Warning: Minor spoilers below.

We’ve all been there before. You enjoyed it, but it didn’t change your life. It pulled you in, but you were able to pull yourself back out. However, it came back to you. In some cases, slowly and surely, over weeks or maybe months, coming up on the fringes of your mind like a stubborn weed that you couldn’t stamp out entirely. Something about it touched you in a way that you couldn’t truly escape. For me, Hyouka was that thing. And it’s not because I thought it was a bad series – in reality, quite the opposite. But the most significant thing about the series for me was what it did for me after. You know what I’m talking about – you finish the show one weekend and then every single day of work next week, it filters up through your subconscious into the pseudo-aware area some like to call limbo. In between conference calls, the last visual comes to your mind. As you scroll through the next excel sheet, one or two snippets of their conversation pushes to the tip of your tongue. And God forbid, as you try to get some real work done the OP ripples across your ears one more time. Push it aside or embrace it fully, it’s still there. But why?

As usual, let’s move to the categories. First of all, I’m going to talk about the animation. This show was produced in 2012 by Kyoto Animation and directed by Takemoto (RIP) in collaboration with Gatoh, Naoko and other members of the studio. Takemoto is credited as director of both the Kyoani FMP adaptations and as replacement director of Lucky Star, as well as roles on some ONAs and even Haruhi. However, his most significant work, in my humble opinion, was his work on Suzumiya Haruhi no Shoushitsu, a film so outstanding I can’t even talk about here. However, context is important for my discussion of Hyouka’s animation and art. This series was produced close to a decade ago and is absolutely one of the most beautiful works of animation I’ve ever seen. While watching the series, I constantly forgot how long it’s been since this show actually aired – it has, in my opinion, stood the test of the eight years since its release, and its art is far superior to almost every single more modern anime I’ve seen. This, of course, it’s just because the animation is consistent and fluid, the art detailed and memorable, or the color vibrant and pointed. It is, of course, all these things. One of my favorite single moments in the entire series is the short cut of shoes by the doorstop, which takes up no more than a few frames of the OP. But it’s so much more, because the animation and art very much tells the story. We’ll get into this more later, but rest assured that nowhere is this anime lacking in this department and perhaps is the best I’ve seen so far.

Because I alluded to it earlier, I’ll jump right into it again here. The soundtrack of this show is also very good – not to the same level as the art and animation, however. The first OP is definetely the best part of the entire show’s soundtrack, and while the second OP is certainly less memorable, it doesn’t disappoint. I think, however, the best thing about the openings is the way that they combine with the background animation to set the tone for the show. I feel like so many modern anime use the OP as an opportunity to show off clips that merely expose the characters, while Hyouka uses them to subtly build the show’s motifs. Hyouka is a slice of life – that’s a statement I’d adamant about. Sure, it includes aspects of other genres, but the writers keep within the SOL genre and their OPs are a testament to that fact. Both EDs are weaker and a little more detached, particularly the former of the two, but are nonetheless solid aspects of the show’s score. The rest of the BGM, while a bit more typical, is nonetheless a bigger contributor than detractor, which is hard to say about some other shows’ soundtracks. Overall, however, the soundtrack sets the stage of the show, a topic that’s harder to describe until we get into what this show is really about.

So, then, I’ve claimed that Hyouka is a slice of life. What’s it about? MAL lists the genres as “Mystery, School, Slice of Life.” When reading through the exiting MAL reviews of this show, I’m somewhat surprised to find so many people focus almost entirely on the first category and push the latter two aside. It’s also interesting to me is that so much of this show’s criticisms fall within a certain perception of how the mystery genre should be adapted. I, however, resonate far strongly with the latter two categories. Hyouka, perhaps moreso than any other show I’ve seen, portrays a slice-of-life in believable way that I found truly a joy to watch and think about, even learn from in some cases. I’d categorize Hyouka as being much more about people and storytelling than it is about mysteries and problem-solving. Why is that? It’s because of the characterization and the character dynamics, two aspects I infallibly find most significant about any anime, and it’s what I’m going to talk about next.

