It's taken nine volumes, but I've finally reached a point in the SAO sage that I haven't seen animated. This is aaaaallllllll new to me. I'm not sure how long this arc is going to last—especially since the two prologues that lead this volume actually sets up two distinctly different stories—but I'm buckled up and ready.
Oh yeah, you read that right: There are two prologues. And then an interlude. Chapter One literally starts just shy the midway point.
It's important—and mostly entertaining—setup.
The diciest section is actually that first prologue. And it's not so much dicy because of what is said, but rather what isn't. It launches reading like an AU version of Kirito. He's 11 years old, living in an idyllic town where he and his best friend, Eugeo, serve as woodchoppers. They're tasked with felling a massive tree that impedes the town's ability to farm to its ideal level. However, their world turns upside down when they venture beyond the town and break some rules.
If you've read eight preceding volumes of SAO, this is a very befuddling way to start a story. While we've not seen an 11-year-old Kirito before, we're pretty sure he's never moonlighted as a woodcutter before. In fact, the whole vibe of the area is one absent electricity or anything else we might envision as a modern convenience. Like I said above, it's like AU—taking a character we know and love and placing them in a context removed from the norm, something only a fanfic writer could cook up, you know? Of course, within the context of the series, we can try to make some assumptions: This is a VRMMO world because every major SAO arc has taken place in one. Even within this prologue we can see seams that hint at game world constraints in play. And yet, Kirito's day-to-day is trying to chop down a tree. This is NOT the sort of RPG environment that should appeal to someone who has the VRMMO background he does. (Counterpoint: Maybe this is the EXACT sort of gaming experience one craves with the sort of VRMMO background he has, lol.) Nor does he seem cognizant of this being any kind of simulation or game or anything BUT the world he grew up in and knows. If a stranger walked through the woods, to that tree he's chopping, and told him about the Kirito we know and love—Asuna, his sister, all his accomplishments—he'd think that guy bonkers. So maybe this Kirito is, to an extent, not our Kirito. Shared name? Yeah. Shared likeness? Sure. Someone whose paths will cross with the "real" Kirito? Probably. But not Kirito. Something interesting happens, though. By the end of the prologue I had stopped caring. The story author Reki Kawahara was craft was compelling enough that I was willing to accept the weird AU-vibe, the unanswered questions. (Luckily, it doesn't take too much of the second prologue to answer and contextualize a lot of that.)
Vol. 9 tackles some big, interesting questions, not just about the implications of highly detailed virtual worlds, but about what it is that makes a human truly human. It does this in a way that we see the questions through the worlds, the characters, the decisions. It gets too didactic at times, using dialogue to bruskly serve as a thesis, and sometimes our protagonist lags behind the reader's understanding—someone who should be smarter than we on on these kinds of topics—to a degree that's frustrating. Yet basking in the aftermath, I remember the way the narrative nudges these things, not so much the bluntness.
And good god is there some great prose in here. I'm not sure how much of that to attribute to Kawahara, and how much to the translator, Stephen Paul, but there's some goddamn wonderful turns of phrases and well-conveyed ideas in v.9. Here's some of my favorites:
"The thought that I’m seeing your heart beating just…sends me on a little trip, I guess…” (Asuna, explaining why she has a widget on her phone that displays Kirito's vitals. But how perfectly is "just sends me on a little trip" phrased? Simple, yes, but we innately connect to it because we understand that sometimes, in matters of love, it's the little things that get us through the day.)
'“I’m sorry for losing control.”
“N-no…it’s fine. I think you should cry when you need to,” I said, a pretty weak excuse at consolation, but as Selka wasn’t spoiled by the ever-present entertainment media of twenty-first-century Japan, she smiled and took it to heart.' (Dialogue between Kirito and Selka which highlights something surprisingly profound about how, in all likelihood, being bombarded with narrative media has made honest, simple reactions feel trite or cliche. It makes us cynical of anything that doesn't sound fresh, unique, new. But we're just fucking people, you know? We can't be on-the-spot verbal Shakespeares.)
"With the pain-absorbing functions of the NerveGear and AmuSphere, I lived such a sheltered experience that wounds in battle meant nothing more than a loss of abstract HP. If pain like this existed in Aincrad, I would never have left the Town of Beginnings." (Kirito doing self-reflection. Wow, ok, so this does something so perfect at this point in the narrative. It's one thing for him to talk about "pain absorbing" features and his relatively pain-free real life, it's another to so acutely delineate that into such an intense analogy that makes perfect sense within his history and so vividly shows how different his life would have been with the pain factor.)
"In fact, it produced the illusion that the tree was not falling on top of us but that the ground was tilting forward. Such was the unreality of the sight of a thirteen-foot-wide tree giving in to gravity and toppling over." (What a fucking mental image, holy shit.)
I'll stop there. Honestly, I waffled between 4 and 5 stars. There are some really key flaws here (not all of which I even outlined above), yet so stellar are the high points that I can't convince myself that the flaws matter at all.