“All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts...”
With these verses, William Shakespeare encapsulated what would, three centuries later, become the cornerstone of Goffman and Pirandello's philosophies. Indeed, every human being, day by day, performs an act, donning a different mask for every situation, as Pirandello might have written—each striving to survive and integrate into a society that often feels more fictional than the theater itself.
Hiroki Endo arrived on the scene, drawing inspiration from both real and imagined experiences, crafting his own vision of the world and creating a miniature stage filled with diverse settings and characters. Known for his long-running series "Eden" and "All Rounder Meguru," Endo is celebrated as an eclectic artist who grappled with finding his path in life, reflecting those struggles in his psychological narratives rich with drama and dark humor. His "Tanpenshu" (or short stories) is a compilation of works created since his debut in 1996, featuring seven one-shot mangas published over the following four years, all serialized in Kodansha's Afternoon magazine.
It all began with "The Crows, the Girl and the Yakuza," Endo's first exploration of his recurring theme of the "dog-eat-dog" world, where the strong oppress the weak, leaving them powerless against fate and desperate for strength. We follow Aoki, an aging yakuza member, whose encounter with a lonely girl surrounded by crows prompts him to reflect on his life choices and the nature of being an outlaw. Ultimately, the story conveys the realization that each life holds its own value, leading the crow to regain the white feathers it had lost.
Next comes “Because You're Definitely a Cute Girl,” which delves into the confusion of a high school girl grappling with sex and relationships, compounded by her immersion in Jung's writings and her feelings of displacement. She feels constrained to act like a good girl, a typical teenager, and a devoted daughter, while internally wrestling with suppressed emotions. This tension is evident in every dialogue, from a middle schooler's aversion to math to the habitual adjustment of skirt lengths after hearing peers discuss fashion.
Although published in the second volume, chronologically the next tale is “Platform.” Centering around Takayuki Shinohara, the younger son of a respected yakuza boss, it explores his role as an outsider within his family's criminal enterprise, akin to a "cold war." The narrative revolves around the search for love from those we deem "family" and the uncertainty of the future. The titular platform symbolizes change, representing how train stations mark transitions and new beginnings. By the end, the protagonist must decide which world he wishes to inhabit and the extent of his commitment to securing it.
The final story in the first volume, “For Those of Us Who Don't Believe in God,” stands out as the most profound in the collection and serves as a brilliant example of metafiction. It embodies the idea of "world as a stage," presenting a theater troupe preparing for their performance. Offstage, lives intertwine with a director navigating a personal crisis with his partner, using the play as both therapy and mockery. Characters are assigned roles opposite to their real-life situations, prompting reflections on their current circumstances and life in general.
“Hang” carries multiple meanings, symbolizing escape—not literally, but through mental association. Hanging is associated with death, often self-inflicted, suggesting suicide as the ultimate escape from life's burdens. Additionally, the title reflects the destructive journey of the two main characters, Shokichi and Megumi, pushing beyond the boundaries of humanity only to discover that no true escape exists in a world tethered to technological advancement.
“High School Girl 2000” is semi-autobiographical, recounting the author's idle musings during work, reminiscing about pivotal moments in his high school and adult life—from aspiring to be a mangaka to the hubris of achieving early success (this was during the first year of "Eden's" serialization). The tone oscillates between drama and comedy, capturing the anxieties of youth and the disillusionment of adulthood. It concludes with Endo suddenly feeling old despite his relatively young age, contemplating a romantic encounter with a high school girl.
“Boys Don't Cry” is an original six-page story crafted specifically for the tankobon, concluding this anthology. It depicts the absurd and nonsensical exchange between two youths discussing unrequited love atop a school roof, alternating between heartfelt debate and mutual insults.
Written in a straightforward yet occasionally poetic and theatrical style, Hiroki Endo's Short Stories also document his artistic evolution. Each piece showcases improvements in his artwork, progressing from rudimentary sketches to more intricate and polished illustrations. His thematic focus shifts gradually, moving away from absolute despair toward a broader perspective, even allowing room for humor in certain scenarios.
By reading these short stories, one gains insight into the author's development and deeper understanding of his recurring motifs in later works. These tales emphasize the perpetual struggle of daily life alongside the enduring belief that resilience and perseverance make existence worthwhile.
I've begun reading this manga with great enthusiasm, as I was instantly captivated by the artwork within just a few pages. "The Crows, the Girl and the Yakuza" is the opening story, and in my view, it stands out as the best among them. It's the sole narrative where I didn't sense that the artist was rushed to conclude or constrained by a limited page count for each tale.
There's an undeniably unfinished quality to these stories; they feel akin to entries from an artist's practice sketchbook, perhaps drafts leading up to the definitive work.
Nevertheless, I genuinely appreciated this piece, given my affinity for themes of darkness, melancholy, and despair, much like my appreciation for lively, positive mangas where Evil is soundly defeated by Good. It's clever and occasionally philosophical.
