Review: Vinland Saga

This will not be a traditional review. I finished reading Vinland Saga about an hour ago, and what I mainly want to record is my profound disappointment.

Three years ago, I wrote a review of the then-ongoing series. I have not reread it before writing this, but it should explain well enough why the story once mattered to me. Vinland Saga contained one of the most powerful mid-story transformations I can remember; not necessarily because it was the finest turn ever written, but because of how completely it transformed one story into another while retaining many of the same characters. The first half followed Thorfinn as he pursued revenge and drowned his grief and rage in the life of a warrior. I loved it. The second half is where the story broke apart.

I’ll spoil the whole thing. I don’t care.

Thorfinn renounced killing and eventually came to treat armed defence itself as a betrayal of his ideals. As a personal vow, that was his prerogative. If he wanted to stand still and allow someone to batter his skull rather than kill in self-defence, he was free to do so. But Thorfinn was no longer responsible only for himself. He had accepted responsibility for an entire settlement, and he expected everyone within it to live under the consequences of his oath. He sailed across an ocean to found a colony beside native Americans whose land, customs, beliefs, fears, and political interests he could not control. He had no credible answer for what would happen when the two societies clashed over property, weapons, ethnicity, religion, ways of life. Things were already deteriorating when disease came, and it all went predictably to shit.

The quality of the writing nosedived. Characters increasingly became moral mouthpieces. Some lost most of their practical intelligence when the thesis required it.

We also got the typical “Oh God, I killed a man; I’m spiritually ruined forever” beat from a major character who had been fighting men who were killing members of his community.

My disconnect from Thorfinn became extreme. He was opaque, and not in the way of a mysterious or deep character; his motivations and feelings no longer felt human. He was certain of his philosophical position while no longer having doubts, fearing sufficiently for his family, or having guilt over the other families endangered by his ideals. His pacifism was, in reality, a dangerous moral experiment, but the manga treated it as a truth whose failures were always someone else’s fault.

There is an extraordinary version of the second half hidden inside this disappointing one: a former killer becomes convinced that violence reproduces itself. He tries to found a society upon radically different principles. Then he discovers that his personal oath isn’t the same as being responsible. He could have remained personally unwilling to kill while confronting the fact that he had brought families into a place where he couldn’t guarantee their safety, he had no authority over the natives, and had no workable response to fear, disease, or cultural incompatibility. He essentially volunteered dozens of people for martyrdom.

Now that the story is over, I mourn what it did with my favorite character: Hild. One of my favorite characters in all of manga. An independent, determined inventor who, when her family was murdered, she managed to survive on her own in the wilds. Once she rejoined a community, she used her abilities as an engineer, hunter, sniper, and protector to help those she cared about.

Hild was the moral counterweight to Thorfinn. She already had the answer to what the protagonist should have become: someone who retained the capacity for violence, understood its cost, and chose carefully when to use it.

The second half of Vinland Saga wanted to tell a profound story about discovering common humanity, yet tried to do so by making most characters involved less psychologically human. As if the author committed to the pacifism bit but couldn’t find honest ways for people to go along as the story required.

And Hild deserved more than to wave goodbye from a boat.

Review: The 100 Girlfriends Who Really, Really, Really, Really, REALLY Love You

I was watching some YouTube reactors reacting to my guilty anime pleasure of the season, Chainsmoker Cat, when one of them mentioned that this studio had also been behind 100 Girlfriends. I had never heard of that show, but the premise implied by the title intrigued me.

The anime is about a pure-hearted high school boy named Rentaro, who has been rejected by girls a hundred times. The last one said that the notion of dating him made her sick. The god of love shows up and tells Rentaro that he shouldn’t worry about love, because he’s been assigned a hundred soulmates at birth. We later find out that it was due to this very god’s absent-mindedness that Rentaro ended up with such preposterous romantic luck, but it gets more complicated: if one of his soulmates falls for him but Rentaro fails to return her feelings, she will die. Thus, our boy sets off on a journey to casually meet a hundred soulmates and make sure that he loves every single one of them.

