The Green Dreams of Kyō Machiko’s Manga

At this year’s Modern Language Association conference, I’m looking forward to giving a paper about historical memory, ecocriticism, and the work of the superstar manga artist Kyō Machiko. My paper is titled “The Green Dreams of Kyō Machiko’s Manga,” and I’ll be presenting in Session 658, “The Future of Graphic Narrative in Japan,” at 1:45pm on Sunday, January 11.

Let me share my abstract for the paper here:

Kyō Machiko is a graduate of Tokyo University of the Arts, and she won the prestigious Tezuka Osamu New Artist Prize in 2014. She’s since published more than two dozen books while attracting upwards of ninety thousand followers on her account on Instagram. In an interview with Matt Hill for The Comics Journal, Kyō explains that translations of her books have been published in Spain, Italy, Taiwan, Vietnam, and Korea, but she has not actively sought English-language publication because, she claims, “I am not a super major author in Japan.” Kyō’s modesty aside, her bibliography is impressive, and she typically publishes at least two softcover manga volumes every year while serializing multiple stories.

In June 2023, Kyō’s publisher Akita Shoten announced that her 2013 graphic novel Cocoon would be adapted into an anime. This film aired on the public broadcasting channel NHK during August 2025. Tateno Hitomi, who worked as an animator on Studio Ghibli films such as Spirited Away, Whisper of the Heart, and The Wind Rises, served as the chief animation producer. The level of care and talent dedicated to this cinematic adaptation is fitting, as Cocoon is an intensely upsetting story about an unfortunate chapter of Japanese history that’s nevertheless important to remember and pass on to future generations.

In this talk, I’ll introduce Kyō Machiko’s work and examine the critical relevance of her political messages. I’ll discuss Cocoon before turning to her more recent graphic novel Kamimachi. The argument I’d like to make is twofold. Specifically in relation to Kyō’s manga, I’ll demonstrate how the artist’s contextualization of characters within their natural environments facilitates an emphasis on the refuge sought by young women navigating a society that refuses to view them as human. As a broader observation that relates to this panel’s theme of “The Future of Manga Studies,” I want to argue that artistic political statements are no less trenchant and cutting when drawn in a “softer” style often associated with more entertainment-focused media.

If you’re interested in the subject of this presentation, I published an article about “Nature and War Memory in Kyō Machiko’s Cocoon” on Women Write About Comics (here), and I posted an informal reflection on the artist’s manga Kamimachi on my Japanese fiction blog (here).

The Annotated Kitab al-Azif on The New Absurdist

I’m excited to announce that my short story “The Annotated Kitab al-Azif” is free to read on The New Absurdist here:

📖 https://newabsurdist.com/editors-picks/the-annotated-kitab-al-azif/

“The Annotated Kitab al-Azif” is a queer Lovecraftian romance about the slow decline of American academia and the supernatural perils of translation. In this story, a burnt-out Millennial podcaster flees the high rent of Boston and accepts a position as a departmental admin assistant in the suburban Miskatonic University, which is suffering from budget cuts and declining enrollments. During the lull of his first summer on the job, the podcaster meets a grad student working on the Gnostic religious traditions of the southern Mediterranean while attempting a translation of the Kitab al-Azif, more popularly known as the Necronomicon.

As you might imagine, this area of study has consequences for the grad student. The podcaster isn’t too concerned, however. He’s already seen all manner of awful things while doing research online, and why let something as trivial as ageless extradimensional horrors get in the way of a budding relationship?

Though I’ve never accidentally summoned an eldritch abomination, the setting of “The Annotated Kitab al-Azif” is partially based on my own experience as a grad student at the University of Pennsylvania. The “horror” part of this experience is the constant scramble for funding, the awkward negotiations with libraries for access to research material, and the unspoken expectation that you’ll work in decaying buildings that haven’t been maintained since the early twentieth century.

Meanwhile, the “romance” part is the opportunity to share space with people from all over the world. When you use the same office (and the same refrigerator and bathroom) with other people, pre-existing differences in culture, language, and nationality quickly become secondary to the warmth of the personal relationships that form between you. Universities aren’t cultural melting pots by any means, but they’re as good of a place as any to realize that cultural differences really don’t matter all that much in the face of genuine friendship.

Though I’ve largely set aside my ambitions to become a translator, one of the reasons I got into academia was to model the positive change I wanted to see in the broader field of literary studies, especially with regards to de-mystifying stories written by authors from “non-Western” countries. Even when it’s done respectfully, the academic tendency to treat these stories as “subaltern” and “marginalized” is frustrating. To begin with, nobody thinks of their own language and culture as “other”; but, more importantly, people are just people.   