Sometimes, it’s easy for me to decide which of the major characters to talk about first. Here it’s been a little harder, but I feel like that logical decision is Fukube. Satoshi has the unique distinction of being one of the only male characters in anime that I’ve actually liked – not just admired or appreciated, but actually liked because of the way he’s portrayed. He has the strange power of being a knowledgeable person – the “database,” as he calls himself – without being pedantic or annoying. His contribution to the group is, as all other leads’, portrayed in his unique approach to creating hypotheses, which is centered around the collection and execution of data. While so many other male leads fall into the dichotomy of either stoic and brooding or sarcastic and careless, Satoshi is neither of those. He’s actively involved in the things and people he cares about, and is constantly seen applying his vast knowledge of minutiae to achieve the group’s goals. But he never lords his knowledge over them – I mean, even he admits that drawing conclusions isn’t his strong point. However, more than anything else, Satoshi is believable. Think of it – didn’t we all have a Satoshi we knew at one point or another? For me, it’s my brother – pedantic knowledge of so many different things, recalled at opportune times, but very much just like any other kid. I’ll get more to his moments later, but I think believability is the most significant thing to conclude with now.

It’s probably next best to move on to Ibara, who I was somewhat disappointed to see described as in one review as a typical tsundere. I’ll admit that this trope was one I was sometimes tempted to apply to Mayaka, but for me it was obvious from the beginning that this element is just a small aspect of her character. Mayaka is the kid who seems serious and consistent from the outside. She’s not a disagreeable person, however, and uses focus to pull together disparate elements. Fukube brings the data, Mayaka the critical eye. It’s hard for me to call her strictly an analyzer, but it’s very easy for me to see her role on the mystery-solving panel. Where her character really started to become really meaningful to me was akin to when your friends start to discover that you have your own passions outside of school. Her role as club manga connoisseur is particularly interesting once you look it in light of how it influences her life and those around her. Yes, Hyouka is about the Classic Lit Club, but the Manga Club – and Mayaka’s involvement with it, along with her interactions with its members – also plays a surprisingly impactful role in the series. Shared focus is an interesting element of Ibara’s character, and it’s the juxtaposition between this and the Hyouka-side of the show that makes you look at the show a little differently than another banal slice-of-life. I’d go so far to say that she’s perhaps the most realistic of the four members of the classic lit club – anyone who has been through any sort of high school knows what it means to balance interactions with different groups of people. In this way, and perhaps in a similar fashion to that of Fukube, her believability really added to my view of this series. Again, I’m dying to get into why, but I’ve got two other main characters to talk about first.

At first I wanted to reverse the order of the final two, but I actually think that Oreki would be best positioned here. For me, and judging by the reviews, many others, Houtarou is the face of Hyouka. Now, interestingly enough, I think that placing a lot of stock into his energy-saving view of life is actually kind of misleading. Yes, Houtarou is very much a unique character. It would be very easy to say that he simply doesn’t care about anything, but I think that would be very incorrect. Houtarou, by his own admission, avoids doing anything that’s unnecessary. I think so many people read this show as being about how Houtarou moves away from this mentality and ultimately becomes someone who becomes curious about the superfluous. However, I’d much rather say that Hyouka is about how Houtarou starts to realize how more and more things are not as unnecessary as he first thought. I think that it’s way more interesting to read his character development as learning how to ascribe value in a meaningful way – spurred first of all by his sister, and subsequently by his friends in the Classic Lit club. I think I do need to address that he may seem, at first, a victim of a ubiquitous anime trope. Yes, Houtarou is exceptionally good at solving mysteries, and, more than anyone else in the group, seems to come to the correct conclusion more often than not. But a closer look reveals that it isn’t the mystery solving that drives his character development, at least in none of the show’s major arcs. It’s the methodology, his interactions with the other members of the group, and the way in which his previously long-held values are challenged and shifted that really captivated my attention on his character development. Now while he’s less-so than Fukube and Ibara, I’d also classify Oreki as very believable. Why? Applying the same exercise as before, it’s really not hard for me to think of people I’ve run across who may outwardly seem disinterested but in reality possess unique acuity and passion for certain tasks. And if you think about it, really nothing separates Oreki from any normal kid is a slightly lowly disposition towards doing things and slightly higher proficiency when it comes to solving simple curiosities.

