<p>Short and sweet, this manga is a great recommendation for just about anyone. It's not as dark as Asano's "Punpun," but it still has its share of challenges. I especially enjoyed the ending, even though the buildup was just okay for me. A reread might be in order, but since it's so short, it's not a big time commitment. The plot somewhat reminds me of Kafka's "Metamorphosis," minus the surreal transformation into a beetle. I won't spoil either story, though Kafka isn't a personal favorite, Asano consistently delivers with his art. The storytelling is beautiful here too, although I'm less fond of the character faces compared to "Punpun," which felt more realistic. There's a touch of humor in this tale, which is a nice addition, though it's mostly secondary. The inner thoughts of the characters were a bit tiresome for me, but not unbearable. That's all that comes to mind. I'd definitely recommend giving it a read. It's a pleasant slice of life with some depth, but ultimately ends on a happy note.</p>
Stretched across the expanse of time and repeatedly addressed within enduring works is a subject that elicits both dissonance and admiration from all who encounter it.
And why shouldn't it?
The topic is us, as we truly are: us beneath the masks of apathy we wear daily; us as our forgotten selves hovering above the enigmas of societal norms; us as our unfulfilled selves trapped between a monochromatic world we cannot color and the world we wish to paint with the hues locked in our hearts.
Collectively, we are often hindered by the very 'norms' we establish—an absurdity in its purest form—which Asano Inio has deeply grasped and portrayed within the pages of his work, Solanin.
At first glance, Solanin might appear to be a heavily-dosed slice-of-life centered around a seemingly-menopausal woman lamenting her dull job and her directionless boyfriend. It could seem like just another tale about a group of twenty-somethings stuck in life's monotonous rut, and that wouldn't be incorrect. Yes, it is about those things, but what sets Solanin apart from other similar narratives is the sheer humanity, relatability, and honesty that Asano infuses into every panel of the manga.
Solanin gathers the fragments of its thematic elements and assembles them through Asano's archetypal, flawed characters defined by their ordinariness, classical dissonance, and their struggle to reconcile who they are with what they desire according to their own projections and expectations. Throughout the story, we are presented with the perpetual paradox that confines these characters and sparks their catharsis; and at the heart of it all lies something profoundly grounded in reality, something almost anyone can relate to or at least comprehend—especially those who have felt the stagnant winds of life's mundanity or meaninglessness.
Fundamentally, this is a story about understanding: understanding oneself in one's own periphery and on the grand stage. It's a matter of will and intention, not merely circumstance and consequence. Asano illustrates the common struggles of common people and the potential for confronting them. Through Meiko, the rather ordinary "heroine" of the story, Asano emphasizes actions rooted in spontaneity and the possibility of change, even beyond the age when personalities and "futures" are often deemed set in stone. There is nothing extraordinary about Meiko; she is as typical as the office ladies she complains about, and so are her challenges. Yet, by following Meiko and her companions through a pivotal period in their lives and the journey they undertake to find happiness and fulfillment, we are introduced to something profound. The outcome may or may not materialize, but the essence lies in their effort—on their own volition—to try, and therein lies an intrinsic value or 'happiness'.
What distinguishes Solanin from Asano's other works is its moments of balanced optimism that complement rather than overshadow the harsh realism Asano is renowned for, resulting in a lighter tone but equally potent narrative. One could argue (and I do) that Asano's works exhibit a genuine appreciation for humanity and its potential, often supported by dashes of optimism and/or idealism (not the fairy-tale kind). They aren't solely clouded by stark realism with a cynical outlook. We are frequently exposed to a cold reality steeped in tragedy, pain, absurdity, and suffering, but not without purpose and definitely not without the 'potential' for change and growth. This transformation doesn't have to be revolutionary or life-altering; the mere possibility of its existence and the benefit derived from it is what matters. Solanin adheres to this approach, delving into the real world—not a cynical or pessimistic one—but the actual world and the individuals within it striving to discover themselves.
The quest for self-awareness, individuality, and personifying this inherent disillusionment are crucial themes in Solanin and are also prevalent in Japanese literature and culture (though Asano's style can be considered universally unique). Japanese writers often favor conveying emotions through simple yet impactful imagery over elaborate or didactic forms, plots, and ideologies. Formless and endless: many celebrated Japanese works aim to capture the natural flow of life without definitive beginnings or endings, unfazed by conventional standards of plot-driven, philosophically-rich, or structurally sound 'good literature'. Here, Asano distinguishes himself by skillfully blending both approaches, creating a bridge between the two extremes by immortalizing the ebb and flow of life in all its unpolished truth while offering profound insights into the human condition as it is.
Solanin is simply a continuation of this harmony. The sentiments, the reality and its consequences, the world, and the artist are all reflected within the ink-stained pages with unparalleled elegance.
And then there's the art.
What truly sets Solanin's (and most of Asano's works) art apart are his characters, both in design and action. Adorned with the simplest faces and most modest attire, the cast visually embodies their circumstances and mindset. Physical allure or aesthetically-pleasing features and anatomies won't be found here.
Yet, there's something remarkably captivating about how the art coalesces. Perhaps it's the lifelike quality of the backgrounds that subtly harmonize with the foreground dialogue and/or mood. Or perhaps it's the integral role the art plays in conjunction with the words, making them inseparable. Indeed, when discussing Solanin, it's impossible to separate the art from its components because everything functions as a cohesive whole—a larger 'mechanism' telling a story worth sharing (and feeling).
