The Education of Hopey Glass -- There's probably not a more perfect comics reading experience than immersing yourself in a Love and Rockets collection; they're all representative of the very best that comics can aspire to be, and The Education of Hopey Glass stands out as a premier example.

The book collects over a dozen short stories by Jaime Hernandez, stories that originally appeared in the now-complete L&R Vol. 2 (Vol. 3 will be an annual series of graphic novels). The focus in the first half of the book is mostly on Maggie's on-again, off-again lover Hopey, and the second half of the book is given over to the misadventures of Ray as he falls into orbit around Vivian, AKA "The Frogmouth."

Every story in this volume is sublimely rewarding and narratively fulfilling. By now Love and Rockets really is like going home for longtime readers. The characters have, decades after their creation, become as much a part of the reader's life as any friend or family member, with all the hope for their well-being and amusement at their foibles that that suggests. Much is unsaid about Hopey's attractions and aspirations, but by watching her actions, at the eye doctor, at home, at work, learning to drive -- we love her as Maggie does. How could you not?

Ray is more challenging a character than Hopey, because he's not as honest with himself or others as she is. But ultimately he's easy to relate to because his frustrations and desires mirror our own. Both the Ray/Frogmouth and the Hopey stories feature Angel, a sexy, full-figured young woman who is the focus of the best story in the book, a four-pager about her tossing a ball around with her dad and talking about her hopes and the unfair limitations she's facing.

The effect of Love and Rockets, as any individual book or as a decades-long experience, is always a cumulative one. I read these stories when they were serialized in periodical form, and I loved them. Taken together, re-worked into one long story broken up into chapters focusing on the various characters, a different focus reveals itself and I appreciate them even more. Most comics aren't as good the second time you read them, but Love and Rockets stories are always better with repeated exposure -- like spending time with loved ones you cherish and adore. Just exactly like that, in fact.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 11:10 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Kirby: King of Comics -- Author Mark Evanier mentions at one point in this generously illustrated biography that one could have filled ten such volumes full of Kirby's art, and of course that's true. I don't know if anyone has ever estimated how many pages of art the man born Jacob Kurtzburg produced in the seven or so decades he drew comics, but it's safe to say it was more than nearly anyone else of his time. Or any time.

Virtually every one of those pages was dynamic, and packed with a powerful sense of emotion. More importantly, almost from the very beginning, every page Kirby created was uniquely Kirby. There's a page in this wonderful book that shows covers featuring three different Kirby creations (The Demon, Machine Man and Captain America, I think) in strikingly similar poses. And unlike lesser artists who slide by on a limited skill-set, Kirby's stock images still arrest the eye with their drama and immediacy.

Mark Evanier was friends with Kirby from the time he was a teenager; he was there for the humiliations (Marvelmania, DC doctoring his artwork to conform to the house style) and the triumphs (Jack finally getting his art back; Jack finally getting his due, albeit from the animation industry, not comics). Kirby's vision and contribution to the comics artform so transcend normal boundaries of accomplishment that even his most cherished and sought-after victories in life tend to seem pyrrhic. Yes, he got his art back, but how many hundreds or thousands of pages were first stolen from Marvel's warehouses? Yes, he lived to know that he was truly respected as the King of Comics (and how he got that title and what it really meant to him is wondrously told by Evanier over the course of the entire book); but was it ever enough? Did Jack Kirby get his due?

From most readers of comics, I'd say he did. From the comics industry, the debt owed Kirby could never really begin to be repaid. His imagination, and perhaps more importantly his work ethic, were too staggering and too constant. Comics could never keep up with him, from the publishers, to the sales outlets, to the readers. From almost the birth of the artform as we understand it today, Kirby was always decades ahead of his time. Look at the recent, successful repackaging of Kirby's Fourth World work as a series of expensive hardcover omnibus editions. Kirby knew before the original comics were even created that this was their ideal form. It took over 30 years for readers, comic shops, bookstores and publishers to "get with it."

As I say, Mark Evanier spent a good portion of his life as Kirby's friend and colleague. No one save his wife Roz probably had more of Jack's trust and understanding. And Evanier even admits there's still aspects of Kirby he is trying to understand today, over a decade after we lost him.

Kirby: King of Comics. The book is a treasure, a celebration of the greatest superhero artist who will ever live and one of only five or so true geniuses of the comics artform entire. Kirby: King of Comics. The title reminds me of the first time I heard Evanier's name, watching the Tonight Show one night, as Johnny Carson read a letter from Mark Evanier (Carson said his name wrong) explaining why Jack was "the King of Comics," a title Carson had mocked on an earlier episode because he thought the title was referring to comedians, and Carson had never heard of Kirby the comedian and so made fun of the very idea.

Mark Evanier set Johnny Carson straight about Jack Kirby that night, and I've been a fan of his ever since. Mark's done a lot of things in life aside from set people straight about Jack Kirby, but there's nothing more noble he's accomplished that I know of. In words and pictures, Kirby: King of Comics is the official record of the life and work of one of the greatest, most unique minds to ever grace us with its workings. Evanier lets us understand Kirby to the extent that understanding is possible, and in its way, that is as remarkable as Kirby himself.

Kirby: King of Comics is available from the publisher, Harry N. Abrams. Roger Green has also reviewed Kirby: King of Comics.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 7:25 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Reviews I Agree With: The Black Diamond -- Larry Young sent me the seven issues of The Black Diamond (seven counting the "on-ramp" zero-style issue) along with a note saying he was interested in what I thought of the series.

My thoughts are reflected pretty well in this review of The Black Diamond at Pop Matters. In a nutshell: great premise, lousy execution. Which is a shame, because I really liked the on-ramp issue.

From the creator of Astronauts in Trouble, I can only hope for better things next time.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 12:56 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 1 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 

Lifelike -- Dara Naraghi's been writing small press comics for about as long as I have been writing about comics, and he finally gets a chance in the spotlight with the beautiful hardcover collection Lifelike.

Naraghi writes all the stories in this anthology, with a strong collection of up-and-coming artists illustrating his vision. Some, like Steve Black and Tom Williams, are welcome, familiar names; others, like Jerry Lange and Tim McClurg, are new to me. But they all bring their best work to Naraghi's scripts, resulting in a book that is visually diverse but beautiful to look at, and held together by the strength of Naraghi's writing.

From reading his earlier comics, it's no surprise to me that Naraghi loves to write; in fact, it comes through in everything he does. The stories in Lifelike span a variety of genres, from autobiography to EC-style suspense (the excellent "Double-Cross at the Double Down" with artist MP Mann). But virtually everything here has the spark of genuine creativity and the power to entertain. The final story, "Repair," is visually stunning thanks to the confident, Euro-stylings of artist Shom Bhuiya, and the sense of place and emotion Naraghi's script brings to the piece ring true.

IDW has delivered superb production values for this volume, packed with good comics in a gorgeous hardcover for just twenty bucks. Naraghi's a name you'll be seeing in comics more and more in the years ahead, so Lifelike seems like an obvious bargain to me. It's twenty bucks you won't regret spending in the least, and if you're new to Naraghi's writing, a very good entry into his world.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 5:21 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 

Johnny Boo -- James Kochalka has created a 32-page story that is as kid-friendly as they come. Kochalka has said that he consulted with his young son Eli as he worked on this story, to make sure that it was working on the intended audience. Since Eli is about 3 years old, and I am 42, it's hard for me to be sure, but it seems likely to me that very young children will enjoy having Johnny Boo read to them.

This is not the same children's book style Kochalka worked in for Pinky and Stinky or Peanutbutter and Jeremy; artistically, Johnny Boo is closest to Kochalka's adults-only team book Super-F*ckers, with primary colours all over the place. Where Boo is unlike Super-F*ckers, other than a lack of profanity and gross-outs, is in a lack of scope. Super-F*ckers always feels like a wild ride with a million things happening at once, but Johnny Boo takes place entirely within the same grassy field that it begins in. If the characters ever move more than a few feet at a time within the story, it's not apparent.