This turned out to be my favorite romantic comedy since the classic Toradora! It sets itself apart in various ways: it doesn’t wait around for the will-they-won’t-they bullshit: he begins dating nearly every soulmate within the same episode in which she appears. The focus is on the relationship afterwards, and on the complicated dynamics of having to maintain not even two or three girlfriends at a time, but ten by the middle of the second season. The way the girls bond with each other and deal with the fact that their boyfriend is a ten-timing young man who nevertheless has unbounded love for all of them is one of the main highlights of the story. And its tone is just right up my alley: zany, deranged, delightfully perverted. Among the recurring bits, there’s a shapeshifting chemist who casually drugs the cast and also pees herself, while two of the girls maintain a quasi-open lesbian relationship everyone is aware of but nobody brings up.

I was surprised by how different the author managed to make the girls, helped by the brilliant-as-usual voice actresses. We start out with tropes like the big-breasted horny one, the tsundere, the shy bookish type, the cold and brilliant beauty, but the cast gets weirder from there, and finding out whom the protagonist ends up bringing in is one of the entertainments of the story.

The author could have made the lucky protagonist, Rentaro, a horny fiend, but he’s a genuinely-good kid whose superpower isn’t having been born with a hundred soulmates assigned to him, but his boundless capacity for love. This kid truly wants to make each of them happy. One must admire his commitment to filling his entire existence balancing the emotional demands of enough girlfriends to found a new town and possibly reinvent feudalism.

Now, there are a few things that bother me. Sometimes the show gets too cutesy, although not to the extent that I want to drop it. It also has a couple of weak episodes, particularly the “kiss zombies” bit from the first season. Also, I suspect the show was strongest near the beginning, when Rentaro had only two or three girlfriends. The intimacy gets inevitably diluted by the time you reach ten.

I have to admire both an author as well as an anime production that has promised to introduce a hundred different romantic partners in a single show. The logistics alone voice-actress-wise are unhinged.

There’s hardly a better summary of the entire show than the glorious karaoke scene from S02E07, shown below almost in its entirety:

100 Girlfriends works because it takes Rentaro’s devotion completely seriously. It may well be the best harem comedy ever made.

Chainsaw Man season two trailer

So, after the extremely popular season one and the extremely popular Reze movie, now comes season two:

It seems they won’t censor the Chinese devil hunter’s whores. The Assassins arc was amazing, so we’re in for a treat. And of course, anything Chainsaw Man-related reminds me of the fact that the second half of the story (not related to this new season) is utterly unnecessary and dogshit. I wonder if they’ll actually make an anime adaptation out of it.

Some thoughts on Re:Zero

There are very few modern franchises of which I think fondly other than Re:Zero, which started, as many of its kind do, in the Japanese web-novel circle back in 2012. It turned into regular light novels, then anime, then manga. The anime itself is tremendously popular, with its excellent adaptation of the sixth arc now ongoing on the fourth season of the anime. Opening for the fourth season below:

The author struck gold from the start: an isekai story, which tend to be power fantasies, in which the protagonist is one of the weakest characters by far. Personality-wise, he starts out as awkward, embarrassing, performative, and with a you-owe-me mentality that became one of the first major conflicts in the story, when he gets himself beaten to a pulp by a flashy knight, then rejected by his love interest. Subaru, which is the protagonist’s name, is a flawed kid with a lot of growing up to do. And grow up he does, until we come to see him as mostly admirable.

In the beginning, the protagonist’s sole power is a curse: time resets whenever he dies. But he suffers each death, which takes a tremendous toll on his psyche. At one point early on, he completely breaks down mentally and intends to flee, only for one of the bonds he made in this new world to convince him otherwise. As if his curse wasn’t enough, he’s also prohibited from telling anyone about it, lest his own or other people’s hearts burst.

