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Like standing next to a hot oven after coming in from a cold, damp day, SoreMachi: And Yet The Town Moves is soothing wonder. It's a timeless must-read manga that deserves far better than it has gotten in the west.

While many slice of life manga fixate themselves on the daily routine of ordinary people, SoreMachi concerns itself with the extraordinary—and maintains an obsession not just with relationships, but with the invisible glue that binds together the balance of human interaction.

SoreMachi features an ensemble cast, that gradually unfurls itself as the chapters go by. Friends, townsfolk, teachers—not to mention a dash of the supernatural—fill the world, ... beautifully realized by the talented Masakazu Ishiguro ("Heavenly Delusion"). At the center of its ambitious cast is the lovable Hotori Arashiyama, who is clutzy and airheaded—but never stupid—and movingly ambitious. Impressively, both in design and personality, every character is amazingly distinct. Ishiguro draws round faces with big expressions, bigger mouths and even bigger hearts. Love triangles form, friendships falter, and the town changes at the whim of its residents.

Seeping through the lines of the comic cell borders is an occasional air of mystery and unknown. One chapter involves a ray-gun from an alien civilization; another tackles the the misadventures of a character's pursuit of a mystery sweet left behind by a time traveler from the future. Ishiguro portrays these themes with a dreamlike quality that challenges the reality and canon of the world he creates. It's left ambiguous whether such events really occurred, and the lines between truth and fiction within its word are frequently left blurry. Perhaps it's all just in Hotori's head? Or perhaps that's what *they* want you to think...

Time is both the least and most important element of SoreMachi. While there is a canonical timeline of events, the manga is presented achronologically. Chapters flow continuously into the next at times, while others cut back and forth across the story. In one chapter, Hotori has a haircut go wrong, leading to her cutting her hair short; a moment whose butterfly effect ripples through the space-time (by which, I mean, paper) of the rest of the manga. The progression in SoreMachi, then, doesn't necessarily materialize within the characters so much as it does in the understanding the reader has *of* the characters and the relations between them. Is Hotori a better person at the end of everything? Sure. Does Kon open up as the manga progresses? Absolutely. But the true genius here is the way in which it compels the reader to understand and appreciate different people, their perspectives, what makes them tick, their mannerisms and worldviews. In a polarizing age where hate dominates so much of human discourse, this resonated with me in a profound way.

This ties into Ishiguro's remarks in the afterword of the first volume. In it, he talks about how through his work he aimed to write a "textbook on communication," with the manga is largely based on his own experiences moving to a new part of Tokyo. After just ten chapters, SoreMachi earns the right to call itself a textbook, but perhaps more fascinatingly stays consistently relevant a hundred chapters later—which is over ten years in publishing time. Being released over the epoch (2005-2016) of society's digital upheaval, I found myself in awe at how I never felt it dated like so many of its contemporaries. I feel like this is a work you could read at any age and get something different out of it. In this regard, it's less of a textbook and more of a bible.

SoreMachi ends just as thoughtfully as it begins. It leaves you little empty. It makes you smile a little. It makes you cry a little. It's not overly conclusive, necessarily dramatic, or overwhelmingly loud even. But it's there, and those last few pages will live with me for a long time.

In summary: Rarely a page was turned without me having to correct the smile that had formed between each of my ears to ward off strange looks from others in public. In a way, I think that element of wariness about people judging me for a smile sort of represents this manga perfectly; it's confusing underappreciation in the west could be attributed to poor luck with licensors, but ultimately I think it's case of people rolling their eyes.

Whether just a hundred or a billion people have read SoreMachi, though, doesn't ultimately matter; the manga is brilliant all the same. It's a cult classic, just without the cult. Even so, the town moves—and I hope the passage of time treats these words as kindly as it has to Ishiguro's quiet masterpiece. Maid-o.

Spoilers for the final episode.

Despite all the other reviews mentioning it, I really feel as though this needs to be emphasized further as I'm still not sure if it's been gotten across quite well enough: no words can quite capture how fascinatingly awful the final episode of this show is. It's truly something to behold. The things other people have said are absolutely right; it lacks taste, it's not funny, it goes against character development -- that's all true. But there's certainly been other shows that have those unfortunate distinctions. What makes this final episode live in my head rent-free is just the plain dissonance ... between it and literally every proceeding episode. It's like they pulled in the director of "School Days" for the finale and juiced him up on crack cocaine for shits and giggles.

