First Impressions of Princess Jellyfish by Akiko Higashimura (Vol. 1): Funny, Feel-Good and Fabulous

What's it about?

'Tsukimi Kurashita has a strange fascination with jellyfish. She’s loved them from a young age and has carried that love with her to her new life in the big city of Tokyo. There, she resides in Amamizukan, a safe haven for girl geeks who regularly gush over a range of things from trains to Japanese dolls. However, a chance meeting at a pet shop has Tsukimi crossing paths with one of the things that the residents of Amamizukan have been desperately trying to avoid – a beautiful and fashionable woman! But there’s much more to this woman than her trendy clothes! This odd encounter is only the beginning of a new and unexpected path for Tsukimi and her friends.' [Kindle edition blurb]

Things I loved

I'm a sucker for slice-of-life josei manga geared towards an older female audience – they're such unicorns! – so the premise of this and its quirkily charming art style immediately appealed to me. 

I was also impressed by its focus on an often overlooked group – female otaku ('fujoshi' or, as they call themselves, 'amars') – from a refreshingly sympathetic female perspective. Rather than simply presenting female otaku as token nerdy side characters, Higashimura spotlights the everyday challenges of the socially awkward fujoshi, like approaching strangers (especially men) and navigating a bustling metropolis with an anxiety disorder.

'Rather than simply presenting female otaku as token nerdy side characters, Higashimura spotlights the everyday challenges of the socially awkward fujoshi.'

This is tackled with humour, but some of the details hit surprisingly close to home – like how Tsukimi regrets not planning her trip to the aquarium on a weekday to avoid the crowds after suffering a panic attack. There are other reminders of the kinds of prejudices the group faces on a daily basis amid the zaniness, too, like how the amars are treated dismissively by others and viewed with contempt and even revulsion.

And, while the marriage of opposites trope is a common one, I enjoyed the clashing of personalities in the confident, cavalier Kuranosuke and the withdrawn, awkward Tsukimi. I've always been drawn to unconventional characters, and the sudden arrival of a dazzling, rebellious personality who challenges Tsukimi to leave the comforting confines of her mundane existence is a simple but fun twist that offers the right dose of wish fulfilment.

There are layers here, too, and the book encourages you to take a closer look at each character. Kuranosuke is introduced as a beautiful 'princess' with a seemingly perfect existence but is in fact a cross-dressing man shirking the conventional life that awaits him in politics in favour of his ambition to work in fashion. Tsukimi, meanwhile, could easily follow a typical ugly duckling arc, especially after Kuranosuke transforms her with a makeover; but, as fun as it is to see her transformation, I was pleasantly surprised when she is instead recognised as being most beautiful while in her element – surrounded by jellyfish in an aquarium – and therefore able to be the most herself. 

Things I didn't love

How prejudiced the tenants of Amamizukan are! They not only fear men and stylish, attractive people but loathe them to a ludicrous degree, too. This is mostly played for comedic effect, but some of the tenants – such as Chieko, the manager of Amamizukan – can be genuinely unpleasant to outsiders. Their reasons for this are possibly explored more – or even challenged – in further volumes, but they're not touched on here. 

The amars are also presented in quite caricaturish ways, both behaviourally and visually. While this can be genuinely funny, like Mejiro, the socially phobic and nocturnal yaoi manga writer, communicating solely through notes passed under her door or Tsukimi adopting the foetal position when threatened, it does mean we don't get to know much about the other amars beyond their respective obsessions. Again, this is perhaps something that will hopefully be developed in further volumes – a single volume can only establish so much, of course.

The tendency towards wacky hijinks also means some more real-life concerns are glossed over, giving this more of a shōjo feel than a josei one. We know Tsukimi has come to the city to work as an illustrator but, like the other amars, receives money from a parent (her dad). Has she struggled to find work or avoided it altogether? The addition of this contextual information – one of the key dilemmas of young adulthood – and insight into her goals and struggles could have informed Tsukimi's character further and made her even more relatable.

