Embracing Differences: Lessons from My Brother’s Husband – Manga Review

Life is strange. One moment, we find ourselves surrounded by family and friends. These are people who we believe have our best interests at heart, provide valuable counsel on our beliefs and convictions, and accept us for who we are and who we wish to be. But, now and then, life presents a situation where those very people seem like strangers. In their place, someone else comes along. Someone we have never met before. Someone who, with no immediate cause or reason, and by the simple honesty of their actions, becomes family.

This is the reality that hits Yaichi, a work-at-home suburban dad in contemporary Tokyo. Formerly married to Natsuki and father to their young daughter Kana, Yaichi’s life takes a turn when a hulking Canadian named Mike Flanagan arrives at their doorstep. But Mike is no ordinary person. He is the widower of Yaichi’s estranged gay twin, Ryoji. What follows is a melancholic and beautiful story, authored by the critically acclaimed Gengoroh Tagame, that sheds light on the highly closeted Japanese gay culture and how the next generation can positively influence its future.  

Confronting Differences

For Yaichi, Mike’s arrival is akin to opening Pandora’s box. Hidden within its depths aren’t sickness, death, and misfortune, but Yaichi’s own inhibitions, fears, regrets, remorse, and apathy. As the story unfolds, Yaichi wrestles with these emotions in extended inner monologues, amid moments that highlight the disruptive influence of Mike’s presence.

These monologues are brutally straightforward and describe the void that separates Mike’s world from Yaichi’s and vice versa. Their relationship, in its infancy, involves a fair share of prejudices and veiled preconceptions that Yaichi holds about Mike’s identity as a gay man. Yaichi feigns ignorance as a coping mechanism. While he is aware of his personal inhibitions, Yaichi takes the easy way out, rather than coming to terms with his feelings. Mike’s arrival forces Yaichi to face his inner demons.

It is a rocky start. Both men are seemingly lost on how to proceed with their relationship as in-laws. On one side, we have Yaichi wrestling with his twin’s past. On the other hand, we have Mike, who wishes to complete his family. It is like an awkward tea party, until Kana comes along.

Our Children Are a Reflection of Us

“Daddy has a brother?! Men can marry each other?! Is that even allowed?!”

“Well, it’s like…In Japan, it’s not allowed, but I guess it’s possible in other parts of the world.”

“Huh? That’s weird. It’s weird that it’s ok over there, but not here.”

Growing up, we are taught about the systematic rules that govern our day to day lives. Somewhere along the way, we lose our ability to question and engage, as well as our capacity to change the world dynamically. Early childhood remains an exception. Filters are meaningless to children. They don’t see the world the way we do as adults. It is their greatest strength, and it is what makes them so damn endearing. It is also for this very reason that we adults have to keep ourselves in check. Our behavior, worldview, and the answers we provide to their questions are crucial. It is not an easy task, and in many cases, it is through our eyes that our children’s worlds often lose their colors.

Yaichi is cautious in his approach to raising Kana. Mike’s appearance throws a wrench in what is a mistakenly ignorant lifestyle. Unlike her father, Kana has no inhibitions and becomes immediately attached to her Canadian uncle. Her curiosity and willingness to ask complex questions often catch both men off guard. At the same time, Kana’s innocence guides the two men to have the conversations they need. Gradually, Yaichi begins to change, and as he does, he begins to recognize the weight of his responsibility as a father. He understands the burden he has inadvertently placed upon his daughter. Kana never needed protection from Mike. Rather, he had been protecting himself from coming to terms with his past.

Chasing Shadows

There is one more thing children are great at, and that is calling out adults for their double standards. Especially true when it is about making excuses for ourselves. Kana does the same to Yaichi, setting the stage for the latter to accept his shortcomings as a brother and a father. This ultimately enables Yaichi to seek redemption.

With Mike for company, he relives the childhood memories of his brother; memories buried deep in his heart. The resulting journey is one of fulfillment for both men and something that brings the whole family together. Yaichi’s redemption operates on multiple levels, illustrating how every individual is a product of various threads of influence, including family, cultural stereotypes, religious beliefs, and traditions. On the other hand, helping Yaichi through this process also ensures that Mike fulfills his husband’s wish for the latter to meet his family. From being reluctant about Mike’s presence in their lives, by the conclusion of the story, Yaichi feels encouraged by his company. Finding happiness in their differences, he openly states that Mike is a part of his family.

That pieces together the final message of the story. In this world, our lives are a transient phenomenon. There are very few who we get to meet, know, live with, and who live for us. In the short time that we have together, rather than dividing ourselves over our differences, let’s live with acceptance.

Gengoroh Tagame

The author of dozens of graphic novels, Gengoroh Tagame’s past works have primarily catered to the adult gay manga audience. My Brother’s Husband is his first all-ages title and an Eisner award-winning title at that. In a dramatic change from the graphic depictions of hypermasculinity, sadomasochism, and sexual violence common to his works, Tagame relies on various cultural motifs to elevate and distinguish the polarizing and heartbreaking nature of life in a highly closeted Japanese gay culture. My personal favorite in My Brother’s Husband involves varying cultural interpretations of otherwise structured sushi dishes to relate to Yaichi’s changing perception of Mike.

My Brother’s Husband is a heart-warming story describing how familial connections can originate from surprising corners of the world. The world is not as big as it used to be. Social media has contributed to this, and we are all caught up in its rapid frenzy, some of which is not entirely positive. My Brother’s Husband switches up the pace. It is heartbreaking, yet hopeful. It is painful, yet healing. It asks us to slow down and look around. It asks us to not throw our judgments upon others so haphazardly. It asks us to be willing to have a conversation. All this and more, in a beautifully rendered story that emphasizes the importance of compassion.

