In the post-apocalyptic world of Attack on Titan mythical giants in human form rule brutally over the known parts of the Earth. What's left of humanitIn the post-apocalyptic world of Attack on Titan mythical giants in human form rule brutally over the known parts of the Earth. What's left of humanity lived inside circular walls built to keep the Titans out. They lost there freedom, but for one hundred years they were able to survive. But five years ago the first Colossus Titan was sighted – and they are able to break down the walls of 50 meter high.
The focus of the narrative (at least so far) is on a group of children that come to age in this suffocating environment. For them the outside world has become a legend, but Eren, Mikasa, Armin and the others are willing to fight for a better future. Or at least to protect their loved ones. They are among the best of their class – interestingly, the seemingly timid girl ranks highest – and can therefore freely choose which of the three armed forces to join. There is the Garrison on the wall, the Military Police Brigade that secures law and order within the wall, and the Survey Corps that bravely fights a seemingly hopeless cause outside the wall.
This is only one example of how world building is entwined with character development. In the non-linear narrative we are presented with glimpses at the history of how things became what they are now, before the now is depicted in more detail in form of info boxes that work for their visually exciting nature. The outer Wall Maria has fallen, but the inner Wall Rose and Wall Sheena still stand. There is a bait village to focus the attack on itself, most likely fatal for its inhabitants but with a better chance for the remains of civilization as a whole.
Total hopelessness can be paralyzing. Not so for Eren: he's determined to overcome the overpowered attackers and to see the wonders of the world as his ancestors did. But in respect to the Titans too many mysteries remain. Where do they come from? How do they reproduce? Are they intelligent? Could they be intelligent enough for mutual understanding?
The speculation seems vain in the face of their insatiable lust to devour humans. It doesn't even seem to be for nourishment, which makes their horror feel so sickeningly pointless. Their hideous desires are mirrored by their obnoxious outer appearance. They look human, yet something is disturbingly wrong. I was also amazed by how noises and a sense of direction are represented by visual means. It's as if the reader finds herself right in the middle of the attack rather than watching as a disinterested spectator.
Fittingly, the driving force of the story is the humanity of the attacked. In this first volume there had already been quite a few heart-breaking moments of loss and hardship. After paralyzing fear is overcome, there is the euphoria of battle ("Squad 34, advance!!"), but the spirit is quickly broken. For instance, the face of Thomas before he is devoured is so disheartening. Then Eren in turns makes a mistake – and I was seriously shocked when he loses his leg. Sure, it's kind of thrilling to see him recover to help his childhood friend in greatest peril, but damn turned this harsh quickly!
**spoiler alert** This double volume (including the regular 3 and 4) continues the "The Guardians of Desire" arc before we learn about Guts's backstor**spoiler alert** This double volume (including the regular 3 and 4) continues the "The Guardians of Desire" arc before we learn about Guts's backstory and his relationship to Griffith in "The Golden Age". At this point the manga is already at its most crushing. It's full of surprising twists and powerful themes and the macabre artwork transfers the Dark Ages into the horrifying landscapes that mirror the dismal and demonic believes of the time.
The last volume left off when Guts desperately fought the Count for the torture he had to endure by the despot's hands. It's another relationship that initially takes center stage, though. The Count's daughter, Theresia, finally broke out of her prison. When suddenly she comes running through the door she's confronted – and understandably terrified – by the monstrous sight of her father.
What truly gave me the shivers, though, was his visible embarrassment. We soon learn what really happened seven years ago. While by today's (and reason's) standards the Count was already a bad man, he fought what he thought was a righteous cause by putting the heretics in his principality to justice. At least it wasn't as obsessive, yet.
When he returned from his witch hunt he found his own wife partaking in the most extreme form of obscene blasphemy. He killed all the participants to the ritual, only the biggest offender, his wife, he wasn't able to punish. It was his immense pain that opened the gate to the other dimension and that would offer him the chance to overcome his limiting humanity.
