The Fall 2022 Manga Guide

The Gay Who Turned Kaiju

What's It About? 

Bullied for being gay, teenager Takashi Arashiro wishes he could just be somebody else—but no one could predict he'd morph into a giant-headed sci-fi creature. Takashi's tumultuous emotions become the catalyst for personal and social exploration of the LGBTQ experience in this quirky, profound manga from prolific BL author Kazuki Minamoto.

The Gay Who Turned Kaiju has story and art by Kazuki Minamoto, with English translation by Leighann Harvey and lettering by Carolina Hernandez, and Yen Press will release its first volume both digitally and physically on November 22.


Content Warning: suicide ideation, bullying, sexual assault

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Is It Worth Reading?

Jean-Karlo Lemus

Rating:

Kaiju aren't just big monsters; they represent the evils that lie within the hearts of humanity. With a title like The Gay that Turned Kaiju, I expected a goofier story; what lies within is a much darker tale of prejudice, self-hatred, and bullying. The whole thing has Yasuda staring at everyone with that massive, wall-eyed kaiju head (kinda looks like a swollen King Ghidora head, it does), which only makes Yasuda's revelry that much shocking. It can be very addicting when you finally get to turn the tables on your oppressors, and this story does not flinch in letting Yasuda enjoy every bit of his soul-staining sins. There's a lot of great writing about colorism influencing prejudice but also how acceptance not only comes from without but also within.

This is a far darker story than I anticipated, but it's also a far stronger one than I anticipated. The big goofy kaiju heads may be silly, but the writing more than makes up for it. I strongly recommend this one, although it definitely needs a few trigger warnings at first for homophobia and bullying.

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MrAJCosplay

Rating:

The Gay Who Turned Kaiju sent me on a roller coaster of different emotions. The premise is incredibly bizarre and at times uncomfortable in no small part thanks to the framing and quirky sense of humor. There are some panel layouts and reaction shots that just sort of hang in a way that makes it hard for me to tell if I'm supposed to be laughing or mortified about what is being depicted. I was initially confused and off-put by what seemed to be a lack of any sense of direction, but by the time I reached the end of the volume, I ended up walking away with a different type of discomfort in the pit of my stomach – a sign that the emotional cord struck by The Gay Who Turned Kaiju is more real than the book's title could have ever suggested.

Kaiju are large, horrifying creatures that can cause unwanted destruction, but it's sad that we live in a world where gay and trans people are treated with a similar amount of repulsion. Is kindness only given because people don't know who we truly are deep down? So we hide that part of ourselves or desperately wish we were born “normal”, but could that end up doing more harm than good in the long run? These are the types of questions that this manga asks, and I do think the struggles portrayed here could even apply to anyone who has ever felt like they needed to hide a part of themselves to blend in. There are some leaps in logic in order to make the wackiness of the premise work, but this is also a book that right out the gate establishes dedication to theme and emotion rather than practicality. By the end, I think The Gay Who Turned Kaiju has earned the right to be as optimistic and cynical as it is, but you won't know that unless you read it for yourself, which I highly recommend.

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Rebecca Silverman

Rating:

I fully admit that the title of this one turned me right off – without knowing anything else about the book, it felt needlessly cruel, an Othering of someone who was already on the outside. As it turns out, that's precisely what it's about, although it isn't necessarily intended to be mean towards the title character; instead it's an extended metaphor for how protagonist Arashiro feels about himself. When he one day overhears his favorite teacher making homophobic comments to another teacher (with, disgustingly enough, approving statements about lesbians because “that's hot”), the already-bullied Arashiro makes a desperate wish to be something else…and the next thing he knows, he's got the head of a monster.

That's not because he actually IS a monster, but rather because that's how he sees himself. He was already in a bad position at his new school because his darker skin caught the eye (and the ire) of the “upper caste” students led by Naruse, something that has gone largely unnoticed by Kuroda-sensei, the teacher Arashiro so admired. But even they aren't painted as total monsters, just people who are thoughtless (Kuroda-sensei) or have something of their own that they're insecure about (Naruse). I admire the book for that; it would have been very easy to make everything black-and-white, but that's not what's going on here – even Arashiro's not all good, because his new kaiju head makes him act out in ways that he would never have thought to before.

With all of that said, there's still something deliberately uncomfortable about this book. It latches on to old insecurities and flawed coping mechanisms and runs with them, and that's not an easy ride. Arashiro was having issues before he got to his new high school, and Naruse seems to be dealing with similar ones that also make him see himself as Other in the worst way. The only person who is remotely in control is Sasaoka-sensei, the lone figure of sanity in the emotionally fragile world of the story…and she may just look that way because we haven't seen inside her head yet. As metaphors go, this is a decent one, although it definitely does go too far in a few scenes, such as when Arashiro gropes Kuroda-sensei out of hurt and fury. It's also the book most deserving of content warnings in this Guide, which doesn't make it bad – just something that you want to be very sure you're up for before picking it up.