Nabi

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Nabi is fundamentally flawed, narratively warped, and deeply seated within its false notion of nonlinearity. It is structurally incompetent, and regardless of whether or not one can follow the storytelling with hyper-focused attention, warranting that level of investment without the corresponding satisfaction is unfair to the reader. Admittedly, it is in part the fault of translation quality and the team's inability to use autocorrect, but beyond that, writer/artist Yeon-Ju Kim does not have the tenets of her story outlined with clarity. Throughout the greater part of the mid-section, it's borderline impossible to follow the interactions on a contextual level, rather all the unmemorable dialogue is ... akin to word padding. There's indeed a great deal of text, although, in terms of legitimate thematic value, not everything said deserves a spotlight. In hindsight, there are instances of contemplative thought that are rephrased and rehashed more than necessary, or perhaps it's needed because the reader is rarely sure how the current conflict plays a role in the transpiring events.

The series suffers from its large cast, and a combination of same face syndrome and designs choosing bizarre visual representations of shock or intimate conversation. Often, characters will be drawn with different hair colors, closely resembling another member of the cast who also happens to have similar facial features. This issue branches into many areas of storytelling setbacks, and it's apparent that Kim does not fully utilize the strengths of the medium. There are various instances where indicators of some sort would only serve to benefit the effectiveness of the many moving parts of her narrative, and she loses the reader quickly during the countless monologues that segue into flashbacks. The exposition is simply not framed well enough within the bounds of flowery language alongside a slightly unclear timeline. At certain points, a character will be referred to by their former name or a new translation of the original one, and while the scans are a matter of circumstance, denoting a visual shift is not. Refusing to use a narrator or construct a streamlined focus does not create a more compelling experience and on the contrary, it should disguise character intent, not our ability to distinguish them.

The manhwa's merits are frankly few and far between, especially scaled against the self-created clutter. However, beneath the facade of complication, the premise is relatively simple once one has caught on to the similarities across character arcs. Their respective growth treads the same pace as Nabi's political power struggle, another case of something not particularly layered being depicted with unnecessary uncertainty. Kim's grasp on the personalities of the protagonists and multiple deuteragonists is strong, remaining consistent in personal development as well as in plot roles. The story's shoujo-esque style is its primary appeal, maintaining the standard for emotional prose throughout. Internal monologues are purely poetic, and while I didn't find them all to have a convincing purpose, the painterly imagery accompanying these pieces is noteworthy. The art has fantastic spreads in the latter volumes and consistently impressive establishing shots at the cost of severely lacking paneling during action sequences. For fans of the demographic, there's minimal enjoyment unless one is solely interested in the medium itself. A rarely cohesive yet lyrical tale of grief, strife, and revenge.