Forest of Gray City begins with a meet-cute scene as precious as anything in a Nora Ephron movie. Yun-Ook Jang, a twenty-something illustrator, is single and broke. To pay off her credit card bills, she posts an ad: roommate wanted. No one seems interested in her spare room until Bum-Moo Lee, an aloof, handsome, and impeccably dressed slacker shows up at her door. She pleads with him to take the room. He accepts. There’s just one problem: Yun-Ook is tipsy and tearful when Bum-Moo arrives, and fails to recognize him as the young barkeep she rudely dressed down while drinking with gal pals. When she sobers up, the misunderstandings and innuendos begin piling up like dirty dishes in a kitchen sink. What saves Forest of Gray City from terminal chick flick cuteness is Yun-Ook. Unlike the typical romantic comedy heroine, Yun-Ook isn’t just a collection of quirks and mannerisms. (She loves Edith Piaf! And knows all the lines in Now, Voyager! And talks to dogs!) Instead, she has honest-to-goodness personality traits: she’s impetuous, insecure, and quick to take offense, but she’s also focused on her career, protective of Bum-Moo, and determined not to sacrifice her sense of self just to land a husband. Bum-Moo, on the other hand, remains a cipher for much of volume one. But given his age—we learn that he’s only 17—and his lack of direction—he’s a high school drop out—that seems appropriate, and helps explain why Yun-Ook rebuffs his casual come-on, “Is it OK to have a crush on you?”
The other redeeming feature of Forest of Gray City is the quiet, relaxed presentation of the story. Jung-Hyun Uhm relies on close-ups and body language instead of idle chatter to suggest her characters’ feelings. Midway through volume one, for example, there’s a lovely sequence in which Bum-Moo consoles his drunken, agitated roommate. Yun-Ook–who has just returned from a close friend’s wedding–is feeling unsettled and lonely, masking her anxiety with the defensive assertion that “Marriage isn’t the goal in life!” Bum-Moo offers no words of wisdom or soothing comments, just a glass of water and an arm to lean on. He sits with Yun-Ook until she falls asleep, then retreats to his own room looking dazed and wounded. It isn’t a profound moment, but it’s an honest one, and the kind of scene I wish I found in more manga.
Speaking of Uhm’s artwork, I think it’s both a strength and a weakness of this series. Bum-Moo and Yun-Ook are unnaturally long and slender with pretty faces, giraffe-like necks, and sparkling eyes. The backgrounds, too, leave something to be desired. In some scenes, the lack of detail is effective—Yun-Ook’s apartment looks like my very first studio, complete with rickety, self-assembled furniture and a cramped living room. In others scenes, the backdrops look unfinished or hastily drawn. Some die-hard manga lovers will view these deficiencies as proof that manwha isn’t worth their time and money. That’s too bad, because Forest of Gray City offers something that’s missing from a lot of nicer-looking shojo and josei titles: a strong, plausible heroine with real problems and real aspirations and no special powers at her disposal. Unless you count the ability to dazzle younger men with your talent, ambition, and good looks.