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“Wife and Wife” is a Slice-of-Life Comedy that focuses on the innocent and flirtatious hijinks of the titular couple Suu and Kina, as well as their woman-loving-woman community. “Wife and Wife” does not necessarily stand out as a Slice-of-Life piece; It is not uniquely grounded in fantasy or reality, its pacing is unremarkable, it isn’t especially funny, and it doesn’t bring a new perspective to the outside world or draw you in with its characters more than other Slice-of-Life pieces I’ve interacted with. That being said, if you have seen the other reviews I’ve done so far, you can imagine why I experience it as ... such a novelty and relief to find a Yuri piece so unconcerned with despair, realism, or fetishization. Where many Yuri Dramas insist on acceptance for same gender attraction on the basis of how much one is willing to suffer for love, “Wife and Wife” presents a pre-existing, simple, and joyous love between two women as proof enough that such couples should (and do) exist. “Wife and Wife” was by many measures average, but I still couldn’t help but be charmed by its belief in love in many forms. I would love to see more works by this author in the future, and I hope there will be more comedy entries in the Yuri genre.

Let me just begin by saying: wow. “Moonlight Flowers” is probably the most devastating media I’ve interacted with since the movie “Requiem for a Dream”, and this devastation is driven home by uncomfortably true to life examples of misogynist and homophobic violence. I must concede, “Moonlight Flowers” is ultimately a hopeful story of two women who are able to express love for one another even within the context of a world not built to accommodate their or any woman’s realities, but the pages the book takes to reach that hope are a grave and difficult read made more difficult by the fact that it reflects ... the realities of many people today who have experienced compulsive heterosexuality and interpersonal abuse. Unusual for the Yuri I’ve read so far, this story is very forward and obvious about the points it’s trying to make, often giving space for tangential dialogue that explores the intimate details of what it’s like to come to terms with being gay and what it means to be a woman in the modern world. As someone who is accustomed to more reserved storytelling in this genre, I actually found the bluntness quite refreshing regardless of whether it was indicative of a stronger or weaker writing style, and in the context of so devastating a story I think celebrating the reality of coming out to one’s self was a much needed reprieve.

One aspect of “Moonlight Flowers” that surprised me was an unusually nuanced analysis of mens’ role in patriarchy. The main man in the story is in many ways despicable, he is unfaithful, he doesn’t put in the work to understand the emotional turmoil of his wife, he threatens and enacts homophobic violence, and ultimately he participates in both the active and passive rape of the woman he claims to love. All this being the case, I really did believe in the emotional turmoil he was experiencing of his wife slowly pulling away. The husband undoubtedly benefits from patriarchal and homophobic systematic violence and wields this violence directly against our protagonist who is on the receiving end of this violence, but he is also harmed by the existence of heteropatriarchy and for much of the story is not much more complicit than the average man. Despite being a despicable man, the husband really does want a loving marriage, and it isn’t his fault that she lives in a world that pushed her to get married to someone she is incapable of being attracted to. For this reason the compassion towards the husband at the end of the story really fascinated me. It goes without saying that the main lesbian couple suffer most in this story, and I don’t want to brush that under the table, but I think it was important to point out that heteropatriarchy harms all, and that the heterosexual ideal of what love and marriage should be is damaging people left and right, something I know to have been true when this manga was published and true now.

If you can stomach a story that deals with intimate experiences of misogyny and homophobia, specifically within the context of an abusive relationship, then I think this story will fascinate, move, and possibly even vindicate you. “Moonlight Flowers” is an extremely important narrative that I am surprised to have only just learned about.

(I was unable to locate the "Voyage" short story, so I will only be reviewing "Bruges" and "A San Francisco Story.)

I can confidently say that the two short stories contained within “Applause” are not only the most heartbreaking and moving manga I have reviewed on this account so far, but that they are now among my favorite comics and media as a whole. Period. End statement. “Bruges” deals directly with the history and associated anguish of same gender love captured in early Yuri Tragedies, as well as the anguish many real same gender attracted people have experienced, whereas “A San Francisco Story” acts as ... a more confrontational look at Class S and girls culture homosocial relationships and how it impacts an adult who grew up with that. In both cases “Bruges” and “A San Francisco Story” act as both a loving homage to the micro genres they are made in response to while also upheaving and healing the baggage associated with those tropes in a grounded yet bold and brave way. The relationships and emotions in both stories are complicated and multi-faceted, yet fully contained in the context of these Yuri shorts. I was and still am quite shocked at how full, rounded, complete, and moving both “Bruges” and “A San Francisco Story” come across for essentially both being one shots, and despite the fact that I am craving more by the mangaka Kyouko Ariyoshi, I feel completely comfortable leaving both stories where they concluded. “Applause” exists beyond the confines of the ‘wholesome’ vs. ‘unsafe’ yuri debate and rather than ignoring the dangers and trauma of same gender attracted women it actively tackles these topics and recreates pure beauty. If you have love in your heart read “Applause”. If you’d like to have love in your heart read “Applause”. If you have given up on love read “Applause” anyways, maybe it will give you hope.

