There has been manga. There has been Christian. But never before in the history of literature has there been a fusion of the two so scintillating, dynamic, and edifying as the series that I am about to review, as far as my humble talents can hope to describe it. Never before have urbane, debonair storytelling and radiant, inimitable manga been blended together in such exquisite perfection. This is manga. This is Christian. This is HolyChick.

Readers may initially be befuddled and perplexed by the radical new style utilized in the majestic manifestation of excellence that is HolyChick. This form of “manga” is actually an adaptation (or indeed, a suspension of normal standards in order to transcend the boundaries inherent in the medium) of an established method of storytelling called, in the most avant-garde of circles, “graphic novels.” The essence of the form, in so far as forms can be defined by a single essence, is to put pictures together with words and create some facsimile of the reality produced by our daily impressions. One can delve into fathomless epochs of meaning by connecting various anthropomorphic lines to the comprehensive texts adjacent to them, implying in some esoteric fashion that the represented character is uttering the proximal text, but this is advanced study and most readers will best assimilate the experience by staring in sheer awe.

In order to channel the reader into the proper state of disorientation, the work reads right to left (as opposed to left to right, or right to right). One might suspect that the English language would also be inverted in an equally bold move. But oh ho! Such is not the case, for it remains as we are accustomed to seeing. Thus the direction of the text runs iconoclastically to the path the reader’s eyes are inexorably drawn across, creating a disconcerting state of cognitive dissonance. Obviously, this is a metaphor for how Christians must stand contrary to the world and move in the opposite direction.

The art is of course a shining point of brilliance, so much so that a petty descriptor such as “art” is utterly shattered. Even on a mundane level, it would not be surprising if many a reader mistook HolyChick for a collection of photographs and great impressionist renderings of creation. At times photorealism is mixed with overstated or embellished physical characteristics, forcing the mind to re-conceive every perception of reality. For example, in an early page a perceptive reader may realize that HolyChick’s mouth is slightly larger than those of limited mortals. From the mouth come words, which of course will remind the reader of The Word, Jesus Christ. Thus a single panel has a representation of all the faith, demonstrating how the Word must dominate the faces of our lives, even if it reduces our eyes (our sinful pride) to mere lines.

The story is good.

Postmodern proto-atheistical deists, neo-platonist collectivists, and meta-Enlightenment splenetic pleonasts alike will be blessed by the clarity and depth of theological insight. The magnanimity of the text is such that any reader of any level or any cultural-historical background will be able to extract sententious (not to mention inspirational) messages. As documented above, each panel, each line, is a tightly-woven theological statement, dense with denotations for those who have the metaphysical fortitude to unveil them. Best of all, it is certain to instill Moral Values into any children who read the text or perhaps even come near it, though the compelling luminosity of the storytelling on even a cursory level is so enthralling that the two can be considered synonymous for all intents and purposes.

Astonishingly, throughout this wonder there are explicit insights into the workings of the author’s mind. These are tucked away between the panels, like hidden morsels of wisdom nestled in the tablecloth of the world. Here one’s understanding is best fortified by geometry (though my perspective also cites insights from the field of anthropology), as the geometrical rectangle is often used as a sign along a path, directing readers toward these esoteric allusions. Rectangles represent order, yet taken literally they are also composed of four walls, not coincidentally the very numerical indicator of the wall which the author breaks in revealing choice bits of her wisdom. But I must desist from this analysis and leave these tomes of untapped meaning for future generations more studied in Maabuology.

In some far distant and star scattered future, the noble and prosperous may house collections of HolyChick, each page enshrined with the others of its like. Prior to this apex of paradigm shifting, they are available to the bourgeoisie on the information superhighway, an opportunity that should not be forsaken, just as humans must not allow grace to slip through their fingers. Now that the pearl of great price has appeared, no measurable number of copies is sufficient. Buy, I beg of thee, buy, before thy soul is cast into hell!