Genius Mage Who Uses Fists

I loved this book it would be interesting to se a sequel revolving around the kids

Before I dive into this, let me start by saying I'm still dissecting the first Ghost in the Shell and don't feel like I fully grasp it. However, even when I struggled to completely follow it, I could sense its essence and vision. This time around, though, I genuinely had no clue what I was reading. The characters, the world, and the plot—beyond the basic premise—were pretty much lost on me. So why did I give it a 7? Honestly, I might drop it to a 6. What I do appreciate is the art. It's not as polished as the original, but it's incredibly cool to look at, especially the scenes set in the AI world. This is a tough one to review since I've only read it once, and this installment reinforces the common belief that this franchise demands multiple readings to absorb everything. As it stands, this feels like my idea of a stoner manga: an overly complex plot filled with sci-fi jargon, but highly stylish with unique art that’s perfect for tripping out to, and it doesn't take too long to read.  

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If you found the technobabble in the original manga confusing, this sequel takes it to a whole new level. While I managed to follow the plot of the first volume somewhat, this one is saturated with technical jargon that only the most tech-savvy readers would fully grasp. A significant portion of the narrative revolves around the protagonist's relentless exposition of complex information.

Regarding the characters, much of the story follows our hero—Matoko from the first volume merged with the puppeteer identifying as "Matoko Aramaki"—as they leap between various stored puppet bodies scattered across the globe to combat crime in vigilante fashion. As one reader pointed out during a Q&A in one of the volumes, this constant shifting makes it challenging to establish a connection with the character. It's often unclear which body belongs to Aramaki, and even when it is, her appearance frequently changes due to these transitions.

Despite the overwhelming technobabble, convoluted political subplots, and the difficulty in forming an attachment to the main character, there are some intriguing spiritual concepts introduced in the final chapters—or rather, parts of chapters, given how they seem to be divided.

In conclusion, I don't foresee myself revisiting this manga. However, if you're a dedicated Ghost in the Shell enthusiast with a solid understanding of computer applications and viruses, you might appreciate Man-Machine Interface.

There exists a world inundated with technology, its boundaries indistinct and unknowable. The question of the connection between man and machine is no longer relevant; it's an accepted truth. We are poised at the brink of immense transformation, and somewhere within the dark, unfathomable depths, something awaits us. So where do we proceed from here? This is the world of Ghost in the Shell. It mirrors our own reality.

If the original manga positioned us on a hill overlooking this vast ocean, Ghost in the Shell 2: Man-Machine Interface situates us right on the shoreline where the tides ebb and flow. Motoko Kusanagi concluded the first manga by taking a step towards humanity's transcendence. In this sequel, she takes another stride forward.

Almost five years have elapsed since her fusion with the Puppeteer and departure from Section 9 to explore the Net. Now serving as head of security for Poseidon Industrial, she appears almost transformed. Her expertise in cyberwarfare has grown, her self-assurance is more pronounced, and she exhibits more business acumen than her previous persona as a brash combatant. Yet, ties to her past remain evident, particularly in her current name: Motoko Aramaki.

The theme of identity remains consistent since Masamune Shirow's initial narrative. If anything, it highlights how much Motoko's sense of self has become blurred and the lengths to which she is prepared to preserve—or even discard—it. Throughout the story, she utilizes over half-a-dozen prosthetic bodies. While occasionally physically recognizable to fans, her 'main' body is unfamiliar.

Her ease in switching forms prompts the question: who is Motoko now? This inquiry yields a thought-provoking (and mind-blowing) conclusion but also represents the first obstacle that may frustrate enthusiasts of other GITS adaptations.

It cannot be emphasized enough that this is not a direct continuation of the original. Though it indeed follows the "what comes next" of the original plot, don't anticipate more of the same. Motoko isn't entirely the Major you've come to admire; Section 9 is barely present, merely hinted at in the background. Consequently, you likely won't encounter your favorite characters—nor will they collaborate to thwart cyber-terrorists and uphold public security.

Shirow himself authored a preface to this manga, humorously titled 'Warning: Read Me First!', conveying much the same message. He alerts us to its novelty. He informs us it diverges from expectations. He even apologizes for these differences and hopes we'll give it a chance!

And if hacking cyberbrains, battling cybernetic entities, and watching the resilient Motoko deliver such action excites you: you really, truly should.

To describe the artwork here as beautiful, breathtaking, and Shirow's finest work yet might seem inadequate. Such superlatives fall short of capturing how astonishing each panel appears. Two-thirds of the manga's pages (200 in total!) are fully colored. Color bursts forth vibrantly. It transitions artistically between black-and-white panels, blending seamlessly. And this isn't merely Shirow painting inside rich ink lines. This involves digital imaging merged flawlessly with his consistently excellent drawings. It evokes the same vibrant energy seen when Kurosawa transitioned to color film—the same anticipated greatness but with spellbinding visual allure.

Like Motoko, give him the opportunity, and he will astound you.

The fanservice is—as one might suspect—pervasive, extensive, and likely filling your thoughts. Few pages lack carefully angled depictions of posteriors, busts, or intimate regions. In cyberspace, Motoko frequently appears nude—minus explicit details. Initially, this omission might seem distracting, yet it emphasizes form over function, transforming Motoko's body into art rather than just a biological mechanism. Yes, I use 'biological' loosely here.

