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The Influence of Manga on the Graphic Novel

Simon Grennan

There is a noticeable, though imperfect, historic parallel between the increase in the readership

of Anglophone manga since the early 1990s and the maturation of concepts of the graphic

novel, as an “Anglophone” comics genre, since the 1980s. According to a number of

approaches, this historic parallel offers opportunities to scrutinize relationships between the

development of the two genres (Couch 2010, Hatfield 2005).In particular, this parallel offers

the opportunity to historicize descriptions of the complex ways in which these emerging

relationships revised diverse practices of visioning, producing and reading comics, in order

either to entrench or transform specific markets and cultures, precipitating new types of product

and creating new types of reading experience.

This chapter will summarize distinctions between the traditions of manga and the graphic

novel, according to a list of key discursive characteristics. It will focus on a number of case

studies that exemplify some foundational activities for the genre of the graphic novel

beween1980 and 2000. According to Laurence Venuti’s descriptions of “foreignization” and

“domestication,” it will discuss ways in which manga practices have been adopted and

transformed by Anglophone markets and readers, relative to the maturation of the graphic

novel. Specifically, the chapter will consider foreignization strategies in Miller’s Ronin,

Anglophone translations of Koike and Kojima’s Kozure Ōkami (Lone Wolf and Cub),

Nakazawa’s Hadoshi no Gen (Barefoot Gen) and in Spiegelman’s Maus, touching upon the

significance of experiences of Anglophone anime for the adoption of manga practices by the

graphic novel in the same period.

strategies employed by Japanese transmedia entertainments projects for children, including

Gandamu Shirīzu (The Gundam Series) and Doragon Bōru (Dragon Ball), relative to the

recent incorporation of the graphic novel into the original English language transmedia project

Avatar: the last Airbender, since 2012.

Characterizing genres of comics requires an accumulation of inclusive descriptions of the

broadest aspects of the experience of producing, distributing and reading. Without such

descriptions, adjudications of similarity and dissimilarity and extrapolations of the effects of

historic influences––adoptions of practices from one genre to another, in the case of manga and

graphic novels––cannot be substantiated or adequately described. Consideration of all of the

following aspects is key: historic contingency (reader and market relationships with culture and

economy); functions (why a comic is made, bought and read); where and when the comic is

made, bought and read; who is making, selling and reading the comic; the sub-genres of the

comic’s story-worlds (expected by readers) and the forms of the comic (from it’s size and

shape to the style of its drawing, colour palette, lettering and language).

According to these aspects, differences in the experiences of manga and graphic novels become

vivid, whilst it also becomes self-evident that the expected contents and stylistic forms of the

two genres always emerge relative to the differences between the situations in which they are

experienced. For example, Japanese manga are not expected to be read by Anglophone readers,

solely on the basis that they utilize the Japanese language. Fluency in Japanese is an historic

contingency of Japanese manga, whereas fluency in English is an historic contingency of the

graphic novel. A great deal depends upon the exigencies of historic contingencies such as this,

of which verbal language is only one among many. Fortunately, this approach to making

distinctions between manga and graphic novels enriches, focuses and intensifies the genres,
rather than overwhelming and dissipating them. In fact, this approach makes characterization

relatively simple.

The contemporary manga tradition of visual narrative publications is a post-war Japanese

cultural phenomenon, with direct derivative traditions in both China/Chinese (manhua),

Korea/Korean (manhwa) and, more recently, English (“’manga’, ’ ‘manhwa,’ and ‘manhua’ are

( … ) different language readings of the same Chinese characters ( … ) [ Brienza 2009, 161).

