Have you met Kitaro? He's the eternal boy born in a graveyard to a dead mother, the last member of his Ghost tribe. His father, Medama Oyaji (Eyeball Dad) helps his son, riding around in Kitaro's empty eye socket or on top of his head. They say that Kitaro will help humans in need, especially if they're struggling with a yokai problem, and the clack of his geta is often accompanied by the “ge ge ge” song of the frogs and insects sung in his praise.

This volume of Kitaro is a second edition of the one Drawn & Quarterly originally released in 2013, and for fans of the franchise – and especially the 2018-2020 anime adaptation – it's a treat to see back in print. It's a curated collection of stories from 1965 and 1966, arguably the heyday of the manga series, and it contains several pieces of note, including two that were adapted in that recent anime series: “Ghost Train” and “The Great Yokai War.” The latter, a multi-chapter storyline that originally ran from April to May of 1966, formed the overarching plot of the 2018 anime adaptation, and many of the characters from that show up here in Mizuki's original forms. That means that the young witch and most of the female yokai aren't present, but it's easy (and interesting) to see how this original informed its update.

One striking similarity is the idea of war and invasion. In the manga, we can see that the Vietnam War was one of Mizuki's influences, and the issue is that the western yokai who take over (or attempt to take over) an Asian island are there without regard for the island's original inhabitants and culture. There's a strong flavor of colonialism, and ties to World War Two are also plainly evident, both in “The Great Yokai War” and in the other multi-chapter story, “Creature from the Deep,” which ran from May-July of 1966. In this piece, Kitaro is asked to go on a scientific mission to a remote island in New Guinea, where the goal is to study a specific yokai, the Zeuglodon. This hairy whale beast's blood is said to grant immortality, and the scientists are keen to get some to experiment with. Dr. Yamada, a young, ambitious scientist, objects to Kitaro's presence on the mission, clearly seeing yokai as lesser beings and worried that the famous boy will somehow rob him of his own glory. When the mission goes horribly awry and Kitaro is infected with something that forces him to transform into a zeuglodon, Yamada keeps the information to himself. The result is that the transformed Kitaro, unable to make himself understood, returns to Japan on his own, where he is mistaken for an attacking kaiju. The government's response? Atomic bombs.

Both of these stories show Mizuki using the themes of war bringing no good in different but equally striking ways. The western monsters in “The Great Yokai War” are attempting to take over foreign soil to build their own paradise, and their reaction to the island's indigenous people is simply to kill them for their land. The Japanese government in “Creature from the Deep” is quick to treat the transformed Kitaro as a major threat, egged on by Dr. Yamada, speaking to the overreaction and rush to use the most dangerous weapons immediately, regardless of the risk to bystanders. Both stories utilize an “us versus them” mentality as a way to show that violence is never the answer, as well as the constant theme that Kitaro intervenes in situations because he's much harder to kill; after his zeuglodon form is irradiated, one of his yokai friends comments that Kitaro can just pee out the radiation, something that isn't an option for others. A supernatural solution is found to end the Yokai War, amusingly one that relies on Irish folklore, but the looming possibility that one might not exist for the next one is there – and indeed “Creature from the Deep” ran following “The Great Yokai War” to drive that point home.

Zack Davisson, in his informative introductory essay, notes that two of the pieces in this collection are in fact retellings (or reworkings) of two twentieth century pulp stories. “The Hand” is based on W. F. Harvey's 1919 story The Beast with Five Fingers (also a 1946 film starring Peter Lorre), while “Monster Night Game” is based on Al Feldstein and Jack Davis' 1953 horror comic “Foul Play,” which was printed in EC's Haunt of Fear #19. (It was reprinted in Dark Horse's Choke Gasp! EC horror anthology in 2019 for the curious.) Both adaptations are fascinating reworkings of the originals, and in the case of “Monster Night Game,” the changes result in a much lighter tale, although one that's still recognizably based on Feldstein and Davis' story. More importantly, the inclusion of these two stories alongside the war tales show the breadth of Mizuki's inspirations and speak to the universality of the Kitaro stories. He may be a Japanese creation based in Japanese folklore, but Mizuki uses him in a way that lets readers experience the idea that myth and its attendant genres (fantasy and horror) are things that exist all over the world, and with some very striking similarities no matter where you're from.

If there was one issue with the selection of stories, it would be that many of the characters we associate with Kitaro's adventures are not present. Nezumi Otoko (Rat Man) is in a couple of stories, doing his usual trick of playing both sides against the middle, and Sunakake Baba (Sand Witch), Ittan Momen (Rollo Cloth), Nurikabe (Wally Wall), and Konnaki Jiji (Old Man Crybaby) all appear in “The Great Yokai War.” Notably missing, however, is Neko Musume (Cat Girl/Chick), which is a shame, and none of the Nezumi Otoko appearances really lean into his grosser or sillier side. Still, this is a solid collection, and one that was well worth the reprint. Kitaro may not have the following in the U.S. that he does in Japan, but his story is both an important one in the history of manga and a strong work that anyone who enjoys comics should read.