Asano Inio is an artist by nature, not profession. His works resonate with all that surrounds him, and as a result, creations like Solanin come to life. An artist whose thoughts are as tangible as the reality that inspires them. An artist whose work is unmistakably clear in its intent and undeniably awe-inspiring in its execution. An artist unshackled by escapist fantasies or uninspired optimism. An artist of "us," and you can effortlessly trace "us" within the pages of Solanin.
Solanin narrates the journey of a young couple in their early twenties as they navigate the complexities of life and self-discovery. A memorable quote from the first part of the manga is when Meiko resigns from her job, only to realize that "freedom without any purpose feels a whole lot like boredom." Unwilling to force herself into working, she leaves her boyfriend to shoulder their financial burdens alone. This decision triggers a series of events that lead both characters to deeply question their actions and motivations.
Story: 9/10
The narrative was exceptional. Given that I am also in my early twenties, I found it incredibly relatable. As a work by Asano, Solanin leans toward tragedy, yet it carries a more hopeful tone compared to his other creations.
Art: 9/10
Asano's skill in capturing characters' expressions brings countless comedic moments while preserving the story's gravity and underlying melancholy. The inclusion of occasional real-world photographs adds an extra layer of depth to each page.
Characters: 10/10
Asano masterfully portrays young adults grappling with their roles in society. Each character introduces a unique perspective, showcasing the diverse ways they choose to live their lives. Meiko and Taneda especially must balance their relationship, societal expectations, and financial stability without compromising their personal happiness.
Enjoyment: 9/10
I thoroughly enjoyed this manga. Its hopeful conclusion felt well-earned, with no loose ends that I noticed. I know I'll revisit it in the future for another read.
Overall: 9/10
Solanin is a universally appealing story, but if you're like me—someone in their early twenties without clear passions or goals—this manga will be a worthwhile experience (and perhaps bring some tears).<p>
As with the only other Asano work I've read so far ("A Girl by the Sea"), one word stands out above all others to describe how I feel about this piece: "damn." Not "damn" as in disappointment, but rather an expression of sheer astonishment at breaking through the ordinary.
Asano's "Solanin" leaves me with a bittersweet yet hopeful outlook on the future. Though I'm not a college-graduated twenty-something, I am a 19-year-old, a year out of high school, struggling to move forward without sacrificing my happiness and emotional well-being. This sentiment is something I share with our protagonist, Meiko. Additionally, I identify with many traits of the other main characters, especially their love for music. I've been a musician since seventh grade—playing bass since I was 13, drums since 14, and guitar and singing (originally in show choir and musicals) since 15. I deeply understand how a passion for music impacts these young adults who are in the prime of their lives but feel constrained in pursuing their dreams. I know all too well the struggle of wanting to share my music with the world but feeling unable to do so.
Moving on to personal connections with each character, let’s start with Rip, who plays drums—a lifelong love of mine. Rip works in his family's pharmacy as a retail employee, stuck without progression, a feeling I relate to after years in retail that nearly broke me emotionally. Next is Kato(u?), the guy content to stay in school. His reluctance to embrace change resonates with me; I can empathize with the thought, "I don't want to leave because I’m comfortable here, and change disrupts the balance." Like Kato(u?), I’ve accepted that change is inevitable, no matter how challenging it may be. Then there’s Taneda, embodying my desire to pursue what I love while acknowledging its potential impracticality. He symbolizes the need to push forward, finding joy along the way and answering the question, "Are you really happy?" Lastly, we have Meiko, whose struggles mirror another facet of Taneda's experience. While Taneda moves forward despite uncertainty, Meiko hesitates, holds back, and avoids stepping out of her comfort zone until the manga's conclusion. Together, they form a compelling dynamic.
In the afterword, Asano emphasizes that the people around us are the real heroes. You don’t need superpowers or extraordinary abilities to be heroic. Everyday individuals, like you, dear reader, are the true champions.
"Solanin" is a stunning exploration of what could be called "the aftermath of teenage angst," capturing how young adults navigate the complexities of growing up. I highly recommend this story to anyone living or undead—it’s impossible to ignore the powerful emotions it evokes.
Solanin is a brief yet poignant manga that delves into some of the challenges faced in young adult life. Recently, I came across a meme online with a comment stating, "nobody warns you about the post-college depression," and this essentially encapsulates Solanin. If you're in your early 20s, you'll likely find this manga highly relatable, as I did. I see a lot of myself in Meiko and Taneda, especially in moments where they confront the reality that mundane jobs might just be a part of life, or when they realize how swiftly they've grown into the individuals they once perceived as old during college. This book touches on some of the existential dread that comes with first entering (or attempting to enter) the workforce—the sense of aimlessness and uncertainty, the general tedium of "grown-up" life—but it also highlights the brighter moments where one reflects, "well, maybe it's not that bad."
I must mention that the main event occurring around the midpoint of the book is my least favorite part; it feels somewhat contrived to me, but not enough to significantly detract from my enjoyment of the book. The second half surpasses the first in terms of direction—at least for an Inio Asano manga. The characters are all fairly well-developed, particularly Meiko and Rip, and I rarely encounter moments where a character becomes overly irritating.
If Goodnight Punpun left you feeling frustrated or disinterested, I'd recommend giving this one a try instead. It still adheres to Asano's typical slice-of-life, character-driven style, but it's considerably lighter on the pseudo-profound monologues, featuring characters who are more relatable and less perpetually despondent. For me, it falls somewhere between a 7 and an 8. A worthwhile read.
