“Alan Moore has earned his frustration, his suspicions and his occasional flashes of anger. He should be listened to and learned from, not dismissed and certainly never mocked.” — Tom Spurgeon

When the comic book industry first coalesced in the late 1930s, it adopted a business model that, to put it lightly, did not put an emphasis on ethical behavior. These were publishing companies run by greedy, exploitive people who had questionable connections to gangsters or had been indicted for mail fraud. They cared little about the quality of their product, the well-being of their workers–sorry, freelancers–or seeing that anyone who contributed to their success was fairly and duly compensated.

Here we are, roughly 80 years later, and everything has changed. Whoops, I’m sorry. I mean nothing has changed. It’s still an ugly, cutthroat industry where publishers are all too happy to grab as many rights as they can to artists’ hard-won work whenever said artists are willing to take those sucker bets. It’s an industry dominated by cynical publishing ventures and easy cash grabs rather than an interest in creating long range, sustainable business models. Perhaps the worst thing about our current era is that those who have legitimate reason to complain about their mistreatment are the ones most frequently shouted down by a certain cross-section of their fans, a mercenary bunch who seem to care more for ensuring that they never, ever lose the chance to get more of the same in a timely fashion than if the people producing that same are treated with a certain amount of decency and respect.

Of course, it wasn’t supposed to be that way. The comics boom of the 1980s that gave rise to the indie, b&w movement also gave rise to a vigorous interest in creators rights. People like Alan Moore, Dave Sim, Steve Bissette, Scott McCloud, Neal Adams and Frank Miller saw what had happened to industry veterans like Jack Kirby and Steve Gerber, and were justifiably outraged. They spoke out against these perceived injustices and continually pushed for better compensation and to have a greater stake in the comics they produced, whether on their own or with a major publisher. The creator-owned works we see from companies like Dark Horse and Vertigo, the royalties that current artists and writers receive on work-for-hire projects — that’s all a direct result of these efforts.

Watchmen was supposed to be a part of that movement. As Moore states in a 2005 interview with Heidi MacDonald, the idea was that by creating characters out of whole cloth rather than relying on the Charlton bunch, Moore and Gibbons would be given the rights to Watchmen (and also V for Vendetta, which Moore handed over to DC in order to finish the project) one year after they went out of print, which they expected to happen as soon as the series was completed. To my knowledge, DC has never disputed Moore’s description of events.

Of course, we know how that turned out. Watchmen caught the rising winds of the burgeoning graphic novel movement and ended up never going out of print. Moore and Gibbons found themselves to be victims of their own success as the book continued to rise in popularity and acclaim, and readers found they preferred reading it in collected trade form to hunting down back issues. It was, as Eric Stephenson, notes, a “dirty deal,” and if it was a turn of events DC didn’t necessarily expect, well, it’s not like they’ve done much to create a more equitable situation in the years since.

You see, whether or not Before Watchmen dilutes the charm of the original comic is irrelevant — creators are just as capable of destroying the goodwill their initial work establishes as easily as corporations are. And the fact that Moore has frequently drawn upon classic literary material in works like Lost Girls and League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is also irrelevant (although let me make an aside here to say that there’s a big difference between building a pastiche using familiar characters and motifs to create something new and original, and rehashing familiar material to make a quick and cynical cash grab). The basic issue here is one of fairness, of creators rights and how this industry operates. It’s about how a work that should have been a shining example of how much had changed in the comics world instead became an example of how everything has stayed the same.

Now, I am a full-time reporter for a daily newspaper. Everything I write for that newspaper is work-for-hire, including the comics column I did for them for a few years. I was not compensated, for example, when an interview I did with Alan Moore was reprinted in the book Alan Moore: Conversations, nor did I expect to receive any compensation, financial or otherwise. On the other hand, I get a weekly salary for my efforts. I get sick days and vacation. I get health care and a 401k plan. I get treated like a valued employee. Moore doesn’t get and never has received any of those things. Yes, his work has been financially successful enough to make some of those compensations moot, but there are very few creators working in this industry that can make similar claims.

If we care at all about the comics industry, if we care about comics as an art form, if we want it to be taken seriously, if we want to see talented people produce quality material, then we need to start caring about the way those people are treated in this industry. We need to start valuing creators rights over our own greedy need for more third-rate pulp. We need to stop making shameless, defensive rationalizations and questioning people’s motives when the basic motive underlying those outbursts is “me wanty.” We need to stop acting like petulant, entitled children. And we need to speak out when creators whose work we claim to value and enjoy are given short shrift in the name of the Almighty dollar.

Cecil and Jordan in New York

Comics College is a monthly feature where we provide an introductory guide to some of the comics medium’s most important auteurs and offer our best educated suggestions on how to become familiar with their body of work.

This month we’re taking a look at one of the most significant cartoonists to come out of the indie scene of the 1990s, Gabrielle Bell.

Why she’s important

Bell’s stories usually deal with people struggling — either to form an identity, to overcome feelings of poor self-esteem or to overcome the small-mindedness of other people. While she’s mainly known for her autobiographical stories, her comics can frequently veer sharply from reality to pure fantasy without any warning. As a result, her work keeps the attentive reader on his or her toes in a manner unlike any other cartoonist working today. You never quite know how “true” Bell’s stories are or in what direction they will take you, which is the central element I find so exciting in her work.

Where to start

Lucky

The short stories collected in Cecil and Jordan in New York contain some of the best work she’s done to date, particularly the title story (which she adapted with director Michel Gondry for the anthology film Tokyo), about a woman who undergoes a startling transformation and “Felix,” about a young artist who starts tutoring the son of a famous sculptor. Whether she’s dealing with the raw autobiography of “Summer Camp,” or the pure, silly, seemingly improvised fantasy of “My Affliction,” Bell betrays a confidence in her storytelling capabilities and an eye for detail that makes her best work so captivating.

From there you should read

Between 2003 and 2004 Bell did a series of autobiographical mini-comics under the assumedly ironic title of Lucky. Those stories were collected in a similarly titled book published in 2006 by Drawn and Quarterly. The bulk of the book is autobiographical, with Bell chronicling her various anxieties and fears, bad jobs, confusion over how to greet French people and various stories her friends tell her. Far from being drab or dull, Bell’s minimalist, straightforward approach makes these stories seem completely relatable and moving.

Bell attempted to do the pamphlet comic thing again in 2008 with a second volume of  Lucky this time published by D&Q. That only lasted two issues, and some of the material is reprinted in Cecil and Jordan, but they’re still worth tracking down anyway, especially the second issue, as it contains a lengthy daily diary that has yet to see the light of day anywhere else.

Further reading

When I'm Old

Bell’s comics can be found in just about any anthology worth buying these days (her story is one of the best things in the new Kramers Ergot) but the bulk of her recent work is located on her website, where she posts updates rather regularly. Her latest story, Inappropriate, is a pretty good example of her current skills. The small press publisher Uncivilized Books has collected a few of these autobiographical stories into minicomics: Diary, L.A. Diary, San Diego Diary and the itty bitty How To Make a Bell Stand. They’re all good and worth picking up, even if you read them online for free first.

Ancillary materials

Bell’s earliest work can be found in When I’m Old and Other Stories, published by the now seemingly defunct Alternative Comics. It’s can be rough work at times — you can sense Bell trying to find her voice as she adopts a variety of different art styles and even genres (the decidedly dark Just One Reason Part II marks one of Bell’s few attempts at horror). Still, there’s a more than a bit of solid work to be found here, and you can see the Bell playing with the themes — especially contrasting mundane reality with absurd fantasy — that would come to dominate her work.

Avoid

While she’s certainly had misfires or stories that fell flat, none of Bell’s work thus far has been so egregiously bad that I’d recommend avoiding it.

Next month: Scott McCloud

Action Comics #5

Welcome to another edition of What Are You Reading. Our guest today is Marc Singer, author of the very excellent book, Grant Morrison: Combining the Worlds of Contemporary Comics, which is an excellent, excellent book that you should read if you’re at all interested in Morrison and his work.

To find out what Singer and other members of the Robot 6 crew are reading this week, simply click on the link below.

Tim O’Shea: If Amazing Spider-Man readers were not already reading Daredevil before this two-part crossover (Amazing Spider-Man 677/Daredevil 8, both written by Mark Waid), the writer sure as hell gave them several

Daredevil #8

good reasons to start reading the book. And for Waid, this must have just been fun to write. In some ways, it read like a throwback to the 1970s Marvel Team-Up issues I grew up reading. In the first part, Waid worked in a scene where Spidey is confused about DD’s secret identity status. Spidey/DD banter is always fun to read, even when it’s marketing work intended to inform a non-DD reader. In the second part, we are given:

1. A Paolo Rivera cover that has me wanting the artist to do a 52-card playing deck of Marvel characters (and a great use of a fire escape for a cover)
2. An exquisite splash page by Kano
3. Waid writes the issue addressing previous plot threads and planting seeds for future issues (a risky approach considering the number of potentially new readers drawn in with this issue) but it works
4. A great billy club meets helicopter scene
5. A smidge more DD/Spidey banter

Amazing Spider-Man 678
This week’s Spidey (Christ, I feel absurd even saying that) offers readers another part one of a two-part story. In the world of neverending event comics (is Fear Itself over yet?), the fact that I get to talk about two two-part stories in one week is a refreshing surprise. If you look back at the number of writers of Spider-Man over the years, there were some writers that seemingly did not know how to write Peter Parker outside of his longjohns. Slott, on the other hand, relishes it. The cast of characters and the scenarios Parker finds himself in, thanks to his Horizon Labs job, allows Slott to stretch his writing muscles. This issue revolves around a time portal doorway that one of his lab associates has developed (Slott, ever the comedic writer, has it be the doorway for the lab’s break rooms. I appreciate Slott and Marvel editorials restraint on this story. A glimpse into the future where New York is destroyed could have easily been stretched out into six parts, so I am appreciative of the fact that this is a fast-paced (so far) two-parter.

T.H.U.N.D.E.R. Agents 3
In the third issue of this six-part miniseries, I am pleased to say that writer Nick Spencer surprised me. Admittedly he’s been revamping the T.H.U.N.D.E.R. history throughout his run with the characters, but his reveal at the end of this issue is one I never expected. I have been often on the fence with this series (a fascination with things Wally Wood-related has made me hang in there though). But there is no doubt I would have bought this issue, no matter what, given that I saw Walter Simonson pitched in to do some scenes. (And yeah, I cannot believe I forgot to pick up this week’s Legion of Superheroes 5, a standalone completely drawn by Simonson). On a Simonson-related note, if you are a fan of his like I am, go read the brief interview Josie Campbell did with him for CBR. Even in that brief exchange, Simonson unleashes some great gems of details—about his dad and other things.

Approximate Continuum Comics

Chris Mautner: You know who’s great? Lewis Trondheim, the incredibly prolific French cartoonist. Evidence comes in two recent publications, both autobiographical. The first is Approximate Continuum Comics, an English translation of a six-part series Trondheim published in the 1990s concerning his struggles in the comics industry, desire for success and acclaim and just general angst, anxiety and feelings of self-doubt. It sounds all terribly self-involved to the point of tedium, but Trondheim is simply too skilled a storyteller to allow his own ego to override the quality of his work. Approximate is filled with wonderful visual inventions, like an early daydream about dealing with obnoxious passangers on the subway. More to the point, Trondheim’s self-effacing sense of humor is so charming and revealing that the book never becomes too solipsistic or insufferable. Time has dimmed its

Trondheim continues to reveal his life to readers on a weekly basis over at his Web site (and the NBM blog), most of which has been collected in his “Little Nothings” series. The lastest book, My Shadow in the Distance, offers more of the same, and such a wonderful same it is. The material in Shadows is more one-page humor strips, similar to, say, American Elf, but Trondheim hasn’t lost any of his angst or irritation at modern life and travel. If anything he’s become a more accomplished artist, especially with watercolor, which graces the content of Shadows in lovely wash tones. Plus, it’s really funny.

Do the Gods Wear Capes?

Marc Singer: I’ve just picked up a ton of books, scholarly and otherwise. Right now I’m in the middle of Do the Gods Wear Capes? Spirituality, Fantasy, and Superheroes by Ben Saunders (which is absolutely not about how superheroes are “a modern mythology” and is all the better for it). I’ve also been leafing through Pat Harrigan and Noah Wardrip-Fruin’s Third Person: Authoring and Exploring Vast Narratives, a collection of essays about comics, television, video games, tabletop RPGs, and other media that lend themselves to huge, open-ended narratives. For fun I’ve been reading Kim Newman’s Mysteries of the Diogenes Club, a collection of short stories published by Chris Roberson’s MonkeyBrain Books. Newman has created his own “vast narrative” about the Diogenes Club, a group of occult investigators and secret agents that stretches from Mycroft Holmes to the present day. But I need to clear some of these out of the way, because the book I’m most looking forward to reading is Charles Hatfield’s Hand of Fire: The Comics Art of Jack Kirby.

