I read this book after finishing "Children of the Sea" by the same mangaka, which I absolutely adored. Now that I've completed "Witches," I have mixed feelings about it. I believe the stories in the second half of the book are much stronger than those in the first half. If all the stories maintained that level of quality, I would rate it an 8/10. I'd say the first half of the book ranges from 5-6/10, with the opening story not being one of the better ones.
The surrealism is really enjoyable, and the art is decent (if you appreciate the artist's style—it can be a bit scratchy or drafty at times). Compared to "Children of the Sea," many of the panels can be difficult to follow, and the flow of the stories is often awkward. At times, it was hard to figure out exactly what was happening, and I had to read through and piece things together. Sometimes it feels like there are too many frames for a specific part of the story, while other times it seems like crucial ones were omitted. The shorter stories really suffer from this and also feel either half-baked or lacking a real fun "point." I can certainly appreciate slice-of-life stories, but the shorter ones here don't quite fit that category. They seem more as though they had a point to make, but it was either too superficially presented or poorly executed to have the desired impact.
The three longest stories in the book are the best and elevate the rest to the "worth reading" category. I think if you've read other works by the mangaka and enjoy their art style, this is worth checking out. However, it is indeed an anthology series with no real connection between stories (it said they were interconnected, but they're not), and I generally find it inferior to "Children of the Sea" in most aspects.
If you enjoyed "Children of the Sea," approach this book with no expectations of similar quality. If you didn't quite like this book, don't let it deter you from trying "Children of the Sea" (unless you disliked the art style, which is largely similar).<p>
Witches stands as a remarkable creation of vision and surrealism. Prior to this, I read Children of the Sea by Daisuke Igarashi, and they share numerous overlapping themes. These encompass the insufficiency of language in portraying non-dual ultimate reality, ancient cultural myths pointing towards profound metaphysical truths, and the ecological world harboring concealed spiritual elements.
This omnibus contains four primary narratives. Each centers on an individual witch, featuring oneiric, surreal plot developments; some are striking, while others leave a haunting impression. Every tale challenges the reader's perception of normalcy, prompting them to question the universe's nature and their position within it. Daisuke Igarashi's breathtaking artwork effectively conveys these themes.
Each story concludes tragically for a particular character. However, it is conveyed symbolically, encouraging readers to learn from both the pleasures and adversities of living in harmony with nature. Moreover, this book fosters a greater respect for the human body, which serves as nature's sanctuary.
Certain sections may appear overly instructional, yet I found it acceptable since it contributed to the ambiance. I'll end this review with a quote from the third narrative:
"Life originates in the stars. Planets perish and transform into dust.
Somewhere, they are collected once more and blended afresh.
They emerge as a new planet, only to perish again.
The memory of life is imprinted in all things...
Within the cycle."
I sincerely hope Seven Seas continues translating and publishing more of Daisuke Igarashi's masterpieces in the future!
TL;DR: This manga distorts and misrepresents foreign cultures for the sake of a stylish aesthetic. It spreads misinformation due to poor or no research. It's essentially an orientalist work I wouldn't recommend to anyone.
I was perhaps fortunate to be familiar with the setting of the first story, Turkey, as it is so wildly inaccurate that it reads like a piece of orientalist literature. That meant I didn’t read the rest of the stories that would have misinformed me about cultures I know less about. This work is part of a genre that distorts foreign cultures for outsiders to marvel at, and one that I find no value in. Elements of the story and the setting are pieced together from disjointed information. It mixes time periods in Turkish history and presents a nonsensical version of Turkish culture. The story apparently takes place sometime in the 70s but nothing is consistent with that period in Turkey.
The most glaring example is Istanbul being called the capital, which is not only a mistake no Turkish person would make but shows that the writer apparently couldn’t even bother to look at a map. We are shown the story of a girl with a spindle, living 1000km away from the "capital," Istanbul. So she isn’t even Turkish, but a Kurdish villager. We are then told that their "tribe" is nomadic and shown that they dress in Central Asian style Turkic clothing. She then takes a truck alone to the capital and is ordered to buy "rennet" by her mother while there.
