Warning: Spoilers ahead

What makes anime and manga special? What makes the world weird and wonderful? Exciting and engaging, off-putting and outlandish, divisive and deliciously entertaining? Have you ever seen something completely ridiculous? Have you ever been completely invested in an unfolding event? Have you ever understood that the completely ridiculous and the utterly gripping are not mutually exclusive, but so often intimately tied together? If your answer to any of those things was no, watch a good anime, read a good manga, and I think you’ll understand. Take a moment, find a comfortable seat, get ready, and read SANDA. Read SANDA, and you’ll understand. From when I first started watching anime, when I went on bizarre adventures, watched monsters get defeated in a single punch or was awestruck by the grandeur of Neo Tokyo, I felt drawn towards the worlds that were unfolding before me. There was something about it all, the way that the outlandish felt so grounded, that the weird and wonderful danced together. We may be taken in by stories that are familiar to us, that exist in our world and operate by our logic. Certainly, it seems so often that stories like this are assigned a kind of seriousness, one that is held in high esteem, as though that raises it above the likes of lesser work. But what I always loved about anime and manga was how the serious and the silly could work together. 

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     All fictional works require a certain level of suspension of disbelief. We know that what’s happening isn’t real, that it’s a story. Even the most grounded, realistic stories are just that: Stories. I’ve always thought that, if it’s all fictional anyway, why not have some fun with it. Esper's with unimaginable psychic power, spiritual embodiments of the soul, all these things spark the imagination. They push us to reimagine the world, take us on paths away from the familiar, and wow us with the world reconstructed, show us details that we might otherwise never have seen. But it is people that always bring us back. Even when the characters aren’t human, we still relate to life. To struggle, to desire, to the need to become what we aren’t, and to run away from what we are. It is to me, the combination of these two things, when they work together in tandem, complimenting one another, that makes good anime and manga. And it is my great pleasure to say that SANDA is a phenomenal example of this. It is a piece of fiction that will stay with me long after I am done writing this, and one I am more than happy to gush about, as I am about to now. 

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     There is something about Christmas, that once in a year time that feels so different to the rest of the days we spend on this Earth. I might not describe it as magical, but for me at least, it feels like there’s something in the air. Like the world changes just a little bit. Colours come out that aren’t usually around, sounds and smells creep in that feel familiar and fresh all at once. But that alone isn’t it. Life changes hue, as if we all collectively agree that the tone has changed. Different songs dominate our ears, and unique smells and tastes greet us. But the sounds and smells don’t just change, perspectives do as well.

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     This may all seem a little obvious, but I think that we may often take for granted the transformative effect that something so small and so significant as this annual festival has on our lives. For many of us, Christmas is the most biggest celebration of the year, and with that comes a change to the daily rhythm that we all move in. Seeing things a certain way seems possible, our behaviour lifts or falls, and we acknowledge that this time is special, if for no other reason than that we want it to be, that we want a change. The world of SANDA is Christmas. It is that change in the air, that difference in perspective. It is being submerged in the otherworld of the holidays. But not temporarily, rather it is as though one were to be drawn into a snow globe, peer in and see that the featureless figures are not as they seem, that they are as full and interesting as you and me, and that their story is unravelling before our eyes.  

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     I say all this to emphasise the fact that Paru Itagaki has accomplished a fantastic feat of worldbuilding, and that the atmosphere of the manga permeates into every scene, lays a kind of magic spell on us the reader, one that we may not notice, but the effect of which is felt regardless. From the detail of the Sanda’s small boys dormitory, cramped but full of personal affects, to the amusing but significant small whiteboard warning of wild chihuahuas, to the fact that Itagaki took the time to make full designs of each and every one of the Middle school class 2-3, each detail breathes life into the stories world. Such a feeling of purpose is a testament to the kind of passion that went into the work, and it leaves a reading experience that will have you checking every panel, appreciating every little bit, enjoying the kinds of things you might have otherwise skipped over.

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     For all the details however, there is still an oppressive air of mystery. SANDA takes place in a world where children are protected, almost suffocatingly so. Teachers are subordinate to students, and the whole school in which the story takes place is in fact a reconverted shopping mall. What led to this state of affairs? Why are the seasons all out of whack? Just how dire is the state of the world? All this and more are the kinds of things that will keep you hooked, pulled along the line of the story, desperate for more. But who exactly are we being pulled along with? (Warning story spoilers ahead). 