As far as comics go, I’m pretty much a lock for anything Grant Morrison writes, so I’ve been following Action Comics since the big DC relaunch. I have mixed feelings about this one. For all of Morrison’s pre-release hype about writing a working-class “Bruce Springsteen version of Superman,” the comic never really delivered on his promise of an old-school Siegel and Shuster superhero who takes on crooked contractors and greedy mine owners. Hints of that approach were wedged into the first two issues — just barely — before they were shoved out in favor of the kind of ‘definitive’ origin retelling that attempts to cram in Brainiac, Metallo, Steel, and as many other old familiar faces as possible.

On the other hand, social realism has never really been Morrison’s strong suit and he handles the fantasy elements with more confidence. Each issue has been better than the one before it, with the possible exception of the origin story, which manages to do in twenty pages what Morrison once did in four panels and eight words. Still, he writes a suitably heroic House of El and each issue adds some new details that are collectively adding up to a bigger picture. I just can’t shake the feeling that the book’s craft and its ambitions are moving in opposite directions. (And it’s never a good sign when you find yourself looking forward to the fill-in artists.)

Batman Incorporated: Leviathan Strikes was much more to my tastes. I’m not certain this “corporate franchise” phase of Morrison’s Batman mega-narrative is going to amount to much more than a fast-paced team-up book, but with incredibly talented artists like Cameron Stewart and Chris Burnham on board, I don’t care. And Morrison’s compact, modular storytelling lets him work in a wide range of genres without losing focus: any book that can go from St. Trinian’s to Steranko is all right by me.

The Flash

The most pleasant surprise of the DC relaunch has been Francis Manapul and Brian Buccellato’s Flash. Manapul’s approach to the Flash — using the character’s speed powers and accelerated perceptions as an excuse to experiment with different ways of representing time and motion on the page — is so perfect that you can’t believe nobody’s tried it yet. At the moment, Manapul’s still deeply indebted to his influences (the most recent issue trades Frank Quitely for J. H. Williams III) but I get the sense that when he fully absorbs their styles and starts creating his own visual idiom, this book is going to look even more amazing than it already does.

Flash radiates a pure joy in being a comic book that, among mainstream superhero books, is rivaled only by Mark Waid, Paolo Rivera, and Marcos Martin’s work on Daredevil. This is another one of those so-obvious-it’s-genius ideas—building a comic around Daredevil’s senses, which forces Waid and company to devise new ways to represent sound and texture on the smooth, silent page. It’s a testament to their skill that they make it look easy.

If you want to talk about sheer joy in comics as comics, it doesn’t get much more ecstatic than the crescendo of creatively designed, emotionally charged pages that Jaime Hernandez builds up to in his final story for the latest volume of Love and Rockets: New Stories. But Jaime’s command of his art—every aspect of his art, from lines to layouts to inks to body language to facial expressions—is so great that a single panel of Reno slouching away into the shadows can be just as breathtaking as the double-page spread that sums up the relationship of Maggie and Ray. A couple of years ago, I was hoping that Jaime’s foray into the loopy superhero sci-fi of the Ti-Girls would lead to a renewed freshness and vitality in his more realistic stories. “The Love Bunglers” delivers, big time. At this point Love and Rockets: New Stories probably doesn’t need any more rave reviews, but Jaime’s work is still the highlight of my comics pile.

Action! Mystery! Thrills!

Action! Mystery! Thrills!: Comic Book Covers of the Golden Ages, 1933-1945
Edited by Greg Sadowski
Fantagraphics Books, 208 pages, $29.99

Amazing Mysteries: The Bill Everett Archives Vol. 1
Edited by Blake Bell
Fantagraphics Books, 224 pages, $39.99

Young Romance: The Best of Simon & Kirby’s Romance Comics
Edited by Michael Gagne
Fantagraphics Books, 200 pages, $29.99

Our current publishing era has been dubbed the Golden Age of Reprints by a number of online pundits, myself included, and it’s not too hard to see why. Classic comics that fans and scholars never thought would make it to the bookbinders, let alone be available in an affordable version, are now coming off the presses at a staggering rate.

One of the benefits of this plethora of reprint projects is it allows us to re-examine certain noteworthy periods of comics history, help us discover long ignored artists and fully consider cartoonists who, though their names might have been recognizable, have largely been unappreciated except by a few. The alleged Golden Age of comics in particular has benefited from this scrutiny, not only  in illuminating people like Fletcher Hanks but in showcasing work by folks like Jack Cole and Bill Everett.

One of the people leading the way in this specific endeavor is editor Greg Sadowski, who, in anthologies like Supermen! and Four Color Fear, has given average readers access to comics from well-covered eras (i.e. the early superhero and horror trends) merely by republishing stories that didn’t come from Marvel (or whatever it was called at the time), EC or DC.

Sadowski’s latest book, Action! Mystery! Thrills! has a somewhat even narrower focus, dealing entirely with comic book covers from the Golden era. It makes a certain amount of sense. While covers are still an integral part of marketing and selling a comic, they were even more essential back in those early, heady days, when you competed with hundreds of other titles and an eye-catching cover could mean the difference between profit and cancellation (or at least that’s what many editors and publishers of the time felt).

If you’ve read any of Sadowski’s collections before, you should be familiar with the format by now. A short introduction or forward, followed by the work in question, uninterrupted by commentary, which is usually saved in the back of the book in some sort of “notes” section.

That’s certainly the case here as Sadowski peels through an assortment of covers, both notable for their historical significance as well as their aesthetic traits. A number of well-known artists are featured prominently here, including Will Eisner, Walt Kelly, Jack Cole, Lou Fine, Mac Raboy and Charles Biro. He seems to have a special fondness for the work of Alex Schomburg, a Timely/Marvel artist whose work mainly consisted of heroes leaping into action just as the barely dressed damsel (and perhaps a sidekick or two) was about to some horrible violent fate, usually involving elabore machinery and/or knives, from a gang of hooded evil-doers.

Honestly, while I can see the appeal in Schomburg’s frantic, almost cartoonish designs, I found myself preferring Cole’s elegant compositions or Raboy’s stately, illustrative offerings to Schomburg’s overly busy, cluttered covers, where it seems something had to be happening in every single corner lest the eye have a moment to rest.

And while I enjoyed Thrills (I’m especially grateful for being exposed to the neon-color stylings of L.B. Cole, who seems to prefigure the era of black velvet paintings), it’s definitely the slightest — the most coffee tableish — of Sadowski’s books so far. It feels like a book designed more to flip through than to mull over. Even Sadowski’s notes seem less considered and more perfunctory than before. That’s not necessarily a bad thing — there’s certainly pleasures to be had in re-examining these covers, as garish as some of them are — but it does make it a lesser star in the reprint galaxy.

Amazing Mysteries

As one of the pioneers of the comic book format, naturally Bill Everett is featured prominently in Thrills. He takes the starring role, however, for the Blake Bell-edited Amazing Mysteries, the first in what I assume is to be a multi-volume collection of the Sub-Mariner creator’s non-Marvel work, much in the same way Bell has been collecting and packaging Steve Ditko’s early material.

Bell keeps things in mostly chronological order here, although he does organizes the “chapters” according to the different characters Everett created, like Music Master, Hydroman and the disturbingly androgynous Dirk the Demon.

What’s exciting for me about this book is watching Everett develop as an artist and storyteller and figure out the medium in relatively rapid fashion. His lettering, clunky and stylized in his initial Skyrocket Steele story, quickly more straightforward and easier to read. His composition becomes more assured and dramatic. He clearly starts thinking of the page as a unit and not a bunch of unrelated panels as they stories start to seem less cluttered and more refined.

The heroes themselves seem an odd mish-mash that belong more to the “maybe this will sell” school than anything else. Everett rarely spends more than a story or two on any particular character, jumping from the generic spaceman Steele to the generic cowboy Bullseye Bill to the oddly dressed but still generic superhero The Conqueror, with little seeming thought between the various adventures except how best to depict the action.

Everett’s interest clearly lied with some of his more eccentric creations. Hydroman, for instance, is a obvious favorite. As a precursor to the Sub-Mariner, he’s certainly a figure many historians draw attention towards (apparently Everett had a thing about water). Dressed in a bulletproof cellophane outfit, Everett clearly got a kick out of depicting Hydroman in a variety of aqua-based scenarios —  a glass of water here, an ocean liner there — and and frequently draws him in in the middle of a transformation as he rushes out to surprise and subdue the bad guys, the rough water lines literally and figuratively coalescing in the panel to form a human figure.

That fluidity also graces Music Master, a hero who can transform himself into literal sound waves, with a string of notes trailing behind where the lower half of his body should be. Perhaps the oddest creation, though, is Amazing-Man a seemingly invulnerable (and at times invisible) character who gets his powers from an unnamed Eastern cult who goes from battling whip-wielding criminals to an entire (presumably German) army. The stop and go nature of these tales, combined with the Everett’s attempt at creating a continuing story arc, give the run a dream-like, off-kilter feel.

The material in Amazing in no way represents Everett’s strongest work, though they do point to his potential — those thrilling Sub Mariner stories were just around the corner. What you see  here are the glimmers of an artist struggling to comprehend the potential of this relatively new medium how he can push it to match his own interests.

Young Romance

Two artists that certainly knew something superheroes were Joe Simon and Jack Kirby. As interest in that genre faded with the end of World War II, however, the pair found themselves looking for other material to publish and quickly hit upon the idea of romance comics, with great success.

It’s a body of work that, though it took up a little over a decade, has been largely glossed over by fans in favor of focusing instead on all the musclemen in the gaudy outfits. Young Romance seeks to rectify that oversight, providing a “best of” collection from that lengthy run.

As you might expect, most of the stories in Romance rely deeply on hackneyed melodrama, clumsy coincidences and last minute changes of heart. What separates Simon and Kirby’s work from their later imitators, at least at first, is that they don’t feel the need to force a happy ending, and are even willing to delve into dark areas if need be. The opening story concerns a “boy-crazy” teen who falls madly in love with her aunt’s suitor, only to lose him at the end because of her flightiness. A young woman in post-war Germany falls in love with an American G.I. only to realize she can’t quite renounce Hitler. A woman behaves monstrously towards her mother in an effort to nab a husband from a higher social caste. And in perhaps the bleakest story in the bunch, a young woman attempts suicide when her lover is accused of a crime he didn’t commit and is given the death penalty.

The book is divided into pre-Code and post-Code and there’s no questions about which section is better. The latter stories are clearly scrubbed clean of anything that might give offense, and the gender roles more clearly defined, with all the women eager to become happy housewives. Even the art, rough and thick initially, gets cleaned up in the post-Code era, lest young readers be freaked out by, I dunno, too much cross-hatching.

Though modern readers may wince at some of the sexual stereotypes on display, not to mention the occasional forced happy ending, Young Romance underscores Simon and Kirby’s keen storytelling skills. Adhering to a mostly six-panel grid, the duo manage to produce work that is  visually arresting and dramatic, despite the fact that the violence is usually contained to the characters’ inner emotions. It’s also worth mentioning that editor Michael Gange’s reproduction work is stellar and apparently painstaking, as he demonstrates in an appendix at the end of the book.

Kirby, teaming up with Stan Lee, would eventually take the skills he learned from these making these romance comics — the over-the-top emotions, the dramatic plot reversals — and apply them with great success to the superhero genre. Young Romance helps show how that transition took place. For Kirby fans and those who just love to explore comics from generations past, it’s a rather essential read.

Welcome to another edition of What Are You Reading. Today our guest is cartoonist, musician and publisher Zak Sally. Sally is known outside comics circles as the former bassist for the band Low, but inside comic circles, he’s known for great books like Like A Dog and the Ignatz series Sammy the Mouse, the collected version of which Sally will be releasing any day now from his own La Mano 21 press.

To see what Sally and the rest of the Robot 6 crew have been reading this week, click on the link below.

Dead Man's Run

Tim O’Shea: Dean Man’s Run 1. The nice thing about being a fan of Greg Pak’s writing? Every once and awhile, you luck out and get a sneak peek of his upcoming work. This Wednesday, January 18, marks the first issue of his collaboration with artist Tony Parker for publisher Aspen Comics, in collaboration with Gale Anne Hurd’s Valhalla on Dead Man’s Run. I’m interested at the set-up Pak has built with this series — hell as a prison with folks looking to break out. Rather than being Con Air Metaphysical or something, the writer casts a guy who happens to be a cartographer the lead of the series. It’s a quirky choice for hero casting (a variation on Amadeus Cho, admittedly) and Pak also constructs a great many monstrous hellmates in the cast that allow Parker to draw some interesting folks. If Pak plans to explore the warden character (as seems to have been teased in this issue) he might the right formula for an engaging series.