Fundamentally, it is a popular visual literature of escapism. Anecdotally, manga magazines and

compilations (“tankobon”) function to alleviate the boredom of the daily long commute to and

from work, undertaken by thousands of Japanese employees. True or not, manga provides a

cheap form of fiction, generating demand for new products on a daily and weekly basis. The

Japanese manga industry has established and nurtured a huge domestic (and, more recently,

Anglophone) market for regular, frequent, disposable graphic stories, and the production chains

that support it. This market is supplied by systematized, collaborative transmedia corporations,

explicitly targeting tightly defined demographics and interest groups, whose products are sold

in every possible context, often mutually promoting productions in other media, such as novels,

television animation, animated movies, theatre shows, games, toys and other merchandise.

Japanese manga’s demographics and interest groups now determine the sub-genres of manga

story-worlds. Not only are these audiences/genres distinguished by age and gender, but

increasingly by the interface between these and specific interests. For example, “shojo” manga

(for younger girls) now encompasses sports-focused products, whilst the “shonen ai” sub-genre

(male homosexual romance stories) identifies an audience of adult women. Manga sub-genres

overwhelmingly involve recurring characters and situations. Their specific storylines most

frequently derive from named artist’s studios. Manga appear in weekly magazines quickly

compiled as inexpensive, disposable anthologies of hundreds of pages. Consistent visual

stylistic identities accompany the sub-genres of manga story telling, providing visual logotypes

for specific groups of readers (Schodt 2013).

since the 1980s, maturing rapidly through the more-or-less successful speculative co-option, by

producers, of some of the major existing systems for producing and marketing literary novels

(Baetens and Frey 2015).Fundamentally, the graphic novel is a socially aspirational literature,

seeking status parity between the named graphic author and named literary novelists, movie

“auteurs” and fine artists. The genre both melds the visionary, socially engaged and avant-

garde counter-cultural tradition of Anglophone comix, with which “auteurism” agrees, and

acknowledges the cultural histories and mass audience experiences of popular Anglophone

newsstand comics (Sabin 2001). Although Anglophone in derivation, graphic novels occupy

small niche markets within a range of established language cultures of the literary novel. They

are sold by book retailers to adult readers, most frequently as a type of novel. In this important

sense, the graphic novel can be described as a sub-genre of the literary novel as much as a

genre of (visual) comics. Graphic novels are published and marketed either by publishers (of

comics, bande dessinée or manga), with sales routes to established comics readers, or book

publishers with established literary novel markets, or both. Serialization in comic book form

remains an effective route to funding the publication of a compilation graphic novel (Couch

2010, 2010). It is rare for a graphic novel to seek audiences for related products in other media.

Following the development of market congruences between comics readers and literary novel

readers, the graphic novel is exemplified by a small number of those story-world sub-genres

that characterize this overlap. For example, the appearance of such congruent qualities

constituted the development of a new style of mainstream American comic in the mid 1980s,

whose protagonists, such as Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman, self-consciously adopted existing

and historic literary tropes. There is a focus upon witnessing, self-confession, health and social
issues and commentary, often by graphic novels upon the history of Anglophone comics. 1 This

focus is congruent with the genre’s aspirational character. Literary novels in all but the last of

these sub-genres also continue to engender expectations of contents with high cultural status, as

Mark McGurl (2011) notes. Graphic novels are comparatively costly stand-alone volumes, sold

to adult readers by book retailers. Readers, closely associate the visual, stylistic identity of each

graphic novel, with the visual author of the book, to the point that conflating author biography

and graphic style is not unusual.

These two descriptions, of manga and the graphic novel, appear commonplace, apart from the

fact that they have both been organized entirely according to descriptions of the key aspects

listed above, and it is the relationships between the aspects on this list that we must keep in

mind, when approaching a discussion of the historic influences of manga on the graphic novel.

As normative traditions contributing to the identity of the whole comics strip register, the

genres of manga and the graphic novel are characterized by distinctions between the interaction

of forms and types of use that constitute “comics” itself, such that is possible to claim that, not

only is there “apparent convergence of publication formats: the graphic novel, [Francophone]

album and tankobon,” but that this convergence constitutes a congruous, if continually

developing, group identity amongst other forms of comics (Couch 2010, 204, italics in

original).Christopher Couch suggests that the “fact that extended stories were collected in

book-length format in other national sequential art literatures [sic] made it easy to import and

sell them alongside domestic productions using the American-made rubric graphic novel.”