The one-shot, “That’s Why I Sigh”, was a really pleasant change of pace in contrast with the many other Yuri Dramas I read this week. To be fair, I have enjoyed everything I have reviewed up to this point, whether that enjoyment came from the success or failure of that manga as narrative, but what helps “That’s Why I Sigh” stand out among those entries is it’s restraint and grounded approach to conflict without glossing over it’s themes or simplifying its story. It was really refreshing to see a very believable lesbian character from an outside perspective even if the protagonist wasn’t necessarily my favorite, ... and the relationships both pre-existing and incidental felt very real and fleshed out in this one-shot. There are lovely and interesting parallels in this story, whether that be between different generations of LGBT+ individuals, trauma versus attraction, or the unrequited affections of a straight boy versus a lesbian. There are unfortunate implications in this story regarding what makes a healthy relationship to love and attraction, but “That’s Why I Sigh '' was told so gently and in such an interesting manner that I am more than willing to overlook that in favor of recommending this short story. Give “That’s Why I Sigh” a read, it’s a lovely and engaging story that strives for emotional honesty.

“The Couple in the White Room” is a fun but cheap thrill which just so happens to be what many consider the first true Yuri. This manga can come off as needlessly dramatic and exploitative of marginalized experiences, but both despite and because of that, I would highly recommend consuming this book as the trashy pulp novel it is. If you let yourself be drawn into the vortex of emotion there are striking moments that run at a decent pace. This may not be the most memorable Yuri, but I would happily give this a soft recommendation to anyone who is undeterred by the Tragedy ... genre.

“The Rows of Cherry Trees'' is a sweet and delicate story of passion between female classmates that “balance[s] deliciously between Ukiyo-e prints and modern manga, with both narrated stills and panels with dialogue.” (Erica Friedman, okazu.yuricon.com). Though not quite the first manga, Shoujo, Class S work, or proto-Yuri, the book in many ways acts as a transitional piece and a significant influence on all the aforementioned mediums and genres, giving a unique window into how classic Japanese art helped develop more modern Japanese media styles of today. In the context of modern manga “The Rows of Cherry Trees” comes across as quite restrained, and ... perhaps even slow and uneventful. I am not meaning to communicate that “The Rows of Cherry Trees'' is a bad or uninteresting manga, but it is an artwork of its own accord meant to be consumed on its own terms, and when approached as such it does have the ability to be truly moving, if not just a delightful and fascinating look into manga history. This story predates Yuri as we are familiar with it today, but even for a lightly seasoned Yuri fan it is not hard to see how the intimate (likely) platonic relationships between girls in stories such as this helped develop and set the tone for more explicitly LGBT+ narratives for years to come. Personally I was very surprised by the power of one scene in particular in which Yukiko and Chikage see a ballet of a swan being hunted and killed, a ballet I couldn’t help but see as a metaphor for the inevitability of heteropatriarchal powers awaiting our adolescent characters once they should leave the supposed safety of emerging girl’s culture offered to them by schooling. Scenes such as this are not explicit in what they are communicating or why they were included beyond the apparent beauty of the artwork, but if you are familiar with the early Yuri works and the history surrounding them, you will have the chance to have emotional connections such as these.

I would not recommend this work to an early manga or Yuri initiate, and despite the beauty this will take a steeling of one’s nerves to continue paying attention, short as the manga is, but if you have any interest in the history of manga, Shoujo, Class S, or Yuri I would say this is a must read.

With all respect to the small but dedicated fanbase who keep this nearly 50 year old series alive, “Dear Brother” is in many ways a forgotten, or rather overlooked, classic that offers a unique and exhilarating view into the formation of Shoujo as a serious method of storytelling. Drama and Romance at its best is not only its situations but rather its characters which drive and react to said situations, and “Dear Brother” excels at just that with not only an interesting and charming protagonist who has an intimate understanding of herself and her desires but also an even more impressive background cast capable of ... striking fear into the reader as well as garnering affection. This subtly anti-authoritarian story is conveyed rather excitingly through Ikeda’s (still) avant-garde panel layout and dramatic framing, and is an inspiration I would very much like to be pulled from in the future of manga and comics as a whole. Unfortunately this use of the medium can also be a weakness, as it is overused. Characters are so often overtly expressive and strikingly framed that it can be difficult to tell what are meant to be passing reactions from genuine devastation, making the tone feel a bit one note.

