A Little Nonsense

(Chinese) New Year Resolution

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Farrell) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 04:59:00 +0000

Well, not quite, but I'm closer to that than to the Western new year, so it'll have to do.

I'm an accumulator, always have been. Not a collector necessarily; rarely do I buy anything with value in mind. As a kid with no money I accumulated things like matchbooks and stamps. As an adult it's comics. I can never get enough. There's always another book or three that I've just "got" to have. As many fellow accumulators can readily attest, this quickly leads to shelves or boxes or stacks (or all three) of unread comics in every form surrounding me, taunting me. I want to read them all, I really do. But that new graphic novel is just so tempting...

As part of my Christmas gifts, I received a nice chunk of Amazon credit, and true to form, I spent most of it on comics. I could easily justify that by the fact that I wasn't spending money on them, not really. The money had already been spent; I was just converting a piece of plastic into pages of graphical goodness.

That done, it's time to read. I'm not going to pretend that my accumulation is going to stop completely, but I am vowing to ride the brake, and most importantly, to read them faster than I get them. I've gotten off to a decent start so far: I've read Habibi (mesmerizing), Infinite Kung Fu (fun), The Marvelous Land of Oz (pleasantly old-fashioned), and various miscellaneous issues. I have a long way to go, and in the time honored tradition of putting these goals in writing and making them (somewhat) public, here's a bunch more that I want to get to soonish:

Duncan the Wonder Dog - I've actually already started this monster. Dense and fascinating, I'm going to take my time with this one.

Big Questions - Not right after Duncan, though. I can only take so much philosophy before my puny brain implodes. Really looking forward to it. Anders Nilsen is a genius.

Bad Island - One of my Amazon acquisitions. I read all of TenNapel's books and he rarely lets me down.

Petrograd and Two Generals - Love me some historical fiction, and the reputation and pedigree of both of these books are top notch.

Unwritten, Chew, Morning Glories, Hack/Slash, Scalped and too many more to count - Not books or collections, these are among the many series I've been buying in single issues but, as usual, got way behind on.

Box Office Poison - Yep, all of it. I've had this practically since the day I finished Tricked...several years ago. Sigh. Robinson's comics are meatier than most, but they are also compulsively readable. Should take me slightly less than forever.

That's the tip of the iceberg, but good enough for now. It's daunting, but at the same time, I feel pretty lucky to have so much AAA material to look forward to. Comics: the hobby that keeps on giving. Unless you're talking about money, in which case, substitute taking. Hopefully just not as much from me as usual.

Dumb comic marketing!

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 14:31:00 +0000

Like a lot of comic fans, I have 4-5 comic news sources in my RSS feed: iFanboy, Comic Book Resources, Bleeding Cool, Newsarama, ComicVine, IGN, etc.

One thing I laugh at is when most of them run the same 5-6 preview pages for an upcoming comic because the level of "journalism" there is merely repasting something sent to you by the Marvel/DC/Image PR and Marketing group. My first thought is always, "Fellas....how about create some original content for your readers instead of regurgitating something that everyone else is also publishing." Honestly, it's like a bucket brigade for those pages: letterer to editor to marketing to press release to release on the web.

But....how lame is the 5-6 page preview to begin with?

What other entertainment medium markets itself this way? Imagine if instead of seeing the AWESOME trailer for the Hobbit movie, the movie studio just sent out the first 90 seconds of the finished film. Wouldn't that suck? Same thing with TV: When they show those "scenes from next week's episode" what if they just showed us the first 15 seconds of the episode? Again....that would suck.

As far as I know, novels aren't marketed this way either: "Here's the first paragraph. Enjoy!"

Sure it would be a SMALL amount of work for a company like Marvel, but why not rip out 4-5 juicy panels (tell the colorist and letterer to finish those panels first) from the next issue and splice them together like a movie trailer? Or does that make too much sense?

- Dean Stell

[Note: I don't want to hear that the problem is that the issues are barely getting done in time and that maybe the first 5 pages is all they've got. That's just a business operations problem and is addressable by better management.]

Digital "driving readers to print"?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 07 Dec 2011 11:00:00 +0000

The big publishers pay a lot of lip service to their expanding digital offerings "driving new fans into the comic shops". You wonder if they actually believe that this works. Personally, I have a very hard time seeing a new comic fan who was first exposed to comics digitally saying, "I hear those comic shops are full of single men! I must seek one out and buy products made out of dead trees!"

Can't imagine that'll happen very much. There'll be a LOT more migration in the other direction as some fans who bought paper comics begin to desire digital for it's better organization, portability and lack of clutter. I'm certainly in that second camp.

But, I have found an area where digital-to-print works pretty well: GI Joe comics. Let me explain a bit because there are two things at play here. One is that the current GI Joe comics are pretty damn good. This Cobra Civil War story is great stuff!

However, the thing that is pushing me to print has more to do with the fact that GI Joe is a licensed property. In my lifetime, GI Joe comics have been marketed by a few different publishers: Marvel, Devil's Due/Image and now IDW. Can you buy those old Marvel issues on the Marvel iOS app? Nope! Does Marvel put out a GI Joe Omnibus? Nope! IDW has published collections of the old Marvel series because they now have the license.

Do you think that IDW will have the GI Joe license forever?

History would say that the GI Joe license will probably move to another publisher at some point in time. Most licensed comic properties DO move around over the years: Star Wars, Transformers, Vampirella, Red Sonja, Star Trek, Ghostbusters, John Carter, Green Hornet, etc.

So, if you buy all of your GI Joe comics on the IDW app now, it's very unlikely that you'd be able to access them if/when IDW loses the GI Joe license. I know this is technically a threat with any of these iOS apps, but I personally have a hard time seeing Marvel tell you that you can't have those old issues of Amazing Spider-Man that you bought on the Marvel app (although I could see that happening if you buy on the Comixology or Graphic.ly apps). The license probably stipulates that IDW would have to stop using the GI Joe trademarks and physically hand over all the published content to the owner of GI Joe.

Thus, if you want to actually have these GI Joe stories and keep them, you're probably going to have to have physical possession of them and that's going to mean paper comic books!

- Dean Stell

Nostalgia as an older person?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 04 Dec 2011 16:10:00 +0000

I've recently had an interesting experience in my comic reading. I read all the X-Men comics. From the sales numbers, there seem to be about 35,000 of us out there who will read any additional title that says, "X-Men" on the cover.

Didn't they forget a few of these story lines?

So, of course, I've been reading Uncanny X-Force by Rick Remender and (sometimes) Jerome Opena. The comic is getting a TON of positive press from the blogosphere. "Best comic being published by Marvel right now" is a common refrain. And that puts me in a funny position because I think it's okay, but I hardly think it's the best thing being published by Marvel (that would be Amazing Spider-Man).

However, I've noticed that the guys who LOVE X-Force are all a little younger than me. They were reading comics when the original Age of Apocalypse when it came out in 1995. I wasn't reading comics at the time. I was mostly into using my new legal drinking status to buy drinks for for attractive young ladies. Since I "returned to comics" a few years back, I've read AoA and I think it's a fine X-story, but reading a old story as a grown-ass man is different because AoA will never be connected to some of those wonderful memories that we all have from our teenage years.

Aww yeah!

That's not to say that I'm immune to nostalgia. Sticking with X-Men theme, my very first comic off the rack was Uncanny X-Men #162, so I have a tremendous soft spot for The Brood or the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants or other early/mid 1980's stories like Secret Wars and Spidey's black costume (before it turned into Venom). Put any of those things in a comic book and I'm likely to start calling it "the best thing published by Marvel". That's just how nostalgia works.

This has made me a little concerned about my enjoyment of superhero comics going forward because they're mostly written by guys who are younger than me. What if they ALL begin to be rooted in mid-90's nostalgia? Will there be anything left for me to enjoy in the superhero world? And, is that all that superhero comics are for us adults: nostalgia? Or can they actually be intrinsically good?

But another part of me wonders if I'm still reading comics in 30 years, will I get the same nostalgia rush when future writers call back to some of the great stories of 2010. What if there's some kid out there who is just LOVING Scott Snyder's Batman stories or Jonathan Hickman's SHIELD? Will nostalgia still happen the same way when a future writer uses James Gordon, Jr. as I do now when I see a comic book that features the Brood?

I'm actually optimistic I still have the ability to form the basis for nostalgia. It seems like nostalgia works best for things you enjoyed as a kid, but talk to your parents and grandparents and you'll find they have a LOT of things from their 30's and 40's to be nostalgia about. It's just that those memories will be tied up in things related to my job or my family rather than crazy stuff I did with my friends when I was 16 (seriously...you have no idea).

Let's just hope that no kids dig up Fear Itself in the year 2035. That'll suck.

- Dean Stell

It Came From the Long Box! -- Secrets of House Sinster #6

noreply@blogger.com (zack kruse) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 21:08:00 +0000

Secrets of House Sinister #6
cover by Mike Kaluta

I’m fortunate enough to have a comics collection that is widely varied in its tenor and genre, and when I dig through it, I’ve always got a great chance to find something that is both a lot of fun and something that I haven’t read in a while. Last night, while I was trying to reorganize some things, I came across Secrets of House Sinister #6. It’s a recent acquisition, and I had not had a chance to read it up to that point, but I dug into it this morning and had a lot of fun with it.

There’s something wonderful about horror comics, particularly those of a certain era. Naturally, there are those wonderful pre-code horror comics from EC, Charlton, and the like. But there’s another era that is of equal greatness, if not of equal importance, that era is the one that was given it’s vigor in the 1960s by Warren publishing and its Creepy, Eerie, Vampirella, and other magazines. Regardless of precise publication date, it’s the braveness of Warren, in my opinion, that made horror comics once again welcomed in the mainstream market place again and helped reinvigorate Charlton’s horror line and allowed for DC’s House of Mystery, House of Secrets, The Witching Hour, a whole host of other titles from DC and Marvel, and, in particular, the subject of this review: Secrets of House Sinister.

For the uninitiated, Secrets of House Sinister is a sibling book to DC’s House of Mystery and House of Secrets. Like it’s predecessors at DC’s other houses—and, indeed, it’s inspiration at EC, Charlton, and Warren—Sinster is an anthology that is hosted by an unsettling looking individual of mysterious and possibly supernatural origin. In this case it is the matron of House Sinister, a witch named Eve; a creature so ghastly that even her contemporaries, and cousins, Abel and Cain (the hosts of House of Mystery and House of Secrets, respectively) are disturbed by her. Terrifying, no?

Previously called The Sinister House of Secret Love issues #1-4, it’s difficult to argue that Sinister House is on par with its predecessors, or even many of its contemporaries, but it certainly has its moments and had the participation of some terrific talents…many of whom were a part of comics’ Philippine Invasion of the 1970s. Some of the more note worthy creators who participated in the series were Neal Adams, Alex Niño, Michael Kaluta, Robert Kanigher, and Alfredo Alcala. The series was bi-monthly and relatively short-lived; it only lasted through issue #18.

Issue #6 features a terrific cover by Mike Kaluta, and stories written by Sheldon Mayer, John Albano, and Robert Kanigher; with art by Alfredo Alcala, Ed Ramos & Mar Amingo, and Bill Draut, respectively.

The issue’s first story, “When is Tomorrow Yesterday?”, features the team of Sheldon Mayer and Alfredo Alcala. The story itself is well-written, but is very much carried by Alcala’s superior artwork. The tale is one of a time of princesses, paupers, wizards, and plagues. After an unnecessary bloodletting orchestrated by a jealous relative, a young princess is tossed onto a death cart to be dumped in anonymous mass grave.