(2010, 216, italics in original)More than this, however, forms of media interact with situations

and uses in the international history of the comic, resulting in widely different identities, sales

1
For example, Sacco’s Palestine (2001), Bechdel’s Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic (2006),

Streeten’s Billy, You and Me: A Memoir of Grief and Recovery (2011), Una’s Becoming,

Unbecoming (2015) and Burns’ Last Look (2016).

seeking to replicate the contingencies and styles of manga (such as the German-made/sold

volumes titled Euromanga, produced since 1997), translated and Original English Language

(OEL) manga, for example, as Casey Brienza argues: “( … ) while manga was not successful as

a comic [in America] and comics were not usually successful as books, by carefully

constructing the [genre] as something distinct from American comics, manga was able to

become a book ( …)” (2016, 43).

According to this principle, considering the influence of established manga practices upon the

maturing genre of the graphic novel in the last thirty years, it would be an error to overlook the

significance of the Anglophone market for Japanese animation (“anime”), in also characterizing

subsequent Anglophone expectations of manga, in the form of subtitled and dubbed

Anglophone television serials, series and movies imports. Relative to Anglophone experiences

of manga, the historical contingency of the Anglophone experience of Japanese anime follows

two distinct routes. First, television animation for Anglophone child audiences was an early

part of the establishment of a model for transmedia co-production and marketing of Japanese

narrative drawing, for Anglophone children. The work of Osamu Tezuka (1928–1989)

exemplifies this significance. Tezuka, famously excited by the experience of imported post-war

American comics and animation, modeled not only his visual style upon Disney Studio, but

also an entire corporate transmedia practice. By the mid 1960s, Tezuka envisaged and then co-

produced an encompassing children’s entertainments culture, including manga, novels,

animated television programs, movies and merchandise (Ban 2016). Tezuka’s most famous

creation, Tetsuwan Atomu (Mighty Atom) or, in English, Astro Boy (Tezuka 1987-89), first

appeared as a Japanese manga in 1952, as a Japanese television anime and, crucially, on the

American NBC Television network in a dubbed version, in 1963. It became one of the

foundational models for all subsequent transmedia ventures in children’s entertainment (such as

the Dragon Ball animation, manga, games and merchandise franchise (Toriyama 1989,
continuing) and the OEL Avatar: the last Airbender franchises (Yang, DiMartino and

Konietzko, 2012–2017).

Second, animation for Anglophone adult movie audiences only began to appear as a distinct

type of experience, unrelated to anime television programmes, in the late 1980s and 1990s

(with Otomo’s Akira [1988], Oshii’s Ghost in the Shell [1995] and Miyazaki’s Princess

Mononoke [1997], for example), despite the existence of a wealth of successful Japanese movie

releases of television and manga-related animations for adults appearing decades earlier. The

Anglophone adult movie experience of dubbed and subtitled Japanese animations provides an

historical contingency for the adoption of manga practices by producers and readers of the

Anglophone graphic novel.

These distinct routes in the formation of the historical contingency of the Anglophone

experience of Japanese anime are reflected in Laurence Venuti’s detailed theory of the

processes of the transculturation of texts (Venuti 1995). Although developed to explain

affective approaches to translating languages, Venuti’s theory constitutes a description of the

ways in which readers come to orient their reading by producing new identities for texts. The

first of these explanations of processes of transculturation, termed “domestication,” describes a

process of ensuring the conformity of the properties of a product to the expectations and habits

of use of a target culture. The second explanation, termed “foreignization,” strategically

establishes dissonances between the properties of a product and the expectations and habits of

use of a target culture, such that “foreignization overtly stresses the products exoticness by

retaining cultural differences requiring knowledge from the reader.” (Rampant 2010, 221).

