“Can manga tell stories with a depth and nuance that can rival the classics of Anglo-Saxon literature?”

-gong (11:00Am, 24/07/2021)

This is a question that’s been bugging me for the longest time now. Sure, I’ve read more manga than I can feasibly recall, let alone count. Heck, I might know that I hold many of them in high regard, and can vouch for them as a stellar medium, ripe with opportunities to tell unique, personal stories.

Still, how sure can I be that my valuation of these manga as ‘good stories’ is not a product of my unconscious interests mingling with my insular tastes and biases?

Then it hit me like a bag of sledgehammers.

I can’t. Subjectivity is implied.

Okay, (cold) intro complete.

If the preface to this post didn’t provide sufficient warning, the views provided in this post are entirely objective and wholly valid (in my opinion, of course).

To hop right into the contents of this post, “Chainsaw Man” is batshit crazy.

I mean… look at this manga panel and tell me what’s going on.

Everything about it screams ‘Shōnen romp’, and certainly, it holds true to that mindless, reader self-insert teenage violence that Shōnen readers will be sure to latch onto. Yet, it feels to me like Chainsaw Man’s mangaka, Fujimoto Tatsuki, wanted to do something more with it than simply adding to the ever growing list of “teenage boys with magical powers punch things very hard.” Upon rereading it a second time, a few of the possible ways Fujimoto has achieved this came to light, and I’ve conveniently listed them below in the format of a list for easy reference. Please enjoy~ (or don’t lol you can stop reading now that’s fine too.)

1. You don’t feel good reading Chainsaw Man.

Don’t take it from me. Go and read Chainsaw Man for yourself, then come back and decide if you agree with this post or not.

To assume you already have, I don’t think its hard to see why reading Chainsaw Man leaves a slightly sour taste in my mouth. To be clear, I’m not judging Fujimoto’s storytelling capabilities here. In fact, I think he’s being very intentional in how he portrays the world of Chainsaw Man.

While, in large part, the Japan that Chainsaw Man exists in parallels our own, Fujimoto is explicit in reflecting that every being that resides in his world is decaying, be it morally, or physically. There is a lingering darkness that lies beneath his often scratchy, detailed linework of rancid Tokyo back alleys, and this sense of unease that settles upon the nape of reader’s necks from the 1st chapter pushes generates frightening momentum, sending Denji and the rest of his colleagues hurtling toward the brutal final chapter of the first season.

I’m also not sure how to put this into words, but Fujimoto’s depictions of the humans that surround the devilman Denji, are… ugly. Again, this isn’t a critique of his artistic prowess, just a look at Fujimoto’s meticulous, and sometimes beautiful renditions of backgrounds and other characters are more than enough to justify his merits as a mangaka. Rather, it seems to me that Fujimoto seeks to explore the sheer depravity of the human race through his work. All it takes is a quick look at his previous work, “Fire Punch”, and I think it becomes quite evident that Fujimoto holds no high expectations of humanity. Chainsaw Man is no exception to this. To a large extent, it can be said (to keep it brief), that Fujimoto enjoys putting his protagonists through literal hell, before their story even begins. In Denji’s case, he emerges from the pits of Sheol, only to descend further into the darkness of others around him.

Be it the Yakuza, the Devil Hunter’s association, the Devils that the humans contract with, Denji’s fellow devilman, even the humans that Denji interacts with, it appears that every character and being is rendered in equally scummy terms.

And while… this might at first, understandably, seem distasteful, I’ve begun to appreciate this aspect of Chainsaw Man. Not only does it contribute to the overwhelming chaos that serves as the orchestral symphony which acts as Chainsaw Man’s backdrop, I find that on a literary level, Fujimoto’s commitment to portraying people as realistically as possible contributes to the unique edgy tone of his manga.

Contrary to other popular Shōnen, notably those like My Hero Academia and Demon Slayer, and to a lesser extent, Jujutsu Kaisen and HunterXHunter, Denji’s moral compass isn’t just in dire need of a realignment. In fact, it seems as if Denji lacks conventional morality altogether.

This kind of segues to my next point, which is that-

2. Denji is kind of an asshole, but so is everyone else.

I think this point is relatively self-explanatory, and has been explicated upon in the previous point already.

To keep this brief, the fact that Denji’s choices aren’t driven by a typical moral compass ultimately makes him inherently unstable, and extremely unpredictable, to Aki’s chagrin and the reader’s delight. While this does add to the chaotic atmosphere of Chainsaw Man’s balls to walls tonal shifts from humour to tragedy and every emotion in between, I also personally find that Fujimoto’s decision here causes Denji to become more relatable, and interesting as a character.

Because readers aren’t provided the avenue of an opportune conventional protagonist cum hero character, the moral and situational dilemmas that would be easy for an archetypal righteous figure to act upon are instead, incredibly difficult for Denji to process.

Through this, readers are forced to put aside the glamour and idealised glory they associate with Shōnen heroism, and are made to consider what they would do in equally uncomfortable situations.

Oftentimes, the answer is ugly and self-preserving. While it might make your skin crawl, isn’t this a perfect reflection of real life?

It really strikes me that Fujimoto’s wielding of these techniques to burrow under the reader’s skin and confront our relatively sedentary, detached role, adds another layer of complexity to Chainsaw Man’s already surreal plot.

3. Chainsaw Man gets dark, FAST.

To avoid going into spoilers, I’ll leave it at this.

Fujimoto is not playing games, and readers will learn this the hard way. The Tokyo that Denji finds himself in is rife with Devils of all sorts, and above them, the evil of the human heart. Life in Fujimoto’s works are temporary affairs. Tens of chapters can be dedicated to slowly characterising a certain member of Denji’s team, only for said member to be spliced apart in the following arc.

Characters are quick to die, and their deaths aren’t silent, solemn affairs.

Fujimoto loves his gore. Anyone who has read his previous work, “Fire Punch”, can attest to this. The world of Chainsaw Man is cruel, unyielding, and brutal in its valuation of human lives. While the gore never reaches a level that is off-putting, the violence is certainly unpleasant. Still, I would argue this decision is similarly intentional. By presenting a universe that is cold and uncaring, Fujimoto invites readers to question whether societal expectations such as possessing a typical moral code are required to function in an ultimately nihilistic, distorted reality.

In fact, it can be argued that it would be best to not get too attached to any single character in Chainsaw Man. As the last chapter of its first season proves, conventional power-scaling does not apply in Fujimoto’s conception.

Every manner of subject and sub discipline is somehow explored in the 97 chapters of Chainsaw Man’s first season. Be it the sublime, surrealist metaphysical logic, or the inherent fear of the unknown, Fujimoto is quick to put his unique, gory spin on expected manga tropes.

4. Concluding thoughts

Chainsaw Man is weird, and it isn’t afraid to be. In every respect, Fujimoto departs from the classic Shōnen model, and chooses the more uncomfortable method to tell his story. Regardless, this is not to detract from any of Chainsaw Man’s accomplishments. I would argue it is precisely his laser-like focus in displacing readers from their comfortable position of consuming power-scaling mangas, and subverting all expectations, that Fujimoto is able to find the ultimately more interesting route in telling his tale of redemption, power struggle, and friendship.

Ironic, isn’t it? That after all I’ve said about Chainsaw Man, the one theme that runs deep within it is friendship. Still, I’m intrigued that I feel this way. If you have read Chainsaw Man, leave a comment below, I’m interested in continuing this conversation.

Oh, and to answer my question at the start, Chainsaw Man and other great manga (like Oyasumi Pun Pun) have left me with an assured “yes”.

Thanks for reading 🙂

Soli Deo gloria.