It's not possible to talk about Mushishi and not talk about the setting. The setting makes the story, and the character. In Mushishi, we have Mushi as the fundamental life-force of the world. For most, these remain invisible, for some, they are objects of curiosity acquiring tangible form, for a few, they are a fact of life. Mushi are integrated into every aspect of the world: a place without Mushi is barren and lifeless, but too much of it spells disaster and invites tragedy.
In many ways, the setting of Mushishi mimics life: Mushi themselves are incapable of good or evil, that is why they are simultaneously beneath human morality and above it. They are part of nature, part of a grand balance. The balance is constantly shifting, changing, but is a balance nonetheless. As humans, the question is whether to accept this balance, and coexist with it, or to fear it, and attempt to master it.
There is a second facet to the world of Mushishi. As always, the human element exists secondarily to nature. Expecting something more akin to Kino's Journey, I'd been surprised when I realised that the story was set in an alternate Edo-era. Part of this decision on the part of the mangaka, I suppose, was due to nostalgia, and part of it, I think, must be due to the idea of coexistence. Perhaps it came down to a very simple question like: how did people live before machines? And before industrialisation? And perhaps most importantly of all, before they lost their vital link to nature.
The world is alive, and fluid, it is not just a blank tablet made for humans to carve meaning into. To exist, then, one must also coexist.
Then we come to the characters. Ginko is the name of the man. White-haired, roguish, stoic, dressed in distinctly western garb, (and not to mention somehow popular with both the gents and the ladies) he is in many ways the outsider, and as a result of that, he is who we identify with. Ginko is human, flawed, apathetic, eccentric, which makes him all the more endearing (I speak for myself) and relatable. Simply put, Ginko is the Red Schuhart of Mushishi.
Ginko does not belong anywhere. He does not hate people, nor nature. He gets along. Likewise, he does not hate mushi. It is through his eye(s) that we see the world in all its ethereal and Lovecraftian splendour (I will explain the Lovecraft parallel later). Yet he is always the visitor, the drifter. There is something that enthralls every Romantic, the idea of walking the world, without goal, without ambition, just taking in everything, and being alive. Something Chris McCandless would have agreed with, surely, but perhaps not the 'alive' part. I digress.
Ginko is more than an outsider. He coexists. He belongs in the natural world of Mushi, just as much as he is ill at ease in the human world of, well, humans. Ginko is part of the setting, part of the living world. It is not man against nature but man with nature, man as part of nature, and vice-versa, and so on.
I suppose, one might see mushi as characters in their own right. Like people, they are capricious, having their own needs, stubborn. But they are not people: theye have no motives, except insofar it serves their bodily needs. They have no agenda but for survival. They are not capable of deceit. Like Ginko, they are misunderstood. Like Ginko, they come and go. And not unlike Ginko, they are nature.
The structure of the series is episodic. Every part can be watched separately in no particular order, which complements the content perfectly. There is no real beginning to the story, nor any ending. The conflict and coexistence between human and mushi will endure.
Other than the worldbuilding, another keystone to Mushishi is the tone. The sound and the visuals synergise with each other to weave a sense of serenity. I have few words to say about the visuals. I'll admit that I have little by way of taste, but I can tell you that they are quaint, and calming. Various mushi seemed to be modelled on real creatures, so that they are familiar but enthralling. The colours seem subdued, so that you always feel as if you're looking at a corner of a great rolling painting, rather than at a jumble of them. Still shots are common, and Ginko often alone, but it manages to be neither melancholic nor foreboding. There is always the sense of wonder.
The music compliments tone, the best I can do to describe it is that it's about 'being' and not 'doing'. There are no hectic marches, no heroic anthems. In the same way that the plot is more about existing and restoring nature, the music exists: it goes nowhere, it just is. One might even see Mushishi as a Taoist work. The concept of a balance mirrors that of the 'Tao', and the idea of living simply and mindfully tallies with 'Wuwei'. In a way, the music underlines Ginko's principles: it is not as though Ginko cannot act; it is that most of the time, he refrains from doing.
Finally, let me end with the Lovecraft comparison. There's no need for me to go into detail. The topic has already been thoroughly discussed by JeffersonAirship in his post titled 'Mushishi: the Anti-Lovecraft' which you can peruse at your leisure. The gist of the matter is that whilst both works deal with superhuman natural forces: sometimes gargantuan, often dangerous, always unpredictable, Mushishi accepts what Lovecraft has rejected: the idea that humans are insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Yes, there are things too terrible to call creatures lurking all too near us, yes, we are so tiny that they do not even notice us, yes, if and when the do notice us, we perish, and yet, Ginko shows us that we can still live in knowledge of them. Lovecraft would treat mushi as a lore rightly forbidden; Ginko seeks mushi and seeks to know everything about them: the reassuring truth, the ambivalent truth, the unsettling truth. All. In a way, Mushishi is the enlightened view to Lovecraft's Luddite-ness.
I have noticed that I've given Mushishi unimpressive scores on most of the criteria, and for some reason it still holds a special place among the anime I've watched over the years. There are facets and nuances that simply cannot be captured by a ratings. The bottom line is that it's a fresh perspective for things we have too long taken for granted. Things like nature, coexistence, mastery, and our place in the Great Chain of Being. The setting is at the centre of it all. Character, plot, music and art all revolve around a world that is fluid, immutable and unknowable. Ginko and the mushi are interwoven into the very mystery of nature. Perhaps we are, too.
