The One on the Right

When high school student Tasuku is discovered looking at gay porn in class, in his haste, he blames it all on a prank by his brother and claims that he could never be a "homo".  Being that he actually IS a "homo"-and in rural Japan, no less-this drives him into such a state of self-loathing that he contemplates suicide at the top of a tall hill.  He doesn't, obviously, but a sighting of a mysterious woman jumping down (safely) from somewhere on that hill leads Tasuku to discover something called a "drop-in center".

This woman is the mysterious "Someone-san" (and no: I'm not kidding), who tells him that the people at the drop-in center, some of whom are also gay, may be willing to listen to him and provide support with his, for lack of a better word, "gayngst" (my word, not theirs).

Look it up; It's a thing.

I hadn't intended to pick this up.  It wasn't on my schedule of new releases, but I just happened to stop by B&N today, on a bad day for new manga, and I had come in such a good mood to review stuff that I had thought would be on the shelves.

While I can appreciate this appeal to diversity, I'd have to say that I probably might not pick up Vol. 2.  The story moves forward at literally a snail's pace and Tasuku seems far too passive and wimpy and whiny to ever act like a proper protag.  Hell, even the first major storyline follows the backstory of the lesbian couple that he meets at the drop-in center!

The art is all drawn in standard black and white, obviously, but the paper it's written on is a particularly stark white that makes everything seems almost minimalist, no matter how much art the artist crams in.

And, brother, does the artist love to cram in the art!

You get the sense that this Yuhki Kamatani character may have a background in the fine arts, given all the scenery porn and visual metaphors they indulge themself in.  For example, when Tasuku sees the happy and loving lesbian couple enjoying the kind of life that he may never have, we're treated to a glowing something flying out of his chest and shattering into fragments like shards of glass.  And a cool breeze is always represented by a visible wind full of intricate snowflakes.

Long story short, I may not have intended to pick up "Our Dreams at Dusk", but I'm glad I did, even if only because it gave me the chance to write up an oddly satisfying and freeing negative review.

That's not weird, right?  Right?

(And, PS, I have no plans to ever review that "My Boy" manga.  One volume was enough for me.  Too boring.)