Solanin is a refreshing read. When I say this, I mean that Asano has genuinely crafted something beautiful. Meiko Inoue, a 23-year-old woman, navigates her daily life and struggles independently in Tokyo. Together with Naruo Taneda, an aspiring rockstar, they aim to revive an old band named Rotti. With some college friends, they embark on their journey into the music industry.
What makes Solanin fascinating is its simplicity; it resonates deeply with young adults but also holds universal beauty.
In a world where the industry predominantly features teenage protagonists, Solanin stands out not by being overly fantastical, but by portraying the relatable lives of young adults who are still uncertain about their futures. It also sheds light on how the music business operates, showing that having a great band isn't always enough to satisfy the industry.
I won't give too much away, but the story becomes even more compelling after a certain point (if you've read the entire series, you know what I mean). It's the beauty found in tragedy or even in life itself. My main issues with this manga lie in the early chapters, but it evolves into something completely different. Meiko's life changes drastically, and the event that splits the plot is as impactful for her as it is for the reader.
The artwork is excellent and vibrant. While I find some characters' facial features somewhat similar, it didn't bother me too much.
Overall, Solanin is a unique manga that profoundly affects the hearts of the young and lost.
Stories that resonate on a personal level are among the most impactful you'll ever come across, yet they can also be difficult to process if they strike too close to your own experiences.
STORY - Solanin delves into the quarter-life crisis: the one you're experiencing, the one I'm navigating. After college, Meiko lands an "office lady" job. The hours and pay are decent, but she feels no connection to her work, colleagues, or boss. So, she resigns. How many recent graduates find themselves in the same boat not long after starting their first job? We leave high school with dreams of discovering our lifelong passion. We invest years in higher education, honing skills for that dream career. But upon graduation, reality hits hard. That time and money spent on your degree might not secure the job you envisioned. Your efforts could have been misaligned, or the job may not live up to expectations.
Meiko drifts aimlessly during her initial weeks of unemployment. Her newfound freedom proves as monotonous as her previous job. Finding direction is daunting. Contemplating "the rest of your life" is intimidating, but Solanin captures just a few months of this prolonged journey. It mirrors the anxieties and uncertainties of twentysomethings, though it offers ambiguous resolutions, if any. These solutions are half-formed and highly individualized. Despite its brief snapshot, Solanin's narrative feels complete. Growing up isn't confined to two set milestones. Throughout the story, Meiko matures, but her growth extends beyond its pages. She learns something valuable along the way.
The quarter-life crisis revolves around self-identification, self-worth, and self-motivation. Who am I? Who do I aspire to be? What do I want to accomplish? Why should I strive at all? What defines happiness? This coming-of-age struggle persists well into adulthood. Thus, Solanin addresses the ongoing process of growing up, long after we assumed we'd reached maturity. It's about life itself, about "leaving behind our former selves." We spend our lives evolving, always questioning where childhood ends and adulthood begins.
CHARACTER - Every character in Solanin feels authentic. Meiko could represent anyone, truly anyone. Her sentiments towards her job, her thoughts and emotions, her fears, doubts, hopes, and dreams — I don't know a single person her age who doesn't share at least some of these feelings. This universality doesn't dilute her identity; Meiko navigates life in her unique way. Her choices stem from her inclinations, and her successes and failures are hers alone to define. They could belong to anyone, but they are distinctly hers. The supporting cast shares this authenticity. I feel like I could personally know Taneda, Kato, Jiro, Ai, or others; they are all compellingly real. Even with only two volumes to develop, the secondary characters feel deeply nuanced. While their stories might differ if centered on them, the thematic essence would remain largely unchanged. It's remarkable how vivid and relatable these characters are despite limited space for development.
ART - Inio Asano's artistic style exudes a whimsical charm. His female characters, especially, appear childlike, making it challenging to perceive them as adults — somewhat incongruous for certain scenes. Many of them resemble each other in design and body type, reducing visual diversity. Conversely, his male characters look more mature, thanks to facial hair and varied physiques, enhancing their realism. Nonetheless, Asano's artwork remains robust, and his characters exhibit wonderful expressiveness. There's a pleasing balance between exaggerated caricatures and serious expressions. Some backgrounds felt generic due to their realistic detail, which clashed slightly with the character art. However, since characters often interact with their surroundings, not all backgrounds could be stock. Regardless, they integrate smoothly, reinforcing the story's grounding in the real world — portraying genuine people tackling authentic issues in their own ways.
OVERALL - Assuming I manage to accumulate all my credits and graduate on time next spring, it's easy to see why Solanin resonated so profoundly with me. It encapsulates every twentysomething's narrative, even those confident in their paths (which definitely doesn't include me). My friends and I frequently discuss the future without actually addressing it directly, so it's both ironic and enlightening that a story like this deepens my understanding. It's not as though I hadn't acknowledged these questions and doubts before, but having them articulated so explicitly feels like rediscovering them. And it's unsettling. And terrifying. And disheartening. Yet, it's something I must confront repeatedly until I chart my own course. As mentioned, Solanin doesn't provide concrete answers, but there's comfort in that too.
It begins so promisingly — the protagonist makes a life-altering choice, something that resonates with anyone trapped in a monotonous job. There’s this circle of friends and her partner, and everyone starts responding, setting off a chain reaction impacting their lives.
