Solanin offers a small window into the uncertainties of life. It's like a soft murmur of the bitter aimlessness that subtly infiltrates daily existence, an ennui universally experienced by humans as they cherish the fleeting, precious moments that connect memories.<br />The characters in Solanin grapple quietly with finding their place and purpose, trying to stay engaged as they hesitantly step into adulthood. The story is grounded in honest realism, providing enough dramatic depth without becoming overly negative. This balance is further enhanced by the genuine, believable moments of joy sprinkled throughout. It creates a deeply touching atmosphere that, unfortunately, is somewhat marred by some underdeveloped characters—a significant flaw in a character-driven story like this one. Additionally, the bond between two key characters isn't as well-developed as it should be, and the narrative takes an abrupt turn past the midpoint, shifting into a more clichéd and uninspired storyline.<br />Despite its numerous flaws, Solanin remains a charming and enjoyable experience thanks to its strong emotional core, which shines through its panels, characters, and plot. It embodies a soul filled with melancholy yet also peace—a form of optimistic pessimism. <p>
"What now?" is the dilemma some fresh graduates face. On the surface, this issue might seem trivial and even a bit privileged. After all, these graduates have the luxury to pause and question their surroundings rather than diving straight into the daunting waters of society just to make ends meet and survive. And yes, that's a fair critique. However, this doesn't negate the legitimacy of the emotions felt by those graduates. There's real depth to what they're grappling with—it's a question of meaning. And it's deeply personal.
The feeling of being trapped in a dead-end situation because the path you chose wasn't driven by passion but by practicality is a heavy burden. How does one reconcile with that feeling? That's exactly what *Solanin* explores.
Enter Meiko, the protagonist—a young woman searching for answers. She's dissatisfied with her job, surrounded by terrible coworkers, and has a boss who takes every opportunity to hit on her. The story begins at a pivotal moment when Meiko realizes she must escape this toxic environment—and she does. But living in a bustling city like Tokyo isn't cheap, which puts immense pressure on her boyfriend, Taneda, who hasn't fully embraced the responsibilities of adulthood yet.
Taneda shares Meiko's existential blues, though there's a sense that he's been avoiding them. He exists in a liminal space—working part-time while still playing music with his college band. One foot is in the "real world," while the other remains stuck in the past, reluctant to let go of simpler times. He has a flicker of passion for music but lacks confidence, so when Meiko informs him of her decision to quit her job, everything spirals out of control. Now, he faces a choice: pursue stability through a full-time job or gamble everything on his dream of making it as a musician.
At its core, *Solanin* is about seeking fulfillment in a world that often feels indifferent to individual desires. However, this premise alone doesn't make the manga exceptional. What truly sets it apart is how the story unfolds—the way characters interact and communicate feels authentic and relatable. Their conversations are nuanced, reflecting genuine human quirks; there's a noticeable difference between how someone speaks to a close friend versus an acquaintance. While some dialogue leans toward introspection, it never comes across as forced or pretentious. Every interaction aligns seamlessly with each character's personality.
Asano's signature artistic style adds another layer of charm, infusing the narrative with absurdity and humor to counterbalance the intense emotional moments. When the story delves into raw, heartfelt scenes, the emotions erupt powerfully, pulsating with anxiety, melancholy, and frustration. Yet, the pacing is deliberate; the manga knows when to pull back, giving readers time to process these heavier moments.
All these elements combine to create a profound connection between the audience and the struggles of Meiko and Taneda. Whether or not they—or we—find definitive answers, the manga offers solace in the knowledge that these emotions and challenges are genuine. The pain, hardships, and losses depicted serve as proof that our feelings matter. If anything, *Solanin* provides a tangible anchor for anyone navigating life's uncertainties.
It doesn't matter if you're a college student, a recent graduate, or even a high schooler—as long as you're searching for meaning, this manga deserves your attention. It won't hand you the answers, but it will accompany you on your journey until you find them.
Having read the 11 volumes of Oyasumi Punpun by the same author, which I would easily rate as a 9/10 or 10/10 personally, I decided to give this manga a try. Unfortunately, I found myself feeling let down.
At the start, there wasn't much that really drew me into the story, except perhaps the main character's somewhat cute design. Still, aware that something dramatic was likely to unfold later, I pressed on with an open mind. In the end, though, the twist left me underwhelmed.
The short two-volume format doesn't do the story any favors, and apart from the heroine, the characters felt underdeveloped. There were moments of soliloquy scattered throughout, but ultimately, I couldn't help viewing them as shallow, one-dimensional figures. They weren't even particularly likable. Due to this lack of depth in character exposition or development, the main turning point of the story came across not as a tragedy, but as an overly melodramatic and selfish act by a character I couldn't emotionally connect with. I also struggled to take the central romantic relationship between the protagonist and her boyfriend seriously.
Even though the story did tug at my heartstrings in some ways, I still can't describe it as particularly creative or insightful compared to the author's later works.
Inio Asano's Solanin through Narratology: An Academic Understanding of the Devices in the Manga
Solanin, at its core, presents a clichéd—or perhaps universal—narrative about a group of friends grappling with uncertainty about their futures. However, the manga's remarkable success stems from its adept use of narration techniques to achieve its purpose. Within the Japanese context, manga spans diverse genres, and artists and writers have historically crafted exceptional literary works through skilled artwork and storytelling. Inio Asano's Solanin can be analyzed by examining Aristotle's key elements of plot and Gerard Genette's questions regarding the act of narration itself. Through varied focalization, narrators, packaging, time manipulation, and representations, Solanin emerges as a meaningful work of art and literary achievement that resonates deeply with readers.
According to Aristotle's interpretation of narrative structure, a character typically progresses through stages: possessing a fatal flaw, experiencing a moment of self-recognition, and ultimately undergoing a reversal of fortune. In Solanin, protagonist Meiko embodies these stages. Her fatal flaw is evident early on when she reflects, "I have no idea what to do with myself. And while I wait for my epiphany, I feel the toxins collecting in my body" (pp.7). This flaw mirrors the doubts of other characters dissatisfied with their monotonous lives. The second stage, self-recognition, occurs at pivotal moments, such as her decision to quit her job or Taneda pointing out her indecision (pp.173). The reversal of fortune materializes when the band rejects an offer to become a swimsuit model's backing band, highlighting stagnation in their lives. These familiar plot elements connect Solanin to narratives readers understand and identify with, forming a robust framework enhanced by narrative devices in both text and art.