Words: Mayer
Art: Alcala

The not-quite-dead princess is rescued by a prince, that we later discover is her lover and fiancée, and is rushed to a mysterious wizard who has attained special knowledge, from what he believes is the future, on how to heal certain diseases. He opens a portal into the wonderous world of 1972, where the rescuer takes the princess so that she may receive the plasma transfusion that will save her life.

The princess is saved, but the wizard’s secret time travel spell is discovered by the princess’s enemies, who also travel to 1972 where they believe they will be rich and live forever…it’s not certain why they think they will live forever, but they do have a bag of jewels.

The tale concludes with the reader wondering what really is the past and what is the future, and carries some ominous, if not clichéd, warnings about the coming of World War III.

It’s really Alacala’s artwork that makes this a standout. In the hands of a less capable artist, this story would just be okay and probably pretty forgettable. Alaca’s pen really elevates it to something that is worth tracking down. I’m not quite certain if it’s just the costumes or if it’s some kind of homage, but Alcala’s work here has a very Hal Foster-esque vibe to it that really sells the story and makes standard-twist ending much more interesting.

Skipping the middle story, the third story in this issue is called “The Man Hater” was written by Robert Kanigher and drawn by Bill Draut. First, I have to confess that Bob Kanigher is one of my favorite Bronze Age writers so I went into this story assuming that I would enjoy it, and I did. Bill Draut’s artwork is well done.

The story is about a young woman named Valla. As a young girl, Valla was spurned by her father. Because her father refused to love and accept her, she decided to murder him and she spent the rest of her days as a black widow—murdering any man who was foolish enough to show her affection and marry her.

Words: Kanigher
Art: Draut

For reasons unknown, after the murder of her first husband, Valla visits a guru in New York (no, we don’t know what kind of guru, he’s just a generic guru). The guru tells her that, in a past life, Valla was once a princess and that she would be visiting the guru again in the near future.

After the murder of her third husband, Valla visits the guru once more…this time she’s on the run from what we assume are detectives that have grown suspicious of her. The guru agrees to accommodate her and secrets her away by tying her to a chair with magical ropes that transported her back to her previous life as a princess. But will the guru’s magic allow her to escape the justice that she deserves?

I really liked this story quite a bit. It wasn’t the best thing that Kanigher’s ever written by any stretch of the imagination, but it was good. It hit the right beats and offered readers the kind of ending that they both expect and want from this type of story in this type of comic. Draut’s work served the story well; although it was not particularly innovative or exciting, it certainly fit within the standards of the day and was very well rendered.

I really liked this issue of Secrets of House Sinister, much more than I thought I would. Although I don’t think that the issue lives up to the high bar set by its predecessors and cousins, it’s certainly more than worth tracking down, and should be inexpensively obtainable. Really, it’s worth tracking down for the contributions of Alcala and Kannigher alone. If horror comics neophytes encounter this book, they should use it as an excuse to go back and seek out its contemporaries at DC and Warren to see what the this era of the genre really has to offer.

Secrets of House Sinister #6

September 1971

SRP: 20¢

DC Comics

I see nothing wrong with Prequel-Watchmen. Here’s Why.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 02 Dec 2011 03:45:00 +0000

OK let’s get this out of the way – yeah, it’s a money grab, Yadda, yadda, yadda. But it’s not like Alan Moore created the original characters The Watchmen were based on. Remember these were Charlton Heroes of the 1960′s – a few of which Steve Ditko created. How is that any different from Alan Scott or Jay Garrick being re-imaged into the Silver Age Green Lantern and Flash? Could it be said that Moore did the money grab first?

I love Watchmen and their, unexplored, rich history. This could be a fun sandbox that today’s gifted artists and writers can play in. Comic book characters, and all fictional characters for that matter, should be shared and explored once and again for every generation and not lie dormant so uppity purists like The Simpson’s Comic Book Guy can lament about the Golden Age of 1985. The Watchmen belong to us fans now. If you don’t like it, fine. Don’t read it. But don’t tell me it’s going to suck. Not just yet, anyway.

Who knows what a new Watchmen comic will bring? Brubaker on Rorschach? Johns on Dr. Manhattan?

Just be glad Stan Lee isn’t still on X-Men.

-reposted from Collected Comics Library

Genre comics & superheroes

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 21 Nov 2011 16:37:00 +0000

"Why can't we have more non-superhero work from Marvel and DC?"

That's a common refrain that you'll see on any comic book message board. The Big 2 make a living on superhero comics, but why can't we get more material like war comics or westerns or crime comics?

A few months ago, it seemed like the publishers might be listening. One of the comics I was looking forward to most among the new DC52 was Men of War and they had a sexy sounding western title called All-Star Western. Marvel got in on the act with the recently released Six Guns, which seemed to be a modern-day western.

But, all of these new series have fallen very flat for me because they are still tied to their respective superhero universes. Men of War tells the story of what it's like to be a solider in a world with superheroes. All-Star Western puts Jonah Hex in fricking Gotham City. And Six Guns features bikers and bounty hunters dealing with D-list Marvel heroes and villains.

All of these comics are well written and well drawn, but I lost interest the second I saw that they contained superheroes.

Granted, once you get away from the Big 2, the world is your oyster if you want a non-superhero comic book, but why can't the Big 2 use their financial muscle and access to talent to make it a little better.

How about you? Do you like having a helping of superhero in your genre comics?

- Dean Stell

Things To Not Worry About: Creators' Social & Political Opinions

noreply@blogger.com (zack kruse) — Fri, 18 Nov 2011 18:29:00 +0000

Over the past week or so, there have been a lot of forceful, and occasionally angry, opinions posted across the internet about the thoughts and opinions that comic creators choose to espouse. Frankly, I found the initial outrage ridiculous and hardly worthy of much attention at all. The outrage I’m speaking of, of course, is the response to Frank Miller’s blog post regarding the Occupy Movement; a movement that is sweeping the country and bringing all kinds of like-minded folks to the streets to protest and attempt to stand against what they feel is political, social, and economic injustice. My views on the movement are a bit complicated and absolutely not worth discussing here—particularly as they are irrelevant to this discussion. What encouraged this post is a point that was raised on the 11 O’Clock Comics message board. On the board the following question was posed: Can you separate artists from their art? That is, does your personal opinion of an artist affect whether or not you are able enjoy his or her work?

So here’s my position: I don’t care. Not even a little bit. If I got all flibbity gibbet every time someone famous espoused a political, economic, social, or religious view that was different from me, I wouldn’t be able to watch TV, read books, watch any movies, or listen to nearly any music ever…except for maybe Rush…and that's a big maybe.

It’s flat out unimportant. It doesn’t change my opinion on anything and it doesn’t necessarily diminish my opinion of said famous person…either within the context of their work or with them as people. Neal Adams’ disbelief in the laws of physics doesn’t diminish his amazing body of work. John Byrne’s general attitude and demeanor doesn’t take anything away from the brilliance of his Fantastic Four or Alpha Flight work. The fact that Vincent Van Gogh was a drunk and sliced off part of his ear, doesn’t make Starry Night less of a masterpiece. The same line of thinking can be applied to Dave Sim as well. The list of creative-types who abrasively air their opinions is nearly endless. It doesn’t change a single thing. Their work is their work and their talent is their talent, their ability is not shaped by which box they check in the voting both or what religion the adhere to, or whether or not they eat meat. None of it matters to anyone.

If your favorite basketball player was Michael Jordan, and you found out that Jordan harbored a political opinion different from yours, would that in any way diminish his ability as a basketball player? Would it render all of his achievements moot? Of course not! That’s absurd and no one really thinks that way. So why would it be any different for a creative professional?

Look. People disagree. Sometimes when people disagree one or both of them speak in flamboyant, emotional, and hyperbolic terms. So what? Welcome to Thanksgiving dinner at my aunt’s house.

The fact is that we’re all free to buy or not buy anything that we want for whatever reasons we choose. But guess what? Nobody cares about those things either. The only reasons that any of us really care about are our own.

The only thing that has ever made me stop supporting a person’s work is when they are or were directly, physically or financially, harming other people. That’s the only criteria I have and, frankly, I think it’s the one that is the most reasonable. It’s the most reasonable one because, again, if we all stopped enjoying creators’ work because of their political (or other) opinions, then there wouldn’t be much left to enjoy. It’s a silly notion and it only comes up when someone particularly noteworthy gets particularly mouthy…any other day of the week this conversation doesn’t happen and no one thinks twice about this.

How rarely do we think about these things, you may ask. Consider this: how many people said the same thing about Miller when he made extraordinarily similar comments a few years back on NPR? Remember that? People got all flibbity gibbet then, too. Turns out most people didn’t care enough about it to stop buying his work. They didn’t even care enough to remember…why? Because, outside of their initial outrage, the righteous indignation, and posturing that they put forth on the internet, they really weren’t offended and it didn’t stop people from enjoying his work. It’s just wasn’t a big deal.

Miller didn’t rape anyone, he didn’t assault anyone, and he didn’t steal from anyone. He has a political opinion that goes against the grain of what many members of the comics community have, and he put forth that opinion in a cranky, curmudgeonly manner. Big whoop.

What makes this even sillier is the fact that, if Miller had said something similar that was in support of the Occupy Movement, in an equally cranky or curmudgeonly manner, there’s no way that we would be having this conversation (again).

I don’t necessarily agree with all of what Frank said or how he said it…but I really can’t be bothered to worry about it either. It doesn’t make his work from the ‘70s to the ‘90s any less brilliant, and it doesn’t make the Spirit movie any better (or good), it has zero impact on those things. The only impact it can possibly have is the one that we, as individuals, psychologically impose on it.

What is difference of opinion and what is "wrong"?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 12:47:00 +0000

Interesting things happen when you interact with the public, especially when you interact with the comic book public and talk about things like art in comic books.

As some followers know, I write reviews for 7-8 current comics every week at www.weeklycomicbookreview.com. It's a fun thing to do and I think it has made me a better comic reader because I'm constantly trying to think of ways to put into words what a comic makes me feel.

But, you see some interesting things in the comment thread.... And, I LOVE our comment thread. There's no better feeling that knowing that something you wrote caused someone to spend some of their time interacting back, so I always try to respond to everyone on our threads.

Ordinarily, I think comics should be a no arguing zone. I mean....when I think of the people who get into fist-shaking rages over comic book arguments, I feel kinda the way Allen Iverson used to feel about "practice". My attitude is usually, "C'mon....we're arguing about comic books! Are you fricking kidding me??"

And, you'll see that attitude on most of the "feel good" internet comic forums: Hey! We're all entitled to our opinions!

But....what if their opinion is legitimately dumb?

Or....think of it another way......should everyone's opinion have equal weight?

In the comic community, you occasionally run into dudes who honestly prefer the artwork of Greg Land to that of Terry Dodson? Or who read the new X-Men comics the last couple of weeks and said that Carlos Pacheco did a better job in Uncanny X-Men #1 than Chris Bachalo did in Wolverine and the X-Men #1? Or, stepping away from art..... There are fans who are legitimately happy that Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson might be getting back together even though we've been seeing them break up and get back together for almost 50 years!

Ya know....sometimes these folks are just wrong. They're entitled to their opinion and no one is going to suggest that they "shut up", but they're wrong and their opinions shouldn't have equal value.

