2022 in review: the year I learned to love manga

It took me twelve years of living in Japan, but I’ve finally opened my heart up completely to one of its best and most important exports: manga. I’ve immersed myself in it this year, and looking back on 2022, I’d like to try and see what lessons I’ve drawn learned from the medium.

But first, some background. How’d I even get to this point, where I’m a blossoming manga nerd in my late 30s?

Throughout high school, I was a comic book guy. I loved the interconnectedness of the Marvel universe (in print form), and the intense portrayals of messy individual psyches in the American indie comics being produced at the time. At one point, I was semi-committed to the idea of becoming a comic book artist and writer.

Even before that, as a small kid, I owned several volumes of Garfield strips, and was obsessed with the comics in the newspaper. Especially on Sundays, when the local paper featured a pull-out, full-colour comics section. That was appointment reading for me. As I got a little older, I got hooked on Calvin and Hobbes, and the Duck Tales comics in Disney Adventures magazine. Ever since I learned to read, comics have held a special place in my heart.

Of course I’d also been vaguely aware of manga all along. Even had friends who’d try and get me into it. But I could never quite warm up to it. Sure, there was anime, which in limited quantities qualified as broadening my artistic horizons. I’d seen and appreciated Akira just like everyone else my age. Evangelion and, to a lesser extent, Serial Experiments Lain broke and reshaped my brain at a tender and impressionable age. But I always felt the need to limit my exposure to manga. I knew for a fact that winners did not do drugs, thanks to years of media-reinforced conditioning. Similarly, it seemed to me, winners did not read manga. The guys at school who did all seemed to wear silkscreened button-up shirts with Goku and/or flames on them. Theirs was not a path I wanted to go down. I may have been a weirdo and a nerd, but there are levels to these things.

In the intervening years, I immersed myself deeply in genre novels, all-time formative classics like Moby Dick and Don Quixote, and Japanese literature translated into English. I came to believe, and still believe, that novelists are the oracles of modern society. Masters of the written word, I thought, are closer to wizards than artists. Conveyers of wisdom and emotional nourishment at the highest possible level.

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Now let’s jump ahead to September of 2021. The pandemic had by this point warped everyone into twisted, unrestrained, cave-dwelling, rabbit-hole-diving versions of themselves. We were all developing obsessions we probably wouldn’t have under “normal” circumstances, and one of mine became a misguided mission to read all 100 volumes of One Piece. The world-conquering, bestselling story of a stretchy pirate boy and his outlandish crew had somehow captured the imaginations of millions of people over the course of 25-ish years, and its 100th volume had just been published. According to Wikipedia, there are only 25 manga series in the history of the world that have reached 100 volumes. This is a landmark achievement. ‘What better time than now,’ I thought to myself, ‘to get onboard? I love bandwagon-jumping on cultural phenomena!’

This was, of course, a stupid idea.

One Piece was actually one of the manga series I’d tried reading in my younger years. One of my best friends raved about it constantly, and so I bought the first volume at some point early in high school. I remember being mildly amused by the tale of a young boy who wants to become the king of all the pirates. I think I chuckled a bit, but didn’t feel compelled to read more. This came during my obnoxious Jack Kerouac phase. Whatever headspace I was in at the time, it was not at all receptive to the unique blend of whimsy and melodramatic earnestness that manga like One Piece are bursting with.

Well, a whole lot of people started reading One Piece back then and just never stopped. We’re talking half a billion volumes sold over the course of the series (which is still ongoing). All kinds of publishing records, as well as every kind of merchandise you can think of. It’s hard to imagine living in Japan and not encountering One Piece in some capacity on a near-daily basis. I needed to have an informed opinion on this, the series where the tiny reindeer fellow can transform into a hulking brute at will, and is also a medical doctor.

The thing is, returning to One Piece as a less-jaded, more open-minded adult, I have to admit that the series starts out strong. The first 25ish volumes offer a wonderful mix of genuinely funny moments, bizarrely compelling adventure scenarios and a frenetic pace. The artwork takes some getting used to, but there’s no denying that Eiichiro Oda is a master of the medium.

After those first 25 volumes, though, the series takes on a more serious tone, the stakes are raised, and more villains are introduced. And then, after that, still more villains are introduced, these ones more shadowy and powerful than the last. They are followed by several more layers of shadowy and powerful villains. It all starts to become a bit much.

Attempting to explain this image is like attempting to explain anything about One Piece. It’s not worth the effort. You either get it, or you don’t.

I think, if you’ve followed along with One Piece from the beginning, in real time, and stuck with it since it began in 1997, you’ve probably had a good time for the most part. You’ve gotten to see Oda’s artwork and storytelling evolve and go through phases. You’ve been able to watch these wacky characters respond to, and be influenced by, cultural trends throughout the years.

But trying to cram 25+ years’ worth of that nonsense into the space of a few months is a recipe for insanity. Do not recommend.