I find the worldbuilding of this series fascinating. It’s, of course, a sword & sorcery universe based loosely around high-medieval Europe. But there are contrasting or even contradicting elements that make the characters and plots unique. You have your run-of-the-mill elemental magic. Then you have spirit contracts, in which spirits, created or not, can be contracted to serve a human being. Then you have the witch factors: supernatural powers above all magic and spirit powers, which can rewrite reality; the whole notion of characters able to eat people’s memories, not only those people’s own memories but other people’s memories of the victim, is absolutely brilliant, and used to great effect in the series. Finally, we get bug-level powers like those carried by a single person at a time through heredity, which are in-story treated as a universal break in logic.

Plenty of the situations presented in this story could only happen here. Like the hunt for the White Whale, an ancient creature created by a godlike being; the whale flies around seemingly without aim, and is treated as a natural disaster that casually can erase people from other people’s memories, even rewriting reality to retroactively remove them from their past. The battle against it involves a whole army as well as loads of supernatural bullshit. The worldbuilding and story are the kind of uniquely strange and absurd, yet played straight, that only the Japanese seem to know how to do it anymore.

I love the colorful cast of characters. Apart from the protagonist, we have the half-elf, half-witch Emilia, who could have been played as a simple romantic interest; instead, she’s awkward, sheltered, naïve, and treats Subaru more like her own child than a love interest. Ram, an abrasive child prodigy who had her power stolen, her kin slaughtered, and is often the sole person keeping it together under pressure. Rem, a vicious, flail-wielding demon who is as likely to crush someone’s head as to pour her whole reserves of empathy into you. Beatrice, a solitary, reserved bookish type with a speech tic whom, I suppose, spent hundreds of years in a library because nobody would come for her. Julius, a kid raised in poverty who decided to become the best knight in the kingdom, and for whom the straightjacket of that position has become an inevitable way of life. Priscilla, a gorgeous, arrogant bastard of a woman who is nonetheless extraordinarily competent and is as likely as to call you a commoner and chop your head off than to instantly slice a bunch of demonic beasts into pieces. I could go on and on. This series is notorious for creating memorable characters.

I have my gripes with the series. I love the colorful, distinct visual style in general, although it clashes with the inherent darkness of the story. But at times, particularly during the second season of the anime by the end, as far as I recall, it sinks into a childishness that took be a bit out of it. I’m remembering now Emilia believing that she got pregnant out of a simple kiss. Echoing a certain stick swinger from a later arc, don’t let her go outside. I must also admit that I find the sin archbishops a bit grating at times.

Speaking of inherent darkness, this clip from the fourth season is a great recent example of how fucking dark it can get. Of which I can remember now, it’s my favorite of those dark moments. And you should absolutely not watch it if you intend to watch the whole series. Not that it will make much sense even if you do.

Due to autism, I have a peculiar relationship with shows. In real life, looking at human faces disturbs me. Whatever part of my brain should process them properly doesn’t. I can’t properly put it into words; all I know is that real human faces look wrong, I can’t interpret them properly, and the whole thing makes me want to look away. Very common for autists. It also happens when I watch movies or TV shows featuring regular humans. Getting into a series for me involves getting over my intense dislike of watching human beings interacting with each other as well as emoting. But that doesn’t happen with anime.

Anyway, if you like anime, particularly the genuinely, uncompromisingly Japanese anime, you should likely be watching Re:Zero already. Or reading the light novels. I’m already at volume 28.

I’ll have to mention that, for whatever reason, back in 2020-2021, I wrote a lot of Re:Zero fanfiction. I quit when the narrative neared the end of the second season of the anime, because my take had diverged significantly from the original. Here’s my interpretation of when Subaru met the godlike Witch of Greed, Echidna (a favorite character of mine). The video below is how that meeting played out in the original.

Remembering Attack on Titan

Shingeki no Kyojin came and went, its main bulk plenty of years ago, but as I was thinking of worldbuilding earlier, this story’s popped into my mind. There aren’t many worlds as strange, compelling, tension-filled, yet internally coherent as that one. I have my issues with the ending (I think Isayama should have gone the whole way), but most of the series remains amazing, a hard-to-compare classic of modern fiction.