The process of the transformation of Japanese transmedia products to Anglophone markets,

pioneered by Tezuka, is broadly a process of domestication. Astro Boy significantly altered

Tetsuwan Atomu according to the perceived expectations of audiences for NBC Television
children’s programmes in 1963, for example (Schodt 2013, 3).On the other hand, the

presentation of dubbed or subtitled Japanese animated movies to Anglophone adult audiences

has been a process of foreignization, utilising fragmentary knowledge of the source culture on

the part of viewers to inculcate interesting and exciting concepts of the exotic (that is, foreign),

including ideas of the domestic high status of the experience of “foreignness” itself. These two

characteristics of Anglophone experiences of Japanese media cultures appeared as

contingencies upon a similarly bifurcated, though not monolithic, production of comics series

and then graphic novels adopting manga practices, as well as Japanese manga in types of

English translation.

Consider Frank Miller’s Anglophone comic book series Ronin (1983–1984). The series, niche

marketed (that is, sold in comic book shops), was compiled as a single volume in 1987. Further

delux single volume editions were released in 2008 (Absolute Ronin) and 2014 (Ronin Delux),

by which time the product had followed the emerged path of the comics serial to graphic novel,

from comic book shop to book shop and from comics readers to adult literature readers. This

transition was aided in part by the success of Miller’s Dark Knight Returns (1986) in

establishing the beginnings of a canon of graphic novels in the public imagination and the

visibility of the movie franchises of his comics serials to graphic novels Sin City (1991-2000)

and 300 (1998), which appeared on general release within the mainstream systems of adult

movie distribution for Anglophone productions, rated PG18 and PG15 in the UK.

The plot of Ronin is a fantasy adventure in which a masterless swordsman (“ronin”) and a

demon are transported from 11th century Japan to the New York City of a near future, post

1984, undertaking a supernatural struggle for a new technology. It’s significance lies in the

ways in which it historically mediated and transformed both the Anglophone comic book

fantasy adventure sub-genre and the comics register through foreignization of aspects of its

story-world and of its visual style. First, Ronin exemplifies a direct foreignization of Japanese
history and culture in its story-world. In the plot, a range of ideas and images of 11th century

Japan are literally imported to near contemporary New York, in the form of the ronin, demon

and a supernatural sword, catalysing for Anglophone readers a train of less definable but easily

enumerated cultural concepts more vaguely identified as part of a foreign national culture,

some of which Miller has discussed himself (Kraft and Salicup 1983).

Key to the character of this importation is the foreignization of the historic Japanese elements.

Miller’s treatment in the plot, of the ronin, demon and magic sword, demarcates them

according to a self-fulfilling concept of Japanese history as incomprehensibly fantastic, and

literally exotic (foreign-derived), in the sense of being unavailable to the governing rationales

of contemporary American comics readers. The interest and excitement of Ronin, for Miller

and for his readers, exactly derived from the incompatibility of these two environments (a

fantasy of old Japan and near-contemporary New York). As Venuti proposes, this is the self-

conscious cause and aim of foreignization.

Second, Ronin explicitly visualized this foreignization of a historic Japan in New York through

the foreignization of the visual stylistic practices of the Japanese manga genre and sub-genres,

which were, in 1985, almost entirely unavailable and unknown to its Anglophone readers. The

foreignization of ideas of historic Japan in the plot of Ronin is paralleled and amplified by the

foreignization of visual manga practices in Miller’s visual style. In the case of the visual style

of Ronin, the interest and excitement of this foreignization derives from the perceived

differences between the idea of a generalized Anglophone comic book style and Miller’s

adoption of visual manga practices that both were comprehensively expounded, stylistically

coherent and unfamiliar to his readers.