Given that, Johnny Boo is probably going to mainly appeal to only the very young; but for pre-schoolers like Eli, this slight tale of ghosts, ice cream and monsters may seem enormous in scope, and it certainly has enough conflict and burping to keep them interested until the very end. And hopefully as they get older they'll be tempted to further explore Kochalka's growing library of graphic novels, which by now seems to have something for every age, and every interest.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 10:41 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 

That Salty Air -- Tim Sievert's first graphic novel, published by Top Shelf Productions, is a parable of frustration, rage and grief, told in a style that echoes alternative cartoonists such as Charles Burns, Craig Thompson and Richard Sala. There's a strong and confident use of black ink that defines the ocean that creates the "salty air" that the protagonist, Hugh, professes to love -- but the blackness of the ocean hides depths of despair and resentment, in addition to the wondrous creatures of the deep that seem to hover around the edge of Hugh's consciousness.

It's a tale told at leisure -- at 110 pages, Sievert could have told it in a quarter of the space he chooses to fill. But like the ocean, there's room to explore, and Sievert uses it well to dig into the hidden nooks and secret crannies deep in Hugh's soul.

Two letters arrive, from the same person, on the same day. To tell you what they are or who they are from would spoil your experience of the book, so I won't. But the letters forever alter Hugh and Maryanne's understanding and occupation of the space they live in. For one, the world gets vastly more large; for the other, the ocean is reduced to a small pool of unlimited fury.

I mention Charles Burns, and I think you'll see his influence in the strangeness of the deep, the creatures so alien to our everyday experience of life, and yet as much a part of the world as we are, ourselves. Sievert's story becomes ever more stranger, the more it unfolds, and the unknowable oddness of the deepest undersea life is a fine metaphor for the ways in which we are unable to process the most profound and unwelcome moments of our life, such as the moments Hugh has to come to grips with out there on the ocean.

But there are sweet moments in life that are hard to describe and harder still to come to terms with, and deep in Hugh's falling apart, Maryanne introduces him to that truth; the ultimate question is whether he can navigate the new seas his life has revealed to him, so rich with paradox and so full of promise. That Salty Air concerns itself with Hugh's choices and his ultimate decision, and is a very good first graphic novel from a very promising young talent.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 10:20 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 

10 Things I Love About The New Mome -- The tenth volume of the Fantagraphics comics anthology Mome is in my hands, and to celebrate its tenth volume, here are ten things I loved about it:

10. Dash Shaw's mind-fucking backward/forward robot war tragicomedy "Look Forward, First Son of Terra Two." FANTASTIC.

9. The textures in the Jim Woodring piece; the story (continued from Vol. 9) is up to the usual Woodring standard of psychedelic excellence, but the textures on display in the neighbourhood scenes are astonishing.

8. The final panel in the Woodring story: study it carefully. How long have these kids been weeping, and what are they mourning? A lost world of wonder? Their own ability to function in a universe they no longer understand?

7. Tom Kaczynski's interview, conducted by Gary Groth. Groth is one of my personal heroes, whatever his perceived flaws, and no one can doubt his ability to paint fascinating portraits of the people he interviews, virtually every time out. Kaczynski is no exception -- his life story is interesting stuff, and his inclusion in Mome has improved it measurably.

6. No surprise, then, that his story in this volume is one of the highlights. He takes the Clowes/Tomine ball that he references in the Groth interview, and he runs off in unexpected directions with it.

5. Kaczynski's portrait of The Lizard bursting out of Spider-Man's costume is worth noting all on its own.

4. Ten volumes in, and no price increase.

3. The Sophie Crumb full-page portrait right at the front of the issue. I am finding her strips a little out of place in Mome and I wish we'd see more of her solo series Belly Button Comix, but this is a nice piece of art and a stretch from her usual Mome offerings.

2. John Hankiewicz's "Success Comes to Westmont, IL" is a change of pace for the cartoonist, a little more direct than his usual fare, but also using stylistic change-ups to add depth and nuance to the narrator's bitter complaint.

1. Al Columbia's cover -- there are cat people and dog people, and I am a cat people. The front and back covers are both cat portraits by Al Columbia, and both are extraordinary and chilling in very different ways. I think the thing I love the most is the phantom claw just barely visible on the right side of the image; is Columbia showing us a bit of his process, or suggesting the speed with which cats move, or both? Also of note: This is the first original cover the series has featured, instead of a blown-up image from the interior. I liked that idea, but I love Columbia's cover more.

Labels: art, recommendations, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 9:44 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 6 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Yearbook Stories 1976-1978 -- Top Shelf co-publisher Chris Staros became well-known in comics thanks to his Staros Report, an engaging and highly personal fanzine/checklist of his favourite comics that he published in the 1990s. In addition to his reviews and commentary, he also included some value-added autobiographical comics which were fun to read. The material collected in Yearbook Stories, which originally appeared in the 2001 SPX Anthology, are as much fun as his previous efforts.

There are two tales, one longer one illustrated by Bo Hampton in lush black and white, and a shorter one drawn by Rich Tommaso. "The Willful Death of a Stereotype," the Hampton-drawn story, is about Staros attempting to reinvent himself by running for 6th grade class president. Of such stuff are Afterschool Specials made of, but thanks to Hampton's brilliant artwork and Staros's forward-driven narrative, "Willful Death" becomes something special. Great, truthful little moments and a genuinely reflective conclusion leave the reader with real insight into Staros's personality -- hell, even into his inclusive vision of comics. Good autobio comics tell you something about their creator while they entertain you, and "Willful Death" does both.

"The Worst Gig I ever Had" is the pleasant after-dinner mint of the book, a short story about the weird things that can happen to high-schoolers who form a band. Tomasso illustrates the story in an inky sort of Paul-Grist-Meets-Kevin-Huizenga groove, and it ends on an amusing note that would shock and awe the Staros found in the previous story.

Top Shelf has priced Yearbook Stories at a hugely reasonable $4.00. It's a nicely-formatted slightly-larger-than-digest-sized pamphlet that will make for a good stocking stuffer for anyone you know who's into comics, or just a fun and thoughtful addition to your own reading pile. And given that it's subtitled "1976-1978," I hope there may be more issues to come. I'm sure Staros has more stories in him, and we could use more comics like Yearbook Stories.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 6:17 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
ADD's 2007 Year in Review -- Let's look back at a great year for comics. First up:

THE BEST of 2007

* Crecy, Warren Ellis and Raulo Caceres (Avatar) -- This one took me by surprise, and ended up being by far one of my favourite comics of the year. The way Ellis uses the lead character's narration is pretty unique in comics, and adds a layer of comedy and depth to the true story of a crucial historical battle. This is one you have to experience to really appreciate how accomplished it is. [Full Crecy review].

* Criminal, Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips (Marvel/Icon) -- Although I didn't review any single issues of this in calendar 2007, it was still my favourite monthly read and a more entertaining and well-crafted title than any other five comics you could name from either Marvel or DC. The second story arc, "Lawless," just wrapped up, and it was one of Brubaker's best pieces of character work ever, with Phillips contributing his usual amazing artwork -- he's the very best artist currently creating monthly comics, no question. [Criminal #1 review].

* Marvel Zombies: Dead Days and Marvel Zombies 2, Robert Kirkman and Sean Phillips (Marvel) -- Nothing captures the real spirit of Marvel's heyday better than this perverse reimagining of their core characters, which has become a franchise unto itself. Stick with the books by Kirkman and Phillips, and know you're in for a grand time. [Marvel Zombies 2 #1 review].

* I Shall Destroy All The Civilized Planets, Fletcher Hanks (Fantagraphics Books) -- Junky and presumed-forgotten comics by one of the artform's weirdest minds were recontextualized by Fantagraphics and editor Paul Karasik into one of the must-read collections of the year. You may never look at superheroes the same way again, and never have as much fun reading them. [I Shall Destroy All The Civilized Planets review].

* A Treasury of Victorian Murder: Saga of the Bloody Benders, Rick Geary (NBM/ComicsLit) -- This was one of the finest and most fun original graphic novels of the year. You don't hear much about Geary on the comics news sites, but he quietly has become one of the most unique and dependable storytellers in the entire medium. [Bloody Benders review].

* Please Release, Nate Powell (Top Shelf) -- If there's a more thoughtful and interesting artcomix practitioner than Nate Powell, I don't know who it would be. He's someone you'll be hearing a lot more about in the years ahead, and the stories in this collection are a good indicator why. [Please Release review].

