends to cover the faces of every character, as opposed to only partially covering it, as opposed to covering just the clothes and only partially the face. Nevertheless, the gray tone is essential in conveying skin colour. Come the latter half of the narrative, the line work for Anciarin becomes somewhat faded, rendering him in a sort of grey hue. However, the artwork, line work and gray tones are significantly improved as of her latest work, Patchwork Sky, with the faces gradually becoming more and more detailed. 

Patchwork Sky is a tale concerning perambulation between alternate realities. In contrast to the medieval Italian-style fantasy realm of Anciarin, the world of Patchwork Sky feels reminiscent of a combination of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Characters attend fancy balls in elegant dresses, avoid the persistent militia, and engage in some nineteenth-century attitudes towards women which are not truly meant as misogynistic. However, directly beneath the surface, is a highly exaggerated version of the class system which plagued Victorian society. A group of anarchists does make an appearance, but they are not portrayed in any way that could be considered heroic. In fact, the terrorists are portrayed as antagonists in the narrative; given that they attack balls, hold hostages, and drug people that they incarcerate at their headquarters. The way Kite, the protagonist, travels between alternate realities is never fully explained, and the multiverse she inhabits is not fully explored. The manga series spans two volumes at the present time.

The company is also known to have published the very first light novel ever to be published in Britain, A Brush with Magic, written by Malaysian expatriate Sonia Leong, which concerns the adventures of an elf-mage, Silas, and a kemonomimi (that is, vaguely humanoid being with some animalistic features) known as Rua. Rua eventually discovers that Silas is the most dangerous magician in the world, which may hold special significance to her. Sonia Leong’s artwork has a special quality to it, which fully brings the characters to vivid life. Mr Alexander James, Esq, has this to say concerning the light novel’s themes: “The author has a great awareness of character and perception, related through her characters, who both have tragic powers that mark them as different from the norm and make them unable to fit in.” Does this, of course, mean that the novel is a metaphor for the status of a pariah and of social isolation? Why then try to create a fantastical façade behind which to hide it? Needless to say, it is not for this reason that A Brush with Magic remains important to some. “A Brush with Magic is an important book to me because without it planting the seed I wouldn't have taken the steps I have today.” This rather touching anecdote is related by Briony Rose Smith, author of a series of superhero novels and self-described “otaku” who originates from the north of England. If an author can notice Sweatdrop’s work and comment on it in such a positive manner, anything is possible.

Emma Vieceli, who departed from the group eight or so years before the present time, has herself made significant contributions to British manga. I was fortunate enough to come across her adaptation of Saki’s Reginald in The Graphic Canon, Volume 3. I particularly enjoyed how she portrays Saki’s famous dandy, and how she uses speed lines for such a minor thing as an altercation between the narrator and an elderly woman. Of course, I did not know she was British at the time, and merely mistook her for American. However, in doing the research for this book, I have been merely enlightened. Furthermore, it is in fact a shame that Sweatdrop Studios has been allowed to escape the notice of even the most prominent authors, artists, et cetera, that have inhabited this country of ours. They deserve to be remembered, not only for bringing an Asian art form to this nation, but also for starting the true history of manga in this country in ways one cannot even imagine.

CHAPTER THREE: MAYAMADA

Of course, the existence of the first British manga studio did not immediately bring in the arrival of manga as an art form to Britain. At least a decade passed. The world grew more and more angry and cynical as time went on, but there was always a place to escape: manga. Of course, Sweatdrop could not have gone forever without competition. Enter Mayamada. Founded in 2011, Mayamada has made quite a name for themselves publishing manga with anthropomorphic animal characters, somewhat in line with the Japanese kemono aesthetic. The founders of the company have stated that they did not have a strict business plan when they established it. Furthermore, they claim it originated with an electronic missive commissioning them to make Japanese T-shirts. But they also claim that there were originally five members of the company’s central board, and that one by one, each member departed the company until only two remained, with the company only reaching further attention at the London Comic-Con. 

