I really should stick to Fate/stay night, I guess, but this quick-and-often blogging, once resurrected from hiatus, has its own momentum. Also, I read Onani Master Kurosawa in one go last night, so it probably deserves some attention beyond the usual Twitter gibberish. But what can I say that you, my tight compadres of the sphere, haven’t said better already? Truly I am always last to the sausage fest party.
The first post I read on the matter was Ghosty’s, which does the gar thing, makes some hilariously apt comparisons between tossing off and aniblogging, and moves on to this:
…Onani Master Kurosawa shifts in direction in an awesome way. Stakes got really high for the characters involved, and there is much, terrible shame, and loss. I find it personally heartwrenching and cringeworthy (See Omisyth’s reactions [1] and [2]). But as I’ve mentioned, this is a [feel] good story and the resolution is stunning. I’m a sucker for redemption stories, especially those wherein the redemption is accomplished wholly out of one’s own power. This manga had one of the more satisfying and fulfilling endings I’ve read in a while, and I could feel the respect and care felt and lavished on the characters. Many of them gave me surprising turns that just blasted me with good feeling.
I don’t know if it left me feeling “good,” per se, save in that it was pretty damn cathartic. Oh yes, this seemingly simple doujin manga about masturbating for great justice goes places I wish more commercial manga would. Cringeworthy indeed. The ending, though, is very hopeful, and we’re at least left with the sense that Kurosawa is on the right path. He’s no longer trapped behind the doors of his own teenage mind — a state that OMK does a hell of a job illustrating. Enter transientem; I didn’t become aware of this blog until looking for OMK posts, but I wish I had earlier.
As befitting the first term of the title Onani Master Kurosawa (hereafter abbreviated to OMK) lewd subject matter can be found, and is what’s on tap (literally) for about half the manga, consensus being that the turning point is around the 17th chapter, with transition being as early as chapter 8 with the library scene. It makes one wonder if the subversion of the original premise was planned from the beginning.
That subversion is, I think, one of the most lucid, tangible articulations of a one-sided relationship that I’ve ever seen.
- Of a loner latching onto someone because they mistook general sociability and respect for something more.
- Of the shell-shock from the realization of being wrong, and by being wrong having lost a wager they were unaware of making, because they couldn’t reign in their feelings.
- Of rage at the object of affection climbing down from the pedestal, yet climbing ever higher at the same time, out of reach.
- Of the hollowing of the soul and the resignation and nausea of drifting out to sea.
And this process is dealt with in gritty detail, it being one of the major plot threads of over half the manga. The uplifting parts are good, but my favorite aspect of OMK is the sheer horror that begins to grow even fairly early on, the worsening foreknowledge that something very bad will happen before the end, and the process of emotional numbness and acceptance which in my reading experience mirrored what Kurosawa goes through with frightening accuracy. OMK is a feel-good story in the same way that any tragedy manages to be; it cleanses the emotional palate, so to speak.
And, yes, I conceive of OMK as tragic, even if it takes an emotional upturn in the end. It’s allowed to after the climax. There seems to be enough catharsis going around to justify calling it a tragedy, anyway. Here’s part of a comment by Owen on that transientem post:
Reading this was horrible catharsis just like how ghostlighting felt it was, and every stab at Kurosawa’s heart was a stab at mine, reminding me of wounds I once felt.
The whole deal is amplified by Kurosawa being relatable even if you’ve never enacted revenge by blowing a load on someone’s school things. His sociopathy is the central issue, the unique masturbation habits being symptomatic thereof. And unrequited feelings…well, if you’ve experienced them, I don’t even need to tell you. In point of fact, the bulleted list above reminds me of someone I turned down once, and that’s a little unnerving to think about even if it was a long time ago.
I must admit, though, that Kurosawa wasn’t always the character to whom I could relate the most. He was getting over his problems with people at age 15. I wasn’t.
Kitahara, though.
