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The moment I heard that there would be a new Devilman anime directed by my long-time favorite animator in the industry, I was more excited than I think I'd been in my entire life. The night of its release, I remember sitting and watching the clock like it'd skitter away from me the second I took my eyes off it. I had to see it the second it came out. It was going to be the best thing I'd ever seen.

It took me three or four episodes to admit that I was disappointed, and all 10 to admit I didn't like it.

I've spent a long ... time stewing in my thoughts about this show. In my heart I still really want to think of it positively, but the only real emotion I associate with it now is embarrassment. I know that the people who worked on it pumped their blood sweat and tears into it, but I also know that if those same people had been allowed to work around a more coherent structure it would have been a masterpiece instead of a pretty disaster. So, really, that line of rationalization just makes me more irritated.

There is just no way I can justify the existence of the anime original characters they constructed to pad this show. They're tissues in a push-up bra, and the bra is an A cup. I did not enjoy myself when Miki Mk. II was on screen. I don't even know the name of the gay track star, and I can't recall why he looked like the butterflies guy. Things kept right on happening to these guys with little significance and no regard to pacing. I didn't care about them. Why should I? They run track and they're real mad about some personal stuff. Personal stuff that would have been better suited to the monster of the week than a permanent fixture of the cast. There ya go. That's them!

And Regular Miki. I know people love her, but... She's so very average. I didn't feel that way about Manga Miki, but I do about Anime Miki. There's not a spoken line of hers that I don't think I could find a million other anime dream girls reciting in a million other shows. I wish her speech would've touched me on some personal level, but it didn't. It was washed-out, generic positivity, and it rang hollow in my ears.

There's no way I can give this show any lower than a 6 just from the production quality alone. There's too much soul in it to insult it that way. But it rates lower than that in my heart of hearts, under the brutal scrutiny of my pitiful little fanboy feelin's. This show was meant to be a statement on humanity. This franchise has always been a statement on humanity. I wouldn't have minded if they wanted to present us with something more optimistic than the manga. If they could have handled that optimism well, I would have been happy for it. But it wasn't handled well. It could have been, but it wasn't. If only there were fewer mediocre raps, fewer pointless characters with irrelevant problems, and a little more introspection. Maybe then. But not in this world, not in this time.

I'm crying, too.

A rating of "9" might seem like a generous score for a story that left me with a mounting confusion right up until the very end, but that only goes to show how immensely meaningful the experience of Yuureitou was for me. I'd like to preface this by noting that I, myself, am FtM, and that I dived head first into this manga the second I heard that there was an explicitly transgender lead, but although I was enthusiastic to see a trans man as a protagonist I'm not a believer that "any representation" equates to "good representation." If I find fault with something, I ... won't go easy on it just because it's inclusive. Hopefully that indicates that the opinions I formed aren't too biased.

The biggest thing you HAVE to know about this manga is that Tetsuo is respected for who he is. It is absolutely imperative that you know this before you start, because at the beginning, it's not completely obvious that this will be the case. In fact, if you're familiar with just about any form of media involving FtMs out there, you might think that he won't turn out to be trans at all. You might think that, just like almost all potential FtM characters out there, his feelings will not turn out to be valid. You might worry that, yet again, a trans character's gender dysphoria will be magically cured by a makeover or a bland compliment about their "true" feminine energy. That is not Yuureitou.

Yuureitou is a manga that pretends to be that trope. It pretends to have a straight male protagonist, it pretends that Tetsuo is just fanservice to a niche, it pretends that the MC is only attracted to Tetsuo's body. And then, after pretending it's not a love story, it becomes one of the most stirring gay romances I've ever read.

The manga makes a serious effort to be grotesque. I'm a fan of the grotesque, so naturally I was pleased. Its visuals were a perfect fit for what it was trying to be. Somewhere in between Tokyo Ghoul and I Am A Hero, it had a card for every shade on the spectrum between sexual, psychological and pure horror. Its characters always seemed to have an expression hidden behind an expression. One of the characters is just... Every kind of creepy. Which is less my thing, but bearable, since all the other characters hate him too. Its environments were well-presented and oppressive, although I had no idea that the story took place in the 50's until a few volumes in.

Initially I thought the story was going to be a series of monster-of-the-week type adventures with only the two main characters, Tetsuo and Taichi, as the unifying variable between them, but gradually it revealed itself as one long, sprawling plot, centering around Tetsuo. Knowing that it was all ultimately connected made me much more amicable towards the left field developments each new chapter invented for me. I think if I were to go back and reread them with the knowledge I have now, I would enjoy them a lot more than I did.