Wolverine and the X-Men 4. When has anyone ever described an X-title as fun? It’s an apt term for this Jason Aaron-written series. That’s not to say the read is a goof romp by any measure. While there’s comedic elements, Aaron uses Deathlok as a guest lecturer to great effect in this issue. I’ve not noticed artist Nick Bradshaw prior to this issue, but I like his style.

Batman: The Brave and the Bold 15. The core appeal of this series? Rudimentary tales that are done in one (but that I could see stretched out for four issues in the non-DC Kids/regular DC line). Not to spoil anything but where else could I get a Batman versus Darkseid battle in one regular sized comic book? Thank you writer Sholly Fisch. Side note, the way that Stewart McKenny draws eyes on his heroes reminds me of Fred Hembeck (that’s a compliment in my book).

Secret Avengers 21. This issue has Warren Ellis and Stuart Immonen together again. And everybody wins. If Marvel editorial does not get Ellis to write a Steve Rogers miniseries at some point (unless he has no interest, of course) they are idiots. Ellis’ Rogers is not like Brubaker’s (or like anyone else for that matter). Two bits of Rogers dialogue gave me pause: “I don’t believe in torture. It’s ugly, dishonorable and unreliable… So I’m going to let my colleagues do it.” (A line that could also be interpreted as bluffing on Rogers’ part admittedly, until you see the next scene) Or when a battle starts going south for the Secret Avengers and Rogers suggest blowing up the building where the heroes (other than Rogers) are, Hank McCoy says: “Steve, I have the greatest respect for you. But I will not kill again for you. And especially not my own team.” Which prompts Rogers to respond: “Then give me options.” I was reminded of Ellis’ Global Frequency with this set of issues.

The Shade #4

The Shade 4. This is the writer James Robinson I remember from Starman — writing stories that hooked me from the first panel, lacing teasers of other tales in between bits of dialogue. It would be insane if poor sales kill this miniseries. This particular issue is a Times Past flashback to 1944 drawn by none other than Darwyn Cooke (inked by the equally great J. Bone). Longtime Robinson fans will be pleased to see which masked man he works in this issue. The cinematic visuals of this story are made even more juicy by Dave Stweart’s colors and the exquisite lettering of living legend Todd Klein. Seriously, if I am editor Wil Moss I would just be giddy with the talent I get to wrangle on this project. If you are a fan of Cooke’s art, you need to read this issue, for the love of God the man makes shadows fascinating.

Black Panther 528. What’s more fun than watching Spider-Man or Daredevil beat Kingpin? The methodically thorough way in which Black Panther is torturing Wilson Fisk. Writer David Liss infoms readers that T’challa is one of the smartest heroes in the Marvel universe by actions, not by having characters say: “Wow, is he smart.” Am absolutely bewildered as to how industry veteran Michael Avon Oeming was garnered for an arc that almost everyone (I assume) knew was the series’ swan song. Not an insult of Oeming, I love his work on this story, but surprised to see him involved. I hope this arc is not the last we see of Liss in the Marvel U.

Batman & Robin 5. I think it will be a tight race for the first Robot 6 reader who gets to tell me I am mistaken for liking Peter Tomasi’s Batman in this series more than I like Scott Snyder’s Batman. But it’s true. Tomasi effectively juggles the Alfred (as surrogate grandfather), Batdad and Damian dynamics. Also, I am pleasantly surprised at how strong artist Patrick Gleason is with angst-ridden Bats. Looking forward to seeing how things play out with Damian in issue 6.

Captain America 7. Fairly certain that Brubaker could have all the characters singing “Mah Nà Mah Nà” on a continuous loop and as long as Alan Davis was the artist, I would still say: “outstanding read”. Fortunately Brubaker writes more than that. But honestly, Alan Davis inked by Mark Farmer and colored by Laura Martin (with Larry Molinar) is eye candy of the highest caliber. Excuse me while I redrool over some of the pages. Added bonus, Cap rides shotgun while Sharon drives the flying car. Cannot get enough of the SHIELD flying cars (I am a child of 1960s/1970s Marvel, what can I say).

Scarlet Spider 1. Yeah, it’s a spider clone. But by setting the book in Houston — and with the tagline of “All of the power. None of the responsibility.” writer Christopher Yost and artist Ryan Stegman hope to give readers a book unlike any other Spidey title. And after interviewing Stegman, I think they might have what it takes to succeed. This is striving to be a quirky book — the hero rescues an elderly lady and then cusses her out for putting herself in a dangerous situation. I like what I saw in this first issue (an unlikeable character begrudgingly playing hero [granted not a unique concept]) and while not eager to part with $3.99 on a monthly basis quite yet, I will likely be back next month. In the long run, Yost might be too busy working on the Avengers show for Disney XD, but I really want to see Yost’s approach to Marvel characters grow in popularity.

Chris Mautner: I’ve spent most of this week reading Grant Morrison: Combining the Worlds of Contemporary Comics, a new, analytical look at the work of the famed Invisibles author by Marc Singer. Singer might be best known for his blog, I Am Not the Beastmaster, where he regularly writes about comics (when he’s not busy teaching that is). Singer has always been one of the smarter comics bloggers out there, so it should be no surprise that Morrison is a highly insightful, erudite examination of one of the more popular writers in comics today. Singer hurtles himself chronologically through just about the entirety of Morrison’s bibliography, making the larger point that Morrison’s great feat might be in the manner he takes abstract and challenging modes of expression and applies them to mainstream comics. And though Singer throughs out the occasional bit of jargon, his book remains an engaging read. Anyone interested in Morrison’s work should read this book.

Zak Sally: Strangely, i’ve been reading books without pictures; I know for a lot of cartoonists, they say “comics; I don’t read comics in my spare time, I read REAL BOOKS.” Whereas for me, I read comics constantly. So I actually got to the point recently where I thought I’d better back off a little, since I hadn’t read a straight prose/no pictures book in some time.

Clans of the Alphane Moon

So, right now I’m almost finished with this Little, Big book by John Crowley and … the whole way through, I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. and now I’m almost at the end and thinking that maybe it’s the latter.

Also, dipping (well, diving, really) into some heavy Philip K. Dick research. Not so much his novels (although I just cracked Clans of The Alphane Moon, which I’d somehow missed in the past 26 years) but re-reading a lot of biographical material about him — Lawrence Sutin’s excellent Divine Invasions bio, and I Am Alive and You Are Dead by this French guy Emmanuel Carrere (which is pretty good as well). Also the 4 volumes of Selected Letters of Philip K. Dick that Underwood-Miller did in the 80s (anyone out there looking to get rid of their copy of 1938-71?), and a couple other things as well. Why? Because i’m going to make a BOOK WITH PICTURES out of it, of course. It’s a huge undertaking and you got to dive deep, with that stuff.

I also just got a bunch of whacked-out Hollow Earth theory books– you know, where there’s another world inside the earth, accessible via deep tunnels at the earth’s poles. It’s well documented, and apparently quite nice in there, real temperate and lush, and I plan to visit at my earliest convenience.

It strikes me as I write this that the theme is: “crackpots” taking unpopular and/or bizarre notions and creating real, living valid worlds for themselves out of it.

Yup. makes sense.

Building Stories

OK, so after I posted my list of comics I’m looking forward to this year, my buddy David Ball was like, “Dude, what about Building Stories?” And I was all like, “Building the what now?” And he was all like “You know, man, Chris Ware, the thing he’s been serializing forever in stuff like The New York Times and Acme Novelty, etc.” And then I was like, “No way man, for realz?” And he was like “Totes, man.” And then he sent me this link and it’s totally true. New Chris Ware book comin’ atcha this autumn.

Did anyone catch this before? The Pantheon post seems to be at least three months old, but I don’t remember anyone talking about it beforehand.

Are You My Mother?

With 2012 still fresh and new, it seems like as good a time as any to look at various publishing companies’ plans for the year ahead and pick out what looks good, or at least interesting. Because the year looks to be filled with so many delights, I decided to double down and offer not just six but 12 comics I’m really looking forward to reading. Obviously this list is reflective of my own, indie-slanted interests, so feel free in the comments section to tell me what a dope I am for forgetting about Book X by Artist Y.

1. Are You My Mother? by Alison Bechdel (Houghton Mifflin). With a planned initial print run of 100,000 copies, there’s little doubt that Houghton Mifflin is expecting big things from Bechdel’s follow-up to her hugely acclaimed graphic novel Fun Home. Whereas that book dealt mainly with Bechdel’s relationship with her dad, this one focuses on her mom (in case you didn’t grab that from the title). A touchy subject, to be sure, but Bechdel’s proven she can handle such difficult, personal material with considerable aplomb.

Mastering Comics

2. Mastering Comics by Jessica Abel and Matt Madden (First Second). Abel and Madden’s Drawing Words and Writing Pictures was one of the best “how-to” guides comics has ever seen. I’m anxious to see what they’ll do for an encore.

3. Sammy the Mouse Vol. 2 by Zak Sally (La Mano). Volume One of Sally’s surreal, anthropomorphic saga just came out, collecting the first three issues of the Ignatz series. As good news as this is, what I’m excited about is Sally’s plans to have Volume 2, featuring all-new material, out by the end of the year. Sammy was one of the best books in the Ignatz line, and I’m eager to see the story continue.

4. Best of Enemies: A History of the Middle East Relations, Part One by Jean-Pierre Filiu and David B (Abrams). Funny the things you find out when you start strolling through a company’s online catalog. Did you know that Abrams is kickstarting another graphic novel imprint this year? With a heavy focus on Eurocomics? I sure as hell didn’t. One of the more notable releases is an English edition of the award-winning Kiki de Montparnasse. What I’m really curious about, however, is this historical project by the always interesting David B. and friend on the history of the Middle East.

5. Ed the Happy Clown by Chester Brown (Drawn and Quarterly). How long has it been since a collected version of Ed has been available? It’s been a long time. Long enough for me to note that it’s one of the few books by Brown that I haven’t read (other than pieces here and there — it’s shameful, I know). This is definitely going to be one of the big reprint projects of the year.

6. The Strange Tale of Paranorma Island by Suehiro Maruo (Last Gasp). This was initially promised to come out last year but apparently got delayed. Let’s hope we’re able to see a release in 2012. Maruo’s work is rarely for the squeamish or easily offended, but his comics have a haunting, lush quality that makes them worth checking out.

7. Barnaby Vol. 1 by Crockett Johnson (Fantagraphics). Here’s the other big reprint project of the year. Johnson’s wonderful, vastly underrated comic strip about a little boy and his underperforming fairy godfather is finally, finally being collected. Can’t wait.

8. Rohan at the Louvre by Hirohiko Araki (NBM). OK, so NBM has been publishing these graphic novels about the Louvre museum in Paris, and for the most part they’ve all been pretty good. This one, however, looks really interesting as it’s by the creator of the manga series Jo Jo’s Bizarre Adventures and stars one of the characters from that series. Chris Butcher talks a bit about it and offers up a preview over at his site.

9. Skippy Vol. 1 by Percy Crosby (IDW). OK, this is the other other big reprint project of the year. Even more than Barnaby, Skippy has largely been forgotten by a lot of comic readers, even though it heavily influenced works like Peanuts. But it’s a thoroughly charming, thoughtful strip that I expect will find a new appreciation with the release of this book.

The Lovely, Horrible Stuff

10. The Lovely Horrible Stuff by Eddie Campbell (Top Shelf). A new book from Eddie Campbell is always cause for celebration. This one deals with money and mankind’s general relationship toward it, with lots of personal anecdotes provided by the author, no doubt.

11. Lose #4 by Michael DeForge (Koyama Press). Oh, yeah, boy, more DeForge. What’s not to like?

12. Spirit World by Jack Kirby (DC). I didn’t even know this work existed until DC announced the collection earlier this year — that’s how poor a Kirby scholar I am. Still, it’s nice to see DC make a concerted effort to get as much of the King’s work out there as possible and I’m excited to see what this collection — mainly collecting horror/supernatural-style magazine stories if I’m correct — holds.

Salvatore Vol. 2

It’s time once again for our annual look at six books that were, for whatever reason, unjustly ignored by the public and critical cognoscenti at large. With all the titles that are published lately, it’s no real surprise that some books fall through the cracks, though in certain cases it seems grossly unwarranted.

After the jump are six books that, while they may not have made my “best of 2011″ list, I think got nowhere near the amount of attention they deserved. There are lots more that I could include if I had the time. I’m sure there are books you read this year that you don’t think got enough praise either. Be sure to let me know what they are in the comments section.

