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Wandering Son manga and essay
Wandering Son is a manga by Shimura Takako, a moving and slightly bittersweet story about two grade-school age transgender kids: Shuichi, who wants to be a girl, and his classmate Yoshino, who wants to be a boy. It's a great title that I highly recommend, and the second volume (US edition) contains an essay called "Transgendered in Japan" by translator Matt Thorn. Fanfic writers who want to portray a more realistic view of gay and transgendered people in Japan, or just readers who want to learn more about Japanese culture will find it very interesting and informative.
In the manga, Shuichi and Yoshino discover each other's secret and become friends and confidants, and eventually work up the courage to go out on secret excursions cross-dressed, where they can be themselves and strangers assume that Shuichi really is a girl and Yoshino really is a boy. There are sweet and funny moments, but at the same time, as a reader, I feel an air of foreboding hanging over the story, knowing the potential consequences and heartbreak they will face if and when they are outed. They both have loving parents, but will the parents really be able to accept them when they learn the truth? And we know how cruel kids can be to classmates who don't fit in--some of the boys in Shuichi's class have already started to bully and tease him for not being masculine enough. As for Yoshino, Shuichi says at one point that it's easier for her because it's okay for girls to wear shorts or trousers, and she can get away with being a tomboy, but boys can't wear dresses or skirts (at least, not without people thinking they're weird). However, it's not easy for Yoshino, either--when she gets her period for the first time, it feels like her body is betraying her with an inescapable reminder of the fact that she is a girl, and she's filled with anger and horror and frustration. I just really feel for both these kids, and found myself wishing that I could protect them from all the prejudice and heartbreak that they'll encounter as they get older--which I suppose is a testament to the author's skill, that she's made me care about them so deeply.
At the same time, it's not all doom and gloom. There are definitely angsty moments, but the overall feel of the story is relatively lighthearted without being dismissive of the serious subject matter. There are comical scenes to balance out the angst, and there's joy and comfort in Shuichi and Yoshino's friendship, knowing that they have someone who understands them. And although their future will no doubt be difficult, they do have a few friends who know the truth and support them, including a transgendered woman named Yuki whom they meet on one of their excursions, who befriends them and provides a kind of role model for them.
The artwork is a little spare--the character designs are very simple (and yet expressive, imho), and there isn't much background detail in most of the panels, something that other reviewers have criticized. But I don't know...there could be more detail, but the simple style seems to suit the story, and I'd rather have blank backgrounds than have them cluttered up with too much screentone. However, art style aside, all the reviews I've read have agreed that the story and characters are excellent.
Fantagraphics has published it in the US as a deluxe hardcover edition, so it's a little pricey (list price is $19.99), but the quality of the book is excellent and well worth the price. I haven't read the original Japanese version, but translator Matt Thorn is well-respected in the field, and he seems to have put a lot of thought and care into the translation and has kept the Japanese honorifics in order to preserve the complexities of the relationships between the characters (and how those relationships can change over time). If price is an issue, Fantagraphics is offering a 20% discount if you pre-order Books 4-6 together. Or you can probably buy them individually discounted through Amazon or Barnes and Noble (if you're a B&N member).
As for the essay, Thorn talks about the misconceptions that Westerners tend to have about LGBT people in Japan that tend to fall into two extremes: (1) "that LGBT persons must be horribly oppressed in Japan" due to "a view of Japan as a place where homogeneity is seen as paramount, and deviation from the norm is not tolerated," or (2) Japan is an LGBT paradise based on "the lack of a monotheistic view of homosexuality and transgender as a sin" and on various genderbending traditions in Kabuki theater (men playing female roles) and the Takarazuka all-female theater troupe, and "all those gender-bending manga, particularly those created by women." (Including BL and yaoi manga, I assume, and there are some yaoi fangirls who seem to have gotten that "gay paradise" misconception.)
Thorn goes on to say, "Both of these views are, in part, correct. And both are dead wrong." He does agree that homosexuality is not seen as a religious sin in Japan (though some might view it as "perverted" or "unhealthy"): "Even the most conservative Japanese would have a hard time wrapping his head around the notion that any god should give a damn about what consenting adults do behind closed doors."