Even still, Tetsuo, Taichi, and their relationship remain my favorite aspect and my greatest motivator for another read. Taichi in particular is an interesting character for me because I wasn't entirely convinced I was going to like him by the start. He was marketed as your milquetoast "NEET" protagonist, but that is hardly how his character is presented. The only relevance his "NEET" status plays is in a practical decision mentioned much, much later in the series, and a pretty cute initial bonding moment between him and Tetsuo. He's dorky and nerdy, but not in a chintzy way. He never goes on long, annoying rants about his hyperfixations. He is self-aware and open-minded and good just for the sake of being good. I'm still surprised and delighted by how genuine he felt, actually. Tetsuo, in contrast to Taichi's more optimistic disposition, has a cold, secretive, and inscrutable side. He has irons in the fire. There are things that need to be done and he's got the balls (ha) to try to do them, or die trying. There are times when he's around Taichi where he cuts loose, and underneath his exterior he is actually a loving person, but he has spent his life crafting a persona to manipulate a society which denies him and it shows.

When it comes to Tetsuo's transness, there are a few glaring flaws that mar an otherwise perfect depiction. It's mentioned in the manga that he takes HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy, testosterone in Tetsuo's case), but it's pretty obvious that the mangaka didn't know how testosterone affects the body. Tetsuo remains voluptuously curvy (and is thereby exploited for fanservice, which I firmly believe lies at the fault of the publisher and not the author), doesn't grow any obvious hair, and after being off them for a period of time, he even redevelops a "feminine" pitch to his voice, which... just... Does not happen. But the personal, psychological aspect of his story, his journey through transition, his depression, his oppression, it is all... Amazing. Realistic. Relatable. There's a point where he objectifies his own body to separate himself from it mentally, which is absolutely something I did before I had the means to transition. It is worth it for little details like that.

At the end, Tetsuo still a man. He doesn't give up, because Taichi doesn't give up on him. Taichi respects him and his identity, and sometimes that's all it takes to save a life. That is the moral Yuureitou will leave you with.

Hands down the best LGBT manga I've ever read. If you're a part of the LGBT community, chances are that you'll find yourself in here.

Written by the nonbinary (or Gender X, as it's known in Japan) mangaka, Yuuki Kamatani, it features a wider range of gender expression in its characters than I have seen anywhere else, all the way from the tame, pussyfooting nonconformity found in many of the shoujo greats to the straightforwardly trans narrative of Hourou Musuko. There are gays of every kind, for every age, trans and cis, masculine and feminine and neither and both, and an asexual, too. They all ... belong to a do-gooding club for gays, and they support each other as both friends and family.

Over the years, I have had a great deal of difficulty finding works that handle LGBT issues sensibly, and even greater difficulty finding works that I felt like I could relate to as a man. I could name quite a few fantastic yuri with groundbreaking LGBT themes, but I mean, they're yuri. They're obviously not focused on exploring, uh. Masculine themes. Yaoi is shamelessly marketed toward straight women, and bara remains ensconced in the underground world of R18 doujin, so where does one turn for recognition?

Shimanami is definitely a good place to start. Though it might immediately strike you as yaoi from the art style alone, it retains only the airy, poignant beauty of the genre, and dumps all the insensitive fetishism in favor of an audacious exploration of the average everyday gay lifestyle. It is a meticulously illustrated, anxious, elated, rambling train of thought celebrating the gay lifestyle. It is a frustrated shout into the open air, a desperate plea to be understood, a promise of compassion to everyone that is brave enough to try to understand. It expresses thoughts and feelings I have always felt somewhere below the surface but could never quite put into words. It confronts the vagueness of internalized homophobia without regurgitating unpalatable stereotypes. It even touched upon the unique and bewildering experience of being closeted in public with no way to speak out against hatred and ignorance in your company, only to find that a total stranger is willing to do it for you. That's something I've never seen done before.

Since Shimanami is a manga so devoted to the experience, it is more about the drama than the characters. I would say that each character has their own voice, and their stories carry them in a way that never makes them feel boring, but I can't picture anyone drawing 50 pieces of fan art for one of them-- If that makes sense. Their lives outside the club and the drama surrounding it aren't particularly relevant, and frankly, they don't have to be. It is maybe a yard of shallow water in an Olympic swimming pool deeper than your toes can touch. If you have even the slightest interest in LGBT lifestyles; If you are drowning in a sea of straightness, gasping for that fresh gay air; If you want to develop a more nuanced understanding of us and the way we live-- Give it a read. I don't think you'll be disappointed.