Abandon the Old in Tokyo

So, I have just finished reading, “Abandon the Old in Tokyo” by Yohishiro Tatsumi – the father of “gekiga” (he coined the term, and its literal meaning is dramatic pictures), aimed at adult audiences with more mature themes. This collection of comics is just that. Eight stories with themes dealing with existentialism or morbidity that stuns you.These comics explore the murky side of humans, of the society we live in, and constantly through the use of allegory or metaphor bring that to fore. What I found most remarkable was how it was all achieved through the medium of minimal words in the comic panels, relying heavily only on the power of art.The collection delves deep into the underbelly of Tokyo and the life of its residents in the 60s and the 70s. Most stories deal with economic hardship, loneliness, longing to better their circumstances, and estranged relationships. Everything is played out not-so-neatly – the twists and the turns are immense, and somehow to me they also seemed subtle. For instance, “Unpaid” for me was the darkest story of them all – of how a bankrupt businessman deals with life by connecting with a dog (you will understand the twist when you read it). Another favourite was the title story, about the relationship between a young man and his mother, and what happens when he wants to start living on his own.Tatsumi’s characters are ordinary. They lead ordinary lives, and perhaps aspire for a little more than what life has offered. He symbolises or at least tries to symbolise the mass – the everyone, and how drama is played out in their lives, sometimes much against their wish. Even though the stories are set in a different time, and even written in a different time, they make their presence felt through crowds, manholes, buses, trains, restaurants, and the ordinary that still exist and will continue to. His art and the words that accompany them complement each other throughout. Your emotions are tested – since some of the vignettes aren’t easy to handle. Yet, you must read Tatsumi. Start with this. Get introduced to a softer version of the gekiga. Highly recommend it.

Love this guys work. Highly recommended if you don't want to read about superheroes

