Vampire Hunter D

Vampire Hunter D is the first in a (still-ongoing) series of science fantasy novels written by Hideyuki Kikuchi and illustrated by the legendary Yoshitaka Amano. This first volume was published in 1983; and, in 1985, it was adapted into a film-length, direct-to-video animation that became a cult classic in the 1990s, when circles of genre fiction fans discovered ultraviolent sci-fi anime like Akira and Ghost in the Shell.   

I will admit that I was never able to get into the anime, whose art style doesn’t appeal to me personally, but I recently became interested in the novel series after rereading Gene Wolfe’s The Book of the New Sun. Wolfe’s tetralogy is perhaps the defining work of the “dying earth” genre of speculative fiction, in which human civilization has decayed to a medieval level after a global disaster in the far future.

Vampire Hunter D is set roughly ten thousand years in the future, when what remains of humankind lives in isolated settlements supported by barely-functional robots and occasionally policed by traveling bounty hunters sent from the Capital, which is filled with ruins but nevertheless seems to be the last city of any size. The story takes place on the Frontier, which has a pseudo-American “Weird West” sort of atmosphere that will perhaps be familiar to fans of Stephen King’s Dark Tower series.

Lurking above the ranches and saloons and cowboys are the remnants of a European-style aristocracy, who live in gigantic castles fortified by hypermodern surveillance technology. The Nobility, as they’re called, are immortal. Through various genetic alterations, they’ve come to resemble mythical vampires, and they’re proud to refer to themselves as such. Though the scattered Nobility are capable of artificially manufacturing their own nutrition, they have grown cruel and proud, and some terrorize humans for sport.

Doris Lang, a seventeen-year-old girl who manages her late father’s ranch outside of a small and dusty town on the Frontier, has fallen victim to the attention of the local vampire lord, Count Magnus Lee. Knowing that it’s only a matter of days before she’s either taken by the vampire or exiled by her fellow townspeople, Doris stands on the highway and waylays travelers in hopes of finding a professional hunter who specializes in handling monstrous mutants.

In a brilliant stroke of luck, the first hunter Doris encounters is one of the greatest, a vampire hunter who goes simply by the initial “D.” Though he appears to be a beautiful young man, D is a mixed-species dhampir who possesses the superhuman powers of vampires without most of their weaknesses. For his own mysterious reasons, D consents to be “hired” by Doris for no other payment than room and board.

The ancient Count Magnus, who is backed by his beautiful but deadly daughter Larmica, will not be easy to defeat. To make matters even more complicated, vampires are the least of the dangers threatening the humans who live on the Frontier, and D will also have to contend with werewolves, witches, outlaws, and lynch mobs if he hopes to keep Doris safe. There are eight chapters in Vampire Hunter D, and each presents its own unique set of villains. All of these threats eventually converge into a perfect storm of danger; but, in the end, it all comes down to a battle between D and the vampire lord.    

There’s a great deal of action in Vampire Hunter D, all of which is translated in a quick and punchy style by Kevin Leahy. There’s a somewhat shonen manga style to the action scenes, in which each of the characters performs a series of special attacks that have a rock-paper-scissors way of canceling one another out. I’m not generally a fan of action scenes in prose fiction, but Kikuchi’s sense of pacing is excellent, as is the creativity devoted to D’s opponents.

I’m also impressed by how lowkey horny this book is. Stories about vampires are infamously erotic, but Vampire Hunter D has a more universal Frank Frazetta style of sexualization. Gender, age, and even species don’t matter; everyone gets the same “Vaseline on the camera lens” treatment. As with the monster-of-the-week action scenes, I found this 1980s pulp fiction style of writing to be extremely charming.

It’s perhaps because of the nostalgic charm that I didn’t mind the story’s relative lack of psychological depth or complexity. Though she’s capable of defending herself against lesser monsters, Doris is a classic damsel in distress, and D remains mysterious from start to finish. D’s opponents seem to be evil simply because they’re evil, and even Count Magnus doesn’t have a personality that goes deeper than the usual vampire tropes. His daughter Larmica is granted a modicum of character development, but this is sadly limited. Still, the gothic expressions of the “dying world” setting are fantastic, and I appreciate that the world itself has far more character than the actors who drive the plot. 

I’m given to understand that, as a series, Vampire Hunter D leaves behind its formulaic action-oriented structure after the first few volumes. I read the first volume around the time it was originally published in English translation in 2005 and didn’t think much of it, but I find it far more compelling now that I’m older and have a better understanding of the story’s genre tropes, as well as how Hideyuki Kikuchi fits into a timeline of Japanese dark fantasy that’s recently come to wider international attention with the 2022 video game Elden Ring.

