BLog reviews recent boys love, yaoi and LGBTQ+ English translation manga.

The Summer With You: My Summer of You Vol. 2
Story and art: Nagisa Furuya
Translation: Jocelyne Allen
Publisher: Kodansha Comics
Release Date: February 15, 2022

Think of all the stories in the mainstream recently without villains.

Somehow, at least at the highest levels of pop culture, Pixar is dominating with movies like Encanto and Turning Red—Coco, Luca and Wall-E are clear test runs of the concept–where the bad guy isn’t so much a moustache twirling villain, but a concept or a repressed truth. There are still clear antagonists; Abuela Alma in Encanto believes the only way to keep her family safe in a world that killed her love is for them to be perfect and exploit their powers, even if it is in service to the greater good, while Mei’s Grandmother from Turning Red has continued a harmful, repressive tradition passed down through her daughters to her granddaughter. But neither Abuela Alma or Mei’s Grandmother are evil, just human. While drastically different films, they’re both actually quite similar structure-wise; a matriarchal grandmother and her rigid expectations, intergenerational trauma, beliefs that aren’t to be questioned and a new generation breaking away from the status quo for the better of all.

This is something BL’s always done well. Again, there’s a difference between a villain and an antagonist or narrative tension. A story like The Summer With You may not have a villain, or be blasting words like “homophobia” or “fear of intimacy”, but they’re the tensions at the core of this quiet little love story.

At the end of volume 1 we left film nerd Toda Wataru in a new relationship with the beautiful and talented Saeki Chiharu, cemented after the latter attempted to break the relationship cleanly and run away. Wataru and Chiharu are both at different universities, Wataru working at a movie theatre and living with his family while Chiharu lives on his own. They’re both busy, so they try to make the most of their time together.

That’s about it.

Seriously, there’s maybe occasional hints of jealously, and plenty of insecurity between the two of them as they settle into their year-old relationship, but no more than could be expected from a normal relationship–BL or IRL. There’s no jealous ex, or callous crushee trying to force a wedge between them, or blackmail, or threat of cheating. There’s just two guys in a relationship that’s new and strange for both of them. Wataru, our dark-haired film nerd, doesn’t think he’s worthy of Chiharu’s love and has trouble being affectionate with his boyfriend. Tall, light-haired hottie Chiharu clearly has strong (sometimes very physically-based) feelings for Wataru that he tries to reign in, and struggles with how much he should reveal for fear of pushing his boyfriend too far. What we’re left is that classic BL “I love you but I have no idea how.”

Part of that is indeed homophobia, both societal and internal: that classic BL “but we’re two guys” thing. There’s moments that Wataru might think about taking Chiharu’s hand, or kissing him, but they’re in public, or he stops and second guesses himself. He also struggles with intimacy and affection, both receiving and giving. A significant moment, and one of the most adorable scenes, is after Wataru misses the last train–again, classic BL–so he sleeps over at Chiharu’s, passing out immediately from a long work day. He’s apologetic in the morning and wants to thank Chiharu, who asks his boyfriend for a kiss but, not only that, to be the one to initiate it. Again, a small moment drawn out over a few pages, but conveys so much while being so cute and lovely.

Boys’ love benefits from the genre in this sense. It can get away with being a bit slow and slice-of-life-y, or being low action because we buy the movie ticket to see boys… in love. All the ensuing conflict or tensions floweth forth from that pure BL spring. But a story with no driving force is fluff at best, or boring at worst. While very little happens, at no point does The Summer of You feel boring, because what does happens is executed so well. We get to go along with Wataru on the trepidatious journey into intimacy.

Nagisa Furuya’s storytelling strength is in two characters who feel fully formed and could stand on their own, but by putting them together we get to learn about them as they learn about each other. There’s a fantastic moment when Wataru gets approached by an English-speaking tourist, and is saved by the arrival of Chiharu who, of course, speaks conversational English. Later that day, after attending a director Q&A for a new film together, handsome Chiharu, of course, gets approached by an industry talent scout. He has no interest in acting, so Wataru asks about directing. Chiharu explains that he has aspirations to translate Japanese films to open up his favourites to a wider audience, and how good translation includes the subtleties of language, meaning and feeling. That’s such a lovely moment, and a fantastic detail about a character who’s very quiet, cerebral and sensitive. Similarly, at the requisite fireworks festival scene Wataru helps a lost child, without thinking, and gets separated from Chiharu. When they manage to meet up again, Chiharu tells his love that he doesn’t need to apologize for getting separated because helping a lost kid is exactly like him, and that makes Chiharu happy. Again: lovely, and communicates so much with so little.

Like any media, good BL can (and does) still have villains; Bad Boys, Happy Home quite literally has a drug-smuggling, human-trafficking, laundry-obsessed criminal syndicate, doesn’t get more villainous than that. But at the end of the day it’s hard to tell a good story without great characters that can stand on their own even if all they’re doing is helping their family set up for a party or sweeping a temple. It’s astounding to me how good the My Summer of You series manages to be with so little action. At the centre of it, and the driving force, is two boys in love. Primo BL.

Level of Problematic: Marriage Story; proof that BL can be compelling without jealous (female) exes, suicidal gay fathers or sexual assault.

Level of Adorable: Call Me By Your Name; again, Nagisa Furuya does so much with so little, that’s really the strength of this one. So much of the story is told in these small moments, even glances or words that aren’t said. And it’s so frickin’ beautiful.

Level of Spiciness: Lost in Translation; just the barest hints of spice. Just the barest…