1. Salvatore by Nicholas De Crecy (NBM). Although highly acclaimed on the other side of the Atlantic, De Crecy is one of those many, many European cartoonists that remains persona non grata here in the U.S. Only three of De Crecy’s books have been translated for American audiences so far: the Louvre-themed Glacial Period and two volumes of Salvatore, the second of which came out this year with barely a peep from critics or readers. That’s a shame as Salvatore is a charmingly absurd anthropomorphic tale involving a philosophizing dog mechanic who, along with his silent, minuscule, bald servent — sets off for South America in a ridiculous contraption of an automobile in search of his true love. As that description suggests, Salvatore is a rather complicated farce, with lots of side stories and supporting characters, including a near-sighted mama pig who searches in vain for a lost child while the rest of her brood becomes ecological entrepreneurs. De Crecy applies an arch, overly formal writing style here that, combined with his rough, detailed art, gives the story an off-kilter, almost grotesque feel that makes it seem both otherworldly and a sly satire of modern foibles, cultures and attitudes. Certainly there’s nothing quite like it being published right now.

King of Flies Vol. 2

2. Pure Pajamas by Marc Bell (D&Q). I have no evidence backing this up, but I suspect Bell is an artist that confounds a number of people. He adopts a big-foot, potato-nose visual style in the best comic strip tradition, and his world is a friendly, anthropomorphic fantasia where everything, from your breakfast food on down is eager to wish you well. On the other hand, his stories lean towards the distressingly surreal, cute characters can easily come to violent ends and things can go bizarrely awry for the most absurd reasons. Myself, I find that tension between the rubbery cute and off-kilter savagery to be one of Bell’s strengths. Pure Pajamas, which collects various strips and stories Bell has done for various media over the years, is about as good an example of those strengths as you’re likely to find.

3. King of the Flies Vol. 2: The Origin of the World by Mezzo and Pirus (Fantagraphics). I suspect a number of potential readers flipped through King of the Flies (either online or in stores) and dismissed it quickly as an obvious Charles Burns rip-off. That’s somewhat understandable. After all, Mezzo and Pirus do wear their influences on their sleeves. Not just Burns, but other artistic lodestones like Quentin Tarintino, David Lynch and Jim Thompson haunt this three-part saga as much as one recently deceased character does. But this dark, disjointed story about an assortment of misfit suburban characters plagued by bad luck and their own poor choices is a compelling, bitterly funny read nevertheless. Despite its obvious influences King never feels like a pale imitation, especially in the second volume, where the ante is upped considerably, both on an aesthetic and narrative level. Don’t let your initial impressions keep you from checking it out.

4. Everything Vol. 1: Blabber, Blabber, Blabber by Lynda Barry (D&Q). It seems odd that a Lynda Barry book should make this list after the deserved acclaim that greeted her last two books, Picture This and What It Is. Yet aside from a review at the AV Club and a New York Times profile (which admittedly is nothing to sneeze at) I’m not sure anyone talked about this new collection of some very early work other than to acknowledge its existence. It certainly seemed to slip off a lot of people’s radar (including my own) when it came time to make a “best of” list. Yet Blabber offers a fascinating look at Barry’s early development as a cartoonist, as she moves from the delicate, oddball Ernie Pook to the rawer, more emotionally savage material of “Boys and Girls.” There’s a lot here for Barry fans, and fans of good comics in general, to chew on.

The Man Who Grew His Beard

5. The Man Who Grew His Beard by Olivier Schrauwen (Fantagraphics). Color Engineering author Yuichi Yokoyama got all the attention this year, but to my eyes Schrauwen is just as innovative and wholly original a cartoonist as Yokoyama. The main difference between the two is that where Yokoyama is focused on expressing motion, machinery and discovery, Schrauwen prefers to explore differences in perception, especially between reality and that of the imagination. Many of the characters in Schrauwen’s collection of short stories (many of which appeared previously in Mome) are mentally disturbed or disabled in some fashion and attempt to reshape what they see in order to compensate for their liabilities. None of this is explicit however; it’s often up to the reader to determine where truth and subjectivity begin and end (though he does frequently drop hints). Incredibly inventive and at times darkly funny, Beard is the work of a master cartoonist worth more attention.

6. Tank Tankuro by Gajo Sakamoto (PressPop). Japanese comics are generally thought to have begun with the end of World War II, but of course that isn’t the case, as this impressive book, lovingly designed by Chris Ware, proves. The Tank in question is an overly exuberant robot warrior/superhero whose metal ball body not only protects him from gunfire but can help produce airplane wings, a drill or even smaller clones of himself — whatever’s needed to get him out of a particular jam. Though decidedly militaristic and nationalistic (Tank is perhaps a bit too eager for war) Sakamoto’s comics from the 1930s are irrepressibly buoyant and loopy enough to delight even the most ardent pacifist. In a golden age of reprints where tons of lesser works are getting dragged back out for a glossy-page omnibus, here’s a little known gem that really deserves a spot in the limelight.

Comics College is a monthly feature where we provide an introductory guide to some of the comics medium’s most important auteurs and offer our best educated suggestions on how to become familiar with their body of work.

This month we finally break Comics College’s glass ceiling (what took us so long anyway?) with an in-depth look at one of the many notable female cartoonists to come out of the alt-comix scene of the 1990s, Jessica Abel.

Why she’s important

Abel was one of the leading lights of the alt-comix scene of the ’90s, a warm, observant artist whose richly detailed stories of anxious young people looking for love and success helped propel comics from towards the — if not financial success — then more mainstream acceptance they endear today. And while she may have entered the scene a bit too late to be called a pioneer, there’s little doubt that her work, along with that of peers like Megan Kelso, helped encourage other women to read and make their own comics.

What’s more, she’s been a tireless advocate of the medium, both as a creator and as an educator and editor, shepherding young cartoonists and getting noteworthy work out in the face of a larger public. She may be one of the best ambassadors comics has at the moment.

Where to start

La Perdida

It might be nostalgia on my part, but I think the best place to be introduced to Abel’s work is Mirror, Window, which collects the second volume of Abel’s seminal series, Artbabe. Befitting the author’s own age at the time, the stories here deal with freshly minted adults who struggle with friendships being tested, young love, making drastic changes in the hopes of improving your lot, trying to decide which direction you want the rest of your life to go and other things that plague modern day 20-somethings. Far from being solipsistic, or indulging in whiny navel gazing, Abel presents her stories with a good deal of grace and even poetry at times; her characters are rich in telling, nuanced details and their behavior suggests an author who has sharply observed the world around her. Really, it’s a killer collection of work.

From there you should read

Abel’s next project, and the one that’s won her the most acclaim so far, is La Perdida, a 250-plus-page story of a young woman who moves to Mexico seeking a different life but ends up involved with some seedy characters. And then things take a turn for the worse. Although it takes some time to get all the ducks lined up in the row — this is a very character-based work – Perdida is more of a straight-up thriller than any of Abel’s previous stories, and also one of her darkest works to date. She also adopts a much looser, rougher art style here, which fits the main character’s seeking, confused tone as well as the violence that occurs afterward. It’s not my favorite comic of hers — I find the main character to ultimately be too willfully naive to root for — but it definitely has its charms and has won enough acclaim to be a good next stop on your tour of Abel-land (definitely opt for the collected version, which is much tighter and better than the serialized issues).

Further reading

Soundtrack

Abel began her rise to prominence with her first, self-published run of Artbabe, which won her a Xeric grant in 1995. Most of the material from those comics are collected in Soundtrack: Short Stories 1990-1996, a swell little compedium that also compiles a number of illustrations as well as some interesting nonfiction, journalistic pieces she did for various alternative newspapers.

As it turns out, Abel is quite good at comics journalism, a notion that Radio: An Illustrated Guide confirms. This is a 32-page comic she did with public radio bon vivant Ira Glass for Glass’ weekly program This American Life. It’s an in-depth look at the acclaimed show and how it comes together. Abel does a fantastic job of breaking down the ins and outs of radio production and what makes a compelling story, and as a result it’s one of her best comics to date.

Ancillary materials

Abel has had a noteworthy second career as an educator and comics advocate, mainly at the School of Visual Arts in New York City. Drawing upon her experience in the classroom she and  her husband and fellow cartoonist Matt Madden created Drawing Words and Writing Pictures, an exemplary textbook on making comics. Just about every aspect of comics, from dialogue to scenery to lettering and making mini-comics is discussed at length here, making it the most essential, thorough book on the subject so far.

Madden and Abel are also the co-series editors of the Best American Comics series that Houghton Mifflin puts out every year. These books tend to be more reflective of the instincts of the special “guest editors” that oversee these yearly volumes, but it’s worth noting if just to remark how varied and busy her current workload seems to be.

Those looking to get hear the artist talk about herself and her work can check out The Comics Journal #270. She also did a recent interview with Mike Dawson as part of his TCJ Talkies series.

Finally, Abel has a number of irons in the fire that should appear soon, including a sequel to Drawing Words and a children’s prose novel that has yet to see the light of day. Her most intriguing upcoming project is Trish Trash, Rollergirl of Mars, which Abel has started a Kickstarter project for to help get it off the ground.

Avoid

Life Sucks has a great hook, combining the world of vampires with that of young adult slackerdom. The notion that vampires have to deal with the same shitty jobs, poverty and unrequited love affairs as normal human beings is a great one. Unfortunately, the book, co-created with writer Gabe Soria and artist Warren Pleece doesn’t go much further than that. It seems mostly content to rest on the laurel of its initial premise and doesn’t really develop the cast well enough to get the reader to care too deeply about what happens to them. Honestly, the book feels like a warmed-over movie pitch, but I give Abel and company credit enough to assume that’s not the case. It’s not a horrible book, but it’s far removed from the type of stuff Abel was doing in Artbabe and La Perdida, and not the first book you should turn to when going through her bibliography.

Next month: Gabrielle Bell

You know what would make a great Christmas present? A publisher announcing they’re going to collect this great, lamentably short-lived series.

In 2003, after Yeah!, his all-ages series with Gilbert Hernandez, was canceled and the one-shot Spider-Man comic for Marvel came and went, Peter Bagge attempted one more volley in the world of mainstream publishing with Sweatshop, a monthly series that covered the trials and travails of a hapless group of worn-down cartoonists who worked as “interns” for Mel Bowling, creator of the sub-par daily newspaper strip Freddy Ferrett.

A lot of familiar Bagge archetypes reside in this comic. Bowling is clearly created in the Brad Bradley/Murray Wilson category of reactionary, loudmouth father figures, someone more eager to share his opinion than listen to someone else’s. The cast is further rounded out by Mel’s long-suffering, pushover sister Millie; the constantly grousing, put-upon Nick; the nerdy Alfred, who dreams of superhero glory; and Carrie the sweet, ever-optimistic indie girl.

Setting his story within the confines of the comics industry may seem like navel gazing at first glance, but Bagge avoids easy jokes about comic conventions and smelly, socially awkward fans to offer a narrower, more sharply observed satire. He gets to mock various styles of comics by running one-page samples of the interns self-published work for example. It also allows him to poke some gentle fun at well-established figures like Neil Gaiman (who gets his pants set on fire) and Patrick McDonnell (who gets an award shoved down his throat).

Bagge’s writing is in fine form here; the charcters are broad enough to allow for a good bit of slapstick and bug-eyed reactions, but sharply drawn enough to seem more like individuals than types. Even better, Bagge brought in a bunch of his friends and compatriots from the alt-comics world to help him work on the comic,  including Johnny Ryan, Stephan DeStefano, Stephanie Gladden and Bill Wray.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it didn’t last very long. Sweatshop failed to pick up much of an audience, DC didn’t market it well and the series was cancelled after the sixth issue. With Fantagraphics releasing the collected edition of Yeah! earlier this year, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to hope that Groth and company — or some other publisher, I’m not picky — will attempt to collect this series into a slim trade paperback. While back issues are easy enough to find, it would be nice to have the entire thing sitting in one volume on the bookshelf.

Batman: Noel

Batman: Noel
by Lee Bermejo
DC Comics, 112 pages, $22.99

Let’s get this out of the way first: The very idea of grafting Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol story template onto the Batman universe is an inherently terrible one. Batman and Scrooge are two completely different archetypes. They have very little in common, and their character arcs go in wildly opposite directions. To do this sort of thing right, you’d have to first turn Batman into a real jackass — which I imagine DC would be reluctant to do — so that his  eventual redemption at the end is all the more striking and heartwarming. That in turn raises the question of whether contemporary readers want a Batman who sees the good in everyone and spends more time helping widows and orphans than fighting crime.

Still, you can’t say this sort of juxtaposition is surprising. A Christmas Carol has been adapted in just about every medium hundreds of times, and just about every popular TV show or multimedia character has attempted a variation on it (I fondly remember the Family Ties rendition, for instance). Honestly, the only shocking thing is that it took DC this long to try something like this (and with that I await the reply of some knowledgeable fellow in the comments section to tell me that, yes indeed, DC’s done this sort of thing several times before).