The Necronomicon is an interesting base for an exploration of this theme. In my understanding of the lore of the Cthulhu mythos, the Necronomicon is essentially an expression of popular turn-of-the-century Spiritualism, which was in turn inspired by the various strands of medieval Gnostic thought that sprung up along the Silk Road.

Though this sort of spiritually inclusive worldview may have seemed “mystical” to people living in Christian-majority cultures in the late nineteenth century, it’s completely normal to someone coming from a Buddhist or a Hindu tradition. All things considered, the cyclical view of time and the multidimensional view of space suggested by the Necronomicon are completely normal for many people who weren’t raised as Christian, and it’s interesting to consider the real-world foundations of this infamous fictional text without the narrative trappings of Orientalism.

But also…… What if magic were genuinely real? What then?

I’m grateful to The New Absurdist for taking a chance on this odd piece of weird fiction. I also want to express my appreciation to the story’s cover artists, Katie Rejto and Wally Tigerland, for creating such a unique and intriguing illustration.

If your curiosity is piqued by the prospect of true-to-life dark academia haunted by a touch of cosmic horror, please check out my story on The New Absurdist (here).

The Annotated Kitab al-Azif

My queer Lovecraftian romance, “The Annotated Kitab al-Azif,” was just published in the latest issue of Black Sheep, a magazine for weird fiction. This story treats the gnostic origins of the Necronomicon with respect while being slightly silly about grad students.

You can order a copy of the issue with my story here:

🐙📖 www.amazon.com/dp/B0G25R82TY

It’s very cool to have the opportunity to publish a Lovecraft pastiche in an honest-to-god pulp magazine, which seems appropriate. At the same time, I definitely feel the friction of using Lovecraft’s own tropes to push back against the ugly Orientalism surrounding the Necronomicon.

The truth is that, while I admire Lovecraft, but I wouldn’t consider myself a fan. Rather, I spent a formative part of my childhood in a small town in the Deep South whose public library was severely limited by budget constraints. The only thing remotely close to fantasy fiction they had on their shelves was Stephen King, the lone second volume of Lord of the Rings, and a handful of ancient paperback collections of H.P. Lovecraft.

I didn’t really have the cultural context to understand Stephen King, and I wouldn’t recommend The Two Towers as the place to start reading Tolkien. Lovecraft grabbed me, though. Even as a kid, I understood the xenophobia expressed in Lovecraft’s stories. Believe me, I understood all too well. Still, I guess I was young enough that this wasn’t a dealbreaker, especially since there was nothing else to read during the summer where I practically lived at this tiny little library.

I had more resources the following year, when I started attending an international school in Atlanta and began to read more widely. But Lovecraft stuck with me, and a small but significant goal of my writing now is to try to capture and explain why that is.

I sincerely believe that people should write whatever they want, but a part of me still questions the value of aligning myself with the work of such a problematic author. The truth remains, though, that these Lovecraft stories only occupy a small closet in the house I’m trying to build with my writing. What I want to do is expand the scope of the small rural library that only had room for Stephen King and H.P. Lovecraft, as well as to create space for original work that dismantles the toxic feedback loop of preset responses to human difference.

Much love to Black Sheep magazine for giving a home to this story. 

Review of The Corus Wave on Comics Beat

I really enjoyed writing a review of Karenza Sparks’s debut graphic novel, The Corus Wave, for Comics Beat.

The Corus Wave is a cozy science mystery about a grad student who inadvertently tumbles down a research rabbit hole while writing her thesis about an unusual (and potentially supernatural) fossil. The story quickly becomes a low-stakes Da Vinci Code adventure with a lot of local color borrowed from the artist’s home in Cornwall, and it’s super charming. I really love this book.

Here’s an excerpt from my review:

The Corus Wave is a celebration of the joys of research. The hunt for Corus’ manuscripts begins with a footnote that becomes a rabbit hole, but the story evolves in a more practical direction as the two students find friendship and support in a scholarly community. Their fieldwork provides opportunities to appreciate the human stories behind a built environment whose unique design flourishes might otherwise be taken for granted. The Corus Wave is about going offline and touching grass, the pleasure of which is conveyed through gentle and attractive art that presents lively and expressive characters navigating interior spaces that only reveal their secrets under close observation.