Man-Machine Interface is an intellectually stimulating yet perplexing work. It is exhilarating yet challenging. Cyberwarfare battles span numerous pages, filled with techno-jargon demanding patience, careful consideration, and multiple readings. Comprehension can falter. Similarly, the narrative rarely pauses, and even when it does, events may not always be clear. It poses many questions and compels readers to uncover answers, even when those answers stare them in the face. There's a dense, almost impenetrable realism: all characters grasp the world and its workings, but that doesn't guarantee your understanding.

Ultimately, this aspect will either alienate or captivate you. That seems intentional. There's a concept known as the 'technological singularity': the juncture where conventional paradigms collapse, necessitating new models to comprehend the prevailing paradigm. Ironically, this new understanding surpasses our intelligence. Like showing a movie to a Neanderthal or explaining a computer to an Elizabethan, there's simply no reliable frame of reference to fully convey your comprehension of these concepts to them.

This 'lost in translation' essence saturates the work and lies at the core of Motoko's endeavor to reconcile man with machine. The question resides in the subtitle. "Man-Machine Interface." What constitutes that interface? Is it the gateway to the Net? Is it merely the amalgamation of a cyborg body with a human mind? Could it be Motoko herself?

Still, we stand, feet submerged in the ocean. We know it's feasible, but can we adapt? What does transcending ourselves entail? Would we recognize what to seek? Would we even identify ourselves? Motoko refrains from answering. But through her journey, in that reluctance, she seems to urge readiness. To await the incoming tide. To heed the rise of a great wave. To act then by discarding the confines of our shell.

Dive deep.

This is the only hentai on my bookshelf...

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This isn't even a proper Ghost in the Shell (GiTS); it's just hentai. The story is completely jumbled (just like my review). You have no idea what's going on. I'm actually a pretty big fan of GiTS, but to be honest, this is the worst manga I've ever read. The plot is nearly impossible to follow, and I found no enjoyment in it at all.

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The only redeeming quality is the art. There are naked or half-naked women on almost every page.

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I can't recommend this to anyone. Here's my rating:

Story: 1  
Art: 3  
Characters: 2  
Enjoyment: 2  
Overall: 3 (out of pity)

All of the other GiS and Gis:SAC anime and manga share strong resemblances, but this one stands out as very different.  

Set several years after the earlier manga, the world has undergone significant changes. The Major, now merged with the Puppeteer, exists as a disembodied consciousness somewhere on the web. However, she occasionally merges with other fragments of consciousness, creating "children," each a separate entity. One of these, identifying itself as "Motoko Arimaki" (though the Major refers to it differently), leads a global corporation. This entity has strategically placed various cyborg shells, each with unique capabilities, across the globe for her use. The corporation faces attacks from unknown adversaries, and the manga primarily revolves around Motoko Arimaki uncovering and addressing these threats. Section Nine's role is limited to deploying a new psychic character to observe, report, and intervene in the situation.  

The plot is highly intricate, requiring me to reread sections multiple times to fully grasp the events. It raises profound questions about consciousness and identity, and their potential interactions with technology.  

Highly recommended. And, yes, there is a panty shot on nearly every page.  

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It's beyond me how this manga can be so bad. The art is truly terrible. I understand that 3D CGI might be easier or refreshing in the manga world, but wow, does it look awful. Overall, it feels like the author didn't put much effort into the manga because even without the CGI, it seems like he just copy-pasted generic characters onto some vague backgrounds. The story is practically non-existent. You won't find anything enjoyable or good here. It's the worst manga I've read so far.  

By the way, I'll leave this here too. Masamune Shirow should be kissing Mamoru Oshii's feet because he took Shirow's mediocre manga and turned it into almost a masterpiece. I'm not gonna lie; reading the books after watching the film was a real disappointment.  

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It took me 22 years and numerous readings before I felt like I truly "got" the original Ghost in the Shell, and perhaps the same will happen with its sequel. But for now, after my first read-through, my initial impression is simply one of complete confusion.  

The dialogue is thick with technical, political, economic, and philosophical terminology. Honestly, I found it nearly impossible to follow what was happening in the story at any given moment. If understanding Motoko's reasons for going somewhere or doing something is this challenging, there’s no way I can grasp the larger plot. The author's notes that sporadically appear in the margins offer a bit of assistance, but they’re an awkward fix at best.  

For a series renowned for its badass weaponry, intense shootouts, and dynamic fight scenes, there’s surprisingly little action to be found here. Most "action" sequences merely depict Motoko's naked, ephemeral form drifting through cyberspace as she issues commands about viruses, mazes, and defensive barriers. This continues for page after page. While the artist may have succeeded in visually representing hacker battles in the year 2035, the result isn’t particularly thrilling or engaging.  

Masamune's artwork remains impressive even today, but with hindsight, I must admit his anatomy can be a bit off; there are Rob Liefeld-like waistlines everywhere, and countless panels seem deliberately framed to highlight butts or crotches. Interpret that as you wish. Masamune was undoubtedly one of the early adopters of computers in manga creation, so you’ll encounter plenty of CG models and coloring. Some of it works well, but the occasional black-and-white pages feel like a refreshing treat.  

I’m not a die-hard Ghost in the Shell fan, but I’ve always been curious enough to dip into the series from time to time. Based on my limited exposure, this ranks among the weaker entries. It has its strengths, but it might take a few years before I attempt to unravel it again.