@raventhekittycat
hi okay so I've been mulling this one over for the past day or two and I think I have the answer. not to be using hamburger to explain anything to an american but you're my detco mutual so I'm going to try and explain it in detco terms
There's a post going around recently about how if you've read detco and only detco, the first time hakuba shows up you're going to be totally flummoxed, because damn this guy is clearly important, he gets to be even cooler than Shinichi, he's got a half-page shot of him (in such a panel-dense series such as Detective Conan, no less!!) and he's got a fucking hawk. he's CLEARLY important. everything about the narrative is indicating that you need to PAY ATTENTION to hakuba and that he's the coolest guy and he's important!!!! and then he dies in the case lol (not for real. but still.)!! and you're like huh??? what was that. why did aoyama do that.
But with the context of magic kaito this totally makes sense. He's a beloved character that people have been waiting decades to see again. Of course Aoyama is going to hype him up!! It's his big moment after years of being locked in the backrooms!!!
Anyways reading birdmen for me was kind of like that. The author's previous series, Kekkaishi, was pretty one-dimensional at the beginning, and even after the main plot started picking up at around volume 6, it still felt quite understandable. I knew what she was trying to get at, and the spectacular job she did with the anthropocene and climate change metaphor towards the end of that series really made me interested in the rest of her works. That and the way she writes familial relationships is absolutely DEVASTATING. (I mean this with the highest of praise)
But when I read BIRDMEN for the first time, I was probably in... middle school, maybe? And I read it, sure, but I didn't get it. I could see what was literally happening on the page but the narrative choices were absolutely baffling at times. Why skip over the entire part of the plot where they figure out who the birdman that saved them was? She blatantly doesn't care about that. What does she care about then?? I knew I didn't get it, I knew there were parts of it that were important and I couldn't figure out why and THAT'S how it dug its pretty little claws into me. Even after I finished catching up it nagged at me a little bit, not often at all, but enough that every once in a while I go, huh, right, that was a thing, let me go read it again.
For the record this type of story haunting has happened to me twice. First time was the Heart of Thomas, second time was BIRDMEN. I think the thing is that these are both stories which are not what other people say they are and I think I came into both of these stories with a misconception, trying to look too hard for things that weren't important and therefore missing the things that were.
Because sure, BIRDMEN is about mental illness. Yeah, it's about an evil scientific organization growing mutants in a lab. Yeah, it's about what it means to leave your humanity behind. That's all technically correct, on a surface level, and the fandom at large likely agrees with these takes for the most part, but in my opinion none of that really delves into what the thematic messaging of the story is about.
There are cryptic conversations about authority and human extinction and peculiar outfit and ability choices. You can tell these choices weren't made to serve the purpose of "writing exciting shonen manga" because that was what she did for the most part in Kekkaishi and you can tell she wasn't putting her whole pussy into doing that here. So what was she doing? What's like. All of this. Waves my hands at this.
The short answer is that it's really about the interplay between capitalism (represented by humanity) and communism (represented by birdmen), and explores the role institutional white supremacy (EDEN) plays in enforcing capitalism. It is ALSO about queer liberation and the importance of community, but hey, that double-stacks conveniently with the communism metaphor.
But also take this opinion of mine with a grain of salt. As far as I know I'm the only one who really truly deeply believes that it is not only AN interpretation of the work, but one that was fully intended by the author.
So basically, I like it, because I think it says something true and beautiful that I also believe in, even if I didn't have the words for it the first time I read it. But I don't really think that's what people really look for in a media recommendation.
Do I like it? Yes, I love it. Will I recommend it to others? Yeah, sure. But do I think it's deeply flawed? Yeah, absolutely. It's flawed in the same ways as The Witch from Mercury— a rushed ending, too many threads that were opened and never tied together. The pacing and characterization is perfect in the beginning, and too rushed at the end. There are prerequisites you basically HAVE to read in order to understand the story (tempest for G-Witch and the communist manifesto for birdmen). I think a truly good story wouldn't have any of these things so if people don't like it I never blame them.
