Content warning: Brief discussion of sexual harassment, homophobia, fascism and neoliberal political figures.
Intro: Chattering Sparrows and Wild Pictures
All creation is, in essence, the process of combining two or more things into one. In both art and life, you will rarely find an exception to this rule; it is as though the very nature of the cosmos is a Hegelian synthesis in a constant cycle of deconstruction and renewal.
Some combinations, like custard and crumble or salt and caramel, serve as an inherent force for good. Others, such as custard and fish fingers, or Marmite and any surface that is not on the inside of a bin, are malevolent and serve to make the world worse by their very existence.
And there are others still, such as the amalgamation of a 400-some years old Chinese tactical tile game with Japanese picture books (which as a concept are arguably even older if you consider a 12th-century ink scroll featuring frolicking animals to be manga), have spawned an unholy number of titles serving an increasingly niche genre of fans.
From absurdist comedy to deeply psychological ruminations on the human condition and from zany moeblob dramas to cold yakuza thrillers, mahjong manga epitomises the full experience, history, and culture of the game it is based around. Pros who test their will against the chaotic whirlwind of luck and skill that is mahjong; gamblers hanging out furtively in the corners of seedy parlours; and former Prime Ministers of Japan - these and more are the actors on this four-player stage.
All the above are indisputable facts.
It is also a fact that I spent a large portion of quarantine reading most if not all of the Kindai Mahjong backlog that I could find translated into English and now, as ordained by my inner video essayist, I have to make a post talking all about them. This is that post.