I'm a huge fan of analogies, so let's compare to food. We've all known adults with weird dietary preferences like eating chicken fingers for dinner every night. I'm not much better than chicken-finger-dude. Although I've eaten just about every type of food imaginable and dined in fine restaurants everywhere, I honestly think that it doesn't get any better than a good cheeseburger. That's my opinion and I'm entitled to it. But.....it has a downside. One, I realize that it makes me weird and that while almost everyone likes cheeseburgers, no one likes them as much as I do. Two, when a new French restaurant opens in town and my wife and I eat there, people aren't very interested in my opinion of the food because they know about the cheeseburgers. Finally, when you're a little out-of-step, it is normal that people are going to try to broaden your horizons. Most of my good friends have kinda stopped pestering (after going to a Thai restaurant with me 30 times, seeing me eat everything on the menu and realizing that I still prefer cheeseburgers usually while muttering something about that "Fucking weirdo..."), but it comes with the territory.

I guess the point is that even though we're all entitled to our opinions some of our opinions are so wrong or weird that they kinda disqualify us from having any weight in a discussion. And, that we as comic fans shouldn't be quite as shy about trying to change the opinions of these poor souls. We might not be able to change their opinion, but there's nothing wrong with thinking that they are weirdos.

- Dean Stell

REVIEW: Dinopopolous

noreply@blogger.com (zack kruse) — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 15:34:00 +0000

One of the great things about comics is that their only limitation is the imagination of the creator(s) and, to a slightly lesser extent, the reader. Comics can be anything and do anything any time they want—and they don’t even need a reason for doing it. Cartoonist Nick Edwards proves that point with relative ease in his latest work, Dinopopolous. Creating a world filled with adventure, dinosaurs, evil lizard armies, ancient artifacts, laser knives, and sprinkled with a bit of heavy metal, Edwards taps into an innate sense of wonder and excitement that turned many readers on to comics in their youth. It’s that same sense of wonderment that has made Jesse Moynihan’s Adventure Time so brilliant and that burned movies like The Goonies and Monster Squad into the collective psyche of a generation; it’s what made Kamandi so amazing; it’s what fuels the cult following of bands like The Aquabats. I would even go so far as to say that, at its core, what drives this comic is the same sort of felling that makes people love Tom Sawyer. It’s adventure, it’s imagination, it’s boyhood.

It’s hyperbolic to compare Dinopopolous to something like Jack Kirby’s Kamandi, but the spirit of Kamandi certainly fuels Edwards’ work and gives it a certain quality that makes it much more than just another off-the-wall indie comic.

The hero of the adventure is thirteen year old Nigel. Nigel loves heavy metal, video games, comic books, is a genius, and his best friend is a dinosaur named Brian…a dinosaur with a saddle that has laser cannons attached to either side. The saddle that Brian wears is immediately reminiscent of the 1980s cartoon/toy-line Dino-Riders. Not only is Nigel a genius, but he’s an investigator for an organization that seeks out ancient, mysterious, and legendary artifacts, and when their backs are against the wall, they turn to Nigel for assistance. Nigel even has enemies in the League of Lizards…a gang of evil lizard men—the most insidious kind of men!

Most recently Nigel has been tasked with recovering something only known as “The Miracle Bird of Ndundoo”; it’s pre-pre-pre-historic and it is unknown what magical secrets it may hold. At least one man has already been lost and it’s up to Nigel to recover the bird—but can he do it with the evil League of Lizards, led by the sinister Julian, on his tail? Is Nigel’s genius enough for him to thwart Julian, solve ancient riddles, defeat horrendous beasts, navigate the Escher-esque caverns, and recover Bird of Ndundoo?

Nick Edward’s comedic sense is certainly on display here and the humor ranges from the dry and subtle to the child-like. What I really like about the child-like humor is that, the way it’s written, a lot of the dialog reads as though it was crafted by a second or third grader, but there’s an identifiable, adult, sense of sarcasm that motivates it, which is what really makes it work. It’s the sort of thing that, if an eight year old were to read it, it would seem natural. Yet, when an adult reads it, it’s very funny.

The cartooning is terrific throughout the work; although it’s difficult to pin down a stylistic influence—assuming that there is one—it’s somewhere in between Jim Wooding, Jesse Moynihan, and Thurop Van Orman (creator of The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack). What is most impressive about Edwards’ style is his use of backgrounds. When it feels as though Edwards needs the reader to speed up, the backgrounds become more limited; when he needs the reader to slow down the backgrounds become more complex and carefully rendered; when he needs the reader to focus on a specific portion of the page he only renders that section, blacking out the rest. It’s a subtle touch, but it’s a great way to get the reader to slow down and get comfortable with who a character is or the importance of their immediate situation. The use of backgrounds provides a tremendous sense of substance; where as, without them, it would be all too easy for the reader to swiftly move through story and not spend any significant time with the characters.

Dinopopolous is a comic that is not only light-hearted fun and well cartooned; it’s a comic that evokes the memories, excitement, and sense of adventure that made childhood great. Nick Edwards’ visual sense makes all of those things work within confines of this 26-page adventure and more than worth checking out.

Dinopopolous
Nick Edwards
Blank Slate Books

Bias & Fanboyism in Comic Reviews

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 12:51:00 +0000

As most of you know, I review new comics over at Weeklycomicbookreview.com. It's an interesting avocation because there is no established source for comics journalism. Even the "big boys" of Comic Book Resources, Newsarama and iFanboy probably aren't making much money on this stuff and if you go down a notch further down to sites like WCBR, you're talking about folks who are creating content just for fun. Yet, there are fans and readers who want objective reviews.

One's life as a comic reviewer is interesting. You start out just flinging reviews into the ether. You can see the traffic stats for your reviews and see that you're getting a whopping 15 page views per day and that most of those are search engines. Then something interesting happens: You get an email from a real, live comic book creator who is thanking you for saying something nice about their comic book.

You get an epiphany at this point, "Creators read this stuff!" And, many of those creators are friendly guys. Lots of them doing creator-owned comics at places like Image aren't getting paid anything and have dreamed of doing comics their whole life and suddenly they've got people critiquing their work in public.

I don't know about you, but I don't love it when my professional work get's critiqued in public.

Eventually you get friendly with some of these guys. You become friends on twitter, learn that you have things in common with a few of them, see them at conventions, have them as sources to ask insider questions, etc. Yet, along the way....you are still having to review their work. At some point, it becomes like being asked to critique a friend in public. It's also good to remember that it is a one-sided relationship in that way......Ryan Stegman probably isn't going to start blogging about my skills at writing patent licenses.

It's all fun and games until the creator does something you don't really love. What do you do? We all know what the options are: lie about it, just avoid it and review something else or be candid.

For me personally, if they work isn't complete crap, I've usually tried to do the candid thing. If it's a creator that I'm friendly with, I'll usually drop them an email to warn them, explain what I didn't like and say that I hope they realize the value of having quality reviews that are as unbiased as possible. It's also worth keeping in mind how reviews at multi-contributor sites work. At WCBR, we have some titles that are "assigned" to us and some that we just sign-up for. I've heard creators say, "Why would you review something when you have nothing nice to say?" Well....we do it because we said we wanted to do it. For a title like Batman, there are often several reviewers who want to review it, so you really can't sign up for it and not review it. It would be like taking the last bit of food out of the pot when there are other hungry people around and then not eating it.

But, the sneakier thing in comic reviews is the subtle bias. Anything that is "really good" becomes "issue of the year!!!!!", material that is really average becomes "very good" and a comic that is actually kinda subpar is "average". That sort of bias is really insidious because you can't really see it happening. It's like how you can't smell your own B.O. or bad breath. Most reviewers actually like it when readers drop a nicely worded comment pointing out some possible fanboyism. I know I appreciate it.

The other thing for fans is to know your reviewers. Personally, I can't see any value in individual reviews taken alone. You have to know what kinds of comics a particular reviewer enjoys and which they do not enjoy....and it takes a consistent review for that to happen. Over time you realize that Dean really seems to like Scott Snyder a lot and that he really doesn't like Greg Land at all. And you can consider the reviews appropriately. This is why I see ZERO value in sites that allow user reviews except as a kind of crowdsourced average score. I just don't know how you can get much value from a dude who posts a singular review under a screen name like "Poopmonster63".

So, to wrap up....we are biased, but we never said we weren't.

- Dean Stell

Top 10 (and more) Comics for Halloween

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Farrell) — Sun, 23 Oct 2011 04:21:00 +0000

I love Halloween. Not as much as the people who build animatronic skeletons for their front lawns, or my friend Matt, who probably had his daughter just so he could keep trick-or-treating well into adulthood (just kidding, Matt), but I do love it. I also love horror movies and, of course, horror comics. Now, some people claim that comics can never be truly scary, and it's true that you can't apply the same rules to comics that you do to movies, i.e. jump scares are pretty much out. On the other hand, some of the most disturbing, creepy, growing-sense-of-dread entertainment I've experienced came from between the blood-soaked pages of our favorite medium. After the break I'll tell you briefly about some of my favorites. Share some of your own in the comments!

10) Hellboy/BPRD - Only about half of any given Hellboy story is spooky. Eventually, Hellboy himself shows up, starts insulting the tentacled monstrosity that just sprouted out of a 100 year old man, and gets down to punching it into submission. But BEFORE that happens, when Mignola and his collaborators are mixing history, folk tales and dark magic into a heady, creepy brew, these are often some supremely scary comics. Try "The Wolves of Saint August", "The Crooked Man", and "Box Full of Evil" for some good examples.

9) Lords of Misrule - Dan Abnett (along with frequent writing partner Andy Lanning) is a household name for many current Marvel fans for work on series like Guardians of the Galaxy but his resume is actually wide and varied, including a lot of writing for Warhammer 40K and this gem of a series, a dark fairy tale with terrific black and white art by Peter Snejeberg and Gary Erskine.

8) Sandman #6 - Throughout its 60+ issue run, Sandman explored several different tones and styles, from melancholy to grandiose, from tragic to darkly humorous. Every once in a while things got a little nasty; who could forget the crows straining to break free from George's ribcage in "A Game of You" or the "cereal" convention in "A Doll's House"? No issue ventured as far into sheer, skin-crawling horror, however, as Gaiman and Dringenberg's tale of power without a conscience in "24 Hours."

7) Strange Embrace - Recently reprinted, this is one of the most sophisticated, legitimately harrowing tales of psychological horror and obsession ever committed to paper. I guarantee that memories of Alex and his strange and horrific past will linger long after you turn the last page. It's a real shame that David Hine went on to do perfectly decent Marvel work after this, but nothing approaching the impact and mastery of this story.

6) "When I Grow Up" - The last story in the last issue of Death Rattle #18, by Gerard Jones (whatever happened to him?) and Doug Potter, casts a spell on me unmatched elsewhere in comics, and each time I read it its power is undiminished. Several young children play a simple game of make believe, a game of "what am I going to be when I grow up," but instead of the typically blurry-edged fantasies of astronauts and firefighters, we watch as these children, physically unchanged, begin to enact the dramas, tragedies and regrets of their adult years. It's a powerful statement on the uncertainty of our futures and the wrong turns people can take, even those with the most innocent and openhearted intentions.

5) Taboo - Edited by Steve Bissette, Taboo is a seminal horror anthology. Besides being the first place parts of From Hell were published, it contained hundreds of pages of the most darkly disturbing writing and art from cartoonists all over the world. I discovered people like Matt Howarth and John Totleben (who drew the cover pictured here) in Taboo, as well as one of my favorite writers in comics today: Phil Hester. You'd barely recognize this Phil Hester, though. The stories that appear here, and in another great anthology called Negative Burn, are almost unmatched in their stark, visceral power. The art is jagged, primal, almost like cave paintings, and the writing has a similar ability to bore deep down into the blacker recesses of what it means to be a human animal.