* Amazing Spider-Man Omnibus, Stan Lee and Steve Ditko (Marvel) -- I didn't review this, but I don't think there was a better value for your superhero dollar than this 99.9 percent perfect collection of possibly the greatest superhero comics of all time. The misspelling of Steve Ditko's name on the last page is the only flaw I could detect, but Jesus, what a flaw to have in an otherwise exquisite presentation of these essential comics.

* All-Star Superman, Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely (DC) -- The most fun I've had since, well, any other Morrison and Quitely project you could name. One of the greatest, most entertaining teams working in corporate comics.

* Shortcomings, Adrian Tomine (Drawn & Quarterly) -- Any other creator delivering a novel this dense and entertaining would probably be hailed in every corner of the blogosphere, but the excellence of Shortcomings is by now expected, and therefore possibly not as thrill-generating. But rest assured, this exploration of race and relationships is Tomine stretching, even if just a little bit, and that makes it more than worth your attention. [Optic Nerve #9 (Shortcomings Chapter 1) review].

* The Complete Peanuts, Charles Schulz (Fantagraphics) -- This series is well into the most glorious era of the best comic strip ever, and you should definitely be reading along to see how the magic happened, day after day, for half a century. I recently reviewed David Michaelis's Schulz biography, Schulz and Peanuts, as well.

* Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight, Joss Whedon and Georges Jeanty (Dark Horse) -- I don't know if this title will bring any new readers to comics, but if you were ever a fan of Whedon's TV work, this is the most note-perfect adaptation/continuation you could possibly have asked for. Even writer Brian K. Vaughan's arc is keeping me entertained, and that's quite an accomplishment considering his stuff usually not only leaves me cold, but makes me throw up a little in my mouth.

* Spent, Joe Matt (Drawn and Quarterly) -- I suppose this is the sort of story anti-artcomix folks are talking about when they damn all artcomix with the "navel-gazey/autobio/masturbation" accusation. Fuck them, I love Matt's stuff. [Peepshow #13 (Spent Chapter 1) review].

* The Boys, Garth Ennis and Darick Robertson (Dynamite) -- Anyone who dismisses The Boys as mere foul-mouthed satire is missing one of the wildest and best superhero rides around. The book just gets better with every passing issue. [The Boys #8 review].

* Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together and League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: The Black Dossier, Bryan Lee O'Malley (Oni), and Alan Moore and Kevin O'Neill (DC/Wildstorm) -- All right, I haven't read these yet because they come out today. I admit it. But by this time tomorrow I will have likely read both, and based on previous volumes in both series, I have no doubt they belong on this list. If I'm wrong, I'll happily come back and edit this post. But I don't think I'll have to. Related: As much as I miss Moore's ABC line, I am pleased as punch for him that he's out from under his indentured servitude to DC, a company that has gone far out of its way to shit on him time and time again. And I look forward to supporting every project he chooses to create with any other publisher. DC really, really fucked up when they decided (multiple times) to alienate the best writer ever to work in comics, and they will likely lose hundreds of thousands of dollars or more in future revenue as a result of their petty, vindictive bullshit. Fuck anyone who had a hand in Moore's decision to separate himself permanently from the company.

And now, because there was just a lot of it, here's some of:

THE WORST of 2007

* Martha Washington Dies, Frank Miller and Dave Gibbons (Dark Horse) -- I don't know what I was expecting from this, but having really enjoyed the original series back when it debuted, this came as something of a shallow, pointless kick in the teeth. [Martha Washington Dies review].

* Green Lantern Sinestro Corps Special #1, Geoff Johns and Ethan Van Sciver (DC) -- Noogies. Fucking noogies. Who does Geoff Johns have pictures of, and what farm animal are they sodomizing, exactly? I can't believe anyone would even have to ask if Geoff Johns still sucks, but there it is. He sure as fuck does. [GLSCS #1 review].

* Tales from the Crypt #1, various (Papercutz) -- Very possibly the worst idea of the year, if not ever. [TFTC #1 review].

* Thor #1, J. Michael Straczynski and Oliver Coipel (Marvel) -- "How mightily it fails to impress," I said, proving just how pervasive Thor's pseudo-Shakespearean dialect might be. This was one big, malodorous turd in the mighty small punchbowl that is "what I expect from Marvel these days." [Thor #1 review].

* The Highwaymen #1 (DC/Wildstorm) -- The creators of this exercise in generic tedium were shocked when the title was canceled after a handful of issues. I sure as hell wasn't. [The Highwaymen #1 review].

LOOKING AHEAD

What am I looking forward to in 2008? Hopefully more surprises like Crecy and I shall Destroy All The Civilized Planets, and more expected excellence like Criminal, All-Star Superman, Scott Pilgrim, anything by Rick Geary, and The Boys. And I really hope Dark Horse collects (in hardcover, goddamn it!) Kurt Busiek and Greg Ruth's Born on the Battlefield, one of the most compelling Conan stories ever presented. I'd also like to see Barry Windsor-Smith's Paradoxman collection from Fantagraphics, and see Marvel get its head out of its ass and release BWS's Thing graphic novel.

Labels: lists, recommendations, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 12:46 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 1 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Michaelis and Schulz and Peanuts -- Over the weekend, I finished reading David Michaelis's Schulz and Peanuts: A Biography; I'd like to say I came away from it knowing which side is right in the controversy over the book, but Schulz was too complex a subject with too large a life to make it as easy as declaring his family to be right or wrong in their displeasure with the book.

It's undeniably well-researched, and Michaelis obviously talked to many different people from all the eras of Schulz's life to get a picture of who he was. But Michaelis admits late in the volume that he never personally met Schulz, and ultimately the picture painted of the man feels like it lacks some vital elements. We learn a lot -- or at least, a lot of times -- about Schulz's stoic distance from others and his inability to give and receive affection in the way most of us understand and process it. But this seems highly at odds with the clear fact that the man had five children, two wives and numerous relationships ranging from lifelong friendships to brief flirtations and everything in-between.

What ultimately resolved itself for me in the pages of the book is a portrait of Sparky Schulz as a master manipulator of people's emotions and actions. Michaelis, deliberately or not, creates an image of a not terribly palatable human being who uses his own melancholy and neediness to get everything from sex to recognition of his genius as a cartoonist. It seems like revenge is what motivated Schulz from very early in his life -- revenge for the death of his mother and the abyss that created for his ego, and revenge for all the slights he received along the way from being a fan of the newspaper comics to becoming the artform's most gifted and sublime practitioner.

Having read Peanuts for virtually the entirety of my life, it's extraordinarily difficult for me to process the contradictions inherent in believing that a comic strip so rich with human feeling and insight could have been created by someone as wretched as Michaelis's book ultimately suggests Sparky Schulz could be. But the long record of interviews Schulz left behind suggests that he did, indeed, have a difficult time coming to grips with how much his work was loved. I suppose it's no big leap to assume he could have had an equally hard time accepting love in his private life, for all the years that he lived.

Moreover, Michaelis presents many comic strips to back up his assertions throughout the book, and it's unlikely anyone who reads the entire book and the accompanying strips will ever quite be able to perceive its totality the same way again. Peanuts ultimately may have been far more autobiography than anyone could ever have known, perhaps most depressingly Schulz's first wife Joyce, who it seems would have had a far greater understanding of her marriage and her husband if she had just bothered to read the funnies every day.

Sometimes Michaelis's research seems to drive the narrative in ways that lend little or no insight into his putative subjects; the occasional list of performers at the ice hockey rink Schulz's wife championed, or a list of licensed Peanuts merchandise, finally reveal nothing more than that they are, in fact, lists. We all know Snoopy and Charlie Brown and the rest of the cast of the comic strip was merchandised and licensed ad infinitum. Such moments highlight what I think is the book's greatest flaw, especially given that the title is Schulz and Peanuts: Michaelis tells us nothing about a fifty-year run of comics that doesn't support his Citizen Kane theory of Sparky Schulz's life.

Michaelis seems to know virtually nothing about comics. At one point, Schulz is quoted saying something about the quality of his linework; over the course of this biography, Michaelis offers no insight at all about Schulz's art past some very facile observations about big, round heads and tiny little bodies. Reference is made to how the interior of Charlie Brown's home was based on the home the Schulz family lived in, but readers will learn nothing much at all about Schulz's ability to depict space and time in black and white on the comics page, about what made his art so very different and unique from what other cartoonists were creating at the same time. That Schulz's art was unique may be granted by Michaelis, but he seems to lack a critic's ability to explain and explore it.