Gerard Genette emphasizes the significance of how a story is told through narration. Solanin employs both mimetic and diegetic narrative techniques, blending vivid details of specific conversations and imagery with broader summaries of situations. The mimetic style portrays events as they unfold, featuring detailed images of interactions and dialogue. For instance, the recurring motif of vegetables—introduced with the deliveryman, Meiko's reaction, and Taneda's acknowledgment—creates familiarity and symbolizes alternative lifestyles for the reader to ponder. On page 181, Rip and Kato dramatically reveal a neglected potato, reflecting Meiko's emotional state. These small yet significant details tie the story together, enhancing its substance. Additionally, casual phrases like "did you curl your hair?" add depth, revealing Rip's crush on Meiko and making the characters relatable.
Diegetic narration in Solanin manifests graphically and dialogically. While following Naruo's thoughts, the pacing shifts unrealistically—for example, his bike ride transitions abruptly to him standing by a river. Such time manipulations omit irrelevant details, ensuring smooth transitions between locations and scenarios.
The primary narrator is Meiko, who alternates with secondary characters as homodiegetic narrators present within their own stories. Internal and external narratives intertwine, with characters' thoughts providing internal focalization while dialogue and visuals offer external focalization. Occasionally, internal focalization is visually amplified, as seen in Taneda's nightmare and "Me Summit," where emotions are personified in labeled shirts ("negative," "positive," etc.) (pp.118-119). This graphic representation dramatizes his thought process beyond textual means. Similarly, Rip's dreams appear in thought bubbles, adding comedic flair rather than advancing the plot.
A central frame narrative centers on Meiko's perspective, complemented by embedded narratives from Taneda, Rip, and Kato. Meiko dominates the storyline, with other characters' lives reinforcing the overarching theme. The interplay of frame and meta-narratives, combined with strategic flashbacks and time jumps, creates an engaging storyline.
Genette's concept of narration highlights Asano's effective use of time in a non-linear fashion. Techniques include analepsis and explicit time markers, such as Meiko stating, "It's been five days" (pp.181), after Taneda leaves. Coupled with diegetic storytelling, these time shifts omit unnecessary information while flashbacks clarify past events crucial to understanding character motivations and relationships. Flashbacks to the music club deepen interpersonal connections and contextualize current circumstances. Time manipulation delivers information strategically, enriching the narrative.
The story conveys aspects of the characters' lives through speech, thought, and visual representations. Thoughts and speech are integral throughout, distinguished by square boxes for extended inner monologues and small thought balloons for brief reflections. Speech appears in traditional balloons, while less critical thoughts and sound effects are written freely near the characters. Established conventions convey interaction and intention effectively. Visuals reinforce emotions, with cityscapes symbolizing entrapment and skies representing freedom.
Narratological techniques enhance emotional portrayal, with facial expressions, angles, lighting, poses, and backgrounds amplifying situations. Humor woven into the artwork lightens the mood, creating a world readers connect with emotionally. For instance, Taneda vomiting mid-conversation about the band's financial struggles adds levity without diminishing its gravity (pp.34). Meiko's internal struggle anchors the narrative, fostering ongoing questioning and uncertainty that keeps the story compelling.
Through narratological techniques, Solanin transforms a potentially trite tale into a functional and flourishing story. As the protagonist navigates fatal flaw, realization, and reversal, meaning emerges from her actions. Realistic portrayals are achieved via embedded narratives and internal focalization. Non-linear time flow and analepsis highlight critical moments without overwhelming the reader. As a psychological realist novel, Solanin exemplifies rich narration through art and writing, transcending conventional literary forms.
The couple are both avoidant, and they have significant needs for meaning, assertiveness, and efficiency in their lives. It's frustrating and sad for me that they lack outside help, with no one there to provide meaningful guidance.
Taneda attempts to shoulder much of the responsibility for creating meaning but lacks sufficient empathy and insight, which ultimately enables Meiko's lack of accountability.
It's challenging for any of the characters to be vulnerable with one another, yet they do make strides toward personal growth.
I was deeply moved by several of the main characters' outbursts and moments of assertiveness (the most relevant scene for me is when they confront the producer about their record).
"Solanin" marks my third encounter with the works of Inio Asano, and it continues to be a manga that radiates freshness while showcasing an authorial style that has grown more refined over time. By presenting events, ideas, and themes tied to processes and psychosocial phenomena largely familiar to Japanese young adults—such as conformity, entering the corporate workforce, prospects for personal growth in an economy stagnant for 30 years marked by persistent deflation and an aging population, and the transition to adulthood in high-pressure urban environments—Asano crafts a brutal realism both aesthetically and narratively. This approach ensures a significant level of visceral impact, fostering reader identification and empathy with his story. The famous sentiment of "he is just like me fr!!!" resonates strongly.
However, "Solanin" transcends mere relatability to establish itself as a mature slice of life capable of delving into the deepest insecurities of its target audience and sparking profound discussions. Regarding this realistic approach, a preliminary observation: in one review of this manga, user "ChouEritto" comments that the slice of life genre is "inherently flawed when not having an additional element added to have it stand out from the crowd," citing examples like Planetes and Haibane Renmei—to some extent, he is accurate.
Simply extracting a segment of time and space from one or more individuals without incorporating more "fantastical" elements responsible for delivering an engaging narrative can indeed seem dull. Yet, beyond all potential debates on this subject, it suffices to say that Solanin's intent is not fabrication: the author aims to openly and sincerely discuss issues affecting a substantial portion of the global population.
A DISCUSSION ABOUT REALITY
To facilitate this discussion, Asano accomplishes the remarkable feat of exposing and making public the intimacy of his characters, exploring individualities as complex beings with their own desires, perspectives, certainties, and uncertainties embedded within a society that molds and suppresses their possibilities. In this context, the duo of Meiko and Naruto stands out by presenting a series of relatable questions and dilemmas concerning the future and romantic relationships without losing sight of each character’s distinct characterization. In other words, the cast serves not merely as tools for the author to convey his themes about the pressures of a rigid social order but are also ambiguous and, above all, human.