Anyway, Batman: Noel is Lee Bermejo’s big follow-up to Joker, the successful stand-alone graphic novel he did with Brian Azzarello. Bermejo, all on his lonesome here, adheres to the same lush, photorealistic style he used in that book, again drawing upon The Dark Knight movie, as the lengthy scars on the Joker’s face and armor-styled design of Batman’s uniform attest. It makes perfect sense that Bermejo’s next book would be another Batman story, drawn in the same vein, although I question the wisdom of stealing from a holiday classic .

The plot involves Batman attempting to catch the Joker (who doubles as the Ghost of Christmases Yet to Be) by putting a desperate, low-level crook (the book’s Bob Crachit) and his young son in jeopardy. Along the way, various characters obviously standing in for the characters from Dickens’ story stop by and ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing and why has he become such a sourpuss lately.

Honestly, the whole thing comes off as incredibly awkward and forced. Many of the Dickens allusions seem shoehorned in with little thought as to whether they correlate properly to the original text. So we have people like Catwoman filling in here for the Ghost of Christmas Past and complaining about how Batman used to be a lot more fun and happy-go-lucky, which is a bit different from the androgynous waif that shows Scrooge what a decent guy he used to be.

If my harrumphing hints haven’t already clued you in, Noel is yet another over-the-top commentary on how the modern grim-and-gritty style is completely ruining superhero comics. Honestly, it’s not a position I necessarily disagree with, but the way it’s presented here makes me want to read nothing but Faust for the next month.

As painfully awkward as the story’s basic premise is, Bermejo makes things 10 times worse by inserting an insufferable narration that runs throughout the entire tale, as “Bob” badly summarizes Carol’s basic plot in an odd, street/everyman lingo that corresponds to the visuals in the most obvious 1-to-1 manner possible. This sort of punning between the visual and verbal is barely tolerable when Alan Moore does it anymore, and Bermejo isn’t anywhere near the same league as a writer.

Bemejo is, of course, an artist of considerable talents, and if you’re buying the book just to appreciate the visuals there won’t be as much to complain about I suppose. Throughout the book, he adopts a style where the panel borders are eschewed in favor of having them overlap each other, often using a large, foreground figure to help separate the sequences. As visual styles go, it’s certainly striking, though it can can make for a confusing read at times, especially depending on how familiar you are with this particular storytelling device.

But while Noel offers some nice art, that doesn’t mitigate the numerous problems this book has or make it anything close to an entertaining read. Perhaps Berjemo hoped that drawing on a classic work would give Noel a bit of cultural cache. What he’s created though is a mess that will please neither Batman fans or those looking for a fun holiday-themed comic. Forgive me for making the obvious allusion, but Noel is the comics equivalent of a lump of coal in your stocking.

The main entrance to the Festival

Photo time once again! I had a marvelous time this past Saturday at the Brooklyn Comics and Graphics Festival and thought I’d share some pictures I snapped of the proceedings during my brief time there. Click on the jump link to see the whole shebang.

Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church

For those who don’t know the bulk of the festival — the part that involves selling comics anyway — is held at Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church in the Williamsburg area of Brooklyn, in their gymnasium and basement, which gives the show a very off-the cuff, d.i.y., “let’s put on a show” atmosphere.

Here’s a look at the upstairs floor, where D&Q, Koyama, Small Acres and a number of other publishers were located. Last year a couple of publishers were ensconced on that small stage with the blue curtain. I think they missed a bet by not putting someone up there this year.

Here’s another view of the main floor. The show didn’t seem terribly crowded when I first walked in, but it definitely picked up by as the day progressed and it wasn’t long before I was clumsily bumping into people with my canvas bags of comics, as I am wont to do.

The Mighty Spurgeon

Really, I cannot express how great it was to see Tom Spurgeon at the show, especially since he was so seriously ill earlier this year. He’s lost a lot of weight though, and looked healthier than I think I’ve ever seen him. What’s more, he hasn’t lost a bit of his quick wit  and general good humor. Seriously, he looked fantastic; this photo does not really do him justice.

Zack Soto was selling copies of his new and rather spiffy Studygroup Magazine. I’d tell you more but I put down my copy to take this picture and left it at the table. Conclusion: I am a moron.

And here’s Ryan Sands (left) and Johnny Negron, selling copies of their anthologies, the X-rated Thickness and the slightly less X-rated Chameleon. Copies of these were being snapped up fast and I think the latest issue of Chameleon sold out by mid-afternoon. Is it just me or does Negron totally look like a character from his comics?

Here’s a wider view of the basement area. Last year the basement was where the programming was held, but they moved that to another location to make room for more exhibitors this time around.

From left: Frank Santoro, Picturebox publisher (and Comics Journal co-editor) Dan Nadel and Dash Shaw pose with a copy of Kramer’s Ergot 8, another hot item that I believe sold out rather quickly. That’s Gary Panter with the white hair and black shirt way in the background.

And here we see Benjamin Marra, right, with his ladyfriend, Madeleine Bliss, who had her own comic for sale, Scepter Gem, the first chapter of a rather intriguing-looking fantasy epic. Marra, meanwhile was selling copies of the latest issue of Night Business at a fair clip.

Tucker Stone regaled everyone with his sartorial splendor.

This was about as close as I could get to the NoBrow table which was packed with people the entire time (or at least it seemed that way). I really wanted to pick up a copy of Hilda and the Midnight Giant which looked lovely, but my budget wouldn’t allow it, at least for now.

Sarah Glidden acknowledges my presence while Julia Wertz pretends not to notice me. At least I think she was pretending.

Friends have whispered to me about Koch Comics’ warehouse sales and how they were filled with gems and treasures of all kinds. They had a table at the back of the room which allowed me to get a slight taste of their wonders. I picked up an interesting-looking Kitchen Sink anthology comic featuring R.O. Blechman and J.D. King for $1.

Leslie Stein looks a bit sheepish about the latest copy of her ongoing Eye of Majestic Creature, though she swears it’s her best work yet. Are you reading Ms. Stein’s work? Well, you should be.

Sam Henderson ladies and gentlemen!

And what have we here? Why, it’s fellow Robot 6 contributor Matt Seneca, who flew all the way from Los Angeles just to attend this convention. Crazy, man. Regular R6 blogger Sean T. Collins was also in attendance but the one photo I took of him didn’t come out so well (a common occurrence with me — Weegee I’m not).

Ann Koyama refused – steadfastly refused — to have her picture taken, so I nabbed a photo of these canvas bags Koyama Press was selling at the show instead. They had a lot of great looking books at the show, most notably Matthew Forsythe’s Comic Class and Maurice Vellkoop’s The Adventures of Gloria Badcock.

The programming events moved to Union Pool, a bar/concert/hangout space located a few blocks from the church.

Joe “Jog” McCulloch and I checked out Nicole Rudick’s Q&A with the legendary Phoebe Gloeckner, who talked at length about her ongoing project regarding killings down in Juarez, and her attempts to focus on one particular murder and the family it affected. I was fascinated by her difficulty in finding a way to depict this issue and the manner in which she’s gotten to know the victim’s mother and other family members. All in all, it was a great way to close out my time at the Festival.

From noon to 9 p.m. tomorrow the Brooklyn Comics and Graphics Festival (or BCGF as it’s more commonly known) will take place at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Church, 275 North 8th Street, Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The show, curated by Picturebox, Desert Island and Bill Kartalopolous, has very quickly built up a reputation as being one of the “must-attend” indie shows on the East Coast, and this year promises to be the the most impressive and largest show yet with a murderer’s row of top-flight guests and expanded exhibitors list debuting some killer-looking books. Best of all, the show is free to attend, so

Click on the link below to read a run-down of who will be debuting what, when and where:

Kramer's Ergot 8

• How awesome is this year’s guest list? Awesome enough to not only include the one and only Jack Davis, of Mad and EC fame, but also Chip Kidd, Phoebe Gloeckner, David Mazzucchelli, CF, Brian Ralph, Lisa Hanawalt and John Porcellino.

• Perhaps the most notable debut book this year comes from Picturebox, which will have early copies of Kramer’s Ergot 8. Editor Sammy Harkham will be on hand to sign copies, as will contributors Gary Panter, CF, Frank Santoro, Dash Shaw, Anya Davidson and Gabrielle Bell. They’ll also have a number of prints for sale, including two rare ones by Rory Hayes, of all people.

• Fantagraphics will be attending the festival for the first time, and have brand spanking new copies of Jack Davis: Drawing American Pop Culture, 500 Portraits by Tony Millionaire, Action! Mystery! Thrills! Great Comic Book Covers 1936-1945 edited by Greg Sadowski and Jason Conquers America by Jason. Signing at their table will be Josh Simmons, Kim Deitch, Dash Shaw, Jack Davis, Michael Kupperman and Al Columbia.

• Drawn & Quarterly won’t be debuting any books, but they will have Brian Ralph, Adrian Tomine, R. Sikoryak, Jillian Tamaki, John Porcellino, Matt Forsythe and Gabrielle Bell (who apparently will be doing a lot of table-hopping).

• Bell will also have a new $1 mini-comic debuting over at the Uncivilized Books table, which you can get for free if you sign up for their mailing list. UB will also have a new issue of True Swamp by Jon Lewis and Bell will be selling portraits for $5 a pop.

• Koyama Press will debut a number of comics at the show, including Comics Class, Rivers Forgotten and The World of Gloria Badcock. Artists on hand include Michael DeForge, Julia Wertz, Maurice Vellekoop, Matt Forsythe, Jeremy Kai and Jordan Crane.

• DeForge also wants you to know that he’ll have two mini-comics at the show, King Trash and Open Country, and that the new issue of the Smoke Signal anthology will feature a collaboration with him and Benjamin Marra. I’d strongly recommend buying anything DeForge has for sale. Marra’s no slouch either, and he’ll have the new, fourth issue of Night Business for sale at his Traditional Comics table.

• DeForge is also one of the contributors to Zack Soto’s Studygroup Magazine anthology, which Soto will be debuting at the show. It looks pretty swell.

• New books at the Domino Books table include Face Man, Spider Monkey, Violence Valley, Here I Am and The Archer. Secret Acres will have a new issue of John Brodowski’s Curio Cabinet. AdHouse will have new Ferzan mini by Lamar Abrams. Ryan Cecil Smith will be debuting something called SF Supplementary File, which looks intriguing. Conundrum Press will have a brand-new book from David Collier, Colliers Popular Press. La Mano Press will apparently have early copies of Zak Sally’s Sammy the Mouse book. Sam Henderson will have a spiffy looking new book of gag cartoons. Oh and so much more. See a full list of exhibitors here.

• Programming will be held nearby at Union Pool, 484 Union Avenue #A. If you can only attend one panel I’d probably shoot for either the Q&A with Jack Davis or the talk with Phoebe Gloeckner. There will also be a number of satellite events held in various locations in the surrounding area, which is nice if you can afford to stay longer than a day.

• A number of comics bloggers will also be in attendance, including yours truly. I’ll actually have a mini-comic of my own — the prologue to a lengthy fantasy epic my 10-year-old daughter is working on — that I’ll be handing out for free to a few friends and curious parties. Supplies will be limited, but if you see me at the show feel free to ask for a copy.

Studygroup Magazine

Absolute All-Star Superman

Comics College is a monthly feature where we provide an introductory guide to some of the comics medium’s most important auteurs and offer our best educated suggestions on how to become familiar with their body of work.

Strap yourself in, kids, because this is going to be a big one, as we run through the lengthy and considerable career of one of mainstream comics’ biggest stars, Grant Morrison.

Why he’s important

If nothing else, Grant Morrison is a writer with a definitive vision. A big believer in the power of the superhero genre to inspire hope and change, his stories often — despite his considerable ability to frighten and disturb – are optimistic affairs, suggesting that even in one’s darkest moments, things are never as bad as they seem. That he can frequently pull this type of sincere optimism without seeming saccharine or winsome is a testament to his skill as a writer.

Morrison is not always an easy writer to read. He’ll frequently break the fourth wall, indulge in non-linear storytelling or throw out obscure references. He expects his readers to meet him halfway and often a bit of work is required to suss out exactly how everyone moved from plot point A to B. Usually this type of effort is rewarded, however, as at his best his writing blends surreal, dense and sometimes elliptical storytelling with a fondness for humanity and a yen for crafting likable, fully rounded characters.

Note: In culling this list together I decided to skip over some of Morrison’s single-issue stories, anthology contributions and unfinished projects (like those two issues of The Authority). Otherwise we’d be here all day. Feel free to yell at me about it in the comments section.

Where to start

Doom Patrol Vol. 1: Crawling From the Wreckage

Morrison’s most well-known and beloved work is easily All-Star Superman, and thus makes as likely and new-reader-friendly a place to begin as any. Working with his best and frequent collaborator Frank Quitely, Morrison penned a loving mash note to the Silver Age, Weisenger-era Superman that didn’t ever once come off as nostalgic sentimentality. In many ways, All-Star Superman is a thoughtful treatise on the fragility and splendor of life, with Morrison asking readers what sort of legacy they’d like to leave behind for friends and family after they’ve gone. The series is available in two softcover volumes, or you can buy the whole shebang in one expensive Absolute edition.