You can read the full review on Comics Beat here:
https://www.comicsbeat.com/graphic-novel-review-the-corus-wave/

In Praise of Moss Disability Zine

In Praise of Moss is a zine that argues against the myth of productivity while celebrating the value of a diversity of contributions to our culture and communities. Not everyone can be a tree, and that’s okay. Moss is an equally important part of an ecosystem.

I wrote this zine from a perspective that respects people of all abilities, but I think it’s important to acknowledge the more challenging aspects of disability. Disabled people are often expected to “pull their weight,” usually with the assumption that there’s only one way to measure success. In addition, people who live with invisible disabilities are often met with frustration and accusations of laziness when we’re unable to work or behave “normally.”

Moss is a useful metaphor for a recontextualization of what it means for disabled people to be useful to our communities and valued in our relationships. By exploring how moss can support an entire ecosystem, we can craft a model for how disability positivity can benefit society.

In addition, moss is remarkably adept at surviving disaster, which makes it an engaging analogy for resistance against the pressures of self-optimization exerted by neoliberal capitalism. While my focus is on disability, I believe that all readers can benefit from a shift in perspective that encourages us to grow naturally without worrying about productivity. 

When I write about “resisting productivity,” I’m speaking from the position of someone in academia who is directly affected by the myth that hard work will lead to prosperity. I hate the way this myth is weaponized against disabled people in the realm of higher education, and I want to destroy it. Very softly and quietly. Like moss.

While I love the lo-fi DIY aesthetic of many of the disability zines I’ve found on Etsy and in indie bookstores, it was important to me to create an attractively formatted physical object that feels good in my hands and accommodates my own disabilities by being easy to read. I want people who encounter this zine to feel that it’s valuable, and that they’re valuable too. I was fortunate to be able to work with Fireball Printing, a local Philadelphia service that creates gorgeous full-color publications.

If you’re interested, you can order a copy of the zine from Etsy, or you can download a free digital version on Itch.io.

🌿 https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/in-praise-of-moss
🌿 https://www.etsy.com/listing/1881401704/in-praise-of-moss-disability-zine

Review of Textual Cacophony

I was honored to write a review for Pacific Affairs of Daniel Johnson’s 2023 monograph Textual Cacophony, a critical analysis of Japanese internet culture between roughly 2006 and 2014. Johnson is especially interested in the anonymous message board 2channel and the video sharing site Niconico, and my review highlights why the online subcultures associated with these sites are still relevant and worth studying. Here’s the opening paragraph:

It’s no secret that a great deal of twenty-first century media has been influenced by internet subcultures; unfortunately, much of this culture has been lost to time. Many emergent online cultures of the 2000s have proved tragically ephemeral, with the scarce documentation that exists often falling into the trappings of cultural nostalgia. Thankfully, Daniel Johnson’s Textual Cacophony: Online Video and Anonymity in Japan functions as a critical analysis that documents and preserves an important moment in Japanese media history that continues to resonate across national borders.

You can read the full review on the Pacific Affairs website here:
https://pacificaffairs.ubc.ca/book-reviews/textual-cacophony-online-video-and-anonymity-in-japan-by-daniel-johnson/

Essay about Elden Ring and Dark Academia

I’m excited to share an essay I wrote for Bloodletter Magazine, a stylish biannual anthology of queer and feminist horror. The piece is titled “Dark Academia for Dark Times: Elden Ring and the Fall of the Academy,” and I’m writing about how the haunted lore of the game’s cursed university reflects real-world academic anxieties. 

You can read the essay here:
https://bloodlettermag.com/dark-academia-for-dark-times-elden-ring-and-the-fall-of-the-academy/

While I use the character Rennala from Elden Ring as an illuminating point of focus, my piece is really about the uncanny connections between the crisis currently facing universities and the social media aesthetic of “dark academia” embraced by young women. I’m arguing that the association of dark academia with the corruption of female bodies reflects deeper concerns regarding the ties between academic liberalism and the decay of imperial privilege. 

Basically: Is the wokeness of postcolonial queer feminism ruining college? I would like to believe that it is, and I think this is kind of neat, actually.

My piece is graced with a creepy spot illustration by the magical Katy Horan, who goes by @goodyhoran on Instagram, and you can follow Bloodletter at @bloodlettermag, where they post eye-catching film stills from indie horror movies created by emerging female directors. 

