There were a few bright spots, but for the most part, the story and dialogue felt like a mere means to an end, a vehicle to reach those fleeting moments. I must attribute part of my dissatisfaction to the translation; some lines were awkward and seemed plucked from a list of "acceptable translations of X_concept." On the flip side, given the sheer number of subplots—this being the mangaka's transgression—the moments felt crowded together, leaving little room to breathe. This isn't to say the narrative lacked flow, but it was densely packed. And I suspect Ogasawara-sensei was aware of this, which is why she compensated in one of the funniest ways imaginable. To ensure all plot points were covered within her page limit, the multi-page sex sequences served a dual purpose. There's hardly any of the usual, "lift your hips," "it's all the way in," or "you're already like this." Also absent is the predictable cascade of "ahs" and "nns." Instead, we get full-blown conversations about promises, stage performances, and past lovers. Or my personal favorite, "That's why I don't want you to overdose and die." Yes, talk dirty to me.
Beneath the myriad storylines lies a solid tale that I genuinely enjoyed and would have appreciated even more without the cramming. I believe Virtuoso could have benefited from a second volume. I wonder if one exists. There's a title on Ogasawara-sensei's MU page, Jounetsu no Virtuoso. The characters on the cover resemble Kenzo and Lorenzo, and there's the title, of course. Additionally, Virtuoso was first published in 2005 by one Japanese publisher and then reissued by another in 2008; the same publisher released Jounetsu in 2008 as well. These details suggest it might be a continuation, yet neither title lists the other as a "Related Series" on its detail page. Does anyone know? Regardless, it's a decent story that, with an additional 25 to 50 pages, could have easily earned a 4.0 rating.
I really wanted to enjoy this more. The cover is striking and captivating, and the back blurb definitely set expectations for something different than what was delivered. Unfortunately, the storytelling felt awkward and disjointed, making it difficult for me to fully grasp. It certainly wasn't the intricate musical game of cat-and-mouse that I had anticipated.
To start with, there's an overwhelming amount of exposition in the opening pages that lacks clarity. Information is dumped on the reader without any buildup—similar to the romance that unfolds later. As the narrative progresses, the central conflict becomes increasingly hard to follow, and at times, it’s unclear what the actual conflict should be. If Lorenzo dislikes being exploited by performers, why does he allow it? What benefit does he derive from such situations? Is he simply weak-willed?
Moreover, why does Kenzo remain invested enough in Lorenzo to keep fulfilling his requests, even though he's aware that Lorenzo is breaching their agreement? The two characters don’t exhibit much chemistry or convincing interaction. Their initial encounter happens abruptly, and Kenzo's emotions seem to arise without sufficient foundation.
The plot feels disorganized and confusing, which is unfortunate because all the elements for a compelling story are present; they're just arranged in an odd manner, often failing to cohere. In the second half, we're introduced to an aspect of the story that should have been emphasized earlier: Lorenzo's drug habit. It's disappointing that this element was introduced so late and not utilized to its full potential, as it could have added depth beyond "Lorenzo doesn't play piano and no one knows why." Additionally, Lorenzo's connection to the piano remains perplexing, which seems crucial in a tale centered around the characters' relationship with music.
This work had the potential to be a touching and refined contribution to a genre frequently criticized as crude and clichéd, but the story is too muddled and bewildering. That said, I did appreciate the beautiful artwork. (Though there were some panels where 3-D renders were clearly used for objects and appeared out of place. But considering it was 2005, I can overlook that.)<p>
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Stick with western novels
Beneath the myriad storylines lies a solid tale that I genuinely enjoyed and would have appreciated even more without the cramming. I believe Virtuoso could have benefited from a second volume. I wonder if one exists. There's a title on Ogasawara-sensei's MU page, Jounetsu no Virtuoso. The characters on the cover resemble Kenzo and Lorenzo, and there's the title, of course. Additionally, Virtuoso was first published in 2005 by one Japanese publisher and then reissued by another in 2008; the same publisher released Jounetsu in 2008 as well. These details suggest it might be a continuation, yet neither title lists the other as a "Related Series" on its detail page. Does anyone know? Regardless, it's a decent story that, with an additional 25 to 50 pages, could have easily earned a 4.0 rating.
Feel free to read the full review on my site.
To start with, there's an overwhelming amount of exposition in the opening pages that lacks clarity. Information is dumped on the reader without any buildup—similar to the romance that unfolds later. As the narrative progresses, the central conflict becomes increasingly hard to follow, and at times, it’s unclear what the actual conflict should be. If Lorenzo dislikes being exploited by performers, why does he allow it? What benefit does he derive from such situations? Is he simply weak-willed?
Moreover, why does Kenzo remain invested enough in Lorenzo to keep fulfilling his requests, even though he's aware that Lorenzo is breaching their agreement? The two characters don’t exhibit much chemistry or convincing interaction. Their initial encounter happens abruptly, and Kenzo's emotions seem to arise without sufficient foundation.
The plot feels disorganized and confusing, which is unfortunate because all the elements for a compelling story are present; they're just arranged in an odd manner, often failing to cohere. In the second half, we're introduced to an aspect of the story that should have been emphasized earlier: Lorenzo's drug habit. It's disappointing that this element was introduced so late and not utilized to its full potential, as it could have added depth beyond "Lorenzo doesn't play piano and no one knows why." Additionally, Lorenzo's connection to the piano remains perplexing, which seems crucial in a tale centered around the characters' relationship with music.
This work had the potential to be a touching and refined contribution to a genre frequently criticized as crude and clichéd, but the story is too muddled and bewildering. That said, I did appreciate the beautiful artwork. (Though there were some panels where 3-D renders were clearly used for objects and appeared out of place. But considering it was 2005, I can overlook that.)<p>