Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou

"This gentle calm and quiet is the twilight of an era. I will probably watch the passing of this twilight age." Content: The stories featured in YKK are mostly light and melancholy. Readers who are used to action, sex, fanservice, violence, and/or intense drama would either be A) disappointed, or B) surprised that stories without the said elements could possibly exist and still be enjoyable. YKK is characterized by mono no aware, a Japanese concept that describes beauty as an awareness of the transience of all things, and a gentle sadness at their passing. Entertaining old customers in a coffee shop, riding through desolate roads on a scooter, reminiscingwhile watching the sun set; none of these are close to being earth-shattering and yet the author somehow presents ordinary scenes in such a way that they evoke overwhelming feelings of nostalgia. Being reminded that today will be tomorrow’s yesterday, one cannot help but appreciate the present for its fleeting existence. Literary Style: Ashinano’s style of writing is radically different from that of other mangaka. Rather than using the typical cliches and standards of comics and animation, the author’s style is more similar to those used by writers of literary novels and short stories. Using motifs and details to imply themes, skillfully combining images of everyday life with colloquial monologues and dialogues to produce visual and verbal poetry, it is obvious that, while YKK is appropriate for readers of all ages, it requires a mature and understanding reader to fully appreciate this work of art. In fact, his method of implying themes through details might remind some of J. D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye. The characters, the plot, and the details don’t just represent themselves as components of a work of fiction, they reflect the reality of everyday living. The characters act naturally and events unfold as they would in real life: without fanfare. This makes it easier for the readers to relate with the characters and believe in them. As the characters develop, the reader may also find their revelations relevant to his/her own life. In a sense, Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou may in fact be one of the few titles which are actually worthy of being called “graphic novels”. Visuals: Ashinano’s character designs are simple yet charming. The faces of the characters are very expressive, effectively bringing out the characters’ moods and personalities. As one goes through the volumes, it’s also quite interesting to see how Ashinano’s style had improved through the years (the series ran for 12 years, after all). What really makes his art stand out, however, is his awesome ability illustrate the setting in fine detail. Gusts of wind sweep across vast fields of grass, the lights of a submerged city continue to glow beneath the ocean waves, roads and towns once bustling with life now stand derelict and abandoned; the scenes often invoke feelings of nostalgia as if the writer and the readers had been there themselves. Later on in the series, Ashinano starts using more and more of these images to enforce or sometimes even replace the dialogue to deliver his message to the audience. Overall: Well, it looks like it’s all downhill from this point on for anime/manga because I don’t think I’ll ever find anything close to being as good as this series. Sure, I’ll probably stumble over a few other well-written stories out there, but I really doubt it if they would be as emotional and as thought provoking as Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou.

As the sea assaults continents, slowly but surely, humanity is declining. Telecommunication is no more. Government gave way to local organisation. Quietly witnessing this apocalypse unfold, humans are living peacefully. Among the many ways fiction depicts apocalypse, "peacefully" is uncommon. We like to think of the world ending in brutal, dramatic and lightning fast ways. Of humans against their fate struggling. But the end of the world in this manga is gradual, slow enough to give mankind the time to accept his fate, sit back, and enjoy the last hour of his age. Whatever will be will be – the die is long cast. So unfolds thetwilight of a transient humanity. And our little humans get many occasions to experience the transience of things – the transience of the world and that of themselves. Time and again, the beautiful melancholy of the dying world touches and overwhelms. The story unfolds at roughly the same pace as its monthly publication; we follow the characters as time passes, and as the curtain falls on the remnants of the world. The sea rises, and the landscapes that were dear to us disappear like smoke in the air. The machines that once served mankind meet their end too: aeroplanes, or engines, are for their last time used. Characters pass away during the series, but death is a fact of life that the living have accepted. As such, death is merely implied, and mourning but hinted at. Such is, among other understated occurrences of drama, what makes Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou a wonderful experience: the lament of its dying world, quiet yet staggering. I think YKK is a story about a people that lost so much that it stopped taking anything for granted and started cherishing the things it has left. And, with its masterful art, atmosphere, and writing, it makes you cherish them too. It makes you cherish life, the characters' things, your