Essay on WWAC about Machiko Kyō’s Manga Cocoon

I’m proud to have worked with the brilliant editorial team at Women Write About Comics on my essay “Nature and War Memory in Machiko Kyō’s Cocoon,” in which I discuss the imagery that propels the story of a heartbreaking graphic novel about the Pacific War.

An animated cinematic adaptation of Cocoon is scheduled to be released in Summer 2025. This is a high-profile project commissioned by NHK and directed by the veteran Studio Ghibli artist Hitomi Tateno, whose animation credits range from Spirited Away to The Wind Rises.

Although the essay (like the manga itself) should be approached with sensitivity to its content, I hope I was able to offer a small contribution to the international awareness of the narrative work of Machiko Kyō, a celebrated and prolific Japanese artist who has created some of the most groundbreaking manga of the past decade.

You can find my essay about Cocoon (here) on Women Write About Comics, an award-winning venue for media journalism covering pop culture from a diversity of perspectives. I’m extremely grateful for the support and excellent feedback of Emily Lauer (on Bluesky here), whose critical insight illuminates the discussions and reviews of genre fiction on WWAC.

Seeded Ground

Seeded Ground is a twelve-page botanical horror comic about growth. It reads a bit like a supervillain origin story, but I created it as a statement of resistance against the oppressive ideologies of neoliberalism that have lured so many people in my generation into the trap of self-optimization.

You can download a free digital copy of the comic from Itch.io here:
https://digitalterrarium.itch.io/seeded-ground

I was inspired to draw this comic by a tweet written by a respected senior scholar. They argued that assigning at least five pages of writing every week is necessary to maintain “a certain standard of quality” in the undergraduate students who register for their classes.

This tweet inspired me to reflect on an unfortunate aspect of education in the United States. Namely, it’s an unstated but almost universally accepted goal of the formal education system to monopolize students’ time in order to train them to become the sort of adult workers who are willing to devote their lives to their career. An employee at a “good” job is expected to wake up early, commute, spend the entire day at work, and then go home and finish the tasks they didn’t have time to complete at the office. Meanwhile, freelance and part-time workers are expected to be available at any hour of the day, every day of the week, and at short notice. This is messed up, and I hate it.

My own experience as a professional working adult has essentially been the equivalent of that professor’s tweet. Namely, I’ve felt compelled to engage in meaningless work that no one will ever see in order to maintain the pretense of “a certain standard of quality.” Around the time of the pandemic, I got fed up. Was I really supposed to feel guilty about not replying to emails within 24 hours while I was sick with Covid? Fuck that.

These days I’m much more aggressive about enforcing boundaries concerning how much work I’m willing to do, and I can’t even begin to express how much the quality of my life has improved. I have no regrets.

As an epilogue to Seeded Ground, I illustrated a quote from the radical social theorist Herbert Marcuse’s 1964 book One-Dimensional Man: Studies in the Ideology of Advanced Industrial Society:

“If the individual were no longer compelled to prove himself on the market, as a free economic subject, the disappearance of this compulsion would be one of the greatest achievements of civilization.”

And he’s not wrong! I know it’s a twee Millennial stereotype to hate capitalism, but I really do believe that the point of life is not to optimize your performance as an employee. People need room to grow.

And if that growth is impeded? All sorts of bad things can happen. 🌿

Tokyo Stories in Contemporary Japanese Fiction

This spring, I taught a new class called “Tokyo Stories in Contemporary Japanese Fiction.” Here’s the course description…

Tokyo is one of the largest and most vibrant cities in the world. It’s also one of the most storied, laying claim to centuries of history and countless colorful districts and neighborhoods. In this class we will explore Tokyo by delving into a collection of stories set in and around the great metropolis. We will work our way forward in time, beginning with the city’s roots as the samurai capital of Edo. Along the way, we will investigate contemporary themes such as demographic crisis, social stratification, gender trouble, and the ruins of neoliberal capitalism.

Through the study of representative works of contemporary Japanese fiction, this course gives students the opportunity to learn about Japanese values from a diversity of perspectives as we investigate how social and cultural organizations are mapped onto physical space. Our study will incorporate visual media such as films, animation, music videos, fine art, architectural photography, and fashion. Various methods of critical cultural analysis will be modeled in class lectures and practiced during class discussions, and students will be asked to perform their own critical analysis in their written assignments.

By the end of the semester, students will have been exposed to a diverse range of representative authors and cultural concerns that will help them develop a nuanced understanding of Japanese literature, history, and society.

You can download a copy of the course syllabus (here).
I’ve collected PDF copies of the course readings on Dropbox (here).