Very good stories and great art

Tatsumi hat schon Ende der 60er das gezeichnete Äquivalent zur amerikanischen Kurzgeschichte geschaffen, und es gelingt ihm mal mehr, mal weniger, verfahrene Lebenssitationen auf wenigen Seiten zu skizzieren. Der Anspruch besteht darin, den Leser sehr schnell in ein Setting hineinzuziehen, uns mit Figuren bekannt zu machen, und die Dramatisierungsmaschinerie schleunigst anzuwerfen. Was mir an den meisten Stories gefällt: Sie enden fast nie mit einem Paukenschlag, manchmal sogar ruhig und offen genug, so dass der Leser noch ein paar Minuten über das Gelesene nachsinnt. Die Konstellationen sind wohl bekannt: Es geht um einsame Männer, alte und junge. In der Titelgeschichte beobachten wir jemanden, der seine verhärmte, bettlägerige, ständig Vorhaltung machende Jammermutter versorgt und sie - um eine mittelmäßige Liebesbeziehung zu beginnen - in ein Appartment befördert (und dafür seinen ganzen Lohn aufbraucht). Dort stirbt die Alte, die sich damals nur wenig um ihren Sohn gekümmert hat, an Tablettenvergiftung. Der Sohn trägt den toten Körper auf der Straße, zufälligerweise gerade am autofreien Fußgängertag. In einer anderen Geschichte bildet sich ein Fensterputzer ein, im Inneren eines Bürogebäudes würde seine erwachsene Tochter mit dem Chef sexuell aktiv sein. Daraufhin eilt er nach Hause und befiehlt ihr, sich zu duschen (somit zu reinigen), was die Distanz zwischen beiden noch vergrößert. Hier ist das letzte Bild so ein "Nachdenkverlängerer": Man sieht den Fensterputzer wieder an seinem Arbeitsplatz am Fenster hoch oben über der Staße, aber mit einem kleinen Baby auf den Rücken. Soll das also heißen, dass seine Tochter für ihn letztendlich immer noch sehr schutzbedürftig ist, dass er sie immer noch als Kind betrachtet, und zwar mit einem übertriebenen Maße an Elterneifersucht? "The Hole" hingegen ist eine Erzählung, mit der ich mich nur schwerlich anfreunden kann. Es geht um einen Wanderer, der von einer gedemütigten, entstellten Frau in einem Loch gefangen gehalten wird, weil Männer ihr Leben zerstört haben. Das ginge noch in Ordnung, aber die Freundin, die ihn natürlich sucht, findet ihn in diesem Loch und hilft ihm nicht, weil sie ihn für einen Lügner hält, der sie nicht wirklich liebt. Dort stirbt er dann nach einem Regenguss. "Unpaid" ist sicherlich besonders irritierend. Ein alter Ex-Geschäftsführer, der seine Schulden nicht bezahlen kann, mietet sich einen Hund mit Zimmer (als wäre dieser Hund eine Prostituierte), zieht sich aus, und wälzt sich dann mit dem Tier im Bett und auf dem Boden (hat mit Sex nichts zu tun!), weint sich aus und erfährt eine Nähe mit einem Tier, das offenbar auch eine leidende Kreatur ist. Von allen neun Geschichten ist "Forked Road" wohl am atmosphärischsten. Tatsumi gelingt hier ein Kleinod zum Thema Sehnsucht und Enttäuschung. Aber die Zeichnungen können mich nicht immer überzeugen. Die Gesichter der Figuren, ihre Mimik, ihre Haltung - all das gibt es nur in wenigen Varianten. Die Komplexität der emotionalen Komponenten spiegelt sich nur ansatzweise in Augen, Nase, Mund, dadurch geht so manches verloren, was durch eine detallierte Grafik hätte verstärkt werden können. Ansonsten eine solide Arbeit aus dem Jahr 1970. Das Gespräch mit dem Autor, der auch tausendseitige Werke (nur auf japanisch) gezeichnet hat, ist eine Bereicherung. Außerdem sieht das Buch sehr schön aus. Da mich aber nur drei oder vier Stories wirklich angesprochen haben, gibt es nur 3 Punkte. Trotzdem eine Arbeit, die man sich anschauen sollte. Auf folgende Veröffentlichungen darf man gespannt sein.