own things. Here's a quote from the manga to illustrate my argument: "There isn't as much difference between the seasons as there used to be; however, I think we take greater pleasure in those differences." One common translation of "mono no aware", the manga's driving force, is "sensitivity to things". More precisely, the contemplation of things' impermanence and how it amplifies their beauty. But YKK isn't only about treasuring what the characters have. It's about losing some of it, too. The characters' everyday life slowly changes, falters and disappears as the slow apocalypse has its way with humanity. And it's okay. The characters already accepted it, because "acknowledgement of the transience of things makes them more beautiful". Because of this peculiar way YKK handles tragedy, the dramatic parts (as well as the blissful ones) are extremely understated. And it makes them all the more powerful – even if it means that more attention and sensitivity is demanded from the reader. Moments such as two characters' reunion after a long journey convey strong feelings like melancholy, surprise, and happiness. These moments are often handled without words, using panelling, faces and body language to convey feelings. In the saddest moments of the series, very little of Alpha's thoughts is given, trusting the readers to know our main character well enough to empathise with her sorrow, and form their own reaction to the happenings, finding their place in Alpha's journey. The art is exceptional. Inanimate scenes are like poetry in motion. Alpha loses herself in many sumptuous landscapes, inviting the reader to follow suit. From the still functional lights of a submerged city to the view of Mount Fuji in the distance, mundane situations are made extraordinary and extraordinary ones are made otherworldly. Up the author's sleeve are countless tricks to heighten this experience; one such trick is the sparse, but wise use of colour. For example, one chapter shows Alpha enjoying a nostalgic view, and as day turns into dusk the varying colours make obvious – and beautiful – that a large amount of time passes throughout the panels. As the characters grow, their design changes. By contrast, Alpha is an android and she doesn't change – the regular realisation that time passed before her knowing is never short of melancholy. Although stylised in design, human characters are clearly of Asian heritage. The inhabitants have black hair and share many features. The androids, thereby, stand out; their outlandish looks become a central part of their characterisation. Often replacing thoughts and speech, the characters' faces are expressive (save for Ojisan's sometimes all too subtle expression changes); anatomy is rendered in a detailed enough style to permit realistic and convincing body language. Over the years, Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou has enjoyed a small, but very enthusiastic fanbase which I am proud to be part of. It ranks among the most gratifying and memorable stories. For a great number of reasons of which a single review couldn't make a comprehensive list, I enjoyed this manga tremendously and I sincerely believe that you will. As the sea assaults continents, as governments and telecommunications die out, humanity is declining. Before Alpha's eyes, the world, which once seemed tireless, slowly calmed down...

"The festival like world, had slowly settled to a leisurely pace. To think that an era... came to its twilight so pleasantly. I think i will continue... watching this twilight world...as long as time flows". Nothing remains motionless; all - whether quickly or quietly - moving, mutating, turning, hesitating between being and non-being. The world is conceived as a single stream, eternal emergence and disappearance: some things go away, others come; some blossom, others wither and dry up; some become stronger, others weaken; The wet dries, the dry moistens; some things are created, formed, others are destroyed. Formed with time again transformed. Everything gradually passes from onestate to another. Appearance and disappearance, life and death, birth and death - being and non-being constantly pass into each other. Change, origin, disappearance is an endless process of transition from non-existence to being and vice versa: something that does not exists - begins to exist or disappears what it was. Everywhere birth and everywhere death. So, Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou - popular manga in Japan and abroad, written by Hitoshi Ashinano. Format: Manga written in a laconic style that allows you to take it to the works of literature. In some chapters completely absent dialogues, and the feelings and the atmosphere transmitted only by graphically. And this is one of the basic qualities and features of manga. Melancholically and succinctly, this original style quickly hypnotizes the reader, plunging it into this amazing world. Story: The story takes place in the distant future after an unknown disaster. The main character - woman-robot Alpha, which looks exactly like a human. She lives in a small cafe, in which waiting for the "host". Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou - is several interconnected stories that describe the world of Alpha. Humanity has reached unprecedented heights in the science and technology, but the cutting-edge of the city is gradually overgrown with grass and go under water. Motorways are filled with sand and crumbling. Sunset of humanity... The author very skillfully portrays the charm in sad things, through the protagonist, It shows something that people usually do not pay attention. Alpha is a kind of a window for readers in this "era of twilights". Characters: So, story telling on behalf of Alpha, throughout his life, she meets other characters who, in turn, give her a new look at the world. The main thing is pay attention is how well the characters interact with each other, that is, they paid a lot of attention, such as Takahiro and Matsuki does grow up before our eyes. I can not call no one manga, where the characters revealed so well. This difficult to convey in words, how brilliant this idea, author shows the Alpha, as an immortal robot, thus creates a perfect environment for the disclosure of the other characters. Alpha - never gets old, but the surrounding people are gradually changing, this is the whole essence of the drama and melancholy, Alpha (and the reader) will see how things will change, all begins to fade, earlier civilized and noisy life. Art and style: Art is made at a very high level, although it may have drawbacks, namely in faces characters, but environment shown is very beautiful. From the first chapter of the manga, the first thing you notice - this is the beauty of the environment, some episodes are striking rendering quality and landscapes force to admire them for hours. Sometimes, even the simplest landscapes beckon his post-apocalyptic style, it is causing a lot of interest to details. As for style, it stands out separately. YKK has its own invented by author the art style. Here we see the old technology, radio, gas stations, fields, all this gives tranquility and relaxation while reading. Soothing, unhurried, sometimes bitter pace of storytelling give set of different emotions in the soul. Style largely corresponds to the relaxed atmosphere. Certainly this is one of those things by which this work can be considered a true masterpiece. Overall: The conclusion to this series is very subtle moment, since it is not easy to mention all great aspects of such a large work (manga was published 12 years). In summary, YKK does not belong to any genre to which it refers, but ideally show their best advantages. I think that is hardly possible to find such a deep and thoughtful stories related in one, except in Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou. ------------------------------- Look around you ... feel all this life that around you. Think about the change of seasons and look again at the sky filled with ever-changing clouds. Understand that all exists independently from you and not for you, but with you. Try to least once in life, believe in what you have lived and will live forever - as part of this ever-evolving world. Should we be afraid of death, if the world will not end out with you? The joy of existence - is not the main goal in life? A method and measure, you choose for yourself...

It is a brilliant stroke to tell a story about transience through immortal cyborgs. Maybe many Westerners would even find that counterintuitive, because transience--more specifically, mono no aware, the nuances of which I will not belabor here, but if you are not familiar, look it up, it's a treat--is a particularly Japanese literary theme, and most Western works focus only on the rapid change the future brings. But there is a constant in that, change and transience, and though we have the saying "the only constant in life is change", I don't think Americans have come to understand that paradox fully. It's given token observancein some speculative fiction, usually in passing dialogue, but nowhere in Western media have I seen the constant side of transience explored with a fraction of the depth given in YokoKai. This is a world where few things are explained. In that way, it reminds me of Haibane Renmei. Mysteries are left open, and the characters come to open-ended conclusions about everything. There is no closure, and no loose ends are tied together. In this sense, YokoKai defies a cardinal rule of Western storytelling. And yet, it works beautifully. The mystery lends to the gorgeous atmosphere, and the gentle sense of wonder. The artwork is stunning, simple yet powerful pen-hatching. This is a story about humanity, though sparse and pervaded by nature. An unelaborated ecological disaster has cleaved the human population, sea levels rise and carve out new landscapes. Life is simpler in this story, slow. This is, as Alpha says, the twilight of human existence. Humans will pass from this world, and the world will continue on without it. Yet, the world has been changed by the presence of humans, aside from the disaster--plants resemble human technology, and humans have left behind robots, sentient beings who will survive beyond the twilight. There is a gentle optimism in this, a strange constant in a story pervaded by mono no aware, an awareness of transience. But this is transience backed by the constant of nature, and of evolution. It is sentience that is sacred. Robots are treated no differently from humans, for they are human in that most important way. And sentience, the ability to reflect, has marked the world, leaving psychic residue that manifests as shadows, such as the plants. The multi-task, multimedia-saturated generation must find it hard to imagine such a simple and slow life. The only technology seen in the manga is moderately old or unobtrusive--motor scooters, cameras, coffee makers. The characters communicate by snail mail. Nary a cell phone or mention of the internet, or