I also arched an eyebrow at a couple of parts, like when Kuranosuke asks Tsukimi if she's a virgin because of her enthusiasm for jellyfish or when he insists he's not a drag queen, just someone who likes women's fashion, and is therefore 'normal'. He also thinks all women want to be pretty, though it's unclear if this is down to his initially limited perspective or the manga's actual stance. But as far as dated manga/anime gender representations go, these are relatively tame slip-ups. 

Was it well-paced?

As I enjoy slice of life more than wacky adventures, I admittedly had to push past the zany antics of the amars at the start to get to the meat of the plot and character development. I was rewarded for this with the introduction of a compelling new character and a succession of well-paced and compelling turns – each chapter is brimming with humour and energy, reveals something important about the characters and gives you a reason to read on. Coupled with the typically short length of a standard manga volume, this was an easy, breezy read. 

What surprised me the most

Many of the tropes on display here will be familiar to any seasoned manga or anime fan, but there are clever little twists to each one, revealing surprising depth; I can think of several gender-bending manga/anime characters, but few who are the main love interest. And, while Tsukimi is horrified to find Kuranosuke is a man, this seems to derive primarily from her deep-seated fear of men rather than any prejudice against cross-dressing. 

Kuranosuke's gender fluidity is also more than just an opportunity for cheap titillation and is instead a medium through which he takes control of his destiny; he challenges Tsukimi's – and the reader's – perception of what a 'princess' is, showing that each individual can create their own personal power. As Kuranosuke proclaims, 'All girls are princesses from the moment they're born.'

Another welcome surprise is that Tsukimi's transformation into a beautiful 'princess' isn't presented as a simple solution to her issues. While she is, of course, super cute after she sheds her glasses and is subjected to a style overhaul, she fundamentally doesn't believe she is like the princesses of the world. She also resists the makeovers, questioning why girls need to be pretty at all, but Kuranosuke demonstrates that there's more to being a princess than looking pretty – at its core, the manga is about Tsukimi overcoming her self-limiting beliefs and discovering her inner beauty by finding conviction in her voice.

'There's more to being a princess than being pretty -- at its core, the manga is about Tsukimi overcoming her self-limiting beliefs and discovering her inner beauty by finding conviction in her voice.'

I loved the twist that this is what Kuranosuke finds most attractive about Tsukimi, too (which contrasts with Shu falling hopelessly, and hilariously, in love with a fantasy based on her appearance).

Which moments stood out to me

There are lots of great moments – Higashimura is skilled at depicting awkward, humorous situations – but highlights included a hilarious scene where Tsukimi is so thunderstruck by the revelation that Kuranosuke has come just to see her that her soul leaves the solar system entirely. And then there's the stunned look on Shu's face when Tsukimi wafts out of the room post-makeover, only for him to immediately faceplant violently into the door.

There are also a couple of sweet scenes I loved, like when Shu notices Tsukimi from afar without recognising her and gives her a small warm smile, making her feel some sort of way (and instantly ruins the moment by reflecting on his disgust at the amars and their building). And, of course, when Kuranosuke feels an unexpected pang of jealousy when he happens upon Shu embracing a tearful Tsukimi, elevating his interest in her from a jewel to be polished to something more complex.

So... will I read any of the other volumes in the series?

This had been on my to-read list for a while, and my main hesitation in picking it up was that it looked a little wackier than my usual picks, but the first volume has won me over with its humour, charm and heart. Seventeen volumes in total feels like a reasonable length, so I'm definitely intrigued to read more – especially to see wallflower Tsukimi blossom and the progression of the love triangle between Tsukimi, Kuranosuke and Shu (because who doesn't love a good love triangle?).

There's also a mysterious family drama subplot involving Kuranosuke's missing mother that has piqued my curiosity – given Kuranosuke is the black sheep of his stuffy, politically focused family, he no doubt inherited his fabulousness from her, so I'm compelled to find out more about her (and her wardrobe).

I would recommend this manga for...

Anyone seeking a fun, feel-good romantic shōjo/josei manga with a dash of style and a fresh take on gender identity.

If this tickled your fancy, you can find Vol. 1 of Princess Jellyfish on Kindle and comiXology here.

If you liked this, please consider fuelling my next post by slinging a cup of coffee my way.

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