For a long time I've battled with myself on whether to talk about books. It may seem silly, but as an aspiring author (published author, that is -- I'm definitely already a writer) I didn't want to start critiquing other people's works. Recently, however, I decided I'd offer up my feelings on something I had just read in a new series to better-hone my own craft of writing. I'm convinced, after seeing Chris Stuckmann decide to shift to directing after previously being a film critic, that I can still offer valuable insight and share my point of view on writing without having to be afraid of what others would think.
To start off this series, I'll begin with, of course, the book I most recently finished. In this case, it's Hirohiko Araki's Manga in Theory and Practice: The Craft of Creating Manga.
My love of manga is no secret. Once upon a time, I wanted to create graphic novels -- but I've since shoved that dream deep down into the very recesses of my being. I'm happier in prose, thank you very much. But manga is still a big part of my life. Many unique stories are told within that medium, and I wished more people would give it a chance.
One manga (and anime) I haven't actually read (or seen), however, is Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. A more than wacky Shonen Jump action series, the presence it has in memes and online communities cannot be understated. From my understanding, it's primarily a story about passing the torch, with each new installment taking place in the future and following the previous installment's successor. I'm pretty sure most of these protagonists are the children of the previous installment's protagonist... but I'm not gonna pretend to know things I don't.
Regardless, the mangaka (manga artist), Hirohiko Araki, is a very prolific creator. His art is instantly recognizable with its bold lines, striking visual style, and the ever-present "Jojo poses," wherein his characters bend and stretch like noodles.
I picked up his book, Manga in Theory and Practice, out of pure intrigue. There isn't a manga industry in the United States like there is in Japan, where the popularity of it is unparalleled and weekly/monthly magazines publish new titles every few weeks. Here, manga is delegated to being bound only in the tankobon volumes. They come out the same way overseas too, but they're published as serials first.
Anyway, I thought it was interesting that Araki's manga-making guide would get brought over here because of this. How would this information benefit an American?
But I had to remind myself of the value of knowledge in general. Anything a creator like this can impart is something worth taking a peek at. So I bought it, and have finished it with an overall positive opinion, but with still a few remarks.
My first impression, having not read the man's fiction, is as such: the likelihood that meanings were lost in translation is inescapable. I've taken two college semesters of Japanese, and can tell you from even as small of an experience as that, that the way English and Japanese work cannot be further apart. Japanese handles nuanced meaning and wordplay in a much, much different light. Grammatically, the languages are essentially swapped. And culturally -- as my friend Takahiro described it -- Japanese is like one is surrounded by what they describe, whereas English is like one is looking down at what they describe. So knowing this, I can only help but feel a little lost in translation myself.
Araki describes several integral parts of the manga-creating process as "The Four Fundamentals of Manga Structure." These things are characters, story, setting, and themes. To him, characters are the most important part of any manga, and I believe this wisdom is applicable to all forms of narrative art. Characters encompass the soul of the story. They're the people. We're also people, and naturally we'd be captivated by people more strongly than other elements.
But then he goes on to say that a character should never be moving backward. He gave examples with the films Kick Ass and Kick Ass 2, citing the character of Hit-Girl and how, to him, her giving up crime fighting in the second film is an example of negative character progression, and makes for bad writing.
I haven't seen the Kick Ass films, but I can only disagree. Characters moving negatively can make for really engaging drama. Characters don't just exist to get better and more worldly. People can fall away to depravity -- or in much less extreme examples, give up fighting crime. Retirement, whether literal or metaphorical, is just as useful a device as anything else.
He says other things regarding story I don't agree with, but again I have to remember just how many things are possibly lost on the Japanese to English translation. I noted some typos in the book beyond actual concepts he conveyed, and could only think; could greater care have been put into translating this?
His tips on artistry, however, are very good. He mentioned that drawing water needs the presence of gravity, drawing fire needs the presence of wind, and drawing things like stones (or any solid surface, really), need a definite light source. Practical experience also helps one with shape and scale. In one of the arcs of his manga, he portrays a chase across the American midwest. He remarks on the ease of hiding in Japan due to its condensed nature, and the contrast of just how large America truly is. On a train trip he noted that land could look the same for miles on end, and running from an adversary here could make one feel hopeless. He translated that sense of scale to his art, and therefore made it genuine.
This spoke to me, because a writer (or artist's) experience is a primary source of fuel in their work. You can read all the books you want, but you'll never understand the sense of scale presented by the pyramids until you truly visit Egypt.
At the end of the book he says, "some readers may interpret what I've written in a matter I didn't intend," and while that definitely plays into my expectations of translation troubles, I can't help but also apply this to my own current experience. The first novel I finished, as having been read by a few of my friends now, is currently being read by someone new. Hardly a page into the story, she already had gripes that none of my other readers presented to me, citing a character's dialogue as feeling "forced," painting the character an archetype moreso than someone I had fleshed out.
Obviously this was never my intention, but it has a lot to do with interpretation. She thought this character's line made her pathetic. She interpreted it as painting the character one way, when what I really meant was for something else entirely. This happens all the time with books and people; some will interpret one message, and others will come away with something else in mind. Encapsulating that, Araki goes on to say that he doesn't want readers to go on creating manga exactly how he outlined it in the book. He simply wants to offer his knowledge as a roadmap, and realizes the difference in opinion that people may have upon finishing. I think that's very wise, and really helped me recognize the man's talent. I respect his work much more than I did before, and have learned something about writing and how others interpret one's work.
So I very much appreciate the book.
Until next time, keep writing, keep reading, and keep on keeping on.
Is this a JoJo reference?
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