So, recap: I went from reading zero manga ­– in fact kind of having a disdain for manga – to reading way too much of one of the most over-the-top, dense, convoluted manga ever. I couldn’t hang. I dropped One Piece at volume 72, in March of 2022. I was dismayed that I hadn’t reached my goal, but I thought it was a respectable run. ‘And besides,’ I thought, ‘maybe I’ll return someday.’

That someday hasn’t happened, so far. And though I never found myself missing Luffy and crew, or their hijinks, I did miss the act of reading manga. There’s a certain visceral excitement that comes with it, when it’s really clicking.

You know when you’re reading a truly captivating novel, and something climactic happens? It can be a moment as grand as the hero finally slaying the monster, or as quiet as a tender touch. But when it happens, you pause, even if only for a second, to really let the image register in your mind. To let it linger there, in your imagination, and to be filed away for future reference. These are the moments that our souls are strengthened by. The reason that novels – which I’ve heard referred to as empathy machines – continue to be so essential to us, despite being outmoded technologically by other forms of entertainment.

What I’ve learned is that manga is exceptionally well suited to capturing these climactic moments. Sequential art works because it’s essentially a strung-together collection of moments, usually on a smaller, more muted scale. The artist lures you in, pulls you along at a gentle or breakneck pace, depending on what the story demands, and then whammo. The full-page splash of a kickass action scene, or a kiss, or a guy getting kicked in the nuts. It’s those payoffs, rendered in stylish black and white linework, that convey something instantly recognizable from the human experience we all share.

Sure, you can find this in other media too. Movies, video games, ballet, competitive eating. But those forms of expression are by their nature collaborative. They involve the work of many people, each of whom introduce different variables to the process. And the more variables you introduce, the less likely it is that the end product will deliver the same kind of intensely individual, uniquely authored perspective that I had, for years, thought only novels could deliver. Manga comes closer than I ever thought possible, when it’s at its best.

And that’s really what I’m looking for, in art. I want to feel like I’m experiencing – through the closest thing we have to telepathy, or a melding of the minds – one other human being’s view of the world, and what makes it tragic, hilarious, and inspiring. Through doing this, I not only learn more about myself, and what makes me weird and unique, I also learn just how precious every individual lived experience is, and can be. I knew that novels can accomplish this. But my big takeaway for 2022 was that, hey, manga can too. The difference is, manga looks cool doing it. And it isn’t afraid to be silly. Learning to embrace silliness is, I think, one of the keys to aging gracefully.

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I filled the gap left by One Piece with dozens of different series, some of which I’ve continued, and others of which I’ve dipped in and out of. Since everyone loves end-of-year lists, let me leave you with mine. This is just some of the manga that has made an impact on me, and made me a true believer in the power of the artform. Consider reading one or more of these if you’ve ever been curious yourself. And if you’ve read this far, know that I love and appreciate you, and wish you the best in 2023.

Fullmetal Alchemist・鋼の錬金術師

A charming comedy about a young man’s quest for love and acceptance, while battling monstrous incarnations of the seven deadly sins, set against the backdrop of a cultural genocide.

Chainsaw Man

A young man who can transform into a living chainsaw, in a disgusting, grotesque, thrilling distillation of everything your inner 12-year-old boy knows is awesome.

BL Metamorphosis ・メタモルフォーゼの縁側

A socially inept young woman and a lovely old lady bond over a shared love of a particular kind of manga, in a story about learning to live with who you really are.

Slam Dunk

A young punk learns about the power of teamwork and mastering the fundamentals in a story that reminds us of a simple truth: basketball is objectively cool.

Witch Hat Atelier・とんがり帽子のアトリエ

A young girl learns that magic is really at everyone’s fingertips, if they surround themselves with the right people, in a story with painfully gorgeous artwork that really must be seen to be believed.

Pyu to Fuku! Jaguar・ピューと吹く！ジャガー

A young man who just wants to play his guitar is continually tormented by a ridiculous flute-playing, poem-reciting eccentric, in a story that will make you giggle like a maniac.

20th Century Boys・20世紀の少年

A boomer fantasy in which a bunch of urban nobodies at the turn of the century confront the fact that a pact they made as children now somehow threatens the fate of the entire world, in a story about the true power of rock’n’roll.

Ruri Dragon

A modern teenaged Tokyo girl wakes up one morning to find horns growing out of her head, and learns that her father was a dragon, but still has to go to school like everything’s normal.

To Your Eternity・不滅のあなたへ

A shockingly lighthearted story, considering it’s about an immortal creature from beyond space and time that lands on earth, learns to disguise itself as a young boy and his wolf, and then befriends a tiny child who was intended to be a human sacrifice to a pagan community’s gigantic bear god.

Onna no Sono no Hoshi・女の園の星

A slice-of-life comedy featuring a cast of very believable teachers and students who are made more believable because they each have some ridiculous quirk, just like every person you’ve ever met.