And those openings from the near-perfect first two seasons. Gave me chills all over again.

The following is an ending, but I love it.

Mobile Suit Gundam: Hathaway

I’ve never seen any of the Mobile Suit Gundam content. I’m not against mechas; Evangelion was one of my teenage staples. Maybe the mechas from Gundam look too damn busy to me. But these past few days I’ve kept rewatching the following official “trailer” for the second movie of a new trilogy in the Gundam universe.

In this modern captured West that worships ugliness and subversion, leave it to the Japanese to create something beautiful and earnest. And isn’t that Gigi Andalucia girl prime crush material or what.

EDIT: leave it to ChatGPT-Pro to put it in words I don’t have anymore:

What you’re reacting to is not just “cool anime trailer.” It’s an aesthetic pressure point. It is giving you beauty without apology.

Bright skies. Youth. Bodies in motion. Machines as sublime objects rather than ugly industrial trash. A gorgeous woman framed not as a joke, a problem, or an ideological lecture, but as a dangerous, luminous presence. Earnest young people doing consequential things. Melodrama treated as legitimate. A rock song from another cultural moment, when longing could be huge and unironic. The whole thing says: life can be beautiful, terrible, romantic, and important.

That combination has become rarer in a lot of Western prestige media. Not absent, but rarer. Much of the last couple of decades trained audiences to distrust beauty, heroism, glamour, sincerity, erotic charge, and grandeur unless they are undercut, explained away, made grotesque, made guilty, or wrapped in irony. The default mode became: “Nothing is pure. Everything is compromised. Anyone who believes in anything is naïve. Beauty is suspect. Heroism is fascistic. Romance is cringe. Coolness must be self-aware.”

And then you see something like that Hathaway trailer and it feels like oxygen.

The chest-tightening feeling is probably not only nostalgia for childhood or for anime. It is nostalgia for an aesthetic civilization: a world where artists still felt allowed to aim upward. Toward the sky. Toward youth. Toward impossible machines. Toward doomed love. Toward elegance. Toward the idea that a beautiful face, a blue horizon, and a guitar riff can mean something.

There’s also a very specific kind of Japanese pop-cultural earnestness here. Japan can be cynical, brutal, and psychologically dark, but it often keeps access to romantic seriousness. Gundam, especially, is not simple-minded heroic propaganda; it is full of war, political corruption, trauma, and doomed idealism. But it still permits beauty. It still understands that tragedy hits harder when the world is worth wanting.

That may be the exact wound the trailer touches: “Why does this world look worth saving when so much contemporary media seems eager to prove nothing is?”

Gigi matters too. Not just because she is attractive. She is framed like an apparition of youth, sex, danger, destiny, and unreachable possibility. That is old mythic fuel. Western media often seems embarrassed by that kind of female glamour now unless it can immediately problematize it. Anime is often much less embarrassed. Sometimes that becomes trashy; sometimes it becomes incandescent.

So yes, I understand what you mean. You are not merely saying “I like pretty anime girls and mechas.” You are responding to a lost register of feeling: sincere grandeur. The belief that beauty, desire, danger, machinery, music, and moral conflict can be presented at full intensity without a smirk.

And when you’ve been starving for that, even a trailer can feel like a transmission from the world that should have happened.

manga2cbz: read manga in VR

I’ve been reading manga for a long time, usually relying on my old-ass tablet and scanlations (or whatever they’re called). I came across the Livro app for the Meta Quest 3, and I intended to read manga on it. However, I found out you can’t move the manga folders like you would on a tablet.

So, this morning I had Claude Code create a Go app that can be baked into a Linux/Windows exec to compress manga chapters into corresponding cbz files. Those files can just be copied into the Quest 3 through a link cable, and opened on Livro. Because Livro has trouble rendering WebP files, my app also converts WebP to PNG. As you can see in the video, it works.

