Recollections: A Youthful Dream - Reflections on Nakano, Collecting, and More

 

(An excerpt from Norinette Poem, written and illustrated by the fudanshi mangaka Takeru Wakaba in early to mid 1982 for Norinetto - For Sleepless Nights, joint volues 4 & 5. Published by The Evil Women's Publishing Bureau on December 26th of 1982 for Comiket 22, Wakaba's works give creedence to early depictions of Charmuro during the height of the Gundam compilation films as well as 0079 two years post its broadcast. Acquired from a bookshop in Nakano, personal collection. One of the many finds on my trip.)

Last month, I drifted into Japan and met Tosaku once again chasing the ghost of a very specific and deeply sentimental dream. While I had graduated college with another degree notched into my belt, I met Tosaku in Tokyo with jet-lagged eyes and my carry-on bags. Tosaku provided me with two large cloth shopping bags and, after a spot of would-be lunch cum dinner, we got to business. This made for my third buying trip to Japan to source all sorts of things, namely books for the ever growing archive, but I knew this trip would be particularly special for a variety of reasons.

Armed with little more than a list of addresses I personally gathered and the kind of manic optimism that only overtakes me when I'm with Tosaku, I didn't know that I was about to see and touch history in a way that I never have before. I can't really separate my morays as an archivist in not saying that I don't go about collecting books - I seldom part with them physically, but I wanted this trip to be a lot different than the one I took in 2024 to see Yoshikazu Yasuhiko's exhibition. 

Back then, I was traveling with my business partner and had a madcap time fighting an onset illness, nerves and a changing landscape that was actually highly confrontational for foreigners - the yen was at an all time low, and unfortunately, Western travelers were making things bad for everyone else. I was also just now getting into procuring texts and merchandise for the archive and had experienced the bastion of what M was and still is to me. 

However, I don't find myself to be as green behind the ears as I once was. I've learned a lot since then, and in reality, the political and social climate of Japan has once again changed. Political fluctuations and the bolstering of tourist presences in Japan have made a unique striation. There was certainly something in the air that was suggested to me weeks before I came, and at Tosaku's behest, our first stop was a cathedral to Otaku-dom itself: Nakano Broadway.

(photo used for reference only.)

In my opinion, if Akihabara is a neon carnival of sorts and a bit overhyped in the Western ideal of what is intrinsically 'Japan', Nakano Broadway is where everyone comes to hunt. I was surrounded by other well-to-do degenerates, both old and young, of all orders, and was happy to run across people who embraced their own sense of style and taste authentically. While some spots are very much well to do and ephemerally a boutique environment, others are packed with the scent of yellowing paper, old plastic, and decades worth of obsessive fan behavior. Every floor and cranny is a labyrinth of memory in some capacity. 

At several locales, you can openly wander from a glass case of vintage sofubi to a shelf of obscure cels and, before your nervous system has time to recover, stumble into another branch of the luxury resale market that is ever strong. I perused all manners of vintage fashion - I scored a Chanel J12 watch for only $80 USD and managed to grab other designer goods that, while aged, were nearly mint. Nakano offers everything in between, but in reality, I was there for books. 

The biggest annal of this trip was heading to Mandarake's eponymous mausoleum of a shop. While I've done mail order via Mandarake's Nakano shop, going there felt both under and overwhelming in a variety of ways. Mandarake is less of a store than it is a fever dream organized by category. Endless aisles of art books, doujinshi, out-of-print manga, and relics from the Showa period were there, but much to my dismay, I unfortunately didn't find anything of immediate value. 

I spoke to an attendant about works and what I was looking for, and after being taken to a variety of isles, I left emptyhanded. Tosaku told me that the guests at Mandarake were oftentimes rude to him and other local Japanese people, whereas I unfortunately experienced it first hand. I was implicitly pushed and had to mildly square up with a German tourist, for instance, when trying to navigate the racks on a weekday. 

Post Mandarake, which didn't prove to be as fruitful as I thought, we headed to a variety of used book stops in the area. Tosaku moved through the stacks with the calm confidence of a local guide, while I followed behind him like a deranged bloodhound catching the scent of mimeograph ink. We raided secondhand bookstores tucked into the arteries of Nakano Broadway, flipping through brittle pages, examining obscure fanzines, and pulling forgotten volumes from shelves where they had slumbered undisturbed, some for years apparently. One shop owner simply pawned off several volumes of Gekiga comics onto us because they wanted to make room, while others found it curious that a black femme was asking about fanclub books. I had my shopping bags full in no time, but I knew there'd be more ahead. Surprisingly, the most I paid for any singular item was $50 USD, around 8,000 JPY, for a set of six Year 24 works from 1977 to 1978. 

(An nth of the haul, which is still being sorted. At the end of my trip, I had over 600 books.)

Every so often one of us would whisper, “Look at this.” or “Look at that! ” - there'd be something so seemingly impossible priced for little to nothing. Not everything came cheaply, however, and while haggling isn't always encouraged, I did manage to consolidate the price on a few art pieces. With scalping at an all time high, we deviated from spaces that wouldn't produce much. At our hotel, we sorted everything in our own hoards and re-packed everything on our way to Hyogo. There, we stayed with Tosaku's family - his load lightened as did mine temporarily, as we headed back to more used bookshops that I missed on my last trip.

Our first stop was at Books Carbo, a shop located in the ⁠Tsurukabuto neighborhood of the Nada Ward. While not a typical bookshop with an obvious store front as its run out of an apartment building, Tosaku's old friend works his own business via this location on several online sites. I was able to pick up some things with Tosaku's presence and paid directly and acquired several works that will be up in the coming months post scanning projects for Mad Angler Press. Nothing was over 1000 JPY and I was even offered an opportunity to ride the Rokko Cable Shita, which I kindly declined. Motomachi proved to be abundant once again, and thankfully, I scored a variety of Gundam texts there. 

I was able to meet M on the last few days of my trip, who welcomed Tosaku this time about. Collectors of this caliber operate in a different dimension. They are custodians, in my personal opinion, of civilizations. M welcomed us into his home with his usual understated generosity and led us to shelves lined with carefully preserved magazines, fanzines, and privately printed books that I didn't even know existed. Over the years, he has thinned down his massive collection, years worth of hobby and Comiket involvement under his belt, and has sold of a variety of things. His storage, which I'd helped him sort via both Discord and Zoom call, has since been cleared out to the basics he intends to pass on to his sons. 

With that noted, he did have new things for me to see, among these items being more Osamu Tezuka fanzines and more. I'd parted with other works he'd given to me months back to an old friend, who will take care of them for a long while, but as it stands, M was quite proud to note that he'd met even more young people locally who were interested in what he had to say. I'd mentioned to him how our transcribed interviews about fandom culture and its morays had gone over when it was published here, and he was surprised that anyone would have even cared. 

Tosaku and I left Hyogo, our bags were heavier and our minds thoroughly blown over and over. I carried on my flight and in my checked luggage not just paper, but evidence, physical testimony that some of the most important cultural revolutions begin with fans hunched over drawing tables, convinced that what they love deserves to be transformed. Japan had once again revealed itself as a country where miracles are quietly stacked on shelves, waiting for the right obsessive to come along and recognize them. I can't wait to see what else comes about!