Reviewed by: Ulysses trans. by Glenn Anderson Manga Classic Readers Andrew Ferguson (bio) ULYSSES, by Variety Art Works, translated by Glenn Anderson. Manga Classic Readers. Tokyo: East Press, 2009; Long Island City, N.Y.: One Peace Books, 2012. iv + 380 pp. $9.95. In April 2009, Robert Berry began posting pages from his word-for-word graphic adaptation of “Telemachus,” the first installation of what would become “Ulysses” Seen, subsequently licensed by the James Joyce Centre and since featured in a number of Joycean outlets.1 Berry’s work is a virtuoso rendering of Joyce’s novel, informed by and indebted to the research of hundreds of others, yet unmistakably the product of a single aesthetic consciousness. But his was not the only Ulysses comic to debut that year or even that month—and the other, a manga Ulysses, demonstrates a vastly different approach to the process of adaptation: collaborative, transnational, and unpredictable. The Japanese publisher East Press released Ulysses as part of its Manga de Dokuha (“Reading through Manga”) series, which adapts works of classical and modern literature to the manga format, with the graphics handled by the Variety Art Works studio collective. The series began in 2007 with Tōson Shimazaki’s 1906 naturalist classic The Broken Commandment,2 before moving on to works by other canonical Japanese authors as well as writing by Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Leo Tolstoy, and eventually texts by a host of European authors from Dante Alighieri to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe to Marcel Proust. Some of these—including Moby-Dick, The War of the Worlds, and The Great Gatsby3—were translated back into English or reverted to the original text. (Perhaps for this reason, the Ulysses volumes were printed in Canada, thus avoiding any potential copyright entanglement.) Unlike the infinite canvas of Berry’s long-term adaptation project, the artists behind the Ulysses manga had to meet the constraint of fitting everything into a single volume: 376 pages of text and images in all (and, to the frustration of this reviewer, unnumbered). Many aspects of the book are necessarily sacrificed to the imperative of compression, including almost everything in the way of Homeric correspondence. True, the manga provides the provisional (though never official) “name” of each episode, but beyond the incongruous reproductions of nineteenth-century paintings placed before each of the three major sections, there are few other nods toward the Odyssey—or, for that matter, much else in the Stuart Gilbert or Carlo Linati schemas: no colors (since the book is grayscale), no organs, few sciences, and little verbal technique.4 For experienced readers of the book, this last will likely prove most striking; for instance, the twelve tightly packed pages of Stephen’s “Proteus” soliloquy become nine pages of paraphrase, linked through [End Page 221] flashbacks, associative thought-bubbles, and drawings of the Irish Sea shore that emphasize its beauty without dwelling on it as a source of corpses and ruin. Much else of what Karen Lawrence terms Joyce’s “odyssey of style” goes by the boards:5 the headlines in “Aeolus” are subdued; the incidents in “Wandering Rocks” are stripped to a bare minimum (Blazes Boylan in the flower shop, Stephen meeting Dilly Dedalus, Bloom buying Sweets of Sin); the apocalyptic visions in “Cyclops” are cut entirely; and there is no attempt to recapitulate anything in “Oxen of the Sun.” What is left is an executive summary provided by Stephen, at the end of “Ithaca,” as he gains inspiration for a novel where “everything … will correspond with a myth” (368). The Ulysses manga, however, does provide an odyssey of sorts in its play with genre. The pervasiveness of the manga format in Japan means that there are volumes available for almost any perceived audience, on almost any subject, and in almost any genre, each with its own set of conventions and visual grammar—from which the artists borrow freely while adapting the episodes. This is evident from the first pages of “Telemachus,” where Buck Mulligan is drawn as a character in the shonen manga, or “boys’ comics,” mold—radiant and gorgeous, if not exactly plump or stately. While shonen comics focus on friendship among young men, Stephen Dedalus appears...
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