Finally, I’ll turn to Chitanda. In typical Kyoani fashion, two of the leads are shown, at first blush, as absolute foils of each other. Eru is Houtarou’s opposite in many ways. Her interest – not just in her club, but also in so many other aspects of life – is a really stark contrast to his desire to push interesting things aside. What I appreciated most about her character, however, was how the writers avoided the oh-so-tempting trap of making her curiosity the defining part of who she is. Eru isn’t an interesting character because she’s curious about a lot of things, she is an interesting character because of why she’s curious about said things. In a way, Eru is a vessel to some of the reasons why I find the show so uniquely moving, even beautiful – it’s her curiosity, aligned with her uncle’s words, that reveals the meaning behind the show’s namesake and provides a shockingly poignant look into the club and school’s history. It’s her curiosity about the amateur film that spurs a deeper look into narrative bias and hidden meanings. I’d even say that it’s her curiosity that leads to the resolution of the Juumonji incident and a redemption of past hurts, but in the interest of spoilers I can’t go much further. But there’s other aspects of her character that I find exceptionally compelling as well – her need to switch from her home life, one stuck very much in tradition and practice, to a life in a club that encourages looking outside the walls. It’s harder for me to assign believability to Chitanda than it is the other three, but only a bit. I actually think that her place as slightly less realistic actually allow those elements in the others, and that’s not a bad thing.

Okay, so I’ve talked about art, music and character, what does this all mean about the plot and themes? I’ll just jump straight to the chase. Hyouka is very much about narration. It’s almost as if the writers from Haruhi decided to revisit one of that show’s most important motifs and make it the centerpiece of another “slice-of-life” a few years later. Everything, and I mean absolutely everything, in Hyouka focuses around narration and the role that it plays in developing a plot. How about a concrete example? Sure. Let’s take episode 2 as an example. The club is in the library, where the question of a consistently-borrowed book rises to mind. Let’s assume, for a moment, that the mystery itself isn’t exactly important. What do we see in the animation itself as the mystery progresses? We get a lot of views – of the library desks, of the shelves, and of other things, but most significantly of Oreki’s explanations as presents the two options. What, in simplest terms, is consistent about these scenes? Yes, the color. Browns – and other muted, earthy tones, are most present here. Yes, it’s subtle, but once you know to look for it, it couldn’t be more obvious. And what do we see the very instant the mystery is solved? Someone’s eye, after which the conversation departs from the browns, into a mixed-greenish hallway as Oreki explains it, and finally out into the light where the rose-colored eyes shine with amazement as realization strikes. And trust me, it’s not just this scene. While this is one of the most obvious instances, it’s not hard to see parallels in others. Here, the narrator is using the colors, the lighting and the art to draw you along with the Classic Lit Club through the confusion of the mystery and into a radiant resolution.

This is one of the major things that captivated me about this series. Admit it – the mysteries are nothing spectacular. They’re interesting mostly, clever sometimes, keep your attention focused on something, and can be fun to solve alongside the characters. But let’s be honest here – Oreki tends only slightly more insightful than the other three, and it’s not exactly a stretch of the imagination to see any perceptive high schooler solving these problems to his friends’ amazement. But they’re not the point. The point is how the narration draws you through them and influences the way you draw your own conclusions, whether conclusions or subconsciously. As soon as you become attuned to what the narrator tries to make you think and believe, things go from a curious and entertaining Slice of Life to something that’s way beyond. I’d say the narration elements are made really obvious and much more accessible to the casual viewer here than they are in the predecessor, Haruhi, but are nonetheless quite rewarding when you realize they’re there. Again, I’m trying to keep this spoiler-free, but if you want more concrete examples just go watch the resolution of the Hyouka arc or particularly the final scene in the last episode (which, by the way, has to be one of my favorites). And I’d go so far to say that this absolutely isn’t just a weird fan-theory or esoteric way of viewing this show – I mean, just look at Satoshi’s comment to Fukube about shades of grey and a rosy-life. Sure, this is a pretty obvious reference, but it stands alone as an explicit reminder of how important the visual narration of the show is. The characters literally comment on it – we as viewers should pay attention.

I talked about believability later, and I’d like to circle back to that now. This show is uniquely fun because I believe it. I believe that a details-obsessed data fan can find it scary, even foreboding, to feel like he is losing a sense of who he is and what he cares about. I believe that someone can become so passionate about the comics they read and the people behind them that they’ll shed tears. I believe that someone can grow unexpectedly to value things they hadn’t before in a way that makes them express emotion they didn’t think possible. I believe that it’s possible for one to alter their life, even in the most outwardly-minor way, to connect with something deeper and more beautiful. In a lot of ways, I resonate differently with each of these characters in the same way that I’d resonate with different people if only I knew more about how they think. But the question wraps back around to the narration. Who is talking? What story do they want to tell? What are they curious about? Like any anime, Hyouka will distract you from answering this question by throwing other data, events and relationships at you. But stay focused to the goal. Solve your mystery.

For bonus points (and yes, I want you to PM me about this), tell me why we don’t see Tomoe’s face.