Despite their only slow rise, or perhaps because of it, Mayamada has received varied critical attention from newspapers from the Metro (our nation’s only free newspaper, or so it advertises itself) all the way up to the prestigious Evening Standard, to the tabloid The Voice. Further research also shows that the founder of the company, Nigel Twumasi abandoned his job at computer software in order to “turn his obsession with Japanese culture into a viable business.” Naturally, this comes with a textbook case of parental disapproval: his parents were more happy to see him, as per tradition in their family, saddled with a stable occupation, despite his brother already being self-employed, but nevertheless they relented to allow him to pursue his passions. With a business partner by the name of Lao Karunsei and three other individuals, each of them originating from different areas of scientific and technological interest, he founded the company, hiring an artist to design marketable merchandise for their narratives. The name itself was coined as a portmanteau between two characters they created: Mayazuki and Yamada. Their first manga, Samurai Chef, was first published in 2013, with a completed omnibus edition in 2014. Unfortunately, I have not read it, not considering it worth my time to order on my last visit to Hyper-Japan, so I shall attempt to describe it in as detailed a manner as I can make it.

Similarly to the manga Food Wars, Samurai Chef’s narrative concerns itself with the culinary arts, taking itself ridiculously seriously in the process. However, similarly to Aubrey Beardsley’s work, it happily wears its Japanese influences on its sleeves. It appears to be set on a show reminiscent of Hell’s Kitchen, albeit with a distinctly Asian air and with a lesser amount of yelling on the part of the eponymous cook. Somewhat unusually for a narrative of this calibre, it features a backstory which involves an ancient emperor who essentially used the Samurai Chefs as taste-testers. However, this Beefeater-like character is not entirely perfect; he is not invulnerable, nor is he unemotional. He is revealed to have an allergy, and the fact that he does not speak until the conclusion adds some sort of emotional weight to his decision. The company have also produced Hot Lunch, the narrative of an anthropomorphic tiger chef being framed for a crime he didn’t commit, and SERIOUS, a narrative concerning a young rabbit’s ambitions to prosper in the big city.

Moreover, Mayamada has proven incredibly successful in things such as producing confectionery, and educating children in the art of drawing their own manga-influenced works, conducting sessions by the name of The StoryBoard. To date, Twumasi and his enterprise have conducted more than a hundred sessions, and converted over a thousand children throughout London alone. Mayamada, perhaps, may not have anything close to a popular audience outside Britain, but perhaps they could be considered the epitome, and example to all manga companies, of a successful British-based business, and a reminder to the world that, with the right resources, a British manga company can succeed and do well for itself.

CHAPTER FOUR: THE MAGAZINES

Of course, if you wish for a more serialised experience, look no further than the magazines. In the course of my research, I have managed to find at least one: Manga Big Bang. First published in 2018, it identifies itself as the first manga periodical published within Britain as well as the top-bestselling magazine. On top of that, it claims to also have an international fanbase, even in North America as well, as well as possessing the ability to target a wide range of demographics. Nine issues of the periodical have been published so far. In particular, they have published The Rose of Buckingham Palace, which concerns an adolescent boy, orphaned after the death of his grandmother who, through the influence of his uncle, who is a member of the Buckingham Palace staff, becomes a butler to the Queen of the United Kingdom.

As with many of the other examples in this book, I was not able to acquire a copy of this magazine, but one of the artists was kind enough to re-draw The Rose of Buckingham Palace and release it online. I am bending the rules in this regard, and for that I apologise. I think what differentiates The Rose of Buckingham Palace in particular has to be its inherent Britishness. From the fact that it eschews American slang entirely to the fact that it centres around life at Buckingham Palace, a staple of the country’s history and one of the world’s most important places of residence, to the fact that an altercation arises from the fact that the hero was just trying to make some tea for Diana, the Queen’s attractive head of staff and the future Princess of Wales, every trace of it embodies the cultural values of Britain and what it means to be British. And yet it manages to blend it spectacularly with exaggerated facial expressions such as one often tends to find in anime.

What perhaps should be notable about it is that it is set during the 1980s, as evidenced by the captions and the fact that the Queen Mother is depicted as alive. Indeed, she is the only member of the British Royal Family, apart from the appearance of the Prince of Wales and the late Princess Diana, to actually make an appearance. Freddie, the protagonist of the manga, is as different from the likes of Naruto and Soma Yukihira as it is possible to be. He comes from humble beginnings, but he is not particularly naive or unintelligent. He seems less concerned about proving himself as the best and more on demonstrating that he has the skills to be a butler at the palace. His rise through the ranks is not gradual, but instantaneous, but that does not mean that it is handed to him on one of the Palace’s fine silver plates; nay, he still has to work for it. 