The first season was a pleasant romp (with an amazing OP) and a surprisingly unique and sweet portrayal of college romance. The second season picked up pretty much right from there and resolved the main relationship in the first six episodes. The back six (including The Episode That Shall Not Be Named) are primarily centered on Kanade and her personal feelings and development, taking a bit more of a serious tone. While I didn't quite enjoy the focus on her, it's still balanced out neatly enough by side couple shenanigans and the main character, Yukimura, and his role tutoring a disobedient student. The messages and morals remain solid throughout with some fairly nice (if standard) commentary to boot.

But then there's the ending. I know it's not really a review if I'm just explaining the plot -- but frankly, the final episode is so utterly gob-smackingly interesting to dissect in how terrible it is, please excuse me while I summarize events to provide some context before I attempt to do so.

So, through the back half of the season, Kanade hooks up with this guy. He's portrayed extremely reasonably. Seems like a nice bloke. Kanade isn't so sure of herself, though, lacking self confidence due to events in her past (that are kinda silly, but whatever). As a result, she self-reinforces a complex around her being "not normal". In addition to that, she's started to grow affection for Yukimura through him helping her throughout the show. All this builds in her mind and leads us into just before the final episode, where her love interest formally asks her out -- to which she turns him down. If you've watched nearly any romance anime, this is fairly standard stuff. The science-y spin this show usually masks its' plot and subplots with is toned down for a more serious approach while this is happening, which I thought was a bit of a shame -- but going into the last episode of what has been an overall sweet show with some nice commentary (not to mention said science elements) I can't say I was dissatisfied.

Immediately at the start of the final episode, the first of many death knells are sounded with a large on-screen content warning: "The following program may contain violence and depictions of sexual assault or rape and may not be suitable for all audiences. Viewer discretion is advised."

Now, Crunchyroll's been doing these lately for more risque shows and to be honest, while it raised a few red flags, I didn't think much of it. Big mistake. The warning should have read "not suitable for any audience," because what follows is twenty three minutes of complete garbage. Out of nowhere Kanade's love interest goes full psycho, ELECTROCUTING her and drags her limp body away to a remote location. We then get five minutes of him and a group of nefarious people sexually assaulting and electrocuting her while bound and semi-unconscious, to which she ultimately effectively submits to due to her aforementioned inferiority complex which she panickdely brings up on repeat. It's bizarre, out of left field and extremely discomforting to watch. This is only reinforced by how there was no way to tell whatsoever that her love interest would be a twist villain -- and not only a twist villain, but the leader of a gang raping ring (??????)

What a stupid setup for the final episode. At best, it's clumsy and irresponsible. But oh well, at the very least the resolution will ultimately tie everything together and realign the show's moral compass, right? Just as Kanade is about to submit to the gang's assault, Yukimura bursts in like some kind of superhero. What? Did the writers just forget the incredibly shockingly serious scene they just set up? What follows an honestly dark and strenuously comforting scene is some of the worst timed """comic relief""" you'll ever watch. Our main character proceeds to outline exactly how he was able to find where they had taken Kanade through a systematic scientific analysis of potential locations. He then pulls out a fucking projector and a PowerPoint presentation to the member of the gang and a partially exposed Kanade outlining exactly why Kanade is 🌷 fine just the way she is 🌷. This presentation goes on for ten minutes -- nearly half of the episodes run time -- all the while the gang, who were about to rape her, watch in silence. It's not funny, it's not sweet, it's just disturbing. I have no qualms with a show presenting graphic depictions of rape where it's appropriate to do so and is grounded in good moral value. But its' use here as a means to an end is frankly wrong and abhorrent. The remainder of the episode that follows this is a contrived ending in which our main character ultimately 😎 defeats the baddies 😎 by threatening them with chemicals (???) and ultimately getting them arrested. Of course, the real purpose of this absurd series of events? To get Kanade to reconcile her feelings for our main character and setup a harem. Naturally.

I watched this show several months ago when it was coming out and the final episode has been living rent free in my mind ever since then. It's rare that a single episode can so dramatically change my feelings towards a series. But this one is such an abrupt and irresponsible tonal shift it turns a nice, fluffy show into something downright unsalvageable. If you have to watch this show, watch the first season and first six episodes of season 2 and skip the rest.

Utterly fantastic. Twelve episodes of some of the most clever, funny and heartwarming slice of life television you'll ever watch. This show stirs themes and lets them simmer and simmer and won't let up until you're smiling in satisfaction. Each skit takes on a theme head-first—from lighthearted explorations of Vending Machine culture in Japan, to the daily struggles of adolescence, to the bigger, more solemn and ponderous questions about relationships and life itself. It's big, bold and funny but also just the right amount of quiet when it needs to be. It introduces a cast of characters I can only describe as unforgettable - both ... visually, and in their mannerisms; how they walk, talk and suffer through the everyday is captivating, pleasant and moving at times.