Addressing the issue of deviating from the norm, he says:
He does go on to say that recently, some LGBT celebrities have "begun to challenge the comfortable, conventional view of the okama as clown." This includes transgendered comedian Matsuko Deluxe, who criticized Tokyo Governor Ishihara Shintaroh for homophobic remarks, and model HiROMi, who is out as a lesbian and writes about LGBT tissues on her blog. The "professional okama" that Thorn refers to probably includes entertainers such as singer Mikawa Kenichi, who dresses in glittery feminine costumes and seems to play up the okama personality to comic effect on the Japanese game shows I've seen him on.
As a fan and writer in the Haru wo Daiteita fandom, I found the discussion of the Japanese entertainment world to be especially interesting. While it's highly unrealistic that Katou and Iwaki would become such popular TV and movie stars (not fitting into the "okama" mold), it's maybe not completely impossible, given that entertainers are allowed lifestyles not acceptable to the general public--it's still a stretch, but Nitta-sensei writes it well enough that I can suspend belief, and the problems they face with their families and their very public relationship feel real, not like the "gay paradise" yaoi trope. And the idea of Kikuchi being driven out of the country because of the gay scandal, while Iwaki and Katou find acceptance ten years later perhaps reflects attitudes that are slowly changing. I can see some fans being able to admire Katou and Iwaki, because as movie stars they're somewhat removed from ordinary everyday life, but still being upset if they found out that their own child (or friend or sibling) was gay or transgendered.
(And that would make an awesome plot bunny--a young fan being inspired to come out because of Iwaki and Katou's example, and his or her parents blaming the famous couple! Actually, I listed that as one of my Yuletide request prompts--but no pressure if you happen to be reading this, Yuletide Writer. I'd be just as delighted with Iwaki/Katou romance or ensemble friendship fic or anything else you come up with in the Haru 'verse!)
Anyway, the essay provided a lot of food for thought, and it's highly recommended reading, along with the manga.
ETA: The blockquote function in LJ seems to have automatically italicized the text, which renders invisible the italics that I did put in for emphasis. I can't figure out how to fix it, but it shows up okay on the IJ cross-post.
In the manga, Shuichi and Yoshino discover each other's secret and become friends and confidants, and eventually work up the courage to go out on secret excursions cross-dressed, where they can be themselves and strangers assume that Shuichi really is a girl and Yoshino really is a boy. There are sweet and funny moments, but at the same time, as a reader, I feel an air of foreboding hanging over the story, knowing the potential consequences and heartbreak they will face if and when they are outed. They both have loving parents, but will the parents really be able to accept them when they learn the truth? And we know how cruel kids can be to classmates who don't fit in--some of the boys in Shuichi's class have already started to bully and tease him for not being masculine enough. As for Yoshino, Shuichi says at one point that it's easier for her because it's okay for girls to wear shorts or trousers, and she can get away with being a tomboy, but boys can't wear dresses or skirts (at least, not without people thinking they're weird). However, it's not easy for Yoshino, either--when she gets her period for the first time, it feels like her body is betraying her with an inescapable reminder of the fact that she is a girl, and she's filled with anger and horror and frustration. I just really feel for both these kids, and found myself wishing that I could protect them from all the prejudice and heartbreak that they'll encounter as they get older--which I suppose is a testament to the author's skill, that she's made me care about them so deeply.
At the same time, it's not all doom and gloom. There are definitely angsty moments, but the overall feel of the story is relatively lighthearted without being dismissive of the serious subject matter. There are comical scenes to balance out the angst, and there's joy and comfort in Shuichi and Yoshino's friendship, knowing that they have someone who understands them. And although their future will no doubt be difficult, they do have a few friends who know the truth and support them, including a transgendered woman named Yuki whom they meet on one of their excursions, who befriends them and provides a kind of role model for them.
The artwork is a little spare--the character designs are very simple (and yet expressive, imho), and there isn't much background detail in most of the panels, something that other reviewers have criticized. But I don't know...there could be more detail, but the simple style seems to suit the story, and I'd rather have blank backgrounds than have them cluttered up with too much screentone. However, art style aside, all the reviews I've read have agreed that the story and characters are excellent.
Fantagraphics has published it in the US as a deluxe hardcover edition, so it's a little pricey (list price is $19.99), but the quality of the book is excellent and well worth the price. I haven't read the original Japanese version, but translator Matt Thorn is well-respected in the field, and he seems to have put a lot of thought and care into the translation and has kept the Japanese honorifics in order to preserve the complexities of the relationships between the characters (and how those relationships can change over time). If price is an issue, Fantagraphics is offering a 20% discount if you pre-order Books 4-6 together. Or you can probably buy them individually discounted through Amazon or Barnes and Noble (if you're a B&N member).
