SoreMachi: And Yet the Town Moves

There's something really special about Soremachi as a manga that really gets me. A manga from the talented Masakazu Ishiguro, it has gone pretty much unnoticed among the Western community but has gotten critically great reception and awards from Japan, winning the Excellence award for the Japanese Media Arts Festival in 2015 and amazingly, the best scifi manga in the Seiun Awards. People say slice of life as a series can get boring over time but Soremachi has proved that wrong time and time again. In Soremachi, you follow the charismatic and bumbling but lovable fool of a character in Hotori Arashiyama - a highschool student working in a maid cafe for 3 years of her high school life. That's it. Yet, the story of Hotori's life throughout these 3 years is so well-done, seamlessly weaving through her life - interacting with the many characters, solving various mysteries and dramas, and just living her life her own way. What really stands out is the growth of Hotori in these 3 years, you can truly feel that she has evolved as a person the more you read the manga and by the end, I couldn't help having tears in my eyes like a proud father watching her daughter grow up. What Soremachi does right, among many things is quite simply knowing how to nail slice of life in the best way. The series is full of life with many diverse characters from all walks of life in the small bustling town of Maruko Shopping District. And they aren't cookie-cutter characters either, but characters that have their own story, personalities, quirks and charm to them with great interactions with the main cast. They have their own families, brothers and sisters as well as parents which do not magically disappear like most manga do. It feels so goddamn organic and that's why they feel so real as well as the town itself and the moment I flipped the last page, I already have missed the characters like they were my very own family. The many stories in this series really appeal to me. They never come off as generic but instead feels natural with every chapter building up to a certain event in a future chapter and there's this feeling of continuity that is oh so satisfying. Some chapters can be real emotional and some can be super funny. This mix really shows the many colours of life one can go through and it never gets old. The comedy in this series as well is top notch. It stands out simply because it is so different (and much better) from the many romcoms and SOL type of comedy out there. There are no cheap and overused gags with random references but very smart comedy with a lot of buildup which gets so satisfying when you reach the punchline. I adore this kind of comedy, smart and interesting. Lastly, this series has this amazing blend of what is already amazing SOL elements with surrealistic and sci-fi elements as well. It's a masterpiece in a sense that it never feels out of place when something out of the ordinary happens and that I felt that it actually suits the town in a way. It's hard to describe but it really does feel special and I always smile reading these chapters and how genius it turns out to be. I urge everyone to try giving this a read and def stick with it for a few volumes or more for this manga as the introduction of the characters happen early on. Once I started getting into more chapters, this is when Soremachi really started being a masterpiece. You know it's a great manga when it all ends and that emptiness starts filling your heart as you leave the town of Soremachi behind - and yet the town moves.

Like standing next to a hot oven after coming in from a cold, damp day, SoreMachi: And Yet The Town Moves is soothing wonder. It's a timeless must-read manga that deserves far better than it has gotten in the west. While many slice of life manga fixate themselves on the daily routine of ordinary people, SoreMachi concerns itself with the extraordinary—and maintains an obsession not just with relationships, but with the invisible glue that binds together the balance of human interaction. SoreMachi features an ensemble cast, that gradually unfurls itself as the chapters go by. Friends, townsfolk, teachers—not to mention a dash of the supernatural—fill the world,beautifully realized by the talented Masakazu Ishiguro ("Heavenly Delusion"). At the center of its ambitious cast is the lovable Hotori Arashiyama, who is clutzy and airheaded—but never stupid—and movingly ambitious. Impressively, both in design and personality, every character is amazingly distinct. Ishiguro draws round faces with big expressions, bigger mouths and even bigger hearts. Love triangles form, friendships falter, and the town changes at the whim of its residents. Seeping through the lines of the comic cell borders is an occasional air of mystery and unknown. One chapter involves a ray-gun from an alien civilization; another tackles the the misadventures of a character's pursuit of a mystery sweet left behind by a time traveler from the future. Ishiguro portrays these themes with a dreamlike quality that challenges the reality and canon of the world he creates. It's left ambiguous whether such events really occurred, and the lines between truth and fiction within its word are frequently left blurry. Perhaps it's all just in Hotori's head? Or perhaps that's what *they* want you to think... Time is both the least and most important element of SoreMachi. While there is a canonical timeline of events, the manga is presented achronologically. Chapters flow continuously into the next at times, while others cut back and forth across the story. In one chapter, Hotori has a haircut go wrong, leading to her cutting her hair short; a moment whose butterfly effect ripples through the space-time (by which, I mean, paper) of the rest of the manga. The progression in SoreMachi, then, doesn't necessarily materialize within the characters so much as it does in the understanding the reader has *of* the characters and the relations between them. Is Hotori a better person at the end of everything? Sure. Does Kon open up as the manga progresses? Absolutely. But the true genius here is the way in which it compels the reader to understand and appreciate different people, their perspectives, what makes them tick, their mannerisms and worldviews. In a polarizing age where hate dominates so much of human discourse, this resonated with me in a profound way. This ties into Ishiguro's remarks in the afterword of the first volume. In it, he talks about how through his work he aimed to write a "textbook on communication," with the manga is largely based on his own experiences moving to a new part of Tokyo. After just ten chapters, SoreMachi earns the right to call itself a textbook, but perhaps more fascinatingly stays consistently relevant a hundred chapters later—which is over ten years in publishing time. Being released over the epoch (2005-2016) of society's digital upheaval, I found myself in awe at how I never felt it dated like so many of its contemporaries. I feel like this is a work you could read at any age and get something different out of it. In this regard, it's less of a textbook and more of a bible. SoreMachi ends just as thoughtfully as it begins. It leaves you little empty. It makes you smile a little. It makes you cry a little. It's not overly conclusive, necessarily dramatic, or overwhelmingly loud even. But it's there, and those last few pages will live with me for a long time. In summary: Rarely a page was turned without me having to correct the smile that had formed between each of my ears to ward off strange looks from others in public. In a way, I think that element of wariness about people judging me for a smile sort of represents this manga perfectly; it's confusing underappreciation in the west could be attributed to poor luck with licensors, but ultimately I think it's case of people rolling their eyes. Whether just a hundred or a billion people have read SoreMachi, though, doesn't ultimately matter; the manga is brilliant all the same. It's a cult classic, just without the cult. Even so, the town moves—and I hope the passage of time treats these words as kindly as it has to Ishiguro's quiet masterpiece. Maid-o.

