Most major sources define the word “nerd” as being predominantly used pejoratively, and some definitions even say that nerd specifically refers to a person exhibiting social ineptitude, lack of style, and obsessive behavior. What's so funny about the word “nerd”, then, is how it's a term to aspire to in nerdy circles, one that represents a divide from the poor masses of humanity who go about normal existences without true fulfillment or purpose. One could call it a reclamation of the term nerd by the less socially ambitious, but it still represents mostly substandard qualities to everyone else. It becomes a cycle, where nerds embrace their nerdiness as a way of accepting themselves, which in turn prompts them to look down and distance themselves from the rest of humanity, which of course leads them to be seen as nerds. Is it such a negative thing though? As someone who obviously gets called a nerd a lot, I would say to leave it up to each person to take it as they will. To me the issue with the term is more the divide it creates rather than the qualities it implies. And as a show about nerds and their reclusive lives, Princess Jellyfish seems to take a similar stance, with the central focus of defending its characters while criticizing their self-imposed isolation.
If there were ever a group of nerds that represent this concept, it would be the crazy cast of girls called the Sisterhood in Princess Jellyfish, who choose to live in poverty, with bad food and worse clothing, all to spend their money and time on their individual obsessions while barring their doors to men and fashionable women for the sake of keeping their nerd paradise “clean”. One makes traditional dresses for dolls, while another knows everything about trains. There is a girl who obsesses over old men, a nocturnal manga writer, and a Three Kingdoms buff. How they chose these topics to devote their lives to is left unexplained, which is for the best; obsession starts from the most mundane experiences, or minor predispositions that arise while growing up. What is important is how these obsessions define their personalities, and while on one hand it seems like the typical anime trend of making each character comically distinct from one another for the sake of memorability, the girls of the Sisterhood are actually fairly alike when it comes to personality and the actions they take in the show. When we see them in stylish clothes and makeup, they look like normal 20 year old girls, neither astonishingly beautiful nor Lovecraftian. For them, nerdiness is a way of life that they have freely chosen to walk.
The key dynamic in the show for addressing these issues and more is the relationship between Tsukimi, a girl in the Sisterhood who is obsessed with jellyfish, and Kuranosuke, a stylish crossdresser who is stifled at home on account of being from an important political family. Tsukimi has fond memories of jellyfish in her childhood, as they remind her of her mother and the thought of being dressed in a jellyfish’s lace, like a princess. At present, her mother is dead and she dresses like a slob on a tight budget, continuing to draw jellyfish while making ends meet. When Kuranosuke enters the Amamiya-kan where the Sisterhood lives, he is an outsider. The Sisterhood is very close, and they work together to meet their living expenses so they can continue to enjoy being nerds in peace, rejecting all invaders. Even though they do not identify him as a male, which spells instant death, his sense of fashion makes him an instant target of suspicion, which especially deepens given how up-front and personal his interactions are. He asks questions about their employment and love lives, interrupts their weekly rituals, and criticizes their fashion senses, all of which fantastically enrage the girls. On top of that, Tsukimi discovers him to be a guy after he accidentally stays the night, a situation that petrifies her. His existence is fundamentally incompatible with them.
Except that he represents all the potential that they have as girls and experts of their fields, while they represent an escape from both the life of politics at home and the shallow beauty culture he is surrounded by as both a guy and a girl. They never quite resolve his conflicts of wanting to be a girl based on the terrible relationship between his parents, nor does the Sisterhood seem to do anything more for him than be an escape, and so in some sense the show is being one-sided about who benefits from the contact between nerds and normal people. On the other hand, the ultimate direction the show takes is revealing how obsessions like Tsukimi’s jellyfish can be expressed in the fashion industry through beautiful and innovative designs, which seems to indirectly give the Sisterhood a place in the real world where their nerdy, unique qualities become an asset to a somewhat stagnant culture. Then the show also decides to imply that nerds will never quite break out of their shells, except possibly at the promise of money, and some of that depth goes out the window, but alas.
The other thread that runs through everything is confused love, and how both Kuranosuke and Tsukimi seem to be struggling with their feelings for completely different reasons. For Tsukimi the target is Kuranosuke’s brother, who himself is a virgin with women issues stemming again from the relationship between his parents (his mother is different from Kuranosuke’s, but given that their dad was with both behind each other’s backs at the same time, both issues seem fairly warranted). The plot between the brother and a developer who wants to bulldoze the Amamiya-kan brings more emotional twists and screwball moments, which I will omit for the sake of brevity, and because I found it to be mostly unfulfilling and unnecessary. However I will say that Princess Jellyfish does a good job of portraying the confusion and reactions of both the brother and Tsukimi, and I would consider their love story to be the most interesting subplot of the show. Tsukimi never explicitly is shown to be in love, but upon being treated coldly by the brother or seeing a picture of him with another woman, she runs away from the truth, and even drinks herself to sleep, confused as to what emotion she is feeling. Coming from this nerdy girl who literally petrifies coming into contact with guys, it works.
Kuranosuke himself grows infatuated with Tsukimi, and his confusion stems from being thoroughly disinterested with love and women after being chased by beautiful girls all his life, only to find himself infatuated with a disinterested nerd. I must admit, dear readers, that I personally relate much less with this one, although I can certainly sympathize. With a nice interweaving of flashbacks about Kuranosuke’s mother with Kuranosuke’s thoughts about the past and his actions in the present, the issue seems less shallow than him just being tired of girls flocking to him, and seeing him develop past his traumas inadvertently feels very real. Again though, there is a distinct lack of resolution to the love itself, and while they become business partners who both use their unique talents to contribute to the world, it may have been better for him to have fallen for a different girl for the sake of not entangling too many thematic elements. The open-ended effect is fine, but it could have been better.
Alternatively, Princess Jellyfish could've been longer, and actually the only thing I really would have needed to make this show a great work would be another 11 episodes of the same quality. The writing is fairly standard, but it serves its purpose very well, and the topics and characters are engaging and fun. It is funny, and treats the unemployed generation of 20 and 30 year olds with a realism and maturity that goes beyond most shows. Most of all, the conclusion it comes to about the intersection of obsession, specialism, fashion, and personal motivation is fantastic, and a great way to bring about change to all the characters while keeping them fundamentally the same people. Their motivations are clear without needing to be explained, which speaks well of its portrayal of being a nerd, even if it goes overboard with its depiction at times. Most shows struggle by either being too long and not at all focused or trying to fit too much in and resolving nothing. While Princess Jellyfish is much closer to the latter, it feels focused and close to a solid resolution. Even the open ending would have been fairly optimal if there had been a few more subplots resolved. Possibly the most telling recommendation I will give the show is that despite being plot-centric, I can now take any episode at random with no context and enjoy watching these familiar characters go through their rapidly changing lives, laughing at how I see bits of myself in them.