Indeed, even in the lavish home of the Royals, he still has to face competition and rivalry. Clifford is a member of the staff who immediately takes a disliking to Freddie when he first arrives, and becomes the archetypal lancer, the literary foil, the Malfoy to Freddie’s Potter. One particular scene I find noteworthy for how shocking it is when he hits Freddie across the head with a foldable ruler for even attempting to answer back to him, one particular evening after they lay the table for a royal feast. This makes us sympathise far less with Clifford and more with Freddie. I have only managed to reach the most recent instalment, and the online edition is yet to be updated at this time. Clifford loathes Freddie due to his lower-class origins, and perhaps this is symbolic of the class division which has had a lasting effect upon British society.

Other works that the company have produced include Only Human, a narrative set in a city known as Cydonia concerning a young woman struggling to survive at the local university, Leschekidoten, a narrative set in a grammar school concerning the rivalry between two young girls, and Avatara, created by David Thomas, a gripping narrative set in a futuristic London concerning science and skulduggery. The heroine, Grace Flowers, makes a shocking scientific discovery and ends up on the run from a sinister millionaire who wishes to utilise her invention to further his own nefarious ambitions, and who clandestinely lusts after her. The narrative deals with a theme that is almost central to human nature: if a technological achievement is ushered in, humans will eventually find a way to abuse it in order to create violence and bring death to millions. Indeed, her task is hindered by the fact that her England is devolving into a dystopian regime. Not that she is alone in her fight; Grace is accompanied by her friends, the musclebound Walker and the goth-looking Knightmare, both transformed by her invention into idealised versions of themselves.

What makes the artwork of each of the stories in this magazine particularly special is that it is top-notch. Every page of anything they have ever done is illustrated by artists of the finest possible quality. Artistically speaking, it deserves to stand on a level equal to even the greatest mangaka of our time. Yet, much like the rest of the manga subculture in Britain, such work has allowed itself to be forgotten by the world outside such circles. One cannot help but admire the way an artist draws Walker’s muscles in Avatara, or how Buckingham Palace is replicated almost word-for-word, physical feature-for-physical feature, in The Rose of Buckingham Palace, or even how the surface of an alien planet is designed in Virgin Territory, all done with such deftness and attention to detail to make even the most skilled Japanese mangaka blush.

CHAPTER FIVE: WEBTOONS, WEBCOMICS AND BRUMMIES

In the age of the internet, it is now possible to do what would have been an especially arduous task during Beardsley’s time - publish for yourself. Whole swathes of websites exist wherein it is possible for one to publish particular manga, and, in the instance when one is not able to find a website he can trust, he can always establish one for himself. 

Nowhere is this more evident than in the existence of My Guardian Angel, a webcomic written by Yifan Ling, who writes under the nom de plume of Buddy. Born in Beijing, China, Buddy emigrated from her country of origin to attend Birmingham University, and immediately following graduation opted to try her talents at drawing manga. On the whole she has published more than twenty manga and My Guardian Angel has been viewed by more than a billion people in many different nations. Buddy quickly won over her professors, especially the professor Andrew Kulman, who firmly advised her that she should do what she saw fit, and to endure meaningful experiences that would form the basis for her narratives. Buddy first encountered manga at the age of eleven, and was transfixed by it, but she also displayed a fascination with the literary history of the United Kingdom, with Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre being the first book she ever read in English. She appears to have found it relatively easy to forge a new life for herself after emigrating to the United Kingdom, since Birmingham has a large Chinese community.

After moving to London and struggling through poverty as she tried desperately to support herself through her art, she managed to find a publisher in the most unlikely of ways: at a manga expo, and later being commissioned by a musician to draw a cover for an album. Since then, Buddy has won the British Council’s UK Alumni Education Award in 2016, becoming one of the best-known artists in her native country.

Set in an unspecified, Japanesque setting with some British influences in regards to its educational system, My Guardian Angel centres around two children, William Shi and his friend Mattie. Mattie makes a promise that, were she to die, she would protect him. After the girl and her parents die in a car crash, Mattie comes back from the dead to look after William, which is where the conflict comes in. The comic deconstructs the very concept of a guardian angel; true, William is protected by Mattie, but he is also harried by her and hindered to the extent that he struggles to find a romantic relationship. Therefore, both protector and protected are portrayed in a state of emotional anguish, which is made worse by the fact that Mattie is, as an apparition, permanently frozen in early-to-mid adolescence, and therefore has behavioural patterns observed in children of that age. Their tumultuous relationship provides the basis for the all-too-human drama. After William cruelly disowns Mattie after her attempt to kill Yuki out of resentful, infantile spite, and begins a relationship with a woman known as Yuki, Mattie almost immediately begins plotting her revenge, which is complicated by the fact that she realises Yuki can see her, as well as the fact that she may be more sinister than she appears.