In "Solanin," this external or self-imposed oppression is presented textually: there are numerous dialogues and monologues that progressively convey each character's worldview on various personal or collective topics (regrets, the organizational structure of labor, the importance of financial stability, the human relationship with money, etc.). These texts are rich, sincere, and free from excessive dramatization regarding real and everyday problems, characteristics that constitute the mentioned realism (for instance, Naruo's relationship with his father and Kotani's "old-fashioned" remarks). While other works may overlook this social aspect, as seen in "Garden of Words" (which shares converging themes), "Solanin" demonstrates a commitment to discussing based on Japan's material reality.
A DISTANT CLOSENESS
Particularly concerning the soliloquies, the first issue might arise. Perhaps due to the manga's brevity, the author was compelled to present feelings more pragmatically and directly, often through the repeated literary device of transcribing the thoughts of the focused character. Even if this narrative technique aligns with Asano's method, the monologues could weary the reader either by (i) being too frequent or (ii) occupying extensive portions of the frames, hindering visual appreciation.
Nevertheless, I believe this feature does not exhaust the reader because (i) the manga is short, offering a swift read, and (ii) this aspect is balanced by a steady non-verbal narrative, featuring a sensitive arrangement of elements, angles, and visual rhymes. Examples of this non-verbal quality include the allusion to Ritsuko's backstory in just one "secondary" frame, an efficient (though somewhat overt) metaphor with the manga's opening image, and the arrangement of objects within scenes.
In this facet of Asano's artistry, photorealism manifests in backgrounds alongside a more restrained character design that avoids certain visual archetypes. Unlike "Oyasumi Punpun" and "Nijigahara Holograph," the author presents rigid and tight frames with limited angle diversity, amplifying the narrative's intimacy and bringing the reader closer to the events. This reinforces the general concept of a slice of life (a particular snapshot of the time and space of specific individuals).
This claustrophobic atmosphere permeates all chapters, reinforcing the author's thesis regarding phenomena such as loneliness, personal confinement, and the insignificance of life. In essence, all the art harmonizes with the narrative most of the time, including the disruptive moments of ecstasy/climax where drawings fill entire pages. As a side note, the Brazilian edition of "Solanin" enhances this sense of closeness through its compact 17.6 cm x 10.6 cm format. Regrettably, this format diminishes the ability to appreciate the details Asano meticulously draws.
A LITTLE SLIP
Up to this juncture, "Solanin" appears to be a highly cohesive manga in approach, well-organized and executed. However, in this work, one can observe a characteristic of the author that became more pronounced later in "Oyasumi Punpun": the presence of overly dramatic events or conflicts escalating into genuine human tragedies. Without divulging spoilers, I refer to the events concluding volume one. Despite contextual support underlying these events and their development, and despite the script revisiting this episode to deepen the reader's understanding, the main event at the end of the first part seems discordant with the remainder of the work.
Compared to preceding and subsequent events exploring everyday life at a leisurely pace, this incident disrupts the overall tone of the project to create a dramatic turning point. As mentioned earlier, a slice of life lacking additional elements might bore the reader, so Asano adopted this strategy. Again, even though it coheres with the rest of the manga, the dramatic aspect of "Solanin" suffers significantly due to this event, with no other moment matching the dramatic intensity of the first volume's conclusion.
OTHER NOTES
- Yes, I cried.
- The instances when Asano fills the entire page with his illustrations are profoundly meaningful and beautiful.
- It's a highly humorous manga, even if the themes are relatively challenging to engage with.
CONCLUSION
Despite any issues or flaws inherent in Inio Asano's authorship, "Solanin" is a manga worth reading and enjoying, standing as a robust work that employs relatability and identification to provoke essential reflections and discussions in its target audience through an ideal harmony between aesthetics, narrative, and themes.
Solanin is a manga by Inio Asano, an artist celebrated for his work on Oyasumi Punpun. If you've read that series, you might have an idea of what to anticipate from Solanin. This manga isn't a tale of unrelenting happiness, but it's also not purely disheartening. It made me cry, yes, but it also made me laugh. Just like life itself. At its core, it narrates the story of a young couple deeply in love, yet burdened by the weight of uncertainty about their future. The narrative circles around them, their personal struggles, their circle of friends, and their families.
The story is as compelling as they come. It’s straightforward, ensuring you won’t struggle to follow the events. That doesn’t imply it lacks quality; rather, it’s crafted with such grace that it remains profound yet succinct. As mentioned earlier, the story follows a young couple navigating survival. While it starts with their everyday routines, it swiftly delves into the challenges awaiting them. The world depicted feels authentic and well-developed, lending the story a realistic and relatable vibe. Whether it evokes laughter or tears, the storytelling grips you from start to finish. With only 28 chapters, you can easily finish this manga in a single day.
The characters are meticulously developed, each possessing distinct personalities and traits. Generally, the ensemble is highly engaging, making it easy to form attachments, even when some of their choices may frustrate you. This enhances the overall mood of the manga, creating endearing yet imperfect characters. I refrain from elaborating too much because a significant part of the charm lies in discovering these individuals at your own pace. Trust me when I say the writing here is top-notch.
Asano employs his signature semi-realistic style, which harmonizes beautifully with the narrative. The visuals are a delight, especially the breathtaking backgrounds. The artwork is exceptionally clean, with panels that are never overcrowded or overwhelming. The layout is impeccably organized, providing a seamless reading experience. The facial expressions particularly stood out to me, playing a crucial role in conveying emotions during poignant moments. Whether it's a carefree grin during a casual meet-up with friends or a heart-wrenching sob under the moonlight, the expressions effectively communicate the characters' feelings. I swear, in one particularly sorrowful scene, the expressions alone were enough to bring me to tears.
Overall, the story is genuinely enjoyable. It’s sad, yes, but in a rewarding way. The humor is well-executed, and the pacing keeps you engaged without ever becoming burdensome. There’s never a dull or overly intense moment; the first chapter establishes a tone and rhythm that persists throughout. It might tug at your heartstrings, but it’s never unbearable. It becomes intensely emotional yet remains uplifting, which is my favorite aspect of the entire work.