If you come into Schulz and Peanuts thinking you will learn anything at all about what it takes to create comics, especially an unprecedented success like Peanuts that revolutionized an artform, think again. You will learn that Schulz went to his studio with great, even obsessive, discipline. But you will learn virtually nothing about what went through the man's mind as he sat at his drawing board for hours on end, every day of the week. Perhaps, in the end, he was driven by nothing more than a need to get away from other people and a need to reinforce his own sense of melancholy; that's what Michaelis supposes, but I choose to believe the author makes that choice not because it's all there is to know, but rather because it supports his thesis.

Charles Schulz, in Michaelis's interpretation, spent his life suffering from, reacting to, and living inside his own pain. Pain stemming mostly from the death of his mother. "'Rosebud,' Schulz sighed, and then he died." Michaelis's research and interviews are valuable, and the book is worth reading, but the Citizen Kane model of Schulz's life does not explain everything that made Peanuts a comic strip that will endure as long as there are books, and people to read them.

Schulz and Peanuts tells us a lot of facts about Schulz, and some analysis of Schulz as a man. But it seems to leave out a lot about Schulz, suggesting he was either as simple as the public record suggests, or unknowably complex. And we learn painfully little about Peanuts. There's still a book out there waiting to be written that will open up all our perceptions about what only Sparky Schulz could do with comics. I hope someday to read it.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 12:54 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 4 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Marvel Zombies 2 #1 -- Kirkman and Phillips pick up where they left off (albeit 50 years later) without missing a beat. Of course, 50 years isn't so long when you're a zombie, or possess a devoured portion of the Power Cosmic, or both, so most of the gang from the first series is back, some in surprising and gratifying ways.

Sean Phillips's art seems rougher than the previous series, or that he's delivering for Criminal, but his crunchy, neo-old school stylings are always a joy to see on Marvel characters, especially zombified ones.

Yes, zombies are a worn-out trend in comics, but in Marvel Zombies the gorgeous art and tongue-in-cheek (or protruding through cheek?) pathos provide non-stop entertainment.

Keep all your Wars, both Secret and Civil -- I'll take as much more Marvel Zombies as Kirkman and Phillips have to deliver. Beware shoddy spin-offs, one-shots and what-have-you by other creators (both past and future), but Marvel Zombies as envisioned by Kirkman and Phillips is some great superhero comics that walk a fine line between (ha!) biting satire and genuine superhero melodrama.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 6:05 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Squa Tront #12 -- I first encountered John Benson's Squa Tront in the 1980s, most likely in the pages of Bud Plant's paradigm-shifting catalog of comics, graphic novels and artbooks. What's amazing to me all these years later is that, as much as has changed in the past 20 or 25 years in the industry and artform of comics, Squa Tront hasn't changed at all. It's focused solely on cataloging as much of the history of EC Comics as possible, and is one of the most valuable comics-related magazines ever produced.

This issue is mostly interviews, generously illustrated as always. Artist Jack Kamen reminisces about his EC days and we learn that he did quite well for himself in advertising art and investing after he left comics (his son Dean is noteworthy for creating the Segway personal transport device, although this interview doesn't mention that, having been conducted some years back). Kamen tells an amusing anecdote of EC publisher Bill Gaines accusing Kamen's monsters of all looking like fish, and despite a page of panels designed to prove otherwise, you know, a lot of them do look like fish.

Possibly the highlight of the issue is a decades-old interview with Harvey Kurtzman, who pulls few punches in talking about his frustrations while at EC; he especially despised Lyle Stuart, and lo and behold, we also find an interview with Stuart in which we find the feeling was mutual. Given Kurtzman's description of Stuart's belligerent manner while a guest in Kurtzman's home, I'll side with Kurtzman here. Especially since Stuart, in his interview, also fails to recognize the genius of Bernard Krigstein, and makes it clear that he felt the best comics were the ones prepared for the least amount of money. So Stuart comes off as a bit of a jerk and with zero capacity for art in his soul, but as is usual for Squa Tront, his interview is still required reading for anyone interested in EC.

This issue has two spectacular covers -- a horror-themed painting on the front by Johnny Craig, and perhaps best of all, a Kurtzman-illustrated portrait of the entire EC bullpen, hats in hand and looking quite contrite. A lengthy article inside explains the whys and hows this piece was deemed necessary to create, yet another amazing piece of previously-unknown EC history.

Production values on Squa Tront are unquestionably gorgeous, thanks to editor John Benson and designer Greg Sadowski (author/designer of two fantastic books on the afore-mentioned Krigstein). For a mere $9.95, Squa Tront provides hours of fascinating reading about one of the most unique and interesting comics publishing houses in the history of the artform. Along with The Comics Journal and Comic Art, it has to be said that Squa Tront is a treasure trove of information and entertainment for people who love to read about comics as much as they love to read them.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 10:20 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Warren Ellis's Crécy -- It's entirely possible Crécy is the perfect Warren Ellis comic book.

It's profane, it's violent, and it's extremely British. It's also funny, smart, and will teach you things you probably already ought to know (and most likely do if you were schooled in the UK or France).

Most relevant to my theory that it might be the perfect Ellis comic, not a page feels wasted or compromised in the way his Marvel and DC work sometimes evinces. As with the best of Ellis's work at Avatar (Dark Blue, the current Black Summer), his imagination runs at feverish full speed even as his writerly instincts retain primacy to create a controlled and quite compelling story. And Crécy even offers up something else: It's written in a manner quite unlike anything Ellis has created before.

First and foremost, Crécy is history. It's about a specific moment in time when the English and the French had a decisive confrontation that has informed, we're told, many (if not all) battles that followed and defined how the two nations see themselves and each other politically and culturally. It's narrated by a blunt, coarse and hate-filled archer named William of Stonham who speaks directly to the reader in a third-wall breaking monologue that occasionally intersects with the action in real time. Other comics may have featured this technique in short segments or stories, but Ellis utilizes this unusual stylistic choice to great effect, drawing us right onto the battlefield and making us sympathize with the cause and motivations of our foul-mouthed protagonist. It really is extraordinary, just how effectively this allows Ellis to communicate to us the enduring importance of this historic battle.

Artist Raulo Caceres is a fine fit with Ellis's script, delivering illustrations heavy on mood, atmosphere and most essentially, a sense of place. Maps and widescape vistas give a solid sense of Crécy as a real place in space and time, and his depiction of the requisite uniforms, weaponry and horses -- all difficult and research-heavy items to have to illustrate, to be sure -- come off as convincing and natural. His style could be described as EC-era John Severin meets Bernie Wrightson, influences altogether appropriate for Ellis's tale, which could easily have been placed in Two-Fisted Tales decades ago, were it not for a generous use of profanity and violence.

But what, most of all, may make Crécy the perfect Warren Ellis comic is its final panel. After all we've seen and all we've learned, Ellis ends on one last bit of business that is both profanity and information all tied up in one unforgettable visual punchline. I'd guess, and I don't know either way, but I'd guess that the entire reason for Crécy's existence may stem from Ellis's desire to comment on the legendary gesture that closes out the story. It's witty and subversive and uniquely Warren Ellis, and more to his credit (and his publishers), it's neither censored nor explained. You either get it or you don't, and it works either way.

It's a perfect moment in a great graphic novel that rises to the standard of other great, idiosyncratic historical works in comics like Chester Brown's Louis Riel, Rick Geary's Victorian Murder series or Jack Jackson's Texas histories. As history, as comics, and as evidence of Warren Ellis's gifts as a writer, Crécy is essential stuff.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 3:32 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Two to Get in San Diego -- I won't be at the San Diego Comicon this year (my unbroken streak continues!), but two graphic novels spring immediately to mind as worth recommending to you if you're going and you see them up for sale.

* I Shall Destroy All The Civilized Planets (Fantagraphics Books) -- This big collection of truly freaky superhero comics by Fletcher Hanks is edited by Paul Karasik, and includes an illustrated comic-style afterword about how the project came to be. Hank's talents combine the rubbery stylings of Basil Wolverton interpreting the twisted scripting of Michael Fleischer, with a singleness of purpose to each and every script that at first seems like laziness or a lack of imagination, but by the end of the book will have you realizing in its own way, this one-track mind of Hanks's may have been his greatest gift to comics. He apparently wasn't a very nice guy, if you believe Karasik's afterword (and there's no reason not to), but in his own way his comics seem like a distillation of everything that is possible in superhero comics, and everything that is utterly retarded. This is one of the essential books of the year, without question.