That’s how it begins, and it should have stayed on that path.
For reasons only the universe can fathom, an event occurs, and it's all downhill from there. It’s as if no one had any idea where the story was headed, so they veered into territory that’s been retread countless times before. All the characters, who you once connected with, are now... changed. Something is unfolding, people are reacting, but it never truly affects you; it feels forced and artificial.
So utterly ridiculous, and such a waste of time. If you’re considering reading it, just stick to the first volume and leave it at that.
"I came to realize it one day. The lyrics I've been struggling to craft are merely fabricated, just so I have something to sing. Nothing authentic can emerge from these dull, monotonous, and ambiguous lives we're leading, out of pretending our concerns for no real reason."
The works of Asano Inio often offer unique perspectives on life and society, and this story was no different. On the surface, it's about a couple in their twenties navigating self-discovery. Some events occur, and the narrative takes a slightly unexpected turn. It's a fairly short manga, spanning only 2 volumes (28 chapters in total), but it was never intended to be lengthy.
The feelings of anxiety, uncertainty, mediocrity, and hopelessness that afflict the minds of today's youth are portrayed almost perfectly through the manga's panels. The central theme revolves around music, yet it doesn't weigh the story down.
The characters themselves are flawed, making them realistic at their core. The monologues in the story are well-written and contribute to the melancholic atmosphere at various points.
The art style is distinctive and complements the manga effectively. Some panels are beautifully rendered. The inclusion of photographs in the later chapters, seamlessly integrated into the manga's style, was a commendable effort.
While I can't say that Solanin didn't leave an impact, it did leave me with some uneasy feelings. Overall, it was a worthwhile experience, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in a slice-of-life narrative presented in a slightly unconventional manner.
When I wrapped up my senior year in high school and transitioned into my freshman year of college, it struck me that I was standing on the brink of the so-called "real world." This realization brought with it a wave of anxiety, as I had no idea what the future held for me. To this day, that anxiety continues to linger, and I suspect it will never fully dissipate. However, Inio Asano's Solanin managed to soothe my concerns about the uncertain future (to a significant extent). Over time, I've encountered numerous works that resonated with me deeply, such as Fruits Basket, Oyasumi Punpun, White Album 2, Koe no Katachi, and the Ultimate Spider-Man comics. Yet, Solanin remains the sole work that has profoundly influenced my perspective. It might sound absurd, trite, or overly sentimental, but please bear with me.
I stumbled upon Solanin shortly after finishing Oyasumi Punpun, another masterpiece by Inio Asano, which was emotionally draining at the time. Punpun is steeped in soul-crushing cynicism, and while I adore it, it didn't help alleviate my anxiety. Instead, it exacerbated my feelings about my situation, and not even Ouran High School Host Club or Fullmetal Alchemist could lift me out of that slump. During a visit to the library for a regular Yu-Gi-Oh! session with friends, I discovered the first volume of Solanin. Within an hour, I was hooked and ended up reading the rest on my phone while my friends engaged in a Shaddoll mirror match.
Surely, Solanin must have resonated more deeply than Punpun, right? You'd be correct in assuming that, yet Solanin isn't nearly as heart-wrenching as Punpun was. Don't misunderstand; Solanin is brimming with Inio Asano's signature painful realism but also exudes cautious optimism. This duality significantly enhanced my experience with Solanin. I'm not naturally optimistic nor do I gravitate towards overly idealistic works. Solanin strikes the perfect balance between harsh reality and cautious optimism, making it resonate more personally than it would if it were more idealistic. Consequently, Solanin imparts crucial life lessons without being preachy or overbearing, unlike typical battle shonen or magic girl manga.
Solanin extends a hand to those uncertain about their futures, reminding us that we are ultimately responsible for shaping our lives. We may not know what lies ahead if we abandon societal conventions to pursue our inner desires, but it's better to strive for the life we want rather than conform to societal expectations and live with regret. That's the lesson I gleaned from it, though your interpretation may differ. Regardless, you grasp the general idea. For the record, Solanin offers much more beyond the "uncertain future" theme, but this review focuses on what stood out most to me. If you're curious about the rest, simply read the manga and craft your own review if inclined.
The characters are what truly elevated Solanin for me. Meiko Inoue ranks among the most relatable protagonists I've encountered in anime and manga. While she doesn't reach Punpun's level of empathy, she possesses enough depth for virtually anyone in a similar situation to connect with her and root for her success. The supporting cast is equally impressive, ensuring you remember each character and their significance. Whether you'll like them all is debatable, but I found everyone endearing, so perhaps you will too.
Visually, Solanin delivers flawlessly. Inio Asano consistently excels in artwork, and Solanin showcases his signature style. Personally, I appreciate seeing Asano's art grounded entirely in reality. Despite loving Punpun, the surreal imagery became taxing after a while, and not knowing what Punpun actually looked like was frustrating. Thankfully, Meiko isn't a bird or a human with a horned black mass for a head. The backgrounds are meticulously detailed, and the characters appear authentically human—what more could one desire? Perhaps a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich with extra bacon? If that's your craving, head to the deli instead of expecting a manga to fulfill it.
