Bizenghast Is Freakishly Fantastical Fun

The surreal cover art of Bizenghast volume 1. Tokyopop

Every now and then, I have an experience most other readers have had at least once: I come across something that makes me do a double-take in the middle of the bookstore. Something that, while seemingly uninteresting at first glance, makes me question the reality of what I thought I saw within that fraction of a second and arouses my interest to find out more.

The cover art for Bizenghast, written and illustrated by M. Alice LeGrow, fits that description to a tee.

I discovered Bizenghast sometime during my late middle school or early high school years. Being that I was a moody teenage girl and an artist with the imagination to match, the image of a girl playing her cello, which also happened to be her body, instantly won me over. I was so stunned by just how different it was in comparison to other manga series I had read to that point, from the art style to it being designed for left-to-right reading (a true rarity in the manga industry—LeGrow is American). I even loaned the first volume to my father, who, despite not being very enthused at first, seemed to enjoy it at least half as much as I did.

Bizenghast follows the tale of Dinah, a vulnerable orphan girl who moves to the fictional town of Bizenghast, Massachusetts, following the tragic car accident that took the lives of her parents. Along with her new friend and love interest, Vincent, she discovers a crypt of lost souls who are hopelessly tied to the mortal realm and must be freed (or else Dinah will die, of course). Dinah and Vincent encounter many monsters and malicious spirits, each one more horrific—both in appearance and in nature—than the last. As the story progresses, however, Dinah must also match wits with herself; as her mental state slowly worsens with every soul she frees from their personal purgatory, it becomes a question whether or not she can be freed from her own.

I personally love this story line above those of most other manga I’ve come across because it’s a unique one in almost every way. It’s a weirdly wondrous take on the horror genre with a colorful cast of characters that can keep even casual readers entertained.

If the concept of a young girl suffering from psychological delusions being forced to release the souls of the damned doesn’t intrigue and/or creep you out by itself, the manga’s signature art style certainly will. Although the characters do feature the unnaturally big eyes and willowy body figures we’ve come to expect from manga characters, LeGrow adds plenty of elements of the uncanny valley and even—dare I say it—realism to her characters, which make them appear more surreal and, consequently, much more unsettling to look at than most series. It’s because of this that Bizenghast stands out amongst the other manga Tokyopop has to offer, but it is also its major detriment; while we’re often told not to judge a book by its cover, the surreal imagery on the covers of Bizenghast might just be enough to frighten some potential readers off. On the other hand, that’s just as well. If those people can’t make it past the cover, there’s no chance they’ll be able to stomach the delirium, monsters, and terror that this series dishes out in heaps.

I’m not the only person who loved this enchantingly twisted series, which ended in 2012. Readers have given it generally high ratings on platforms like Goodreads and Amazon, and IGN labeled it a must-have. Not to mention the fact that the end of every issue features page after page of fan art submitted to LeGrow from the series’ many loyal fans.

It’s not the ideal read for everyone, but if your initial reaction to the cover is “ooh” instead of “eww,” then Bizenghast might just tickle your fancy.