It's no less than amazing. I've already written a review for the anime adaptation of this work, so I'll keep it short. While I do admit that Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru's anime adaptation is better than the manga, it's still one of the funniest mangas I have read. The artstyle is just perfect. I really like all the facial expressions, movements, and paneling that this manga has, and it really elevates it. I really can't read ugly looking manga, and a lot of comedy/4 Komas tend to be lacking in detail (D-Frag) and just end up looking like a rough draft. This manga has such aclean, nice artstyle to it that can't be replicated. Like I said before, the simple facial expressions just make the manga that much better. There's not too much clutter, but there's a good sense of detail. As for the characters, they're also good. They manage to integrate a lot of characters into the story, and all of them have distinct personalities and as a result, when you see chapters involving different characters, it's like a different story. While the main character is clearly Hotori, there's a lot of variety when it comes to chapters since there's always a difference mix of people that are involved in wacky scenarios. While it is a comedy novel, by involving characters in different settings and interactions, you really get to naturally know their personalities as the story progresses. No character is limited to their initial personality/archetype, and they all get expanded as chapters including them increase. Kon's my favorite character, but there are just a good variety of characters that you won't get bored for the entire 16 volume run. Another reason why this manga is so fresh is the setting. It takes place in a simple town, so the manga involves the entire town. You're not limited to a classroom, or Hotori's home, but rather, you're able to take a look at characters doing things at various places in the mundane town. Plus, the contents of each chapter is so different. Sometimes, it's about romance. Sometimes, it's slice of life. Sometimes, it's supernatural. And there's always a lot of comedy sprinkled into each chapter, regardless of it's theme, genre, or characters. It's such a lively town, it reminds me of Gintama, but honestly, Gintama focuses more on characters, while Soredemo Machi wa Mawatteiru focuses on the completeness of a single town. It's really cool and unique in how many different and varied chapters there are that just involve the same cast of characters and same town. I suck at reviewing comedy series in general, but basically: it's really good.

Soremachi is a manga I find myself coming back to every few years. Why? It's a comedic slice of life told in non-linear format, jumping all over Hotori's 3-year high school timeline, but that doesn't sound particularly interesting. However upon each re-read, I am drawn in by the richness of the world that is Soremachi, and hypnotized by the unique storytelling. I would say the manga hits the ground running, but the episodic plots never get exciting enough to be called fast-paced. Instead, what I mean is that due to the non-linear structure, Ishiguro wastes no time with introductions and starts as if we alreadyhave several volumes worth of familiarity with the characters. In lieu of standard introductions, we jump immediately to their character-defining episode. Instead of waiting for another opportunity to return and develop a side character further, we skip the predictable formalities and right to the funny -and believable- tomfoolery they engage in with Hotori. Although this feels like cheating, it works, in no small part thanks to the copious omake in between chapters, adding humorous context, continuity to character personalities, giving closure, and greasing the clutch as gears are shifted. Ishiguro goes above and beyond with the extras, adding classroom roster lists, made up alien language substitution ciphers, character trivia and notes, effortlessly immersing readers with lore and revealing how much of Soremachi was pre-developed from the start. Much like Hotori's persona, Soremachi is so charming and charismatic that it eases in right next to you without you realizing. Coupled with the non-linear episodes, reading it is like getting cozy while listening to a family friend regale you with stories from their childhood. In this day and age, a comparison could almost be made with para-social relations with streamer friend groups. The stories are frankly, forgettable, but they are associated with warm feelings and this demerit becomes a merit for re-reads. Hotori's appetite for mystery provides ample opportunity for episodes to be told, excuses the supernatural, spooky events, and also ties together running plot lines spanning the first to the last volume. It's a great fit all around, and sets the bar for how ambitious the story is to be. The overarching "concern," if we can call it that, of Soremachi is how Hotori will turn out, being a klutz who worries everyone around her. However, due to the described structure, it's not a coming-of-age story. Instead, what we get is a medley of situations when Hotori is the fool, when she is competent and mature, and a majority of when she's in between the two. It's not clear how she changes- she just gradually reduces the number of really dumb mistakes she makes, like chopping up a gifted $1000 fountain pen because she wanted to attach a magnifying glass to a pen. This approach makes resolution a bit boring, but the upside to this is that Soremachi doesn't overstay its welcome and can afford to dedicate the entire last volume, 16, as an epilogue for all its secondary characters, something exceedingly rare. As mentioned, Soremachi's pacing is deliberate and reassuringly consistent, so even the epilogues feel natural, everyday, and merely good notes to end on. Overall the manga's value proposition offers moderate highs and virtually no lows, and so if this kind of story is up your alley, then you get to enjoy a singularly smooth ride beginning to end.