Miller has been explicit about his attempts to adopt, in Ronin, the visual stylistic manga

practice of Kazuo and Goseki’s Kozure Ōkami (Lone Wolf and Cub), a manga magazine series
begun in 1970 and finally comprising 28 tankobon of up to 300 pages each, six live action

films, four theatre plays and a television series in Japanese. A largely incomplete Kozure

Ōkami was only translated into English as Lone Wolf and Cub between 1987 and 1991, with a

complete English translation released as a series of 28 graphic novels between 2000 and 2002.

For Japanese manga readers, Kozure Ōkami can be described as truly normative, on the basis of

the longevity of the project, the high number of its Japanese sales, the immediate use of its

story-world and visual style as the hub of a large transmedia entertainment project in Japan and

the accumulating practice of adopting it’s themes and practices as points of reference in

Japanese cultural history.

However, in terms of the series’ impact upon Anglophone readers, its English translation and

Anglophone publishing history is revealing. The translations published between 1987 and

1991, when the publisher First Comics ceased trading, post-dated the release of Ronin as a

comics series and commenced in the year that Ronin was published as a single volume. Rather

than following the form of the Japanese tankobon, First Comic’s Lone Wolf and Cub editions

conformed to the size, shape and Anglophone orientation of American serial comic books,

albeit with a high number of pages––up to 128 in each edition. As with the Ronin series, they

were sold in comic book shops. It is significant that Miller drew the cover images for the

beginning editions of this translation because, for Anglophone readers, an experience of Lone

Wolf and Cub explicitly followed an experience of Ronin.

Hence, Miller’s technique of foreignization introduced the more extreme foreignization of Lone

Wolf and Cub. Although the possibility of an experience of Lone Wolf and Cub was introduced

to readers by Ronin, the limited degree to which ideas of Japan, presented in this way, were

exciting to Anglophone readers was revealed in the revision of the Japanese tankobon form of

Kozure Ōkami in order to conform to Anglophone domestic practices of production and

reading, in Lone Wolf and Cub. Both publisher and reader expectations of an experience of
comics were contingent upon entrenched domestic practices that were unable to accommodate

an experience of manga as manga, even with English words. It was not until 2000 that Dark

Horse marked the change in these domestic practices by the viability of publishing an English

translation, as Lone Wolf and Cub, in the form of Anglophone graphic novels: 28 trade

paperbacks of up to 300 pages each, sold in book shops.

Hence, the chronology of the various forms of releases of Ronin and English translations of

Kozure Ōkami exemplifies the historic contingencies of the Anglophone market, as it changed

to accommodate the graphic novel, relative to manga. In 1983–1984, Ronin appeared in serial

form, sold in comic book shops. In 1987, Ronin appeared as a compiled edition, sold in comic

book shops. Also in 1987, Lone Wolf and Cub appeared incomplete, in redacted serial form,

sold in comic book shops. In 2000, Lone Wolf and Cub appeared as a tankobon-shaped series,

sold in comic book shops and book shops. Finally, in 2008 and 2014, Ronin deluxe single

editions appeared, sold in comic book shops and book shops.

In the period covered by this sequence of events, one of the major changes in the historic

contingencies of both Anglophone manga and the emerging genre of the graphic novel was the

wildly successful initiative to sell translated Japanese manga in Anglophone book shops, rather

than in comic book shops or by comics-specific distribution routes, undertaken by a small

number of American publishers in the early 1990s (Brienza 2009). These initiatives involved

self-conscious strategic foreignization of translated manga. As well as distributing in

bookshops and maintaining Japanese page orientation, American publisher Tokyopop (a

pioneer in the marketing of manga translated into English) included a paper band around each

book, which is both a feature of Japanese manga compilations and a Japanese cultural reference

to the “obi” or waist sash of traditional Japanese dress. These were material and referential

similarities to Japanese manga, promoted by the publisher as known to those (putative “elite”)
readers with special knowledge, but generally announced as part of a marketing strategy, as

“100% Authentic” Japanese (Brienza 2009, 54).

