Voces que cuentan: Una antología

by Eva Amaral, Patricia Campos Doménech, Sandra Cardona Rodríguez, Ada Diez, Leticia Dolera, Sara Herranz, Lola García, Almudena Grandes, Agustina Guerrero, María Hesse, Diana López Varela, Estefanía Molina, Ana Oncina, Julia Otero, Akira Pantsu, Raquel Riba Rossy, Sandra Sabatés and Sara Soler Ester
cover illustration by Esther Gili
introduction by David Hernando

Contrary to what bookshops and even its own publisher, Planeta Cómic, say, this book is not a graphic novel but, well, an anthology. Mostly short stories, mostly autobiographical — but not all. Más mujer is a chapter of Morder la manzana by Leticia Dolera and Raquel Riba Rossy. Por una falda de plátanos is a collection of fragments from an essay by Almudena Grandes rather than a complete one. And Soledad is an illustrated song by Amaral. Of the complete stories, my favourite is Mzungu.

Mi experiencia lesbiana con la soledad

by Kabi Nagata

Nagata, a lonely, depressed 28-year-old girl with a bald patch (a consequence of trichotillomania) and arms covered with self-harm scars hires an escort in order to lose her virginity in a love hotel. What could possibly go wrong?

Too many things. Much to her disappointment, Nagata’s adventure turned out to be nothing like in the erotic dōjinshi (apparently, her main source of sex education). And a good thing too, otherwise I doubt that she would create, let alone publish, My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness. But now that she did, the readers around the globe can enjoy her amazing comic. (I, for example, found the Spanish version in the library.) It is funny, heart-warming and honest. I think everybody can relate to it, no matter what is their gender, sexual orientation or level of self-esteem. Nagata does not talk much about her self-harm experience and suicidal thoughts, but they are all there. Last but not least: the author treats sex workers as well as their profession with utmost respect and gratitude.

Let’s Speak English

by Mary Cagle

Mary Cagle, aka Cube, is a young American lady who, after graduating from college with a respectable “degree in drawing comics” (her own words!), spent two and a half years teaching English to elementary school students in Kurihara, Japan. Timur became a fan of her comic some time in 2016 and liked it so much that he decided to support the author’s Kickstarter Project. The physical book arrived last summer, but I only finished it last week.

In my humble opinion, US $20.00 (plus P&P) is a bit steep for a “100-page(ish) softcover”. But... without Timur’s patronage, I wouldn’t read this book at all (as I normally don’t read comics online). The paper quality is good. Most of the comic strips are in vertical yonkoma format, but, unlike the “real” manga books, this one is printed Western-style, i.e. “front-to-back” — something to change the next edition maybe? I liked Mary-sensei’s self-deprecating humour and learned a Japanese word or two. Besides, Ms Cagle’s adventures in rural Japan reminded me all too vividly of my own close encounters with young learners in rural Cantabria, and yes, winter sucks. I can’t be objective.

Guardians of the Louvre

by Jiro Taniguchi

千年の翼、百年の夢, literally “A thousand-year wings, a hundred-year dream”, known in the West as Guardians of the Louvre, was the last manga series created by Jiro Taniguchi (1947—2017). Last year, it appeared in the Comic-Con’s panel of The Best and Worst Manga of 2016 on the list of “Worst Manga for Anyone, Any Age”. Naturally, I was intrigued. Why did they hated it so much? I’m sure that evern the worst manga by Taniguchi cannot qualify for this ambitious title.

In fact, I quite liked it. I prefer Taniguchi’s line drawing but in this case the use of colour is totally justified. Guardians of the Louvre may be not as moving as A Zoo in Winter or A Distant Neighborhood but the drawing is exquisite and I learned a thing or two about that famous museum where I’ve never been.

The English-language version still has to be read back to front, right to left and then up to down.

A Distant Neighborhood

by Jiro Taniguchi

So. Travelling in time. Ah, to be fourteen-year old again. To find yourself in your family home, with your mum and dad and little sister and granny. To go to your old high school, seeing old friends, allowing yourself this time to fall in love with a beautiful classmate. Leaving behind, that is, far in the future, your wife and children. Wondering if they are worrying about you, whether you’ll ever see them or, indeed, whether you’ll ever have a wife and children.

Hiroshi tries to change his present by changing his past, and also doing his best not to change it. Naturally, you can’t do both things at the same time. You would need at least two time trips, and we all know how easy it is to hitch just one. More interesting dilemmas, apparently not involving any time travel, concern Hiroshi’s father. What happens if you live someone else’s life? It’s difficult to live, difficult — but not impossible — to escape.

Un zoo en invierno

by Jiro Taniguchi

This is a manga about an 18-old boy who in 1967 moves to Tokyo to become... an assistant to a manga artist. How exciting is that?

In fact, it is quite engaging. Young Hamaguchi tries alcohol (and has a hangover), draws a nude model, and creates his own manga — all for the first time in his life. Oh, and he also falls in love. It may be not terribly deep but funny, sincere and touching. The last chapter of A Zoo in Winter does not imply a happy ending but leaves you to hope for one.