In summary, it's challenging for me not to award it a perfect 10. The art, story, characters, and overall atmosphere of the manga are impeccable. These elements aren’t groundbreaking in terms of pushing the medium’s boundaries, as the manga understands its purpose and strives for excellence in simplicity. Everything is executed flawlessly, thus deserving a 10. It’s a must-read, no doubt. As a final note, the +18 rating should be respected. There’s nothing graphic—just occasional profanity and nudity, appearing perhaps once—but the themes are intended to resonate with adults. The anxiety of transitioning into adulthood is portrayed masterfully, and you might not appreciate the manga as much if you haven’t experienced that feeling yourself.
Solanin is truly a remarkable work. It isn't your typical slice-of-life manga, not by any stretch. While the storyline may not be entirely original, it is incredibly heartfelt and engaging. The "cast" consists of ordinary teenagers, each navigating that challenging phase of life where things begin to get tough. The story revolves around their struggles.
Has anyone ever told you that you have talent in something? WELL, NOPE. You're just an average person.
You want to become the greatest guitarist in the world? Or perhaps a famous lawyer? NOPE. Reality can slap you in the face. Not everything will necessarily go as planned. You will struggle (in most cases).
I personally believe almost everyone knows or has experienced this feeling when you start growing up and everything becomes darker and harder. Still, there's light beyond the darkness, and life won't always be so harsh. You'll experience great moments. Solanin is precisely about this, at least that's how I see it.
But that's not all there is to know about Solanin. There are many other reasons why it's a masterpiece. The character development is outstanding. It's not about silly "kawaii" girls with absurdly random problems like in some other mangas/animes. It's about teenagers discovering the difficulties of life. Taneda, Meiko... these two will face tough times, but also enjoy good ones along the way.
The art is breathtaking—simple yet stunning. Though I'm no professional artist, I genuinely admire the artwork; it looks incredible to me. It doesn't scream OMG KAWAII DESU NEEEEE, and that's what I loved most about it! The characters are realistic—not perfectly human-like, but without the large, exaggerated, unrealistic eyes often found in other works.
I won't spoil anything, but I guarantee you'll feel something after finishing Solanin. Sadness, happiness—it will likely be a mix of both. Don't expect it to be overly dramatic like some other manga/anime stories (which I won't name). It's simply about... life.
Thank you for reading, and I apologize for any (likely numerous) spelling or grammar mistakes, as I'm not a native English speaker and lack advanced skills (unfortunately).
Solanin is a seinen coming-of-age story focusing on a pair of former bandmates navigating the uncertainties of post-graduation life. For some, this transition can be challenging. The carefree college lifestyle now demands a 9-to-5 job that lacks passion, tied to a degree chosen on a whim during aimless early college years.
Solanin somewhat captures this essence. While I can relate to Meiko and Taneda to an extent, the narrative didn't particularly captivate or resonate with me. The manga leans heavily into slice-of-life elements, emphasizing character development and emotional depth. Thus, its appeal hinges on readers connecting with Meiko, Taneda, and the bandmates' struggles and restlessness.
What truly frustrates me is when a manga centered on slice-of-life and coming-of-age arcs introduces dramatic events. Sure, these incidents could occur, but in a story striving for realism, their inclusion feels jarring and inconsistent.
Not that I found the manga engaging prior to these moments, but I doubt I would have completed the series—had it not been for its concise 29-chapter run. <p>
Inio Asano's Solanin resonated with me deeply. I initially picked up the manga but forgot about it after a few days, only to dive back into it once I resumed reading. The standout feature of this manga is its realism—the characters, settings, and situations all feel genuine.
Moreover, the manga is visually appealing, with crisp, clear, and neat illustrations. It's also a quick read, as the chapters are relatively short. Every so often, a character—whether main or side—says something that truly hits home. Even days after finishing the manga, its characters, plot, and themes still linger in my mind. To me, this is a sure sign of a great series: one that keeps readers thinking long after it's over.
I would absolutely revisit Solanin, and I highly recommend it to anyone reading this. If you enjoy slice-of-life stories, you'll undoubtedly appreciate Solanin.
Asano Inio's Solanin captures people at a pivotal moment in their lives: their early twenties. That daunting time when self-doubt and uncertainty about the future creep in, made even more intense because we've already been through years of studying subjects we may or may not care about, graduated from college or university, and been thrust into the real world with no turning back.
But there is always the option to go sideways. Asano's stories incorporate elements so unexpected that they keep his manga from falling into cliché—a trap that's easy to stumble into given the subject matter. The early twenties are an awkward phase where we dive into counter-culture entertainment like The Matrix and Fight Club, memorizing every line, reading Haruki Murakami, writing cringeworthy poetry, and dabbling in hobbies that could potentially bring fame and fortune if we pursued them seriously—but we don't, because it's just a hobby, something we're mediocre at. Could we really make it big...right?
The character Meiko, an office lady in the manga, finds herself tired of routine and takes a bold step by quitting her job. This act is particularly courageous in Japan, where societal norms emphasize rigid structures. Her decision to leave puts pressure on her part-time boyfriend, who is exploring music with two college friends. Can he turn his passion into success and rescue them both from potential poverty?
Her resignation sets off a chain of choices and events that propel the couple into uncharted territory. Though frightening, this journey remains life-affirming as confronting one’s identity and purpose in today’s world requires immense courage. It prompts the question: Am I happy? Can I change my life?
In another author's hands, Asano's themes might feel trite and overused; however, Solanin is fresh, mature, humorous, captivating, and deeply emotional. It encapsulates the essence of our early twenties into two volumes of heartfelt drama, delivered in Asano's signature style.
The humor is unpredictable yet inspired, the dialogue sharp and genuine, the story grounded in reality, and the artwork stunning, filled with striking imagery that sidesteps the obvious pitfalls other creators might fall into.
Asano's approach goes straight to your heart, aiming to make it resonate with Solanin. Read the manga while listening to Shugo Tokumaru’s ‘Exit’ album and let yourself sing out loud.
Solanin narrates an intimate tale about the challenges of love, loss, and grief, focusing on individuals in their twenties who often find themselves overlooked by society.
History: This is a profoundly human story because it feels incredibly real. The protagonists have just graduated from high school and must adapt to adult life, leaving behind childhood aspirations—like playing in a band—to make a living like adults. It's a well-structured narrative that reads quickly but is deeply enjoyable, beautiful in every aspect, with touches of humor and moments of sadness and raw emotion. I emphasize once again that this is a very human story where everything feels authentic, as though it could be the story of any ordinary person. In this regard, Solanin deserves a 9.