Personally though, I feel that Morrison’s run on Doom Patrol features not only some of his best writing ever, but it’s also one of the best, if not the best, superhero comic of all time. Teaming up with artist Richard Case, Morrison created a comic that reveled in playful sense of surrealism and absurdity. New, bizarre ideas and characters seemed to spring off every page — Paintings that eat cities! A villain that has every super power you can’t think of! — only to be tossed aside to make room for the next big notion. But it’s all grounded by the main cast of characters who, despite their odd appearances and complex problems, remain very sympathetic figures. The series has been collected in five six easy-to-find trade paperbacks: Crawling From the Wreckage, The Painting that Ate Paris, Down Paradise Way, Musclebound, Magic Bus and Planet Love.

From there you should read

Flex Mentallo Man of Muscle Mystery Deluxe Edition

After his run on Doom Patrol concluded, Morrison spun-off one of his creations from the series, Flex Mentallo, into a self-titled four-issue mini-series. The comic followed the “Muscle Man of Mystery” as he tried to find his former friend and fellow crimefighter, The Fact, while also focusing on a burned out rock star calling a suicide prevention line who may or may not be imagining the whole Mentallo storyline. Working again with Quitely (who does some of his best work to date here) Morrison lays out his entire feelings about the superhero genre and why he’s so sweet on it. As manifestos go, it’s a pretty sterling one. Though it’s long been out of print, it’s scheduled to come out in a deluxe hardcover collection early next year.

Morrison’s other great superhero project is the wildly ambitious Seven Soldiers of Victory. The idea was to create a loosely interconnected series of comics, each starring a semi-obscure character from the DC Universe: Klarion, the Guardian, Mister Miracle, the Shining Knight, etc. It all builds up towards an epic battle against a nefarious enemy from the future, the catch being none of the characters ever meet (at least not for more than a few seconds). Really, it all comes together a lot better my meager description would suggest and features some great art from folks like Doug Mahnke, J.H. Williams III, Frazier Irving and Ryan Sook. The whole blessed extravaganza has been collected in two hardcover volumes.

At the same time Morrison was pushing the dada envelope in Doom Patrol, he was cheerfully breaking the fourth wall in Animal Man.The series started off as a familiar second banana character revamp, with art by Chas Truog, but quickly became something deeper and stranger as main character Buddy Baker started fighting for animal rights and inadvertently found his world literally coming apart at the seams, with the end result being a meeting between the character and his creator. The entire storyline is collected in three volumes: Animal Man, Origin of the Species and Deus Ex Machina.

While I disagree somewhat, many consider The Invisibles to be Morrison’s definitive work. Certainly it’s one of his most fondly remembered works and the one that won him a decidedly devoted audience. A superhero/spy story that draws on countless conspiracy theories, the Invisibles follows a clandestine group of operatives who work at overthrowing a shadowy Illuminati-type group that manipulates humanity and history behind the scenes. The first half is excellent, but it begins to falter somewhat in the second half before gaining steam again, perhaps in part due to the fact that Morrison fell gravely ill while writing the series. You can read the whole thing via seven volumes: Say You Want A Revolution, Apocalipstick, Entropy in the U.K., Bloody Hell in America, Counting to None, Kissing Mister Quimper and The Invisible Kingdom.

Rounding out Morrison’s collaborations with Frank Quitely is We3, a surprisingly effective sci-fi revamp of The Incredible Journey with a cybernetically outfitted (and incredibly dangerous) rabbit, cat and dog on the run from the military that wants to “decommission” them and trying to find their original owners. In a rather neat feat, Morrison manages to give all the animals speaking parts without ever having them lose their animal nature or resorting to easy sentimentalism. As violent as this book can be, it’s hard to reach the end with a dry eye.

And then you should read

Seaguy

The Filth was Morrison’s follow-up to The Invisibles and something of a flip side to the latter’s more positive, rebelling against the status quo attitude. I think it’s a more successful book though it certainly has its detractors. It’s about an average schlub of a man who (re)discovers he’s actually the member of a super-secret organization devoted to maintaining the “status q” known as The Hand. Or maybe he’s a pedophile who’s starting to hallucinate because he can’t handle the fact that his beloved cat is dying. Morrison keeps readers guessing the true nature of the story’s “true” reality all the way up to the end and beyond. It’s one of the writer’s densest, most challenging books to date largely, but a hell of a ride, largely due to the considerable artistic abilities of Chris Weston.

Seaguy and its sequel, the yet-to-be-collected Seaguy: The Slaves of Mickey Eye, is an energetic, dystopian superhero fable dealing with a scuba-outfitted hero who slowly comes to realize the seemingly perfect, amusement-park world he’s living in is a facade hiding lots of nefarious goings-on. It’s a fun, affecting ride, largely abetted by the cheerfully clean styling of Cameron Stewart. Morrison has promised a third and final Seaguy series but as of yet nothing has been announced.

Morrison must have a deep fondness for Oscar Wilde. How else to explain Sebastian O, which re-imagines the author of The Importance of Being Earnest as a witty assassin, wrecking havoc on the establishment that sent him to prison decades ago? It all wraps up a little too quickly, but longtime collaborator Steve Yeowell and Morrison manage to spin a clever and occasionally disquieting steampunk ode to Wilde and his contemporaries as well as giving a fat raspberry to the voices of censorship and repression.

One of Morrison’s most recent Vertigo books is the just-collected Joe the Barbarian, a charming fantasy story about a boy who, in the midst of a diabetic seizure, imagines himself transported to a fantasy kingdom where he is “the chosen one” who can save their world (Notice a pattern here? Morrison’s big on the ability of imagination and fantasy to transform everyday life.) Despite the Vertigo label and seemingly convoluted storyline, this is one of Morrison’s most direct, straightforward works ever and his first and only all-ages styled book to date. He and artist Sean Murphy do such a fine job here that you wonder why he doesn’t try his hand at this type of thing more often.

Though the bulk of his work has been done for DC/Vertigo, Morrison spent some time a decade or so ago at Marvel. The most notable fruit of his labors there was his run on the New X-Men, where he shook up and in some cases completely altered the status quo on the long-standing, convoluted superhero soap opera series, laying lots of established back story to literal waste and giving a hipper sci-fi edge to the proceedings, all while re-emphasizing the adolescent angst that gave the series’ its heart. It all suffers quite a bit from the revolving door of artists that came in to handle various arcs or fill-in issues (Igor Kordey’s best work is certainly not represented here). But still, there are some great ideas at work here and some really stunning sequences, usually involving Frank Quitely (there he is again). The best way to experience the series is probably through the latest three-volume set of omnibuses (omnibi?).

Further reading

Final Crisis

Morrison teamed up with Duncan Fegredo for Kid Eternity, a three-issue prestige-styled mini series that was yet another dark revamping of a long-forgotten superhero character, in this case a boy who could summon classic (and dead) characters from history just by saying the word “Eternity.” Teamed up here with a hapless stand-up comedian, the series is basically Morrison’s take on Dante’s Inferno, as the pair wend their way to hell and back in order to save the Kid’s mentor and possibly the human race. It’s a bit muddled at times, but still entertaining.

Having attempted a convoluted mega-crossover series with Seven Soldiers, Morrison got the chance to try something similar with DC’s A-listers in Final Crisis, one of those super-duper “event” stories that plague superhero comics these days. Morrison basically dares to ask the question “What if Darkseid really won?” and then goes on to explore how the Superman and friends manage to pick up the pieces and restore order and justice to the universe. It’s kind of a mess — the divergent elements don’t cohere very well, part of which may be due to the fact that artist J.G. Jones was replaced early on in the series by a variety of artists, including Doug Mahnke. And I recall being very irritated at figuring out at the end that I needed to read some of the tie-in series in order to figure out what was going on. Still, all that tie-in stuff has been included in the collected edition, so maybe it all reads better in book form.

Morrison first made his name in 1989 with Arkham Asylum, a heavily-hyped standalone graphic novel that teamed him up with a pre-Cages Dave McKean. The book had Batman wending his way through the titular mental institution, combating various villains and Jungian archetypes along the way. At the time (and despite the strong sales) it was derided by some fans as being needlessly convoluted and self-important, but I think it’s held up rather well over time, though it does perhaps take itself a bit too seriously.

Those looking for a more straightforward Batman story should check out Gothic, which was originally serialized in Legends of the Dark Knight. The story, featuring some nice art by Klaus Janson, pits the caped crusader against a seemingly immortal killer named Mr. Whisper who’s secret origins may tie into Wayne’s own personal history. It’s one of Morrison’s most simplest and straightforward stories ever and perfect for those who are just looking for a nice Batman story without all the surreal frou-frou.

If you haven’t guessed yet, Batman is clearly Morrison’s favorite superhero. Or, at any rate, he’s the superhero he’s spent the most time with, having not only done the previous two books but also having written the eponymous Batman series from 2007 to 2010. Here he attempted to incorporate every single aspect of the character’s mythos from the past 70-odd years, from the silly to the profound. Again, it’s hard to fault his ambition, but it’s clear certain artists weren’t on the same page as Morrison or weren’t capable of matching his vision and thus the quality and tone vary wildly. Morrison’s run is collected in Batman and Son, The Black Glove (the best of the bunch, with some great art by J.H. Williams III), The Resurrection of Ra’s Al Ghul (another multi-series crossover Morrison took part in), Batman R.I.P. (where everything comes to a head), and the coda, Time and the Batman, which also re-explains some events from Final Crisis.

Morrison hit the ground running from his Batman run with Batman and Robin, which imagines first Robin Dick Grayson taking over the Batman role in Bruce Wayne’s absence, joined by Wayne’s cocky illegitimate son Damian. This was a deliberate attempt to harken back to the goofy TV show and carefree era of the 60s, while maintaining a bit of menace and gravitas. Overall it’s a more successful run than Batman, though, once again, there are some really awful stumbles depending on who’s handling the artistic chores. You can read the whole thing in  Batman Reborn, Batman vs. Robin and Batman and Robin Must Die!

The whole saga came to a head in Batman: The Return of Bruce Wayne, which found Bruce Wayne traveling through time — here a caveman, there a puritan — but still solving crimes and righting wrongs. Honestly, the whole thing feels a bit perfunctory and is not one of Morrison’s better works.  Much better is the series it led into, Batman Inc., which finds Wayne expanding his superhero empire around the globe. So far that series has been pretty solid and though it’s currently on hiatus, there’s no reason to suspect the quality will dip down once it returns.

Even further reading

Vinanarama

Morrison went Bollywood with Vimanarama, a three-issue mini-series he did with Philip Bond about a nebbishy British Asian man who finds himself battling ancient giant monsters bent on destroying the world as well as juggling various personal crises, most notably his impending arranged marriage. On the whole this is slight and more than a bit silly (deliberately so), but it has a devoted fan base among Morrison devotees.

Along with New X-Men, Morrison worked on the series Marvel Boy with artist J.G. Jones. The short-lived comic featured a surly Kree warrior as its anti-hero, who, after having his ship destroyed and friends killed, felt little love for humanity and was more than happy to carve a giant “F.U.” into the New York landscape, in between battles with a villainous armored millionaire who craves his technology. After X-Men, it’s probably Morrison’s best work at the House of Ideas.

Apart from the X-Men, Morrison didn’t get to handle to many of Marvel’s iconic characters, though he did get to offer his take on the FF with Fantastic Four: 1234. This short, slight story features some nice, moody art by Jae Lee as the Richards family find themselves beset with doubt, with Doctor Doom moves in for the kill. The best part in the whole thing is Sue Storm’s verbal takedown of Doom.

Finally, there’s Skull Kill Krew, which Morrison worked on with Mark Millar and Steve Yeowell. The comic, about a group of misfit anti-heroes hell-bent on destroying the Skrulls hiding in society (and presumably plotting world domination) adopts a cheerfully amoral and anarchistic tone as the group merrily goes about slaughtering aliens left and right (and in the end decimates an entire town). The defiant, tongue-in-cheek attitude isn’t for everyone certainly, but there’s something to be said for a superhero comic that comes off as having an attitude without seeming like a cynical marketing ploy.

Millar and Morrison also collaborated on Aztek the Ultimate Man, an original superhero character blessed with a magic suit of armor and given a quest to save the world from … well, you know the drill. N. Steven Harris’ angular art gives the whole thing an off-kilter, claustrophobic edge, which works to the story’s advantage, considering it takes place in an allegedly “sick city.” Beyond the simple “hero saves world” plot is a nice running commentary on the uber-violent, “dark” superheroes that were all the rage in the 1990s that gives the series a little kick.