even television, is seen. Alpha spends entire days doing nothing but painting the shop, riding about on her moped to take photographs, or fixing up an old well. Such a slow pace, unencumbered by entertainment, must seem like the setting for a profoundly boring life. I admit, though I can sit and daydream far longer than most of my peers, I usually want to be doing something cerebral, like reading, or playing a video game. I don't know if this is mostly because of my desire for 'efficiency' (like sitting around leisurely is a waste of precious time) or my scattershot Gen-Y attention span. I admit I have that urge to sit in front of my laptop far more than I should, as do all of my friends--you should see some gatherings, where everybody is in front of a screen--even though I know reading blogs is just as unproductive as sitting around daydreaming. But there is that illusion of productivity, when we sit in front of technology. Then again, plant me in a library, and I'll be entertained from opening to closing. Is reading a physical book any more inherently good, though? This is also a world of work-life balance. The overworked Japan of today is gone. People work as much as they need to, with ample leisure time. Alpha frequently leaves her cafe for days at a time, and often receives only one guest per few days. And they can sustain this lifestyle because there is zero commercialism--they work for money to purchase what they need. No keeping up with the neighbors. No consumerist lifestyle. Sure, they live in simplicity, but they're happy. They have the basic creature comforts--nay, luxuries, like air conditioning and running water--but that is all they need. We could all take a lesson from this, given our hyper-commercialized and overworked lives. These people shy not from good, hard work, but they work to achieve a goal, not to spin their wheels, or produce more beyond what is needed for the sake of an edge. There is no blind cycle of consumption. And I have found hard work with a purpose is far more cleaning, and fulfilling, than work half as hard with no purpose. Inherent in seeing the beauty in YokoKai will be the fact that some people will accuse of thinking too hard about all this crap. On its face, this is a manga about nothing, just mundane details of daily life, making coffee, re-building a cafe, riding into town on a motor scooter. That is a deeply Japanese aspect of the work, showing beauty through the mundane without further elaboration. It's left for the reader to decipher. I can't think of any American works even remotely in the mainstream (or sub-mainstream) that have such slow pacing. In pacing, it's decidedly un-American, un-Western. Quite literally nothing happens for long stretches of story arc. Finding meaning in it must seem to many as though one is trying too hard, or is being pretentious. And being accused of being pretentious is almost worse than being accused of being a hipster. I really think only a Westerner with zero exposure to Eastern works could think that. Let us look at the concrete details. It is a story about cyborgs, the dying human race, and a world after an ecological disaster we caused. How many stories encompass these themes? And yet, YokoKai is utterly fresh, new, and brilliant. I do not say this lightly. Perhaps because I've had such extensive exposure to brilliant interpretations of the ways technology and life will intersect in the future, I've become vastly harder to impress. A lot of mainstream American science fiction has nothing of interest to offer me. See, for example, Avatar, which explores nothing new in science fiction, and explores it far less deftly than many earlier works. I think some people interpret my cynical criticism of such movies as just that--the hallmark of a critical, cynical, and jaded person. I've been accused of 'looking for things' to gripe about. But I fancy that it is a sign of a life more deeply contemplated and exposed to superior, stunning art. I don't think this makes me inherently better than anybody else, but I do resent being accused of faux-jadedness, jadedness for the sake of being cool. I can be quite the enthusiastic appreciator of beauty. I think the accusation of 'looking for things' to gripe about, be offended by, etc (itself a classic derailing tactic) occurs when somebody with a deep, extensive understanding of a subject (either through exposure, like art or ally activism, or through living it, as in the case of a member of an underprivileged group itself) is quick to see things others either miss entirely or see as entirely novel. There is a level of expertise common in the accused. Not that there aren't cynical, unhappy people who do find fault with everything, but activists and scholars deeply resent being lumped into that juvenile camp. And because it's an accusation hinting at juvenile nihilism or blind rebellion, the derailing tactic doubles as a discrediting tactic. That nihilism is the flip-side of hipster irony, liking kitschy things because of their perceived lack of value, but in appreciating irony you have to acknowledge there is something inherently inferior or unlikable about the subject in the first place. Anyway. Overall, Yokohama Kaidashi Kikou is a real treat. It's grand, sweet, and breathtakingly beautiful in its simplicity, yet brilliantly imagined. It features a world that unfolds organically for us to discover, and leaves us with a sense of open wonder. It makes me want to drive a moped down an open country road, just for the thrill of being.