Hence, strategic foreignization affected changes in the total domestic identity: new domestic

habits, conventions and forms paralleled and superceded older habits, conventions and forms.

In this sense, as Brienza notes: “One can be simultaneously domesticating the object, oneself

and the nation of origin” (2009, 36).Such developments in the marketing of manga translations

established new Anglophone reading practices, adopted by specific groups of people: the

“bishonen” manga sub-genre (stories of beautiful young men) and “sentai” sub-genre (stories of

fighting gangs), for example, have undergone thorough Anglophone foreignization in the sense

that Anglophone readers now both comprehend the paratextual distinctions as habits of

Japanese manga readers, whilst in no way conforming to them in their own reading habits. The

history of Anglophone manga, in effect, shows that domestication can, in fact, be achieved by

successful foreignization, so that the “the sum total of those social positions and functions

which reside exclusively within the transnational cultural field” can be termed domestication,

according to Brienza (2009, 37).

Recalling Venuti’s description of the effects of foreignization, Ronin announced Miller as an

auteur (in so much as he was the motivating force behind the comic and its visionary

producer), an avant-garde practitioner (creating new experiences of reading) and a possessor of

special knowledge, the significance of which he appeared to be on the verge of revealing to an

aspiring audience. In this sense, Miller produced an idea of Japanese history (the ronin’s time

and place) and contemporary Japanese culture (in the form of manga practices in the visual

style of Ronin itself) that gained its status from Miller’s projection of its rare, rich and

essentially arcane nature. Hence, Ronin also foreignized an experience of Japanese culture by

establishing an idea of Miller as an artist capable of conjuring foreign experiences, in this case
experiences of manga, for a comic book readership with established expectations derived from

their experiences of his mainstream comics.

To some extent, a comparison of the Anglophone translations of another Japanese manga and

transmedia franchise, Nakazawa’s Hadashi no Gen (translated variously as Gen of Hiroshima

and Barefoot Gen) and Spiegelman’s American serial and compilation publication Maus serves

to reiterate discussion of the historic adoption of manga practices to the emerging genre of the

graphic novel, as a strategic use of foreignization (Nakazawa 1973, Spiegelman 1991).

Between 1973 and 1986, Hadoshi no Gen was the focus of a major Japanese transmedia

project. Initially a semi-autobiographic manga series recounting Nakazawa’s childhood

experiences of the atomic bombing of the Japanese city of Hiroshima by the United States in

1945, Hadoshi no Gen became 10 tankobon volumes, six novels (released between 1982 and

2008), a live action television series (2007), three live actions movies (1976–1980) and two

anime movies (1983 and 1984). Arguably the first manga translated into English (in 1976 as

Gen of Hiroshima, in an incomplete edition for sale in comic book shops), Barefoot Gen has

undergone two subsequent translations, in 1988 (for sale in both comic book shops and book

shops) and between 2004–2010 (Chute 2016)..

Following a broadly similar historic Anglophone timeline, the serial Maus had the benefit of

appearing in editions of Raw, an Anglophone magazine project commencing in 1980, edited by

Spiegelman and Françoise Mouly, which pioneered the distribution of comics to book stores.

The first six serial parts of Maus were compiled as a single edition in 1986. The last five serial

parts were compiled as a single edition in 1991, all of these parts having previously appeared in

Raw. A complete edition compiling all of these parts was published in 1996. For the situating

of Maus, in a marketplace, and the establishing of the Anglophone idea of the graphic novel,

the significance of Raw’s presentation, if not as a series of novels (it was undoubtedly a
magazine) then in the form of trade paperbacks for the readers of novels, cannot be

underestimated.