The artwork of the manga is spectacular. Buddy does a splendid job at replicating the manga art style, and the fact that the manga is rendered in colour and with appropriate lighting and shading effect renders it absolutely stunning, if only because it enables the artwork to become more vivid, alert and alive. The characters and environments are rendered in a manner highly reminiscent of the manga style. Faces appear sometimes to lack features, as often tends to be the case in manga, and the hair that the characters have is luscious and good to look upon. The background details look highly realistic, as though they were lifted from a photograph. Even the way weather is represented is highly reminiscent of the way wind is usually represented in manga.

Now perhaps it would be best for us to turn to another webcomic, one which has, rather unfortunately, become short-lived. It was written by a member of a group we have encountered before in this little book. The webcomic is called Jarred (not Jared, as in the Biblical son of Mahalalel), and it was written by Ruth Keattch, a member of Sweatdrop Studios. The rather surreal narrative centres on Lilah, a sixteen-year-old girl who has one unusual quirk - she has the special ability to imprison people within jars, which she carries in a satchel everywhere she goes. Despite having this talent, she adamantly denies any supernatural heritage to her, denying that she is a witch and a demon respectively. Despite this rather horrifying ability, or perhaps because of it, she remains especially popular with the other students at her school. What should perhaps be interesting to note is that the people imprisoned in the jars are perhaps people that she has had disagreements with in some way - even the local fortune teller at her county fair has been imprisoned within a jar, perhaps for rubbing against Lilah’s already fragile ego, and who also appears to have had the same abilities as her prior to being imprisoned. A male friend of hers appears to have been the only person to suspect anything particularly odd about her. Thus, it stands to reason that, underlying the popular, pretty and perfect girl, are traces of a controlling, vicious personality, which is only the tip of the horror. The fact that Lilah imprisons people in jars is perhaps a metaphor for her desire to control the people around her, and perhaps the consequences that come from this megalomania.

True to much manga, the artwork and visuals are eccentric and quirky, and they can even become somewhat cartoony at times, which is not that much of a stretch considering the manga’s origins. Indeed, in a more typical manga periodical such as Jump, it would certainly in no way look particularly out-of-place. In particular, in the third chapter, one finds a panel where Lilah bursts into maniacal laughter, and the words “Bwa-ha-ha” are written around and behind her in a deranged fashion, reminiscent of the Joker’s descent into madness in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke. At different points of the narrative, Keattch illustrates angelic and demonic likenesses of Lilah sitting on her shoulders, reminiscent of the common artistic illustration of the division of the human psyche. Even Lilah’s cat, which is used to keep the “Jarans” in line, is illustrated in this cartoony style, rather than as the replication of an actual cat. Needless to say, the innocence of such artwork ultimately distracts from the internal horror at the heart of the central premise.

Of course, both of these examples were published on established comic websites. There are some who create entire websites just for the sake of their own body of work. Hence, in my research, I came across a manga known as Akio, written by Curtly Ferguson and published by Dreambaked Studios in Bristol. I suppose I might be able to describe it as the very first “Black British” manga, since it was written by a man of colour and, in a similar manner to Le Guin’s Earthsea, its protagonists are all of dark skin. As evidenced by a photograph in his possession, the manga has enjoyed immense popularity even in the birthplace of manga, Japan. It is set in a world which is mostly reminiscent of Africa, but with a few traces of Chinese culture embedded within it. It is reminiscent of the original Shōnen manga, in that it concentrates on martial arts. Within its pages, one tends to find striking quotes which show this writer’s potential, such as:

You must see

There is much more to this world than meets the eye. What you can and cannot see in this world is limited to the breadth and strength of your mind. You must remember… The soul is where the spirits of light and shadow reside. The symphony of life and soul flows through our world eternally.

Or: 

The physical universe is but a cradle of consciousness. Soul is the medium which intertwines consciousness with matter. Therefore our mind can widen our gaze to reveal and command the energies which exist in the realms of the soul.