Now, none of this makes any sense. By the 70s there weren’t any nomadic tribes in Eastern Anatolia, and if they were they wouldn’t be herding sheep in Central Asian clothing. A small Kurdish girl wouldn’t be allowed to travel to Istanbul alone, as the Kurdish society is highly patriarchal and at that time in a remote village familial bonds and rules would govern that kid's life. Also, those poor villagers couldn’t afford to make leisure trips to Istanbul, they just wouldn’t have the funds. Even though the age of the girl isn’t stated she is clearly over 6 years old meaning her family doesn’t send her to mandatory primary school a family like that isn’t going to tolerate a woman, let alone a girl, going to some faraway city alone. She would also be taken in by a state official to be returned to her family when her papers are checked since she would be a runaway, and she couldn’t leave her province, let alone enter Istanbul without having that happen. And finally, she would not only not need to buy “rennet” from Istanbul she would also know what it is. Because it is called “peynir mayası,” literally meaning "cheese yeast," in Turkish. It is produced using the stomachs of cows and sheep etc. So it would be produced in the provinces where this girl originates from, where animal farming is done, and she would be more likely to sell it than buy it in Istanbul. Of course, if she were speaking Kurdish maybe this wouldn’t be the case since it is also called “rennet” in Kurdish, but not only does she speak Turkish, as she has no communication problems, that would still mean she wouldn’t need to buy it from Istanbul.
This is all the issues in just the first few pages. The Istanbul storyline of a witch trying to buy out the grand bazaar and build a shopping mall there is also nonsensical. The grand bazaar is a shopping district, not a corporation. The stores there would deal in gold, foreign currency, spices, clothing, etc. It isn’t something someone controls or something that can be demolished without state approval and probably great protests. So the villain's motivation doesn’t make sense.
Now we come to the strangest part where the villain attempts to give a history lesson based on orientalist books and tourist brochures and apparently nothing else. We see the Hagia Sophia where she is criticized for being in because it is a place of faith, and then she goes on about the changes that happened there when it became a “temple.” But in the 70s the Hagia Sophia was a museum, she would have had to get in line and buy a ticket to enter. It wasn’t a place of faith. She also talks about how the last Byzantine emperor is buried in the Basilica Cistern and that is why it is called “sarayı,” meaning “palace,” and not because of the pillars. However, it isn’t called that at all, it is called the “Yerebatan Sarnıcı,” which literally translates to “Yerebatan Cistern.” It also wouldn’t have any statues, or even water in it in 1970, and doesn’t today. This truly baffles me as they must have picked up a Turkish dictionary to look up “saray” but apparently either lacked the ability to read or didn’t even do the most basic research.
There are more mistakes in her “history” lessons for example Empress Anastasia wasn’t murdered, even though her husband was murdered. How Janissaries weren’t bodyguards but were the standing infantry army of the Ottoman empire under the direct command of the Sultan. Literally, every single piece of "information" about Turkey or Turkish culture is either wrong or misrepresented in some way.
Now there are also general mistakes in the manga like a street seller selling mineral water, and a girl from Eastern Anatolia, where mineral water is produced, not knowing what it is. Also, she pays “50 Lira” which equated to ~3.5 USD, nearly 20 USD in today's dollars, and around half a week’s wages for a salaried employee at the time for a glass of it. Also, the tea trays shown in the manga are inaccurate, they aren’t literal trays they have a handle on top, and they are quite distinctive. And there is a hilarious example where the villain purchases sheep heads and while eating them says she is eating “koyun başı” which is the literal translation of “sheep head” but is incorrect. The correct translation would be “kelle” which also means head. However “baş” is also used to indicate the head of a penis in Turkish, so since you wouldn’t say “baş” for the sheep’s actual head she is saying she is eating a sheep’s penis.
I haven’t talked about the story as there is barely any besides the villain being rejected then dishing out misinformation and then being defeated by the girl. The main draw is clearly supposed to be the distorted version of Istanbul and Turkey since the story is so incredibly simple when you remove that "flair." That is what an entire culture is reduced to in this manga, a cool mysterious foreign background for a simple story and a shoehorned message.
I would recommend this to no one and would recommend something that takes its setting seriously and bothers to do research about it instead of misrepresenting a foreign culture and reducing it to a cool aesthetic for foreigners to gawk at. I rate this manga sheep penis out of 10.
Witches is a collection of short stories that exist within the same universe, linked by shared themes.
Among these themes, the most significant is the notion that humans are incapable of perceiving the true nature of reality. This idea is uniquely articulated in one story: an ordinary person explores their room, believing they know every corner from wall to wall; a wise individual opens the door to discover an entire house, dedicating their life to unraveling its mysteries; all the while, everyone leaves the windows closed, unaware of the vast world outside or the infinite expanse beyond the planet.
