Tuesday, September 22, 2026

Uzumaki by: Junji Ito translated by: Yuji Oniki

 

“Spiral into horror” is the tagline printed on the cover of Junji Ito’s Uzumaki, a three-volume manga collected about the isolated town of Kurouzu-cho and its slow destruction.  Structurally, it’s an odd story to read.  The last third or so is an explicitly connected narrative, essentially one connected story after two thirds of the novel has been short horror stories set in Kurouzu-cho, usually ending with the subject of the horror dying in a way that is related to the shape of a spiral.  Ito’s use of the spiral throughout Uzumaki is to represent the existential horror of living in an uncaring society and universe.  Kurouzu-cho is an isolated town, far from the metropolitan centers of Japan, full of uncaring adults who will push away any sense of community and children who learn far too early to emulate their parents.  The ending of Uzumaki is nihilistic to the extreme, the protagonists lose and the town falls into the spiral at the center of the town.  Protagonists Kirie and Shuichi give up any chance of getting out and become formless parts of the spiral, the town folding in on itself before the narration indicates that this has happened before and will happen again.  It cannot be changed.  It cannot be stopped.  The spiral will return.  There is no hope.  Included in the back of the volume is a deleted chapter where the horror is explicitly cosmic, the spiral of the galaxy.  Uzumaki is nihilist in the extreme, life is full of pain and then you die, your entire world going with you.  The ending leaves the reader empty, ultimately the horror cannot be explained.  This is cosmic horror where the cosmic horror comes directly from the Earth and those around them.  The beginning of the story is a standard, if well written horror story of a family becoming obsessed with a spiral before it drives them to mutilation and suicide.  It’s psychological and creates a mission statement for Uzumaki while standing on its own as a complete story.

 

As is typical for manga, Ito is writing, drawing, and lettering Uzumaki, however the lettering is redone for the English edition with the translation coming from Yuji Oniki.  The translation does indicate the style is quite clipped, dialogue and narration is quite clipped.  There is this sense that the characters are being continually cut off, adding to the isolating effect of the horror.  Ito’s strongest suit is the art.  Uzumaki is a tale of body horror, the spiral becoming the symbol of twisting the human form into something inhuman.  There are two particular installments of the series that bring the body horror to its most gruesome.  First is “The Snail”, the tale of a boy who only comes to school when it rains, before not coming all together.  He gets slower, more hunched over, before transforming into a giant snail.  It’s one of the simpler pieces of horror, though becoming a snail seems to spread and eventually plays into becoming a food source when the town is completely falling apart.  Ito masters the use of the still image, the horror in the chapter coming from very specifically avoiding the sue of motion in the art.  This is particularly tricky to pull off, the best art in this type of storytelling relies on implied motion that is absent here.  Second is “The Umbilical Cord” which plays upon the fears of childbirth and the reduction of women into being incubators for children.  There is also a parasitic fungus that represents the spiral and the perversion of the children, taking certain visual cues from Village of the Damned and Rosemary’s Baby for inspiration.

 

Overall, Junji Ito’s horror is the horror in the pointlessness.  There is an underlying sense of isolation being what kills, the outsiders are subjected to the terror before the universe peels back what makes people exist.  Uzumaki excels at body horror because the story’s depth comes from simplicity.  The intention is to leave the reader with this pit of hopelessness as a warning for the cycles of terror that befall humanity.  And in that deep despair the reader has to reach inside themselves to find some sort of hope and that’s what makes it beautiful, but only as a complete picture.  9/10.

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