Her hate and fear are by no means admirable, but I get it. It’s not easy to do what Kurosawa does when you’re a teenager. I have a hard enough time doing it now. But Kitahara is the sort of person I can imagine having sat with in the lunchroom, exchanging stories about why we disliked who we disliked and what sorts of things we wouldn’t mind happening to those people, and though I’ve done a bit of growing-up since high school, that may be the most unsettling thing about OMK for me. At no point did I ever have a hard time figuring out where Kitahara was coming from, as it’s a place with which I’m all too familiar.
thank you for this writeup. i read all of OMK in one go last night and was so blown away by just how good it was that i’m now spending my idle time at work looking up articles about it. This is one of the better ones i’ve read.
I really hope OMK gets more attention or becomes more mainstream. There is going to be an actual novel by the original author and perhaps that will translate into an anime or even a live action drama (hey stuff like this can actually be shown on japanese tv). Or at the very least, an english translation of the novel.
Thanks for the quote.
To elaborate a bit: OMK was personal in a way no other anime or manga had hitherto been personal for me; it’s no H&C, which, through several base premises, appeal to a wider range of emotions and thoughts–OMK is nothing like that, and it’s very crudely tailor-made in that…
…I was literally Kurosawa. Literally. Same premise, same sort of girl, same misunderstanding, same passive inaction and oblivious, self-congratulatory “She likes me!”, same shocking “Oh, guess what, we hooked up!” revelation. Thankfully I wasn’t ever that close to him, otherwise I doubt I’d have recovered with such speed (lots of Dashboard Confessional as palliative).
I know how hit-and-miss premises of the sort are, and 5cm/sec is testament to that, as we all know that the blows and pain are lessened if you haven’t been in a long-distance relationship of sorts–but there still are several layers of identification to 5cm/s, like unrequited love and moving on and all that jazz. OMK is amazing in that there’s a failsafe in Kurosawa’s character–regardless of whether or not you’ve been brutally pushed aside in favour of someone else, there’s that lingering chill to the text that comes with the genuine sensation of prolonged isolation that, I think, a lot of the ‘sphere can relate to some extent.
Which makes me wonder whether it’s unsettling, or comforting that the internet has united so many of us underneath this sobering banner of what it means to be alone, and its effects upon one’s psyche.
I don’t really understand catharsis. [->]
I can tell if an emotion is a whelmingly positive one. So yeah, it FEELS SO GOOD. One of the rather awesome parts of this fantasy (I do think it is, despite the grit) is that Kurosawa started getting shit done in his life at age 15. While I’m sure there are people who do just that, and perhaps accomplish more, I do feel that him doing this self-healing in such a forceful and compelling fashion is beyond exceptional.
I can’t say I get Kitahara. I was never filled with such hate, though I may have been as full of self-pity.
But back to Kurosawa. I too had that one-sided fantasy, as did Owen. It happened when I was younger than Kurosawa (I was 13). I was led on, by this girl on purpose to get back at this other guy who dumped her. The pain of the betrayal seems less than the humiliation after feeling that I was awesome enough of a person to be liked by this girl who used to date this legend of a dude.
OMK was deeply touching. It’s weird since I couldn’t really relate to anyone in the story. They were more… the kind of people I could have become, and was damn close to becoming. Sadly I didn’t have the character of Kurosawa (I didn’t do the things he did, either), hatred of Kitahara (I wasn’t put through the things she was, either) or cheer of Magister (but I was very like her), so I’m just plain yoghurt now ._. (it’s apaprently a manga which hits close to common experiences, going by post/comments).
However, I do know that Kurosawa ascended to Garhalla the moment he confessed what he did. Kicking mecha, riding up sheer walls standing on horses, riding on fighter jets while fighting the archetype of all heroes, none of that really compares to just admitting you did something incredibly horrible you could have gotten away with if only you had shut your trap, and then calmly take all the inevitable consequences.
So I can’t see OMK as a tragedy. Nor a comedy, in the greek sense. Nay, I see OMK as a tale of heroism. The emotion I’ll likely most of all associate with it if randomly asked, is admiration. It was grim and painful, but heroism needs pain and opposition. Even greater, then, that the only one at fault is the hero. Self-surpassing acts are always something I admire, I suppose. It is a tale of an admirable act.
Speaking quite personally, here.