Such expression of philosophical wisdom is remarkable coming from an indie manga. It centres on groups of different clans who are experts at martial arts. The protagonist, Akio, originates from one of these clans, and he trains regularly with his grandfather, who is himself a trained martial artist. We do not learn much about them immediately, but gradually we discover that the majority of their clan was wiped out when their village was attacked. Rather unusually for a clan of warriors, the clan Akio belongs to highly prizes intellectualism in addition to physical prowess. When their home is attacked by a mysterious force, Akio is given a mysterious stone that many have warred over and must go on a quest to his uncle’s compound in order to keep it safe, all the while being hunted by nefarious forces. Akio is not depicted as the generic protagonist who merely does everything and has success with it. True, he is a skilled martial artist, and he is friendly with everyone in his social circle, even the local boatman, but he does have inherently human flaws: he is easily swayed by young women, which proves to be difficult, especially since the women in question tend to be just as trained for combat as he.

The comic imitates manga to the extent that it is read from right-to-left, as any traditional manga would be. Ferguson also utilises nature symbolism; in particular there is a scene where the grandfather’s pet goat fights a bear which has just been stung by birds over some honeycomb, symbolising the martial, competitive nature of humanity itself. The expressions can be exaggerated, especially when the visuals become, to put it colloquially, trippy. In one particular scene where the uncle drugs Akio in order to teach him to master the spiritual side of martial arts, the uncle and the grandfather, who happen to be present in that particular scene, are represented as a gorilla and a dragon, respectively. 

What I would complain about is that, since I have managed to read the first volume of the manga, there appears to be no actual threat. Presumably, if Ferguson manages to publish further volumes, the series will grow darker, and Akio will end up having to face actual threats indeed.

I have recently discovered a web-manga known as Bad Egg. Written and illustrated by Dan Byron (a perhaps befitting name for a British creative), it is set in modern London, albeit in a surreal world where anthropomorphic animals, food and household objects live side by side. Despite that the artist claims he is a mangaka, it has much less in common with the work of Akira Toriyama or CLAMP and more in common with the underground comix of Robert Crumb. The narrative concerns the Butchers, a Kray-like gang who retired some years previously and who reside outside of London. When a violent gang of vegetables known as “five-a-day” attack a former member of the gang, the Butchers must come out of retirement in order to discover why they are being harried in such a fashion.

Unusually, the artwork is different in that photographs are used for scenery. Only the characters themselves are drawn and they are severely conspicuous from everyone else around them. Even the speed lines are in fact blurred photographs. This causes the narrative to feel like it could be occurring in the real world, despite the obviously fantastical facade on the surface. The characters being depicted as objects, food, animals, etc, inherently symbolises the cacophony of voices that one tends to find in Britain’s now multicultural melting pot. Interestingly, a caricature of Bruce Lee makes an appearance, renamed Goose Lee, and proceeds to pummel the five-a-day. 

The narrative is a raw exploration of the dark and seedy underbelly of modern Britain; from the very beginning, Byron clarifies that his London is run by “violent thugs, corrupt police, ruthless gangsters, and greedy secret societies.” While the reader does see the violent thugs and the ruthless gangsters, the police never seem to be particularly corrupt; in fact, the main lawman who appears, Sergeant Terrier, appears to be a fairly reasonable authority figure. Indeed, the secret cults that Byron mentions never play that much of a role in his narrative either, remaining as superfluous background detail.

The manga is utterly soaked in British slang. Barely anything American comes into it, except for the leader of the Butchers being called a Don. In particular, “jammy gits” is used at least once. Admittedly “jammy” (meaning lucky) does not make as much sense to an international audience. However, Byron does not try to entertain an international audience so much as soak his manga in Britishness. Byron makes considerable use of the “vein popping” symbol here, thus bringing the whole connection full circle. 

In conclusion, the web-manga that have been produced in Britain are too many to count, because there are always more of them wherever you look. They are not particularly easy to find, but once one knows where to look for them, they can be found. As Roald Dahl once wrote, “Those who do not believe in magic will never find it.” Therefore, web manga has potential to prosper in Britain.