Characters: The group of protagonists is superbly crafted, all connected by their shared passion for music despite their differences. Well, sort of, because the guys in the group are constantly laughing at absurdities. After the events of the first volume, the second and final volume showcases significant character development, especially for the protagonist. Through the small time skip between the first and second volumes, you can clearly see how the characters evolve. Even though you might predict how the plot will unfold after this development, rest assured, it doesn't lose its appeal. For the character section, I'll give it another 9—I adored them all (even the protagonist's mother, hahahahahah).
Drawing: While Inio Asano, the creator of the manga, excels more in crafting emotionally moving stories (e.g., Goodnight Punpun) than in his artwork, he still creates stunning landscapes of Japan and characters that are simple yet beautiful and endearing, though not overly intricate. And that recurring device of black panels with a bit of text is something I personally enjoy, but I also think those texts could be presented differently instead of always using a black background, as some pages alternate between vignette, black, vignette, black... which I don't particularly like. In the drawing section, an 8 seems sufficient, though I might even consider lowering it to a 7, but... nah.
Entertainment: I finished the manga in two days but thoroughly enjoyed it throughout. The story and art style create a calming experience that keeps you engaged. Although I initially doubted it due to the occasional nonsense, by the end, I truly loved it, finding myself reflecting on the manga for days after finishing it. For entertainment, I'd rate it an 8 out of 10.
Conclusion: A touching and relaxing story with a strong sense of realism that will captivate you almost instantly. Adding up all my previous scores, it merits an 8.5, but since MyAnimeList seems stuck in 2005 and doesn't allow decimals, the final grade is an 8. It's very good, but a 9 feels too high when considering other works by the same mangaka that are superior.
Popular Reviews
The feeling of being trapped in a dead-end situation because the path you chose wasn't driven by passion but by practicality is a heavy burden. How does one reconcile with that feeling? That's exactly what *Solanin* explores.
Enter Meiko, the protagonist—a young woman searching for answers. She's dissatisfied with her job, surrounded by terrible coworkers, and has a boss who takes every opportunity to hit on her. The story begins at a pivotal moment when Meiko realizes she must escape this toxic environment—and she does. But living in a bustling city like Tokyo isn't cheap, which puts immense pressure on her boyfriend, Taneda, who hasn't fully embraced the responsibilities of adulthood yet.
Taneda shares Meiko's existential blues, though there's a sense that he's been avoiding them. He exists in a liminal space—working part-time while still playing music with his college band. One foot is in the "real world," while the other remains stuck in the past, reluctant to let go of simpler times. He has a flicker of passion for music but lacks confidence, so when Meiko informs him of her decision to quit her job, everything spirals out of control. Now, he faces a choice: pursue stability through a full-time job or gamble everything on his dream of making it as a musician.
At its core, *Solanin* is about seeking fulfillment in a world that often feels indifferent to individual desires. However, this premise alone doesn't make the manga exceptional. What truly sets it apart is how the story unfolds—the way characters interact and communicate feels authentic and relatable. Their conversations are nuanced, reflecting genuine human quirks; there's a noticeable difference between how someone speaks to a close friend versus an acquaintance. While some dialogue leans toward introspection, it never comes across as forced or pretentious. Every interaction aligns seamlessly with each character's personality.
Asano's signature artistic style adds another layer of charm, infusing the narrative with absurdity and humor to counterbalance the intense emotional moments. When the story delves into raw, heartfelt scenes, the emotions erupt powerfully, pulsating with anxiety, melancholy, and frustration. Yet, the pacing is deliberate; the manga knows when to pull back, giving readers time to process these heavier moments.
All these elements combine to create a profound connection between the audience and the struggles of Meiko and Taneda. Whether or not they—or we—find definitive answers, the manga offers solace in the knowledge that these emotions and challenges are genuine. The pain, hardships, and losses depicted serve as proof that our feelings matter. If anything, *Solanin* provides a tangible anchor for anyone navigating life's uncertainties.
It doesn't matter if you're a college student, a recent graduate, or even a high schooler—as long as you're searching for meaning, this manga deserves your attention. It won't hand you the answers, but it will accompany you on your journey until you find them.
<p>
At the start, there wasn't much that really drew me into the story, except perhaps the main character's somewhat cute design. Still, aware that something dramatic was likely to unfold later, I pressed on with an open mind. In the end, though, the twist left me underwhelmed.
The short two-volume format doesn't do the story any favors, and apart from the heroine, the characters felt underdeveloped. There were moments of soliloquy scattered throughout, but ultimately, I couldn't help viewing them as shallow, one-dimensional figures. They weren't even particularly likable. Due to this lack of depth in character exposition or development, the main turning point of the story came across not as a tragedy, but as an overly melodramatic and selfish act by a character I couldn't emotionally connect with. I also struggled to take the central romantic relationship between the protagonist and her boyfriend seriously.
Even though the story did tug at my heartstrings in some ways, I still can't describe it as particularly creative or insightful compared to the author's later works.
Solanin, at its core, presents a clichéd—or perhaps universal—narrative about a group of friends grappling with uncertainty about their futures. However, the manga's remarkable success stems from its adept use of narration techniques to achieve its purpose. Within the Japanese context, manga spans diverse genres, and artists and writers have historically crafted exceptional literary works through skilled artwork and storytelling. Inio Asano's Solanin can be analyzed by examining Aristotle's key elements of plot and Gerard Genette's questions regarding the act of narration itself. Through varied focalization, narrators, packaging, time manipulation, and representations, Solanin emerges as a meaningful work of art and literary achievement that resonates deeply with readers.
According to Aristotle's interpretation of narrative structure, a character typically progresses through stages: possessing a fatal flaw, experiencing a moment of self-recognition, and ultimately undergoing a reversal of fortune. In Solanin, protagonist Meiko embodies these stages. Her fatal flaw is evident early on when she reflects, "I have no idea what to do with myself. And while I wait for my epiphany, I feel the toxins collecting in my body" (pp.7). This flaw mirrors the doubts of other characters dissatisfied with their monotonous lives. The second stage, self-recognition, occurs at pivotal moments, such as her decision to quit her job or Taneda pointing out her indecision (pp.173). The reversal of fortune materializes when the band rejects an offer to become a swimsuit model's backing band, highlighting stagnation in their lives. These familiar plot elements connect Solanin to narratives readers understand and identify with, forming a robust framework enhanced by narrative devices in both text and art.
