So there’s this series about a junior-high-school girl, exceptionally lovely, very mature for her age, a top student, and seemingly perfect in every way, but possessed of an earth-shattering secret that isolates her from her peers. Her decidedly ordinary older brother accidentally discovers his sister’s secret—she’s not just a massively devoted fan of the sugar-sweet cutest and girliest cartoon there is, but also deeply obsessed with erotic video games where sisters and brothers, get—y’know—intimate. Eeek! And ick. And WTF? It would be easy to glance at this premise and assume all manner of dark and forbidden things, and quickly turn away, reassuring yourself that you’re not into that stuff. Sure, plenty of people are, but you’re not one of them. You’re wholesome, right?
Make no assumptions when it comes to Oreimo (short for Ore no imouto ga konnani kawaii wake ga nai, or “I can’t believe my little sister is this cute”), because the story isn’t what it seems to be at all. I mean, it is: the beautiful Kirino really is gorgeous, accomplished, and popular, and she really is into X-rated eroge, and her brother Kyousuke really does stumble (literally) onto her secret. But this is all merely the gift-wrap on one of the smartest, funniest, and most genuinely heartwarming series I have ever read.
Kyousuke believes that Kirino hates his guts; she’s always been cold, distant, and downright nasty to him, and he has mostly just tried to stay out of her way. But the discovery of Kirino’s kids’ cartoon and sexy game fandom engenders a sudden, strange, ever-shifting bond between siblings as Kyousuke finally begins to understand his sister, and why she’s so stuck up and awful; and Kirino desperately reaches out to him as the first person who might just be on her side, even if he doesn’t even begin to understand her hobbies. When Kirino finally does meet other fans, she’s got a long way to go before she can accept them and accept herself as being like them, but Kyousuke will do whatever it takes to make it happen, even when it gets annoying and embarrassing. But somehow, despite everything, he believes in her.
For those readers who ever despaired at the idea of being able to be friends with a sibling—those random people living with us in our childhood home, taking up the bathroom at the worst times, and embarrassing us in front of our friends—Oreimo is a wonderfully nuanced and hilariously funny response. In this ordinary modern world of high school and video games, uncomprehending parents, and the overwhelming pain of loneliness, I found myself not just rooting for Kirino and Kyousuke to form a bond, not just as siblings, but as true friends and emotional supporters, but to—hope against hope—stop fighting and hug it out already. Oreimo isn’t so much about taboos as it is about exploring those taboos without judgment, and how the judgment sometimes drives people apart when they should actually love and accept one another.
By the way, Kirino thinks her actual brother is gross, and would never think about him that way in a million years.
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