Minnesota-based cartoonist Lars Martinson went to Japan in 2003 to teach English on the JET Program, an exchange initiative sponsored by the Japanese government. During his three-year stay in rural Fukuoka, he was inspired to break ground on an ambitiously stylized four-part graphic novel named Tonoharu (Pliant Press) based on the trials and tribulations of living in Japan. Part Two was released in November, and I caught up with the artist to discuss the series so far and Japanese life through an expat’s eyes.
How would you describe the differences in Tonoharu: Part Two compared to the previous book? Did you try anything different in terms of storytelling or approach?
With each volume I've tried to explore different facets of living abroad. The first book focuses on the sense of loneliness and isolation that occurs after the “honeymoon period” of cultural acclimation ends. The second book deals with the relationships that develop, both with members of the native population and with other expats.
My approach to storytelling has gotten more deliberate as I've gone along. For Tonoharu: Part One, I started by writing “Page 1, Scene 1” at the top of a piece of paper and launching into a detailed script before I had a clear sense of what direction I wanted the story to go in. Diving straight into minutiae like that is like working on the interior design of a house that hasn't been built yet; you should know how big the windows are before you pick out the curtains. So for Part Two—and now Part Three—I've given much more thought to the structure of the story, and made sure I was happy with the big picture before I got too wrapped up in details and nuance.
Tell us about your experiences on the JET Program. What made you choose to apply, and what was your overall take on the three years that you were there for?
When I was 16, I lived with a host family in Nagoya for a summer vacation exchange. The experience inspired a lifelong interest in international travel. I'd go on to live in Thailand and Norway for a year apiece as an exchange student, and visit a dozen or so other countries as a tourist. After I graduated from college, I wanted to try working abroad, and also wanted to return to Japan. A friend of mine introduced me to the JET Program, and I knew immediately that it was right for me. And sure enough, my three years in the JET Program were among the best I've ever had.
All JET participants hit high and low points while in Japan. What were some of yours?
My elementary school classes were among the most satisfying experiences. I planned all the lessons pretty much single-handedly, so once I got the hang of it, it was gratifying to see how excited the kids were about learning English, and how much they retained.
One of the more frustrating aspects of the experience, at least in the beginning, was the language barrier. It's hard to form meaningful friendships when you can't—y'know—talk to people. So it was always sad when I wanted to befriend someone and they clearly wanted to befriend me, but the logistics of not being able to communicate effectively got in the way.
Last summer, it was announced that the JET Program is facing sweeping budget cuts that may threaten its future. What’s your take on the value of the program today in Japan and in the participants’ home countries?
I suppose with the economy being what it is, some cuts are probably inevitable. But I really hope they don't gut the JET Program. My life has been enhanced beyond measure by having the opportunity to interact with foreign cultures, and I hope Japanese students will continue to be given the same opportunity. It's hard to quantify the benefits of the JET Program, but that doesn't really make them any less real or important.
What kind of feedback on the books have your received from JETs and those associated with the Japanese community?
I've tried to make the book accessible to readers regardless of their background, but it goes without saying that those who are familiar with Japan or the JET Program are able to appreciate it on a different level. JETs tend to pick up on all these little details in the books that other readers breeze pass without notice. I remember a JET alum commenting on a scene in Part One where the main character wears a fancy suit to his first day on the job, but since it's summer vacation everyone else in the teacher's room is wearing ratty gym clothes. It's little things like that that you'd only consciously notice if you'd been in that situation yourself.
With its intricate design, the series is clearly a labor of love, but it’s tinged with melancholy—the protagonist Dan Wells is described in the prologue by his incoming successor as having an “ever-present look of defeat on his face.” Does this mean that we won’t get to see him enjoy life in Japan for the rest of the series? How much of this is reflected in your own time in Japan as a teacher?
The prologue is non-chronological, taking place after the events of the story proper. So some foreshadowing was certainly intended, including the“look of defeat” line. But at the same time I wouldn't extrapolate too much based on the prologue, as there are still surprises in store in Part Three. I'm sorry, I'm sure that answer is maddeningly vague, but I don't want to give away much until the third book is a little further along.
I borrowed from my own experiences in writing Tonoharu, and obviously it bears a great deal of anecdotal similarity to my own life. But ultimately it's a work of fiction. There are aspects of my personality in the main character, but he's not an avatar for myself as many people assume.
What scene in Tonoharu are you most proud of?
I like the scenes with Steve (a sort of self-stylized Casanova-type character); he was really fun to write. But generally speaking, I'm much more proud when I feel like there's a good flow to the story overall. I try to create scenes that work in concert to achieve that, rather than treating each scene as a discrete unit. There have been times when I've axed a great scene because it disrupted the flow of the story.