Dark Horse Books has published the first thirty books in translation, which are currently being collected into ten omnibus volumes. The first novel stands alone, and it’s a relatively quick read. I’d definitely recommend Vampire Hunter D to dark fantasy genre fans, as well as to anyone curious about the roots of JRPG video game tropes and imagery.

Tower Dungeon

Tsutomu Nihei’s newest manga series, Tower Dungeon, is a grim and grisly dark fantasy about a small team of knights attempting to rescue a princess from an evil wizard at the top of the mysterious Dragon Tower.

This purposefully bog-standard fantasy premise is a bait-and-switch for the actual story, which is as brutal and fiercely imaginative as any of Nihei’s sci-fi dystopias. Instead of being set in the claustrophobic cable-choked interior of a spaceship, the visual space of Tower Dungeon is filled with vaulted ceilings and crumbling stone walls, but Nihei still dazzles the reader with labyrinthine passageways and an awe-inspiring sense of scale. 

Nihei’s signature body horror is on full display in Tower Dungeon, which is populated by the shambling undead, grotesque human graftings, uncanny automatons, and abject abominations. Even when they’re not monstrous, I love the designs of Nihei’s heavily armored knights.

There’s a bit of fanservice, sort of? But not really, and I’m not complaining. If I had to guess, I’d say that Nihei has a crush on Malenia, the deadly woman warrior from Elden Ring, but don’t we all.

The pacing of Tower Dungeon is excellent, and the action sequences are balanced by downtime and light banter that doesn’t try too hard to be funny. The characters offer very little exposition, but the background setting is intriguing. Given my experience with Nihei’s previous manga series, I’m not expecting the story to coalesce into any sort of cohesive plot, but I’m happy to join this strange journey wherever it leads.

I think, honestly, that Tower Dungeon is the Dark Souls manga I always wanted. I hope it gets an English translation soon!

The Best Japanese Science Fiction Stories

Title: The Best Japanese Science Fiction Stories
Editors: John L. Apostolou and Martin H. Greenburg
Publication Year: 1997
Publisher: Barricade Books
Pages: 176

In the introduction of The Best Japanese Science Fiction Stories, editor John Apostolou informs the reader that, prior to the publication of this collection, it was very difficult to find Japanese science fiction in English translation. Translations of a few Abe Kōbō novels (such as The Ark Sakura and Inter Ice Age 4) had been published by Knopf, but the majority of translations of science fiction stories (such Arai Motoko’s A Ship to the Stars and Takachiho Haruka’s The Adventures of Dirty Pair) were only available from the Kodansha English Library, which was (and still is) virtually impossible to find outside of Japan. The purpose of The Best Japanese Science Fiction Stories, then, was to collect translations of short stories by major Japanese sci-fi authors such as Hoshi Shinichi, Hanmura Ryō, and Komatsu Sakyō.

Most of the thirteen stories in this collection are less than ten pages long. Some (like Abe Kōbō’s “The Flood” and Komatsu Sakyō’s “The Savage Mouth”) read like modern parables of the nastier aspects of human nature, while some (like Hanmura Ryō’s “Tansu” and Kōno Tensei’s “Triceratops”) are more dark fantasy than science fiction. Others, however, are examples of speculative fiction at its best. One of my favorite stories in the collection is Tsutsui Yasutaka’s “Standing Woman,” which is a window into a dystopian future in which anyone caught grumbling about the wrong thing – whether it’s high prices at the supermarket or too much overtime at work – is punished by being “vegetized” and planted next to a sidewalk or park bench. The story that closes the collection, Yano Tetsu’s “The Legend of the Paper Spaceship,” comes as close as a twenty-page short story can get to being a masterpiece of science fiction. It features a mysterious woman, a psychic son, an isolated village in the country, and strange legends that all come together to suggest secrets and cosmic mythologies that are illuminated just enough to capture the reader’s imagination.

Although the translation is a bit wonky in places (particularly in Kita Morio’s “The Empty Field”), I really enjoyed reading all of the stories in The Best Japanese Science Fiction Stories, and the foreword and introduction provided interesting glimpses into the process of how these stories were translated. If I am allowed one complaint, however, it would be that there are no female writers represented by this collection. I would recommend that anyone looking for an overview of the many female sci-fi writers in Japan should check out Kotani Mari’s essay “Alien Spaces and Alien Bodies in Japanese Women’s Science Fiction” in the essay collection Robot Ghosts and Wired Dreams. (If you can read Japanese, Kotani’s monograph Technogynesis is also fun and informative.) In any case, The Best Japanese Science Fiction Stories served its purpose by making me want to read more Japanese science fiction short stories, and from here I’m planning on moving on to Speculative Japan and Speculative Japan 2.