In conclusion, Solanin is a manga everyone should read at some point. It exemplifies the potential of slice-of-life stories. If you're contemplating your life's direction or facing similar dilemmas, I highly recommend giving it a read. I wish I could delve deeper into the story, characters, and narrative progression, but doing so without spoilers proves challenging. Maybe in the future, I'll revisit the entire manga and rewrite this review to better articulate my thoughts. For now, I'm content with its current state. Ultimately, Solanin is an extraordinary tale that nearly anyone can relate to and derive meaning from. That's all for now. Feedback is always appreciated, and with that, I'll sign off. Peace :)
<p>tl;dr: A very ordinary yet exceptionally well-crafted narrative about the final transition from childhood to adulthood, marred only by an atrocious epilogue.<br /><br />"Solanin" delves into the ambiguous phase of life between being a college student and becoming a working adult. While in school, there's always a sense of progress, even if it's unclear what that progress leads to. However, post-graduation, one must decide on their life path, and uncertainty can lead to feelings of meaninglessness. Some forge ahead with confidence, living extraordinary lives, while most opt for realism, striving to be functional members of society. Yet, they cling to dreams of greatness.<br /><br />It is within this context that Meiko and Naruo find themselves. Meiko works a well-paying office job she detests, frustrated by its monotony. Naruo works a part-time job he dislikes but maintains a band started in college due to his passion for music. Both struggle with balancing normalcy and happiness, fearing loss of what they have. They question whether their perceived happiness is genuine.<br /><br />The manga's author excels at crafting relatable characters, including Meiko, Naruo, and their friends. The art is top-notch, making the world feel authentic. As the story progresses, music becomes more central, though I found it less relatable. Nonetheless, the surrounding elements are compelling, drawing investment in the characters' simple, everyday stories. The pacing mirrors real life, interspersed with light comedy, creating a balanced narrative. It achieves powerful emotional moments, culminating in a deeply satisfying main ending.<br /><br />The series originally consisted of 28 chapters published from 2005 to 2006, included in the English omnibus "solanin" (2008). In 2010, a short semi-related oneshot appeared in an artbook, followed by chapter 29 as part of the Japanese omnibus in 2017, along with an additional afterword. These extras were compiled in English in "solanin: an epilogue" (2018). Despite enjoying the main series, I strongly dislike this book. The oneshot is weak and forgettable. Chapter 29, however, severely undermines the impactful conclusion of chapter 28 when read consecutively. Time-skip epilogues work for some stories, but not here. Additionally, the author's afterword feels off, possibly due to translation nuances. I recommend reading only the original omnibus and skipping the extra volume.</p>
This manga is truly a masterpiece of slice-of-life storytelling. It resonates deeply with the heart, and how could it not? The narrative is incredibly realistic, offering numerous lessons that can be gleaned from its pages. Having read it twice, I find myself connecting with the story on a much deeper and more meaningful level. In my own perspective, it was profoundly touching and has made me cherish the life I currently lead.
My recommendation is to savor the reading process and fully appreciate this exquisite work. If needed, reread it—stories like these often go unnoticed and underappreciated. Therefore, I hope you'll recommend this to others so they too can experience and enjoy this remarkable piece.
Popular Reviews
And why shouldn't it?
The topic is us, as we truly are: us beneath the masks of apathy we wear daily; us as our forgotten selves hovering above the enigmas of societal norms; us as our unfulfilled selves trapped between a monochromatic world we cannot color and the world we wish to paint with the hues locked in our hearts.
Collectively, we are often hindered by the very 'norms' we establish—an absurdity in its purest form—which Asano Inio has deeply grasped and portrayed within the pages of his work, Solanin.
At first glance, Solanin might appear to be a heavily-dosed slice-of-life centered around a seemingly-menopausal woman lamenting her dull job and her directionless boyfriend. It could seem like just another tale about a group of twenty-somethings stuck in life's monotonous rut, and that wouldn't be incorrect. Yes, it is about those things, but what sets Solanin apart from other similar narratives is the sheer humanity, relatability, and honesty that Asano infuses into every panel of the manga.
Solanin gathers the fragments of its thematic elements and assembles them through Asano's archetypal, flawed characters defined by their ordinariness, classical dissonance, and their struggle to reconcile who they are with what they desire according to their own projections and expectations. Throughout the story, we are presented with the perpetual paradox that confines these characters and sparks their catharsis; and at the heart of it all lies something profoundly grounded in reality, something almost anyone can relate to or at least comprehend—especially those who have felt the stagnant winds of life's mundanity or meaninglessness.
Fundamentally, this is a story about understanding: understanding oneself in one's own periphery and on the grand stage. It's a matter of will and intention, not merely circumstance and consequence. Asano illustrates the common struggles of common people and the potential for confronting them. Through Meiko, the rather ordinary "heroine" of the story, Asano emphasizes actions rooted in spontaneity and the possibility of change, even beyond the age when personalities and "futures" are often deemed set in stone. There is nothing extraordinary about Meiko; she is as typical as the office ladies she complains about, and so are her challenges. Yet, by following Meiko and her companions through a pivotal period in their lives and the journey they undertake to find happiness and fulfillment, we are introduced to something profound. The outcome may or may not materialize, but the essence lies in their effort—on their own volition—to try, and therein lies an intrinsic value or 'happiness'.