The artwork conveys these concepts far more elegantly than the dialogue. Backgrounds, in particular, exhibit meticulous attention to detail. Cities, houses, trees, vehicles, oceans, and clothing are rendered in a manner that is both realistic and surreal. In one instance, a neighborhood might appear to melt as if crafted from super-heated plastic, creating a stark contrast with the restrained character designs; in another scene, these seemingly plain characters are depicted alongside fantastical creatures, blending seamlessly with elements far removed from ordinary existence.
There are moments when the manga's humble origins become apparent. These typically manifest as inconsistent facial expressions, a surprising artistic flaw given the effort invested in most panels. However, these imperfections can be easily overlooked due to the exceptional quality of the drawings and the likelihood that the author cannot afford many (if any) assistants.
The greatest weaknesses of Witches lie in its predictable and underdeveloped characters. Personalities often feel generic, added merely out of necessity. More troubling is the recurring dynamic between a knowledgeable character and an ignorant one, which stems from the writing's didactic nature. In this context, the wise figure represents the author, while the uninformed one symbolizes the reader. While being didactic isn't inherently negative, an artist of Daisuke Igarashi's caliber has no need to explicitly articulate every detail.
When the visuals take center stage, Witches achieves sublimity. Unfortunately, this level of excellence does not consistently extend to the manga as a whole, particularly in terms of writing, pacing, and structural diversity. Despite these shortcomings, it remains a worthwhile read and is undeniably good.
Majo (also known as Witch) is a truly delightful masterpiece. I first discovered it when I learned that Tatsuki Fujimoto drew inspiration from it while creating Chainsaw Man. So, I thought, "If Fujimoto was influenced by this, it must be an interesting manga," and I decided to give it a try. Before starting the manga, I did a bit of research to see if there was anything I should know. Unfortunately, Majo is a rather obscure manga, so I could barely find any reviews or comments about it. One of the few things I did learn was its length—around 7 chapters—and I was initially disappointed upon hearing that. Many short manga series I've read in the past were lackluster, no matter how much potential they had. But I didn't let that deter me, and I started reading it anyway. The result was unexpectedly fantastic. I fell in love with this manga. Everything about it was great.
First of all, Majo is an anthology series, with each story centered around witches and witchcraft. Despite the large amount of dialogue in each chapter, the stories are incredibly unique and immersive. The monster and spirit designs are grotesque and absurd, which adds to their intrigue. I have to say, the entire manga gave me strong vibes reminiscent of Neil Gaiman's stories. There's a mix of mystery, thriller, horror, yet oddly enough, joy and happiness. The creature designs also bear a striking resemblance to some beasts from his Sandman and Graveyard Book stories. Since Majo features multiple stories, I'll focus on my favorite among them.
The first two chapters revolve around a girl who has learned witchcraft and travels to a distant city—actually Istanbul, located in Turkey—to confront a witch there. Given the setting in Turkey, I anticipated content rooted in Turkish mythology. Instead, we receive a history lesson about Constantine. This story is rich with symbolism tied to Christianity and Judaism. The background and creature designs are unusual and quite captivating. It certainly left a lasting impression on me, and I loved it. The other stories are special in their own right, but I believe the best of them all is this first one.
I won't spoil the rest of the manga for you. Go read it yourself—it's definitely worth your time.
Popular Reviews
The surrealism is really enjoyable, and the art is decent (if you appreciate the artist's style—it can be a bit scratchy or drafty at times). Compared to "Children of the Sea," many of the panels can be difficult to follow, and the flow of the stories is often awkward. At times, it was hard to figure out exactly what was happening, and I had to read through and piece things together. Sometimes it feels like there are too many frames for a specific part of the story, while other times it seems like crucial ones were omitted. The shorter stories really suffer from this and also feel either half-baked or lacking a real fun "point." I can certainly appreciate slice-of-life stories, but the shorter ones here don't quite fit that category. They seem more as though they had a point to make, but it was either too superficially presented or poorly executed to have the desired impact.
The three longest stories in the book are the best and elevate the rest to the "worth reading" category. I think if you've read other works by the mangaka and enjoy their art style, this is worth checking out. However, it is indeed an anthology series with no real connection between stories (it said they were interconnected, but they're not), and I generally find it inferior to "Children of the Sea" in most aspects.
If you enjoyed "Children of the Sea," approach this book with no expectations of similar quality. If you didn't quite like this book, don't let it deter you from trying "Children of the Sea" (unless you disliked the art style, which is largely similar).<p>
This omnibus contains four primary narratives. Each centers on an individual witch, featuring oneiric, surreal plot developments; some are striking, while others leave a haunting impression. Every tale challenges the reader's perception of normalcy, prompting them to question the universe's nature and their position within it. Daisuke Igarashi's breathtaking artwork effectively conveys these themes.