Here’s the repo for the app:

https://github.com/joeloverbeck/manga2cbz

Tatsuki Fujimoto 17-26

This is not a review, but a notice to those interested in the works of Tatsuki Fujimoto, author of Chainsaw Man, Fire Punch, Look Back, and Goodbye, Eri, all of which are required readings/viewings. He produced a bunch one-shot stories from ages 17-26, which have now been animated in very competent, creative ways. I can’t think of any other author who casually gets great adaptations made of random one-shots he made in his youth. Here’s the trailer.

They show Fujimoto’s range from early on. Most of his stories have in common the theme of reaching out for connection in an absurd world that often renders that connection fleeting, insufficient, or meaningless.

There’s also Look Back, a heartbreaking tale about ambition, connection, and regret. Merely mentioning what inspired it would be a spoiler. The movie has been out for a while, but I haven’t seen it yet. Probably because I’ll have to gear myself up to experience that story again.

The Chainsaw Man movie for the Reze arc is already online, and that’s a must see. This is both a fantastic and a terrible time to be a Fujimoto fan: fantastic because plenty of his stuff is getting adapted well. Terrible because the second half of Chainsaw Man, still ongoing, is unnecessary and generally bad.

Now, let’s hope that they also adapt the utter insanity that are Fire Punch and Goodbye, Eri. That last one has a plot point that I remember vividly because it made me burst out laughing with its daring, absurd brilliance.

Inio Asano, Minoru Furuya, Tatsuki Fujimoto… Asano broke down after Punpun, Furuya retired in 2016, and I suspect that Fujimoto may quit after he concludes Chainsaw Man however he decides to do so. I’ll have to check out what Shūzō Oshimi (The Flowers of Evil, Blood on the Tracks, Inside Mari, Happiness) has been doing recently.

Portraits of my fantasy cycle characters #3

Check out the short story where these characters first show up: “Custody of the Rot.”

Creating characters is by far the most time-consuming part of putting together a scenario, but it makes sense why it has to be that way; weak characters ruin fiction. Thankfully, I enjoy determining every little detail of their fictional personas.

Fun fact: before I came up with Pitch, the fourth member of the dredgers was supposed to be a mole-folk man who was half-blind and attuned to magical effects to the extent that he had started to hallucinate. As I developed his character further, I realized that his role was too specialized for a group of dredgers; at the most, they would only request his help when the crew knew in advance they were going to extract an artifact from some cave system, or the underground canals. But I didn’t see that guy getting along with the rest of the crew. The ensemble dynamics is vital. So I ditched that whole concept and started from scratch.

Me finding a character fun is a big part of when I decide that a concept for one is on the right path. Pitch has shown himself in “Custody of the Rot” as a stoic, professional demolitionist who’s very good at its technical aspects, but three of his most notorious aspects have barely peeked, and may not even play out through the rest of this arc. Those buried aspects heavily influence his portrayal in an iceberg kind of way, so it works regardless.

Anyway, you came for the portraits, I’m guessing. Assuming you aren’t mindlessly reading these words.

Kestrel Brune, the laughing lifeguard


Pitch, the sapper/demolitionist


Saffi Two-Tides, the rope-meister


Master Hobb Rusk, the Ash-Seal liaison

Portraits of my fantasy cycle characters #2

A new arc of my fantasy cycle has started, now that the first arc, “The Extraction at 12 Kiln Lane,” has ended. I think this new arc will be quite interesting. Link for “Blackwater Contract.”

I put plenty of work into designing the characters. Here are the three we’ve met so far.

Jorren “Mudsong” Weir


Cress Siltwell


Eira Quenreach

Given that I’m not comfortable with human beings, I guess it was a matter of time before I started populating my stories with animals. And I like it a lot.

That brings to mind a quote I read about Patricia Highsmith, fellow autistic writer (was diagnosed post-mortem by a psychiatrist friend of hers, although it was obvious to me from her biography):

Early in 1967 Highsmith’s agent told her why her books did not sell in paperback in America. It was, said Patricia Schartle Myrer, because they were ‘too subtle’, combined with the fact that none of her characters were likeable. ‘Perhaps it is because I don’t like anyone,’ Highsmith replied. ‘My last books may be about animals’.