Gerard Genette emphasizes the significance of how a story is told through narration. Solanin employs both mimetic and diegetic narrative techniques, blending vivid details of specific conversations and imagery with broader summaries of situations. The mimetic style portrays events as they unfold, featuring detailed images of interactions and dialogue. For instance, the recurring motif of vegetables—introduced with the deliveryman, Meiko's reaction, and Taneda's acknowledgment—creates familiarity and symbolizes alternative lifestyles for the reader to ponder. On page 181, Rip and Kato dramatically reveal a neglected potato, reflecting Meiko's emotional state. These small yet significant details tie the story together, enhancing its substance. Additionally, casual phrases like "did you curl your hair?" add depth, revealing Rip's crush on Meiko and making the characters relatable.
Diegetic narration in Solanin manifests graphically and dialogically. While following Naruo's thoughts, the pacing shifts unrealistically—for example, his bike ride transitions abruptly to him standing by a river. Such time manipulations omit irrelevant details, ensuring smooth transitions between locations and scenarios.
The primary narrator is Meiko, who alternates with secondary characters as homodiegetic narrators present within their own stories. Internal and external narratives intertwine, with characters' thoughts providing internal focalization while dialogue and visuals offer external focalization. Occasionally, internal focalization is visually amplified, as seen in Taneda's nightmare and "Me Summit," where emotions are personified in labeled shirts ("negative," "positive," etc.) (pp.118-119). This graphic representation dramatizes his thought process beyond textual means. Similarly, Rip's dreams appear in thought bubbles, adding comedic flair rather than advancing the plot.
A central frame narrative centers on Meiko's perspective, complemented by embedded narratives from Taneda, Rip, and Kato. Meiko dominates the storyline, with other characters' lives reinforcing the overarching theme. The interplay of frame and meta-narratives, combined with strategic flashbacks and time jumps, creates an engaging storyline.
Genette's concept of narration highlights Asano's effective use of time in a non-linear fashion. Techniques include analepsis and explicit time markers, such as Meiko stating, "It's been five days" (pp.181), after Taneda leaves. Coupled with diegetic storytelling, these time shifts omit unnecessary information while flashbacks clarify past events crucial to understanding character motivations and relationships. Flashbacks to the music club deepen interpersonal connections and contextualize current circumstances. Time manipulation delivers information strategically, enriching the narrative.
The story conveys aspects of the characters' lives through speech, thought, and visual representations. Thoughts and speech are integral throughout, distinguished by square boxes for extended inner monologues and small thought balloons for brief reflections. Speech appears in traditional balloons, while less critical thoughts and sound effects are written freely near the characters. Established conventions convey interaction and intention effectively. Visuals reinforce emotions, with cityscapes symbolizing entrapment and skies representing freedom.
Narratological techniques enhance emotional portrayal, with facial expressions, angles, lighting, poses, and backgrounds amplifying situations. Humor woven into the artwork lightens the mood, creating a world readers connect with emotionally. For instance, Taneda vomiting mid-conversation about the band's financial struggles adds levity without diminishing its gravity (pp.34). Meiko's internal struggle anchors the narrative, fostering ongoing questioning and uncertainty that keeps the story compelling.
Through narratological techniques, Solanin transforms a potentially trite tale into a functional and flourishing story. As the protagonist navigates fatal flaw, realization, and reversal, meaning emerges from her actions. Realistic portrayals are achieved via embedded narratives and internal focalization. Non-linear time flow and analepsis highlight critical moments without overwhelming the reader. As a psychological realist novel, Solanin exemplifies rich narration through art and writing, transcending conventional literary forms.
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Taneda attempts to shoulder much of the responsibility for creating meaning but lacks sufficient empathy and insight, which ultimately enables Meiko's lack of accountability.
It's challenging for any of the characters to be vulnerable with one another, yet they do make strides toward personal growth.
I was deeply moved by several of the main characters' outbursts and moments of assertiveness (the most relevant scene for me is when they confront the producer about their record).
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However, "Solanin" transcends mere relatability to establish itself as a mature slice of life capable of delving into the deepest insecurities of its target audience and sparking profound discussions. Regarding this realistic approach, a preliminary observation: in one review of this manga, user "ChouEritto" comments that the slice of life genre is "inherently flawed when not having an additional element added to have it stand out from the crowd," citing examples like Planetes and Haibane Renmei—to some extent, he is accurate.
Simply extracting a segment of time and space from one or more individuals without incorporating more "fantastical" elements responsible for delivering an engaging narrative can indeed seem dull. Yet, beyond all potential debates on this subject, it suffices to say that Solanin's intent is not fabrication: the author aims to openly and sincerely discuss issues affecting a substantial portion of the global population.
A DISCUSSION ABOUT REALITY
To facilitate this discussion, Asano accomplishes the remarkable feat of exposing and making public the intimacy of his characters, exploring individualities as complex beings with their own desires, perspectives, certainties, and uncertainties embedded within a society that molds and suppresses their possibilities. In this context, the duo of Meiko and Naruto stands out by presenting a series of relatable questions and dilemmas concerning the future and romantic relationships without losing sight of each character’s distinct characterization. In other words, the cast serves not merely as tools for the author to convey his themes about the pressures of a rigid social order but are also ambiguous and, above all, human.
In "Solanin," this external or self-imposed oppression is presented textually: there are numerous dialogues and monologues that progressively convey each character's worldview on various personal or collective topics (regrets, the organizational structure of labor, the importance of financial stability, the human relationship with money, etc.). These texts are rich, sincere, and free from excessive dramatization regarding real and everyday problems, characteristics that constitute the mentioned realism (for instance, Naruo's relationship with his father and Kotani's "old-fashioned" remarks). While other works may overlook this social aspect, as seen in "Garden of Words" (which shares converging themes), "Solanin" demonstrates a commitment to discussing based on Japan's material reality.