What distinguishes Solanin from Asano's other works is its moments of balanced optimism that complement rather than overshadow the harsh realism Asano is renowned for, resulting in a lighter tone but equally potent narrative. One could argue (and I do) that Asano's works exhibit a genuine appreciation for humanity and its potential, often supported by dashes of optimism and/or idealism (not the fairy-tale kind). They aren't solely clouded by stark realism with a cynical outlook. We are frequently exposed to a cold reality steeped in tragedy, pain, absurdity, and suffering, but not without purpose and definitely not without the 'potential' for change and growth. This transformation doesn't have to be revolutionary or life-altering; the mere possibility of its existence and the benefit derived from it is what matters. Solanin adheres to this approach, delving into the real world—not a cynical or pessimistic one—but the actual world and the individuals within it striving to discover themselves.
The quest for self-awareness, individuality, and personifying this inherent disillusionment are crucial themes in Solanin and are also prevalent in Japanese literature and culture (though Asano's style can be considered universally unique). Japanese writers often favor conveying emotions through simple yet impactful imagery over elaborate or didactic forms, plots, and ideologies. Formless and endless: many celebrated Japanese works aim to capture the natural flow of life without definitive beginnings or endings, unfazed by conventional standards of plot-driven, philosophically-rich, or structurally sound 'good literature'. Here, Asano distinguishes himself by skillfully blending both approaches, creating a bridge between the two extremes by immortalizing the ebb and flow of life in all its unpolished truth while offering profound insights into the human condition as it is.
Solanin is simply a continuation of this harmony. The sentiments, the reality and its consequences, the world, and the artist are all reflected within the ink-stained pages with unparalleled elegance.
And then there's the art.
What truly sets Solanin's (and most of Asano's works) art apart are his characters, both in design and action. Adorned with the simplest faces and most modest attire, the cast visually embodies their circumstances and mindset. Physical allure or aesthetically-pleasing features and anatomies won't be found here.
Yet, there's something remarkably captivating about how the art coalesces. Perhaps it's the lifelike quality of the backgrounds that subtly harmonize with the foreground dialogue and/or mood. Or perhaps it's the integral role the art plays in conjunction with the words, making them inseparable. Indeed, when discussing Solanin, it's impossible to separate the art from its components because everything functions as a cohesive whole—a larger 'mechanism' telling a story worth sharing (and feeling).
Asano Inio is an artist by nature, not profession. His works resonate with all that surrounds him, and as a result, creations like Solanin come to life. An artist whose thoughts are as tangible as the reality that inspires them. An artist whose work is unmistakably clear in its intent and undeniably awe-inspiring in its execution. An artist unshackled by escapist fantasies or uninspired optimism. An artist of "us," and you can effortlessly trace "us" within the pages of Solanin.
Story: 9/10
The narrative was exceptional. Given that I am also in my early twenties, I found it incredibly relatable. As a work by Asano, Solanin leans toward tragedy, yet it carries a more hopeful tone compared to his other creations.
Art: 9/10
Asano's skill in capturing characters' expressions brings countless comedic moments while preserving the story's gravity and underlying melancholy. The inclusion of occasional real-world photographs adds an extra layer of depth to each page.
Characters: 10/10
Asano masterfully portrays young adults grappling with their roles in society. Each character introduces a unique perspective, showcasing the diverse ways they choose to live their lives. Meiko and Taneda especially must balance their relationship, societal expectations, and financial stability without compromising their personal happiness.
Enjoyment: 9/10
I thoroughly enjoyed this manga. Its hopeful conclusion felt well-earned, with no loose ends that I noticed. I know I'll revisit it in the future for another read.
Overall: 9/10
Solanin is a universally appealing story, but if you're like me—someone in their early twenties without clear passions or goals—this manga will be a worthwhile experience (and perhaps bring some tears).<p>
Asano's "Solanin" leaves me with a bittersweet yet hopeful outlook on the future. Though I'm not a college-graduated twenty-something, I am a 19-year-old, a year out of high school, struggling to move forward without sacrificing my happiness and emotional well-being. This sentiment is something I share with our protagonist, Meiko. Additionally, I identify with many traits of the other main characters, especially their love for music. I've been a musician since seventh grade—playing bass since I was 13, drums since 14, and guitar and singing (originally in show choir and musicals) since 15. I deeply understand how a passion for music impacts these young adults who are in the prime of their lives but feel constrained in pursuing their dreams. I know all too well the struggle of wanting to share my music with the world but feeling unable to do so.
Moving on to personal connections with each character, let’s start with Rip, who plays drums—a lifelong love of mine. Rip works in his family's pharmacy as a retail employee, stuck without progression, a feeling I relate to after years in retail that nearly broke me emotionally. Next is Kato(u?), the guy content to stay in school. His reluctance to embrace change resonates with me; I can empathize with the thought, "I don't want to leave because I’m comfortable here, and change disrupts the balance." Like Kato(u?), I’ve accepted that change is inevitable, no matter how challenging it may be. Then there’s Taneda, embodying my desire to pursue what I love while acknowledging its potential impracticality. He symbolizes the need to push forward, finding joy along the way and answering the question, "Are you really happy?" Lastly, we have Meiko, whose struggles mirror another facet of Taneda's experience. While Taneda moves forward despite uncertainty, Meiko hesitates, holds back, and avoids stepping out of her comfort zone until the manga's conclusion. Together, they form a compelling dynamic.
In the afterword, Asano emphasizes that the people around us are the real heroes. You don’t need superpowers or extraordinary abilities to be heroic. Everyday individuals, like you, dear reader, are the true champions.