Each story concludes tragically for a particular character. However, it is conveyed symbolically, encouraging readers to learn from both the pleasures and adversities of living in harmony with nature. Moreover, this book fosters a greater respect for the human body, which serves as nature's sanctuary.
Certain sections may appear overly instructional, yet I found it acceptable since it contributed to the ambiance. I'll end this review with a quote from the third narrative:
"Life originates in the stars. Planets perish and transform into dust.
Somewhere, they are collected once more and blended afresh.
They emerge as a new planet, only to perish again.
The memory of life is imprinted in all things...
Within the cycle."
I sincerely hope Seven Seas continues translating and publishing more of Daisuke Igarashi's masterpieces in the future!
I was perhaps fortunate to be familiar with the setting of the first story, Turkey, as it is so wildly inaccurate that it reads like a piece of orientalist literature. That meant I didn’t read the rest of the stories that would have misinformed me about cultures I know less about. This work is part of a genre that distorts foreign cultures for outsiders to marvel at, and one that I find no value in. Elements of the story and the setting are pieced together from disjointed information. It mixes time periods in Turkish history and presents a nonsensical version of Turkish culture. The story apparently takes place sometime in the 70s but nothing is consistent with that period in Turkey.
The most glaring example is Istanbul being called the capital, which is not only a mistake no Turkish person would make but shows that the writer apparently couldn’t even bother to look at a map. We are shown the story of a girl with a spindle, living 1000km away from the "capital," Istanbul. So she isn’t even Turkish, but a Kurdish villager. We are then told that their "tribe" is nomadic and shown that they dress in Central Asian style Turkic clothing. She then takes a truck alone to the capital and is ordered to buy "rennet" by her mother while there.
Now, none of this makes any sense. By the 70s there weren’t any nomadic tribes in Eastern Anatolia, and if they were they wouldn’t be herding sheep in Central Asian clothing. A small Kurdish girl wouldn’t be allowed to travel to Istanbul alone, as the Kurdish society is highly patriarchal and at that time in a remote village familial bonds and rules would govern that kid's life. Also, those poor villagers couldn’t afford to make leisure trips to Istanbul, they just wouldn’t have the funds. Even though the age of the girl isn’t stated she is clearly over 6 years old meaning her family doesn’t send her to mandatory primary school a family like that isn’t going to tolerate a woman, let alone a girl, going to some faraway city alone. She would also be taken in by a state official to be returned to her family when her papers are checked since she would be a runaway, and she couldn’t leave her province, let alone enter Istanbul without having that happen. And finally, she would not only not need to buy “rennet” from Istanbul she would also know what it is. Because it is called “peynir mayası,” literally meaning "cheese yeast," in Turkish. It is produced using the stomachs of cows and sheep etc. So it would be produced in the provinces where this girl originates from, where animal farming is done, and she would be more likely to sell it than buy it in Istanbul. Of course, if she were speaking Kurdish maybe this wouldn’t be the case since it is also called “rennet” in Kurdish, but not only does she speak Turkish, as she has no communication problems, that would still mean she wouldn’t need to buy it from Istanbul.
This is all the issues in just the first few pages. The Istanbul storyline of a witch trying to buy out the grand bazaar and build a shopping mall there is also nonsensical. The grand bazaar is a shopping district, not a corporation. The stores there would deal in gold, foreign currency, spices, clothing, etc. It isn’t something someone controls or something that can be demolished without state approval and probably great protests. So the villain's motivation doesn’t make sense.
Now we come to the strangest part where the villain attempts to give a history lesson based on orientalist books and tourist brochures and apparently nothing else. We see the Hagia Sophia where she is criticized for being in because it is a place of faith, and then she goes on about the changes that happened there when it became a “temple.” But in the 70s the Hagia Sophia was a museum, she would have had to get in line and buy a ticket to enter. It wasn’t a place of faith. She also talks about how the last Byzantine emperor is buried in the Basilica Cistern and that is why it is called “sarayı,” meaning “palace,” and not because of the pillars. However, it isn’t called that at all, it is called the “Yerebatan Sarnıcı,” which literally translates to “Yerebatan Cistern.” It also wouldn’t have any statues, or even water in it in 1970, and doesn’t today. This truly baffles me as they must have picked up a Turkish dictionary to look up “saray” but apparently either lacked the ability to read or didn’t even do the most basic research.
