Genshiken’s relevance to the fandom has been well-noted for some time. Given the truth of its piercing observations and all, you could practically call it a sociological study (participant and non-participant observation as means of methodology, obviously) in otaku, all entertainment purposes aside. No stone’s left unturned: everyone, from gamer to erogamer, cosplayer to fujoshi, manga-ka to doujinshi group — they’re all there. In this we see glimpses of the people behind the passion and fanaticism, and we see reflections of ourselves waving back at us.

The difference between the otaku of the motherland and those of the wide internet expanse don’t go amiss, though. I’d like to think that we’re better off for lacking the very physical presence we’re wont to judge others by; what matters here isn’t how you look or dress or talk, but merely how much anime you’ve watched or manga you’ve read. In other words, it’s easier to reach out and connect with others, and forge a sense of community as a result.

This leads me to my tangential digression, of which I hope you’ll excuse this once. Having the privilege of obtaining not one but two detractors in the short span of 24 hours, I thought I’d deign a little time breaking their arguments into little pieces with the power of logic before heading into the meat of the post, so feel free to skip about two paragraphs down if you’re reading this from the comfort of your feedreader or an incoming link. For the rest of you, gory details after the cut.

Ashley’s post, written with the convenient escape clauses of self-aware hypocrisy and “incoherent ramblings” in mind, seems impressive at surface level. Her focus on the semantics of my argument for community (casual mention of trackbacks, blogrolls, comments and so on) is first and foremost an irrelevant conclusion which she later expands on into a tu quoque. Her central thesis, the eloquently phrased “ego-cocks”, is also an appeal to motive.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if she had ended there, but it goes on. She proceeds to illustrate a dark world of narcissistic bloggers who do everything for the sake of ego, fame, reputation by means of a false dilemma, before following up shortly with the perfect solution fallacy. To top it all off, the icing on the cake’s how she employs an argument from personal incredulity throughout, her idea of nobody being able to blog for blogging’s sake and not personal gain forming the crux of her thoughts.

Mike’s post, on the other hand, is ridiculously overt in its intentions; the classic ad hominem is there from the beginning, in addition to the association fallacy in his remark about the “confederacy of dunces” and Reductio ad Hitlerum, (of which the last is taken quite literally). He also appears to have taken a leaf or two from Ashley’s book, since he commits the same tu quoque and appeal to motive fallacies that she has.

In Closing: Both posts, aside from being what I call 100% Pure Logic-Free Goodness, are classic textbook examples of how not to formulate an argument and/or proceed with reasoning. I have to giving you points for trying at the very least, but I must request that you equip yourself with basic thinking skills before attempting to launch a personal attack of some sort on myself and The ABC.

Returning to Genshiken, I’ve found that the measure of what an otaku is can be found in its volumes, all 9 of them. It’s a sobering, existential read that reminds you of the bigger things, and how, when all’s said and done at the end of the day, it’s just more fun to do things together as a group when weighed against the alternative solitude. There’s the shared sense of belonging and the kindred spirit thing as you communicate with people halfway across the world from you who know just exactly what you mean. The same is demonstrated here in Genshiken right up till the closing panels, where Madarame, alongside Tanaka and Kugayama, ponder upon how they would make Kasukabe moe.

But what happens when it’s time to say goodbye and it all ends? People drop out of the fandom for different reasons, and while it’s a lot easier to do so online by just closing your blog and wandering away into the big bad world outside, the ties that bind in real life differ considerably. I’m not cheapening the fun times I have on IRC in channels where I spend hours debating with my friends on fun topics like the value of Shana II and Night Wizard, but there’s a different quality about saying goodbye to living, breathing people you’ve been in the presence of for years.

First of all, though, context. There’s always been a certain tension that the manga-ka has managed to slip between Madarame and Kasukabe. The crush is never explicitly mentioned until push comes to shove, and while I’m certainly not the type to look at details and pick up hints, it became apparent later on that Madarame had a thing for her — something I only noticed in the New Year chapter two chapters away.

Chapter 53, Volume 9, then, tells of Madarame’s attempted confession to Kasukabe — a far cry from his early days of 3D-only preferences. As per Genshiken’s preference for realistic depiction, nothing out of the ordinary happens. It’s a confession like any other that you’d attempt to make in real life, an almost-confession ultimately drowned out by the bigger picture that girls and guys in any harem series would do well to take a leaf from. He wants to tell her so bad, but he knows of the implications if he does. He treasures the friendship, but just wants to say something, anything as proof that he once held a torch for her.

He ends up thanking her instead of confessing. Here’s where the moment is, for she bursts into tears not too long after he goes through a bumbling, embarrassed explanation about why he thanked her. She then reveals the reason for her crying — it’s been four long years, and the original Genshiken is beginning to fall apart due to their members graduating. It’s a bittersweet period that can only entail having to “move on”, as Madarame puts it. But what’s so special about all this?

Kasukabe’s crying says volumes — initially a tag-along who despised otaku but there for her boyfriend’s sake, she’s grown to appreciate the members of Genshiken for who they are and how they’ve enriched her life. She’s going to miss them, and Madarame thanking her only reminds her of this, just as she was reminiscing about the past. It’s not goodbye forever, but the thought of them not being able to meet in a place she’s come to take for granted must be unbearable to think of. She realises that, and cries.

In doing so she cries for all of us who’s ever had to part with friends due to a shared yet transient hobby. Whether it’s a change in preferences or real life constraints preventing one from continuing, Kasukabe’s tears are for every group or clique that’s parted ways. It’s true that connecting with someone when you no longer have anything in common is a difficult, almost uphill task, but that’s how the world works. Her tears reminded me of the possibility that any one of my internet friends could just one day pack up and leave anime blogging, and I won’t have any way to persuade him or her to return.

Such is reality. I’d like to think that my anime blog serves as a reminder to me about one of the reasons why I started it all — killing two birds with one stone by getting to know others with similar preferences better while honing my writing skills for my major later on.

Thankfully, it’s a lot harder for anyone to completely leave the online community, no thanks to the pervasive accessibility of broadband nowadays. Unless I develop a life-threatening illness which can only be cured through a lack of exposure to anime and manga or lose control over my digits, I’m definitely not going anywhere any time soon. The chapter was a great example of how everything just keeps on moving even when you don’t want to and how you’ve just got to roll with the punches life deals you, and I’m grateful for that reminder.

This entry was posted on Saturday, December 15th, 2007 at 11:58 pm and is filed under Manga, Review. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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