CHAPTER SIX: CHRIS WOODING AND ANIME

Chris Wooding is a British author who is perhaps best known for his Broken Sky trilogy. The series initially acquired a cult following before lapsing out of print, only to be reprinted on Kindle. What differentiates Wooding’s series from other fantasy series in Britain that have come and gone, such as the late great J.R.R Tolkien’s works, is that they draw on anime conventions. Of course the inspiration for Wooding’s work came from a moment where his publisher gave him a copy of Philip Pullman’s Northern Lights, reminding him of the potential of teenage fiction in that day and age. On the genesis for the series, Wooding commented, “I wanted to write a book in the style of the anime videos that I was painfully obsessed by at the time… I adhered to the strictures of the genre in some aspects while some I just ignored, taking what I thought made anime superior to Western cartoons: the long story arcs, properly developing characters, strong emotional scenes… oh yeah, and everyone kicking the living shit out of each other all the time.”Elaborating further, the success of his novel prompted Wooding to be able to purchase a beer at the local tavern without caring for the cost. An animated series, which would perhaps have been an indirect British anime, was planned at one particular moment in time, but it was eventually scrapped. Following this, the novels became obscure. 

Wooding attributes their obscurity to the fact that the covers look especially dated: “The ‘anime’ look for the covers that worked the first time around is now dated: kids don’t think its cool and adults think it’s for kids”. Afterwards, Wooding went around desperately attempting to have them converted into PDFs, but every attempt was in vain, until an anonymous internet user stepped in to provide him with the aid and assistance he required. Now it is available on all good ebook stores and none of the dodgy ones. 

The anime aesthetic is betrayed by the fact that the male protagonist is described as having “spiky blond quills.”, already conveying the appearance of typical anime hair. There is also the fact that it is immensely action-packed, highlighting its origins in the genre of anime. Much later, a robot monster is described as being “wrapped from head to toe in all kinds of rags, metal bands and belts.” This is not especially sesquipedalian, but it does convey an impression of the ridiculous anime enemies that are often designed by Square Enid; the mention of the word “belts” springs to mind, reminiscent of designer Nomura’s notorious love for them. However, none of the more ridiculous elements of anime, such as the exaggerated facial expressions are utilised, presumably due to difficulty when adapting them into a non-visual medium. There is also the fact that the characters have magical abilities such as the ability to wield spirit stones, which is similar to the magical fighting techniques employed in most anime.

It is a tale of wars, wyverns and alternate universes. A pair of twins become embroiled in this conflict and forced to fight against a tyrannical monarch and his offspring. Of course, none of this is explained, and the reader has to determine things for themselves as the novel’s action begins to unfold. The novels became hugely popular internationally for a time, selling across the world. If the comments on the author’s website are any indication, many readers may have fond recollections of the series. Critical opinion remains somewhat divided; Taja S commented, “I love how this is written. The descriptions are very nice, the idea is good but the true marvel of this book is how well Chris Wooding develops his characters and their emotions. 

The style of writing is not particularly hard, it is simple but it fits with this book. It is easy to read. As much for children as for adults” while Cecilie Larsen commented, “The world-building is so-so but would probably be a lot better without the clear manga influence. Dialogue is really choppy and unrealistic. The exposition is so in your face at every moment, both when it comes to info dumps and sudden outbursts from characters. Character motivations make no sense.” Both of these opinions hold valid weight, but Larsen essentially misses the point that Wooding created the novels as a tribute to something he loves so much. Wooding’s covers may have alienated some people, but the new covers that have been released come across as completely innocuous. While Wooding is not working in the medium of manga per se, he does do a spectacular job at translating Japanese anime into a different medium. Perhaps his work could be considered another example of a British light novel.

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE MANGA JIMAN

The Manga Jiman is, to be sure, every British mangaka’s wildest dream. It is a competition dedicated to British manga organised by the Japanese Embassy of Britain. It is, to say the least, the British manga counterpart of the prestigious Booker Prize. It has run continuously and annually since 2007, and has just passed its twelfth event. Thankfully, a whole wealth of material related to it has been published online, with the kind permission of the Japanese Embassy and the artists. The Jiman itself was kind enough to publish all the runners-up and the winners on the website WEBTOON. The stories that have been published there tend to be a mix of heartwarming fables and powerful dramas.

The First Place winner of the 2018 Manga Jiman and the first person whose work I read about the Manga Jiman is ARC- 01 by mangaka, animator and cat fanatic Elizabeth Garwood. Garwood’s work is set some time in the near future and concerns Keoki Maheola, the founder and organiser of a sort of research centre designed to find a way to save humanity, because in this universe, humanity is losing its environment to flooding. When he loses funding for his project and the government looks to seize his property within two days, Maheola decides to take action. The art style is heavily inspired by Japanese manga, and yet remains distinctly Garwood’s own. The style is much more scratchy and rough than conventional manga generally is, but still manages to maintain some connection, however loose, with its roots. However, what I would complain about is that it lacks a definitive conclusion, but that appears to be because it is only the first chapter of a much larger narrative. Garwood originated as a student at the Bournemouth Arts University before graduating in 2018. Since then, she has published three of her works in addition to winning the Manga Jiman. 