“Dear Brother” is in many ways emblematic of more troubling and problematic aspects of Shoujo and Yuri, but I would argue that while many topics are handled imperfectly there are many scenes carried out with far more tact than what I am accustomed to today both within and outside these genres. The character Rei Asaka’s substance abuse can feel like a parody of itself at times, but I am also hard struck to give multiple examples of modern media that treat teenagers’ addictions with the severity such situations require, something “Dear Brother” is not afraid to do. I would also argue that “Dear Brother” succeeds as a Yuri even before the expectations of the genre were set in place. Nanako is willing to explore her feelings towards Rei not only within the confines of the relationship, but even outside of it, and it is very easy to assume that Nanako will continue to experience attraction to women even after the events of the manga. I am by no means arguing that “Dear Brother” is a pure and revolutionary expression of gender and sexuality, but I would argue that it does outpace many modern stories with similar themes because of Ikeda’s passion and authenticity.

Overall I would really like to see more manga fans engage with “Dear Brother” on a serious level, regardless of whether or not they have interest in Shoujo and Yuri, and for that reason I would recommend this series to anyone who is willing to delve into its darker subject matter.

“Maya’s Funeral Procession'' is a delectable early 1970’s Shoujo drama that captures it’s thrilling story through strikingly severe visuals. This manga is one of the works that helped establish and reinforce early Yuri tropes, yet it still has much to offer as a succinct and fast paced melodrama beyond the historical intrigue of the work. Despite being so brief this manga makes good work of symbolism and foreshadowing, and unique among the Shoujo genre, it does a good job showing and not telling when it comes to characterization. I would have preferred this manga have the runtime to more fully explore it’s characters and their ... motivations, as well as more time for dramatic events to settle and gain traction so we could truly see the impact, but as far as I’m concerned this is a must read for lovers of early Yuri and Shoujo works.

I really wanted to like “Hatshepsut”, and despite it being below average, it had the makings of a great story. In my heart “Hatshepsut'' is a fascinating epic gender bending historical drama with a supernatural twist, and while those elements are present, this story is a failure of engaging writing I know to be below this esteemed mangaka’s capabilities, especially at this point in her career. “Hatshepsut”’s frustrating narrative elements, (including but not limited to its unlikable lead characters), are outpaced only by its boring and barely comprehensible structure. “Hatshepsut''’s value lies primarily in its place as an example of what half-baked Shoujo of the ... late 80s looked like, but outside of satisfying that morbid curiosity there isn’t much to be gained from reading this piece.

Generally when I compare a Yuri work to its Class S predecessors I mean that fondly. “Sweet Blue Flowers”, “Girlfriends”, “Revolutionary Girl Utena”: all of these works are among my favorites, not only of Yuri, but of all media, and it is through their homages to the works that come before that they achieve the effects they do. “Blue Friend” brazenly wears the same influences as these great works, but when I say that “Blue Friend” is essentially a more modern Class S work, I mean that in the most unfortunate way possible accompanied with all the baggage of the Shoujo genre.

Though in many ways ... it seems like a defunct relic of the past that I am aghast to believe was released in 2011, “Blue Friend'' does succeed as a messy fast-paced Drama that keeps your attention. At no point in the story did I lose interest, even if it was at times frustration that powered me through the manga. That being said the story does fail as a Yuri. Erica Friedman, Yuri’s foremost English-speaking scholar, describes much of the Yuri genre as “lesbian content without lesbian identity”, a cutting but accurate critique, and I was disappointed to learn that “Blue Friend" is hardly even lesbian content- sporting a not only a straight, but a homophobic lead. “Blue Friend” if nothing else is entertaining and irresponsible, and as this is a re-read of my first Yuri, (and therefore also a re-reading of one of my first LGBT+ narratives), I really wanted to celebrate this imperfect piece as progressive for its time in its own right- this was not the case. Though “Blue Friend” touched upon a lot of things I was struggling with at the time I first read it as a 15 year old, such as P.T.S.D., awkward social behavior, suicidal ideation, gender nonconformity, and repressed same gender feelings, I am not comforted that this was my first exposure to many of those topics, rather I am enlightened to a failure of the media that raised me. While I would have liked to see “Blue Friend"s heavy subject matter handled, if not tactfully and maturely, at least authentically, the manga is saved from a lower rating by being easily accessible and gripping for the reader. All of this having been said, if you want a messy Yuri story that deals with heavy topics in a way still intended for a teenage audience, I recommend you instead check out the manga published up to 50 years prior to this work I will be writing about down the line.