I remember 'Moon Child' by Shimizu Reiko (or The Portrait of a Shoujo Manga Fan as a Young Woman)
Recently, I stumbled upon newly republished volumes of Moon Child (月の子), a manga classic by Shimizu Reiko (清水玲子). It struck me that it was precisely ten years ago, when I was a sixteen-year-old girl in some godforsaken place in Canada, that I discovered Moon Child, and went down the slippery slope of shoujo manga ever since. I was extremely pleased by the elegantly designed new covers, and in a bout of nostalgia I reflected on the decade-long love that dares not speak its name that is my love of (well-written) shoujo manga.
It may sound like ancient history in this age of freely distributed manga scans: Ten years ago, I lived in the backwaters part of town, and the most economical feasible way for me to get hold of manga was through trips to a Chinese-run manga rental store that was two hours away by bus. These trips had to be planned and budgeted ahead of time, as I had only a small allowance and I usually also stop by a well-stocked public library to borrow books (the library closer to home simply did not have the books I wanted to read in literature and history) and CDs (mostly classical music).
As you may have guessed it, there was really no one around to share my passion for these things, so these trips were inevitably solitary excursions. Until I discovered the fan communities on the internet later on, I had no one to whom I could spread the gospel. The other kids at school were interested in dating, Hollywood movie stars, sports etc - things that they could talk about to each other aloud. I was in love with the quality of ephemeral beauty and the aesthetic sense in Shimizu-sensei's manga (among a bunch of other things). I think it was also around this time that I began to develop my idea that having a trained eye for beautiful things is the saving grace of otherwise sordid and transient human life, even if it means having that trained eye means social isolation. Think of the myth of Psyche having to to keep silent about her pregnancy in order to give birth to Pleasure.
There is an incident during one of my trips to get manga, books and CDs that recur in my dreams quite frequently of late. Once, I was so absorbed with whatever I was reading on the way home that I missed the stop where I was supposed get off. The next stop was 15 minutes away by bus and 1 hour away by foot.I got off at the next stop, in order to take the same bus route going the opposite way to get home. The bus I was waiting for comes only once every half an hour, so I was stuck in the middle of nowhere with two heavy bags of loot. I sat down on a wooden bench, tried to carry on reading but was afraid that I would get so absorbed again as to miss the bus. So I simply sat, and gazed at the countryside around me, with cows chewing grass here and there and not a human soul to be spotted across the horizon. The wind blew against my skirt and I felt a touch of the chill of the Canadian early spring. And perhaps because the landscape was so very broad, I felt very small. Time seemed to have stood still to me, and I felt an inward sadness. So this is where your passion gets you, I thought to myself. Why can't you just be like everyone else? Certainly the natural landscape around me compounded the loneliness I felt, and that feeling is vivid even in my dreams to this day. Still, I wonder why do I dream of this incident so often?
Ten years later, the picture is very different. There is less pressure for a working adult to blend into a set of social group for one thing, and your independent judgment has more credibility - in fact, unless you teach, the typical working life is all about agreeing and disagreeing with other professional adults. In high school, you are conditioned to be like everyone else. In the real world, anything goes.
By way of conclusion, here is my question to anyone reading this: Have you ever had the moment of revelation where you ask yourself, why can't I just be like everyone else?









The Love of One Million Pound / 100 Man Pondo no Ai








Recent Comments