4) Tapping the Vein - This one seems a bit like cheating; after all, these are adaptations of Clive Barker's short stories, not stories originally written for comics. But they're great, faithful adaptations of some of the best horror stories of the 20th century, so as far as I'm concerned, no list of scary comics is complete without them. Some of Barker's longer stories were also adapted into comics and those are just as good (Dread is one of the best and most frightening.)

3 Tainted - Raise your hand if you've even heard of this. You, way in the back: nice! Criminally underrated, Tainted was part of the short lived Vertigo sub-line of one shot comics that also included Peter Milligan's great Face and The Eaters. I recommend them all. But Tainted, a journey inside the paranoid, twisted mind of a very sick man is the one that stuck with me the longest. I haven't read this book in over a decade, but I can summon up the last page in my mind's eye even now...and the feeling of "oh, oh no" dread that went along with it. Written by Jamie Delano, the original writer of Hellblazer with art by Al Davison. I'm sure it's cheap if you can find it. Please do.

2) Fall of Cthulhu #1-14 - Lovecraftian stories done right are among the scariest stories on Earth; this is Lovecraft done right. After #14 the series got a bit too large scale for my tastes, and the monsters came too fully into the sunlight. But before that? Pitch perfect horror, with a truly nightmare-inducing moment about every half dozen pages. Hexed, a spin-off series, is also good stuff. Both are written by Michael Alan Nelson, who you might recognize as the writer of the 28 Days Later comic series, another great horror/action read.

1) Mermaid - There are a lot of oft-referenced horror manga: Domu. Uzumaki (look out for spirals!) The work of Junji Ito. A lot of it's great. For my money, though, nothing beats an underrated work by a manga artist better known for romantic comedies like Ranma 1/2: the Mermaid saga. If you eat the flesh of a mermaid, you might gain immortality...or you might be transformed into a hideous, twisted creature, mindless and doomed. Many are willing to take the risk, and many pay the price. In Rumiko Takahashi's atmospheric horror masterpiece, it's not always clear who suffers the worse fate. Creepy kids are creepy, and no one does them better than Takahashi.

So there's my list. I hope you'll share some of your own favorites, and maybe try a book or two from my list. A quick honorable mention list just cause I don't know when to shut up (and I do love horror comics!):

The Upturned Stone - Not truly scary, but a fantastic painted Halloween tale for all (most) ages.
Scary Godmother - Not the least bit scary, but Jill Thompson rocks, and so does this series.
Dead Space - Unusually successful video game based comic and one of the most genuinely creepy Ben Templesmith comics out there.
Shade, The Changing Man#1 - Not a horror comic, per se, but damn that first issue sticks with me. "I'm not mad. I get mad, but I'm not mad."
Mail - Ghost stories, Manga style. Good stuff that gets better as the three volumes progress.
Murder Can Be Fun - Non fiction stories. Nothing is scarier than real human beings.
Hard Looks - See above re: real human beings. These are fictional, but heavily based on real cases and situations of abuse and other depravities.
Hellblazer - C'mon, everybody knows what this is. There are some scary ones scattered throughout the run.
28 Days Later - Mentioned above, it ended too soon. Probably the best movie based comic I've ever read.

REVIEW: Death Ray

noreply@blogger.com (zack kruse) — Fri, 21 Oct 2011 14:17:00 +0000

Rare is the time that I feel intimidated before I open my big fat mouth; however, every now and then I question whether or not I am actually worthy to critique a book. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. Dan Clowes’ Death Ray led me to one of those instances of anxiety. A lot of my anxiety came not just from Clowes’ standing in the comics/cartooning community, but rather a combination of that standing and my embarrassing lack of direct familiarity with his comics work. Fortunately, it didn’t take me long to get over that initial embarrassment, so I threw caution to the wind and decided to tackle Death Ray.

I have a general familiarity with the visual aspect of Clowes’ work and greatly enjoyed the film adaptation of Ghost World (I haven’t read the book yet…sorry), so I kind of had a good idea of how the book would feel visually and figured that I could guess the kind of complex, often odd, characters I would encounter. Additionally, I own several of Clowes’ earlier works, this just happens to be the first I have actually read. Having taken all of that into consideration, I had received the solace that I convinced myself that I needed before taking on such a giant of a cartoonist. The fact (that’s right, fact) that Death Ray is an incredible story, naturally, put my mind further at ease, and made it very easy for me to feel comfortable commenting on it.

Originally published in 2004 in issue #23 Dan Clowes’ Eightball, Death Ray is the tale of a teenage boy named Andy and is awful friend, Louie. Andy’s invisible. He’s not literally invisible though. Rather he’s invisible in that way only a teenager can be. With the exception of Louie, Pappy (Andy’s grandfather), and Pappy’s caretaker, not many people are more than vaguely aware of Andy’s existence. Most anyone else who would potentially care about Andy has passed on. His mother died very young when a blood clot lodged in her brain, and his father and grandmother were victims of cancer, leaving Andy with only Pappy and his aunt left to call family. In many ways, Andy is a more tragic version of Peter Parker. He lacks Peter’s genius, but, like Parker, Andy is an orphan with only a sickly, aging relative left to care for him. Andy’s tragedy exceeds Peter Parkers in that at least Peter’s losses were sudden and uncommon. Andy lost his family to the slow, heartbreaking cruelty of disease; while Peter Parker never got the chance to say “goodbye,” the reader must assume that Andy had to watch his father slowly succumb to death’s grasp. He must also have watched his grandmother do the same, and the reader is forced to witness, along with Andy, the agonizing deterioration of Andy’s grandfather. Where Peter Parker’s losses, most notably of Uncle Ben, were sudden and certainly tragic, Andy’s losses must have been soul-crushing, leaving him in the hollow state that we find him in in the opening pages of this story.

With such tragic beginnings, it’s only natural that Andy must have something else extraordinary happen to him—this is a comic book, after all. It must be something so extraordinary as to completely change his life and give him the opportunity for a better one. A better life, that is, if Andy can keep himself together emotionally. For the purposes of this story, Andy must become a superhero. Previously unbeknownst to Andy; as a child, his father injected him with a special hormone. That hormone could be activated with the use of nicotine, giving Andy super strength. However, the strength is only temporary and Andy must regain his abilities through smoking…yes, Andy must smoke in order to become a superhero. In addition to his nicotine-activated-super-strength, Andy’s father also left him an odd-shaped pistol, a death ray. The death ray pistol can only be operated by Andy and has the ability to completely disintegrate any target that it hits.

The trouble is, can Andy actually keep himself together long enough to learn to always make the right decisions without going mad with his moderate amount of power? Can Andy stave off the aggravating peer pressure that his best friend saddles him with? Can Andy be a hero? Can he be Peter Parker? Or will he ultimately retreat back to his overbearing sense of personal inadequacy and the all-too-human urge for exerting his power through passive-aggressive means? Clowes addresses all of these issues in a way that can only be done in comics and he addresses them in a way that is uncomfortably honest. Imagine visiting a friend and asking the banal question, “How are you?” Now imagine that they respond by saying, “I’m an emotional wreck. My grandmother died and I just don’t know what to do with myself.” The certain type of tension and uncomfortableness that comes from such a response is what Clowes captures in Death Ray and he makes it the tone for the whole of the narrative.

Andy’s journey is an interesting one. Andy’s life has not been particularly cheery, and he has just one friend, Louie (who is of morally questionable character); his lack of friends is a result of bad past experiences and his own cynical nature. Yet, even with his cynicism, Andy considers Louie to be a rare, true friend. The relationship between Andy and Louie is complex. It almost seems that they’re both using each other for emotional reasons and there is a clear struggle for dominance in the relationship. Early on, Louie (who has a troubled home life of his own) is the dominant partner of the two. He bosses Andy around while trying to exploit and manipulate Andy’s new found super power. What’s worse is that he doesn’t just try to exploit Andy for personal gain; he tries to convince Andy that it’s okay to use his abilities for morally questionable acts—and in some cases morally reprehensible ones. Part of Louie’s motivation for trying to get Andy to use his powers in such a way is clearly a result of his home life and disdain for his family members, but it’s also a clear result of his trouble with girls. It’s Louie’s douche baggery that creates significant strain on the relationship between the characters.

Andy initially struggles with what to do with his abilities and eventually makes a conscious, if not over-compensating effort, to be a good person after he gains a better understanding of his ability and the power of the death ray pistol that his father left him. He almost tries to be too good. It’s as though he’s trying to emulate the black and white morality of Golden Age superheroes. It’s not the captivating black and white morality of later, more complex characters like Steve Ditko’s Question or Mr. A. Rather, it’s much more child-like and it ultimately sets Andy up for failure with its impossible to maintain ideals. What’s even more fascinating about Andy’s choice to try to be a better person is its ultimate result, which is Andy developing an almost sociopathic sense of authority over who lives and who dies. In Andy’s warping sense of morality there are many people who are permitted to live only as a result of his generosity.

What’s most captivating about this shift in Andy’s moral outlook is that creates a significant change in the dynamic of Louie and Andy’s relationship. Andy becomes the clear, dominant force and it’s Louie that ultimately becomes sympathetic, submissive member of the friendship and it is he who is forced to retreat to a Jiminy Cricket-type role. Perhaps Louie was a Jiminy Cricket archetype all along, except he transitioned from a morally questionable one into the more relatable, sympathetic, version. In the end, it was this shift in dynamic and its necessary result that made this story memorable. It’s a wonderfully well-crafted tale, but it’s this moment that stopped the work from just being good and made it great.

Dan Clowes’ mastery of storytelling isn’t just limited to character moments, as savvy comic readers should well know. Clowes utilizes the visual aspect of the medium as well as any creator ever has. He takes great advantage of the methods of storytelling that are only possible in comics and uses them in remarkably subtle and impactful ways. While Clowes’ layouts appear simple and straightforward, they invest the reader with the characters by forcing them to consider them only within the limited existence that Clowes’ permits them. Reading Clowes’ panel layouts is similar to reading a Sunday comic strip. On a page where several dozen characters may appear, the reader is forced to limit those characters to the small squares in which they exist. The reader knows that Hi & Lois won’t be appearing in Garfield any time soon; they know that’s the case because of the layout of the Comics page and the way that each cartoonist lays out their panels. Whether it was intentional or not, Charles Schultz utilized this to a remarkable effect. When people read Peanuts, it doesn’t matter what else is on the page, nothing else exists outside of Charlie Brown’s world. No one is thinking about any other strip or character on the page, they are completely invested in Schultz’s characters. Clowes taps into that exact same sentiment and reader reaction with the page layouts in Death Ray. The design forces the reader to be only interested in the little moments that Clowes provides them. Nothing else exists outside of Andy and Louie’s small world, and even less exists in between the panels.

In addition to Clowes’ Schultzian mastery of layout and storytelling, he accents and bookends the story with brilliant, yet brief, interludes that allow the readers insight into what others think of Andy. These interludes allow for a satisfying reflection on who Andy was, who Andy became, and provide a needed sense of closure for the story. Clowes chooses an unconventional, but somewhat expected, ending for the story that builds on that sense of closure that was provided by the interludes and also gives the reader a sense of control over Andy’s ultimate fate. It’s that combination that makes the story not just memorable, but satisfying.