Shinbou Akiyuki's unique style combine with Studio SHAFT on their A-Game to make stunning, detailed scenes with lovely character animation that sells the weight of every moment with that certain, difficult-to-describe level of quality that just hits the sweet spot. While Mr. Akiyuki has previously used his directorial style to sell the mystery and drama of Bakemonegatari—and would further it with titles such as Puella Magi Madoka Magica—it's used here in a subversive, brilliant way to give a timeless edge to the presentation. This may have aired over ten years ago now, but everything here is still just as relevant as it ever has been.

All that—and yet nobody's seemed to have watched it?! It's sitting at a meager 20,000 "completed" ratings on this site. I think it's a rare case of something just sort of not making it across the border well. Even the reviews of the U.S. Blu-Ray release on Amazon are entirely populated by Japanese importers looking to pick up a cheaper copy than the domestic release. It's one of those works that does require having seen a few works from the genre before to really gel with—but for so few to have seen a production with the highs this has leaves me at something of a loss. As the show explores itself in episode 10—maybe "SoreMachi" will escape it's niche eventually, even if it does require 500-odd years and a time machine.

The word "underrated" gets thrown around a lot to a point where it's almost lost all meaning. This show finds meaning in that word.
Watch it.

Sing a Bit of Harmony's concept seems pretty run of the mill - AI gone rogue is hardly new and has been done a million times. That, combined with the expectations of a heavy fistful of typical anime tropes meant I didn't really expect much going into this - it's an original film from J.C. Staff (a fairly alright studio) and a director I haven't really heard of before.

After watching it, though, I'm really, really glad I saw it. This is one of the most delightful films I've seen in a long time and I had a big ass smile on my face watching this ... in the theater. It's funny, crazy but ultimately grounded in what it's trying to do. It takes the usual boring beats of the rogue AI story thread you've heard before and puts a fresh, heartwarming spin on them. Don't get me wrong, it's still extremely anime - if you can't tolerate corny moments you're probably not gonna love this one. In particular, the final third of the film maybe falls just a tad too much into the usual trappings of this story thread.

Personally, I didn't really care, though. The film had me under its spell after five minutes and the charm offensive doesn't let up until the credits roll. A huge part of that is the music - the songs are all lovely and a treat for the ears that fit the film perfectly. I'd be remiss without mentioning that J.C. Staff really give this their all - both in the excellent character design work and fluid animation (particularly impressive during scenes in which characters rotate). It brings the work to life and the result is, once again, delightful. Speaking of the characters, they're all just so like-able. Satomi and Shion, our two main leads, just have outstanding chemistry between them, backed by a great supporting cast. The film also does a pretty nice job at its romance, which is quite sweet, even if it does get a little heavy handed at times. The jokes are all really quite good, too - there's a mix of a bit of slapstick with some really quite funny timing and lines that made me and the audience in the cinema laugh out loud, which I really wasn't expecting.

I watched this in cinema, but hopefully Funimation will put this on their service to stream soon, it's just such a fun watch and I'd like to have the opportunity of watching it in English, as I only saw it subtitled and the dub I hear is extremely solid and they also re-recorded the music in English, which is really interesting.

Sing a Bit of Harmony gets my recommendation, though, it's just such a likable, fun watch that I think has sadly slipped through the cracks as a quiet January release. Not every film has to rise to have the same dramatic or romantic emotional weight as something like Your Name to be fantastic to watch. This is a film that won't work for everyone, but it really did for me.

Much like the snowfall that permeates the town, in their 2006 adaptation of Kanon, Kyoto Animation managed to masterfully blanket an otherwise ordinary story with a thick coat of atmosphere, successfully elevating its predictable plot and the shortcomings of the 2001 series into an engrossing drama. It's not as sad and won't leave you with the same lasting impression as Key's later story, Clannad, but what you get here is a story with a lot of heart, simple yet likable characters set in a serene snow-swept city that will hook you into clicking the next episode button.

Story (6) - Both predictable and bizarre at the ... same time. The central plot point of the main character, Yuichi, having no recollection of his past gives the show an almost unsettling vibe and keeps you watching. Just be aware that "Anime logic" is in full force on this one; if you're not able to accept "magic" as a suitable explanation for some plot points, you'll be annoyed. I felt like a few arcs also tried to do a few too many things at once and ended up being more confusing than interesting.