* Spent (Drawn and Quarterly) -- The four issues collected here seemed somehow more monumental when I was buying them in single issues over the years they took to come out, but Joe Matt's latest collection is still, in some ways, his most personal and interesting. The intimate details of his repugnant private life when he was living in Canada are all on display, and no doubt many who knew what he was up to may be glad he's living back in the States now. Matt, Seth and Chester Brown (the latter two are characters in the book) all make up a sort of mini-movement in artcomix, and I find just about everything all three do to be revealing and progressive comics that move the artform forward no matter what their individual tics and foibles. I can't say you'll like the guy once you close the covers of this very well-designed hardcover, but if you're like me you'll find it impossible to stop reading and even admire Matt's ability to depict his own worst nature with what appears to be brutal, if elegant, honesty.

* San Diego Bonus -- Here's Christopher Butcher's Five Favourite San Diego Memories; tell him I said "hi" if you see him there, would you?

Labels: linkblogging, recommendations, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 5:52 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Nothing Better Volume One: No Place Like Home -- I'm somewhat astonished to realize it's been five years since I reviewed Tyler Page's first graphic novel. I still think of him as just getting started, but he's been busy working on his craft: Nothing Better Volume One is substantially better than Stylish Vittles, which was a fine debut in and of itself.

But in that debut volume, Page displayed some arty mannerisms that detracted from his storytelling. I still vividly remember the lengthy sequence that prompted me to write "a journey through the cosmos to arrive at the college after many, many pages is a bit much," but I also remember the pleasure I got from reading the book, which had me noting in the same sentence that "on the whole I found the novel engaging and irresistible."

So how has Page improved? He does still cover much of the same ground -- the tenuous connections formed in new relationships, grappling with young adulthood, and questions about the existence of God -- but his storytelling is far more direct. In Nothing Better, Page creates a variety of characters with a variety of beliefs and personalities, and at no time does he seem to favour one over the other. Jane and Katt are as different as two young women can be, but both of them are likable and appealing -- sexy, even -- but they are complex characters who can both delight and infuriate with their actions.

Page's exploration of early college life is flawlessly convincing, too. A moment when a character returns home and is shocked to learn her parents expect her to follow her high school curfew feels expertly observed, as do many other moments.

I am not a religious person, and I wondered when the book's intentions came into focus if it was going to turn me off. But Page plays completely fair with both his characters and their beliefs. One character, known as "Jesus Gene" to Katt, Jane's atheist roommate, seems creepily insistent on dogma over intelligent inquiry, but it's not like there are not people like that in real life. And other characters who do believe in one religious philosophy or another don't do so to the exclusion of every other element of their lives, just like most religious people. These aren't extremists, they're just people. They believe what they believe, and some of them ask questions, and all of them are growing up and finding their own way. Page's depiction of their journey is fun and compelling to read, and his characters are impossible not to root for. This first volume does not conclude their story, but it does have a very nice final sequence that leaves the reader both satisfied, and ready for more.

In fact, you can read more -- the three chapters that follow the events of Volume One, as well as all of Volume One -- are available for reading at Tyler Page's website.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 2:47 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Martha Washington Dies -- The final chapter in the life of the dystopic war hero created by Frank Miller and Dave Gibbons has been released as a single issue comic book, and it strikes me as pretty symptomatic of the ongoing transformation of the comic book industry from a floppy, periodical-based enterprise to a graphic novel-centered business. It undeniably wraps up the saga and will, probably, make for an acceptable "final chapter" in the eventual collection of the entire series; but as a standalone comic book, it is less satisfying than half of a Pringles potato chip at snack time.

For $3.50 USD, readers get acolytes and followers of a now-ancient Martha Washington sitting around the fire listening to one last, lengthy inspirational speech. Gorgeously illustrated by Dave Gibbons, all you need to know about the contents of the issue are found in the title: Martha Washington Dies. Is Frank Miller yet again thumbing his nose at his longtime readers? More likely, again, Dark Horse just needed a final chapter. But as a single issue, this one feels like it's worth about $0.35 USD, not ten times that.

I'll admit I've long since given up on the idea that Frank Miller can write a comic book I will enjoy on a purely visceral (or any other) level. His tics and tropes, at this late date, seem as automatic and uninspired as his early Daredevil work seemed energetic and unpredictable. Clearly this was a comic meant to inspire, and if it's writer had remembered to give us a story to care about, it might have.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 8:21 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 1 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Alive -- I love the surge in comics reading that has happened in North America as a result of the manga revolution, but I have to admit that few multi-volume series have personally engaged me as a reader over the long haul. Probably the longest I stuck by a particular series was Battle Royale. I loved the first volume of Battle Royale, and bought maybe the first eight or nine volumes. But I loved the concept enough to want to see the film (both the manga and the movie were inspired by an original novel, I believe), and when a friend sent me the movie on DVD, I was thrilled. I enjoyed the hell out of the (demented and wild) movie, but it compromised my ability to be patient through the eventual 14 or 15 volumes of the manga series (I "knew how it ended," basically), and I dropped the title from my pull list. Bad critic; bad, bad.

My taste in manga seems to run more to short stories and single volumes. If you were to ask me what the most essential manga in my graphic novel library is, I'd immediately say the works of Yoshihiro Tatsumi collected by Drawn and Quarterly, The Push Man and Other Stories and Abandon the Old in Tokyo. Those aren't generally the manga I see teenagers gobbling down in the stacks at my local bookstores, but Tatsumi and I are both older than they are. I bet eventually some of them will see the same depth and power in his stuff that I do, weaned as they have been on an international and cosmopolitan worldview of comics (something I am glad, indeed, to have lived long enough to see come to pass).

Alive is a new series written by Tadashi Kawashima with art by Adachitoka; it's published by Del Ray Manga, and it reminded me a bit of Battle Royale: Both series feature likable teenage protagonists revolting against an insane, deadly set of circumstances. Alive is more humanistic in its approach, though. It takes less glee in the gore, and therefore the violence it does contain seems somehow more consequential.

There's the usual teasing sexuality, one panty shot being oddly intersected with a moment of horrific despair, and another moment in which a sister flashes her brother, to apparently bring him out of a funk (and apparently it works). I don't know that I'll ever fully understand the differences in our two cultures, not that I am casting aspersions one way or the other. I just thought it was worth noting -- the feeling of not quite being in a world you understand is inherent in even the most pedestrian of manga, and I'm not altogether certain that isn't one of its appeals, if not one of its greatest strengths.

The world (not just Japan, that's clearly spelled out) has been caught up in the grip of what some believe is a "suicide virus" (the term is in big bold letters on the back cover, so, this is not a spoiler), causing some people to just suddenly off themselves for no apparent reason. The strangeness of this turn of events is brilliantly captured in the extended sequence depicting the first suicide we see. The tone of the scene is both sublime and horrible at the same time, wondrously captured through words and pictures.

Another sequence stands out in my mind as one of the best in the book, and its one that takes full advantage of manga's ability to parse out a single moment over the course of many pages. The protagonist, Taisuke, attempts a rooftop rescue of a beautiful young girl as his actions are contrasted with his older sister witnessing a separate suicide attempt. It's a brilliantly-paced sequence that had me in a completely arrested state of suspense.

There are a couple of genuinely eerie scenes depicting the apparent initiation into the suicidal state of mind that is enveloping the world's peoples, moments that force you to stop reading as time stops for the characters involved.

Alive is pulpy stuff, with the feel of a story that is meant for serialization. I'm okay with that, though. It's off to a compelling start, and I want to read the rest of the story. Then I'll find out if there's a movie.

Labels: manga, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 1:29 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Tales From the Crypt #1 -- Papercutz revives the EC horror title in name only in this debut issue, which has a lot more wrong with it than right. To spoil the suspense, I'll say up front that Kyle Baker's cover is the only element that gets it entirely right, and even that is ruined with an ass-ugly word balloon.

A text piece promises two 20-page stories in each issue, "in the EC tradition," but the EC tradition is actually four stories five to seven pages or so in length. This gave EC's stable of writers and artists a narrow window with which to grab the reader's attention, and a lot of the time they did just that, creating at worst, lurid but entertaining pulp fiction, and at best, some of the most enduring masterpieces of comic book art ever.