Dan Clowes is inarguably a comics master and in Death Ray he offers a superhero tale that only he could tell. He utilizes an astonishing range of sequential story telling styles that draw influence from the great superhero comics of the Silver Age, newspaper comic strips and the tools that Charles Schultz mastered, and mixes them together with his own distinguished visual sense and unique way of character building and development. If one were to look at this as an overall commentary of the evolution of the superhero, it's easy to watch Andy transition from the Golden Age do-gooder to the more introspective Silver Age hero to the morally complex anti-hero of modern superhero comics, and Clowes makes the transitions subtle and emotionally satisfying. Between Clowes’ work and the topnotch production values that Drawn & Quarterly puts into this edition, Death Ray has more than earned a spot on every sincere comics fan’s shelf, and is one of the finest collections to have been released in 2011.

Death Ray

Dan Clowes

Drawn and Quarterley

SRP: $19.95

Getting the Expected from Vertigo's "The Unexpected"

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Farrell) — Sun, 16 Oct 2011 04:31:00 +0000

I love comics anthologies. I've bought a fair number of them over the years: everything from fairly obscure regional comics collective efforts to classic, long running mainstays like Dark Horse Presents to the enormous, dazzling modern tomes like Flight and Popgun. I love them because of the often bewildering variety of styles of display. I love them because they are treasure troves of newly discovered talent. I love them because you can sample them like an exotic box of sweets, never knowing quite what you'll find, but never having to linger long to find out.

DC's Vertigo imprint has published a fair number of anthologies in the past, usually revolving around broad yet specific topics like horror or crime. There's an unofficial adage in comics publishing...anthologies don't sell...which probably goes some way toward explaining why Vertigo doesn't publish as many of them as they used to. In a recent trip to a comic shop, however, a brand new one-shot anthology, apparently published "just because", caught my eye.

Since you're looking at the cover of The Unexpected right now, you can probably see why. Rafael Grampa (with an accent on the second "a"; not sure how to add that) drew the cover. His art immediately calls Geof Darrow's hyper-detailed linework to mind, but closer inspection reveals that Grampa is a true original.

That cannot be said for much of the content between the covers. That's mostly okay; a lot of these Vertigo anthologies are like modern day versions of the old Warren and EC comics. Twist in the tail stuff. Nothing wrong with that. Done well, I enjoy those stories as much as the next guy. And most of the stuff in here is pretty well done. There are a few stories that transcend the formula and offer work as original and daring as Grampa's cover, and those are the ones I'd like to highlight here.

My favorite story by far is "The Land", written by Joshua Dysart (Unknown Soldier, Greendale) and drawn by Farel Dalrymple (Popgun War, Omega the Unknown). It's mysterious, lyrical. We aren't quite sure where the real world stops and a world of myth and wonder begins. Despite its more fanciful elements it also manages to to say something about power and race and the ephemeral nature of all humankind's conflicts. It's beautifully drawn, beautifully written. It's predictable because it's about pettiness and hatred and fear, something we know all too well as fellow humans, but told in a way that feels surprising and new. It's virtually worth the price of admission by itself.

"Dogs", by G. Willow Wilson (Cairo, Air) and Robbi Rodriguez (Maintenance) is a somewhat less successful morality tale, partly because I never quite bought Rodriguez' rubbery depictions of the suddenly erect dogs of the title. It's kind of heavy-handed too, but for all that, it was well told and kinda eerie.

"Americana", by Brian Wood (DMZ, Northlanders) and Emily Carroll, is very simple in structure, not delving too deeply into its world or characters as the narrative sweeps across 100 years of speculative American history, and it implies that a peaceful future might entail a...lack of men, never one of my favorite fantasies. It has the feeling of having far more to it than what is on the page, though, a sweeping, epic feel, an impressive rhythm and heartbeat to it. I also absolutely loved the colors, stark whites and blues and luminous oranges, that made the pages feel like they should almost be cold or warm to the touch, respectively.

"A Most Delicate Monster" felt like it was going to be one of my absolute favorites in the book until the very last page. It's still a lot of fun, but it felt like Jeffrey Rotter didn't really know where he wanted to ultimately go with his idea of a Neanderthal introduced into the modern world. Lelio Bonaccorso's art is loose and full of personality.

Almost all of the stories have something to recommend them. "The Great Karlini" has the great Dave Gibbon's impeccable storytelling, even if the story itself is the most overtly stereotypical of the bunch. "Family First", by Mat Johnson and David Lapham (drawing instead of writing for once) is also pretty standard, and only shocking if you've never read such a story before, but very professionally done. "Voodoo Child: Blink", which will be a Vertigo ongoing starting sometime next year by Selwyn Hinds and Denys Cowan, was just enough to whet my appetite. They kinda had me at New Orleans, Voodoo and werewolves, honestly. Probably my least favorite story, "Alone", still had some neat visual storytelling tricks by Rahsan Ekedal.

All in all, for over 64 pages of art and story, with nary an ad to be found, this was worth the $7.99. Like most anthologies it's hit or miss, but like any good ones it hit most of the time, and some of the stuff that didn't work for me might work better for other readers. At the very least you can gaze at that cover when the mood strikes you.

Writers getting details wrong...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 14 Oct 2011 00:26:00 +0000

Writing material that is going to be published isn't easy: You're putting material out there for a world full of chuckle-head bloggers (like me) to nit-pick the smallest aspects of what you're created. Heck....I feel their pain. I've published a few articles in scholarly journals in my professional life and in my avocation I always have to be careful when reviewing comics at Weeklycomicbookreview.com for fear that I'll screw up some detail of Age of Apocalypse or the Clone Saga and have some rage encrusted troll attack me in the comments section. So, I get it.

But, one thing I just can't forgive in a writer are those who purposely include details in their script but then get the details wrong. All of us have those little areas where we know a hell of a lot. So, anytime an writer decides he wants to fling around specific terms like the type of engine found in a particular car, scientific details, etc. they do so at their peril because someone reading the material is an expert on that subject. And, when they screw up those details, especially in a fictional work that is meant to be anchored in reality, it pops the whole bubble. We, the reader, are supposed to be suspending disbelief and letting the story flow over us: "This stuff could really happen!" But, then these factual FUBARs arise and suddenly the suspension of disbelief is gone and the reader is on Wikipedia checking your facts instead of reading the story.

When that happens, you've failed as a writer. And....there's probably a little big of Fail on your editor's shoes too.

So, what caused this plea for factual accuracy in fiction? Well, I've been reading the new Walking Dead novel, Rise of the Governor by Robert Kirkman and Jay Bonansinga. I'm about half-way through the novel now and it's fun enough; not timeless fiction, but enjoyable for TWD fans.

But, it has this factual error that has me banging my head against the wall. You see, I know a lot about guns and have shot, used and owned guns my entire life. That's often a curse when reading fiction because most writers are not firearms experts, but they seem to really enjoy writing about them because they are cool. Most knowledgeable gun folks have long since learned to ignore the minor factual liberties that the creative class takes with firearms, but Bonansinga goes to a whole new level.

At one point in the novel, the protagonists take refuge in a house and scour it for supplies. They specifically find "Marlin Model 55 shotguns" which are known as "goose guns. Fast and accurate and powerful, the Marlins are designed for killing migratory fowl at high altitudes...or in this case, the bull's-eye of a skull at a hundred-plus yards." Many, many problems with that sentence.... On the plus side, there is such a weapon as the Marlin Model 55 and they did make a type of that shotgun called the "goose gun". Let's talk about the problems though...

For one thing, the Model 55 is a bolt-action shotgun and is almost universally reviled as one of the poorest long guns ever made. If you were in a zombie apocalypse and could only scavenge Model 55's, you would be pissed off and the zombies would eat you. They also rather uncommon because they're a piece of crap. Imagine the bad luck of only seeking refuge in the home of a douche who owned such crappy weapons!
The statement that the shotguns are "fast". It is unclear what "fast" means. Heck, Bonansinga probably doesn't know what he means by "fast", but let's assume that Bonansinga means they fire rapidly. This is actually the biggest disadvantage of the Model 55. The bolt action mechanism causes them to be slower than any other type of multi-shot shotgun ever produced.
The statement that the Model 55s are "accurate". Shotguns are, by design, not accurate. They fire a pattern of small pellets that disperse the farther they travel. The key with a shotgun is to adjust the density of the pattern so that at the distance you expect targets to be, so that you have a reasonably dense pattern (so that the projectiles don't pass harmlessly around the target) but also a reasonably large pattern (because shotguns are usually fired at fast moving objects and even with a pattern that is 2-3 feet across, excellent shots still miss all the time). Shotguns are not "accurate".
Hitting bullseyes on a skull at 100 yards is silly. At 100 yards, you are shooting a rifle. For one thing, at 100 yards, your pattern has soooo expanded that you pellets are spread over 20 feet or so. For another, the pellets are spheres and spheres are just about the worst ballistic object possible because they shed energy so quickly. At 100 yards I doubt the pellets would even break the skin. You would have to lob the shot at a target 100 yards away like you were doing indirect artillery fire because the pellets would just hit the ground if you fired the gun level.

So, why is this a big deal? It's annoying because Bonansinga has gone out of his way to be dead ass wrong. Why not just say they found "shotguns" and leave it at that? Who wouldn't be happy with that explanation? I'm into guns and wouldn't read "shotguns" and think, "Why is he being so damn vague?!?!? I demand to know what KIND of shotguns these are."

But, Bonansinga isn't even done yet! On no! He later goes on to describe "levering" the shotguns open implying that these Marlin Model 55s are not bolt-actions (which they are), but side-by-sides or over-and-unders (which do lever open). Then he mentions a character thumbing back the hammers on the shotguns to cock them which is just such total BS because except for reproductions of antique firearms, shotguns with external hammers aren't produced anymore because we developed the technology for internal, self-cocking hammers over 100 years ago. And...later he describes the shotguns as 20 gauges. Now, the Model 55 was produced in 20 gauge (which is a smaller cartridge containing less powder and fewer pellets), but the "goose gun" was a 10 gauge beast of a shotgun. A 20 gauge would be very ill-suited for shooting birds at "high altitude". These mythical shotguns are semi-major supporting characters in the book and he's gotten it all wrong.

The problem I have with this is that it's just lazy writing. I read this and it tells me that Bonansinga didn't give a crap when he wrote this story and that his editors didn't give a crap when their reviewed it. No one said, "Hey! You're got a lot of details here. Is this stuff accurate?" So, now I wonder what else he screwed up in the book that I'm not knowledgeable enough to catch....

The point is: Writers.....don't include hyper detail unless you know what you're talking about.

- Dean Stell

Competition vs. Industry Standards

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 10 Oct 2011 15:03:00 +0000

Is there anything safer on a comic related message board than kicking Diamond Comic Distributors, Inc.? Those poor guys are about as popular as a sexually transmitted disease. You'll also see folks worrying about other parts of comicdom becoming too monopolistic. "The Big 2 are dominating the market share and squeezing out the little guys!" or "Comixology is gaining too much power! I wonder if they'll become the Diamond of the digital era?" This is a common sentiment in other walks of life and if you doubt that, try to find someone who says nice things about "the cable company". For some reason, Americans just love the concept of competition.

But, we had other comic news last week that illustrated what happens when you don't have a dominant player in an industry. Amazon launched their Kindle Fire ("Yay! Competition for Apple and their stupid closed system!") and announced that they would have exclusive comic content from DC Comics ("Boooo! I better still be able to read those comics on my iPad!"). Shortly thereafter, Barnes and Noble announced that it was pulling all of the Kindle-exclusive titles from their stores in a move that was met with universal score by the online community ("Bad business move. I want to be able to buy my comics anywhere I feel like it!").

These moves are all good examples of what happens in a competitive market versus a standardized market. The standardized market is predictable, but doesn't allow for as much innovation and does lead to abuses and sloppy practices by the various players in the market. On the other hand, a competitive market is chaotic and leads to messy things like exclusive deals and retailers boycotting a product over unequal treatment.

