A Drifting Life - Yoshihiro Tatsumi
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A Drifting Life is more than an autobiographical manga: it’s an essential testimony on the history of manga itself. Yoshihiro Tatsumi recounts his life—and the evolution of an art form—in a Japan undergoing post-war reconstruction, marked by poverty, occupation, and the emergence of a new graphic sensibility: gekiga.
The story spans nearly fifteen years, from 1945 to 1960, following Tatsumi’s alter ego, Hiroshi Katsumi—a young boy fascinated by manga since childhood. Through his eyes, we witness the birth of an artistic vocation in a nation traumatized by defeat and American occupation. This Japan is far from romanticized: it’s a country in ruins, where artists draw in freezing rooms, starving, clinging to the hope of seeing their name in a magazine.
What stands out in A Drifting Life is its sincerity. Tatsumi seeks neither heroism nor embellishment. He reveals doubts, humiliations, sibling rivalries, betrayals by the market—but also moments of creative euphoria. He crosses paths with the founding figures of modern manga, most notably Osamu Tezuka, with whom he has a complex relationship filled with admiration, jealousy, and the visceral need to break free and invent a new graphic language: gekiga, a darker, more adult, more literary form of manga.
Tatsumi’s style is stripped-down, without flair. He doesn’t aim to charm—he documents. And in this rigor, in this almost austere honesty, lies a rare power. We understand what it meant to be a mangaka before it was even a recognized profession—just the dream of stubborn kids. We feel the weight of poverty, the solitude of drawing, the conflict between art and industry. And we grasp that behind every published page lie months of invisible struggle.
Reading A Drifting Life is reading an era. It’s reading a man who refuses to lie to himself. An author who saw manga evolve, helped shape it, and humbly retraces its foundational steps. It’s a historical fresco, but also a quiet love letter to creation—to those who draw in the shadows, to those who refuse compromise even when life tightens its grip.
This manga moved me deeply. It reminded me that art does not arise from nothing. It is born from sacrifice, frustration, books, conversations, and prolonged solitude. Tatsumi holds up a mirror: what does it mean to create when no one is waiting? And above all: how do we stay on course in a life that drifts? The true drama of the artist isn’t failure—it’s doubt. And in this drift, Tatsumi built something lasting, solid, and true.