A DISTANT CLOSENESS
Particularly concerning the soliloquies, the first issue might arise. Perhaps due to the manga's brevity, the author was compelled to present feelings more pragmatically and directly, often through the repeated literary device of transcribing the thoughts of the focused character. Even if this narrative technique aligns with Asano's method, the monologues could weary the reader either by (i) being too frequent or (ii) occupying extensive portions of the frames, hindering visual appreciation.
Nevertheless, I believe this feature does not exhaust the reader because (i) the manga is short, offering a swift read, and (ii) this aspect is balanced by a steady non-verbal narrative, featuring a sensitive arrangement of elements, angles, and visual rhymes. Examples of this non-verbal quality include the allusion to Ritsuko's backstory in just one "secondary" frame, an efficient (though somewhat overt) metaphor with the manga's opening image, and the arrangement of objects within scenes.
In this facet of Asano's artistry, photorealism manifests in backgrounds alongside a more restrained character design that avoids certain visual archetypes. Unlike "Oyasumi Punpun" and "Nijigahara Holograph," the author presents rigid and tight frames with limited angle diversity, amplifying the narrative's intimacy and bringing the reader closer to the events. This reinforces the general concept of a slice of life (a particular snapshot of the time and space of specific individuals).
This claustrophobic atmosphere permeates all chapters, reinforcing the author's thesis regarding phenomena such as loneliness, personal confinement, and the insignificance of life. In essence, all the art harmonizes with the narrative most of the time, including the disruptive moments of ecstasy/climax where drawings fill entire pages. As a side note, the Brazilian edition of "Solanin" enhances this sense of closeness through its compact 17.6 cm x 10.6 cm format. Regrettably, this format diminishes the ability to appreciate the details Asano meticulously draws.
A LITTLE SLIP
Up to this juncture, "Solanin" appears to be a highly cohesive manga in approach, well-organized and executed. However, in this work, one can observe a characteristic of the author that became more pronounced later in "Oyasumi Punpun": the presence of overly dramatic events or conflicts escalating into genuine human tragedies. Without divulging spoilers, I refer to the events concluding volume one. Despite contextual support underlying these events and their development, and despite the script revisiting this episode to deepen the reader's understanding, the main event at the end of the first part seems discordant with the remainder of the work.
Compared to preceding and subsequent events exploring everyday life at a leisurely pace, this incident disrupts the overall tone of the project to create a dramatic turning point. As mentioned earlier, a slice of life lacking additional elements might bore the reader, so Asano adopted this strategy. Again, even though it coheres with the rest of the manga, the dramatic aspect of "Solanin" suffers significantly due to this event, with no other moment matching the dramatic intensity of the first volume's conclusion.
OTHER NOTES
- Yes, I cried.
- The instances when Asano fills the entire page with his illustrations are profoundly meaningful and beautiful.
- It's a highly humorous manga, even if the themes are relatively challenging to engage with.
CONCLUSION
Despite any issues or flaws inherent in Inio Asano's authorship, "Solanin" is a manga worth reading and enjoying, standing as a robust work that employs relatability and identification to provoke essential reflections and discussions in its target audience through an ideal harmony between aesthetics, narrative, and themes.
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Solanin is a manga by Inio Asano, an artist celebrated for his work on Oyasumi Punpun. If you've read that series, you might have an idea of what to anticipate from Solanin. This manga isn't a tale of unrelenting happiness, but it's also not purely disheartening. It made me cry, yes, but it also made me laugh. Just like life itself. At its core, it narrates the story of a young couple deeply in love, yet burdened by the weight of uncertainty about their future. The narrative circles around them, their personal struggles, their circle of friends, and their families.
The story is as compelling as they come. It’s straightforward, ensuring you won’t struggle to follow the events. That doesn’t imply it lacks quality; rather, it’s crafted with such grace that it remains profound yet succinct. As mentioned earlier, the story follows a young couple navigating survival. While it starts with their everyday routines, it swiftly delves into the challenges awaiting them. The world depicted feels authentic and well-developed, lending the story a realistic and relatable vibe. Whether it evokes laughter or tears, the storytelling grips you from start to finish. With only 28 chapters, you can easily finish this manga in a single day.
The characters are meticulously developed, each possessing distinct personalities and traits. Generally, the ensemble is highly engaging, making it easy to form attachments, even when some of their choices may frustrate you. This enhances the overall mood of the manga, creating endearing yet imperfect characters. I refrain from elaborating too much because a significant part of the charm lies in discovering these individuals at your own pace. Trust me when I say the writing here is top-notch.
Asano employs his signature semi-realistic style, which harmonizes beautifully with the narrative. The visuals are a delight, especially the breathtaking backgrounds. The artwork is exceptionally clean, with panels that are never overcrowded or overwhelming. The layout is impeccably organized, providing a seamless reading experience. The facial expressions particularly stood out to me, playing a crucial role in conveying emotions during poignant moments. Whether it's a carefree grin during a casual meet-up with friends or a heart-wrenching sob under the moonlight, the expressions effectively communicate the characters' feelings. I swear, in one particularly sorrowful scene, the expressions alone were enough to bring me to tears.
Overall, the story is genuinely enjoyable. It’s sad, yes, but in a rewarding way. The humor is well-executed, and the pacing keeps you engaged without ever becoming burdensome. There’s never a dull or overly intense moment; the first chapter establishes a tone and rhythm that persists throughout. It might tug at your heartstrings, but it’s never unbearable. It becomes intensely emotional yet remains uplifting, which is my favorite aspect of the entire work.
In summary, it's challenging for me not to award it a perfect 10. The art, story, characters, and overall atmosphere of the manga are impeccable. These elements aren’t groundbreaking in terms of pushing the medium’s boundaries, as the manga understands its purpose and strives for excellence in simplicity. Everything is executed flawlessly, thus deserving a 10. It’s a must-read, no doubt. As a final note, the +18 rating should be respected. There’s nothing graphic—just occasional profanity and nudity, appearing perhaps once—but the themes are intended to resonate with adults. The anxiety of transitioning into adulthood is portrayed masterfully, and you might not appreciate the manga as much if you haven’t experienced that feeling yourself.
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Has anyone ever told you that you have talent in something? WELL, NOPE. You're just an average person.
You want to become the greatest guitarist in the world? Or perhaps a famous lawyer? NOPE. Reality can slap you in the face. Not everything will necessarily go as planned. You will struggle (in most cases).