I'm fortunate enough to occasionally lecture to undergraduate and graduate students about competitive dynamics and there are two industries that I always use as examples of how standards aren't always bad and how competition isn't always good.

Consider your garden hose. Do you know what size the end of it is? What is the pitch of the threads? Is it threaded right or left-handed? How do you know that a new hose will fit the spigots on your house or will connect with your sprinklers? The answer (of course) is that you don't have to think of any of that because it is all standardized to something called "Garden Hose Thread" in the U.S. And because of GHT, all of our hoses and attachments fit together nicely. Surely there were other designs for garden hoses and some of them may have been superior for certain tasks, but GHT won and that's how it is. Most people are glad that we don't have competition in garden hoses!

Now, go to the area of your house where you store your disposable batteries. What a cluster F%&#! At my house, I have a big ziplock bag that is full of AA, AAA, D, C, 9 volt and odd assortments of camera batteries and those little flat bastards that go into watches and other devices. And, did you know that many camera batteries are just a stack of those little flat batteries with a colorful Duracell wrapper around the mess? And, did you know that many 9-volt batteries are actually composed of a bunch of really long, skinny batteries called AAAA? Why can't life just be like a video game where you have generic "powercells"? I can appreciate that we can't get rid of ALL of the battery sizes, but why must we have AA and AAA? C and D? Just have the engineers locked in a room to knife-fight to the death and establish a standard! If AA wins and my consumer electronics need to be a little larger, so be it!

So, the next time you're inclined to complain about Diamond, just imagine the chaos that could ensue when they go away. It won't all be peaches and cream! Similarly, be careful what you wish for when dreaming of ONE standard being established for all digital comics because the standard might not be quite what you had in mind.

- Dean Stell

Longshot Miniseries - Back-Issue Review

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 11:43:00 +0000

Originally Published: September 1985 - February 1986

Writer: Ann Nocenti

Pencils: Arthur Adams

Inks: Whilce Portacio

Colors: Christie Scheele

Letters: Joe Rosen

Editor: Louise Jones

Basic Story: A mysterious man with a blond mullett and luck-based powers finds himself with no memory of his past. He gets into a series of hijinks with hapless souls due to his naivety before learning more about his background and becoming a hero. Longshot (as he comes to be called) is an escaped slave from the Mojoverse and needs to protect the Earth and its citizens from Mojo, the despotic reality show runner and ruler of the Mojoverse.

Why read it: This was the coming out party for one ARTHUR ADAMS. Any comic art fan knows that name well as Adams was/is one of the best and most influential artists of the last 25 years. It really was issues like this one that were the harbingers of change in comic art in the late 1980's from the mostly classical superhero stylings of folks like Jack Kirby, John Byrne, Gene Colan and towards the styles of Adams, Jim Lee, Todd McFarlane, etc. who left to form Image comics, made a lot of folks rich, helped fuel the 90's comic boom that powered the Direct Market comic shops and led indirectly to where to are today. I'm not saying that Art Adams caused all of that to happen, but the appearance of this issue was a sign of change blowing through superhero comics because Adams' art was unlike anything I'd ever seen as a little boy.

Owned by some lucky dude

The story behind the issue is interesting too. Ann Nocenti was the X-Men group editor at the time and had this story about a dude named Longshot. Supposedly a lot of other artists passed on the project before she got this relatively unknown dude to draw it. If you look at the issues, you can see his style evolving and improving with each issue. Probably some of that is Portacio getting better at inking him too. But, the end result is an issue #6 that is much more beautiful than issue #1.

The other big reason to read this mini is the first appearances of three useful X-Men supporting characters over the years. Not only was this Longshot's debut, but it was also the first time we saw Mojo and Lady Spiral (as Mojo's henchman). Adams really made Spiral attractive as hell and he more effectively conveyed Mojo's Jabba the Hut-esque appearance than most other artists have in the years since.

What's kinda goofy about it: Honestly....the story ain't much and has a lot of goofy 80's stuff. Let's start with Longshot's basic sense of style. For as much as folks like to make fun of the Captain Eo-like Beyonder from Secret Wars II, I'm surprised that they never pick on Longshot with his mullet and black leathers. The funny thing is that the script keeps having women calling out how hot and sexy Longshot is. If you read the thought bubbles from the ladies....the dude is just knocking them dead. Then you compare that with image on the page and think, "That guy?????" Oh well....this was the mid-80's. Women back then thought David Bowie was hot.

The story is just overall kinda of dorky. Longshot blunders into a number of silly adventures where he's hanging out with survivalists in their underground bomb shelter, working as a movie stuntman and helping a suicidal man get revenge on the power company. I think the point is to show that Longshot really is an alien in our world so he lacks judgement about who he mixes with, but it still comes off as really weird.

Is it worth it: Absolutely. If you're a fan of comic art and/or the history of the X-Men, this is a must read.

How to buy it: The issues are a little pricey for 80's back issues and will cost you $3-6 per issue for "very fine" condition. Most stuff from that era is dollar bin material, but this is some of the first published work of Art Adams, so there's demand. It was also collected into both a trade paperback way back in 1989 (when collections were kinda rare) and a hardcover in 2008. The hardcover seems to sill be in print and can be bought through Amazon for $18.

Grade: B- (Great art, average-to-dopy story)

- Dean Stell

J is for Jason...and Judgment

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Farrell) — Mon, 26 Sep 2011 21:56:00 +0000

Way back in 1785, a poet named William Cowper (no, I'd never heard of him either) used the phrase "variety is the spice of life" in a poem called "The Task." It's probably the only thing an 18th century poet and I have in common, but I believe that statement to contain more than a bit of truth. I crave variety: in the music I listen to, the movies I watch, and yes, the comic books I read.

We live in an amazing time for comics. They are produced on every subject imaginable, from how-to manuals to space operas. They come in every form, from xeroxed pamphlets to enormous dust jacketed hardcovers. The Federal Treasury created comics to explain their monetary policies; at the same time someone, or many someones, were pouring their very personal triumphs and tragedies onto the page. They are entertainment, reportage, education. They are almost as many things as there are people producing them. But this is all a secret. A huge, sprawling, multicolored, very well kept secret.

Look at the top sales as reported by Diamond for any given month and you'll see a, *cough*, trend. They're virtually all superhero books, the vast majority of them published by two large companies, both of which are subsidiaries of vastly larger companies. Somehow, comics have become almost synonymous with superheroes in the eyes of both large segments of the non comics reading public and with the readers themselves. Some of those fans limit themselves even further, deciding things like "DC isn't for me" or "I don't like Marvel." SOME of them subdivide their tiny chosen niche even further, deciding that only certain characters are worthy of their attention and dollars.

Now, be honest: how many of you, having taken your first taste of beer, didn't like it? And of those of you who grimaced that first time, how many of you kept drinking it until you acquired a taste for it? What was the point of continuing to consume something you didn't like at first? You did it because it was socially expected of you, sure, and you didn't want to be left out. But many of you also did it because you didn't want to miss out on something. You may have absolutely loved grape juice, but that didn't keep you from trying beer, or tea, or coffee, or soda, or wine, or a dozen other drinks. As you went along, you figured out that some of them weren't for you, but the point is, you tried them. You didn't fixate on the first thing that won your heart and figure that was good enough.

Why are superheroes good enough, for so many comics fans? No matter how much you enjoy them, why limit yourself to them? Comics fans, as a group, seem more risk adverse than almost any other group of consumers on the planet. "What's wrong with buying and reading what I like", they'll ask. Nothing! But to me, that's not the pertinent question. The question is, "why do you suppose superheroes are the only thing you would like?" It's true for virtually any form of entertainment, especially those pertaining to storytelling. I have a weakness for killer animal and disaster movies. I could watch "The Towering Inferno" once a month for the rest of my life. But I do not, I cannot, understand the type of thinking that would lead to me watching only killer animal and disaster movies forever.

Sometimes I see threads on comic related forums like "What's the saddest/scariest/etc comic you've ever read?" and it breaks my heart when the answer is Daredevil #124 or something. Not that Daredevil #124 might not be pretty damn sad, or that their emotional response is invalid. It's that asking a person who only reads superhero comics for their saddest comic is like asking a Jehovah's Witness for their favorite holiday. They just don't have the breadth of experience to make an informed choice.

I realize this might not be a very popular view. This is just me and my prejudices talking. If it makes you happy to only read Spider-Man or Batman comics until you die, so be it. You need only answer to yourself and your own tastes. I'm not telling you what to like; I'm asking you to try more stuff before you decide. You might find that it goes down even easier than that first beer.

And if you can't be bothered, hey, I'm still glad you're reading comics at all. There aren't enough of us around. Just forgive me in advance for judging you, just a little. I can't help it.

Indie Comics Corner - Women With Crab Hands and Other Strangeness

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Farrell) — Sat, 24 Sep 2011 04:01:00 +0000

So far my posts have been, in some way or another, very focused on the mainstream. Time to dip into the deeper, weirder end of the pool.

Hopefully this will be a semi-regular "feature" in which I'll give brief introductions and reviews for an assortment of eclectic comics fare from truly Indie publishers; there not only won't be any DC or Marvel stuff here, but no Boom!, no IDW, no Adhouse or Top Shelf. These publishers are usually going to be one man or woman with a dream and the will to create, and the results can be interesting and memorable, if not always polished.

I've had the first two issues of Reich for quite a while now. They are among the only comics published by Sparkplug that I own, and with the recent, untimely passing of publisher Dylan Williams, I thought it was time that I finally checked them out.
Reich is the biography of Wilhelm Reich, an eccentric psychoanalyst who studied, among other things, "orgastic potency." Writer/artist Elijah Brubaker has researched his life and work, attempting to separate fact from the considerable rumor and fiction such a divisive and unusual figure has bred, and successfully writes a captivating story about a largely unlikable man. His large headed and expressive figures convey personality and emotion well, further drawing us into Reich and his world.

There appear to be eight issues of this series completed so far; I recommend them to fans of biographical fiction, raconteurs, orgastic potency, and Chester Brown's Louis Riel. All eight issues of Reich and a LOT more are available at: Sparkplug Comics.

The only convention I attend every year is Stumptown Comics Festival in my hometown of Portland, Oregon. It's one big artists alley (no vendors), where the few well known names rub elbows with the best and brightest of the Indie comics scene. You find things there that you won't find anywhere else, and I love it. One of the artists I discovered there several years ago is Jonathan Dalton; his tales of mythology and world history and cultures, all drawn in intricate detail, have never let me down. Maida Kilwa is very short, but intriguing, and according to Dalton, a likely subject for considerable expansion in the future. There's not much I can say about it now...it's only 8 pages long or so, but Dalton quickly draws me into a story with more questions than answers (why and how is this girl from Mars? What happened with the train and her Aunt?) and makes me keen to answer them. Here's his website: Jonathan Dalton.

Minicomics are a diverse and unpredictable lot, and sometimes they fail to click. Such was the case for me with Dolltopia by Abby Benson. A story about living, talking dolls, it's written very simply, by design I'm sure, but the dialogue and lack of dramatic tension of any kind failed to engage me. The point she's making seems a bit conflicted; on the one hand, it seems to be a plea for individuality and choice, but given that choice, our doll protagonist seems mostly interested in superficial things like shopping. Maybe that's the point. Anyway, it was a very quick read and not at all unpleasant, just not something that will stick with me. Her website: AbbyComix.