Both Barefoot Gen and Maus utilized foreignization strategies in order to create and entrench

new reading practices for comics. The overwhelming historic struggles, catastrophies, violence

and extreme ethical dilemmas that constitute their story-worlds, and their crucial meta-narrative

aspects of witnessing and self-witnessing, bear strong similarities, giving them the gravity of

touchstones for documentary and confessional reporting and story-telling in any register. But

this similarity––of showing stories of historic catastrophe and profound human dilemma––did

not transcend the habitual experiences of Anglophone readers in the mid-1980s, even as these

books transformed them. Both of these canonical Anglophone works (one a translated manga,

one an emerging graphic novel), instrumentally foreignised both Nakazawa’s personal account

and Spigelman’s Polish father’s account of incommensurably terrible events in the history of

the Second World War. The role of Raw magazine supports this, in the foriegnization of

contents derived from comics artists widely unknown to Anglophone readers at the time,

including artists in the traditions of comix, manga and bande dessinée, and the presentation of

visual styles and story-worlds also widely unknown and, in many cases, transformative to read,

due to their profound unfamiliarity.2 This is not to say that the effects of foreignization at the

level of historic contingency are monolithic. Neither are the strategies for foriegnization as a

marketplace affect monolithic. There is a great deal of difference between the commoditization

of a vision of 11th century Japan in an Anglophone comics series (in Ronin) in order to create

excitement by creating a new genre, for example, and the marketing of a visual account of the

events of Hiroshma or the Holocaust by changing the historic contingencies by which these

stories could be experienced and understood. In terms of the adoption of manga practices by

artists creating the genre of the graphic novel, however, Barefoot Gen and Maus followed

2
For example, including Yoshiharu Tsuge, Carlos Sampayo, Jacques Loustal and Chéri Samba.
parallel trajectories in transforming the ways in which Anglophone comics could be read––with

the same attention and in the same ways as literary novels, as adult works of art by identifiable

authors, accessed in book shops, by instumentalising these distinct properties through

foreignization.

The parallel between Miller’s foreignization of Japanese culture in Ronin, the release of

foreignised Anglophone translations of Kozure Ōkami and the foriegnization of Anglophone

anime movie releases such as Akira is also historically striking. In terms of the historic

emergence of the genre of the graphic novel, the aspirational aspect of reader experiences and

expectations of auteurism has a similar facet in the experience of the foreignizations presented

by Akira, Ronin and Lone Wolf and Cub. In the case of movies such as Akira, the historic

contingencies of Anglophone arthouse cinema in the 1980s realised the niche market and

precarious but high social status of the experience of these products (Wilinsky 2001) In the

case of Ronin and finally Lone Wolf and Cub, the historic contingencies of marketing long form

comics in English via the established routes of literary novels realised not only a similar niche

market and social status, but also contributed to the creation of the identity of the genre of the

graphic novel itself.

But the very precariousness of the historic contingencies that now identify a changing manga

genre (in many languages) and an established genre of the graphic novel, recalls the second of

Venuti’s functions of transculturation to a discussion of the adoption of manga practices by the

graphic novel, if only by contrast: domestication. Graphic novelists have presented their

adoption of manga practices through strategic foreignization, as a means of claiming the status,

reading practices and historic contingencies of the literary novel for the genre. But most manga

have found other routes to Anglophone markets, even to the point of now encompassing the

established idea of the genre of the graphic novel and including graphic novels in a wide range

of related media products. The status of these can hardly be described as precarious. I am
thinking in particular of those manga, largely beginning for child readerships, which remain

embedded in transmedia projects that engage with audiences outside Japan through strategic

domestication to non-Japanese markets.

Recall Venuti’s definition of domestication as the process of ensuring the conformity of the

properties of a product to the expectations and habits of use of a target culture. This self-

conscious conformity was antithetical to the functional foreignization of Ronin, and the

Anglophone translations of Lone Wolf and Cub, Barefoot Gen and, I argue, Maus. These

examples locate foreignization as a key historic aspect of the adoption of manga practices by

the graphic novel and of the development of the genre of the graphic novel itself. The influence

of manga on the graphic novel, in this sense, was subsumed by the imperative to locate long

form comics in the literary novel’s marketplace, culture and reading milieu, including an

aspiration to the high cultural status of the literary novel. The example of Anglophone arthouse

presentations of Anglophone Japanese anime movies in the same period seems to support this

description, in the sense that, whilst not aspiring to the status of the novel, the genre of the

arthouse movie sought (and still seeks) to establish the high cultural status of the experiences it

provides through strategic foriegnization.