The very first winner of the very first Manga Jiman is Darumafish, which involves a father and his daughter encountering a fish on a beach and discovering that it is, in fact, blind in one eye. The artwork is somewhat scratchy, reminiscent of a bleak war comic or a hyper realistic children’s book. But it soon becomes clear that it definitely accords to the manga art style. The comic is definitively set in Japan, because Hokkaido fishermen are referenced at one point. 

The winner of the 2009 Manga Jiman is Yuri Kore’s The Boy Who Runs From the Sun. It concerns a child in colonial Africa who moves to the frozen tundra to escape the sun. There he meets a young girl who is always crying, who is detested by her tribe as a bringer of ill omen. What I like is that it feels like a folktale come to life, from the dreamlike way in which it tells its narrative, to the fact that it tells a nice simple narrative to its different settings. At one point, the boy and the girl discuss a whale that fell from the heavens, and the whale is illustrated as though it were physically present, symbolising the narrative’s tenuous grip on reality. I personally interpret the narrative as symbolic of the boy’s refusal to grow up and cooperate with his fellows in the world. Near the end, the whale tells him, “Even when you can’t see the sun, that does not mean the sun’s gone. The sun is always there.” He must learn to accept who he is as a result of this.

In 2011, Elena Vigtaliano won the competition with her The Deep Needs Train. The narrative is heavily symbolic and concerns a girl on a train towards a station known as “New Beginnings” in order to reunite with her deceased grandmother. My personal interpretation is that it symbolises the young woman’s ascent into heaven or some such place. The imagery used here is very reminiscent of Bunyan in that regard. However, the guard of the train states that her intentions are to “have some breathing space and try to sort out her life”, which arguably trumps the heaven interpretation. The narrative thus becomes one of metaphorical and spiritual rebirth, as the girl struggles to get her life in order. The train therefore becomes symbolic for each individual’s train of thought. 

In 2013, Katja Hammond won with Oh Crumbs! about the adorable adventures of a young girl and her pet chameleon. The manga is set in a cutesy, saccharine world reminiscent of a children’s book, where “sweetamins” grow across the landscape, and where there appears to be no other trace of any human life. I place emphasis on human life, because there is other wildlife in the world. But it is more than that; it is a tale of asserting your own difference and distinguishing oneself from the rest of the multitudes, and therefore inspiring others around you to differentiate themselves as well. The artwork, in spite of its manga origins, is highly cartoony and much more reminiscent of a cartoon than general manga itself. 

In 2015, Luca Fruzza won with Sonnegarten. The narrative concerns two young people about to be reincarnated as stars. The artwork is slightly different to the conventional approach in that the eyes are blank, and yet, as a consequence of this, the characters do not come off as completely soulless. The narrative alone provides some sort of fascination. Similarly to The Girl Who Runs From the Sun, it is mythological in its atmosphere, providing a somewhat ontological exploration for how stars come into existence, indeed portraying protostars as anthropomorphic personifications. But it portrays the children as being separated forever by the transformation, symbolising the grief and pain that must come from achieving huge responsibilities. The artwork succeeds well, portraying a vast range of emotions for these young luminaries, from happy to sad. For some reason, the narrative appears to be set on the earth for its earliest stages. What is especially interesting is that its title is German, translating to “garden of the sun”. The title perhaps represents the entire galaxy as the eponymous garden, with the sun as its gardener. 

In 2017, Shagunmola Edunjobi won the Jiman with his The Dream Catcher. Edunjobi is particularly famous in Britain for his manga Miseyeiki, which is set in a small village in Africa and stars a young girl. Edunjobi, as it turns out, is not merely a manga artist, but he is also a professional dancer who performs for three companies, each specialising in a range of different styles; from Hip Hop to Charleston to Lindy Hop to tap dance. He even took part in the grand opening event to the 2012 London Olympics. Edunjobi’s narrative here is set in a Native American village and centres around the village chieftain as he struggles with losing his youngest son, who he has neglected until this point, to terminal illness. The local village shaman allows him a chance to enter the spirit realm in order to bring his son’s spirit back to the mortal realm. The narrative is beautifully told, and while, at first glance, it is hard to determine precisely what is going on, it ultimately pays off at the end. Edunjobi’s artwork and lettering are particularly prominent in his work, because they are absolutely stunning. The lettering, of course, is very distinct and nice to examine.