Aztec’s final fate is revealed toward the end of Morrison’s run on JLA, better known as Justice League of America to simple souls like myself. Morrison took over the then moribund-title in 1997, attempting both a back to basics approach by bringing in heavy hitters like Superman and Batman and giving the series an epic scale by having them face off against some seemingly staggeringly tough opponents. It was an enormous success and garnered a new group of fans for Morrison that had previously found his work alienating or confusing. In retrospect, however, the series suffers a bit from repetition: each plot involves the JLA facing being painted in a corner, either by a super villain or a universe-shattering event, only to come through at the last possible second. The series was also a slave to the vagaries of various plot threads going on in other books, which can be irritating (Superman’s blue and electric! Now he’s normal again! Wonder Woman’s dead! Now she’s not!). And then there’s Howard Porter’s art, which is serviceable at best. The entire run is collected in four oversize volumes, the fourth of which collects also collects JLA: Earth-2, a stand-alone story where the heroes face evil versions of themselves. It’s far, far better than the bulk of the rest of the JLA material, perhaps due in large part to the fact that — you guessed it — it was drawn by Frank Quitely.

Ancillary materials

Morrison teamed up with Mark Waid, Geoff Johns and Greg Rucka for 52, a year-long, weekly series that juggled various plot threads to reveal what was going on in the DC universe after the events of Infinite Crisis. It’s a bit all over the place, but still entertaining. One of the most fun parts is trying to figure out what sections were written by Morrison.

Remember Virgin Comics? At one point they planned a multi-part animated Internet-0nly series based on the classic Indian text the Mahabharata, to be written by Morrison. It all fell apart when Virgin collapsed, but you can read Morrison’s lengthy story pitch and some of his initial scripts in 18 Days, published by Dynamite. The book also features some lavish illustrations by Mukesh Singh that, combined with Morrison’s conceptual ideas, make you wish the project had come to fruition.

An enormous amount of Morrison’s early work, especially his work for 2000AD and other British comic magazines, has yet to be collected in the states, including Big Dave, Bible John and the New Adventures of Hitler. Some of these are available online in various illegal fashions. Probably his most notable early work is Zenith, another epic superhero saga starring a snotty youth who would rather be a pop star than fight crime. It’s a bit too jam-packed, though it settles itself out a bit as it goes on, and you can see a lot of his initial ideas on the superhero genre being laid out here. Eclipse published two volumes of Zenith but those have sadly long since fallen out of print. Supposedly a collected edition will be coming out from 2000AD sometime in the near future but I wouldn’t hold your breath waiting, as Morrison and the publisher have supposedly been at loggerheads about who truly owns the rights to the character.

One early Morrison comic that did get reprinted here in the states was St. Swithin’s Day, which Oni released only to let fall back out of print again. The comic, featuring some lovely art by Paul Grist, follows a sullen teenager who may or may not be plotting to kill Margaret Thatcher (Morrison has gone on record as saying the comic is at least partly autobiographical). The whole thing’s terribly earnest, but sweet in its own way and worth tracking down.

Fans of the classic British TV show The Avengers will want to check out Steed and Mrs. Peel, in which Morrison and Ian Gibson dream up new adventures for the classic spy duo. It’s pretty amusing, but really only if you’re a fan of the source material. BOOM! plans to re-release these comics in January.

Finally there’s Dare, a modern politicalized rethinking of the classic British Dan Dare sci-fi comic done with artist Rian Hughes. As with The Avengers, it helps to be familiar with the source material. Dark but still entertaining, the comic is more of a showcase for Hughes’ considerable talents work than for Morrison’s writing. The story can be found in the Hughes collection Yesterday’s Tomorrows, which is well worth tracking done because Hughes is such a masterful artist.

Avoid

The Mystery Play

Don’t let the subtitle to Supergods fool you. The book is not really about “What Masked Vigilantes, Miraculous Mutants and a Sun God from Smallville Can Teach Us About Being Human.” Instead what you get is a rambling, warmed-over, rather problematic (to put it mildly) look at comics history, along with some rather self-aggrandizing reminiscences by Morrison. On the other hand, it is a good place to find out more about a number of events the author has hinted at in various interviews, particularly a transcendental experience he had in Katmandu. More than anything, though, this book was in really bad need of a good editor.

The news that Morrison was going to return to Superman in Action Comics as part of the new DC revamp was heralded by many, but so far the series has proven to be something of a disappointment, feeling tired and rote where it should be vibrant and fun. Perhaps it will improve as it progresses …

Morrison can be a little too “on the nose” sometimes, and that’s absolutely the case with The Mystery Play, a graphic novel team-up with Jon J. Muth that reeks of symbolism and allegory to the point where you want to scream “Enough already.” The story takes place during the modern re-enactment of a medieval mystery play, see, only God gets murdered in the first act. The rest of the book is more of the same painfully obvious allusions that cause the reader (or me at any rate) to wince inwardly when reading them.

That “on the nose” thing also plagues  Kill Your Boyfriend a “youth on the run” comic with Philip Bond that despite its apparent desire to shock and awe seems a bit too overly familiar and annoyingly cute. You don’t necessarily have to “avoid” it but I’d recommend saving it for last.

Next month: Jessica Abel

I’m sure I speak for everyone here at Robot 6 when I say we wish Tom and Leela our deepest condolences and hope they find the strength to carry on in the face of such a heart-rending, inexplicable tragedy.

Mystery Incorporated

You knew we were going to get to this series sooner or later, right?

Horus

After Big Numbers, Alan Moore’s other big uncompleted work (yes, there’s more than one) is arguably 1963, a six-issue homage/parody/pastiche of classic Silver Age Marvel Comics he did under the Image Comics umbrella back in 1993 with Rick Veitch and Steve Bissette.

As you’d expect, the superheroes that graced these covers and stories bore arch similarities to those created by Jack Kirby, Steve Ditko and Stan Lee. Mystery Incorporated, for example, is the Fantastic Four with slightly different powers. The Fury serves as an analogue for Spider-Man, right down to ever-present angst. U.S.A. is Captain America, Horus is Thor, and so forth and so on.

But Moore and company were not content to merely ape the characters; 1963 mimics the tone and style of early Marvel comics with an almost unerring accuracy at times, from the soap opera romantic subplots, to the fretting over the red menace of communism to the Irish cop stereotypes. The creators even produced phony letters page and ads. Moore even mimicked Lee’s hucksterism, urging readers at one point to go out and buy his book, How I Created Everything All By Myself and Why I Am Great.

As the title of that book might suggest, 1963 was full of sly humor and winking nods to not only Marvel but the comics industry and American culture in general. The Doctor Strange character, for example, is flummoxed by a woman from the future’s PC doublespeak. The Tomorrow Syndicate’s voyage into hyperspace has loads of references to indie comics characters. Moore even breaks the fourth wall as the mysterious villain in the Hypernaut’s adventure is able to literally turning the panel in order to gain the upper hand.

From Tales of the Uncanny

The series is also notable for the number of talented folks that helped produce it. In addition to Moore, Bissette and Veitch, it featured the work of Don Simpson, John Totleben, Dave Gibbons, Jim Valentino and, yes, even Chester Brown himself (on the Hypernaut tale).

1963 was supposed to culminate in an “Annual” issue that would feature a showdown between the Image characters and the 1963 group, providing a sort of compare/contrast commentary on the superhero comics of yesteryear and those of the then “modern” 1990s. Jim Lee was supposed to draw the issue, but decided to take a sabbatical instead. By the time he came back, Rob Liefield was out, and things were starting to fall apart. Moore found himself drawn to working on other Image comics like WildCats and what would eventually become his ABC line.

The final panel from Tomorrow Syndicate

Things got more acrimonious in 1996 when Moore cut off all contact with Bissette, apparently regarding something the Swamp Thing artist said or revealed during a lengthy interview in the Comics Journal. In 1998 Moore, Veitch and Bissette split up the rights to the various cast members, with Bissette walking away with the Hypernaut and a few other characters.

Even then, attempts were made to collect and finish 1963. In a big two-part interview for CBR, Bissette discussed a number of attempts by the three parties, even with Bissette and Moore avoiding any direct contact ,only for things to fall apart time and again. At this point it seems like there’s little to no chance the original series will ever be collected, although Bisette has announced plans to spin off his characters into their own adventures, to be published by About Comics. It seems a shame. Although certainly one of the minor works for all three creators, 1963 remains a bonafide hoot and could easily be appreciated by a new batch of readers.

Donald Duck: Lost in the Andes

Walt Disney’s Donald Duck: Lost in the Andes
by Carl Barks
Fantagraphics Books, 240 pages, $24.99.

Is Barks overrated? Is he really the comics master that people claim he is or was it simply that most of his contemporaries — especially where Disney comics were concerned — were so dull in comparison? Did the mystique surrounding Barks — the fact that he worked anonymously for so long — stoke his legend? In praising Barks, are we merely praising the surface elements of his work and ignoring whether his stories are stand up to the sort of strong critical scrutiny? Does mere nostalgia drive the bulk of our interest in his work? As one person put it on Twitter: “Is the worship of Barks just another case of comics culture’s elevation of craft over everything?”

I really don’t think so. Certainly it’s easy to get lost in the surface elements of Barks’ comics — the simple, clean lines, the skilled detail in depicting other cultures and lost civilizations, the slapstick humor. I suppose to some extent there might be a few people who come to Barks expecting to have their molecules re-arranged and will walk away sorely disappointed and wondering what all the fuss was about.

But like Herge, another exemplary creator who made comics primarily for kids and later found an audience of devoted adults, Barks’ duck stories are richer, more compelling and smarter than a cursory glance might suggest. The key I think, is that the craft is in service to the stories. Unlike, say, Neal Adams or Jim Aparo — artists whose enjoyment was largely if not solely dependent upon their facility in rendering and layout pyrotechnics, and rarely upon merits of the story being told — Barks’ real skill was as a storyteller. Everything was in service to the greater good of the story, which in turn helped ensure the stories themselves were praiseworthy.

At any rate, now we can all judge for ourselves. After decades of Barks’ work being given to us in either sloppy, piecemeal fashion or hard-to-find, incredibly pricy oversize volumes, Fantagraphics has taken it upon themselves to release Barks’ complete duck stories in easy-to-peruse, relatively inexpensive hardcover books, the first of which, Lost in the Andes, is now available.

Rather than start at the beginning, editor Gary Groth opted to begin in the middle with what’s largely considered Barks’ best work and backtrack at some later date. Which means that Andes is technically the seventh volume in the eventual series, but never mind. It’s a smart idea to begin with some greatest hits and Andes has its fair share, most notably the title story, which finds Donald and his nephews traveling to South America to find the source of some peculiar square eggs and stumbling upon a literally square lost city. One where everyone talks like Col. Sanders.

The ducks also battle a witch bent on destroying Christmas, race the insufferable Gladstone Gander to the South Seas, face off against zombies (the old witch-doctor kind) in Africa and test out toys for Santa Claus. In between all those adventures there’s some really funny strips that are marvelous in their frantic construction build up of gag upon, like one where Donald suffers from constant nightmares and finds an unlikely cure when his machismo is in danger.

Most reprint projects worth their salt these days require some thoughtful essays and supplemental materials and Lost in the Andes is no different. Barks scholar Donald Ault provides a well-written biography of Barks and his significance for the introduction, and a number of critics including Rich Kreiner, R. Fiore and Craig Fischer provide some essays and commentaries on the various stories at the back of the book. I am a little wary when pundits discuss the overarching themes and deeper meanings in Barks’ work. While I’m sure that such themes are present, however marginally, I worry that expounding upon them tends risks overstating or inflating their significance, thereby running the risk of robbing these tales of some of their charm and leading to some of the skeptical questions posed in my introduction. Few worries here though, as most of the essays are sharp and insightful without feeling the need to place the work in question on an academic pedestal.

In short, this is exactly the book that Barks fans and the curious have been waiting for. No doubt there will continue to be those who find the claims for Barks’ greatness dubious and question the desire to hold aloft work that had little aim beyond wanting to amuse and entertain young readers and perhaps the occasional adult. But even held to that simple standard, Barks remains an exemplary cartoonist. His work is thrilling, funny and rather knowing about human nature without ever seeming trite or obvious, and despite the occasional pop culture reference it hasn’t aged much over the decades either.

How good was Carl Barks? Pretty goddamned good.

Hark! A Vagrant
by Kate Beaton
Drawn and Quarterly, 168 pages, $19.95.

The thing that amazes/impresses me the most about Kate Beaton’ comics is how much everyone loves them. OK, not everyone — I do know one or two stragglers that refuse to find anything amusing in her sly little comics — but a lot of people from disparate fan bases really like her stuff. Indie readers like Kate Beaton, Superhero fans like Kate Beaton,, and (perhaps most notably) people who hardly ever (if at all) read comics like Kate Beaton (like my wife). She crosses boundaries in a way I don’t think I’ve seen any modern cartoonist do, let alone a webcartoonist. I think that’s even more impressive when you consider how often she relies upon (relatively) obscure historical figures and literature as the basis for her strips.

