Attack on Titan is a name we’ve all heard or read at least once in recent years. It’s a phenomenon that extends far beyond the sometimes restricted confines of Japanese animation. A veritable popular tidal wave, Hajime Isayama’s work has embraced more than 100 million viewers and readers, and reached the minds of people who usually have little interest in Japanese manga. When I discovered this story, I fell squarely into this category. I had no particular intellectual contempt for this part of Japanese culture, but it’s true that I’ve always been apprehensive about discovering major stories adapted from manga, frightened by the length of some of the stories, which sometimes run into hundreds of episodes. Thanks to the insistence of a friend, who kept telling me that the story was to the point, and that the ins and outs were in the author’s head, I was reassured that I wouldn’t have to embark on an interminable epic. Then I discovered the tragedy of Eren Jaeger.
Whether in terms of its artistic flair, plot or direction, Attack on Titan is an outstanding work of art, which has quickly earned a place of choice in all pop culture circles. It’s no exaggeration to say that, alongside Game of Thrones, it’s one of the universes that has most fired the passions of the last decade. This success is not just the result of chance or the right alignment of the stars. It’s all down to Hajime Isayama and his mastery of narrative processes. While his drawing style will never be held in the same esteem as that of a Kentarō Miura, few writers can claim to know how to tell a story with as much talent as the native of Ōyama. What sets him apart is his ability to frequently distill clues from seemingly innocuous elements, when in fact they are crucial to how the narrative will unfold. The vast majority of them don’t seem to make much sense at the time of viewing, and only jump out at us when plot revelations are made. That’s why it’s so interesting to revisit the work, once we know the ins and outs, as everything fits together so perfectly. A good story needs its share of secrets, and the creator of Attack of the Titans understands this. That’s why he keeps us on the edge of our seats with a series of interwoven mysteries, keeping us in a constant state of tension as each resolution leads to further questions.
Attack on Titan is a ruthless tale that catches us off-guard by revealing its true stakes, as well as its main theme, just when we think we’re seeing the light at last. Discovering the world outside the walls, those who thought they were the last survivors of the human species learn that humanity has continued to prosper, and that it harbors a deep-seated hatred for the people of the walls. This is no longer a post-apocalyptic struggle against monstrous beings, but a profound reflection on the cycle of hatred and violence that has plagued the entire history of mankind. Isayama’s work draws clear parallels with the history of our world, giving the final battles a World War II aesthetic, while linking the experience endured by Eren’s people to the atrocities committed against European Jews in the 20th century. Starting with the simple tragedy of a child who loses his mother, the Japanese author takes us through the throes of a thousand-year-old war, fueled by resentment and an inability to dialogue. The story strives to show us that there is no such thing as absolute truth, and that everything is a matter of point of view. Humanity is scrutinized at its most beautiful and most decadent. One question remains on our lips: by giving ourselves heart and soul to his cause, don’t we run the risk of becoming slaves to our own freedom and perpetuating this endless cycle of hatred and resentment?
One child’s tragedy
Attack on Titan follows the fate of mankind, who, after being decimated by giant monsters, retreat to the safety of their last kingdom, protected by three great circular walls over fifty meters high. The last survivors of the human race now live in a rudimentary, medieval-looking way. On the brink of extinction, they are forced to remain entrenched in their fortified space. Beyond the walls, packs of bloodthirsty giants roam the vast territories of the surrounding regions. Humanity is locked out, condemned to a precarious form of captivity, deprived of its freedom. The first episode immerses us in this reality from the point of view of Eren Jaeger, a young boy who lives in the Shiganshina district with his family and best friends, Mikasa Ackerman and Armin Arlert. He’s a dreamy child, eager to explore the outside world, whose curiosity has been aroused by the fables of Armin, who constantly reads to him from a book that tells of the wilderness that makes up the entire planet. For young Jaeger, life inside the walls is the equivalent of living like cattle patiently awaiting their turn to be led to the slaughterhouse. He is convinced that it is his destiny to set foot on the vast expanses of sand and ice described in his comrade’s book.
Unfortunately, these dreams of adventure are swept away early on in the work, as a titan nearly sixty meters tall, to be nicknamed the Colossal, manages to breach Shiganshina’s perimeter wall. He is accompanied by a titan of more modest stature, but whose skin appears to be covered in armour, earning him the nickname of the Armored from the human authorities. Their unexplained attack puts an end to a century of respite for mankind. Hordes of titans storm the neighborhood, engaging in a veritable bloodbath. Young Eren witnesses the death of his mother, who is devoured before his very eyes by one of these giants with a carnivorous smile. Like other local residents, the boy is forced to flee to another fortified area. The dreamy, innocent boy gives way to a traumatized being consumed by hatred. He is driven by a single desire: to eradicate the titans from the face of the earth. After several years as a refugee, he joins the army with his two friends and a host of other teenagers. Isayama’s work uses certain codes of Shonen, a genre that often requires us to experience stories through the prism of very young individuals, to confront us with the concept of child soldiers. In a way, the whole story of the manga appropriates Paul Valery’s quotation in its own way.