Me gustó que llegó rápido, no me gustó que llegó maltratado de una esquina

Comics. Traditionally, that word conjured up puerile images of fuzzy bunnies or birdies bouncing into harmless cute mischief. Many thought that only children should read such banalities. Few, especially in the Unites States, where comics "grew up" relatively late, could imagine that this often simply drawn art form had the capability of dealing with deep existential or even starkly morbid topics. Cute comics definitely have their place, but they do not exhaust the entire medium. Enter "gekiga," a term coined by Japanese artist Yoshihiro Tatsumi to describe a comic genre aimed largely at adults, or at least at mature audiences. This untrodden path led to murky unexplored corners of human society and psychology drawn in unforgettable imagery that provides an often disturbing portrayal of the alienation of modern life. Never extremely popular, perhaps for obvious reasons, the stories nonetheless made their way into print in mid-20th century Japan. For decades they remained nearly unknown and ignored until comics around the world evolved and others realized that a certain artist in Japan may have actually foreshadowed the future. By the first decade of the 21st century, collections of "gekiga" appeared in comic stores, compliments of "Drawn and Quarterly," who published many never before seen classics in English. Three volumes in particular celebrated the work of Tatsumi. This series' second volume, "Abandon the Old in Tokyo," though its stories were written around 1970, still resonate in today's industrial workaday world, in which many people find themselves lost, abandoned or simply confused. Tatsumi's work doesn't offer any consolation or answers, but, merely by acknowledging this less visible side of "civilization," readers may find themselves attaining some kind of emotional catharsis. These stories will stick in the consciousness. Maybe in the way they push extremes they manage to offer some type of release.The very first page of the book's very first story, "Occupied," outright defies expectations. Here a man sits on a public toilet, looking suspiciously over his shoulder as if he knows someone watches him. This man soon finds out that his career in children's manga has run dry and that his now former publisher's promise that "we'll contact you again soon" rings hollow. His hopeless situation leads him to vomit, again in a public toilet and he discovers some extremely salacious artwork scrawled inside the stall, prompting another vomiting. A quick but slightly naughty encounter with a "hostess" leaves him extremely cold. Finally, another publisher offers him a spot in "Rude Magazine" drawing adult comics. The idea slowly grows on him and he decides to make his own contributions to the bathroom stall. Unfortunately, someone catches him in his artistic pursuits. Someone else yells "call the cops." He seems trapped by his own salvation. The sting of the word "pervert" in Japan fully comes to life in this story's final panels. Unforgettable."Abandon the Old in Tokyo," the second story, tells the grim tale of a young betrothed man caring for an old sick nagging mother. After his fiancee shows a passionate interest in "staying over," he finds inspiration in a news article about senior citizens found long dead in their apartments. After implementing his plan he has horrified second thoughts, but his mother may have decided to take things into her own debilitated hands. This story's brilliant ending wafts in that ineffable part of the brain that contemplates the temptingly unthinkable and its consequences. "The Washer" finds a window washer spying on a woman, a secretary, having an affair with a company president. His co-worker thinks the man has "a thing" for the secretary, but he's not aware of their very special relationship. Then one day he sees her moaning with pain and clutching her stomach through the window. "Beloved Monkey" explores society as horror. Those who seem like friends and compatriots may in fact rip you to pieces when encountered in numbers. A man makes this grisly discovery after releasing his pet monkey into a zoo exhibit. Another chilling ending. "Unpaid" features a completely washed up businessman in fervent denial. He still shows up to his drafty office. Seven million yen stand between him and his dignity. The book's most uncomfortably shocking scene comes when he seeks solace in a "Dog Appreciation Club." Here stands a man very near the bottom. The ending doesn't provide a lot of hope that he possesses the will to turn his life around. Whoosh."The Hole" presents a very bleak picture of a woman seeking revenge for the expectations of men. Traps await for men who wander unknowingly into her wilderness cabin. These traps seem to give the disfigured woman extreme pleasure. But perhaps the man who finds himself trapped has dug his own hole? "Forked Road," a coming of age story of sorts, takes place partially in the past. In the fleeting flash of an electric tram, a boy catches a glimpse of adults making love and never quite seems to recover. After a night of heavy drinking, he contemplates the forked tracks of the tram yawning into the distance. "The Eel" delves into a place Tatsumi has depicted before: the sewers. In this extremely inhospitable environment, a pair of eels manages to survive. But when his pregnant wife falls down the stairs and leaves him, while calling him "a loser," he performs a painfully symbolic act that only a single eel survives. He either attempts to restore what he sees as an unjust balance or he seeks revenge on those who can make it even in the worst of times. On some vaguely diffuse level it somehow makes sense, which few would probably want to admit.Tatsumi's stories feature the timeless and nameless everyman. He looks almost identical from story to story, but he serves as a symbol not as a continuous character. He seems to symbolize the mass. The mass of people who society, through circumstance or through intention, have deemed as unremarkable or possibly as unworthy. Though devalued and in some ways exiled, they nonetheless live complicated and remarkable lives full of drama, decisions and consequences. In some ways Tatsumi's stories demand that we not forget these people, these faces that glow from alleys or peek from under manhole covers. They contribute to society and hold unique places not always filled with distinction or prestige, but unique places nonetheless. The places they hold also shape their lives, for better or worse, and possibly lead to poor decisions or just a penchant for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps most people who inhabit the modern world fall into Tatsumi's categories? Perhaps the majority of people today can identify in some way with the people in these stories? Similar to his other work, this book contains complicated stratifications of interpretation. Everyone will likely come away with something slightly different. But everyone will come away with something, which makes "Abandon the Old in Tokyo" yet another testament to the power and insight of "gekiga" and its founder.