If you've been wondering where crab hands come into all this, wonder no longer. Freaks and outcasts of every type and description all find themselves drawn to The Deformitory in this strange and oddly compelling comic by Sophia Wiedeman. I'm not sure what to make of it all but it did cast a sort of spell on me...people (and slug-people, and crab-people, and...you get the idea) weave in and out of this loosely structured narrative like dream figures. A man spends his entire life in a tower of his own creation, waiting for another glimpse of a unicorn that he saw as a child. A mermaid with the body of an octopus laments the fact that no one will hang out with her, but shows the same cruelty to a woman with the bottom half of a slug. And our crab handed lady doesn't just have crustacean appendages; they talk, make fun of her, and eventually attempt to murder her.

A great deal can probably be wrung out of these odd figures and their afflictions, and the ways in which they react to them and each other. I haven't devoted that level of thought to them yet, but I was entertained and surprised by nearly every page of this curious little book, and I recommend it highly. See Sophia's work at: SophiaDraws.

REVIEW: Mark Twain's Autobiography 1910-2010

noreply@blogger.com (zack kruse) — Fri, 23 Sep 2011 14:21:00 +0000

Michael Kupperman just may be the one of the funniest people planet. At least that’s what Conan O’Brian thinks, he wrote it as an endorsement for Kupperman’s latest book, Mark Twain’s Autobiography 1910-2010.

It just so happens that I agree with Conan. Kupperman is a comedic genius. Filled with deliberately odd syntax, wizards, snarky dialog, vampires, outer space adventures, car chasing UFOs, and nearly every significant event of the past one hundred years Mark Twain’s Autobiography is easily the funniest thing that I have read in a very, very long time. Come to think of it, I don’t think I have ever read anything funnier. Nearly every page had me rolling. It wasn’t just a chuckle or even a hearty guffaw, either. It was maniacal, hysterical, snorting, crying, temporarily not breathing, and contorting my body into uncomfortable shapes type of laughing. It’s that goddamn funny. So funny, in fact, that I would be entirely satisfied if Kupperman went ahead and decided to write the biographies of everyone else, ever.

Published by Fantagraphics, the book is a mixture of prose, comic art, and single panel cartoons that guide us through Mark Twain’s amazing life after his alleged death in 1910. The book’s forward informs us that Kupperman received a mysterious telegram, via FedEx, that he could not ignore. It demanded that he come at once to a secret and mysterious location where he met Mark Twain in person. Twain forced a manuscript into Kupperman’s hands and commanded him to publish it; because Twain felt that the story must be told, but his non-death had to remain a secret. Twain knew that no one would believe Kupperman anyway, so he was a perfect candidate to publish the work. Twain even encouraged Kupperman to utilize his cartooning skills in the book saying, “You should decorate it with your silly drawings, to further undermine the credibility. Perhaps a few comical strips as well.” Kupperman, naturally, obliged. What came after that is an incredible journey.

I’m hesitant to quote from the book any further than that, because it’s really something that readers ought to experience for themselves. The humor has a bizarre, unique tenor to it that is very much what one would expect from Michael Kupperman; however, it also is reminiscent of that unique flare that Twain brought to his work, which really stops this book from just being humorous and makes it brilliant. It’s unfair to the reader to spoil that experience here. It simply must be experienced.

Fans of Mark Twain’s actual writings will not only recognize Twain’s certain influence and love of the absurd, but they will also recognize the parallels between Kupperman’s bizarre tales and the outrageous, false, news stories that Twain wrote during his time as a newspaperman in his younger days. Twain’s hoax articles were just as convincing as they were absurd and were often bizarre claims or involved a fictitious murder of some sort. He was forced to flee San Francisco because his satire/works of fiction/hoaxes were taken as true accounts, which left police officials none too pleased. With that in mind, it’s hard for me to imagine that Mark Twain would not approve of this book.

The book’s prose pieces make up the bulk of the work and are written in a sort of semi-essay format. They’re not fully detailed chapters, rather just one or two pages briefly explaining a story—not dissimilar to what you would read as a blog or message board post. There are lots of run on sentences and odd syntax, but both are clearly deliberate and add to the humor of the story being told in each chapter. If you prefer an older way of thinking about these things, they read as letters to the editor, or as crazy lies that your grandfather may tell you in a drunken haze, or like the type of stories that you would hear from “Open Line” callers on Coast to Coast AM. It’s as though, in Kupperman’s world, Abe Simpson is playing the roll of Mark Twain.

Kupperman’s sequentials and single panel cartoons are presented in his clean, deceptively simple, style that has a certain everyman appeal to it. What I love about Kupperman’s art is his mixture of loose details and the almost cut ‘n paste nature of the way certain actions are drawn or costumes are given to characters—there’s a sort of paper doll quality to it. It’s really a brilliant maneuver on his part that captures the absurdity of the scene in a way that a more standard style of cartooning could not. Additionally, the limited color pallet of just blues and grays is well played as it maintains the “authentic” feel of the tales. Using only the black and white line work or a full color pallet simply would not work here and would detract from the humor on the page. Leaving it uncolored, the line work would ask the reader to fill in too much information. Using a full color pallet here would eliminate the unique experience that a limited pallet brings. A full color pallet would also negate any sentimental feelings readers had towards older prose books that they may have encountered in their childhood that contained monochromatic spot illustration. It’s that semi-unconscious sentimentality that makes this work feel the way it “should”; as well as heightening the humor.

The seamless blending of the prose and cartooning make the work a unique experience that is distinct to Kupperman and his style of humor.

Humor, like all other forms of art and literature, is difficult to objectively quantify. Frankly, it’s not even worth trying to objectively quantify it because, even if rationally possible, the beauty of humor, art, and literature is the experience that the reader and observer take away from it. It is often those experiences; however random, absurd, or infrequent they may be that allow us to connect with others. They allow us to connect with the creators of a specific work; they allow us to connect with historical figures in new and exciting ways, and, often, they force us to think about our opinions. It’s often the comedian and not the philosopher that will cause us to truly reflect on our actions and what we think of the world; and sometimes the comedian is the philosopher. I certainly think that is true for Mark Twain, and Kupperman’s work here emphasizes that point in a brilliantly absurd fashion.

Mark Twain's Autobiography 1910-2010

Michael Kupperman

Fantagraphics Books

SRP: $19.99

X-Men and the Micronauts - Back Issue Review

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 21 Sep 2011 10:09:00 +0000

Original Publication Date: January 1984 - April 1984

Writers: Chris Claremont & Bill Mantlo

Pencils: Butch Guice

Inks: Bob Wiacek

Colors: Bob Sharen

Letters: Michael Higgins

Editor: Bob Budiansky

The Review: Ahhhh, the early and mid 1980's.... When Marvel still did comics based on licensed properties. I guess as a kid I was aware that there was a Micronauts comic and some of my buddies had the toys, but I never read it. Now days on message boards, folks always say Micronauts was a great comic run, so it's kinda "on my list" along with a lot of other things that I may or may not ever read.

Despite being a huge X-Men fan, I somehow missed this miniseries as a kid. Probably the 7/11 where I bought my comics didn't get the issues. Regardless, I read this miniseries fresh as an adult over the last week. We all know that can be really dangerous; unlike today's comics which are written for adults, these comics were written for 12 year old boys and sometimes they're not good in hindsight [Like Crisis on Infinite Earths....unreadable].

It turns out this story holds up pretty well. We start out being introduced to the Micronauts who are facing an attack on the microverse by The Entity (catchy, huh?) which threatens the very fabric of the microverse. During an attack by The Entity, the Micronauts's sentient ship and their arch-enemy, Baron Karza, get zapped to the Xavier School and the fun is on. Of course, the X-Men get shrunk down to size and travel to the microverse and after many high-jinks, the problem is solved.

THIS is how to introduce a team...

The big highlight of this miniseries is the artwork by Butch Guice. Sometimes when you go back and reread these 80's comics, you get unpleasant surprises in the art department (like Al Migrom) because kids just didn't care about art much back then. But, the art in this series is glorious...even though it's from an era where the artists where concerned with storytelling first and making pretty pictures secondly. Guice does really nice traditional superhero anatomy and he could draw a wonderful pretty lady.

I feel a SPOILER WARNING is useful, since I was reading this series for the first time and enjoyed a few of the twists. Surprise #1 is that during their initial battle with Baron Karza, the psyches of the Baron and Kitty Pryde get switched. So, much of the series features "Kitty" traveling with the X-Men and being a little off (since she's really the Baron) and the Baron being a little weird around his minions since he's really Kitty. Lots of thought bubbles from teammates saying, "Hmmm, Kitty seems very quite and withdrawn...." And, it leads to some typical handwringing from Kitty about how she might be "trapped" in this form and away from Peter

Surprise #2 is that The Entity is really the evil part of Xavier's psyche. I didn't really enjoy this aspect too much because I've never enjoyed X-Men stories that revolved around Xavier. I've also never really enjoyed stories where the good guy turns evil because the whole point seems to be, "Be glad he's on our side kiddies, because he is REALLY powerful. Muh ha ha!" However, the one cool thing is that as The Entity, Xavier manifests some golden gladiator armor that he first used in Uncanny #117. It's always neat when a miniseries tosses out little bits of red meat to the hardcore fanbase.

END SPOILERS

A couple of weird observations too:

This was back when Wolverine could still smoke. And.....he was in the brown uniform!
Due to the fact that we have two Xavier's in this story, we get a single page where Good Xavier is possessing Dani Moonstar in our world while The Entity is putting the moves on a scantily-clad Kitty Pryde in the microverse. Even though the scene with Dani isn't overtly sexual, it's still kinda creepy. But, seeing the Xavier's subconscious is thinking about sleeping with a ~14 year old girl is just disturbing as hell. Especially when you add the wrinkle that the Baron is trapped in Kitty's body. Kinky dude, that Xavier!
Do you X-fans remember when the New Mutants were getting rammed down our throats? Well, this is right in the heart of that time, so be prepared: Lots of New Mutant action.

Conclusion: If you're an fan of the X-Men or the Micronauts and/or have an affinity for 80's comics, this is well worth checking out. I'm not sure if it's ever been collected, but the issues are dollar bin fare. Check it out.

Grade: B

- Dean Stell

Sex & Violence in comics

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 18 Sep 2011 14:07:00 +0000

Dan Slott started a twitter conversation last night where he asked comic readers who are parents what level of sex and violence they want to see in comics. As you can imagine, the responses ran the gamut from full on NC-17 content to no sex/violence at all.

But, one theme that did pop out repeatedly was how much implied sexual content existed in shows "we" watched in the late 70's and early 80's. One example that Slott brought up was Three's Company. That show had the running gag that Jack was homosexual (which was why it was "okay" for him to live with single women) and tons of sexual innuendo.

I tend to fall pretty strongly into the "unlimited violence but no sex" in my Marvel/DC comics. Now, non-Big 2 are another matter as I love anything with pretty girls in it (although I am more a cheesecake fan than a sex scene fan). Why is that?

Here's what it comes down to for me: I have a daughter. I worry not one iota about her slicing off a friend's head with a sword or shooting up her school while imagining a scene from Punisher. But, my biggest worry as a parent is pregnancy. Pretty much all the other juvenile problems can be healed. There is rehab for drugs and even if you go through a phase of stealing cars as a juvenile, you can eventually still go to college and lead a productive life. Heck...you can even stop being a stripper.

Pregnancy is different. My hat is off to those who have thrived as teen parents, but I'm talking about this from a parent's (specifically a father's) point of view. But, no father in 2011 hopes that his daughter will have a child before she is (a) finished with her education, (b) established in her career and (c) married. That's the optimal that we're all shooting for.