@goobersnotch
Definitely check out the posts and comments I quoted from massively, if you haven’t already. The sphere has pretty much summed this one up already; I got to it late.
Oh, if only fortune favored me enough for an OMK TV series to be made. The novel’s an exciting prospect, though it’s a shame that the visual self-referentiality would be lost in that form.
@Owen
I didn’t really have anything like Kurosawa’s romantic situation at that age. There was a girl I wanted to pursue, but she was already my friend’s girlfriend at that point. Which reminds me, it is definitely a good thing that you weren’t all that close to the other guy, I have no doubt about that.
So I suppose I might’ve had a little trouble relating to Kurosawa, particularly toward the end, considering also how much he got done in terms of maturation as a teenager. But, like you said, there’s always the isolation, and I can understand that.
I’d like to say it’s comforting, but then the idea of us being together in our aloneness is itself a little unsettling. I’m curious as to whether solitude becomes a kind of trophy for some fans, if “I have an awesome otaku room” translates, in a convoluted sort of way, to “I devote more of my time to my place of solitude than you do.” At the very least, I’m sure there’s something to be said for the internet being used to alleviate solitude, even if it may not be any sort of substitute for face-to-face interaction.
@ghostlightning
I like catharsis insofar as, once it’s done its thing, you’re free to move on to happiness or whatever else without interference, at least for a little while. OMK seems to use that well; after the intense part ended, I was able to feel good about Kurosawa’s progress all the more acutely.
Yeah, yours was a pretty rough situation. I’ve never been through anything exactly like that, but I get where you’re coming from when you say the humiliation was ultimately worse than the betrayal. I dealt with that sort of thing not long before and during the long breakup with that Kasukabe ex-girlfriend, when she was interested in other guys in no uncertain or subtle way. It’s one thing to be dragged along, and quite another to have your value called into question.
@Kaiserpingvin
I don’t think it’s a tragedy in the Greek sense; it’s more in line with post-1900 tragedy, which lets the hero live every once in a while, and deals with things more socially. Kurosawa was, at one point, entirely shunned from the society of his peers, and that’s enough for me. But it does go beyond that, in a way; you may well be right, and it’s essentially a realist epic, and that, I must say, is an awesome prospect. Someone should try to read it like that. Probably IKnight.
In terms of relatability, I was actually somewhere between Kitahara and Nagaoka, probably. I didn’t hate everyone. Not quite.
I had a friend back in high school who was the spitting image of Kitahara (without the overblown, pent-up rage). I really felt for her most of the time, since when I think about it, the oppression directed at her was due to the fact that the rest of my class didn’t like her attitude, but it’s not as if she ever annoyed anyone just by existing. I just felt deja vu while reading OMK because I had a “hey, don’t I know someone like this girl–?” feeling through the whole thing. I still ship her and Kurosawa, too. :P
I felt respect for Kurosawa when he admitted the mistakes of his youth (lol). Never in my life have I seen someone do this, and I kind of wished to, since owning up to your misdeeds and becoming a better person afterward is one experience any great man shouldn’t be without.
Takigawa is just orz. Owen and I should totally have a drink about it, if circumstances could permit.
Kurosawa/Kitahara = win. I like to think it could happen in a few years, once Kitahara gets her shit together.
But lest I engage in shipping…
As much as it seems like an odd pairing to me, I thought Sugawa’s acceptance of Kurosawa (after he jacked it on her uniform) was almost as impressive as Kurosawa’s own admission of guilt. She has a good deal to atone for herself, and I almost wish we could’ve seen her interact with post-hikkikomori Kitahara before the end.
I didn’t really have friends very much like Kitahara, but she does sort of remind me of a girl a friend of mine dated. I doubt there’s much commonality there, but I always expected said girl to stab herself with a woodcarving knife.
As I recall my high-schooldays, smouldering hatred was definitely gendered: only girls behaved like Kitahara. Boys . . . I think we fought, usually, until we grew so old that we thought fighting was childish. So I found Kitahara to be, in a strange way, very girly. And Kurosawa was a rum do: seminal vengeance seemed masculine, but his highly-developed inner life seemed feminine to me, and of course he’s masturbating in the girls’ toilets while more traditionally manly men are wooing real girls. But in our first year our school’s jocks (it’s not a British sense for the word, but I think it fits) played Magic: The Gathering, so maybe it was an unusual place which left me with unusual gender models.