As for the essay, Thorn talks about the misconceptions that Westerners tend to have about LGBT people in Japan that tend to fall into two extremes: (1) "that LGBT persons must be horribly oppressed in Japan" due to "a view of Japan as a place where homogeneity is seen as paramount, and deviation from the norm is not tolerated," or (2) Japan is an LGBT paradise based on "the lack of a monotheistic view of homosexuality and transgender as a sin" and on various genderbending traditions in Kabuki theater (men playing female roles) and the Takarazuka all-female theater troupe, and "all those gender-bending manga, particularly those created by women." (Including BL and yaoi manga, I assume, and there are some yaoi fangirls who seem to have gotten that "gay paradise" misconception.)
Thorn goes on to say, "Both of these views are, in part, correct. And both are dead wrong." He does agree that homosexuality is not seen as a religious sin in Japan (though some might view it as "perverted" or "unhealthy"): "Even the most conservative Japanese would have a hard time wrapping his head around the notion that any god should give a damn about what consenting adults do behind closed doors."
Addressing the issue of deviating from the norm, he says:
But it is also true that in Japan, perhaps more so than in other developed nations, deviation from the norm generates social friction. The closer that deviation is to home (say, under one's own roof), the more intense that friction is likely to be. It's all right for a stranger--someone "out there"--to be a "queen," but not my son. Not my daughter. Not my grandchild or sibling. Not my friend.
This is perhaps the crucial difference between Western homophobia and Japanese homophobia. For Western homophobes, the mere existence of LGBT persons, anywhere, is upsetting. As a rule, their existence cannot be accepted. For Japanese homophobes, "homos" and "queens" are fine on television, fine as entertainers to be laughed at. They are fine as long as they remain out there. But not in here. Not under my roof. Not in my head.
The parent of the transgendered child worries about how their child's nature might reflect on the parent socially, but also worries for the child's happiness. Homosexuality or transgender is seen, perhaps unconsciously, as a career choice. The okama (Japanese derogatory slang for gay or transgendered men) they know of and see on TV are professional okama. They are not gay pharmacists. They aren't transgendered bank clerks. They are simply okama--colorful buffoons to be laughed at on the television, or in manga. To be LGBT, in the common Japanese view, is to cut off all possibility of a normal life.
He does go on to say that recently, some LGBT celebrities have "begun to challenge the comfortable, conventional view of the okama as clown." This includes transgendered comedian Matsuko Deluxe, who criticized Tokyo Governor Ishihara Shintaroh for homophobic remarks, and model HiROMi, who is out as a lesbian and writes about LGBT tissues on her blog. The "professional okama" that Thorn refers to probably includes entertainers such as singer Mikawa Kenichi, who dresses in glittery feminine costumes and seems to play up the okama personality to comic effect on the Japanese game shows I've seen him on.
As a fan and writer in the Haru wo Daiteita fandom, I found the discussion of the Japanese entertainment world to be especially interesting. While it's highly unrealistic that Katou and Iwaki would become such popular TV and movie stars (not fitting into the "okama" mold), it's maybe not completely impossible, given that entertainers are allowed lifestyles not acceptable to the general public--it's still a stretch, but Nitta-sensei writes it well enough that I can suspend belief, and the problems they face with their families and their very public relationship feel real, not like the "gay paradise" yaoi trope. And the idea of Kikuchi being driven out of the country because of the gay scandal, while Iwaki and Katou find acceptance ten years later perhaps reflects attitudes that are slowly changing. I can see some fans being able to admire Katou and Iwaki, because as movie stars they're somewhat removed from ordinary everyday life, but still being upset if they found out that their own child (or friend or sibling) was gay or transgendered.
(And that would make an awesome plot bunny--a young fan being inspired to come out because of Iwaki and Katou's example, and his or her parents blaming the famous couple! Actually, I listed that as one of my Yuletide request prompts--but no pressure if you happen to be reading this, Yuletide Writer. I'd be just as delighted with Iwaki/Katou romance or ensemble friendship fic or anything else you come up with in the Haru 'verse!)
Anyway, the essay provided a lot of food for thought, and it's highly recommended reading, along with the manga.
ETA: The blockquote function in LJ seems to have automatically italicized the text, which renders invisible the italics that I did put in for emphasis. I can't figure out how to fix it, but it shows up okay on the IJ cross-post.