Remember the first time you ever ate an unfamiliar food that's since become a dietary staple? - for instance, in my case, sushi, pad Thai, or good authentic hummus or guacamole? Well, that's kind of how I feel having "discovered" manga: that "how can this have been in existence all that time without my having known it!" feeling. That "why, this is unlike anything else!" feeling.
This Azumanga Daioh 4-in-1 omnibus is a 750+-page volume that's thicker than a brick - sort of an Infinite Jest of manga. Thus, it's perhaps not the best for sickbed reading, as I did, hoisting it aloft with my trembling ailing wrists, but its sheer substance would make for a wonderful gift presentation! The omnibus format is also recommended because this manga series, like a couple good chipotle peppers packed in adobo, is characterized by a pleasantly cumulative warming-up effect. AD tells the story of a group of girlfriends (and their not-much-older but occasionally far more immature and messed-up teachers) traveling through their four years of high school in Tokyo. That is to say, the overall effect of accompanying the group on their scholastic journey, revisiting up to four times the significant annual happenings of their school year (various festivals, exam periods, sports events, school competitions, vacations and field trips), is greater than the sum of its parts.
However, this educative value runs very secondary to AD's primary goal of often quite "random" humor, as many reviewers have described. Make no mistake that this is far, far more goofy, Saved By the Bell-type stuff than the pseudo-gravity of 90210. Another reviewer compared it to Charles Schulz's classic comic Peanuts, and though this wouldn't have occurred to me, I agree: AD sorta resembles Peanuts in both style and tone. Stylistically, AD uses very short, four-panel comics that sometimes stand completely alone as anecdotes and sometimes link into longer stories or revisit and riff on recurring themes. (For instance, think about how Peanuts comics periodically return to stories like Charlie Brown attempting to kick the football, or Lucy endeavoring to distract/woo Schroeder at his piano). Likewise, both Peanuts and AD use very stripped-down line drawings to great emotionally expressive effect. (In this regard, manga are amazing, like emojis on steroids.)
Tonally, AD has a little bit of the philosophical and occasionally slightly dark undercurrent of Peanuts while remaining superficially light and entertaining: the sort of humor that flies under the radar of kids but that would be detected by adults, a type of intergenerational virtuosity that we take for granted today and that I think Schulz kind of pioneered. (I DO want to be clear that although quite wholesome - especially for manga - AD is still more mature/sophisticated in content than Peanuts; preview first if you're thinking of giving it to any preteen readers).
Also similarly to Peanuts, AD features a core cast of characters with specific defining personality traits, among whom you'll likely choose a favorite or two. For me, one favorite is Chiyo, a grade-skipping child genius who is aged just ten at the start of the series and who becomes equal parts mentee/pet, mentor, and peer of the group. Chiyo is ambitious, curious, smart, and kind, a peacekeeping and group-uniting "Linus"-type character, and also like a Charles Schulz character, avoids the sentimentality or annoying precociousness that would have been such an easy misstep.
My other favorite is the stoic Sakaki, described in the comic as the "strong, silent type" - a kind of Amazon with whom all the students are a bit infatuated. Tall, athletic, determined, and intelligent, Sakaki is refreshing because she's not portrayed as the "popular girl" or "mean girl" stereotype to which she could be reduced: she's aloof but not cold, just quiet, serious, and shunning of the spotlight. One of my favorite recurring gags is that the ostensibly unemotional Sakaki has a seemingly unlikely secret soft spot for animals, whether cuddly plush toys or actual pets, and pursues furry cuteness clandestinely and with warriorlike determination only to be thwarted repeatedly and in creative ways. She's particularly obsessed with felines, from the snuggly fictional toy Neco Coneco ("cat kitten") to the many feral kitties of her neighborhood streets, but unfortunately seems to have a built-in cat antagonizer/repeller (think of the bunny scene in Monty Python). She does eventually achieve several notable victories in bonding with some fluffy friends, and these make for great storylines.
Like all the manga I'm reading, I found this on a list of "feminist manga" (maybe in The Mary Sue, a great web source for comic info). And boy, does AD ever pass the Bechdel test. It's a group of high school girls who care about one another, their personal passions and interests, and their recreational and school endeavors, with really no major attention given to romance and dating. Lumberjanes is perhaps the closest contemporary American comic counterpart I can think of.
One final caveat: Do not skip the notes at the end of each volume, which explain cultural references as well as translation choices. From the notes, it seemed very clear to me that translating this manga involved deft science and artistry, figuring out a way to convey meanings not only of frequent popular and/or cultural references, but also of puns, malapropisms, homonyms, untranslatable words, and differences between regional dialects. Think of translating the deep wells of linguistic and cultural material tapped in cutaway humor references that appear in shows like Family Guy or The Simpsons (or the puns on Springfield's storefront signs).
Azumanga Daioh is one of my favorite manga so far and one I'd most likely recommend to curious readers, but even if you're not keen on reading it, consider this my attempt to capture some of the general uniqueness that generally makes manga so interesting!