It's my personal experiences that make birdmen so profound to me. If you are not queer I just don't think Eishi coming out as a birdman to his mom will hit the same, just as an example. Sorry that I wasn't the kid you wanted me to be. I know you love me and you just want the best for me and that's why you're so controlling, because you think I can be saved by conforming to societal expectations. But I can't live like that. I can't be like that. And that's why I must go. etc.
Aesthetically I do love birdmen a lot. If I had to describe it in a few words it would probably be "chilling", "beautiful", and "powerful", which nicely coincides with the type of things I personally like to draw. It's also silly to a small degree but it's so serious and I know Tanabe can be way way way funnier (read kekkaishi for this. kekkaishi and hanazakari no kimitachi he were foundational to my sense of sequential art humor) so that's not really the standout trait of this series.
I can't let it go because I'm chewing this series like a bone. And it's taking me years but I am getting that sweet sweet marrow. By god. We are on year 3 of this shit and I am GOING to understand this series. and I'm going to make 3 video essays about it
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steban and uli. prompt 17
17. “Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…”
They're squeezed inside a broom closet, uncomfortably close to each other, where Cindy pushed them in, locked the door and ran away, vowing not to open said door until they "deal with their feelings", whatever that means. Naturally, Ulixes isn't going to take that lying down, and is searching the door for anything - structural weaknesses, a way to force the lock open.
"The cleaning lady has a second key," Steban supplies. "And she comes here every day when her shift starts and ends."
Ulixes pauses running his fingers down the edge of the door and says, "This is good news."
"Yes, well, the bad news is that she probably already turned in for the night." Steban scrunches up his face in silent apology, as if this situation is his fault. "Maybe we should just... do what Cindy says and discuss 'our feelings', whatever that means?"
Panicking, drowning on dry land, Ulixes says, "I have no idea what she might have been referring to."
"Then we best get comfortable... looks like we'll be trapped for a while..."
---
They're hunkered down with their backs to a barricade that's not even really meant to be A Barricade writ large, just a few apartment buildings' worth of people - it's becoming increasingly en vogue to think of them in terms of 'civilians' - who have banded together to block off their street by haphazardly piling up furniture in a desperate bid to defend their doorsteps from the roving mobs of all political persuasions, the burnings, the break-ins, the random violence. But to Coalition ground response, a barricade is a barricade: a sign of resistance. They are under orders to dismantle barricades as they find them. Slowly but surely, the defenders are being hemmed in. What at first looked like a refuge to the people here is turning into a kettle.
Uli knows that Steban knew that this would happen. They're here anyway. The alternative would have been abandoning these people to their fates.
"How's that radio coming along, Ulixes?" Steban asks as he peers out beyond the barricade through the scope of a rifle. (His fingers have grown disturbingly steady on the gun and Uli doesn't like it at all.)
He sighs. "I don't exactly know how this thing works, Steban." If he sounds a little snippy, surely the circumstances will excuse it. "I just saw a comrade handle one at the aid station."
"There we go, you're practically an expert." Steban pats his shoulder. "Look, if you can't get this thing to transmit, there'll be no way to call on the unions for help."
"I..." Ulixes begins, but is interrupted by the sound of a gunshot tearing through the air. It comes from outside.
Steban scrambles to his feet, hissing what is undoubtedly a curse in Mesque. "Shit, they're starting to breach." He turns to his squadron, grabbing their weapons, and the locals cowering in fear. In that beauteous and disturbing new command voice he acquired when they were separated, Steban shouts, "Alright, everyone who has a gun to the front here, please! Children and the elderly in the back! Ulixes, you can grab your medical stuff and set up a field hospital behind the bombed-out car over there and keep at readiness. Vamonos!"
Ulixes grabs his crutch and rises, groping for his bag of scavenged medical supplies. Who knew it would turn out like this? He doesn't even have a weapon on him apart from the knife he uses, mostly, to cut bandages. "What about the radio?" he asks.
"Work on it whenever you find the time, but prioritise the wounded." Steban is already trying to affix his bayonet. He seems to be anticipating close combat.
"But if we can't signal for reinforcements..."
"Yeah. Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."
---
They're sitting at the kitchen table of an apartment that's still cramped by most standards, but leagues larger than what they used to have - they have a kitchen now, and enough space to put a table in it. There's even a bathroom, and a tiny balcony. Accomplished men, they are.
