The theatrical elite that seek to shape Maya’s destiny have, quite literally, no regard for her genetic family, only for how her social relations might be reshaped so as to further their own ends. Similarly, as we see in the kindai period, education, particularly those educational institutions created to serve elite/bourgeois ends, fractures family in service of a society largely beyond the individual’s control but to which the state demands a precise form of obeisance. Contemporary Japanese society has not escaped this mobilization of shōjo culture–if anything, it has simply adopted a new mask.
Mononoke is for many, once even for myself, a sacred object, a relic that embodies a transcendent anime ideal and to which, much like the bones of martyrs, the “true fan” must pay obeisance after a long pilgrimage. Even now with my ideological misgivings I have to admit that the film is breathtakingly beautiful, its pacing clear and direct–it tells its story well. But the question as to whether it’s a good story, one that bears the ceremonious retelling that an anniversary would seem to demand, remains an open question.
There were–and remain–then, two forms of sexual expression that were both mandated and directly overseen by the Imperial (now “democratic”) state: motherhood and prostitution. With motherhood, the state controlled the means of reproduction, the means by which imperial subjects were created and inculcated with certain values. Prostitution was sanctioned by the state in order to appease the all male military and keep them in line. Stability in the military was important given the frequency with which splinter factions within it mounted insurrections meant to “restore the Emperor,” a polite euphemism for “our ruling on his behalf.”
As the result of a recent spike in traffic, despite me not having posted anything in quite some time, I noticed, through the wonders of analytics, that a MOOC which shall remain nameless had identified me as a critic of Frenchy Lunning or, more specifically, as a critic of her conception of “the shōjo,” which I have to cop to, since the evidence for it is as plain as day. This identification also caused me to wonder whether it had anything to do with Professor Lunning putting in an appearance in the comments a full three years after the post to which she was responding had been posted, though, I suppose, it could just have been a coincidence.
In the spirit of translative promiscuity, letting no one way of doing things become an ossified norm, I thought this week I might make use of a selection of translated single page manga from Rakuten’s oeuvre to illustrate an argument in that way that used to be my weekly habit not so long ago.
It is, perhaps, a bit unfair, even if useful and necessary sometimes, to pick apart someone else’s translation, to linger creepily over its supposed faults, and generally slap it about with the sloppy phallus of your smug superiority. I myself only started to eschew these bouts of accusatory dick-waving once I had spent a considerable […]
There is quite a bit to unpack in this week’s offerings, so I’ll leave my commentary for next week. For now, I hope you enjoy the [comic]!