I personally believe almost everyone knows or has experienced this feeling when you start growing up and everything becomes darker and harder. Still, there's light beyond the darkness, and life won't always be so harsh. You'll experience great moments. Solanin is precisely about this, at least that's how I see it.
But that's not all there is to know about Solanin. There are many other reasons why it's a masterpiece. The character development is outstanding. It's not about silly "kawaii" girls with absurdly random problems like in some other mangas/animes. It's about teenagers discovering the difficulties of life. Taneda, Meiko... these two will face tough times, but also enjoy good ones along the way.
The art is breathtaking—simple yet stunning. Though I'm no professional artist, I genuinely admire the artwork; it looks incredible to me. It doesn't scream OMG KAWAII DESU NEEEEE, and that's what I loved most about it! The characters are realistic—not perfectly human-like, but without the large, exaggerated, unrealistic eyes often found in other works.
I won't spoil anything, but I guarantee you'll feel something after finishing Solanin. Sadness, happiness—it will likely be a mix of both. Don't expect it to be overly dramatic like some other manga/anime stories (which I won't name). It's simply about... life.
Thank you for reading, and I apologize for any (likely numerous) spelling or grammar mistakes, as I'm not a native English speaker and lack advanced skills (unfortunately).
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Solanin somewhat captures this essence. While I can relate to Meiko and Taneda to an extent, the narrative didn't particularly captivate or resonate with me. The manga leans heavily into slice-of-life elements, emphasizing character development and emotional depth. Thus, its appeal hinges on readers connecting with Meiko, Taneda, and the bandmates' struggles and restlessness.
What truly frustrates me is when a manga centered on slice-of-life and coming-of-age arcs introduces dramatic events. Sure, these incidents could occur, but in a story striving for realism, their inclusion feels jarring and inconsistent.
Not that I found the manga engaging prior to these moments, but I doubt I would have completed the series—had it not been for its concise 29-chapter run. <p>
Moreover, the manga is visually appealing, with crisp, clear, and neat illustrations. It's also a quick read, as the chapters are relatively short. Every so often, a character—whether main or side—says something that truly hits home. Even days after finishing the manga, its characters, plot, and themes still linger in my mind. To me, this is a sure sign of a great series: one that keeps readers thinking long after it's over.
I would absolutely revisit Solanin, and I highly recommend it to anyone reading this. If you enjoy slice-of-life stories, you'll undoubtedly appreciate Solanin.
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But there is always the option to go sideways. Asano's stories incorporate elements so unexpected that they keep his manga from falling into cliché—a trap that's easy to stumble into given the subject matter. The early twenties are an awkward phase where we dive into counter-culture entertainment like The Matrix and Fight Club, memorizing every line, reading Haruki Murakami, writing cringeworthy poetry, and dabbling in hobbies that could potentially bring fame and fortune if we pursued them seriously—but we don't, because it's just a hobby, something we're mediocre at. Could we really make it big...right?
The character Meiko, an office lady in the manga, finds herself tired of routine and takes a bold step by quitting her job. This act is particularly courageous in Japan, where societal norms emphasize rigid structures. Her decision to leave puts pressure on her part-time boyfriend, who is exploring music with two college friends. Can he turn his passion into success and rescue them both from potential poverty?
Her resignation sets off a chain of choices and events that propel the couple into uncharted territory. Though frightening, this journey remains life-affirming as confronting one’s identity and purpose in today’s world requires immense courage. It prompts the question: Am I happy? Can I change my life?
In another author's hands, Asano's themes might feel trite and overused; however, Solanin is fresh, mature, humorous, captivating, and deeply emotional. It encapsulates the essence of our early twenties into two volumes of heartfelt drama, delivered in Asano's signature style.
The humor is unpredictable yet inspired, the dialogue sharp and genuine, the story grounded in reality, and the artwork stunning, filled with striking imagery that sidesteps the obvious pitfalls other creators might fall into.
Asano's approach goes straight to your heart, aiming to make it resonate with Solanin. Read the manga while listening to Shugo Tokumaru’s ‘Exit’ album and let yourself sing out loud.
History: This is a profoundly human story because it feels incredibly real. The protagonists have just graduated from high school and must adapt to adult life, leaving behind childhood aspirations—like playing in a band—to make a living like adults. It's a well-structured narrative that reads quickly but is deeply enjoyable, beautiful in every aspect, with touches of humor and moments of sadness and raw emotion. I emphasize once again that this is a very human story where everything feels authentic, as though it could be the story of any ordinary person. In this regard, Solanin deserves a 9.
Characters: The group of protagonists is superbly crafted, all connected by their shared passion for music despite their differences. Well, sort of, because the guys in the group are constantly laughing at absurdities. After the events of the first volume, the second and final volume showcases significant character development, especially for the protagonist. Through the small time skip between the first and second volumes, you can clearly see how the characters evolve. Even though you might predict how the plot will unfold after this development, rest assured, it doesn't lose its appeal. For the character section, I'll give it another 9—I adored them all (even the protagonist's mother, hahahahahah).
Drawing: While Inio Asano, the creator of the manga, excels more in crafting emotionally moving stories (e.g., Goodnight Punpun) than in his artwork, he still creates stunning landscapes of Japan and characters that are simple yet beautiful and endearing, though not overly intricate. And that recurring device of black panels with a bit of text is something I personally enjoy, but I also think those texts could be presented differently instead of always using a black background, as some pages alternate between vignette, black, vignette, black... which I don't particularly like. In the drawing section, an 8 seems sufficient, though I might even consider lowering it to a 7, but... nah.
Entertainment: I finished the manga in two days but thoroughly enjoyed it throughout. The story and art style create a calming experience that keeps you engaged. Although I initially doubted it due to the occasional nonsense, by the end, I truly loved it, finding myself reflecting on the manga for days after finishing it. For entertainment, I'd rate it an 8 out of 10.
Conclusion: A touching and relaxing story with a strong sense of realism that will captivate you almost instantly. Adding up all my previous scores, it merits an 8.5, but since MyAnimeList seems stuck in 2005 and doesn't allow decimals, the final grade is an 8. It's very good, but a 9 feels too high when considering other works by the same mangaka that are superior.
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