"Solanin" is a stunning exploration of what could be called "the aftermath of teenage angst," capturing how young adults navigate the complexities of growing up. I highly recommend this story to anyone living or undead—it’s impossible to ignore the powerful emotions it evokes.
<p>
I must mention that the main event occurring around the midpoint of the book is my least favorite part; it feels somewhat contrived to me, but not enough to significantly detract from my enjoyment of the book. The second half surpasses the first in terms of direction—at least for an Inio Asano manga. The characters are all fairly well-developed, particularly Meiko and Rip, and I rarely encounter moments where a character becomes overly irritating.
If Goodnight Punpun left you feeling frustrated or disinterested, I'd recommend giving this one a try instead. It still adheres to Asano's typical slice-of-life, character-driven style, but it's considerably lighter on the pseudo-profound monologues, featuring characters who are more relatable and less perpetually despondent. For me, it falls somewhere between a 7 and an 8. A worthwhile read.
What makes Solanin fascinating is its simplicity; it resonates deeply with young adults but also holds universal beauty.
In a world where the industry predominantly features teenage protagonists, Solanin stands out not by being overly fantastical, but by portraying the relatable lives of young adults who are still uncertain about their futures. It also sheds light on how the music business operates, showing that having a great band isn't always enough to satisfy the industry.
I won't give too much away, but the story becomes even more compelling after a certain point (if you've read the entire series, you know what I mean). It's the beauty found in tragedy or even in life itself. My main issues with this manga lie in the early chapters, but it evolves into something completely different. Meiko's life changes drastically, and the event that splits the plot is as impactful for her as it is for the reader.
The artwork is excellent and vibrant. While I find some characters' facial features somewhat similar, it didn't bother me too much.
Overall, Solanin is a unique manga that profoundly affects the hearts of the young and lost.
Thank you for reading.
STORY - Solanin delves into the quarter-life crisis: the one you're experiencing, the one I'm navigating. After college, Meiko lands an "office lady" job. The hours and pay are decent, but she feels no connection to her work, colleagues, or boss. So, she resigns. How many recent graduates find themselves in the same boat not long after starting their first job? We leave high school with dreams of discovering our lifelong passion. We invest years in higher education, honing skills for that dream career. But upon graduation, reality hits hard. That time and money spent on your degree might not secure the job you envisioned. Your efforts could have been misaligned, or the job may not live up to expectations.
Meiko drifts aimlessly during her initial weeks of unemployment. Her newfound freedom proves as monotonous as her previous job. Finding direction is daunting. Contemplating "the rest of your life" is intimidating, but Solanin captures just a few months of this prolonged journey. It mirrors the anxieties and uncertainties of twentysomethings, though it offers ambiguous resolutions, if any. These solutions are half-formed and highly individualized. Despite its brief snapshot, Solanin's narrative feels complete. Growing up isn't confined to two set milestones. Throughout the story, Meiko matures, but her growth extends beyond its pages. She learns something valuable along the way.
The quarter-life crisis revolves around self-identification, self-worth, and self-motivation. Who am I? Who do I aspire to be? What do I want to accomplish? Why should I strive at all? What defines happiness? This coming-of-age struggle persists well into adulthood. Thus, Solanin addresses the ongoing process of growing up, long after we assumed we'd reached maturity. It's about life itself, about "leaving behind our former selves." We spend our lives evolving, always questioning where childhood ends and adulthood begins.
CHARACTER - Every character in Solanin feels authentic. Meiko could represent anyone, truly anyone. Her sentiments towards her job, her thoughts and emotions, her fears, doubts, hopes, and dreams — I don't know a single person her age who doesn't share at least some of these feelings. This universality doesn't dilute her identity; Meiko navigates life in her unique way. Her choices stem from her inclinations, and her successes and failures are hers alone to define. They could belong to anyone, but they are distinctly hers. The supporting cast shares this authenticity. I feel like I could personally know Taneda, Kato, Jiro, Ai, or others; they are all compellingly real. Even with only two volumes to develop, the secondary characters feel deeply nuanced. While their stories might differ if centered on them, the thematic essence would remain largely unchanged. It's remarkable how vivid and relatable these characters are despite limited space for development.
ART - Inio Asano's artistic style exudes a whimsical charm. His female characters, especially, appear childlike, making it challenging to perceive them as adults — somewhat incongruous for certain scenes. Many of them resemble each other in design and body type, reducing visual diversity. Conversely, his male characters look more mature, thanks to facial hair and varied physiques, enhancing their realism. Nonetheless, Asano's artwork remains robust, and his characters exhibit wonderful expressiveness. There's a pleasing balance between exaggerated caricatures and serious expressions. Some backgrounds felt generic due to their realistic detail, which clashed slightly with the character art. However, since characters often interact with their surroundings, not all backgrounds could be stock. Regardless, they integrate smoothly, reinforcing the story's grounding in the real world — portraying genuine people tackling authentic issues in their own ways.
OVERALL - Assuming I manage to accumulate all my credits and graduate on time next spring, it's easy to see why Solanin resonated so profoundly with me. It encapsulates every twentysomething's narrative, even those confident in their paths (which definitely doesn't include me). My friends and I frequently discuss the future without actually addressing it directly, so it's both ironic and enlightening that a story like this deepens my understanding. It's not as though I hadn't acknowledged these questions and doubts before, but having them articulated so explicitly feels like rediscovering them. And it's unsettling. And terrifying. And disheartening. Yet, it's something I must confront repeatedly until I chart my own course. As mentioned, Solanin doesn't provide concrete answers, but there's comfort in that too.