Other than that I really don’t have much to say, except that those who own her first book, Never Learn Anything From History, and haven’t bought this one yet because they’re worried it reprints the same material can relax; it doesn’t. Basically if you appreciate intelligence, wit (or smartassery) and the chance to learn something on the side, then this is the book for you.

More reviews after the jump …

Pope Hats #2

Pope Hats #2
by Ethan Rilly
AdHouse, 40 pages, $6.95.

Man did I love the hell out of this comic. Just about every aspect of it appealed to me — the pacing, the dialogue, the plot, but especially Rilly’s assured, graceful line which manages to combine cartoonishness with a eye for realism that gives off a strong ligne claire feel but not feel like a slavish, Americanized version. It’s its own thing, if that makes any sense.

The bulk of the comic follows the adventures of a harried legal clerk as she moves up the corporate ladder, questions her general direction in life and eyes her much more free-spirited roommate with a good deal of envy. It’s one of those sharp character portraits that makes you long for a sequel — you want to see where this person ends up in six months or two years down the road. Plus, the inclusion of a few back-up strips When people talk about how they miss the days of alt-comic pamphlets and the rewards, they’re talking about comics like this one.

Mickey Mouse Vol. 2
by Floyd Gottfredson
Fantagraphics Books, $29.99

Gottfredson is in much stronger form here than in the first volume, drawing upon the early Mickey cartoons for ideas — mad scientists, treasure hunts, mail pilots — but then expanding and developing them in a way those early Disney shorts were incapable of doing. Over time, Mickey’s personality becomes more refined as well; scrappier, tougher and more determined to seek justice (or an adventure) regardless of the odds.

Again, part of the enjoyment for me with this series is the rich amount of historical material editors Gary Groth and David Gerstein are able to provide. From foreign material to biographies of various ancillary contributors, supplemental art, character histories and more, this series is rich with detail, both in the strip itself and in the editorial handling of the material, that puts other reprint projects to shame.

Dark Tomato

Austin English has been one of the more unique cartoonists on the indie comic scene over the past decade, someone with a definitive ideas of what comics should be and how best to achieve those goals. You can see it in the childlike grace and artfulness that’s captured in his graphic novel Christina and Charles, as well as in the three issues of Windy Corner Magazine, which he edited. After being a mainstay in the Sparkplug line-up for many years, English is now trying his hand at being a publisher with his new company, Domino Books. The line’s debut comic, Dark Tomato by Sakura Maku, is a surreal tale about an MTA subway driver who has a supernatural encounter of sorts down in the bowels of New York City. It’s available now via the Internet and finer retail outlets.

I talked to Austin over email about his new business venture, the challenges of being a small press publisher and the wisdom he gained from the late Sparkplug owner, Dylan Williams.

So let me start by asking what made you decide to become a publisher. Was this something you were always interested in doing?

I wrote about it when I started Domino and it bears repeating down, given the circumstances: Dylan Williams is the main inspiration for Domino, and not just because he was a publisher too. Dylan advocated for art that he believed in and he thought advocating for art that you liked was important — I think, for him, it was essential to do what you could for artists that moved you.

I share this feeling with Dylan. Art is very important to me — I believe in the work an artist like Sakura Maku does very strongly. I feel this intense obligation to do something with her work so that its shown with the proper dignity and intensity that it deserves.

Sequence from 'Dark Tomato'

Dylan said something once that really stuck with me. ‘Art isn’t bullshit and love isn’t bullshit.’ Well…sometimes you’re sitting, working on your own art, or looking at art by someone like Sakura and you feel so thrilled by all of it. But then there’s always that voice, right? The voice that wants you to believe its bullshit and that starting something like DOMINO is ridiculous. Well—the voice that says ‘trust that you love it’ is more true, I think.

A lot of these ideas were percolating with me, and over a longtime friednship/years of collaboration with Dylan, he really strengthed those drives in me so that I was ready to do Domino. Blaise Larmee sort of solidfied things for me when he started Gaze. Dylan may have influenced me that it was the right thing to do, but seeing Blaise start Gaze and publish Aidan Koch’s work so well showed me that it was possible for a younger person like myself to actually do this and do it well.

Another strong reason that I started Domino is that I finally had the money to do it — I was lucky enough to sell 15 pages of The Disgusting Room to a collector. I combined that with the savings I had amassed from my dishwashing job in Stockholm and immediately poured it all into starting Domino and publishing Dark Tomato. I felt like if I didn’t use that money for Domino right away, I might never have another chance!

Did you come across any unexpected challenges or obstacles in setting up Domino?

Sequence from 'Dark Tomato'

The obstacles are still ahead for Domino, I’m sure. Once we start publishing more books, I think that’s inevitable. But, for any aspiring publishers out there, I can’t emphasize enough how achievable it is to publish work. I think programs like Photoshop and InDesign make the process fairly democratic. I don’t have exhaustive knowledge of either of those programs, but the little I did know was enough. As long as you have a clear aesthetic vision of what you want, I think patience and a desire to listen to what the artist wants is really all you need. Getting the money together was an obstacle, but again, if it’s important to you, it’s more of a patience thing than an obstacle — I worked a bunch of overtime shifts dishwashing. And when I was lucky enough to sell a bunch of original art all at once, instead of buying a plane ticket to visit family or something like that, I put it all into Domino.

I worked with fellow artist Jason Overby on Dark Tomato’s design. Just having another artist who you respect look at the work as a set of second eyes was really valuable. The book was printed in Estonia, with a great company called As Ingri. There were a few language barrier problems here and there, but basically I can’t recommend them enough to anyone printing books in Europe. They are the same company that prints Kuti Kuti.

How did you come across Sakura Maku’s work and what was it about her work that made you want to take a chance on publishing it?

Sequence from 'Dark Tomato'

I’ve followed Sakura’s work for years. Back in 2005, when my first book Christina and Charles was published by Sparkplug, Sakura also had a new book out: CheebCheebShkaa. That comic had a big effect on me. I’m very drawn to things that may look like a brash visual statement on first glance but reveal themselves to have an undertone of sophisticated and experimental writing. I think of Sakura as a strong writer with a prose style that can be either taken as very heartfelt or highly unreliable. It has a welcoming tone to it but also something assaulting laced in there.

I asked Sakura to contribute a piece to my magazine Windy Corner. That story, You Turn My Lights directly influenced my work, especially on the Disgusting Room. Sakura’s work is powerful enough, to me, that I know there will be people who read this new book and find something in it that will drive them to new ways of thinking/making art/walking down the street.

How are you distributing Dark Tomato? Are you getting it in any comic stores? Beyond buying it at the Domino site, how can people pick up a copy?

Now that I’m back living in the USA, I can focus a lot more on getting Dark Tomato out there. Dark Tomato is already in a lot of stores, especially some great bookstores, including McNally Jackson, St. Mark’s Books, Desert Island, Forbidden Planet, Spoonbill and Sugartown, Jim Hanleys and Book Thug in New York. Floating World in Portland, Quimbys in Chicago, Fantastic Comics in Berkeley, Copacetic in Pittsburgh, Atomic Books in Baltimore, and Konstig Art Books and Larrys Corner in Stockholm.

Sequence from 'Dark Tomato'

But there are a lot of stores out there that would be receptive to Dark Tomato and Domino that I just haven’t gotten to yet, mainly because sending large store orders in Sweden was very expensive. But there are great adventorous sotres all over the country and it’s really a matter of approaching them.

I worked in a comic store for years, and this was during a time when everyone was talking about “the death of the pamphlet comic.” But I remember pamphlet comics doing very well, even odd ones, if they were presented to the customer with care and hand-sold. I hand sold a lot of copies of Jin and Jam when I worked at Forbidden Planet. A lot of regular comic stores have this attitude: “We ordered 5 copies of that weird comic, and now it’s sold out. Let’s not order anymore because at least we didn’t lose money on it.” But when I did the small press buying for Forbidden Planet, we would often end up selling hundreds of copies of strange mini-comics, just by reordering them and treating them with respect. There are many stores out there that have that attitude and that’s who Domino wants to work with.

Tony Shenton is great — he’s our main distributor. I ordered a lot of stuff through Tony when I worked at Forbidden Planet and I admire his operation a lot. He cares about comics and he really does the work. I wish economics were such that he had more support.

Im taping up a box today to send to John Porcellino’s Spit and a Half distro. And I’m working on Last Gasp and others. I think, with just one book so far, Domino is a hard sell to more major distros. But we’re trying to reach out to everyone.

What were you doing in Sweden?

I met Clara Bessijelle in New York a few years ago, She was visiting Brooklyn from her native Sweden. I decided to move over there to live with her. Now we both moved back together to Brooklyn. While I was over there, because I didn’t know that many people, I was able to focus on my art and cartooning to the degree that I always wanted to. I also got to learn Stone Lithography at a really great school called Kungliga konsthögskolan (Royal Academy of Fine Arts). Now that I’m back in the USA, I really feel so much more in control and disciplined with my art, and can’t wait to get to all the work I want to do.

What’s next on your publishing schedule? What books are you looking to release in the near future?

Domino has a lot of books planned for the next 6 months. Hopefully, in December we will have comics by Clara Bessijelle and Jesse McManus out. Later on, we’re hopefully working with two Closed Caption Comics members: Molly Colleen O’Connell and Mollie Goldstrom on two seperate books. Im starting work on an anthology that will feature Joanna Hellgren, Warren Craghead and EB Bethea. There is this artist called Jonathan Petersen that I’m really interested in — I want to contact him to see if he’s interested in publishing something  when I’m sure I have the finances to do something substantial with him. I also have a book of my own, The Life Problem, that I hope to put out very soon but I need to get the money in place.

There are a lot of artists within comics that I really want to do something with and that is what Domino is focused on now. But eventually I want to branch out and find people doing books with stories and art that don’t exactly belong in the comics world, or think about comics that much. The world of comics is so rich, but there’s other art out there that is close to my heart that I want to work with.

From Scott C's 'Pop Goes the Weasel'

All this week at Robot 6 we’re interviewing some of the many contributors to First Second’s new anthology, Nursery Rhyme Comics. In today’s final installment, Chris Mautner talks to cartoonist Scott C.

If anyone in this new anthology seemed like a “must-get,” it surely was the cartoonist known as Scott C., a.k.a. Scott Campbell. His charming, anthropomorphic — and frequently sardonic — work, whether found in video games made by Double Fine Studios, in comics like Hickee and the Flight anthologies, or in his new book, Amazing Everything: The Art of Scott C. seems perfectly suited to the off-kilter, frequently surreal world that nursery rhymes frequently seem to inhabit. The fact that he chose one of the most manic rhymes of the bunch — “Pop Goes the Weasel” — seems equally fitting.

How did you get involved in this particular project and what led to you selecting this particular nursery rhyme?

I’ve known Chris Duffy for awhile through Nickelodeon magazine. When he asked me to take part in the project, there were not many rhymes left. I chose Pop! Goes The Weasel because it is the most nonsensical of any of the rhymes and I thought it would be fun to pick apart.

If memory serves me well, there’s a couple different versions (or at least verses) of Pop Goes the Weasel. What led you to pick these particular verses and did you have to do any research per se?

Oh, man. I researched this rhyme like crazy. Even after Chris had tried to convince me that such a thing was futile when it came to nursery rhymes. I guess I feel that even if there are a million versions of a rhyme and no real origins, there may be some inkling something that could spur an idea. This particular rhyme had an interesting common aspect to it in which Pop! Goes The Weasel was a popular dance back in the 1700s. I think. And the variety of wacky lyrics were merely roundabout ways to get to that awesome dance. So I incorporated that into the comic a bit and chose the version that I remembered from my childhood.

Did the fact that it was such a short comic — two pages — present any challenges for you?

Well, not for pop goes the weasel. It’s a short high energy rhyme, so two pages is perfect. It would be a funny thing to see stretched to a graphic novel length though. Really explore the popping of the weasel

What led to the decision to use circle panels with this comic?

The circle panels felt like pops. Like bubbles. And the rolling around energy that the story had. If you can call it a story.

Your comics in general seem to have a fondness for anthropomorphism. Did this particular nursery rhyme seem like a good fit for you for that reason?

I use cute little faces on things all the time. In this poem, it worked nicer than other times. It matched the nonsense of the poem.

So what’s going on with that weasel anyway? Is he jumping? Having a fit? Passing gas? He seems so placid about the whole affair.

He is bursting onto the scene and pop locking, I think. He loves hiding in there, waiting for the perfect moment to knock everyone’s socks off with his moves the least everyone expects it.