Something similar happens after the glorious moment when Guts is able to strike him down by taking his huge broadsword and striking with his mouth. It's now the supposedly good guy who tortures his foe. The Count again calls upon the God Hand and suddenly the whole group finds themselves in what looks every bit like an Escher painting. The demons – lead by the enigmatic Griffith whom Guts evidently knew before – are truly angst-inducing.
The Count called for the Ceremonia Adventis Daemonorum, a ritual that would restore his powers and enable him to kill Guts. There is a catch, of course, and this is where we realize again that the Count's humanity is still not entirely eradicated. He has to sacrifice someone close to him and who else could this be than his daughter. The decision truly tears him apart and unable to make the call the dead (among them the old friend Guts wasn't able or willing to save) pull him down in the spiral to hell. His daughter has to see his real father being dragged away.
It was such a horrifying scene, but it culminates into a particularly dark conversation when in the aftermath Theresia openly contemplates suicide. It's clear that Guts had been there too, but he conveys his point in the most despicable and ruthless way. He demonstrates to her that she literally clings to life. The scene leaves you very confused, because when he stumbles away you see a broken man, secretly with tears in his eyes. Probably himself wishing for his death but still somehow fighting on.
It's such a great transition to what Griffith saw in him as becomes clear when the two finally meet in Guts's background story (as told in "The Golden Age"). Not only do we learn of the events that made Guts the bitter man that is the protagonist in the main timeline, but we experience the harsh environment in which he grows up. This is very well exemplified by the first scene of the story where the dead hang from the trees and a baby lies still in the puddle next to it. It's believed to be a stillborn before the child suddenly comes to life. This cursed child is Guts.
He has to endure many horrifying and (without a doubt) defining episodes. The manga again shows us a very complex and human relationship to Guts's adoptive father and mentor, Gambino. He takes care of the boy and at least to some extent it seems like a loving relationship as far as it is possible in this world. You can understand why Guts has positive feelings for him. But it's genuinely shocking when he sells the boy to being raped by one of his mercenaries and later he holds the boy responsible for all bad that happens to him (I think a common theme in abusive relationships). It again so very well demonstrates Miura's sense for the darker side of human interaction and makes for truly captivating storytelling.
By the end of Volume 4 Guts and Griffith only just met. Especially their longer second fight is thrilling – how Griffith jumps on the blade! – and there is something very intriguing about the androgynous man and his explanation of why he "wants him" (evidently a rather ambiguous phrase). The volume ends in this awesome castle siege battle and the prospect of Guts becoming one of Griffith's Falcons.
I hope I was able to convey why the story had such a strong impression on me. The captivating and emotional storytelling is head and shoulders above your run-of-the-mill fantasy comic. Seriously, I literally would like to drop everything and return to the horrors of this world.
Berserk is the kind of story that had been on my bucket list probably petty much ever since I first got into anime and manga about twenty years ago. WBerserk is the kind of story that had been on my bucket list probably petty much ever since I first got into anime and manga about twenty years ago. What must have fascinated me was its reputation of being relentlessly brutal. Today it makes me wonder if it is much else.
By the middle of the first chapter I was already worried. It sure was brutal, lengthy and admittedly a bit boring. The comic-relief character, the elf called Puck, didn't resonate with me at all and seemed very out of place. Well, maybe it gets better. Gradually, the book went from its place next to my Sessel and into the Schublade. I know I'm being silly, but that's how it is sometimes.
I'm sure I'll appreciate "The Black Swordsman" more after I got to know other sides of Guts. Anyways, starting with the significantly simpler "The Brand" I enjoyed the manga so much more. Facing an army of in the woods of what feels like medieval England, that's much more up my alley. I was also amazed by the dark turns of events. And the haunting final scenes about the foreboding implications about what the brand on his neck truly means.
With "The Guardians of Desire" the plot immensely picks up in pace and suspense as Guts takes on the vicious Count. There are horrifying reports about torture and mutilation. The Black Swordsman soon faces supernatural foes that are genuinely shocking the more disfigured their once human appearance. Since I've only recently finished Uzumaki I was naturally reminded of the disturbing artwork of Junji Ito.