I imagine you know more about tragedy than I do, but I think you could point out that Greek tragedies can have happy endings, unless you’re going to be prescriptive like Aristotle and want to take an unusual and not especially popular tragedy as your defining example (trust a scientist . . .). Which brings us to the subject of genre, and the epic. I’m with Kaiserpingvin that OMK is a story of heroism, but I think the moral, introspective nature of its heroism and the insignificance of its setting prevent it from satisfying a sufficient number of the properties encoded by the pre-existing constituency of epics. (To spit out the language of family resemblance/prototype theory/cognitive linguistic understanding(s) of genre.) I’d say it doesn’t just lack epic features, but even that some of the features it does have (short length, introspection) are irreconcilable with epic writing.
However, I think to me it resembles a mock epic, at least in the first part of the story. The overblown treatment of vigilante masturbation reminds me of Pope’s treatment of card games and the theft of hair, and that famously bathetic stanza in which Byron’s narrator punctures Don Juan’s grandiose sense of infatuation by observing that ‘puberty assisted’. And mock epics are often relatively short. Perhaps we could say that Kurosawa’s connection to Light and Lelouch is like the connection between mock epic heroes and real epic heroes?
(Also, isn’t Middlemarch the classic ‘realist epic’, if there is such a thing? It’s a good example of a story of the modern, novelistic, OMK kind of heroism, as opposed to the pursuing-honour heroism of Achilles &c. It has some of the features of an epic. And it’s one of the canonical realist novels — and it even interrogates its own realism, too. Or so my lecturer said.)
Well, I have a good bit to say about modern and postmodern tragedy, but classical tragedy not so much. Same goes for the epic; that’s why I invoked your venerable name in my reply to Kaiser ;) I have to admit that I do rely on Aristotle too much sometimes, and so things he does that I may not especially agree with still find their way into my analysis as a matter of course.
I suppose I can see OMK as a mock epic, or as invoking the epic form, without itself being epic as such (I’d cry “Irony, irony!” but I’m really getting tired of using irony as a blanket descriptor of everything ever). You’re right, it does lack the length, or the comprehensiveness anyway. I just have a hard time calling it a hero story, as I can conceive of anything as a hero story, rendering that descriptor unspecific. It almost seems like a fable, complete with moral. Or perhaps I should try not to think in terms of the Western literary paradigm and classify it according to manga convention, but my knowledge of manga convention is pretty poor. I guess OMK is a mock-whatever-Death-Note-is.
You make a good point about Kurosawa’s almost feminine qualities; though I don’t think I ever saw him as feminine, I recall thinking of him as ungendered at certain points. He was, at least, more than a little emasculate.
I’m not sure about Middlemarch; my knowledge of 19th-century British lit is pitiful. One of these days I suppose I’ll have to delve into it seriously. Er, not today though.
Just as fapped.
I’m not much into pairings, but I admit going “NOOOOOOO~!!” ala Darth Vader when Takigawa X Afro happened. I mean, we were teased by a possible Takigawa X Kurosawa a few chapters prior. But I loved that I reacted that way. Takigawa is just too good for Kurosawa (like what she said in the latest novel translations by EE), and hence, I don’t mind Sugawa X Kurosawa. My only hope is that the novel would give a proper resolution between Sugawa and Kitahara.
As for Kitahara, I loved how her character when from helpless, to devious, to ballistic, to depressive and Kurosawa finally ending it right for her. Again, I’d love to see how she’ll act in the novel.
Takigawa really is too good for Kurosawa, I think, but it’s still such a shame that things play out the way they do because, to some extent, people like Kurosawa need people like Takigawa and Nagaoka. Kurosawa seems to figure that out before the end. I do like to see Kurosawa with Sugawa, though, as the two have some commonality when it comes to atoning for past mistakes and becoming better people. I think I’m more interested in what’ll happen to them as a couple than I thought I was at first, given how I’ve been checking that short story translation for updates every five minutes.
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