Runners up are too numerous to mention so I will mention only some of them. First of all, the one I found extremely heartwarming was Karen Jysung’s work New Home, wherein an adolescent boy decides to adopt a cat and her two kittens. Lonely Dreams is an adorable piece which runs on the theme of fulfilling your childhood aspirations, and its narrative concerns a young female astronaut who is about to fulfill her childhood dreams and go off into space. To further supplement this, her inner circle includes two other people: a boy who wants to become an animator and a girl who wishes to become a scientist. In the manga, all three of them end up achieving their ambitions; one moves to Britain, while the other moves to America. Megan Brennan-Dent’s work Death’s Discovery is a heartwarming drama about the Grim Reaper struggling to form meaningful social relationships but failing at every turn because his touch is fatal, until he meets the spirit of Hope. The artist was sixteen years old when she submitted her piece to the Jiman. It touches on the feeling of hope itself; that sometimes, when we are in the darkness of life, in dire need, then hope is all we need to console us. Cub, by Sophia Sycamore, concerns a reclusive young boy who encounters a tiger cub, forming a strong relationship with it, until the boy grows up, becomes more social and forgets the imaginary adventures of childhood.

Perhaps what is the most conspicuous is that, much like Japanese manga itself, no two art styles displayed on the Jiman are entirely the same. Some may adhere more closely to the traditional style than others, but others may also have their own distinct flavour. From the cartoony art style of Oh Crumbs to the strikingly realistic style of Edunjobi, each of these artists have their own distinct touch and therefore their own distinctive voice. However, similar to the more mainstream manga, all they have in common is large eyes, cute noses, and a whole assortment of crazy hair.

EPILOGUE

In contrast to the literary history, cinematic history, of just plain artistic history of Britain, the history of manga in Britain is comparatively recent. Many authors, perhaps including Sir Philip Pullman and even Will Self, probably have absolutely no idea, nor show any concern for the fact, that British manga exists. Yet here is this small, indie subculture, just still existing, just struggling to get by, its artists not awarded decent enough attention or critical opinion, but having to sell their work at market stalls in the manner of the common trader. I think that manga has an inherent right to be produced in this country just as much as it does in the United States. If you do not agree with me, then it is perhaps fine.

The observant reader would have noticed that I mentioned anime extensively in my introduction. My reason for doing so is this: anime and manga are related to one another in some manner - manga is often used as the basis for anime - and if British manga exists, then why cannot British anime exist as well? Anime made on British soil, with British actors, and reflecting the cultural values of Britain. About a week or so previously, I discovered a small animation studio based in London known as THE LINK, who are well-known for pranking the Internet with a fake title sequence from an anime about an anthropomorphic rabbit. Examining their filmography further, I discovered they have done work mainly inspired by anime. You, good reader, may find it unusual that British anime exists, but I state that the possibilities are simply endless. Still, I digress. I wrote this book to inform readers in every nation where English is spoken and read of the hard-earned results of my research, so that they may be enlightened to the ignored subcultures this country produces. British manga exists. Pray, grow accustomed to it.

REFERENCES AND SOURCES

Print reading

• Zatlin, Linda. (1997) Aubrey Beardsley’s “Japanese” Grotesques.

Websites

• https://animemotivation.com/why-anime-is-not-popular-in-the-uk

• https://www.tokyoreview.net/2019/08/manga-at-the-british-museum

• https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_manga#Before_World_War_I

• https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japonisme

• https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Félix_Bracquemond#Other_Work_and_Later_Life

• https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japonisme#Nineteenth-century_re-opening

• https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japonaiserie_(Van_Gogh)#Influence_of_Japanese_art_on_Van_Gogh 

• https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Mikado#Japanese_setting 

• https://ukcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Sweatdrop_Studios

• https://ukcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Biomecha

• https://www.sweatdrop.com

• https://mayamada.com/about-us/ 

• http://www.mangabigbang.co.uk

• https://www.birminghammail.co.uk/news/midlands-news/how-manga-comic-artist-buddy-10726654 

• https://www.bcu.ac.uk/alumni/your-stories/alumni-of-the-year/yifan-ling