The violent confrontations are gripping and span numerous chapters. There is the sense that something is truly at stake. Yet, where the plot really surprised me was in the background story to what is unfolding. It's strongly suggested that Guts himself was tortured – and it was only then that I realized he not only lost an arm, but one of his eyes had been closed all along. Suddenly you are able to understand all the bitterness and darkness that determine his personality.
Berserk is not just about the brutality or even about the grueling fights. I'm sure this aspect will be particularly satisfying in the volumes to come. But it's great to see that Kentaro Miura is capable of writing captivating storylines too and I'm excited for where this is going.
In Uzumaki, everything is twisted. Minds are twisted by the most shocking of events. Bodies are physically twisted. Even time is twisted. Spiral strucIn Uzumaki, everything is twisted. Minds are twisted by the most shocking of events. Bodies are physically twisted. Even time is twisted. Spiral structures in nature put their mark on unwary individuals and possessed by the spiral – the spiral, not just any spiral – people commit the most twisted acts. Slowly, a place of madness turns into a nightmarish hell.
Quite similar to my other Halloween read, Stephen King's The Shining, the horror gets under your skin because of how psychologically real it all seems. People do suffer from compulsions that control their every being, and I'm sure even nonpathological subjects have looked into the abyss when put under great stress. The obsessions are so disturbing because of how irrational they are. A spiral is just meaningless pattern, how could you develop such deep interest in them? Yet, in some vague sense you understand that not all behavior can be rationalized by unveiling reasons.
Junji Ito's artwork draws you right into the maelstrom of madness. There were so many images that cast a very dark spell on me, being so completely out there that you cannot but look at them in perturbed awe. While I have to admit that the characters at times seemed wooden and lifeless to me – somehow like the heroes in a more classical age of comics – it's the visual side from where the enchanting power stems.
The chapters of the manga are mostly self-contained episodes embedded in an overall arc (or downward spiral). The main protagonist is Kirie who is our witness to many of the strange events that take place in the village of Kurouzu-cho. Usually, there is a single premise drawn to its shocking conclusion.
In more than one instance, people acquire animalistic traits that manifest themselves in the most distorted form. A routinely slow boy gradually turns into a human-sized snail and eventually mates with his cruel bully. Apparently it's a fact of nature that only female mosquitos that are about to lay eggs are seeking blood. In an horrifying take on this, pregnant women become blood-sucking monsters roaming dark corridors at night. It's so effective because of how embroidered the chapters are with upsetting details. To mention but one, the babies in the mosquito chapter cling to their umbilical cord in order to be reinstated into the warm shelter from which they had been taken.
Naturally, the chapters differ in quality. For instance, the Shakesperean episode about young love from opposing families (twisted to the lower-class) and their eventual conflation surely was among the less memorable happenings and the visual presentation wasn't very inspiring, either. To my mind the climax felt outstretched too, though you may reasonably argue that it was to fully deliver the sense of hopelessness. To say that outstretching things was in line with the manga's general imagery would certainly overdo it. But that being said, I strongly suspect that the vignettes are intended to be metaphorical in nature. There is no obvious social commentary or any political or philosophical messages, but for people who are into this sort of storytelling there is meaning to be discerned that goes beyond what is presented on the surface.
It's only to be expected that after the literally breathtaking first couple of chapters the suspense slightly wanes. The nightmare at the very end made for a thoroughly satisfying conclusion, though. The image of the entire village expanded into an overarching and centuries-spanning spiral was truly mesmerizing. We got a glimpse at hell when Kirie looked into her father's pottery kiln, yet to have the entire village to become the center of an everlasting torturous existence was something else.
In a genre that suffers greatly from repetition and dulling familiarity, Uzumaki's most distinguishing quality is its persistence to carry surprising ideas to their most terrifying conclusion.