Moving on…

I started writing a journal right around the time of my grandfather’s passing. I believe my decision to do so was in an effort to confront a loved one’s death and a reaction to what was a coming-of-age experience. I’ve kept up with my journal to this day, and it now serves as a treasure trove of memories.

Memories are a powerful emotion. My writing has largely been inspired by the experiences I have had over the course of my life. Along the way, I have gradually collected a library of the same, in my journal, that I’ve come to value dearly.

A few months ago, I posted a review on Will Eisner’s graphic novels. Among the ones I read, The Building left a long-lasting impression. Its premise focused on a building that served as the setting for the drama that brought together the story’s cast of characters. With the passing of time, the building’s subsequent aging and the corresponding circumstances reflect pivotal moments in each character’s life and their attachment to a building that has become synonymous with their life’s travails.

When my grandfather passed away, the decision was made for renovations to be done and for his home to be rented out to another family. I, on the other hand, was adamant that the house and its contents be left as they were, serving as a memorial in remembrance of the wonderful moments my family and I had shared with my grandfather in its quarters. In retrospect, I believe my frustrations were born of my unwillingness to let go but in due time I would do exactly that, leaning instead towards the descriptive passages of my journal to remember the irreplaceable memories of my grandfather and his home where I had spent much of my childhood. That was more than a decade ago.

Now, 29 years old, I found myself doing the same on the occasion of the passing of a close friend and mentor. Here too there was a venue, another building to remember. Gathering my accessories I traveled back in time to revisit it, allowing those memorable moments I had shared with my mentor to wash over the closeted corners of my mind. At times, a part of me wondered if my efforts were futile in nature and  no different than the actions of my younger counterpart, in my inability to let go.

An answer initially felt out of reach but looking back at Eisner’s The Building I was able to string together a response. I realized that my struggle wasn’t about an inability to let go but a work in progress to accept a natural ritual of life we all experience at some point in our lives. It is in many ways similar to writing a story, and one that allows us to cherish the past while continuing our individual journey in the present.

It is a story that offers the bittersweet truth that time will always continue to flow forward. Often, this reality leaves us restless. It drives us to reach out to our memories, snapshots that somehow provide a semblance of permanence and peace, against the inevitable tempest of change.

At the same time, understanding this has also helped me realize how important it is to cherish the present, and to learn to live in the moment. What better can we do in memory of our loved ones than by living those moments that made us together, and sharing them with those who make our present in an eternal tribute.

William Erwin Eisner – A Perspective

Before quarantine became the new norm, there was a store a few minutes from my apartment that I would frequent on a weekly basis called Wee Book Inn.

A used bookstore, Wee Book Inn was my go-to destination whenever I fancied a random late night walk and on many occasions, casual dates with my partner. (The cat is also awesome.)

Apart from their diverse collection of literature, I was drawn to the venue as they also offered a healthy collection of comic books, often in very good condition, for their modest pricing. Needless to say, I’ve been a ravenous customer, and have trounced on any opportunity to land some good titles. In my efforts to explore the graphic novel medium over the last few years, Wee Book Inn has served as a wonderful resource for inspiration.

My most recent purchase of a collection of William Eisner’s graphic novels was the figurative equivalent of hitting jackpot. Prior to the purchase, I had only ever heard the name “Eisner” as part of the “Eisner Award” winning icon that graced the covers of popular and successful comic books. It wasn’t until after my discovery of the graphic novels that I realized Eisner was a prominent graphic novelist himself (I agree, it’s kinda stupid that I didn’t make this connection beforehand).

Will Eisner - Wikipedia

So far, I have finished reading two of his titles: Life on Another Planet and The Building. Eisner’s intricate penmanship on top of his unique presentation of panels and sequential storytelling immediately caught my attention. Much of Eisner’s graphic novels were published in the late 1970s in what have been early examples of the American graphic novel medium. In reading his works, it was easy to recognize the foundational aspects of Eisner’s penmanship in modern day comics and graphic novels. His style was reminiscent of the weekly newspaper cartoon strips I had read during my childhood in India.

It came as no surprise to find out that Eisner was also one of the earliest cartoonists to work in the American comic book industry with his earlier series The Spirit (1940-1952) setting a standard in experimentation of content and form in the graphic medium.

It was also easy to recognize the repetitive but endearing theme that characterizes much of Eisner’s works: humanity. Eisner’s graphic novels focus on the human psyche and its vulnerabilities through characters whose worlds seem to be a mote of dust against the larger order that is life.

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In Life on Another Planet, knowledge of first contact with an alien civilization becomes a reflection of tragic human foibles expressed in the collective and individual responses of governmental organizations, religious pariahs, and all the way down to homeless and impoverished individuals.

Meanwhile, in The Building, Eisner does a reverse sweep in humanizing a building through its relation to the lives of four different characters ranging from an anonymous citizen driven by guilt for the death of a child, a woman trapped in a marriage of convenience, a real-estate developer obsessed with aging, and an amateur musician whose music accompanies the drama of the former trio.

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Under the light of current circumstances in our world, the events of Life of Another Planet  were eerily relatable. The same could be said of The Building though the readers’ relationship to the characters originate from our personal memories toward past experiences and attachments in life (be it another person or an artifact).

Eisner wrote several graphic novels until his death in 2005. Many of his novels  converged in relating the history of New York’s immigrant communities, particularly Jews (elements of which is very notable in The Building). I was also lucky enough to purchase Eisner’s Graphic Storytelling and Visual Narrative where he details his thoughts as a lecturer about the craft and uses of sequential art.

As a student of the graphic novel medium, and as an ardent reader, I would highly suggest Eisner’s works to anyone interested in well-balanced examples of the art of story-telling.