Pre-adult years take the pliability of the adolescent brain to form a cast iron organ that is efficient in carrying out repeated tasks, but ineffectual in navigating untrained ones. This reference is not so much a commentary on Takako and Akiko’s maturation — although, it could be interpreted as such — but on Ichirou’s rigid demeanor and unruly temperament.

Hardened by a demanding work schedule and what the reader can only imagine as a stringent upbringing, Ichirou is an exemplar of the common idiom, “you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.” Hence, his transference of corporate incentivization techniques does not coalesce with the sensibilities of the female cohort in the house. Yet this does not deter him from prodding into his daughters’ affairs to the point of imperiousness; causing Takako, the youngest daughter, to resent her father via verbal antagonism. And it is the catalyst of the tyrannical father — combined with the absent father/mother — that served as the impetus for all of the abhorrence that took place in this dysfunctional, family tale.

The downward spiral begins with Akikio, the eldest sister, being drugged and raped by an assemblage of various misfits and outcasts. The vile, self-anointed leader of this gang, Kakuma, not only violates the two sisters ad nauseam, but uses one of his cronies, Imada, to take numerous pictures for the purposes of blackmail. Naoki Yamamoto, the mangaka of Arigatou, did not write the character of Kakuma with the intention of having the reader empathize with him; to the contrary, Kakuma is a rotten individual that is loathsome and disgusting in every respect; however he, much like the other characters in Arigatou, is the product of two derelict parents who failed in providing a nurturing influence and a disciplinary regimen to prevent such abhorrent behavior. Of course, an over-abundance of discipline can lead to the Suzuki family state of affairs: where the eldest daughter becomes a paranoid shut-in, and the youngest daughter runs away from home. Despite the manifold of ongoing psychological disturbances, however, Arigatou is largely a character driven comedy via the ridiculous, carte blanche antics of Ichirou, as he desperately attempts to pull his ever diverging family back together.

Interestingly enough, the amalgamation of wacky comedy with intense psycho-social issues is largely a success. Primarily because the disturbing tone of the initial chapters makes the reader appalled — and even nauseated — from the abject depravity each page brings, but when the tone suddenly shifts (seemingly, from nowhere), it comes as such a shock that the viewer has no choice but to burst out of their silence with a hearty chortle. But what began as a clever ploy to subvert the reader’s expectations and to keep them off kilter, quickly became derivative humor that was redundant on more than one occasion. In its totality, though, the comedy was a nice addition that seamlessly added layers of depth to the Suzuki family that made them feel all the more relatable.

Much like the comedy, when the plot hit its high-water mark (in the early to middle chapters), it was absolute brilliance, but the nadir left the reader yearning for something more substantial. Also, the subtle clues of someone potentially dying, and the drastic shift in tone in the final chapters made the ending quizzically inexplicable. It is not as though “happy endings” should be shunned, but the “spirit” of the story was melancholic through and through; featuring detestable acts that ranged from forced-sex to crooked cults, and even an incident where a dude got his dick cut off. So, to have such a peaceful resolution to all the tumultuous behavior, evaded the dysphoric ending that many readers were expecting.

Despite the relatively harsh criticisms this review levied, Arigatou is an essential read that contains a handful of truly great moments that will knock your socks off (possibly the rest of your clothes, too). But a few glaring issues — especially the subpar-to-average art style — left Arigatou unworthy of attaining the status of “great.” Despite this, the impression it leaves on the psyche is quite profound and will make the reader reconsider their own interpersonal relationships with their own family.

And for that: thank you, Mr. Yamamoto!