GAEA-TIMA the Gigantis Vol 1 Review
/By Ashley Williams
Suppose the beast that destroyed your metropolis was its own mascot?
That sinister coincidence thunders through the core of GAEA-TIMA the Gigantis Vol. 1, an aggressive and introspective inaugural effort by KENT which reuses not simply kaiju conventions—it demolishes the society which invents them.
Ten years after the disastrous return of the title monster, the town that it devastated has turned trauma into tourism. Survivors such as Miyako now sell souvenirs of the creature that had upended their world. But when GAEA-TIMA returns—larger, weirder, and in some way more human than ever before—peace in the town is broken, and the psychic wounds hidden behind souvenir stands begin to resurface.
On initial impression, this may be nothing more than typical monster-fare: epic action combat, evil creation, human hysteria. And yes, KENT provides those thrills—there are city-burning sequences and the kind of blazing kind of chaos kaiju enthusiasts live for. But what makes this manga stand out is its tone. There's a catchily mixed tone of absurdist humor and actual pathos. GAEA-TIMA is not only a looming specter—it's also a joke, a regional appellation, a walking oxymoron. One moment it's strolling through forests of biblical fortitude, then it's loitering awkwardly behind a market stall like it's behind its own comic-con appearance.
That tension of the tones is readily prone to incoherence, yet KENT sustains it on the path to equilibrium. On paper, the manga is over-welteringly detailed—streamlined lines, expressive visages, and a retro-style kaiju form that's somehow extraterrestrial. Imagine Showa Godzilla reimagined in a postmodern, quasi-existential paradigm. GAEA-TIMA is grotesque, strangely melancholic, and sometimes even empathized with.
The book's best section, though, is its commentary. Instead of describing the monster as evil by nature, the novel dares readers to ask: what made this monster? And why do people so readily use the memory of disaster instead of facing it? Miyako's contained grief and determination lend the story emotional depth, grounding the spectacle in something familiar.
If it has one, it's that volume one sets up more than it can deliver. Backstory for GAEA-TIMA is half-crafted, and secondary characters are cardboard cutouts. But maybe this isn't a negative—by making us hungry for information, KENT makes the subsequent volume have real stakes.
Overall Verdict: 8.5/10
GAEA-TIMA the Gigantis is more than a kaiju manga—it's a clever deconstruction of memory, trauma, and monsters we construct out of them. Crusty artwork, absurd humor, and a poignant emotional center place it among the most innovative new developments in the genre. If giant monsters with a dash of existential horror and satire are your cup of tea, this one's a no-brainer.