"If I manage to get elected, apparently there will be a small salary," Steban is saying.
It has astonished Ulixes somewhat that, after finishing their degrees together, Steban hasn't wanted to stick around and lecture like Ulixes is doing. That he'd get this embroiled in political work that is, quite obviously, not going to be leading much of anywhere. Sure, a part of Steban is very fond of quibbling over ideological minutiae, but to make a career out of that...?
"I know what you're thinking of our new parliament... I wholeheartedly concur," Steban says now. "But this'll be a decent enough recruiting ground for the next coup attempt."
"Do you think there will be one?" Ulixes asks.
"If no new attempt at revolution is forthcoming, we shall manufacture one," Steban replies like it's self-evident, like the war didn't suck any desire for violence out of him (Ulixes fears it didn't, but rather added desire where there used to be none). Steban looks good now, with his sleek hair and crisp shirt and neatly trimmed beard, but Ulixes perceives his eyes and knows he can become what he became in the Return again.
"This new so-called independence is nominal only, and people will realize that," Steban continues. "We exchanged a foreign occupant for a domestic one, that's all. Sure, we can form political parties, even communist ones, but there's no real power to them. People will see. Maybe not tomorrow, but eventually."
"So we go back to hiding." Ulixes sighs. How disappointing.
"For now. Best if people think we've settled down. I'll take a small, meaningless post in parliament, and let our friends in the RCM believe I've given up on real revolution. It happens all the time, people grow older, they start to compromise, they start to let reaction take hold and abandon their radical ideas. It'll look convincing. Once they believe us to be harmless, we'll make new plans."
It's probably good to tread carefully for now - there had been voices in the new security oversight council, staffed with ranking RCM members and their friends, calling for putting them both in prison. Still, a part of Ulixes, the one that was louder before his injury, clamors in frustration. "And there's nothing else to do right now."
"Not right now, not anytime soon," Steban says glumly. "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while..."
---
"It looks like," Steban begins, "we'll be..."
"Don't say it," Uli interrupts him. "There is absolutely no need to say it."
"We are on the Western Plain, Ulixes, and life as we know it has ended. Grant me this one affectation."
"I need grant you nothing," Ulixes says. As he nests in middle age, makes himself comfortable in it, he finds curmudgeonliness suits him. Their conversations have, after two decades of quasi-married life, a levity to them that they didn't have at the start. Back then, Ulixes would have never imagined they'd bicker one day. They're fonder of each other than ever.
In less harmonious news: everything else.
A patch of... well, of what? Of matter, of being, of reality extends outwards from them. To their knowledge, this is the last speck of real world that is left. The pale is diffuse, but Ulixes could swear he can physically feel it, pressing against their little sanctuary, threatening to squash it into nothing, into itself. The perimeter holds, for now, but there is no guarantee - no guarantee at all - that it will continue to. Will he be feeling that pressure forever from now on, every passing moment, until he dies or the perimeter collapses, or the world, through some miracle, changes again? For a moment, fear almost chokes him.
How can they possibly presume to be strong enough to keep this up? Who are they to entertain such hubris? They're just some guys. How can they possibly be able to beat back entropy?
Steban squeezes his hand. "It's okay," he murmurs. "It'll be okay. As long as we stick together."
He turns to the small group of people huddling behind them, frightened, grieving, untethered. Friends, comrades, followers and whoever they managed to grab and pull along.
The remnants of the world.
And the last people in it.
Steban doesn't give a speech, not really. He just says, in his soft voice that always manages to sound like he's talking to everyone here confidentially, "Alright, we knew this day would come. We practiced for this. We cultivated our plasm. I know you're scared, I know you're asking yourselves where we can go from here, if we have what it takes to keep this up, if we can make the communal effort. And I know that we can try, and we have to try."
"What now?" someone pipes up from the back.
"Now we will build a tower." Suddenly, quickly, Steban leans in and whispers in Uli's ear, "Because it looks like we'll be trapped for a while."
He smirks and dodges as Ulixes bats at him with his cane and an inarticulate shout of indignance and, Ulixes thinks, maybe with Steban, even the pale will be bearable.
They roll up their sleeves, and get to work once more.
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