Welcome to This Week in Shonen Jump, in which a rotating duo of Multiversity staffers take a look at two stories contained in each installment of Viz Media’s Weekly Shonen Jump. For the uninitiated, Weekly Shonen Jump is an anthology that delivers more than 200 pages of manga of all varieties. We hope that you’ll join us in exploring the world of Weekly Shonen Jump each week. If you are unfamiliar, you can read sample chapters and subscribe at Viz.com.
This week, two of the co-hosts of the DC3cast, Zach Wilkerson and Vince Ostrowski, will be reviewing stories from this installment. We would love to see the comments section of these posts become discussion areas for these and the other stories found in each issue, so if you’ve got thoughts on the two books featured below or “One Piece,” “Seraph of the End,” “My Hero Academia,” “Food Wars,” “RWBY,” “Black Clover,” or “Blue Exorcist,” leave them in the comments!
We Never Learn Chapter 1
Written & Illustrated by Taishi Tsutsui
Reviewed by Vince Ostrowski
When you read manga on a regular basis, you end up having to forgive a lot. Part of the fun of digesting manga is to explore situations and tropes that are re-visited over and over again by different manga-ka, so much so that readers can often be found on social media debating the ways that a new manga will either obey a common trope or subvert it before it is even available for public consumption. In that way, “forgiveness” is not meant disparagingly, as most of the time all parties involved are very self-aware about the presence of tropes and are able to embrace them when they’re unoriginal, even as they hope to see them navigate new territory. “We Never Learn” is set-up as a classic romantic comedy manga with college test preparation as its plot delivery system. Our hero is well-rounded brainiac Nariyuki Yuiga, who is being offered his school’s most coveted scholarship (or “Special VIP Recommendation”) as long as he can help two classmates reach their potential. The twist is that though these students are highly intelligent themselves, they have each chosen a subject of focus for which the other one is far more suited. A pretty simple premise, right? “We Never Learn” manages to mine some enjoyable but light comedy out of the contrast between the two proteges’ personalities and their inability to grasp the subjects that don’t come naturally to them. Tsutsui-san also wrings some pathos out of the fact that Yuiga comes from a poor family and has lost his father, so he really needs the scholarship. Neither the pathos nor the comedy is groundbreaking, but it is effective enough to make for a breezy and enjoyable read.
The romantic angle is where “We Never Learn” really loses its way, so much so that it’s basically an afterthought tacked on to the end of the first issue. These sorts of stories don’t always have to create deep and meaningful bonds between the characters for the relational tensions to work, but they do have to do more than have the main character realize the two girls are cute 80% of the way through the issue after having been frustrated by them the entire time. But even that could be forgiven – after all, this is but the first chapter of a potentially long-running st- oh no, here comes the unnecessary fapservice from (probably) underage characters.
Look, I appreciate that fanservice is a long-running element of anime & manga, and there are definitely times when it has its charms. Another Shonen Jump entry, “Food Wars”, is a pretty good example of a manga with equal opportunity fanservice that also has a purpose. The “foodgasm” scenes still may not be to your liking or tastes, but at least they’re meant to emulate orgasms in an intentional and comedic fashion. The bathing scenes in “We Never Learn” exist only to be gratuitous. These scenes feature introspection on the part of the female characters that could have taken place anywhere, but happened to take place while they bathed, bubbles barely covering all the bits that American society has deemed they need to cover. Again, I know that this is sort of thing is a strange pillar of manga, but when it’s out of context with the rest of the story, then it exists just to be a trope and it’s one that’s hard to look past. “We Never Learn” had a good thing going, and a very uncomfortable and all-too-common element of gratuity derailed it.
Continued belowThe art still looks nice. Tsutsui-san’s characters are attractively rendered, which is definitely a necessity for a rom-com. He checks all the boxes as far as characters’ appearances fitting with their personalities, especially in the two female leads: Rizu Ogata, a soft-spoken button-upped bespectacled girl with a penchant for science and numbers, and Fumino Furuhashi, a looser, more daydreamy master of poetry and prose. The design-work in the series understandably doesn’t get much of a chance to stretch itself, being as generic as a realistic Japanese school dress code necessitates. There’s nothing fancy about the presentation here, sticking mostly to boxed panels and simple exchanges of dialogue with comedic reactions, because the manga doesn’t exist to be anything more than that. The gratuitous scene serves to spoil what was only mildly enjoyable to begin with and in the end “We Never Learn” achieves nothing more than mild amusement.
Final Verdict: 4.0 – What could have been an average rom-com makes an all-too-common overly gratuitous pitch to a horny audience. The title “We Never Learn” takes on a double meaning because of it.
The Promised Neverland Chapter #25
Written by Kaiu Shirai
Illustrated by Posuka Demizu
Reviewed by Zach Wilkerson
Twenty-five chapters is a relative drop in the bucket in terms of Shonen series, some of which don’t truly begin to gain traction until approaching triple digits. However, in a short span of time, this series has managed to deliver a succession of compelling mysteries and plot twists, resulting in an engaging escalation of tensions. Despite being among the youngest series currently running in Weekly Shonen Jump, “The Promised Neverland” carries itself with a respectable degree of confidence. Shirai blends the book’s horror-tinged undertones with the whimsical trappings of childhood. This tried and true pairing, exemplified by the likes of “It” or “Stranger Things,” plays well on themes of dependance, trust, and the fear of the vast unknown.
With Sister Krone seemingly eliminated a few weeks ago and the children’s trump card of Ray negated, Mom has once again gained the upper hand in this game of cat and mouse. While much of the drama is expressed through the rationalizations and strategies of the core children, Mom’s own thoughts and motivations remain a mystery. Her (seemingly) contradictory actions elevate her above her would-be one-note villain status. Her appeal towards acquiescence wraps Matrix-esque nihilism in a blanket of YA dystopian discomfort. It’s not breaking philosophical ground, but Mom’s words ring uncomfortably true in a world where heads are often happier when buried under sand.
Of course, the children are the driving force in this chapter, particularly the character of Ray. The anti-hero/traitor/spy remains nearly as difficult to read as mom. Norman and Emma’s stand against Mom, while relatively short, kept me on edge awaiting the grim possibilities. As I alluded to, these sections are highly cerebral, with much of the proceedings detailed through Norman’s inner monologuing. This sort of exposition is a common trope in mystery-thriller manga and relies heavily on the strength of the artist. Thankfully, Posuka Demizu is more than up to the task. As discussed recently in the first episode of the Multiversity Manga Club podcast (shameless plug!), Demizu’s style is unique among fellow WSJ artists. Tactfully walking the line of hyper-realism, Demizu works a sense of uneasiness into her work, drawing the reader into the mood and emotional state of the characters. The use of surroundings, in the case of this chapter the forest, is another tool in Demizu’s repertoire that contributes to the overall successful conveyance of emotion and story.
This chapter of “The Promised Neverland” straddles the line between climax and set-up. The landscape is rapidly shifting, seemingly towards a conclusion of sorts. In the case of manga, especially newer books, permanence can never be assumed. Nevertheless, the creative team has managed to craft a very interesting puzzle for readers, one that I hope will continue to grow in scope and complexity.
Final Verdict: 7.4 – “The Promised Land” remains a uniquely enjoyable contribution to Weekly Shonen Jump