So, why do I care about this more than many fathers a generation ago? Well, I have a few theories which may or may not be based in fact:

The whole AIDS thing. I was born in 1973, so I went to high school and college in the late 80's and early 90's. Everyone was freaked out by AIDS because it was a death sentence back then and we had just realized that it wasn't just a disease that gay men and IV drug users got. The orgy-like behavior from the 60's and 70's may have sounded like the good old days, but we could hardly imagine anything less wise.
Little girls have more career goals and possibilites than a few generations ago. Increasingly, more girls than men go to college and graduate school in the United States. Go back to the 70's and 80's and women we only starting to emerge from a society that expected them to be teachers, nurses or secretaries. Heck....in some of those jobs, pregnancy could even be a tool to make a physician or businessman marry you. How times have changed!
Father's are generally more involved in their daughter's lives than generations ago. The goal used to be: get them married so they're off the payroll. Now fathers are involved in their daughter's lives and share in their daughter's hopes and dreams which are more extensive that being a homemaker for a surgeon.

So, you take all of that, and I DO cringe a little bit every time there is a hint in any Marvel or DC comic that people having sex is somehow cool, hip and desirable. That's what I have my non-Big 2 comics for (Tarot, Cavewoman, etc.), but I kinda want Spider-Man and the Avengers to be clean.

If you have a different opinion, I'd love to hear it. For what it's worth, I've heard parents of boys say exactly the opposite: They worry about their boys crippling a friend trying out a move seen in a Deadpool comic, but they really don't care how much sex their sons have.

- Dean Stell

Double page spreads & Digital comics

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 14:41:00 +0000

This DC relaunch sure has been fun, right? I've enjoyed a number of the titles immensely and I'm reading them all digitally.

One thing I was very curious to see was how DC's creators approached double-page spreads with the knowledge that these comics would be distributed digitally. The problem with the double-page spread is that they don't work digitally. They take what should be the most majestic scene of the issue and make it the least impressive.

Don't believe me? Look at this comparison of areas (in square inches):

Normal comic book page: 72.2
Double page comic spread: 144.4
iPad2 screen: 45.9

I'm honestly surprised that the iPad's screen is only 63% the size of a standard comic page because reading normal comic pages on the iPad isn't off-putting at all. But, the double-page spreads end up being displayed at less than 1/3 of the intended size. Suddenly all the scale and majesty is lost as we squint to even read the words on the page.

But, sometimes it works better than others. Let's look at a few examples:

Justice League #1 by Geoff Johns and Jim Lee:

This is kinda the no-harm/no-foul of the digital double-page spread. Maybe we don't get the thrill of a BIG image, but we digital readers can still see the whole of the action because the double-page spread is just one big image. However, Johns/Lee could have accomplished this same effect digitally with a single-page slash image and that would have freed up an extra page for Batman and Green Lantern to talk to each other in the sewer.

Avengers #1 by Brian Michael Bendis & John Romita, Jr.:

This is an example of a double page spread that doesn't work digitally. It gets really small and you can't read the letters. Other examples are those double-page spreads that are just normal panels, but have been arranged such that you have to read them across both pages instead of reading the left page first. In my honest opinion, these sorts of double page spreads add very little to the paper comic and since they don't work digitally, creators should stop using these sorts of layouts now.

Batwoman #1 by JH Williams, III:

Of course, there always has to be a dude who gets special treatment. JH Williams, III is one of the true masters of the comic art form and double-page spreads are kinda what he does. He could surely figure out how to do beautiful art without using both pages, but he is such a transcendent talent that he gets to do the comic any way he wants. However, I'm not convinced that this rule should apply to other artists because they just aren't as good. It's kinda like how a normal drivers license allows you to drive normal cars, but you have to get a special license and training if you want to also drive motorcycles or semi-trucks. Perhaps double-page spreads are something that JHW and a few other guys "get" to do and the other dudes need to make it work on a single page. For JHW, I'll suck it up and buy the paper copies.

And, before anyone belly-aches about how the artists should be allowed to produce their comics any way they want.... Hush! Artists (and writers) already have to make a bajillion compromises to work in commercial comic books. This is hardly the most taxing thing anyone has asked of them. This is probably just the first of many changes that digital will have on comics and it'll be interesting to see how it all plays out.

- Dean Stell

The New 52...On a Budget

noreply@blogger.com (Jason Farrell) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 04:18:00 +0000

I'm one broke-ass comic collector lately. I don't really have anything to complain about; like a lot of the members of family Comicus Collecticus I have shelves full of unread material that my current budgetary restrictions are an open invitation to catch up on. What it has meant, however, is that even if I were inclined to sample some of the DC relaunch titles I would have to pick and choose which ones to buy very carefully. When it comes to comics, I don't do restraint well. And I don't particularly like missing out on the conversation. So what can I do?

Read previews, that's what. Normally, I don't read previews. In this case, it's all I have the chance to read, so read them I shall. This is really an experiment on several levels: reading previews in the first place, and trying books (like Superboy) that I would ordinary have only the slightest interest in.

These "reviews" should be taken with an entire shaker of salt. I don't really believe it's fair to judge or review a book based on 3-5 pages of it. These are my half-baked impressions based on those previews and you should not place any value on them whatsoever. You have been warned.

Superboy: Remember how I just said I had only the slightest interest in this? Oddly enough, this turned out to be perhaps the most intriguing of the previews I've read (spoilers!). I liked the set-up. Art was fine. Kinda want to see where this goes, don't know if I will.

Batman and Robin: The artwork was very nice in a Peter Snejberg kinda way. It felt like a reasonably competent Batman story, of which there are literally thousands, but I didn't get the impression it had the potential to rise above that.

O.M.A.C.: Kill me now, cause I do not worship at the feet of Mr. Kirby. I didn't grow up with his work, and it is not the sort of thing that calls to me now. I do have his 2001 series, and some of the early FF stuff. I say all that to point out that nostalgia does not factor into my enjoyment (or lack thereof) of this comic. On its own merits, though, I dug it. It was brisk and bold and fun. Nice touches abound, even in the few pages I was able to read.

Hawk and Dove: The art was better than the writing...in a book Rob Liefeld drew. Let that sink in for a moment.

Stormwatch: So-so. Not really seeing (from these pages at least) why all the negative reaction to the art. Didn't hook me, didn't make me gag.

Batwing: I like the idea of incorporating the African setting. I really like the artwork with its Jae-Lee-on-Dark-Tower airbrushed style. This preview intrigued me a itty-bitty bit, but being an action scene, I didn't get any sense of where this was going, or how it would distinguish itself from other Batman books.

Green Arrow: Dan Jurgens has a clean, classic style; the same style, in fact, that he's been using for roughly a billion years. It's not my cuppa. Some of it looks downright ugly. I was thinking for 3 of the 4 pages that the script was bland but not obnoxious. Then I hit page 4, where we get such expository gems as "But that will bring the police as well. They'll just as likely shoot you, even though you're on their side." Okay, the writer thinks I'm a dolt. Pass.

Demon Knights: A lot of the new #1 issues have suffered from trying to explain too much, too fast, often in clunky, old school ways. This felt a bit rushed in that way, but this was otherwise solid. I liked the artwork. If I hear good things about the next couple of issues I might give this a second look.

JLI: Not much to say about this one. I read it a week or so ago and I don't remember anything about it except that Guy Gardner was annoyed or something. I do remember that Batman's cameo seemed forced and stupid to me. Everything about this screamed mediocrity.

Frankenstein: Agent of SHADE: The zoomed in view of the online preview didn't do the noodly artwork many favors so it's hard to judge. It looked better to me at normal size. The last page was pretty cool, though. Man, this is probably the hardest one to get a handle on...it didn't do much for me but I have the sense that it might improve once it gets going. One of several books to introduce characters/powers/etc. one after another after another, very awkwardly.

JL: Couldn't bring myself to finish the preview. 'Nuff said.

Action Comics: Not much to say about this either. Another one that didn't inspire or offend. The artwork was impressive.

Legion Lost: The premise for this sounded appealing to me but the pages I read didn't capitalize on it. Another four pages of nothing but character introduction. Don't writers have more interesting ways of showing us abilities than the characters simply spelling them out to people who would already know about them? "Let me just erect my force field around you. That should protect you against kinetic energy. Just be careful; it's useless against fire and bee spit." Aaaargh!

Alright, I think that's it. There was a Suicide Squad preview but the font was tiny; enlarging the image made the text unreadably blurry. Oh, well.

I also read Detective Comics, but with that one I actually read the whole thing. Good last two pages, poor 20 preceding pages. Lastly, Swamp Thing is one of the few titles I was optimistic enough about to purchase, so I must wait for next month's DCBS order to arrive to read it. I'm looking forward to that.

O Comics! My Comics!

noreply@blogger.com (zack kruse) — Thu, 15 Sep 2011 00:55:00 +0000

Art: Steve Ditko from the story Deep Ruby,
appearing in Eerie #6

Why do we do it? What makes comics so important to us? What makes us stand tall in the face of mockery from obnoxious, ignorant, outsiders? What makes us suffer the sometimes rude, elitist, and cruel words that fellow fans will spew from behind the anonymity of the internet? Why do comics affect us on a deep, emotional level that few other mediums ever have or could? Why would I spend the time writing this column that is coming dangerously close to being a cry for personal validation?

The answer to all of those questions is a simple one: comics are an end in themselves. Neither comics, nor I, need any additional validation. Their very existence proves their worthiness and that they are a worthwhile pursuit.

Comics are the medium that allowed Steve Ditko to create insane, engrossing, and bizarre new dimensions that rivaled any surrealist painting. Comics allowed Jack Kirby to invent incredible machines and gods that were truly worthy of fear and worship. Because of Comics Harvey Pekar forced us consider the joys, sadness, and subtle complexity of ordinary life in a new way. Comics allowed Harvey Kurtzman to tell captivating war stories and simultaneously create one of the greatest humor publications of all-time. Comics allowed Will Eisner to tell genuinely heart wrenching and heart warming stories about life as a cartoonist and as a New Yorker. Comics allowed Alan Moore to expand our minds with psychedelic horror tales in Louisiana swamps. Comics are the medium that allowed Johnny Ryan to redefine the crass humor and dick-jokes. Comics allowed Bill Gaines and Jim Warren to give us shocking tales of horror, suspense, and war in brave, new, thought provoking ways. Comics are the medium allowed Eastman and Laird to create a team of heroes that would forever impact and change an entire generation of people. Comics breathed new life into literary and pulp characters that could have otherwise ended up as footnotes. Comics are the medium that allowed Art Spiegelman to force us to reexamine our relationships and our past. Comics require no permissions. Comics require no validation. Comics are limited only by the imagination of the individuals creating them. Comics demand only your eyes and your mind, but they will feed your heart, your soul, and will alter they way you experience the world, its art and its literature.

Comics do not create or cultivate the negativity that we often experience as fans, enthusiasts, and historians. People do. The value of Comics offset any other negativity that can, and occasionally does, surround them. Oftentimes, we don’t even recognize that offset. We take it for granted, but it’s there.

Comics are the alpha and the omega. There is no greater medium to have ever existed. We deal with the aggravation and annoyances because, somewhere, we recognize that on one level or another.

Comics have given us all something, whether it was an escape, a sense of self-worth, an intellectual pursuit, or something even greater or much smaller. Comics gave us those things, not because of some altruistic goal of their creators or publishers. Comics gave us those things because they are inherent within the medium itself. Comics demand that we recognize their greatness, and we do it with every purchase, every convention visit, every fond memory, and every enthusiastic conversation. And because we recognized their greatness, we have been rewarded with all of those feelings. We made Comics and Comics made us.

Long live Comics!