Hiroki Endo's Tanpenshu proves to be a commendable work overall, and I harbor no regrets about having read it. I simply regard it as a promising glimpse of things to come. <p>
Popular Reviews
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts...”
With these verses, William Shakespeare encapsulated what would, three centuries later, become the cornerstone of Goffman and Pirandello's philosophies. Indeed, every human being, day by day, performs an act, donning a different mask for every situation, as Pirandello might have written—each striving to survive and integrate into a society that often feels more fictional than the theater itself.
Hiroki Endo arrived on the scene, drawing inspiration from both real and imagined experiences, crafting his own vision of the world and creating a miniature stage filled with diverse settings and characters. Known for his long-running series "Eden" and "All Rounder Meguru," Endo is celebrated as an eclectic artist who grappled with finding his path in life, reflecting those struggles in his psychological narratives rich with drama and dark humor. His "Tanpenshu" (or short stories) is a compilation of works created since his debut in 1996, featuring seven one-shot mangas published over the following four years, all serialized in Kodansha's Afternoon magazine.
It all began with "The Crows, the Girl and the Yakuza," Endo's first exploration of his recurring theme of the "dog-eat-dog" world, where the strong oppress the weak, leaving them powerless against fate and desperate for strength. We follow Aoki, an aging yakuza member, whose encounter with a lonely girl surrounded by crows prompts him to reflect on his life choices and the nature of being an outlaw. Ultimately, the story conveys the realization that each life holds its own value, leading the crow to regain the white feathers it had lost.
Next comes “Because You're Definitely a Cute Girl,” which delves into the confusion of a high school girl grappling with sex and relationships, compounded by her immersion in Jung's writings and her feelings of displacement. She feels constrained to act like a good girl, a typical teenager, and a devoted daughter, while internally wrestling with suppressed emotions. This tension is evident in every dialogue, from a middle schooler's aversion to math to the habitual adjustment of skirt lengths after hearing peers discuss fashion.
Although published in the second volume, chronologically the next tale is “Platform.” Centering around Takayuki Shinohara, the younger son of a respected yakuza boss, it explores his role as an outsider within his family's criminal enterprise, akin to a "cold war." The narrative revolves around the search for love from those we deem "family" and the uncertainty of the future. The titular platform symbolizes change, representing how train stations mark transitions and new beginnings. By the end, the protagonist must decide which world he wishes to inhabit and the extent of his commitment to securing it.
The final story in the first volume, “For Those of Us Who Don't Believe in God,” stands out as the most profound in the collection and serves as a brilliant example of metafiction. It embodies the idea of "world as a stage," presenting a theater troupe preparing for their performance. Offstage, lives intertwine with a director navigating a personal crisis with his partner, using the play as both therapy and mockery. Characters are assigned roles opposite to their real-life situations, prompting reflections on their current circumstances and life in general.
“Hang” carries multiple meanings, symbolizing escape—not literally, but through mental association. Hanging is associated with death, often self-inflicted, suggesting suicide as the ultimate escape from life's burdens. Additionally, the title reflects the destructive journey of the two main characters, Shokichi and Megumi, pushing beyond the boundaries of humanity only to discover that no true escape exists in a world tethered to technological advancement.
“High School Girl 2000” is semi-autobiographical, recounting the author's idle musings during work, reminiscing about pivotal moments in his high school and adult life—from aspiring to be a mangaka to the hubris of achieving early success (this was during the first year of "Eden's" serialization). The tone oscillates between drama and comedy, capturing the anxieties of youth and the disillusionment of adulthood. It concludes with Endo suddenly feeling old despite his relatively young age, contemplating a romantic encounter with a high school girl.
“Boys Don't Cry” is an original six-page story crafted specifically for the tankobon, concluding this anthology. It depicts the absurd and nonsensical exchange between two youths discussing unrequited love atop a school roof, alternating between heartfelt debate and mutual insults.
Written in a straightforward yet occasionally poetic and theatrical style, Hiroki Endo's Short Stories also document his artistic evolution. Each piece showcases improvements in his artwork, progressing from rudimentary sketches to more intricate and polished illustrations. His thematic focus shifts gradually, moving away from absolute despair toward a broader perspective, even allowing room for humor in certain scenarios.
By reading these short stories, one gains insight into the author's development and deeper understanding of his recurring motifs in later works. These tales emphasize the perpetual struggle of daily life alongside the enduring belief that resilience and perseverance make existence worthwhile.
There's an undeniably unfinished quality to these stories; they feel akin to entries from an artist's practice sketchbook, perhaps drafts leading up to the definitive work.
Nevertheless, I genuinely appreciated this piece, given my affinity for themes of darkness, melancholy, and despair, much like my appreciation for lively, positive mangas where Evil is soundly defeated by Good. It's clever and occasionally philosophical.
Hiroki Endo's Tanpenshu proves to be a commendable work overall, and I harbor no regrets about having read it. I simply regard it as a promising glimpse of things to come. <p>