<p>
It begins so promisingly — the protagonist makes a life-altering choice, something that resonates with anyone trapped in a monotonous job. There’s this circle of friends and her partner, and everyone starts responding, setting off a chain reaction impacting their lives.
That’s how it begins, and it should have stayed on that path.
For reasons only the universe can fathom, an event occurs, and it's all downhill from there. It’s as if no one had any idea where the story was headed, so they veered into territory that’s been retread countless times before. All the characters, who you once connected with, are now... changed. Something is unfolding, people are reacting, but it never truly affects you; it feels forced and artificial.
So utterly ridiculous, and such a waste of time. If you’re considering reading it, just stick to the first volume and leave it at that.
The works of Asano Inio often offer unique perspectives on life and society, and this story was no different. On the surface, it's about a couple in their twenties navigating self-discovery. Some events occur, and the narrative takes a slightly unexpected turn. It's a fairly short manga, spanning only 2 volumes (28 chapters in total), but it was never intended to be lengthy.
The feelings of anxiety, uncertainty, mediocrity, and hopelessness that afflict the minds of today's youth are portrayed almost perfectly through the manga's panels. The central theme revolves around music, yet it doesn't weigh the story down.
The characters themselves are flawed, making them realistic at their core. The monologues in the story are well-written and contribute to the melancholic atmosphere at various points.
The art style is distinctive and complements the manga effectively. Some panels are beautifully rendered. The inclusion of photographs in the later chapters, seamlessly integrated into the manga's style, was a commendable effort.
While I can't say that Solanin didn't leave an impact, it did leave me with some uneasy feelings. Overall, it was a worthwhile experience, and I would recommend it to anyone interested in a slice-of-life narrative presented in a slightly unconventional manner.
<p>
I stumbled upon Solanin shortly after finishing Oyasumi Punpun, another masterpiece by Inio Asano, which was emotionally draining at the time. Punpun is steeped in soul-crushing cynicism, and while I adore it, it didn't help alleviate my anxiety. Instead, it exacerbated my feelings about my situation, and not even Ouran High School Host Club or Fullmetal Alchemist could lift me out of that slump. During a visit to the library for a regular Yu-Gi-Oh! session with friends, I discovered the first volume of Solanin. Within an hour, I was hooked and ended up reading the rest on my phone while my friends engaged in a Shaddoll mirror match.
Surely, Solanin must have resonated more deeply than Punpun, right? You'd be correct in assuming that, yet Solanin isn't nearly as heart-wrenching as Punpun was. Don't misunderstand; Solanin is brimming with Inio Asano's signature painful realism but also exudes cautious optimism. This duality significantly enhanced my experience with Solanin. I'm not naturally optimistic nor do I gravitate towards overly idealistic works. Solanin strikes the perfect balance between harsh reality and cautious optimism, making it resonate more personally than it would if it were more idealistic. Consequently, Solanin imparts crucial life lessons without being preachy or overbearing, unlike typical battle shonen or magic girl manga.
Solanin extends a hand to those uncertain about their futures, reminding us that we are ultimately responsible for shaping our lives. We may not know what lies ahead if we abandon societal conventions to pursue our inner desires, but it's better to strive for the life we want rather than conform to societal expectations and live with regret. That's the lesson I gleaned from it, though your interpretation may differ. Regardless, you grasp the general idea. For the record, Solanin offers much more beyond the "uncertain future" theme, but this review focuses on what stood out most to me. If you're curious about the rest, simply read the manga and craft your own review if inclined.
The characters are what truly elevated Solanin for me. Meiko Inoue ranks among the most relatable protagonists I've encountered in anime and manga. While she doesn't reach Punpun's level of empathy, she possesses enough depth for virtually anyone in a similar situation to connect with her and root for her success. The supporting cast is equally impressive, ensuring you remember each character and their significance. Whether you'll like them all is debatable, but I found everyone endearing, so perhaps you will too.
Visually, Solanin delivers flawlessly. Inio Asano consistently excels in artwork, and Solanin showcases his signature style. Personally, I appreciate seeing Asano's art grounded entirely in reality. Despite loving Punpun, the surreal imagery became taxing after a while, and not knowing what Punpun actually looked like was frustrating. Thankfully, Meiko isn't a bird or a human with a horned black mass for a head. The backgrounds are meticulously detailed, and the characters appear authentically human—what more could one desire? Perhaps a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich with extra bacon? If that's your craving, head to the deli instead of expecting a manga to fulfill it.
In conclusion, Solanin is a manga everyone should read at some point. It exemplifies the potential of slice-of-life stories. If you're contemplating your life's direction or facing similar dilemmas, I highly recommend giving it a read. I wish I could delve deeper into the story, characters, and narrative progression, but doing so without spoilers proves challenging. Maybe in the future, I'll revisit the entire manga and rewrite this review to better articulate my thoughts. For now, I'm content with its current state. Ultimately, Solanin is an extraordinary tale that nearly anyone can relate to and derive meaning from. That's all for now. Feedback is always appreciated, and with that, I'll sign off. Peace :)
<p>
My recommendation is to savor the reading process and fully appreciate this exquisite work. If needed, reread it—stories like these often go unnoticed and underappreciated. Therefore, I hope you'll recommend this to others so they too can experience and enjoy this remarkable piece.
<p>
Leave a Review