Following this characterization, domestication conversely offered another route to the

development of new audiences for Japanese manga and associated products as part of

established transmedia commercial projects. This route has proved so successful that, after 30

plus years, the graphic novel has become a plausible part of the array of products offered by

Japanese and, more recently, international and Anglophone entertainments companies.

For example, the early initiative represented by the appearance of Astro Boy on NBC

Television sought to domesticate Tetsuwan Atomu in every possible way. This was achieved

according to the detailed templates by which creative directors at the company decided to
proceed with the development any new domestically produced children’s program, according to

their knowledge of the domestic market. In effect, when it aired on NBC, Astro Boy was

indistinguishable from a domestic product. The history of Tetsuwan Atomu as a manga, and its

transmedia manifestations, was entirely incidental, as well as entirely unknown to Astro Boy’s

Anglophone viewers.

A number of more recent manga products exemplify this approach and it is worth briefly

enumerating the ways in which they have begun to constitute a distinct route for the adoption of

manga practices by the graphic novel or, in fact, the subsuming of the graphic novel in these

practices. Gandamu Shirīzu (The Gundam Series) is a science-fiction epic set on other worlds,

in the “mecha” sub-genre of Japanese manga, featuring giant robotic armour. It is a continuing

Japanese transmedia project begun in 1979, encompassing manga, anime movies, anime

television programs, “original video animation” (OVA) for viewing on domestic devices, toys,

games and merchandise. Key to the Angophone domestication of Gundam, and other similar

franchises (such as Dragon Ball) are their adoption, cooption and subsequent manipulation of

the domestic leisure habits of Anglophone children (Masatsugu 2004). That Gundam is for

children is important in terms of its domestication strategy, because children do not, according

the most general Anglophone acculturation, take an interest in the social status of the adult

literary novel (Knowles and Malmkjaer1995). This is evidenced by the bifurcation and

disambiguation of Anglophone markets for literature. Children’s Literature, Young Adult

Literature and so on are markets quite distinct from Adult Literature. The relationship between

a range of entertainments products, including toys, is also more explicit in children’s markets:

the relationship of adults to toy consumption is complex and dependent, whereas for children it

is culturally central.

That said, according to the description of the genre of the graphic novel that I have outlined

above, translated Japanese manga appearing as part of The Gundam Series are not graphic
novels, regardless of the fact that some of them are long, single editions, precisely because they

are for children. These translated and, more recently, OEL manga belong to the history of the

adoption of manga practices by Anglophone serial comics, of which the earliest examples

include Warren and Smith’s 1988 The Dirty Pair, an OEL manga series melding science fiction

and detective stores, derived from characters first appearing in a series of Japanese novels by

Haruka Takachiho, from 1980. Warren and Smith’s comics series entirely domesticated these

characters according to the expectations of Anglophone comics readers of the time.

However, the commercial success of projects such as Gundam and Dragon Ball has led to a

curious inversion in the historic contingencies of the graphic novel genre, whereby, by 2012, it

was viable for DiMartino and Konietzko, creators of the OEL anime, manga and live action

movie franchise Avatar: the last Airbender, to license the franchise’s story-world to the

producers of three long-form comics or graphic novels aimed at Anglophone adult readers to be

sold in book shops.3 This phenomenon points to the increasingly high degree of definition of

the graphic novel genre, in the sense that transmedia projects such as Avatar display little

interest in fundamentally unstable markets. Their central strategy, even with an OEL project, is

the domestication of forms for which perception of a foreign identity is antithetical to sales.

Since 2012, it appears that the graphic novel is now one of those forms.

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3
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