If there is one element of manga that I find a bit distressing, it is the generally atrocious pacing. This then leads to series that last for a decade, maybe even two, with the story slowing down even further with each passing year. What we’re left with is stories that have lost their sense of direction over the years, whether this be because of “power creep” in Shonen (in which the established power-curve for characters and their fights increases by several order of magnitudes, so much that you have to wonder how the later chapters could occur in the same world), long-abandoned plot threads, or maybe the art and writing styles change so significantly that it becomes impossible to reconcile earlier stories with later arcs. Granted, this does not apply to ALL manga (some series, such as Nausicaa, avoid this entirely, because the author is not sponsored by a massive comics mogul who cares not for the quality of the work so much as he makes money), but the exceptions are rare, given that it is a massive business in Japan and both author and publisher alike LOVE to have a stable source of income.

I would like to say that Kentaro Miura’s Berserk avoids these problems, being that it’s a favorite series of mine, but after reading Volumes 32 and 33 back-to-back this past weekend, I have to admit what the fifteen year-old in me has been too proud to: the series is deeply flawed on a number of levels, almost all of them arising out of the infrequent release dates and Miura’s slowing sensibilities.

Not that this has always been the case; when the series began, it was lightning fast. Yes, there were a few filler stories towards the beginning, basically establishing the brutality of the world Guts (the protagonists) inhabits, and the massive jump in tone, space and time that occurs at the close of Volume 3 is alienating at first, but these are only the awkward growing pains of a storyteller still not completely comfortable with his medium or characters. Despite these hiccups, though, the pacing is still excellent (see Guts’ development in Volumes 4 and 5, compare it to the character introduced in Volumes 1-3, and marvel at how fully realized the character is despite the sparse nature of the dialogue and the focus on gory action), the art is gorgeous (despite a few hiccups in Volume 3) and the dialogue, while not brilliant, is at least effective.

Miura keeps this pace until Volume 12, managing to avoid any major fumbles throughout. While Guts is certainly still the star of the show, it is hard not to be won over by the various members of the Band of the Hawk. All the way from noble ubermensch Griffith down to conflicted, bitter and nihilistic Corkus (perhaps one of the best developed minor characters in comics history; honestly, he has about ten lines in the entire series, all of which SEEM to just be snarky cynicism, and yet by the time he exits the stage, you will understand him as well as any of these absurd superheroes who have 60 years of writing behind them), these characters are compelling individuals. Hackneyed as they might seem initially, each ends up well-defined and explored by the end of the arc.

The world they inhabit, meanwhile, has been built with such precision that you might swear Miura carries in him the blood of those Swiss watchmakers whose families have known only the spinning of those gears for generations. Every dimension of this Midland has been explored in no small depth; if you do not understand the political or religious dimensions of this country, if you do not have an excellent vision of the region’s history, then you have simply not been paying attention. Little exposition as he gives his reader, Miura nevertheless manages to make his reader familiar enough with Midland that they soon pick up on who and what various Coats of Arms represent, what various bits of slang refer to, and just how important certain in-world allusions are. He is constructing something of a language in this way, so much that discussing the series with an outsider might leave them thinking you’re a history major of some obscure persuasion. And behind all of this lurks the shadow of something Lovecraftian, growing and pulsing underneath what is an already godless world.

And all this in 12 volumes!

While Volume 13 finds the series reverts back to its origins (monster bashing), it is now grounded in the revelations of the past 9 books and so possesses a great deal of significance for the regular reader. Miura uses this time to tell what is, in many ways, a mirror of the last several volumes, watching Guts move from a sort of family life to maddened serial killer and then back again; even the finale of volume 22 recalls the twisted apocalypse that closes volume 12, seeing Guts reunited with the very faces that left him at the end of that encounter (though in a twisted parody, of course). And though this seems to signal a fascinating direction for the series (and a far more hopeful one), it is here that things go nasty.

What was a fascinating mishmash of politics and fantasy simply turns into a very typical JRPG story. Guts assembles a new crew of well-balanced specialists (there is the thief, the witch, the agile fencer, the caretaker, and even Puck plays the part of healer, changing from Guts’ only tether to sanity into a constant gag-reel and convenient plot device) and then sets off across a number of generic fantasy locales in search of… the kingdom of Elves (is there ANYMORE generic fantasy setting?). Periphery to this, the Lovecraftian elements are finding their teeth removed and becoming something less sinister; at times, it’s hard to remember that you’re reading Berserk; if it weren’t for the oddly-placed rape scenes (some even say GRATUITOUSLY placed), you might suspect that you were reading the newest graphic adaptation of a Dragonlance novel.

This image is in no way dispelled by the molasses-like pacing. The plot meanders as much as Guts’ crew does; five chapters go by, and all that has changed are the vital signs of Guts’ opponents. Sometimes the series will jump to Griffith’s war with the emperor of Kushan, but these battle-scenes (gorgeously illustrated as they are) serve very little purpose apart from displaying Miura’s virtuosity as a designer of monsters and illustrator of flying eyeballs (honestly, there should be a drinking game for Berserk: for every ten eyeballs that go flying out of a skull, drink yourself a shot of anything. Even water. No doubt you’ll be drunk by page 10 of any volume, regardless of the alcohol content of the drink). If things are getting too hectic, never fear; a two-page spread of Griffith looking pretty is certain to follow.

It is impossible to miss this, even for a fanboy such as I; Volumes 32 and 33 are the ideal showcase for these downfalls. By now the plot development has slowed to nothing; there are too many battle scenes to focus on. Forget the characters; they are too busy murdering everything in sight to wonder about themselves. Occasionally, The Beast will possess Guts and scare the shit out of everyone in sight, but this struggle ceases to be terrifying when you realize it has been the central conflict of the series since Volume 23. Yes, we know Guts has a truly demonic half; this was disturbing shit back around Volume 20, when Guts would find himself fantasizing about rape and be unable to deny the pleasure this brought him. Now, it’s just a technique for adding artificial tension to these battles (“Oh, no! If Guts pushes himself this far AGAIN, we’re going to have to deal with THAT!” you’re certain to hear someone note at least once a fight in volumes that are jam-packed with them).

This awful pacing is not an illusion created by the sporadic nature of the release dates. Rather, Miura seems to simply have become completely complacent and bored with his story. Though he has full editorial control over his work by this point (note how he can release these chapters at his leisure), he has not taken advantage of this to satisfy his fans but to satisfy his fetish for drawing battle-porn. Hence, why every new chapter is composed of at least 5 double-spreads, or how Guts and company have been on a boat for roughly three years (they recently got off but only in order to have a little bit of a sidequest that seems more than a mirror of Shadow Over Innsmouth). The series has simply become a lavish and directionless mirror of its namesake, content to run from battle to battle without resting, thinking or talking until there is nothing left to kill.

If the sloppy pacing, sporadic release dates and directionless sweep of the plot aren’t enough to convince you that Miura has stopped caring, you might consider just WHAT he is doing when he is not writing the series: according to Miura himself, he’s a bit too busy with Idol M@ster to be bothered with Berserk. How lovely; it seems managing fictional pre-teens until they become exploited adolescent sex-symbols is more important than putting a proper close to the Berserk saga. Oh, Miura…thank you so much.

P.S.: Miura has mentioned before that volume 23 was only the BEGINNING of Berserk, and that the series will have a happy ending. Given that Volume 23 came out ten years ago and that the tone of the series has gotten no happier (lighter though it might be), it seems a sure thing that our grandchildren will be reading the newest issues put out by Miura’s ghost while we try to remember who these characters were to begin with, addled as we are by alzheimer’s.

– Austin Price