There are more mistakes in her “history” lessons for example Empress Anastasia wasn’t murdered, even though her husband was murdered. How Janissaries weren’t bodyguards but were the standing infantry army of the Ottoman empire under the direct command of the Sultan. Literally, every single piece of "information" about Turkey or Turkish culture is either wrong or misrepresented in some way.
Now there are also general mistakes in the manga like a street seller selling mineral water, and a girl from Eastern Anatolia, where mineral water is produced, not knowing what it is. Also, she pays “50 Lira” which equated to ~3.5 USD, nearly 20 USD in today's dollars, and around half a week’s wages for a salaried employee at the time for a glass of it. Also, the tea trays shown in the manga are inaccurate, they aren’t literal trays they have a handle on top, and they are quite distinctive. And there is a hilarious example where the villain purchases sheep heads and while eating them says she is eating “koyun başı” which is the literal translation of “sheep head” but is incorrect. The correct translation would be “kelle” which also means head. However “baş” is also used to indicate the head of a penis in Turkish, so since you wouldn’t say “baş” for the sheep’s actual head she is saying she is eating a sheep’s penis.
I haven’t talked about the story as there is barely any besides the villain being rejected then dishing out misinformation and then being defeated by the girl. The main draw is clearly supposed to be the distorted version of Istanbul and Turkey since the story is so incredibly simple when you remove that "flair." That is what an entire culture is reduced to in this manga, a cool mysterious foreign background for a simple story and a shoehorned message.
I would recommend this to no one and would recommend something that takes its setting seriously and bothers to do research about it instead of misrepresenting a foreign culture and reducing it to a cool aesthetic for foreigners to gawk at. I rate this manga sheep penis out of 10.
Among these themes, the most significant is the notion that humans are incapable of perceiving the true nature of reality. This idea is uniquely articulated in one story: an ordinary person explores their room, believing they know every corner from wall to wall; a wise individual opens the door to discover an entire house, dedicating their life to unraveling its mysteries; all the while, everyone leaves the windows closed, unaware of the vast world outside or the infinite expanse beyond the planet.
The artwork conveys these concepts far more elegantly than the dialogue. Backgrounds, in particular, exhibit meticulous attention to detail. Cities, houses, trees, vehicles, oceans, and clothing are rendered in a manner that is both realistic and surreal. In one instance, a neighborhood might appear to melt as if crafted from super-heated plastic, creating a stark contrast with the restrained character designs; in another scene, these seemingly plain characters are depicted alongside fantastical creatures, blending seamlessly with elements far removed from ordinary existence.
There are moments when the manga's humble origins become apparent. These typically manifest as inconsistent facial expressions, a surprising artistic flaw given the effort invested in most panels. However, these imperfections can be easily overlooked due to the exceptional quality of the drawings and the likelihood that the author cannot afford many (if any) assistants.
The greatest weaknesses of Witches lie in its predictable and underdeveloped characters. Personalities often feel generic, added merely out of necessity. More troubling is the recurring dynamic between a knowledgeable character and an ignorant one, which stems from the writing's didactic nature. In this context, the wise figure represents the author, while the uninformed one symbolizes the reader. While being didactic isn't inherently negative, an artist of Daisuke Igarashi's caliber has no need to explicitly articulate every detail.
When the visuals take center stage, Witches achieves sublimity. Unfortunately, this level of excellence does not consistently extend to the manga as a whole, particularly in terms of writing, pacing, and structural diversity. Despite these shortcomings, it remains a worthwhile read and is undeniably good.
First of all, Majo is an anthology series, with each story centered around witches and witchcraft. Despite the large amount of dialogue in each chapter, the stories are incredibly unique and immersive. The monster and spirit designs are grotesque and absurd, which adds to their intrigue. I have to say, the entire manga gave me strong vibes reminiscent of Neil Gaiman's stories. There's a mix of mystery, thriller, horror, yet oddly enough, joy and happiness. The creature designs also bear a striking resemblance to some beasts from his Sandman and Graveyard Book stories. Since Majo features multiple stories, I'll focus on my favorite among them.
The first two chapters revolve around a girl who has learned witchcraft and travels to a distant city—actually Istanbul, located in Turkey—to confront a witch there. Given the setting in Turkey, I anticipated content rooted in Turkish mythology. Instead, we receive a history lesson about Constantine. This story is rich with symbolism tied to Christianity and Judaism. The background and creature designs are unusual and quite captivating. It certainly left a lasting impression on me, and I loved it. The other stories are special in their own right, but I believe the best of them all is this first one.
I won't spoil the rest of the manga for you. Go read it yourself—it's definitely worth your time.