Fragments of Horror by Junji Ito. My rating: three stars
Junji Ito is known for being a bit, well, odd. I’ve reviewed some of his other works, and I’ve enjoyed them for the most part. This collection, however, didn’t seem to strike the same fantastic chord in me, and I’m still trying to decide whether it’s due to some duff stories, or because I’m a bit more tuned into his method of writing.
If you’ve read any Junji Ito before, you’ll be pretty aware of the sort of things you’re going to get in Shiver, a collection of his best work, gathered together and presented with brief commentary from the creepmaster himself.
If you’ve not read any Ito before, you might well want a stiff drink or a change of undies. ‘Cause shit’s going to get weird.
This is the first of Tezuka’s works I’ve read. I’ve known about his work since I was very small, thanks to Astro Boy and Kimba The White Lion television reruns. But this is the first unquestionably adult text of his I’ve engaged with.
So after a bit of a break – a couple of these in a row is more than enough candy popcorn for anyone – I’m back into the world of imprisoned, superpowered teens, and the creepy overlords that love [to experiment on] them.
As expected, it’s more of the same. By which I mean INCREDIBLE VIOLENCE and some creepy fan service for boob-focused shut-ins.
Well, it’d seem I’m cutting through these collections the way prison-toilet wine cuts through intestinal lining. Time for some thoughts on another hilarious collection of lost moments from a horrific human research facility masquerading as a prison.
I’ve almost got it. Can you explain a little more, though?
Back on this again. Deadman Wonderland remains a decent break from more taxing literature, given that you’ll always be assured of some grimly violent fighting and some embarrassed-teen interchanges in ready supply.
And corpse biscuits. Don’t forget the corpse biscuits.
Frankenstein is a story that most people are familiar with. Whether you’ve read Shelley’s original or no, you’re probably aware of the general thrust of the story thanks to films modern and classic. You know: creation, exclusion, and that it’s his Dad’s name, not the monster’s. So what can be brought to another adaption of the work?
To be fair, there’s fuck-all else to do on an Arctic journey. Talk away, Vic.