The lead story here is called "Body of Work," and the script carries you along just fine up until the nonsensical non-ending, which demonstrates pretty definitively that the writer, Marc Bilgrey, has no grasp at all on story structure or dramatic payoff. The story does seem to be building to something, then it just ends in a manner that suggests Bilgrey was making it up as he went along, and either lost patience or ran out of pages. But there's no logic or irony to what happens, and both are essential if you are laying claim to working "in the EC tradition."

The art in "Body of Work," by "Mr. Exes," initially put me off; it looks quite a bit like Evan Dorkin's comedy work, actually. But, as inappropriate as the style seems for a comic called Tales From the Crypt, it works far better than Bilgrey's script ultimately does, and if the script had risen to a higher level than it ultimately does, the art could have worked despite being 180 degrees away from anything at all like what you might expect from an EC homage.

The second and final story in this debut issue is "For Serious Collectors Only," and I have to note that its writer, Rob Vollmar, is a longtime friend of mine. His story, about a rabid action figure collector, holds together better than "Body of Work," with some nice character moments and a compelling, if inside-baseball-ish script likely to appeal most to comic book nerds. But the ending, frankly, isn't much better constructed than Bilgrey's was, and if you're going to call your comic book Tales from the Crypt, man, your stories better have some fucking snap in their endings.

With four stories in every issue, the original EC Comics could get away with one or two clunkers; in fact, rare was the issue that had four uniformly excellent stories all in a row. With only two stories per issue, the series needs an editor and creators working overtime to make sure those two tales meet the standard you're setting yourself up for when you call the book Tales From the Crypt.

That, I think, is the main failure of the title. The 1950s Tales had a strong, unwavering (even heavy-handed) editorial mandate and oversight from William Gaines and Al Feldstein. There's little evidence of any editorial guidance here at all, from the top-level failure to make the stories as strong as possible, all the way down to the truly wretched lettering that is slapped onto both stories.

I'm all for a revival of EC-style comics, and I'm not so closed-minded that I think a new version has to necessarily be a rubber-stamp of the styles and techniques of Gaines and Company's work. But as someone who has a great love for the best EC had to offer, I'm actually offended by the lack of respect or comprehension this first issue demonstrates for what was special about EC Comics.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 9:36 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Crooked Little Vein -- "Crime and sex are inextricably linked, I have found." So says one of the plethora of bizarre and sordid characters private detective Mike McGill meets over the course of Warren Ellis's first prose novel. Readers of Crooked Little Vein will find crime and sex are bound up in each other, in ways most of us probably are only peripherally aware of.

But we're more and more aware of the strangeness of the world, thanks to the internet and its ability to provide instant information to anyone who wants it and can score access to a computer hooked up to the web. Humans have been doing weird shit to themselves, others and farm animals since probably before spoken language was even codified, but we never knew how widespread sexual strangeness could be, or how much of an audience it could muster, until the internet came along and shattered all our illusions. Ellis -- and better him than me, I must say -- has spent years prowling the web for the worst of what is out there, and Crooked Little Vein works as both a gripping mystery novel and a more-or-less true-life travelogue of the perverse.

If you've read any of Warren Ellis's comics work, especially Transmetropolitan and Desolation Jones, the first few pages of Crooked Little Vein might seem familiar. Mike McGill is an embittered but ultimately good-hearted private eye -- an admitted "shit magnet" -- who is tasked with uncovering a hidden truth that goes to the very heart of American culture, and is set-upon by vile and outrageous obstacles. A rat pisses in his coffee. A cutting-edge cell phone is introduced. A young woman with tattoos and many lovers of both genders comes on the scene. It's not, as I say, unfamilar, at least to devotees of Ellis's comics writing (of which I am one, it should be noted). But it's also entertaining and even enlightening stuff. I had a hard time putting the book down, honestly, and that was a pleasant surprise.

So if you're familiar with Ellis's comics work, try to see past your initial instinct that this will be more of Ellis plowing the same Pete Wisdom/Spider Jerusalem/Richard Fell kind of character that he does so well, or at least so often, and give yourself over to a particularly delicious ride.

Ellis teaming up his curmudgeonly bastard with a hot bisexual young woman is not the plot of the story, anyway -- it's merely the setup for what unfolds. And even the setup, once underway, is an amusing bit of business. What makes it work is the honest humanity Ellis injects into private detective Mike McGill. Utterly charming is the way in which McGill comes to grips with his relationship with Trix, his unpredictable and straightforwardly lusty partner in his investigation. What happens between them doesn't seem entirely likely in the real world, but the way Ellis sketches out the dynamics of Trix's personality, it becomes not only possible but logical. There's a real energy in their interplay, and their scenes together are a uniform delight. Crooked Little Vein's hidden depths lie in the growth Trix forces on McGill, and in his struggles with having his eyes opened to more than just the bizarre antics he keeps stumbling into.

Over the 276 pages, Ellis takes McGill and Trix on a journey through America's not-so-secret perversions, which are recounted in excruciatingly convincing detail. If the saline solution sequence made me squirm in discomfort, well, it was meant to, and I have a feeling that every weird sexual practice we learn about has a firm basis in reality. You'll come away from Crooked Little Vein knowing perhaps more than you ever thought you would about what people are doing to themselves and each other out there in the world, and while some sequences are definitely over-the-top -- the confrontation on the Roanoke Ranch, for example -- Ellis has a hell of a lot of fun with McGill's resigned sense of horror, and even more with the shenanigans of the White House Chief of Staff, who gets many of the book's best lines.

McGill and Trix are surprisingly rich in their characterization, adding an unexpected but altogether welcome level of nuance. You may wince here and there, if you haven't been paying attention to what has become mainstream in American sexual life, and you may find this sequence or that just a tad convenient, broadly drawn or didactic (a funny word to use, given what we're being educated about). But the book is never boring, and the lead characters honestly earn our interest and even concern. Crooked Little Vein ultimately delivers on its promises, rewarding readers with a bizarre and twisted adventure story.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 8:06 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
MOME Summer 2007 -- So we've had two years of MOME now, and every volume (this is the eighth) has contained a critical mass of good, forward-looking comics, enough so to make each one worth recommending to anyone interested in where comics is at, and where it's going.

Eleanor Davis is the star this time around, contributing a cover, incidental drawings sprinkled throughout the volume, an exceptional 12-page story and the subject of an interview with Gary Groth, one of the inventors of comics journalism and one of its finest practitioners (as well as the publisher of MOME, it should be noted).

Davis's story leads off the issue, and it is a gorgeous lesson in formalist seduction. "Stick and String" explores the primal intersection of like and not-like, and visual metaphors abound: male vs. female, dance vs. music, primitive vs. well, less-primitive. It's also a simple story about a sexual encounter, and it's hard to imagine any adult not finding meaning and resonance in it.

Tom Kaczynski's "10,000 Years" reads like the superintelligent bastard child of Adrian Tomine and Wally Wood, perhaps what comics would look like today if the Comics Code had not put EC Comics out of business in the 1950s, and the superhero had remained one genre among many in the '60s, '70s and '80s.

"Young Americans" by Èmile Bravo sticks its dick in your head and makes a milkshake of your mind's expectations, and is a dark highlight of the year in comics. To say any more would spoil the current volume's greatest moment.

There are two contributions from Sophie Crumb this time out, a one-pager that is a minor delight and a multi-page story that kind of makes me sympathetic with those who wish MOME were a Sophie-free zone. I do think her work would be better served in her own series, but I don't know if more Belly Button issues are planned. And maybe it's my bias toward autobiographical stories, but her dream comics (and those of most other cartoonists as well, it should be noted) tend to not interest me much.

Paul Hornschemeier closes out the issue with another chapter in his "Life with Mr. Dangerous" serial, which is a pleasure to read but difficult to assess on a semi-annual basis and may read better once collected under one cover.

Al Columbia, Lewis Trondheim and others also contribute, making for a good mix of established masters and progressive newcomers.

I kind of understand why Christopher Butcher wrestles with what MOME is, exactly. Each issue offers up a lot -- a lot of good work by great cartoonists. The next volume promises work by Jim Woodring, so there's no question that it's one of the most significant and even fun anthologies of comic art today. But each issue feels like another piece in a puzzle rather than a discreet comics event suitable for regular periodical placement on the magazine rack at Borders, maybe between AdBusters and ArtForum. With tweaking, MOME seems to me poised to be a real presence in the growing real-world interest in what is possible in comics. As it stands, MOME seems aimed at the already-converted artcomix lover, and I am without question in that camp.

