Ooku vol. 8

New volumes of this series are an annual event and always one worth celebrating.  Take this volume for instance, which covers over a decade of time yet doesn’t feel rushed at all.  It also has an intriguing cliffhanger to pick up on.  After reforming the shogunate and filling its coffers again, Yoshimune was riding high as the current Shogun with the only issue before her being one of succession.  As it was revealed at the end of vol. 7, her eldest daughter Ieshige (and the one first in line for succession) did not immediately appear to be shogun material.  However, the shortcomings of Ieshi are only part of the story being told here.  If anything, the real star of this volume is her valet and chamberlain Tanuma.

A simple handmaiden when she’s assigned to Ieshige, the girl first wonders what she has done to deserve the fate of serving an heir who carouses openly with men, drinks throughout the day, can be charitably described as “homely” in appearance and has a speech impediment which prevents her from properly articulating herself.  Yes, the reader is clearly made to sympathize with Tanuma’s plight and wonder why Yoshimune didn’t flout convention, as she has done in the past, and arrange for her far more charming second-oldest daughter to succeed the throne.  It’s a tricky situation, and one that mangaka Fumi Yoshinaga navigates with ease.  Indeed, she manages to find ways to have Tanuma regret her initial appraisal of Ieshige, and show us that there’s more to the shogun-to-be than we first thought that feel utterly believable in the context of the story.  By the end of the first chapter, you’ll be invested in seeing what fate holds in store for the both of them.  Even if Yoshinaga hedges her bets with them by giving us two epilogue pages that let you know the broad strokes of how they turn out.

The focus of the volume shifts in the next two chapters as we get back to some of the gender politics of a Japan where the women vastly outnumber the men.  It’s because of this that because the best cook at a local inn is a man, a burly, uncouth one known as Zenjiro, is not only told that he’ll never become head cook there but ultimately dismissed as a result.  Though he’s infuriated at this development, the head of the inn hits upon the idea of going into service in the inner chambers where he won’t have to worry about being a male cook in a woman’s world.  It’s a suggestion that doesn’t quite turn out as Zenjiro expects when he learns that the male cooks in the castle only provide the side dishes to the shogun’s meals and that he can irritate his male peers just as easily as he could his female ones.

Things change when he’s requested to provide meals for one Sir O-Kou, the father to Ieshige’s first child, who has gone on a hunger strike after inexplicably slashing the shogun’s current concubine in front of her.  That Zenjiro is going to have to employ all of his cunning in order to get this lily-livered man to eat again should go without saying.  Yoshinaga slowly and effectively unravel the many layers of feelings entwined in this situation as Zenjiro winds up seeing more of himself in the prisoner than he ever expected and ultimately provides the insight O-Kou needs to understand Ieshige’s actions and get over himself.  Their relationship is also summed up quite well in the end all thanks to a gesture involving one chopstick.

Now though there’s a good deal of story in these two chapters, it’s also clear that Yoshinaga is indulging her foodie sensibilities here as well.  We get several demonstrations of Zenjiro’s ingenuity as a cook and why he’s the best there is at what he does in the kitchen.  In fact, his dishes look so good that O-Kou’s increasing reluctance to stick to his hunger strike is very easy for anyone to understand.  To be perfectly honest, the only reason I’m calling this out as a bit of indulgence on the mangaka’s part is because I’ve read so many of her series that touch upon this.  I even bought one collection of stories she did that involves nothing but her raving about the best places to eat in her neighborhood.  If you didn’t know this, then you’d just appreciate these chapters as the thoughtful character study they are.  I’m not saying this whole thing is an issue, just that it’s… there.

The following chapters get back to documenting Tanuma’s rise as she comes up with a clever way of solving the constant turmoil of a rice-based economy.  In fact, it’s an “Why didn’t I think of that?” kind of solution, but also one that requires knowledge of how Feudal Japan’s economy works too.  The moment that Tanuma presents this solution is also one that marks her as an ascending power behind the throne and one whose ideas will be worth following over subsequent volumes.  We also get a bittersweet farewell with Yoshimune and her friend Hisamichi as she finds out the real reason she was able to ascend to the seat of power.  It’s a scene that’s as moving as it is disturbing since we find out the real limits and depths of their friendship.  Also, how some monstrous acts ultimately served the greater good of Japan.

Then the volume’s focus shifts again as we head to Nagasaki and are witness to a loudmouthed samurai getting his comeuppance from a tall half-breed.  Gondayu is the loudmouth and Gosaku is the half-breed (and the star of this volume’s cover), and the former has come to the town to retain its most gifted Dutch interpreter for the services of the inner chambers.  That happens to be Gosaku, who wants nothing to do with the rogue until an outbreak of the redface pox hits Nagasaki.  In the wake of this, and to repay a debt, Gosaku changes his mind and is brought before Tanuma who reveals the real reason he was recruited.  It’s another example of the forward-thinking that marks the character and one that looks like it’s going to deal with a plot thread that has been present since the start of the series.  The fact that Gondayu and Gosaku will have to continue working together as a result is also a bonus to the reader as Yoshinaga writes them with some great comedic chemistry.

So yeah, the very high standards of quality that this title traffics in are maintained once again here.  Unless you’re one of those people who just can’t stand the faux-Shakespearean (“Fakespeare!”) slant of the localization or a title that is deeply steeped in the culture of Feudal Japan, I honestly can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to read this.  It continues to be a fine example of the complete package in manga and comics.