Suehiro Maruo's striking and memorable work stands out not only for the realism and detail of the art, but for the grotesque sex and horrific violence of the content. In both Western and Japanese literature, there is a tradition that seriously examines the extremes of behavior, but in comics, works covering these subjects have almost always been pure shock value or quasi-pornography. Perhaps for this reason, Maruo's manga has been somewhat underrated [see The Comics Journal #159 and #239] or ignored, at least in America. Even though the work published here is uneven, it remains some of the best manga yet to appear in English and should be read by anyone interested in the artistic and literary possibilities of comics - provided they can stomach Maruo's subject matter.

There is an impersonal quality to Maruo's work that takes the role of a "voyeur in the attic" (to quote the title of one story), observing and clinically recording the bizarre and often shocking behavior of others, and the world he observes is a bleak one. Two recurring themes are central to his stories, both thoroughly pessimistic: The first is that human beings are beasts, ruled by their appetites for sex and cruelty (the snakes and insects which often appear in his panels contribute to this pervasive sense of animalism); the second theme is that children and youth are perpetually betrayed by their parents, authority figures, and adult society in general. These amoral tensions provide much of what is interesting and ambiguous in his work. Another frequent theme is that of alienation: his comics are full of outsiders, both those who have rejected and been rejected by society. But in Maruo's world there is no solidarity among outsiders. His outcasts and outlaws often prey upon each other.

According to manga scholar Frederik Schodt's Dreamland Japan, Maruo was a high-school dropout and a self-taught artist, who was first published in magazines of erotic manga. Since the editors of these magazines didn't care what was in the stories as long as there were sex scenes, Maruo was free to write and draw what he liked, and, gradually, his work gained attention and respect in Japan.

Much of what has been written about Maruo in English has emphasized the influence upon him of the "atrocity ukiyo-e" (Japanese woodblock prints) of the 19th century. Schodt quotes him as naming the ukiyo-e artist Yoshitoshi Tsukioka as a particular influence. The titles alone of such prints by Yoshitoshi as "Inada Kyuuzou Shinsuke Murders the Kitchen Maid" and "Kasamori Osen Carved Alive by Her Stepfather" anticipate his work. Maruo also co-edited a book called Bloody Ukiyo-e, pairing atrocity prints by Yoshitoshi and another 19th-century artist with modern versions of these prints by himself and his co-editor, Kazuichi Hanawa.

Maruo also finds much of his inspiration in the art and culture of 1920s and 1930s Japan and Germany. According to Schodt, "Aesthetically his heart is in the 1930s. 'Ever since I was a child,' he says, 'I've liked the design sense of the period -- the costumes, the architecture. I often wish I'd been born in either Germany or Japan back then.'" Many of his works are set in the Japan of this period, with the appropriate costumes. As for Germany, one of Maruo's stories is named "Dr. Caligari's Revival" ("Karigari Hakase Fukkatsu"), which is based on the Weimar-era German horror film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari; and another story, "Nemuri Otoko" ("Sleep Man"), is also based on the Weimar-era Fritz Lang film M, about a serial child murderer. Maruo's house is full of old manga, as well as antiquated posters, postcards, puppets and other artifacts from the past, revealing a flair for antiquity shared by many North American cartoonists whose work may seem less than analogous. The strong current of nostalgia in his work may not be immediately obvious to Western readers unfamiliar with Japanese culture, but whatever his influences, he has successfully forged them into a unique artistic style all his own.

Though his output is abundant, much of Maruo's work has not yet been translated for the English language market: only the graphic novel Mr. Arashi's Amazing Freak Show (the original Japanese title is Shoujo Tsubaki, or Camellia Girl), the collection Ultra-Gash Inferno, and short stories in anthologies, such as The New Comics Anthology edited by Bob Callahan and Comics Underground Japan. Of these, Freak Show is the most accomplished. Originally published in 1984, it's actually much less explicit than some of his other works, but still contains a lot of shocking imagery. The subject matter, like a number of Maruo's other works, is the abuse of an innocent young girl. Its simple plot unfolds with the logic of a nightmare. Midori is a 12-year-old orphan enslaved by the owner of a traveling freak show. She enjoys no solidarity with the other performers, who overwork and torment her during the day, and expose her to their orgies at night. (In an earlier, un-translated story with these characters, we learn that the performers have raped her.) Midori gains a reprieve when "Masamitsu the Bottled Wonder" joins the show. Masamitsu is a dwarf, and apparently a real magician, or at least a mass hypnotist, and his act saves the show from bankruptcy. He befriends Midori and protects her from the owner and the other performers; they become lovers, though this is not explicitly shown. But Masamitsu is himself more than a little sinister: Fiercely possessive, he murders another performer who tries to compete for Midori's affections, and chases away two talent scouts who offer to make Midori a movie star. Eventually, the freak show disbands when the owner runs off with all the money. Midori agrees to go off with Masamitsu, and a happy ending appears in sight, but Maruo snatches even this hope away. Unbeknownst to Midori, Masamitsu is killed; and in a dream-like sequence, Midori envisions that she has been thoroughly betrayed. The final image is one of utter abandonment: a double-page spread, completely white except for the tiny figure of Midori on one side, and the large characters indicating her sobs on the other.

[To read the full version of this essay, please see The Comics Journal 2005 Special Edition.]

All site contents are © 2002