I love MOME, but I feel like the world could love it too, if it didn't feel so much like something you needed to get in on the ground floor to fully understand and enjoy. I'd like to see Fantagraphics apply some knob-twisting to make each new volume feel like an event unto itself, with maybe one or two more articles complimenting the interviews, and perhaps less serialized pieces and more standalone works of genuine wonder, like this issue's "Stick and Stone" by Eleanor Davis.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 2:11 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 1 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Reading Comics -- This new hardcover by Douglas Wolk is probably more a book you'd want to sample from your local library before you decide to lay out real cash for it. I think his intentions are probably sincere, but the ultimate product seems more like an opportunity to profit from the current and growing interest in graphic novels than any kind of paradigm-shifting insight into the artform.

Wolk's tastes are pretty close to mine when it comes to what he likes in comics, so I was surprised by how often I found my contrarian hackles were raised by his writing. I found his occasionally awkward or bizarre phrasing a genuine annoyance, and I don't think the book at all rises to its stated goal of explaining "how graphic novels work and what they mean." There's definitely room for a prose version of Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, I think, but Reading Comics is not it.

Fully half the book is reviews of specific works, a lot of which is reworked from previous publications -- as if there just wasn't enough stuff in his head to fulfill the book's stated remit, so the "best-ofs" get dragged off his hard-drive to pad out the second half of the book. And a lot of those essays are worth reading, but they get in the way of what the book sets out to do.

I was a bit disgusted to see how fully involved Wolk was in the ridiculous "Jess Lemon" fraud that was perpetrated on the comics internet a few years ago. He goes into painful, self-satisfied detail about that sorry incident. Not that the fanboys Wolk and Heidi McDonald were tweaking didn't have it coming, but more that there was an opportunity there to enlighten some truly ignorant superhero comic book readers, and instead they just fucked with some pathetic fanboys to their own amusement. I hadn't known Wolk was in on it, but I have had pretty much zero respect for Heidi McDonald ever since, and now Wolk can join in that rarefied number.

Most off-putting of all is the marketing of the book as "The first serious, readable, provocative, canon-smashing book of comics criticism by the leading critic in the field." It's none of those things other than readable (pretty much the baseline for what you'd expect from any book, no?), and most exasperatingly, Wolk is very, very far from the leading critic in the field. Tom Spurgeon, R.C. Harvey, Bob Levin, Chris Allen, Christopher Butcher, Rob Vollmar and Jog all come immediately to mind as far better writers and more nuanced critics of comics and graphic novels. There are probably more good and persuasive reviews of comics in any single issue of The Comics Journal from the past three years than in the entirety of Reading Comics.

There are portions of the book that make it worth a read, but overall it feels undercooked and over-hyped, and I had hoped for far better. If you're interested, proceed with caution and prepare to be underwhelmed.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 11:16 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 1 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Nine Graphic Novels to Read Before You Die -- It can be daunting, browsing your graphic novel collection in, say, your 40s, and wondering where they'll go when you die. In my head, I know which ones I would like my daughter to have, and my son. And which ones I would like send to which friends, and which ones I hope my wife will finally take a look at.

I've been reading comics since 1972, and the first time I acquired what we would now call a graphic novel was just six or seven years later. I'm brutally selective in what goes on my bookshelves, which is why I only have about 700 graphic novels at the moment, despite at one time or another probably owning five times that many.

If I read it and am certain it will be a lifelong joy to revisit its pleasures, onto the shelves it goes. If I read it and don't find much -- or any -- value in it, chances are it ends up in someone else's hands sooner, rather than later.

Few graphic novels have been so godawfully egregious that I actually throw them away -- books called "Tozzer" and "Americanjism" come to mind as ones that I despised and was certain no one else would find of value, either, so in the trash they went. But usually I am certain someone will get some pleasure out of even most books I don't much care for, which is why I end up giving away, trading or selling books that don't make the cut into my permanent graphic novel library.

I don't know if you're like me. I don't know if you have given this much thought into which graphic novels you own or have read. But I do know this: There are nine graphic novels you should indisputably read before you die. And here they are.

* The Filth. As recently as yesterday, I noticed an article on a popular comic book website claiming this -- one of Grant Morrison's very best and most mind-expanding works -- is "difficult to read." Bullshit. Start at the top left of page one, and make your way to the bottom right. Repeat until you're finished. It's fucking brilliant, and worth the time it takes to let it immerse itself into your consciousness.

* We3. Getting all the Morrison right out of the way up front, We3 is a gorgeous and thoughtful rumination on man's relationship to, stewardship of, and abuse toward our fellow inhabitants of Earth.

* Book of Leviathan. You'll find a lot of intelligent comics critics recommending this one, even though you may very well never have heard of it. Once you read it, you will never forget it.

* David Boring. Much more than the oddball mystery it appears at first glance, David Boring is one of Clowes's most dense and rewarding stories, and also paradoxically one of his most straightforward. You just have to pay attention.

* Diary of a Teenage Girl. If I could ask you to read only one book on this list, this is the one that I'd ask you to read. It will change the way you think about relationships and sexuality, and also demonstrate just how powerful comics can be as a storytelling medium.

* Fantastic Butterflies. James Kochalka says he probably won't do more longform graphic novels like this one, which is sort of an extended version of his American Elf daily diary comic strips. It's also one of his most entertaining and impressive graphic novels.

* Jays Days: Rise and Fall of the Pasta Shop Lothario. Jason Marcy is one of the most blunt and insightful autobiographical cartoonists alive today, and this is the book of his that you should read, if you only try one.

* The Journal Comic. Drew Weing was my favourite webcomics cartoonist during the time he was producing these strips. I wish he'd kept it up.

* The Ticking. Renee French contains multitudes within her talent, from eerie mindfucks to sincere and graceful children's books. The Ticking is her most definitive work (so far), and a true masterpiece of comic art.

There are graphic novels that are more accomplished, beautiful or in some other way more outstanding than at least some on this list, but these are nine books that I honestly think are under-appreciated, under-read and under-discussed. All of them deserve your time and attention, and I'd be surprised if you didn't enjoy all of them a great deal. If you decide to sample some of the books on the list, please e-mail me and let me know what you think of what you find within their pages.

Labels: lists, recommendations, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 10:21 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Thor #1 -- At least two moments in the opening pages of this first issue will remind you of Mark Waid and Alex Ross's Kingdom Come, but in all fairness to the creators of this new attempt to make a comic book about the Norse god of thunder work, Waid and Ross stole Ragnarök from Norse mythology more than Straczynski and Coipel are stealing from Kingdom Come.

Of course, Ross's best artwork had the proper sense of majesty to convey something of the enormity of a war between gods (or god-like beings), while Coipel's generic craftwork conveys precisely the fact that Marvel has a monthly series about Thor again, and here's an issue of it.

Any reader who rankled at the mystic hooey in Straczynski's dire Amazing Spider-Man run will be surprised only at how much further said hooey is ratcheted up in Thor #1. You'd think the character and milieu would easily accommodate such baloney, and perhaps it might, if it were not of the vague variety Straczynski hauls out to coax Thor from out of the narrative mothballs he's been in for the past however-long-he's-been-"dead." Lots of mumbo-jumbo between Thor and (I guess) Don Blake as they stand amidst the generic swirly-stuff of the void (Mr. Coipel, you're no Gene Colan when it comes to generic swirly-stuff) chit-chatting about how Thor has freed himself from the cycle of Ragnarök and is now free to rock out with his hammer out all the live long day, and by the way, all your presumed-dead supporting characters friends are just waiting for you to wish them back out of the cornfield.

Once Blake and Thor return to Earth, Straczynski shows us how clever he is by having a woman Blake rents a room from note that "Weatherman says we're expecting a thunderstorm." Blake grins and says "I wouldn't be at all surprised." Yikes. The era in which Straczynski was able to create genuine tension and humour in his characters -- around the second and third seasons of Babylon 5, frankly -- seem far, far away from what he delivers here. Well, a straight-to-DVD B5 release is pending; maybe he saved his good stuff for that.