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     SANDA opens up on the titular character, it also opens up on the girl who is trying to stab him. It must be said that I absolutely adore Sanda, if for no other reason than that I find him to be unrelentingly adorable. A baby-faced boy with just about as much maturity as that kind of look might imply. Sanda is about the stereotype of what a 14-year-old might be: Fickly obsessed with his looks, concerned more with his love life than his education, and more than a little bit insecure. There is something rather oddly endearing about his character, far from the image of a stoic, all action protagonist, Sanda is someone being pulled in two directions. On the one hand is the allure of youth, blissful ignorance and a life of relative leisure, on the other, is the responsibility of Santa Claus.

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     Little is revealed about how or why Sanda can transform into the character of festive folklore, and certainly the idea of the character reimagined isn’t exactly new, but Itagaki does a fantastic job of breathing fresh flavour into the concept. From the evocative design to the ever-growing list of unique powers, to the ways in which Sanda and Santa play off each other, two personalities that are at once notably distinct and yet still seated in the same drivers seat. Where Sanda ends and Santa begins is unclear, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. Youthful innocence is forced aside, and the weight of the world creeps slowly forward, and yet there is still always time for a little silliness. But what (or who) exactly is it that is pulling Sanda into all of this? 

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     It is at this point that I should admit to doing just a little bit of fibbing (sorry Santa), or rather, I should say that I am pointing that blame just a little bit at the Mangaka. I say this, because I am convinced that it is not Sanda who is the true protagonist of SANDA, but Shiori Fuyumura. From the very first page of the manga, Fuyumura is a force. She may seem unpredictable, but she is anything but. She is coldly determined, willing to do whatever it takes, and has a burning fire within her, one that drives her on relentlessly forward, chasing the ever-fleeting shadow of the girl that she loves. And the friendship between her and Ichie Ono, whether romantic or not (although I’m hoping for the former) is the beating and bleeding heart that thumps beneath the plot, pushing Fuyumura forward. Towards a goal that she must believe is there, even if the world continues to tell her it’s not. For the sake of Ono, she must believe.

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     With such a powerful presence, I felt that Sanda was someone simply caught up in her story, even if he was the focal character. But such is life. We’re often caught up in our own narrow viewpoints, often blinded to the fullness of those around us. As the plot unravels, and other characters begin to creep in: Hitoshi Amaya, initial enemy and eventual friend, self-described flamboyant pretty boy, with a baker's heart of gold, although admittedly a little hidden. Hifumi Oshibu, elderly principal with a heart that yearns for youth, obsessed with preserving said youth at all costs, even if it involves stripping away all agency from the children he swears to value. With each introduction, it becomes ever clearer that the world is much bigger than Sanda and Fuyumura, that their fight will become increasingly muddied by outside forces and the twists and turns of fate. But faith persists. So many of us still look forward to Christmas each year, so many of us still find joy in Santa Claus. Even in a world that is lost, it only takes the belief of a few to find the way. 

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     Before I go, I would be remiss not to mention the artwork that makes the manga. Paru Itagaki is best known for the work Beastars, and that iconic style is something that shines through in this work also. Learning this fact wouldn’t surprise me in the least: The bulging eyes, the stances and postures, the pointed teeth and wide mouths. The characters feel animalistic in a striking way, their design is at once anthropomorphic and yet deeply human, the right features are magnified, and yet they differ just enough to create a sense of what feels almost alien. At the start of this review, I had mentioned the weird and wonderful, later the change in perspective that Christmas brings. We are so often adjusted to what we believe ‘normal’ is: How interactions are supposed to go, how our lives are supposed to be lived, what looks right and what doesn’t. I love pieces of media like SANDA, because they remind us that life can exist so much bigger than we often allow it to be. People can be eccentric, the world can be mysterious, scenarios can go from serious to silly in the blink of an eye, and the people we hold dear are always worth holding onto as tight as we can. SANDA is a wonderful read; it is everything that I think a good manga or anime should be. I’m lucky to have read it, if I’ve at all convinced you, I hope you do the same.