You’re at the midpoint in the series after more than two years since the first book’s release. Has drawing in such a stylized “Western” way versus manga style made it a much bigger time commitment to bring to completion?
Actually, I've spent about seven years on the first two books of the series. Four years to finish the first book, and about three for the second. For most of that time I had either a job or was in school, so I wasn't able to work on Tonoharu full time. But either way it's been a much bigger time commitment than I'd ever imagined. Originally I thought the whole thing would take me three years tops. If you’d have said that it would take me seven years just to get to the halfway point, I never would have believed you. Even the best, best case scenario, it will take me another three years to finish the second half of the series, meaning the whole thing will have taken me a decade—at least. Unbelievable…
So yeah, if I could do it over again I'd probably pick a more streamlined style. I don't think I would have gone for a manga style, though, just something with less crosshatching. Once Tonoharu is done, I think I'll experiment with gray ink washes instead.
You lived in Tokushima City and studied East Asian calligraphy at Shikoku University for two years on a Monbusho Scholarship. How did that experience aid or inspire your work on the series?
The study improved my work immeasurably, my inking in particular. I'm now convinced that East Asian calligraphy is world's most sophisticated inking tradition. I think that cartoonists and illustrators of all stripes could benefit from studying it. I'm working on a graphic novel about East Asian calligraphy on the side; it'll probably be my next project after Tonoharu is done.
You received a Xeric Grant and Monbusho Scholarship prior to the release of the first book. How did this come about?
I applied for them and got lucky, I guess. The Xeric Grant is a self-publishing grant for cartoonists, so that was right up my alley. The Monbusho Scholarship is more general, and I've heard they tend to favor medicine and engineering and stuff like that. So I don't know if I got lucky, or if something about my application intrigued them, or what. But I wrote about the application process for the Monbusho here, if anyone's interested.
Do you think that you still would have written Tonoharu if you didn’t receive this funding?
Actually, the first book was 99% done when I applied for the Xeric and the Monbusho; it just wasn't published yet. But anyway, comics are my calling, so I'll continue to do them regardless of how much (or how little) money I make from them. I make some money from the sales of my books now, but it's not a living wage, so I need to supplement my comics income with freelance work. This in turn takes time away from cartooning, which means it takes me even longer to finish new books. It's a vicious cycle, I tell ya…
What things do you enjoy about Japanese culture?
Gosh, too many to mention. But to name a few: karaoke boxes, yakiniku, enkais, the “eeeeeh” exclamation of surprise, the TV show London Hearts circa 2003-2005, the teeny-tiny shopping carts, Japanese “visual novel” video games, the high-tech toilets, the blue change trays at cash registers, the calligraphy, etc., etc…
Do you have any favorite anime or manga artists and series?
You would think that I'd be well versed in manga and anime since I'm a cartoonist that's interested in Japan, but actually that isn't the case. So my answers are pretty banal: for manga I like Doraemon and Sazae-san—I HATE theSazae-san anime series, but the comics are great. For anime I love Hayao Miyazaki's work. So yeah, pretty predictable.
I think a big part of my relative lack of interest in Japanese comics is I'm not really into mainstream, Shonen Jump-type fare, and Japan doesn't really have a strong independent/alternative comics scene. There are exceptions (Top Shelf just put out a great anthology of Japanese alternative manga called AX for example), but I'd argue that America's alternative comics scene is much more vibrant than Japan's, which is ironic when you consider how miniscule the U.S. comics market is compared to Japan.
The U.S. has this great self-published comics tradition with a wide variety of great stuff, but in Japan, self-published comics (doujinshi) are synonymous with pornographic parodies for some odd reason. So you'd be hard-pressed to find a good self-published “slice-of-life” comic in Japan, but you can find thousands of self-published Sailor Moon sex comics. It's madness.
You've done a number of public appearances this year, most recently at the Miami Book Fair. What was your impression of these events?
My two-year stint as a Monbusho scholar began on April 1, 2008, the very same day Tonoharu: Part One came out. So I never had a chance to do public appearances to promote my work until I got back to the States earlier this year. So I've been trying to make up for lost time, and have done as many comics and book fairs as I can. Sales at conventions range from pretty good to dismal, but it's a great way to network with cartoonists and other publishing professionals, so I enjoy doing them.
The Miami Book Fair was hands down the most surreal. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that I presented at the same fair as Salman Rushdie. It doesn't seem possible.
Any other messages for our readers?
Buy my books, folks, and help me make my dream of earning a living wage (the independent cartoonist's version of superstardom) a reality! Also, if anyone's interested in learning more about my work or about upcoming appearances, check out my website.
Tonoharu’s first two parts are in stores now. Visit Lars and purchase autographed books online at http://larsmartinson.com.
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