The final page of this debut issue (with "to be continued" on it and everything) has to be the least-compelling cliffhanger I think I have ever seen in a superhero comic. No stakes are raised, no mysteries are offered, and unless one has been powerfully seduced by this most average of stories, it's almost impossible to imagine anyone saying to themselves "Man, what happensnext?"

Varying eras of Thor have risen and fallen in quality, as is true of any corporate superhero franchise unwinding over decades. The best-written was almost certainly also the best drawn, when Walt Simonson was following his bliss on the title in the 1980s. But Dan Jurgens's stories a few years back were serviceable, and certainly Mike McKone and Tom Raney delivered much better art than the thunder god enjoyed since Simonson's storied run ended so long ago.

This first issue delivers none of those pleasures, though -- both story and art feel uninspired and painfully, joylessly mediocre. Despite the sales figures of their other recent Marvel work, ultimately neither Straczynski or Coipel are much more than slightly-above-average talents when it comes to the creation of corporate superhero comics circa 2007. So you'd have liked to think they would have brought their very best efforts to the table in re-launching a key Marvel series, with the added bonus of a more-or-less blank slate upon which to make their mark. Instead, they deliver a run-of-the-mill effort that is impressive only in how mightily it fails to impress.

Labels: corporate comics, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 5:41 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
Green Lantern: Sinestro Corps Special #1 -- You won't find a slicker, more vapid superpeople comic on the stands this month than this one. It's created by Geoff Johns, Ethan Van Sciver, and -- this gives me pause -- Dave Gibbons, who I would have hoped could find better things to do with his gifts than this. Johns and Van Sciver, I expect this sort of thing from. And in fairness to Van Sciver, his style here -- aping George Perez more than his previous style of aping Brian Bolland -- seems to find him more comfortable. The work reads as more of a natural outflowing of his talent. It's just too bad it's all in service of such garbage.

Oh, dear. Where to begin? Oh, that's right, I remember -- Johns said it all for me, right on page one:

"We live in a place rotting with hedonism and chaos. A place untamed and morally devoid. A place of darkness."

Johns's writing always reminds me of an 8-year-old playing in the tub, making up stories with his action figures as he neglects to wash his ass. Here, Geoff brings his entire collection of abused DC trademarks -- action figures, from the Anti-Monitor and the Reverse Flash to -- of course -- Superboy Prime. Yes, kids, if Infinite Crisis wasn't a big enough waste of time, money and mis-allocated creative effort, here's pretty much the direct sequel. This death-obsessed continuity porn is all that's left of the goddamned DC Universe proper, isn't it?

Ach, the plot.

Sinestro wants revenge, or something; a bunch of power rings are flying through the universe, which always seems a small -- tiny place, in the hands of unimaginative writers like Johns; the "secret of the 52" is invoked, and I discover my goosebumps-generator must be on the fritz, 'cause I got nothin'. What else? Hank Henshaw The Evil Cyborg Superman Fooled Ya Folks is back, in the custody of The Guardians of Oa, who were all far better off dead. All the GLs we all love so much get together for a family picnic. Here's Hal, John, Kyle and Guy, all hanging out and even giving each other noogies. I bet you think I'm making that up, don't you? One supposes Johns writes such scenes and thinks he's developing character.

Anyway, during the big picnic all of a sudden "We got a sniper!" and it's the grassy knoll all over again for the Green Lantern Corps. All your favourite Lanterns get a moment in the "spotlight" and then "OH SHIT EVIL SUPERBOY PRIME HAS ESCAPE THE TUB -- I MEAN, HIS 'SCIENCELL!'" What will happen next?!?

Well, as you may recall from the abominable Green Lantern: Rebirth, YELLOW IS THE COLOUR OF EVIL and also PEE. And bananas, this shit is bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s. Now Kyle Raynor is all Parallaxed (FANGASM!!!111!) up, and then Dave Gibbons draws a Johns-written back-up story that is far more readable than it has any right to be, based solely on the power of Gibbons' artwork and the goodwill far better stories than this have earned his work.

Just to compare two spectacular corporate superhero events taking place this summer, World War Hulk went a ways toward mending my loathing for the current state of the Marvel Universe by telling a tight, logical story that intrigued me enough to want to read the rest of it. Green Lantern: Sinestro Corps Special #1, on the other hand, is a ham-handed, undercooked bunch of baloney that obviously took a great deal of misplaced effort to create. If I had one wish for corporate superhero comics, it would be that Geoff Johns's mother had never let him take his action figures into the tub.

Labels: corporate comics, reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 6:47 PM [LINK TO THIS] | 1 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
The Boys #8 -- Nuance isn't a word that immediately comes to mind when pondering The Boys, and yet this issue has plenty. A seemingly minor character bit about Hughie's distaste for Butcher's use of anti-gay terminology pays off later in the issue with a sequence that tells us a great deal about the two characters (and the series in general). The Boys is wicked fun, yes, but it's also Ennis and Robertson thoughtfully exploring the characters they've populated the title with.

Even the Tek Knight seems sympathetic to a degree here; he made his debut last issue with a disgusting and outrageously funny personal problem that was getting in the way of his superheroing; in this second part of that story, we see the mystery of his distress deepen, even as we witness the funniest "Superhero's Butler Gives His Notice" scene that you will ever see. You've never, ever look at Jarvis or Alfred in quite the same way.

It's gratifying that Ennis and Robertson are able bring so many emotions to the story -- it's clever and witty and dirty as hell, yes, but the superhero avatars resonate strongly and breathe all on their own. They're satire, but they ring true as characters, and that makes the world of The Boys a deeper and richer reading experience than I had expected when the series first debuted. The storytelling is confident and bold, and the more I get to know these people, the more effective the overall narrative becomes. The Boys, published by Dynamite Entertainment, is probably the best team superhero book being published at the moment. A moment in which, perhaps not coincidentally, Marvel and DC have mostly abandoned readers looking for quality in their superhero comics.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 5:08 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
A Cappella -- Texas cartoonist Christine Pointeau has created two issues of A Cappella, which aims to explore the self through the intersection of whimsy, surreality, and mythology.

There's an irksome pomposity to the proceedings, an earnest and obvious belief that this is important stuff. And while such aphorisms as "open your heart to people," "thoughts create form," and "never apologize for love," might seem profound, they can also seem trite; and here, out of the mouth of a talking turtle lecturing Pointeau's cartoon avatar on her areas in need of improvement, they seem most of all like leftovers from Yoda's Book of Do, Things You Should.

Each page of both A Cappella: When Are You Coming Home and A Cappella: Open Heart is a full-page image, so the cumulative effect is more storybook than comics. There are arresting techniques here and there, but overall there's a wearying sameness to the depictions of our wandering heroine in her various ethereal environments. And to paraphrase Huxley vis a vis God and beetles, Pointeau seems to have an inordinate affection for drawing feet. Which, at least, puts her ahead of Rob Liefeld.

In the end I didn't much care for these efforts, although a reader with more appetite for whimsical fantasy elements than I might find value in them. If you crave the comics of Jennifer Daydreamer or those found in the Flight anthologies, A Cappella might work for you.

Labels: reviews

// posted by Alan David Doane @ 7:42 AM [LINK TO THIS] | 0 COMMENTS | E-MAIL ADD | SUBSCRIBE

 
The Highwaymen #1 -- Perhaps sensing what a creative loss it is for the excellent series Planetary to be mostly over (writer Warren Ellis says the final issue is written, but it's allegedly a PS to the already-concluded main story), Wildstorm inflicts this shoddy effort upon the world.

Conspiracies abound and a droll old guy in a white suit leads an effort to uncover the hidden BS that will be far less interesting than anything Ellis cooks up for the final issue of his far superior series. Highwayman guy in white suit, I knew Elijah Snow; you, sir, are no Elijah Snow.

An image here or there echoes Frank Quitely -- the lumpy visage of President Bill Clinton looks swiped straight from Quitely's first issue of The Authority, but for the most part the art here is rubbery and unimpressive and as dull as the story. Check out the fourth page from the end's final panel for the most blatant Planetary nod.

I found nothing to like about this first issue at all, from the generic cover art to the painfully forced "banter" between Elijah -- I mean, the white-suited Highwayman, and his reluctant partner. It all takes place in the future, at the request of long-dead President Bubba via video file, and it all has been done far better before. Save yourself the three