The world is full of faces. They're everywhere, yet no one seems to notice…

Looking at Me has a story by Soshichi Tonari and art by Junji Ito. English translation is done by Jim Hubbert. Published by Viz Media (October 20, 2026).

Rebecca Silverman
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Picture books aren't always for kids. The most (in)famous of the “not for kiddies” bunch is Adam Mansbach's Go the Fuck to Sleep, but there are plenty of others, like Jill Murphy's tongue-in-cheek Five Minutes' Peace. Looking at Me falls somewhere in the middle – like Murphy's book it can be read by or with children, but adults stand to enjoy it more, not because it has a second meaning, but because it's damn scary. Or disturbing. Junji Ito does the illustrations, so it could be both or either.

The base conceit for the book is the concept of pareidolia, which is the word for seeing faces in inanimate objects. If you've ever thought a house looked like the windows were eyes and the door a mouth, you've experienced it; I used to look for faces in my curtains to fall asleep when I was little. It doesn't have to be scary. But for the nameless boy in the story, those faces aren't just present; they're actively staring at him – and he sees them everywhere. Ito's art shows faces in clouds, on benches, on stepping stones…almost every single surface the boy can see. His mother, thinking her child is just imaginative or being silly, doesn't respond well to his mention of them, a situation that brings about the chilling ending.

I want to be clear that while Ito's illustrations are a serious plus here, Soshichi Tonari's text is equally good. Their deceptively simple prose opens the door for the artwork, but also for readers to transpose his words onto the landscape around them. It's an encouragement to be like the boy in the book, to see faces all around you, before the final page makes the danger of that clear. I don't want to spoil it, but suffice it to say that the last line is remarkably effective.

Is this a picture book kids can enjoy? If you know the child you're reading it to or with very well, maybe. I do know a couple of kids who'd just eat it up, the ones who thought that Cinderella Skeleton was the best Cinderella story ever. But it would have given me nightmares as a small child, so be cautious. Though if you're an adult horror fan? Definitely pick this up. In thirty-two sparse pages, it tells a very chilling tale.

Kevin Cormack
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Now this is more like it. Of the three “Horror Picture Books” published in October from Viz, this is the only one I'd consider actually buying. It helps that I already adore Junji Ito's signature creepy art style. I've not seen a whole lot of his painted art before, and this iteration of his work has a softer, but no less unsettling vibe.

Ito's main forte is surreal body horror, and while the book starts off quite subtly, with simple face-like blobs seen in the backgrounds, by the end of the book we're in full-on gonzo existential horror mode, with weird, fully-formed 3D faces protruding from every surface. It's no wonder the poor kid at the center of the story is so disturbed. So would I be if everywhere I looked I saw eyes staring back at me. It makes the thought of being pumped full of some nice strong antipsychotic drugs seem almost desirable.

What sets apart Ito's work here from the other artists in this series is how dense and detailed it is. There is so much to look at in every page, so many little hidden things. Picture books are made to pore over, and Ito definitely understood the assignment when painting this. In a way, it feels like one of his more surreal manga chapters, starting with a slightly unusual premise, then escalating to a mad crescendo.

Like the other books in the series, it's disappointingly short, and I'm not sure it justifies the full $20 asking price, but as I'm something of an Ito completist, I'll no doubt add this to my collection.

Bolts
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When I was a kid, I used to look at faces and different shapes in what was around me. Sometimes you see a rabbit in the clouds, while other times you might make out a face in the ridges of a wall. But what happens when you start seeing faces everywhere you go? The idea of always being watched and looked at, even if nothing is technically happening to you, fills me with a sense of dread. It's almost like I'm getting a debuff for every set of eyes that are on me, because suddenly it feels harder to live my life. Imagine waking up, and the number of those eyes slowly increasing throughout the day? Other people can't see what you see, and you start wishing that you could never see the eyes that are staring back at you.

What really communicates this idea is the artwork by Junji Ito. He's always been a master at crafting unsettling mixes of organic and inorganic features. The idea that the book starts with subtle shadows of faces, but slowly gives those faces more detail throughout the course of the book to the point where it looks like a mob of humans is following this poor boy on every surface of everything that he sees, was simple but effective. However, there is a drawback. There isn't really a message or definitive point that the story ends on. There's a lot of buildup as if there is going to be a dramatic and disturbing twist, but the book ends in a much more subdued way than I was expecting, so I was a little disappointed. However, that doesn't negate the fact that the buildup and craftsmanship on display are still a cut above the rest. Besides, sometimes things just suck, and there's not much we can do about it.