Art (9) - Like most Key works, expect big eyes. Kyoto takes full advantage of the style to make characters expressive and fluid. Their focus on bringing the world to life is awesome.

Sound (9) - Memorable and potent tracks that lend exceptional weight to the show and its atmosphere when needed. Kanon is nothing without it's score. Still listening to them. Both the OP and ED are excellent, dramatic, catchy and impossible to skip.

Character (7) - Characters are all lovable and brilliantly designed. I particularly like the bright red uniforms contrasting with the whites and grey colors that dominate the cityscape. As mentioned, some arcs try too much and your moe-milage will always vary from character-to-character.

Enjoyment (8) - This is a show that will stick with you for awhile after the final episode. Not every moment lands - and I couldn't describe the plot for some character arcs precisely if I tried - but it all comes together into something very memorable and excellent thanks to Kyoto's direction.

Read volumes 1-11. Review is spoiler-free.

The Haruhi Suzumiya light novel series can be summed up by one word: compelling.

First, what it isn't. Haruhi isn't packed with explosive action - but it does have it.
Haruhi isn't focused on asking the reader to solve impossible mysteries - or a confusing narrative - but it does have those.
Haruhi isn't a science fiction epic - but it can be when it wants to.
Haruhi isn't focused on just time travel - or galactic battles between aliens - or intense fights between powerful opponents. But it has all of those.
If you somehow haven't watched the anime, glanced at the manga, heard ... about the various spinoffs - let alone read these novels, then you might be confused about the point I am trying to make. You may, in fact, think that this is a clusterf*ck of stupid themes and tropes - and by all accounts, it should be. Any lesser work would crack under the weight of its own ideas and become yet another boring, aloof arthouse flick. Haruhi, however, is not a lesser work. Nagaru Tanigawa's fantastic writing and Noizo Ito's iconic illustrations come together in an unbelievable, brilliant way that left me with a profound impression. Readers at the time thought so too - and if anything, it's worth watching the anime or reading the novels just to experience something considered such an important slice of Japanese pop culture's history that continues to influence works today, both in written and television media.

On to the novels themselves, though: Like most people, I saw the anime show first, so the first few novels will probably feel quite familiar - albeit a bit less scrambled than the broadcast order of the show. It was no less compelling, though, and I was delighted by being able to see new scenes not shown in Kyoani's adaptation. Seeing The Disappearance of Haruhi Suzumiya film adaptation for the first time is one thing, but reading the source material was equally impressive and one of the highlights of the novels. One of the notable things about the anime is that there aren't particularly any villains in the story so to speak; Haruhi's greatest demon to conquer may just be Haruhi herself. However, in later novels new foil characters are introduced who play an important role. I was skeptical at their inclusion at first, but these characters are fleshed out quickly and become entangled in thought-provoking plot after plot - and the payoffs are consistently fantastic. Another highlight was The Intruiges of Haruhi Suzumiya - I'm avoiding spoilers here, but just know this: It's 250 pages of fascinating time-travel mayhem and buildup for a wind-cuttingly breathtaking payoff. I'd also like to briefly touch on one other thing that I don't see discussion on - the time period it's set in. Haruhi adopts this wonderful early-2000s setting, before the age of mobile devices and instant messaging and I have to say I find this time period wonderful. It's an era that's slowly becoming retro and carries this strangely calm, analogue vibe. I love it!

Much like the show though, Haruhi does have it's weaker parts. The second novel - The Sigh of Haruhi Suzumiya - was a weaker arc in the series (not helped by Kyoani's controversial Endless Eight adaptation, which is actually one of the best chapters in the novels!) - and Sigh is definitely the weakest of the books here, opting for more exposition and character building. By no means did it sour my experience, but I imagine it might put some people off from continuing to read after a fantastic book #1. I'll also say this - it's not going to be for everyone. Your enjoyment will hinge on if you enjoy the "air system" of slice of life character-focused works - particularly when the characters here have such contrasting and interesting personalities.

In a day and age of fast-moving online media, I don't take the time to sit down and read a novel these days. But Haruhi is worth your time - and there's really no better opportunity to do so given the recent Yen Press reprint, return of the author at the end of 2019 for the fantastic Intuition of Haruhi Suzumiya and recent uptick in promotional events and crossovers from the series.

I mentioned before about it being worthwhile just to experience something that was such a hit in the mid-2000s, but I think Haruhi is worthy of more than just being recommendable as a museum piece, but as a truly fantastic read that has withstood the weight of 18 years of works that have stood upon its shoulders. Read it - or watch it.