Curb your enthusiasm, Zetsubou-Sensei

Sayanora, Zetsubou-Sensei: The Power of Negative Thinking may not be as relentlessly intertextual as Ulysses, but this Japanese import is nearly as rich in puns, social commentary, pop-culture parody, and allusions to TV shows, novels, movies, and manga. (References to Strawberry 100% crop up throughout the text.) I can’t imagine adapting such a culturally specific text for Western audiences, yet the folks at Del Rey have made a game effort to do just that. Given the scope and complexity of the task, I think translator Joyce Aurino has produced an eminently readable script that captures the darkness and absurdity of Koji Kumeta’s original. I just wish it were, y’know, funnier.

The premise seems ripe with comic potential. High school teacher and profound pessimist Nozomu Itoshiki lands the gig from hell: an all-female class of stalkers, hikokimori, obsessive text-messagers, bossy perfectionists, panty-flashers, and perky optimists. Try as he might to escape his obligations, his students foil his repeated suicide attempts, compounding his sense of despair and driving him to more extreme, ridiculous measures.

Through a series of interconnected vignettes, we begin to grasp the true extent of Itoshiki’s negativity as well as the sheer nuttiness of his students. In “Zetsubou-Sensei Returns,” for example, Itoshiki instructs his students to complete a “Post Graduation Career Hope Survey” by listing the three dreams they’re least likely to realize, e.g. playing baseball for Yomiuri Giants, recording a best-selling pop album. His sour-spirited effort quickly backfires, however, when the school’s guidance counselor reads the responses and praises Itoshiki for encouraging his students to dream big. In “Before Me, There’s No One; Behind Me, There’s You,” Matoi Tsunetsuki, a.k.a. “super-love-obsessed stalker girl,” develops an unhealthy attachment to Itoshiki. Matoi pursues her teacher with steely determination, adopting his trademark yukata, building a shrine to him, and following him everywhere. The chapter ends with a brilliant stroke, as one of Matoi’s former love interests begins tailing her to find out who’s replaced him, only to discover a chain of stalkers trailing in Matoi and Itoshiki’s wake.

Unfortunately, many of the stories require too much editorial intervention to elicit real laughs, as Kumeta’s panels abound in the kind of small but important details that resist easy translation: brand name parodies, puns on famous literary works, misspelled words, and so forth. The story titles, too, require explanation; “Behind Me, There’s No One,” for example, is a riff on a poem by Kotaro Takamura, while “Beyond the Tunnel Was Whiteness” appropriates a line from Yasanuri Kuwabata’s Snow Country. Absent this rich network of cultural references, Kometa’s comedy loses some of its fizz, playing more like a mild satire of shojo manga conventions than a scathing commentary on contemporary Japan.

If the text sometimes disappoints, the artwork does not. Kumeta uses a stark palette with large patches of pure black and plenty of white space. His highly stylized character designs have a pleasing, geometric quality about them, as do the patterns in their clothing. Though his faces are the essence of simplicity just a few lines and two dark coals for eyes—Kumeta animates them with skill, registering the full gamut of emotions from anger to joy. His students are virtually interchangeable, save for their accessories and hairstyles: a black eye and a sling for the class masochist, blonde hair and strawberry-print underpants for the class exhibitionist. Again, Kumeta’s economy of form works beautifully, underscoring the extent to which Itoshiki views all of the girls in the same light: as nuisances.

I wish I liked Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei better, as I think Kumeta is a terrific artist with a fertile imagination. But it’s awfully hard to laugh when 70% of the jokes require footnotes. (If you disagree, try this exercise: watch an episode of Seinfeld, The Chapelle Show, or South Park with someone who’s new to the United States. Then try explaining why the jokes work. You’ll quickly realize the degree to which the creators rely on your knowledge of literature, politics, movies, and pop music for laughs.) I’m also a little uncomfortable with the way Kumeta depicts the female students, as he skates a thin line between poking fun at stock manga characters and portraying teenage girls as desperate, manipulative, boy-crazed hysterics. I wouldn’t go as far as to label the text misogynist—that term seems much too strong—but I would feel more at ease with the material if Kumeta’s cast was comprised of troublesome girls and boys—equal opportunity neurosis, if you will.

That said, I’m not ready to declare Zetsubou-Sensei a dud; I’m just not sure how invested I am in a series that requires its own set of cultural Cliff Notes to decode.

9 Responses to Curb your enthusiasm, Zetsubou-Sensei

  1. James Moar says:

    The class does get some identified male students later, but they don’t really have equal time. Pretty much everyone from the main character down to walk-ons can be described as desperate and hysterical, though, so I don’t think the characters’ negative features are intended to be strongly gender-linked.

    As for the cultural references as part of comedy…. well, I’m British and watch US sitcoms, so for me this is just going on to the hard stuff.

  2. Katherine Dacey says:


    Thanks for the intel about later volumes–I’m glad to know the bad behavior isn’t gender-linked!

    Like you, I have a soft spot for comedy from across the pond. I love the old Ealing Studios comedies, I adore Wallace and Grommit and Absolutely Fabulous, and vastly prefer the British version of The Office to its tepid American remake. But the gulf between America and Japan is a lot wider than the gulf between the US and Britain. I recognize the names of some corporations and novelists alluded to in Kumeta’s text, for example, but it’s not always obvious (to me, at least) why he’s referencing them. I spent a lot of time flipping between the text and the appendix in an effort to appreciate the richness of Kumeta’s satire.

    Your comments give me hope that I might enjoy future volumes, however, so I plan to pick up volume two when it’s released. Thanks again for the feedback!

    Cheers, Kate

  3. […] Blues) Ysabet Reinhardt MacFarlane on vol. 5 of Rosario x Vampire (Manga Life) Katherine Dacey on vol. 1 of Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei (Precocious Curmudgeon) Leroy Douresseaux on Stop Bullying Me (The Comic Book Bin) Snow Wildsmith […]

  4. […] Davis Welsh is pretty sure I need to speak Japanese to get the full sense of Sayanora, Zetsubou-Sensei: the Power of Negative Thinking. […]

  5. […] for a mi-ai (an interview between the prospective bride and groom in an arranged marriage). As with volume one, some of the humor transcends culture; you don’t need an intimate knowledge of Toson […]

  6. […] Translation of a Dense, Culturally-Specific Text: Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei: The Power of Negative Thinking (Del […]

  7. […] runs. Folks looking for something more cerebral might find the sixth volume of Koji Kumeta’s Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei: The Power of Negative Thinking (Del Rey) more to their liking. In this episode: Zetsubou-sensei diagnoses himself with Delusional […]

  8. […] this week is volume two of Sayonara, Zetsubou-Sensei (Del Rey). I had some reservations about the first volume, but plan to forge ahead to see if this culturally specific satire has something to offer an […]

%d bloggers like this: