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

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.

“We had a record amount of entries from publishers this year with more than forty-five different titles” said FCBD spokesperson Leslie Jackson. “Retailers on the committee had a tough time deciding on which titles to choose for Gold sponsorship, but we’re sure fans will be pleased with the line-up for next year.”

While the choices may have been difficult, it’s hard to imagine that someone couldn’t come up with something more enticing than what Image has to offer: “An anthology featuring all-new stories with a mix of Image’s old and new best loved characters!” Could you possibly get any vaguer than that? They don’t even have a cover design. If my comic got bumped for that, I’d be steaming. On the other hand, Archaia’s 48-page hardcover, featuring new material (not reprints or bits of something to come) looks mighty sweet, all the more so because they name names: A Mouse Guard story from David Petersen, a Jim Henson’s Labyrinth story by Ted Naifeh and Cory Godbey, a side story from Royden Lepp’s new graphic novel Rust, a Cursed Pirate Girl story from Jeremy Bastian, a Cow Boy story by Chris Eliopoulos and Nate Crosby, and a Dapper Men tale from Jim McCann and Janet Lee. There’s this year’s wow factor.

The line-up actually seemed pretty obvious to me, so I went back and looked at the Gold Sponsors for the past five years. Sure enough, six of the publishers are there every year: Archie, Dark Horse, DC, IDW, Image, Marvel. Since five of these are also Diamond’s premier publishers, and Archie is a newsstand juggernaut, there’s no surprise there. BOOM! Studios has been a Gold Sponsor for the past four years and Archaia for the past three. The other slots vary: Ape Entertainment was a Gold Sponsor in 2011 and 2010 but is missing this year, and Bongo and Oni are back after a two-year absence. Others who have popped up once or twice in the past five years: NBM/Papercutz (2011), Drawn & Quarterly (2010), Viz (2008 and 2009), Dynamite (2008), Virgin (2008), Gemstone (2007), and Tokyopop (2007).

There’s more to come: The Silver Sponsors will be announced next week.

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

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.

Little Tommy Lost

Welcome to another round of What Are You Reading. Our guest this week is Annie Koyama, owner and operator of the wonderful Koyama Press, which publishes fantastic books that you should buy ASAP. To see what Annie and the rest of the Robot 6 crew are reading this week, click on the link below.

Flash #1

Tim O’Shea: Black Panther 523.1: If you have not checked out writer David Liss’ approach on Black Panther, here is your chance with this standalone tale. I am one of those readers that never enjoyed Reginald Hudlin’s approach to the character, so I welcomed the opportunity for a different writer to take a swing at Panther. Setting him in Hell’s Kitchen has been a really boost for the character—and one that I hope sticks around for a while.

Captain America 622: Yeah I repeat myself some weeks on WAYR. But why the hell should I need to say more than Chris Samnee art colored by Bettie Breitweiser? (And I really feel badly for failing to mention Breitweiser’s role in making Hulk 41 look so damn good last week.)

Venom 7: I come for the Tom Fowler art and stick around for Rick Remender’s writing. It’s nice to see Flash Thompson’s character fleshed out (no pun intended) in this series. Don’t know how many people are just checking the book out because of Spider Island, but I hope they stick around.

Justice League Dark 1: The last time I have read anything by Peter Milligan was likely The Human Target. His creative pursuits and my interests just rarely intersect. But he may have hooked me in the scene where Shade the Changing Man reveals certain truths to his girlfriend about the dynamics of their relationship. I like the concept of a Justice League for fighting magic (despite the fact Shadowpact has already been down this road, admittedly).

Superman 1: The numbers drop between 1 and 2 on this book is going to stun DC. Even if the writing had not been so uneven, the news that writer George Pérez is leaving with issue 7 will prompt some folks to bolt. I wonder why this book was not more tightly edited (oh wait, because they had to get 51 other issues out in the same month). Clark Kent’s newspaper story serving as the narrative device for this issue made it even a more boring read for me. Do that bit for one or two scenes, but not almost the whole book. A good comic can sometimes read like a fun soap opera episode. A weak comic reads like a wince- inducing soap opera. I am wincing as I write this.

Flash 1: In the race to win my interest for issue 2, Barry Allen wins (beating Superman quite easily). Co-creators Francis (writer/artist) Manapul and Brian (Writer/Colorist) Buccellato construct a hero with a sense of humor and who can think fast on his feet (heh, see what I did there, yeah I wrote a lame cliché). Seriously though, from the dialogue to the layout, there is nothing rushed (except for the character, of course) or half-baked. Sidebar: do you think DC intentionally wanted to run the Converse ads this month — particularly in this issue the six different versions of Flash in that ad might confuse those potential new readers they are trying to gain and weaken the brand building DC wants to establish

Firestorm 1: This is not Gail Simone at her best, not even close (why would a character insult a jock by calling him “boy band” for instance?; why introduce a female scientist who’s one bit of dialogue is to hit on doomed scientist for this plot [hopefully she has a role of more substance down the road]). This smacked of a bad afterschool special on the perils of weak journalistic ethics or the struggle of race dynamics in the current age. Also am I the only person who momentarily mistook the villains in this issue for the new Blackhawks? Wonderful art by Yildiray Cinar though, but not enough to get me back for issue 2.

Aquaman 1: The last time I enjoyed Geoff Johns writing consistently may have been around the time of the first JSA relaunch (no really). So the deck was stacked against him on this first issue of Aquaman. But two things put this book in the winning column: Aquaman’s two hands. OK, it was more than that, namely the scene in the diner–heck the fact that Aquaman ordered fish at a diner. Quirky stuff.

Secret Avengers 17: As much as I loved Warren Ellis on Secret Avengers 16, I am stymied by his writing in this issue. He writes a Cap that is like that crazy rec league coach who yells at his team for their performance. As much as I love Kev Walker’s art on Thunderbolts, he is ill-suited for this comic. Sharon Carter looks downright ugly (and unrecognizable from the way Walker typically draws her in certain panels). This was a done-in-one effort I wish I had left on the shelf. Avengers Academy 19: Christos Gage and company continue the streak of writing the best Avengers book, hands down. I really admire how Gage incorporated the Fear Itself storyline without allowing it to derail the pacing of the story or growth in characters. In fact, he used the event to his story’s overall benefits.

Power Girl

Tom Bondurant: I really liked IDW’s new Abramsverse Star Trek #1 (written by Mike Johnson, drawn by Stephen Molnar), but then I am pretty much the target audience for the book. For at least the first few arcs, it will re-stage Original-Series episodes for the timeline created in the 2009 movie. First up is Samuel Peeples’ “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” the series’ second pilot episode and the first featuring Kirk (and Scotty and Sulu, but they didn’t get to do a lot). It’s not a straight-up adaptation, but the basic storyline remains intact: the Enterprise encounters a log-recorder from S.S. Valiant which warns of bad tidings around the galactic barrier; and sure enough, the barrier zaps Kirk’s friend Gary Mitchell with energy which magnifies his latent psionic powers. Before you can say “Dark Phoenix,” he’s showing off a little too much, and it’s time for issue #2. I kid, but I do think Johnson and Molnar have a good handle on the characters’ voices and likenesses. In a few panels Kirk looks about 19, but he had that problem in the movie too. Also, Molnar’s poses can sometimes be a bit stiff, and his pacing a bit off. I’m not sure if that’s a hazard of movie adaptations generally, but that’s what it reminded me of here. Still, the issue moves pretty well without getting bogged down in technobabble. While this series is perhaps best appreciated by those of us who wondered what the old stuff would look like “updated,” it’s a good read regardless.

As it happens, the first issue of Power Girl came out around the same time as 2009′s Trek movie, because I remember
picking up a copy on the way to the theater. (How’s that for a segue?) The first arc (featuring the Ultra-Humanite) didn’t grab me, but I kept hearing good things. Finally, I got the two paperbacks collecting Justin Gray, Jimmy Palmiotti, and Amanda Conner’s twelve issues, and I’m glad I did. Conner’s work especially brings wit and vitality to PG’s adventures, particularly the ones involving intergalactic swinger Vartox. However, overall these issues combine PG’s somewhat jaded, day-at-the-office attitude with a fun, anything-goes spirit, to excellent effect. There’s no getting around the cheesecake factor (my wife commented on it immediately), and an issue which PG spends mostly bound and gagged in Ultra’s torture device helped turn me off the book initially. In the larger context, though, it’s not really that salacious, and after a while it’s more farcical than anything else. Considering some of the now-infamous New-52 books, here’s hoping Conner gets to work on another DC title soon.

It’s purely coincidental that I re-watched 2008′s The Dark Knight right before picking up the paperback of 2005′s Batman: Dark Detective (written by Steve Englehart, pencilled by Marshall Rogers, inked by Terry Austin), but I was struck by the superficial similarities. Both feature an old flame of Bruce’s who knows he’s Batman (and who’s romancing a guy who looks like Aaron Eckhart) and both involve Two-Face going after the Joker. Like I said, superficial. I read the miniseries when it came out, but otherwise it’s been a while, so I can’t comment on it as a whole. However, Rogers & Austin’s work seems a lot more sketchy than their previous collaborations in the ’70s and ’80s. It’s still good, just different. Most of this is on Rogers, whose style got more loose over time; but Austin’s inking also loosened up. Their Bruce Wayne in DD has a very thick, squared-off face, almost like Jim Rockford meets Tim Sale’s For All Seasons Superman, and it’s hard to get used to. Their Joker is still fantastic, though — cold green eyes which seem to rest in those pale sockets like oiled ball bearings.

Oh! Before I forget, Kate Beaton’s new Hark! A Vagrant collection is just off-the-charts funny, page after page. The best part is that the subject matter makes virtually every comic timeless (sorry, hook-handed Aquaman). If you are able, you should get it, or at least pore obsessively over the website.

Laddertop

Brigid Alverson: Mental illness is a difficult topic, but it is also a wonderful subject for comics artists, because of the visual possibilities. Look Straight Ahead is a webcomic about a teenager with mental illness. It starts with the alienation of high school life — bullying, an unrequited crush — but in addition to that Jeremy, the main character, is hearing voices in his head and having freaky dreams — when he can sleep at all. In the third chapter he crosses over the boundary into delusions and paranoia, and his parents commit him to a mental hospital. Creator Elaine M. Will does a superb job of illustrating what’s going on inside of Jeremy’s head, constructing imaginary worlds out of galaxies and puzzle pieces, drawing what he is feeling as well as what he is seeing. She also makes very clever use of limited color in the hallucination sequences. Yet at the same time the comic is very grounded, and Jeremy’s delusions are presented as being of a piece with the other miseries of his life. It’s a fascinating comic, and the story is still unfolding, with two new pages going up each week.

Unlike Tom, I’m not the target audience at all for IDW’s Star Trek comic. I haven’t seen the movie, and I haven’t watched the show in about 20 years and yet I enjoyed it quite a bit. The story was clear, and everything I needed to know was in the comic. I liked the straightforward art style as well. I wish I could say the same for the first issue of their Ghostbusters comic. The story was a lot busier than the Star Trek comic, and with lots of cuts and scene changes it would be confusing anyway, but I kept feeling like I was missing some important bit of backstory. Again, I’m not the target audience, having last seen the movie about 10 years ago; I’m sure it would be a better experience for true fans.

I whiled away a bit of time with Laddertop, by Orson Scott Card and Emily Janice Card (apparently the three-names thing is hereditary). Although his name is in smaller type on the cover, I’d like to give Honoel A. Ibardolaza a shout-out for his lively manga-style art. “Manga-style art” is a deal-killer for a lot of people, but this is unusually well done. The story itself is sort of strange: Long ago, aliens gave the human race a gift of four 36,000-mile-high towers, each topped with a space station that provides clean energy for the earth. They are maintained by specially trained children who go to an elite school, Laddertop Academy. The main characters are two spunky 11-year-old girls, and we get to follow them through their training.It’s like Twin Spica Lite. My biggest problem with this book is that I have a healthy respect for the laws of physics and therefore I cannot accept the notion of a 36,000-mile-high-tower. That just wouldn’t work. But the idea of aliens gifting humans with technology and then leaving is kind of cool; it’s clear that the people running these things don’t totally get what they are. I’m only about a third of the way through the first volume, but there’s enough here to keep me interested.

The Freddy Stories

Annie Koyama: Since I began publishing indie comics, zines and art books in 2007, I rarely have time to read as much as I would like any more. I’m embarrassed to admit that I have boxes filled with books and zines I bought as far back as TCAF and MoCCA in 2010 that I haven’t read yet. The irony does not escape me.

This is a selection of what I have read lately. I’ll leave out things like Death Ray by Daniel Clowes since many others will cover the bigger current releases much more thoroughly than I could.

I’ve enjoyed Gabrielle Bell’s comics and love the ‘Diary’ and ‘San Diego Diary’ books published by Uncivilized Books. I like a lot of autobiographical comics but the best ones for me deal well with the mundane aspects of life. Her use of black ink for shading is so great. I don’t usually have time or the inclination to re-read books, but I have done that with these ones.

At the recent Fan Expo show in Toronto, I met Drazen Kozjan and got his self-published mini ‘The Happy Undertaker’. The art is beautiful and reminds me of Edward Gorey, Ronald Searle and San Francisco artist Roman Muradov whose work you should also check out

I just read the new Xeric funded book ‘Freddy Stories’ by Melissa Mendes. I’ve followed Melissa’s work for a couple years now and love how she draws the character Freddy. It’s charming and makes me want to see more of Freddy and what Melissa comes up with next.

I am nuts about Cole Closser’s work. I’ve got ‘Little Tommy Lost Book One’. His style is reminiscent of the comics my mom had around when I was little. His book design, colour palette and and stories are like nothing else out there right now.

Pope Hats #2

There will be a lot of great reviews for Ethan Rilly’s new ‘Pope Hats Number 2’ published by AdHouse Books so I will concentrate on what I like about his work. Ethan’s drawings are fantastic. With my film background, I automatically read and picture some books as films. There’s a page involving a character on a bus and the angles Ethan uses to portray the inertness of the scene is wonderfully filmic. I want to see more of these stories and look forward to ‘Pope Hats Number 3’.

I am loving Alex Schubert’s books ‘The Blobby Boys’ and ‘The Dudes’. The colours are gorgeous, I like the characters and the covers are great. You can see his work on the great site What Things Do and at Vice. Nathan Stapley is an amazing painter and I love his mini comics like ‘A Christmas Carol And Other Holiday Tales’. I’d be very happy to see a book of his paintings.

‘Nogoodniks’ by Adrian Norvid published by Drawn & Quarterly is a lovely hardcover of his drawings and collages. It reminds of me of the first book I published called ‘Trio Magnus: Equally Superior’.

Matthew Forsythe’s books are always beautiful and his illustrations in ‘My Name Is Elizabeth’ by Annika Dunklee published by Kids Can Press are no exception. I’m publishing his new ‘Comics Class’ book of his semi-autobiographical teaching experiences due out in time for the Brooklyn Comics & Graphics Festival.

I am a big fan of zines too. Canadian James Kirkpatrick aka Thesis Sahib consistently puts out really interesting ones, the latest I have is called ‘New Strangers’ published by Le Dernier Cri. It comes with a CD too.

I also love his ‘Journey Through Time & Shapes’, a silk screened collaboration with Jamie Q. Perhaps my favourite zine/printmaker is Luke Ramsey. I recommend anything he does, many of which are collaborative efforts. He’s such a prolific artist whose joy, sense of wonder and social justice are evident in all of his work.

Thanks to Chris Mautner for having me contribute! Now back to that huge pile of unread treasures.

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.

After a brief one-month vacation, Comics College is back with a look at the bibliography of one of the brighter stars indie comics sky, Adrian Tomine.

Why he’s important

Tomine initially came to prominence when he was still in high school, self-publishing issues of his mini-comic, Optic Nerve. In some ways it seems he’s been on the defensive ever since then, despite the justified acclaim he’s received. He got accused of selling-out once once he moved over to Drawn & Quarterly. He then got accused of pandering to trendy, hipster “emo” attitudes with his frequent focus on disaffected twentysomethings. Then he was decried by some as creating “stories about nothing.”

None of those things are true, of course. Since teaming up with Drawn & Quarterly in 1995, Tomine has proven to be one of the best short story writers in the industry, creating affecting tales of people plagued by insecurity. He never spells anything out, but he’s a master of naturalistic dialogue and expression, and often able to convey in a few panels a character’s inner thoughts without resorting to wordy thought balloons or text boxes.

If nothing else, he should be admired for stubbornly sticking to the pamphlet format when every other alt-cartoonist of note has grudgingly abandoned it.

Where to start

For new readers coming to Tomine’s work for the first time, Summer Blonde, a collection of Tomine’s later, longer short stories (roughly Optic Nerve #5-8) might be the best place to start. It’s the beginning of what could arguably called his mature period, with Tomine taking more time and care to offer detailed, perceptive portraits of deeply insecure or otherwise emotionally and socially awkward people, “Bomb Scare” and the title story being the best of the bunch.

On the other hand, if you’re looking for a cheaper entry point, there’s the latest issue of Optic Nerve, No. 12, which just arrived in stores last week. It’s a good issue, too, featuring a suburban gardener who attempts to create art by combining his landscape know-how with sculpture only to face derision from just about everyone, and “Amber Sweet,” the story of a young girl who just happens to be a dead ringer for a well-known porn star.

From there you should read

Shortcomings is Tomine’s best work to date by far, but it’s drawn criticism by some for having a main character that’s basically an insufferable asshole. I don’t remember reading any rules of literature that dictated that the lead character had to be likable, but apparently that’s an issue with some readers. It’s a shame, however, as a closer reading, I think, reveals that despite Ben Tanaka’s pathetic behavior, he’s not a character that alien from people we know or even ourselves, especially in his search for love, security and a removal of self-loathing.  It’s a near-perfect story of person who desperately needs to alter their way of living yet seems unable to find a way to do so.

Further reading

Once you’ve read those books, it’s time to go back to Tomine’s earlier works, beginning with Sleepwalk and Other Stories, which collects the stories from the first four D&Q issues of Optic Nerve. There’s the occasional misstep here, but by and large this is solid work, with Tomine slowly trying on different voices and storytelling devices, and finding his voice. “Dylan and Donovan” is probably my personal favorite of the bunch here.

Moving even further back in time, there’s 32 Stories, the collection of Tomine’s initial mini-comics he did in high school. Last year D&Q reissued the stories in their original minicomic form, all nicely packaged in a slim cardboard box.While Tomine’s work has improved considerably since these initial forays, it’s still rather remarkable how confident and strong his work is here. No wonder he got the attention he did so quickly.

Ancillary materials

Scenes from an Impending Marriage

Scenes From an Impending Marriage is a trifle, but it’s a charming trifle, a minicomic Tomine did for his wedding guests chronicling the stress he and his then-fiance went through preparing for their nuptuals. It’s familiar enough material (trying to find the right DJ, mailing invitations, etc.) to bring a smile to anyone who’s gone down the aisle themselves, or witnessed plenty of their friends doing the same.

Finally, there’s Scrapbook, a paperback collection of sketches, illustration art and other ephemera. The most notable thing about this book is the inclusion of a series of uber-short strips Tomine did for Tower Records’ Pulse! magazine, all of which are pretty great.

Avoid

Nothing really. Tomine’s output has been relatively strong over the years with never such a serious drop in quality as for me to recommend you avoid something of his. It’s all good.

Next month: Because you asked for it! (Okay, not really.) Grant Morrison

The Death Ray

Apart from all the “new 52″ brouhaha, one of the more interesting and talked about bits of online  was Michael Fiffe’s essay on the delineations between mainstream (i.e. superhero) comics and the alt/indie comics scene. Spinning off of his essay, I thought it would be fun to list my own favorite super-styled tales by folks who usually don’t do that type of material, some of which Fiffe talked about in his essay.

Note: For the purposes of this article I’m deliberately avoiding any of the officially sanctioned productions from the Big Two, namely Strange Tales and Bizarro Comics, just to make it a wee bit harder.

1. The Death Ray by Daniel Clowes. Clowes’ rare dip into super-genre waters involves Andy, a withdrawn and awkward teen being raised by his grandfather who discovers his late scientist dad gave him the ability of super-strength whenever he smokes a cigarette, as well as a special gun that helps … get rid of unwanted things and people. Unable to find a good use for his newfound powers — his attempts at heroics fall flat on their face — things quickly spiral out of control. Yes, to some extent the book is a comment on the superhero genre’s inability to deal with or examine real life issues, but Clowes is not drawing on snark here; Death Ray is a haunting character study of a young man whose inner demons drive him to do horrible things. Easily Dan Clowes best, richest work to date, Drawn & Quarterly is releasing a spiffy new hardcover edition of the book this fall, so there’s really no excuse not to check it out.

Panel from 'The Ti-Girls'

2. The Ti-Girls by Jaime Hernandez. The Hernandez brothers have never kept their love for classic superhero stories a secret, so it really wasn’t that much of a surprise when Jaime opted to mark the debut issue of Love and Rockets New Stories in 2008 with The Ti-Girls, about a an older all-female superhero team that reunites to stop a newly superpowered Penny Century from running amok due as she tries to find her lost children. The plot’s a bit convoluted, but there’s no question Hernandez has a knack for delineating kick-ass fight scenes. Ti-Girls isn’t just an example of how alt-cartoonists can enliven the genre, it’s an example of how poorly the Big Two handle female characters in general.

Destroy!!

3. Destroy by Scott McCloud. McCloud’s oversize smash-em-up, done after completing Zot! in 1986, is the most obvious parody of the bunch on this list, but it’s a fun parody, winking with affection at the sheer ludicrousness of most superhero battles. One long fight scene from beginning to end, Destroy is nothing more or less than two overpowered musclemen laying complete waste to New York City. If that doesn’t tickle your fancy I don’t know what will.

4. The Amazing Life of Onion Jack by Joel Priddy. AdHouse’s Project Superior anthology — a thick book of superhero tales by alt-cartoonists — was successful enough that publisher Chris Pitzer briefly attempted to spin it off into a pamphlet series. That in turn led to Priddy contributing this story for AdHouse’s 2004 Free Comic Book Day, turning in what ended up being the best of the bunch. Jack is a charming, minimalist tale about a WWII-era superhero who really would prefer to be a fine chef, but keeps getting pulled into battle. Each page chronicles a different era in the hero’s life, which really plays nicely to Priddy’s spot-on comedic timing. Though the original issuemight be hard to find, the story, thankfully is also included in the 2006 edition of The Best American Comics.

5. Batman by Josh Simmons. Simmons is one of the pre-eminent horror cartoonists working in the field today, and in this unofficial “tribute” he applies all his creepy skills to the Dark Knight. Batman’s been portrayed as borderline psychotic in some past DC books, but never to the extent he is here, as his war on crime seems to have driven him completely insane, to the point where he’s sleeping on dirty roofs and preying on helpless junkies. Even Catwoman has lost interest in the poor slob. It’s an unsettling in the best sense of the word that never comes off as a simple “superheroes are dumb” screed.

6. High School Analogy by Ron Rege Jr. Not every story in the seminal Coober Skeber #2 (i.e. “the Marvel Benefit Issue”) was gold, but it contained enough stellar work (and more significantly, introduced readers to the Fort Thunder crowd) to be fondly remembered and highly influential. One of the highlights — arguably the best story in the entire anthology — was Ron Rege Jr’s take on Spider-Man. Drawing heavily on Ditko and Lee’s original stories, Rege plays up Peter Parker’s angst and isolation with a slightly modern spin (“I’m on edge every day when I come to this fucking place,” Parker thinks about school at one point), to really capture the sort of inner turmoil a lot of teen-agers go through. In a way, Rege got what Lee and Ditko were doing better than some of the artists and writers that followed the duo in the “real” Spider-Man books.

Daybreak

For the last few years, when not busy with his day job teaching sequential art at the Savannah College of Art and Design (SCAD), Brian Ralph has been busy working on his latest graphic novel, Daybreak. The book is a slight departure of sorts for Ralph — best known for his early work as part of the highly influential Fort Thunder collective and for books like Cave-In —  in that it delves into the horror genre. Yes, it’s another zombie book, but it’s a zombie book with a unique twist, with everything viewed from the perspective of an unnamed survivor (i.e. the reader), as he explores a foreboding landscape and finds a potential friend amidst all the devastation.

Daybreak makes it debut at Comic-Con this year, and Ralph will be on a panel at 5 p.m. (Pacific time) 14today with Anders Nilsen and Jeff Smith on the subject of “Epic Literary Adventures” (in Room 9).

I talked with Ralph over email about the panel, the new book, and the adventures of teaching comics to college students.

Daybreak is a horror story told from a unique, first-person perspective. Which came first for you, the desire to do a horror tale or the unique way of telling it?

I don’t play video games, but I felt there was something exciting about how a person could be immersed in the world of a video game. With comics the reader isn’t an active participant in the storytelling. I wanted to make a comic that, in it’s own way, achieve some feeling of participation and immersion. I was looking for interactivity of some kind.

I had not seen a “first-person shooter” style of comic before. It turned out to be very exciting approach to storytelling. I was constantly trying to figure out new ways for the reader to feel like they were interacting with the characters and become characters in the story as well. I made some decisions along the way; to never show the reader’s “character” such as in a mirror. I didn’t want the reader to talk with a word balloon. I felt those things would break the illusion. It was tricky to work with those constraints, but such a fun challenge.

The horror direction just happened naturally at the same time to be honest. I love zombie apocalypse movies and books. But it’s not the gore or the violence or even the zombies that I’m attracted to. It’s the landscape, and the constant need to explore and move around the landscape that I found the most compelling to depict in this comic.
During the process of making Daybreak over these years I’ve had people roll their eyes, “oh the zombie apocolypse thing is so played out” or whatever. But I would hate for my book to be thrown into that pile, because I feel that if you give it a chance you’ll see that it’s unique. But also, a part of the challenge was in fact to work within a genre where I had seen it all. It’s exciting to try to bring something different to the genre.

From 'Daybreak'

You originally serialized Daybreak with Bodega but opted to go with D&Q for the final collected version. Why? Are you still a fan of serialization? Did serializing Daybreak give you any benefits or feedback that you wouldn’t have gotten if you had just released it as one book?

I was drawing two pages at a time and putting them on the Bodega blog once a week. That kept me on a schedule, I knew that there might be people expecting to see the work every Monday. It also kept the pacing pretty snappy, it was like every two pages was a cliff-hanger or an exciting page turn. I got really used to that rhythm. It kept the story moving at a brisk pace.

In terms of serializing the work with Randy at Bodega, it seemed like an interesting way to present it. I’m used to the artist sequestering themselves away for years and then emerging with this massive tome. But in this case, we presented it online and then did a yearly serialized book at SPX. It was exciting. It really got me talking to the readers more at conventions. They would tell me things they wanted to see. They were curious about how it would end. People were very open to discussing their ideas. With other books, the work is done — there’s no discussion. I was always interested to hear people’s opinions and theories about what I was trying to accomplish. “It’s going to turn out to all be a dream” was something I heard a lot. One reader sent me an email pointing out panels where I had made errors. Especially where I had reversed the missing right arm to the left.

My understanding was that Randy wanted to take a break from publishing, and so he and Tom at D+Q discussed the idea of D+Q doing the collection. Tom and I are close friends from the Highwater days, so it seemed like a natural progression. Randy was involved with the whole process of collecting the books so it was great that he stayed involved.

You talk about exploring the landscape, which is a trait that’s shared with your other book, Cave-In. And the Fort Thunder group, of which you were a part, were all very much interested in using comics to explore a space or landscape. Why is this? Where does that interest come from?

I’ve heard this type of comic described as “Walking Around Comics” or “Video Game comics” which I think would refer to the fact that they aren’t really written in a traditional way. I think everyone at Fort Thunder came upon this style of non-writing in a genuine way. We played video games, we explored abandoned buildings, we wandered around Providence, we lived in a cavernous and weird space. I think the stories emerged from all of those things.
We never talked about it, so I’m just guessing, but I think there was an interest in very pure, stripped-down storytelling. Just moving characters through spaces. That’s it. Exploring the basics of storytelling.

From 'Daybreak'

You stick to a very basic six-panel grid throughout the book, which I don’t think you ever vary from. Why? What did this format give you in terms of storytelling that a different set-up wouldn’t?

I felt as though the consistent six-panel grid would help the reader lose themselves in the story. I believe it helps the read forget they are reading a story drawn by an artist’s hand, instead they can completely experience the story as if they are there. That’s the hope at least. I didn’t find it limiting at all, it was a lot of fun actually. Also, this story is unlike a traditional comic because it’s meant to actually feel like this is actually happening to the reader, through their own eyes.

What was the biggest challenge of maintaining that “first-person” look for the book? Was there any point where you worried you were going to have to break one of your rules?

I had to really carefully consider the dialogue. Our one-armed friend in the story talks to us, the reader, and asks questions. I wanted it to feel like he was carrying on a conversation with the reader. There’s a couple times in the book where we the reader pick up an object. Since I didn’t want to show our hands, I would do a panel of the object that we’re picking up, an axe for example. I would hope that the reader would then understand that we did pick it up and could use it. My favorite sequence is where we shoot a weapon, that was a leap of faith and I think it worked.

You don’t show the main character at all, but you also don’t show the zombies much, apart from a leg or arm here or there. Why? What did that decision give you in terms of building tension in the book?

I made a couple attempts at sketching the zombies thinking, of course, that I should include them, but I kept finding ways to avoid them. I wasn’t sure why, but it never felt right. Ultimately I decided that it just wasn’t necessary for the story I was trying to tell. The story is about traveling around with a stranger and becoming friends. Are any zombie stories really about the zombies? I don’t think so. The stories and movies are about the survivors having to form relationships. The blood and guts cheapen that. Plus, what a fun constraint, to draw a zombie book without ever showing a zombie? That’s crazy.

The main relationship in the book is between the main character (i.e. the reader) and the one-armed man. How important was that relationship to the book’s coherence and story arc?

I think that’s the whole story. It’s about making a friend and then having to say goodbye to him. I really came to like that character and I didn’t want to let him go.

From 'Daybreak'

Peggy Burns at D&Q mentioned that you are teaching comics at SCAD. How did you end up doing that? What has that experience been like?

I had been teaching Illustration for years at MICA (Maryland Institute College of Art) in Baltimore and really enjoying it. SCAD has an actual Sequential Art major and that really interested me, so I traveled to Savannah to visit and really fell in love with the department, the faculty and the students.

I teach classes like Character Design, Introduction to Sequential Art, Alternative Comics, Cartooning, and Materials and Techniques. It’s funny, because I feel as though I’ve learned so much about comics and cartooning by having to teach it. In order to teach a subject you have had to clarify what it is in your head, broken it down, carefully considered everything about it. I’ve critiqued hundreds of pages of comics, maybe more, and I never get tired of problem-solving with the students, figuring out ways to arrange pages and panels to help them tell their stories.

I also understand you’re going to be doing a panel at San Diego with Anders Nilsen and Jeff Smith. Can you give me a preview of what you’ll be discussing?

My version of what I think we’ll be discussing is our thoughts on building and inhabiting these fantasy worlds in our comics. I’m not a big fan of the term “world building” but maybe that’s what it’s about.

When I draw these fantasy landscapes and fantasy characters, I really have to visualize them in my head and inhabit those spaces in order to really make the drawing believable.  The artist must fully believe it in order to pull it off.  It has to be real to the artist.  I think you have to draw what you know, and even though I am drawing fantasy apocalyptic environments and caves, etc, I am pulling from places I have know.

I imagine the panel discussion will be me just nodding my head and agreeing with everything Jeff Smith has to say.

No sooner does The Comics Reporter’s Tom Spurgeon return from hiatus (welcome back, Tom!) than he breaks news of an exciting, and potentially controversial, new comic from Drawn & Quarterly: Jerusalem: Chronicles from the Holy City, the latest in cartoonist Guy Delisle’s series of graphic memoirs-slash-travelogues. Why controversial, you ask? Because Delisle’s travelogues have all chronicled everyday life under infamously repressive regimes — North Korea in Pyongyang, China in Shenzhen, and “Myanmar” in Burma Chronicles. I have a feeling that many people won’t feel super comfortable with Israel keeping that sort of company. On the other hand, the book takes place in part during the three-week Gaza War that resulted in a 1100-plus-to-13 Palestinian-to-Israeli death ratio, so perhaps even Israel supporters could concede that the war-is-hell harshness of this conflict is in keeping with Delisle’s past efforts.

The book is due in Spring 2012, with an initial first printing of 30,000 copies. Click the link for more details, including what publisher and editor-in-chief Chris Oliveros has to say about the project.

Good-Bye Chunky Rice

Cartoonists rarely produce great work right out of the starting gate. It usually it takes lots of time and lots of effort for an artist to hone their style and storytelling abilities. Debut comics — even those made by the greats — rarely offer any indication of what type of treasures lie ahead. Even Chris Ware had to make Floyd Farland before he could produce Jimmy Corrigan.

Still, sometimes a cartoonist seems to spring out of the sea foam fully formed, producing a work that not only draws attention and great buzz, but also indicates exactly where they’re headed — what direction they plan to take as an artist and what you as a reader can expect from them.

Here then, are six debut comics that made people go “Who the heck is this guy? And why haven’t I heard of him before?” I’m sure I missed someone. I always do. Be a dear and let me know who I forgot in the comments section, won’t you?

Night Fisher

1. Goodbye Chunky Rice by Craig Thompson. True, Thompson had done a few mini-comics before Chunky was published, but those weren’t seen by many until years later. Chunky was really the book that introduced readers to Thompson. The reaction to the book was swift and laudatory. I remember people buzzing about the book at SPX that year, wondering who this guy was and how could he produce so moving and assured a work at so young an age. With only three major books to his name so far (four if you count this year’s forthcoming Habibi), he’s remained one of the more beloved and significant creators in the alt-comix landscape.

2. Clumsy by Jeffrey Brown. Rare is the cartoonist who gets a glowing cover blurb from Chris Ware on their very first comic. Brown, however, was lucky enough to do so with his debut book, a cringe-tastic tale of awkward, and ultimately doomed, young love. He’s shown quite a bit of diversity since then, especially in humor books like Incredible Change-Bots, but I don’t know that he’s produced anything as emotionally affecting as this particular title yet.

3. Yummy Fur by Chester Brown. Looking back, it seems hard to believe that Yummy Fur was Brown’s first comic, that he was that good right out of the gate with so few missteps, but it’s true. That very first issue, with the start of the Ed the Happy Clown serial, stories about toilet paper that killed people and oddities like Walrus Blubber Sandwich let readers know from the get-go that there was something unique and potentially unsettling about this particular comic. I remember reading that first issue in my local comic store at the time and being profoundly unnerved by it. So much so that it actually scared me off of Brown’s subsequent work for several years afterward. That’s gotta be a mark of some kind of quality, no?

Lose #1

4. Bone by Jeff Smith. You could ostensibly argue that Smith’s first professional comics work was Bone’s precursor, Thorn, a comic strip he drew for his college newspaper while enrolled at Ohio State University. You could make that argument, but I’m not going to. For all intents and purposes, that first issue of Bone was Smith’s debut into the world of comics, a debut which proceeded to change the landscape for all-ages and alternative comics for years to come. Smith had obviously spent a inordinate amount of time thinking about and developing the series beforehand, since  it’s so assured and fully formed from the first page. His craft and storytelling abilities are just as confident in that first issue as they are in the last.

5. Night Fisher by R Kikuo Johnson. As with Chunky Rice, there was quite a bit of hype and brouhaha over the publication of Johnson’s inaugural work. Publisher Gary Groth even compared its release to the arrival of the first issue of Love and Rockets, or words to that effect. It’s not that good, although this tale of disaffected adolescence and drug dealing in Hawaii is certainly compelling and suggests that Johnson is an artist capable of producing great work. Unfortunately, he has yet to follow up on that initial promise. But Night Fisher still marks him as an artist to watch out for.

6. Lose #1 by Michael DeForge. What planet is DeForge from that he is able to produce such stellar work with such seeming effortlessness? And how is he able to make comics so profoundly creepy? So far he’s produced three issues of Lose and a rather wide assortment of mini-comics and anthology contributions with next to no drop in quality. The confidence this guy exudes on the page, especially in that first issue, is rather shocking honestly. I say we can expect great things from him, but he’s already produced great things, starting with that very first issue of Lose.

Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths

Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths
by Shigeru Mizuki
Drawn and Quarterly, 368 pages, $24.95.

Disclaimer: At the request of the publisher, I wrote a letter of recommendation when they were applying for a grant from a nonprofit organization to aid in the publication and promotion of this book.

Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths is nothing less than a spit in the face of militarism, war and feudal attitudes. It is an angry book, but it doesn’t shriek its indignation, though the temptation certainly seems to be there. There are few histrionics on display or scenes of outright, explicit condemnation. Rather, the book is content to let the general inhumanity on display speak for itself.

Shigeru Mizuki is not a name well known to Western readers. In fact, this is apparently the first book by him to ever reach these shores, at least in English. In his native country, however, he is beloved enough that his characters and images (and even a bronze statue of the cartoonist) dot the streets of his hometown. Indeed judging by what people both in this book and across the Interwebs have to say about him it seems perhaps only giants like Osamu Tezuka are more well known and honored.

Onward doesn’t resemble the characters Mizuki is best known for — the yokai (i.e. folklore monsters) and other creatures that make up his most famous work, Ge Ge Ge no Kitaro. Instead the book offers a somewhat fictionalized account of the author’s time spent in what would eventually become Papua New Guinea during the height of World War II (an experience that cost Mizuki one of his arms). Here, a handful of soldiers are given the task of holding the island back from American troops, a no-win situation that might seem more acceptable if it weren’t for the fact thousands of Japanese troops are being held in reserve only miles away.

At first the soldiers only seem at prey to the elements, wild animals and their own stupidity (one soldier attempts to grab a fish with his mouth and ends up choking on it). As the situation worsens, however, and the enemy draws near they are forced to make a suicide charge by their commanding officer. Mizuki makes clear this is an unwise military strategy; the captain stresses that gurilla tactics would be better, but the commanding officer is green, arrogant and vainglorious, his head full of fairy tales about samurai bravely sacrificing themselves for the greater good.

Indeed, sacrifice is frequently requested and expected by the officers, but with little rhyme, reason or reward. Mizuki portrays Japanese army life as one of not just hardship but outright abuse. The lower ranks and rookies are routinely beaten and kicked because their low status ranks them as little more than cattle. The suicide charge just underscores how dispensable they truly are. And when it all goes wrong and some soldiers make the mistake of surviving, measures are taken to ensure that dignity and decorum is preserved, even if it means a further cost of human life (or, perhaps by extension, winning the war).

Though the backgrounds are heavily detailed almost to the point of pure photorealism (a sequence of American bombs falling and wrecking havoc is one of the most stunning visual sequences in the book) the characters themselves are barely sketched out — little more than basic cartoon shapes actually. Ostensibly, this shouldn’t be too much of a problem, and indeed the juxtaposition between the cartoonish cast and the realistic setting leads to some disturbing moments, particularly in the more violent episodes, and it allows for Mizuki to indulge in the occasional bit of slapstick humor to keep things from getting too dour.

But Onward has a large cast, and despite the character guide offered in the beginning, it’s very hard to tell the soldiers apart, with only shape of their head, body size and a few other distinguishing characteristics, like glasses, to help the reader out. With one or two exceptions, no one in the cast really distinguishes themselves either. We don’t really get to know these men, their past lives and their hopes and fears the way we do in a more traditional war story. While this does help underscore the expendable nature of the grunt soliders, it also has the unfortunate effect of distancing the reader somewhat from the proceedings.

If Onward resembles any Western comic, it is almost certainly It Was the War of the Trenches, Jacques Tardi’s searing indictment of World War I. Like that book, it takes the grunt soldier’s point of view to condemn those in the higher ranks for their general savagery and forcing the men they claim to be responsible to sacrifice the lives of themselves and those around them for selfish, petty reasons. Of the two, I think Trenches is the better book, if only because you become more involved in the rank and file’s inner thoughts, but that’s not to suggest Onward suffers grievously in comparison.

I’ve criticized Drawn and Quarterly in the past for skimping on background and biographical information on their gekiga line. I’m happy to say that’s not the case here. A including a nice introduction by Fredrick Schodt, some helpful footnotes, an afterword by Mizuki and an interview with the author. All of these things add to a deeper appreciation of both the book and Mizuki’s talents and I hope D&Q continues to contribute more text pieces like these in their future manga releases.

For those fascinated by military history and WWII in particular, Onward Towards Our Noble Deaths provides a penetrating look at the suffering and absurd injustice inflicted on Japanese soldiers by their very own army. Some, I suspect, might balk at the author’s portrayal of average grunts, given the atrocity of Japanese war crimes like the Bataan Death March. While he doesn’t directly address these injustices, there can be little doubt after reading the book as to where Mizuki’s sympathies lie. You know who’s side he’s on.

Safe Area Gorazde: Special Edition

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 examining the bibliography of one of the more interesting and significant cartoonists to come out of the alt-comix movement of the 1980s and ’90s, Joe Sacco.

Why he’s important

There’s not many cartoonists in this day and age who can actually say they invented an entirely new genre virtually from scratch. Sacco can. Oh, sure, there were cartoonists poking at the idea of comics journalism before Sacco (most notably Spain), but it wasn’t until Palestine that the idea of using comics as a form of journalism — to relay information and tell important, human-interest stories about events happening around the world, came to the fore. Few have followed Sacco down his chosen path — perhaps out of a fear of putting oneself on the front line — but the fact is you can draw a direct line from works like Safe Area Gorazde to recent books like How to Understand Israel in 60 Days, AD: After the Deluge and even Ward Sutton’s book reviews. Sacco made it OK for cartoonists to explore nonfiction (that wasn’t necessarily autobiographical).

The novelty of Sacco’s particular niche tends to obscure some of his rather significant qualities as an artist and storyteller. He’s an endlessly inventive cartoonist, capable of creating incredible detailed vistas that give readers a definitive sense of place and time. He’s capable of moving from near-photo-like realism to a Basil Wolverton-ish exaggeration that can perfectly capture, say, a sweaty, crowded night club. In short, he’s an amazingly gifted craftsman, one of the best people making comics out there today.

Where to start

Safe Area Gorazde, Sacco’s story about a small, mostly Muslim town that somehow managed to survive the Bosnian War despite being surrounded by Serb forces, was the book that finally broke Sacco out into the wider public (and helped kick-start the graphic novel boom). It arguably remains Sacco’s best work to date (though some may cite his latest, Footnotes in Gaza, as a contendor; more on that in a minute) and is the best starting point for any newcomer. The good news is that Fantagraphics has just released a Special Edition of the book, featuring reference photos, essays, updates on the people Sacco chronicles and more. Fanta has done a good job filling their Special Edition books with choice extras, so I’d say it’s probably worth ponying up the extra scratch for this version.

From there you should read

The Fixer and Other Stories

The Fixer and Other Stories is a good next stop on our journey, as it continues Sacco’s examination of the Bosnian War with a trio of compelling stores: the title tale, about a former soldier who helps correspondents find the headline-grabbing news they want; Soba, about a warrior-poet soldier who finds it difficult to adjust to peacetime; and the brilliant Christmas With Karadzic, wherein he and other reporters go out on a desperate attempt to meet and interview a known war criminal.

Safe Area Gorazde was the book that won Sacco national attention, but it was Palestine that first pointed the way towards what could be done by mixing comics and journalism together. As the title suggests, Sacco makes no bones about where he stands on the Mideast debate, and while he takes care to not present the Israelis as devils or the Palestinians as saints, there are no doubt those who will balk at anything that even suggests that Israel is unjustified in their use of force. It’s not as strong a book as Safe Area — you can sense the author getting a feel for which tone the material should take, starting with an exaggerated self-deprecation before settling down into a more straightforward serious vibe. Again, I’d recommend going with the Special Edition version, which contains a number of lovely extras like sketchbook samples.

If anything Footnotes in Gaza, Sacco’s most recent book is even angrier than Palestine in tone, though it’s far from a polemic. Covering two barely mulled-over events from 1956, he draws deep connections between the injustices committed more than fifty years ago and the abuses heaped on the people living in the Gaza Strip today, detailing a shameful legacy. It’s nothing less than a tour de force, as Sacco weaves effortlessly back and forth between the past and present and relays countless stories almost lost to the ages.

Further reading

But I Like It

When he doesn’t have his reporter’s cap on, Sacco likes to indulge in his cartoony, satirical side, a fact most evident in But I Like It a compendium of rock-oriented, mostly humorous strips, the most notable being In the Company of Long Hair, which recounts Sacco’s adventures as a roadie and t-shirt seller for the punk rock band the Miracle Workers during their European tour. There’s also a self-depricating essay on his love affair with the Rolling Stones, some funny one-page gags about the state of the music industry circa 1991, and some early poster art, not to mention a CD of the Miracle Workers live in concert.

Notes From a Defeatist collects all the material from Sacco’s Fantagraphics-published pamphlet series, Yahoo, including In the Company of Long Hair. Despite that repetition, the book is worth getting, mainly for such pieces as the excellent More Women, More Children, More Quickly, about his Mother’s harrowing experiences in Malta during World War II , and How I Loved the War, a chronicle of his obsession with the first Gulf War. Both stories point the way towards the more serious, political comics he would eventually produce.

Ancillary material

Sacco contributed a powerful story of female refugees entitled Chechen War, Chechen Women, in the Mia Kirshner-edited project I Live Here. In fact, Sacco’s done a number of compelling stories for a variety of magazines, most of which have yet to be collected in one volume. Here’s hoping that changes soon.

Sacco was also a regular collaborator with Harvey Pekar on Pekar’s American Splendor series, a sampling of which you can get via the Music Comics collection from Dark Horse.

Folks who want to hear about Sacco’s personal history and read what he has to say on various comics and journalism related topics should check out a very nice interview with Sacco in the Comics Journal Special Edition Winter 2002. I understand there’s also a notable interview with him in the upcoming Comics Journal Issue #301.

Avoid

I don’t know that I’d say you should necessarily avoid this book, but Spotlight on the Genius That Is Joe Sacco, a 57-page one shot collecting his early, early work (mostly culled from the pages of anthologies like Weirdo) is definitely not the place for newcomers to begin, as the focus is on more slapstick and satirical material, particularly on the vagaries of the corporate, work-a-day world. It’s not Sacco’s best work, certainly, and the fact that some stories are repeated in Notes From A Defeatist make it only that much less essential. Save it for when you’ve indulged in everything else he’s done and still want more.

Paying for It

Paying for It
by Chester Brown
Drawn & Quarterly, 272 pages, $24.95.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that Paying for It, Chester Brown’s latest graphic novel, is an autobiographical work in the same vein as his seminal books The Playboy and I Never Liked You. You’d be forgiven but you’d be wrong. Despite what surface appearances might suggest, the book’s autobiographical and personal elements are in service to its larger goals, which is to serve a polemic. A polemic whose ultimate message is: “Prostitution is really, really awesome.”

If Paying for It bears a resemblance to any of Brown’s previous comics, it’s My Mother Was a Schizophrenic, a short essay of sorts in which Brown laid out it methodical and absorbing detail why he felt schizophrenia wasn’t a mental illness that should be treated with therapy and medicine but simply a label for aberrant and socially unacceptable behavior that needed to be re-evaluated if not retired all together.

Paying for It takes a similar tack, this time with regards to prostitution. As the book begins, Brown’s current romantic relationship has fizzled out, and while he’s not feeling particularly distraught about the break-up, he has no real desire to jump back into the matchmaking waters again. Neither, however, does he want to lead a life of celibacy, which puts him in a bit of a sexual pickle. The solution? Start frequenting “ladies with negotiable affections.”

The bulk of the book then, chronicles his dalliances with a variety of prostitutes (each one gets their own chapter, some more than one). While his initial, stumbling forays into john-dom are somewhat comical (he rides around town on his bike hoping he’ll bump into a streetwalker; he looks under one woman’s bed for miscreants) and he suffers from the chiding and disapproval of his friends (particularly fellow cartoonists Seth and Joe Matt, who provide a good deal of the humor of the book), overall the experience proves to be a positive one for Brown. So much so that he starts to completely rethink his attitude towards romantic love. Romance, he posits, only leads to jealousy and heartache and is not worth the trouble. Those suckers who get married or continually attempt to find the perfect soulmate are kidding themselves and signing up for a life of disappointments. Like a born-again zealot (or, perhaps, someone who feels a bit on the defensive), it’s not enough for Brown to build prostitution up, he must also tear romance down.

To that end, the final third of the book is taken up by a lengthy series of appendixes and notes wherein he expounds at length on why prostitution should be treated like any other business and even goes so far as to imagine a Utopian future where people see no need to get married or be boyfriend-girlfriend, when they can simply slake their sexual needs via an economic exchange, which would no longer regarded as taboo or shameful, thus perhaps reducing the need for prostitutes altogether.

Obviously these grandiose statements can be tough to swallow, and I can easily imagine a number of readers having loud, visceral reactions to the book (I almost threw it across the room when Brown suggested there was no such thing as drug or alcohol addiction). Brown’s at his best when he makes the case for decriminalizing prostitution (not to be confused with legalization, which would require regulation, which in turn would break his libertarian heart) . His arguments – for example, that more prostitutes would be willing to press charges if harassed or abused — are sound and his personal experiences suggest that paying for sex is rarely the tawdry, depressing affair we tend to associate it with. If you are a socially awkward, intensely shy man who finds the pursuit of true love to be an excruciating, hopeless affair, then I can see where paying for sex might appear like a healthy, viable alternative.

He’s on less solid ground, though, when he discusses issues like why women enter into prostitution, sexual slavery and the afore-mentioned Utopian ideals. Suffice it to say that I find his “I didn’t see it, therefore it can’t be that big a problem” attitude more than a bit naive to put it mildly. Encounters like one involving a rather young, foreign girl who seems to be in pain through much of their coupling add a bit of tension and raise unsettling questions, but Brown doesn’t delve into them deeply enough.

Brown adopts a rigid eight-panel grid structure for he book that he never veers from. As small as his panels are, his figures are drawn even smaller, dwarfed by the minimalist, urban environment. This is  particularly during the sex scenes, where they seem to almost be floating in an inky blackness, and threatened to be swallowed up by it at any moment.

Out of consideration for the women, Brown doesn’t provide any background detail on the prostitutes he visits, although he does note that he spent a lot of time talking to them and learned much about their lives. He also says he dallied with a variety of ethnic types and hair styles, but — for fear perhaps that they may be recognized by family or friends — their faces are all obscured, and all are portrayed as white-skinned brunettes, (though it’s worth noting he does take care to denote individual body types, especially in regards to breast size). That doesn’t derail the book too badly but there is a palpable sense of something missing, an experience or emotional hole that needs to be filled. I can well understand and respect Brown’s desire to show as much consideration to these women as possible, but not having more female perspective in the book, particularly in a book about such a taboo and divisive subject, hurts the book both aesthetically and in terms of his larger points.

Despite my criticisms, Paying for It remains a compelling, even occasionally hilarious book. It’s a difficult work in some respects in that while there is material here that will encourage serious, healthy debate, there is also material here that will encourage anger and derision. I just hope the latter doesn’t override the former.

Wolverine Noir #1

Welcome to another edition of What Are You Reading, our weekly look at whatever books, comics or cereal boxes we happen to be reading at the moment. JK Parkin is on vacation for the next week, so I’ll be your host until he gets back.

Our guest this week is Vancouver artist Jason Copland, who has contributed to the Perhapanauts series and currently draws the online comic Kill All Monsters (which is written, of course, by our own Michael May)

To see what Jason and the rest of the crew are reading, click below.

Scenes from an Impending Marriage

Chris Mautner: Adrian Tomine’s Scenes From an Impending Marriage is a trifle, but it’s an utterly charming trifle. If you don’t know, this was originally a mini-comic Tomine did as a party favor for the guests at his wedding, now released in a somewhat expanded version with a thick hardcover coating. The comic follows Tomine and his fiance as they attempt to figure out who to invite, make invitations, try to find a decent dj,and all the other ridiculous stuff that’s involved in planning a wedding. There’s nothing here that won’t be unfamiliar to anyone who’s gotten married in the past decade or so, watched a friend deal with the hassle of planning a wedding, or watched Father of the Bride a couple of times won’t recognize. That works both in its favor (anyone who’s gone to register their gifts at a local big box chain will appreciate Tomine’s grumpiness here) and against it (familiarity can breed contempt, or at least bad memories, after all). But Tomine’s story is so light and funny — and grounded via some charity work about what really matters — that it’s hard to begrudge it too much. The AV Club’s review compared it to an established artist putting out an EP after a series of notable albums, and that sounds about right.

Secret Six #31

Tom Bondurant: I really liked this week’s Secret Six #31 (by Gail Simone and J. Calafiore), from its new-reader-friendly introduction to its cliffhanging final page. It picks up a plot thread from this series’ first arc, the “Get Out Of Hell Free” card, and examines how the dysfunctional team would use that card — but because this is Secret Six, it does so by killing one character and hinting pretty strongly that another is next. It took me a while to get used to Calafiore’s work, because it’s such a different style from Nicola Scott’s, and I haven’t disliked it by any means — but this issue really showed me his range, from character moments to fight scenes to outright horror. The issue was so good, it almost made me think Simone and Calafiore are starting some sort of victory lap and the whole thing will end in a double-sized apocalyptic #36. That’s just me being paranoid, though….

It had been so long since issue #5 that I wanted to read all the issues of First Wave before diving into this week’s conclusion (by Brian Azzarello and Rags Morales). Curiosity got the best of me, though, and I liked the issue pretty well. Basically, the issue involves a couple of mad-genius villains with an aquatic city, devising all sorts of things to help them rule the world, etc. Along the way the Blackhawks fight a tsunami, Doc Savage fights a robot, the Spirit fights a giant iguana, and Batman scares one of the villains. Again, if I’d read the first five issues recently, I could have told you more about why any of this mattered. However, in a weird way, it’s enough just to see these things, even out of context. The “First Wave” line had its share of structural problems (and why couldn’t DC have gotten the Shadow involved?), but this miniseries might have been one of its better offerings.

Finally, ever since January’s big bookshelf reorganization, I’ve been able to revisit some of my library’s dustier corners. In the past few weeks I’ve read the JLA: Age Of Wonder miniseries (your favorite characters in the Gilded Age) and the first couple of Batman Adventures animated-series comics. However, in the on-deck circle is the first Gen13 paperback, something I had just about forgotten I owned, but so full of ’90s goodness it is practically daring me to read it.

Annihilators #1

Carla Hoffman: I read a lot of stuff this week, including Annihilators #1 which is as awesome as water is wet and Avengers Academy #10 which continues to be hands-down the best Avengers book sold in this reality, but let’s talk about the two issues I read thanks to obscurity.  Ever pick something up because of a stray conversation or involuntary recollection?  This week, I read Midnighter #6 and #7 for no good reason.  I can’t tell you what made me hanker for the Authority spin off, nor could I tell you what made me dive for two of the four single issue stories that were part of the 20 issue run.  Something in my brain demanded I hunt these issues down and specifically read the these two out of something someone said or a conversation with a customer or who knows what.  It’s like when cookies sound like a really good idea after dinner and watching a guy in black leather kick people in the head was my cookie this week.  The cookie was delicious.

For those of you who are curious, Midnighter #6 is a samurai’s tale.  Garth Ennis and Glen Fabry reimagined the Midnighter and Apollo for feudal Japan and oh man, it’s good.  Absolutely lyrical on Ennis’s part and the art has tons of emotion poured into each expression or ‘rose’ the Japanese Midnighter leaves on a bone-littered grave.  The concept is quick and stunning, full of dramatic tragedy and honesty to the concept of the main characters.  Yeah, the Midnighter and Apollo aren’t from feudal Japan and they really have no reason to be, but the story is so brilliant that it will haunt you for the rest of the day.

Midnighter #7 is a trip and a half; Brian K. Vaughan and Darrick Robertson craft a story from end to beginning.  Seriously, the book is presented backwards from the best outcome to the inception of this particular battle.  Clever, because this is the Midnighter’s schtick (that the computer in his brain predicts the outcome of his fights before they even start) and outrageous because this is a story about a man who can hit someone with a staff so that his opponent’s face explodes.  Questions are tossed at your right and left as you try and figure out just how the Midnighter got to this point and then, BAM!  Next page answer and a whole new situation that leaves you guessing.  I suppose it reads the same backwards and forwards, but the backwards is the best part.  Did I mention that a guy gets hit and his face explodes?  ’Cause that totally happens and Robertson really lets you enjoy it with this detailed and dark arts.

I could not tell you why I picked these up this particular week, but I am so glad I did.

Avengers Academy #10

Tim O’Shea: If you’re Marcos Martin, you have to wish they would have released Amazing Spider-Man 655 on any other week than when Fantastic Four 588 also is released (as happened last week). Sure the silent tale after the death of Johnny Storm is an amazing visual read by artist Nick Dragotta, don’t get me wrong. But Martin’s layout alone–and the way he frames and isolates characters in certain scenes may be one of the best comics I’ve ever had the pleasure to read in years. It deserves all the praise I can heap on it and more.

Thunderbolts 154: Jeff Parker makes me interested in a Man-Thing story for the first time ever.

Avengers Academy 10: Hazmat finds a way to go outside without her suit and sans her power. I was surprised that Christos Gage explored this character possibility this early in the series, but when you see the payoff to the scenario, it makes perfect sense and allows Gage to naturally advance the development of Jennifer/Hazmat’s character. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen the work of artist Sean Chen, but his style is a good fit for the series.

Jeff Lemire brings his A-game on two titles this week. First he teams with Emi Lenox, Matt Kindt and Nate Powell on Sweet Tooth 19, to tell three stories in one issue. Hell, the cover alone, which sports Lemire’s incredible approach to design in a manner that allows all four artists (along with Jose Villarrubia) to contribute. Not to be too greedy, but I hope Kindt gets another chance to collaborate with Lemire on the series (and that’s not to slight Lenox and Powell). Be sure to flip to the end, where Lemire interviews the other three artists. The amount of quality content I received for my $2.99 eased the hit my wallet took when I spent $4.99 on the Giant-Size Atom one-shot by Lemire. This one-shot allows Lemire to finish the Atom co-feature that previously began in Adventure Comics. Lemire clearly has a lot more ideas of stories to explore with Atom, and I hope the sales on the one-shot allow DC to consider an Atom miniseries by Lemire down the road.

I love it when I can find used copies of Marvel’s Essentials collection. Even though I own many of the original 1970s Marvel Team-Ups, there’s something enjoyable about seeing this much early John Byrne collected in one spot as there is in volume 3 (which covers issues 52 to 75). Byrne was still learning how to do effective and unique layouts in this stage of his career. There are scenes where he tries to show Spidey web-swinging and it looks anatomically as if Peter Parker has a broken back. It’s also fascinating to see the impact of different inkers on Byrne’s art, including Frank Giacoia, Mike Esposito, Dave Hunt (who handles a majority of Bryne’s run), Bob Wiacek, Ricardo Villamonte and Tony DeZuniga.

Bourbon Island

Michael May: I finished a couple of pirate comics this week. The Boy and I read Stone Arch’s The Seven Voyages of Sinbad by Martin Powell and Ferran. Powell does an exceptional job of condensing all seven voyages into 64 pages, keeping only the best, most exciting stuff, and Ferran kills on the art. There are discussion questions in the back, one of which is, “Which panel of art was your favorite?” We had a tough time deciding that, but a lot of fun revisiting the book and looking at every page to help us make up our mind. The monster designs are awesome and there’s a ton of energy in the action sequences.

For myself, I read Apollo and Lewis Trondheim’s Bourbon Island 1730, a sad story about the end of piracy. “Sad” because it’s told mostly through the romanticized viewpoint of a scientist’s assistant who would much rather be a pirate. But as he learns when he arrives on Bourbon Island, all the pirates are either becoming plantation owners or hangman’s victims. Though the characters are all anthropomorphic animals, there’s a lot of humanity in the story as the young assistant struggles to reconcile the way he wants to see the pirates with the reality that everyone else has accepted. As someone who also prefers the romantic version to reality, I can relate. Fortunately, even though many of the events in the book are brutally violent, Bourbon Island bridges romance and reality in a sensitive, gentle, bittersweet way.

Afrodisiac, by Jim Rugg

Jason Copland: I’d like to preface my write-up by disclosing a few major factors that sway my comic book purchasing decisions. Firstly, being a drawer of comic book stuffs, I tend to base a large amount of my comic book buying solely on who drew it. For certain artists, I’ll buy any book that has their name on it. Books from people like Ashley Wood, Guy Davis, Paul Pope, Chris Samnee and Eric Canete are guaranteed purchases. The other factor influencing my buying is that I tend to stay away from the Big 2’s books, generally. No knock against superhero books, I just tend to be more interested in other genres and styles (of course, that’s not to say that I don’t buy any Big 2 books. Guys like Canete and Samnee do their fair share of Big 2 stuff, after all).

Alrighty, with that out of the way, here’s what I’ve read lately…

Afrodisiac by Jim Rugg and Brian Maruca (Ad House Books) Now this is fun! From the ’70s homage art to the snappy dialogue to the excellent production design, this book really entertains. I do kind of cringe at the tongue in cheek sexist/racist overtones but I tend to be overly sensitive to such things.

Florescent Black by MF Wilson, Nathan Fox and Jeremy Cox (Heavy Metal): This was my first encounter with Nathan Fox’s work. It won’t be the last, either. Wow, can this guy draw! And Cox’s colours make the line work explode off the page. It’s a mindbender of a book. Loved it!

Rodd Racer by Toby Cypress (Punkrock Jazz Publishing): I’m a huge fan of Toby’s work, and I’ve been waiting patiently since 2007 for Rodd Racer to drop. This was a labour of love so it’s no surprise that this book contains some of his finest art to date. Toby can weave a great little tale, too. The story moves at a fast pace, which is fitting considering the book is filled with street-racing action. This was a limited NYCC edition  that has sold out, but luckily for everyone who missed out, Toby has mentioned that Rodd will be getting a brand new printing later in 2011!

Wolverine Noir by Stuart Moore and CP Smith (Marvel): This was a fun re-imagining of the Wolverine mythos. The story is set in a hardboiled crime world in which Moore puts the non-mutant Wolverine through his fair share of beat-downs and losses. I’m a big fan of CP Smith’s work and he definitely hits the mark with his rough and gritty artwork. Smith’s ability to convey textures and set the visual tone throughout the book is top notch.

George Sprott 1894-1975

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 going to take a look at the bibliography of the Canadian cartoonist called Gregory Gallant, better known to you and me as simply Seth.

Why he’s important

Wimbledon Green

Along with such cartoonists as Chris Ware and Chester Brown, and Joe Matt, Seth was one of the seminal cartoonists of the 1990s, building on the work started by 80s-era artists like the Hernandez brothers and Daniel Clowes, and helping to bring attention to the medium by telling literate, emotionally complex stores that resonated with a variety of adult audiences. The cultural success that comics eventually received over the past 10 years is due in large part to the hard work that Seth and his contemporaries put into the art form.

Because he works in a style that so deliberately harkens back to the classic gag cartoonists of the early 20th century, and because his stories are frequently set in the past, some critics have made the assumption that his work is all surface nostalgia, a simplistic longing for a idyllic past that never really existed. It’s not. If anything, a closer reading of Seth’s work reveals that he is deeply suspicious of that sort of bygone wistfulness. More to the point, his work instead reflects a concern with the passage of time and mortality, and how our lives and memories can often quickly be swept aside by successive generations. More than just a valentine to the early 20th century, Seth uses that period to ask questions about how culture and the times influence and shape us, and vice-versa.

Where to start

Of all of his books, I think Wimbledon Green makes perhaps the best entry point, as it is easily Seth’s most lighthearted and whimsical work to date. What’s more, in many ways it marks a demarcation part for the artist towards a looser, more organic style.

Though a lark, the book, which tells the story of a mysterious, legendary comic book collecter who lives in a world where such characters can afford to have manservants and gyrocopters in their pursuit of that elusive issue of Green Ghost #1, carries a strong, melancholy undercurrent that keeps it from becoming too much of a trifle, and ruminates on a number of the afore-mentioned themes that resonate throughout the author’s oeuvre.

From there you should read

It's A Good Life If You Don't Weaken

Continuing on the ground laid by Wimbledon Green, George Sprott offers a portrait of an elderly TV personality in a small Canadian city, as viewed from the perspective of various people who knew him at different times in his life. I reviewed the book for Robot 6 back in 2009 so I won’t repeat myself too much here except to say that it remains Seth’s strongest work to date.

Seth came to national attention (or whatever the alt-comix equivalent of that may be) in 1996 with the publication of his first graphic novel It’s A Good Life If You Don’t Weaken, a seemingly autobiographical (but really completely fictional) account of the author’s attempts to learn about an obscure New Yorker cartoonist. The good news is time hasn’t dimmed this book’s quality much. It remains a rich, evocative work and the next, logical step for those who want to continue to reading more of his comics.

Further reading

Since 1997, Seth has been working on Clyde Fans, the story of two brothers with diametrically opposite personalities — one outgoing and abrasive, the other meek and overly sensitive. Though still unfinished, the first half of the saga has been collected as Clyde Fans, Book One, and while it certainly remains an affecting work so far, you may be forgiven for thinking that you’d like to wait until the series is finished and collected under one cover.

For about a decade, Seth collected various stories his father told him during his childhood about growing up in rural Canada during the Great Depression and collected, lettered and illustrated them in Bannock, Beans and Black Tea. Occasionally harrowing, sometimes heartbreaking, these stories portray a real, true, bitter poverty that hopefully few of us will ever know. While more straight prose than comics, it remains a haunting book, and should not be ignored simply because it is not sequential art.

Ancillary material

Those who have developed a special appreciation for Seth’s unique art style should definitely check out Vernacular Drawings, a lovely coffee-table sized culling of the author’s various sketchbooks.

Both Clyde Fans and It’s a Good Life were initially (and in the case of Fans, continue to be) serialized in Seth’s ongoing series, Palookaville. Never collected in a book, the first three issues are worth tracking down, especially since they show the artist trying his hand at (one assumes) autobiography. The first issue recounts a time where he was assaulted (and apparently had long white hair) while issues 2-3 reveals of how he lost his virginity to an older woman.

If you want to track down even earlier work, I recommend searching the back issue bins for early issues of the first edition Drawn and Quarterly Anthology (i.e., the thin, magazine format) where you’ll find him attempting a number of short, one and tw0-page fictional stories. If you want to see him trying his hand at a more mainstream type of comic, check out the Mister X Archives, where he does the art chores for a few Dean Motter stories.

Seth’s illustration work abounds, and can be found decorating a number of books, advertisements, CD packaging (Aimee Mann’s Lost in Space being a notable example) and DVD covers. He’s also had a second career of sorts as a book designer, most notably on the John Stanley Library and The Complete Peanuts series. Some critics have complained that Seth’s style is so overpowering that it tends to overshadow the work of the artist that’s supposedly the focus of the book. It’s a valid criticism as far as it goes, but I tend to feel that it’s something that only rarely occurs and that on average his art does a more effective job of celebrating the artist in question rather than shouting them down.

Bannock, Beans and Black Tea

Seth has always been something of an armchair historian and critic as well, as his attempts to bring artists like Doug Wright back into the spotlight show. It’s a role perhaps best examplified by the little chapbook, Forty Cartoon Books of Interest, which was bundled along with issue no. 8 of Comic Art magazine. It’s a charming little tour through some of the author’s most treasured books, most of which you’ve probably never heard of before. You can still find new copies of that issue of Comic Art — chapbook included —  on the Internet.

Finally, while he’s been interviewed a number of times, the best is probably the one he did with Gary Groth in The Comics Journal #193 (but good luck finding a copy).

Avoid

Last year saw Seth become yet one more alt-cartoonist to abandon the traditional pamphlet format with the release of Palookaville Vol. 20.  Designed as an annual as a small book, not unlike recent volumes of Chris Ware’s Acme Novelty Library, the new format ostensibly gives Seth the opportunity to include different types of stories, art and writing and take more chances (in addition to continuing Clyde Fans).

Unfortunately, vol. 20 comes up a little short — the new chapter of Clyde Fans feels a bit to in media res even for those who’ve been following it all these years, and the concluding story, about a trip to Calgary, is the sort of self-loathing, solipsistic, navel-gazing nonsense that indie comics routinely and unfairly get flagged down for. It’s certainly not a book to be avoided per se, and I’m have the utmost confidence that future volumes will show him knocking it out of the park once again, but this is definitely not the best place for newcomers to start their journey.

Next month: Frank Miller

Mid-Life

Unless you follow the small-press or Canadian cartooning scenes very closely, there’s a good chance you haven’t heard of Joe Ollmann before now. He’s been somewhat on the peripheries of the industry for a few years, though he’s won acclaim for short story collections like This Will All End in Tears. I suspect his star will rise considerably however, with this week’s release of his excellent  Mid-Life, Ollman’s first graphic novel, courtesy of Drawn & Quarterly.

The book follows John, an all-too self-aware middle aged dad (and fictional stand-in for Ollmann himself), who, while working on his second marriage and raising a toddler son, finds himself growing ever so slightly obsessed with Sherri Smalls, the children’s entertainer his young child currently enjoys watching and listening to. The book then switches perspectives between John, as his obsession grows and he attempts to find an excuse to head to New York and “interview” the object of his infatuation, and Smalls herself as she mulls over signing a lucrative TV contract and wonders why she’s been so unlucky in love up till now.

Hilarious in that way that only good, sharply observed, cringe-inducing comedy can, Mid-Life suggests that Ollmann has a long and laudable career ahead of him. I talked to him over email about the book, the trick of blending autobiography into fictional material and the perils of parenting. Despite my barrage of personal and potentially embarrassing questions, he remained polite and thoughtful throughout, for which I am tremendously grateful.

First of all, can you give me a bit of background about yourself? I have to confess I don’t know much about you beyond what the Inkstuds interview you did with Robin McConnell a few years ago. How did you get started in comics?

Sure. I’ve had a weird career, people have never heard of me, though I’ve been making comics for thirty-odd years, my first book, Chewing on Tinfoil, only came out in 2001. I had ten years of newspaper strips before that and various self-publishing projects, some of which were collected in The Big Book of Wag from Conundrum Press. But as far as proper comics or graphic novels, or whatever, I’m a late starter. I assume people see I’ve got some chops, but wonder where the hell I came from.

What got you interested in making comics? Did you always want to be a cartoonist? And, at the risk of sounding like an insensitive dolt, why do you think it’s taken so long for you to achieve wider recognition?

I’ve drawn comics all my life. I self-published three issues of weird, kind of super-hero comic in the black and white glut of the eighties, called Dirty Nails Comics. The shipping and brokerage fees nearly killed me with that one. I also have been periodically doing a little square-bound book called Wag! since 1989. I had a weekly strip in The Hamilton Spectator for five years and then did a monthly strip in Exclaim! for another five years. So, while I’ve always been working, it’s been pretty low-profile stuff. It wasn’t until the first book, Chewing on Tinfoil, with Insomniac, came out in 2001, that anyone ever heard of me. And there is always the question, why haven’t we heard of you before. It’s mostly just a lot of bad “career” choices I guess. I wish I had been doing books all of that time, I would have a much more sizable backlist. People would say; look at the size of that guy’s backlist!

What served as the inspiration for Mid-Life? I’m assuming (or at least hoping) that the work is largely fictional, even though the main character is drawn upon yourself. How much of the book, if any, was drawn from your actual life?

It’s half and half autobiography and fiction. I swore I wasn’t going to talk about what was what, but I realize now I have no reason not to and it’s the first question I get asked. Most of the elements, the two adult daughters from the first marriage, having another kid at forty with the second wife and being traumatized by that are all the real deal. The affair with the children’s performer, and the children’s performer herself are just fiction. That I’m still informed by my catholic upbringing is evidenced that my character isn’t even allowed to score in fiction.

How are your family and friends reacting to it? Does anyone object to the way they’re being portrayed?

I sent the script to my daughters and my wife before I started drawing. They were mostly fine I think. I’m the one coming off like a giant, half-naked, bloated, guilt-ridden clown in the thing, so I’m hoping they are mostly okay with it. Sam can’t read so I didn’t even bother to change his name. He’ll probably be the one who sues me.

It begs the question, though, if the book is inspired by your life but not drawn directly from it, why not take it completely into the realm of fiction? Why not disguise the main character more, so that readers don’t start assuming it’s 100 percent true and imagine that you’ve had an affair with Laurie Berkner (or whomever)?

I can’t say for sure why I didn’t make it straight fiction. I guess, part of it is pretty straight memoir and it would have seemed strange presenting long chunks of my life as fiction. I guess there’s the fact that I generally draw a character who looks like me in almost all the stories I do which has caused confusion in the past as to what is fiction and what is not. The story Oh Deer, from This Will All End in Tears, about the office worker who shoots a deer and can’t bring himself to butcher it is always assumed to be about me. I’ve been a vegetarian for like twenty years and people assume this horror story is the origin of that. But it was just a story I made up. I’ve never gone hunting and I never killed a deer, but I love the fact that people think I lived that. I guess it’s a strange mix in the end when you add the entirely fictional story of the children’s performer. I kind of like that messing around with, blurring the truth and fiction. Being John Malkovich was the first movie I can remember where a real character was playing themselves but in a fictionalized role, I guess it was also done on The Larry Sanders’ Show as well. It’s kind of wonderfully disconcerting. Ultimately, I’m not a well-known person, so it doesn’t much matter if people think it’s fiction or reality or what is actually real and what is made up. Laurie Berkner would never have an affair with me, but
she is an awesome children’s performer.

Is this your longest work to date? If so, did working on a longer project like this offer any unique challenges you didn’t expect?

Mid-life is twice as long as any previous story I’ve ever done. I guess there’s the obvious challenge of working on the same single project for so long lacks the satisfaction of doing an anthology of stories and crossing off the stories as you complete them and starting a new story all bushy-tailed and etc.

Then there’s the security of sending a group of stories out. If the reader hates one of them, you’re okay, they’re probably gonna like one of the others at least. In the case of a single story, if they don’t like it you are pretty screwed. So, that was nerve-wracking, asking yourself, is this a good enough story to put out there as a full-length book?

What were your biggest influences as far as putting Mid-Life together goes? What did (or didn’t) you read before starting work on it?

No direct conscious influences that I can think of. You know, the usual unconscious influences I suppose. Probably more influenced by the straight, written fiction I tend to read, I guess, T.C. Boyle, Peter Carey and Paul Auster
all come to mind (I admire them, I’m not saying I emulate or am influenced by these great writers, I just enjoy their work and wish I could do work of that calibre). In the last few years, writing-wise in comics I really admired Fun Home, George Sprott, and Wilson. That Seeing Eye Dogs of Mars issue of Chris Ware’s Acme made me sit up and stop taking Ware for granted, that was just an outstanding work in an already incredible run.

Mid-Life is very much a character-based comedy, by which I mean the focus is more on the individual characters than the plot machinations. How much time do you spend developing your characters beforehand? Do you do a lot of preliminary work figuring out what makes them tick or do you just start putting them on the page in the hopes they’ll surprise you?

Well, the real characters, are obviously based in part on my family, so I know them and getting them down is easy, but of course they are revised to make the story work better. The fictional characters, especially the children’s performer, Sherri, I spent a lot of time envisioning her back story and I also looked at my female friends around that same age and seeing where they are in their lives. I think maybe, younger women readers would strongly criticize my portrayal of Sherri as desperate for a relationship and obsessing about having a baby, etc., but I would counter that they’re not at the age of that character. And, you know, this is dangerous territory and I don’t necessarily want to piss people off, and I would agree that is not the norm for every woman at that age, but she’s just one character and I have seen those kind of obsessions with female friends at that age. Shit, I’ve had obsessions like those myself after my first marriage broke up. I was thinking every woman I met might be “the one” for me. So, as these characterizations come from experience a bit, they rarely “surprise” me as I’m not a mature enough writer to have characters to go off do things that I wouldn’t want them to do.

In the notes at the end of the book you note that Ian Brown’s article about caring for his disabled son affected you in putting together the book. How?

Well, in writing the book, which occurred long after my son was born, he was much older and therefore much easier to handle which took a lot of pressure off our relationship as well. So, I’m writing this story with me sniveling about my life, while I have three perfectly healthy wonderful kids that I love and I’m feeling like maybe the title should be Bourgeois Nightmare or something instead and then I read Ian Brown’s article about life with his disabled son. Just unflinchingly honest and unsentimental and this guy had real things to complain about. It really made me change my way of thinking in my life in a giant way. It made me realize it’s necessary to actually be consciously grateful for things in life and that that simple shift can actually improve your outlook and I mean, that’s basically the character John’s revelation in Mid-life. It’s not some giant revelation, but it makes a big difference.

You stick to a straight nine-panel grid for pretty much the whole book. Why and what did that structure give you and the book?

I pretty much exclusively use the nine-panel grid. I’m a pretty traditional, non-experimental storyteller so the format makes sense. I always say that I see the panel as a TV or movie screen. I wouldn’t change the shape or size of the TV or movie screen for an effect, so it never occurs to me to do that in a comic. I like when other people do it, but it doesn’t work for me. What I hope is that the uniformity of the frame is so ubiquitous that the reader eventually forgets it and just concentrates fully on the narrative.

Was making Mid-Life in any way cathartic for you? I ask because, while it’s obvious large swaths of the book are fictional, there are aspects — John talking about his first divorce, his awkward-at-times relationship with his daughters — that seem to cut close to the bone, to the point where I started wondering if you were trying to work through some painful memories. Not that you saw the book as an opportunity for self-analysis, but were there personal issues that, for whatever reasons, you found yourself addressing in the comic, intentionally or otherwise?

A bit cathartic in the confessional sense, but not really, the real issues in the book, the family stuff, had been pretty much worked through and resolved and was, years ago under the bridge stuff. Again, some of this stuff is semi-fictional, exaggerated at times, etc. My daughters and I have a pretty close relationship and we’ve talked pretty openly about a lot of this stuff. Also, I sent the script before I started drawing. But analyzing past events and behaviours and physically writing it out in words is always a good exercise.

One of the things I like best about the book is the way you portray parenthood as rewarding but also absolutely draining and incredibly frustrating. As a father of two I could completely identify with John’s anger and irritation with his children. Did you find it at all tricky to portray that accurately and yet still keep your lead a sympathetic character (not to mention his passive-aggressive attempts at having an affair and all)?

Yeah, well, having kids is hard work but it’s ultimately this amazing experience, so complaining about it is a pretty shitty, but entirely natural thing to do. But in a book, it could very easily just be a boring list of bourgeoisie whining; ooh, my kid keeps shitting their diaper, etc. which would be a drag to read I think. I think the only way to pull off this stuff is with humor, hyperbole and the self-referencial aspect of the narrator himself commenting on how he shouldn’t be complaining about his tiny problems, that he’s lucky and there are people out there with real problems. It’s kind of the crux of the whole book, really.

Why do you think John pursues Sherri the way he does? What do you think is driving his dissatisfaction? Bad job? Mortality? Self-loathing? All of the above?

Well, I think having kids can be a gigantic strain on a relationship for the first few years, and he’s at that stage, his formerly perfect relationship is very strained, so that’s one reason. And it coincides with him turning forty which is a traumatic time where a person starts to feel entirely invisible to the opposite sex, so they’re particularly receptive to any attention they do receive. I mean, just the usual, bullshit reasons why middle-aged dudes go out and pursues illicit affairs I guess.

What are you working on now? Do you have a follow-up project to Mid-Life in mind yet?

I’ve got the next three or for projects lined up. Another book of long short stories, called Sore Spots is written and storyboarded, ready to start drawing. They are really long stories and may actually be individual books instead of a collection. Then there’s the biography of the alcoholic, bondage -enthusiast, cannibal writer from the 40′s, William Seabrook. That’s been years of research and the script is nearly finished, so that is also coming up. It should be a massive book when it’s done. I’m also supposed to be doing a book called Milo and Sam with my old pal, Andy Brown of Conundrum Press. It’s a collection of short strips that form larger narratives based on us and our two sons. It’s half heart-felt outpourings of fatherly love and worries punctuated with malapropisms of little kids saying “cock” instead of clock. Kind of a post-mod Family Circus?

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 looking at the career of a Golden Age artist who’s undergone a bit of a rediscovery and renaissance lately, John Stanley.

Why he’s important

Besides being a masterful storyteller, John Stanley is an important reminder that the history of the American comics industry, particularly its Golden Age, is made up of more than superheroes and EC horror titles. There was a diverse amount of material being published that aimed to appeal to a variety of interests and ages (relatively speaking). Most of it, of course, was dreck, but in Stanley’s case craftsmanship and an eagerness to entertain won out. Though he usually dealt with licensed, G-rated material, Stanley refused to hack anything out. His stories are always tightly constructed affairs, filled with memorable characters and a dry, almost macabre, wit that keeps the material from becoming too saccharine.

Perhaps the most impressive thing about Stanley is how little his work has aged. It remains as witty, imaginative and fall on the floor funny as it must have seemed to young readers back in the 1950s and ’60s. Stanley’s comics are that rare beast that can be appreciated by both adults and children — our house is frequently filled with discussions of our favorite Lulu stories for example. Bottom line: he’s just plain fun to read.

Where to start

Giant Sized Little Lulu Vol. 1

Even though he didn’t create the character, Stanley is best associated with Little Lulu. As good as Marjorie Henderson Buell’s original cartoons are (and they are very good), Stanley took the character into the realm of the greatness, adding his own unique cast and spinning seemingly endless inspired variations on only a few basic themes (Lulu gets revenge on Tubby and the mean neighborhood boys, Tubby plays detective, Lulu tells little kid Alvin a story). Dark Horse has done an excellent job of reprinting these seminal stories and have 25 volumes in print as of this writing. That can seem like a frightening amount of reading to even the eager reader, so I would recommend neophytes start with the Little Lulu Color Special. While it’s not exactly a “greatest hits” collection, it does have a number of great stories including “Pieces of Eight,” “The Fuzzythingus Poopi,” and “The Case of the Mysterious Nose,” and is a good enough sampler to give you an idea of what lies ahead.

From there you should read

The rest of Dark Horse’s Little Lulu series is the obvious next step. I’d recommend reading them in order. The first couple of volumes have fallen out of print, but Dark Horse has made up for that by bundling them together and re-releasing them as “Giant-Sized” editions.

If you find your Lulu love increasing with each volume, you may want to also check out the Tubby comics, as the character proved popular enough to merit his own spin-off comic. You have a choice in this particular regard, as both Dark Horse and Drawn & Quarterly have been repackaging these old comics. The D&Q volume is the more handsomely produced and the art looks a bit cleaner, but the Dark Horse version is cheaper, the colors are a bit brighter (or, depending on your point of view, more garish) and the first volume includes stories that aren’t in the D&Q collection. It’s really a matter of preference.

Further reading

Thirteen Going On Eighteen

In the 1960s, Stanley produced a number of original creations for Dell, many of which Drawn & Quarterly is in the process of reprinting. The best of these is easily Thirteen Going on Eighteen (one volume out so far) a great slapstick teen romp that manages to outdo Archie both in terms of characterization and humor. The series is also notable as it’s one of the few of Stanley’s comics that features his original art, as he usually only did layouts, with folks like Lulu artist Irving Tripp providing the final drawings.

Stanley’s other great work from this period would be Melvin Monster (two volumes out with a third soon on the way) a hilarious little take (perhaps even parody) of the monster craze going on at the time, which stars a beleaguered little boy monster who only wishes to do good. Much of the humor comes from the characters behaving in the exact opposite fashion of traditional social norms (the schoolteacher doesn’t want kids in her class, etc.) which manages to give a bit of poignancy and edge to the comic, at least in regards to the amount of neglect and abuse poor Melvin routinely suffers through.

In addition to Lulu, Stanley wrote a number of licensed comics, including one based off of Ernie Brushmiller’s classic strip, Nancy (two volumes out so far). Faced with the choice of how to translate Brushmiller’s minimalist gag work to comic book sized epics, Stanley decided to turn it into a slightly modified version of Lulu’s world. Nancy becomes a less agressive Lulu, Sluggo is a more slovenly verison of Tubby, and so forth. The stories are entertaining enough, but only reach true inspiration whenever Nancy’s playmate Oona Goosepimple shows up. Whenever Nancy visits this very strange girl who lives in a haunted house that even Charles Addams would find daunting, the stories take a surreal turn that show Stanley at his most inventive.

Ancillary material

Nancy Vol. 2

Hopefully D&Q plans to reprint some of Stanley’s other ’60s work, including Kookie and Dunc & Lou, in the near future, but in the meantime, you can read samples of those stories, and lots more via the internet, particularly the great Stanley Stories blog. The site offers a good deal of thoughtful appreciation of Stanley’s work and methods, and frequently posts stories he did based on other licenses, like Tom and Jerry, Woody Woodpecker and even Howdy Doody.

While he is known mostly for humor, Stanley did try his hand at a few horror stories, two of which are collected in Art in Time, Dan Nadel’s anthology of interesting, forgotten or just plain odd comics work. What makes these stories worth checking out is how Stanley avoids the typical shocks and gore of the day in favor of slowly building suspense and tension, particularly in the masterful “Crazy Quilt.”

Avoid

This is one of those rare instances in Comics College history where I honestly can’t think of a single work of Stanley’s that isn’t worth reading. While no doubt Stanley has his nadirs, none of them exist in print at the moment. Even at his most mediocre, Stanley is still leagues above just about every single one of his contemporaries.

Next month: Seth

Do you like comics with gorgeous colors, hot sex scenes, and all-too-relatable scenes in which twenty-something urbanites go to crazy nightclubs and lousy parties? Then Belgian cartoonist Brecht Evens’ The Wrong Place may be right book for you. The Drawn & Quarterly release took a lot of readers and critics by storm at the tail end of 2010 with both its incisive writing and innovative use of color as a storytelling mechanism. (You can read my interview with Evens about the book by clicking this link.)

In just a couple months, Evens will be back with a book about a very different kind of night life. Slated for a March release from Top Shelf, Night Animals — an earlier work than The Wrong Place — was described to me by Evens as a walk on the Where the Wild Things Are side. It contains two wordless tales about seemingly normal people who get caught up in a world of wild wonder (and, perhaps, danger) among the creatures beyond the city limits. While the drawing style is more traditional than The Wrong Place‘s all-watercolors approach, it’s just as lush and inviting, and the color washes are just as vibrant and emotionally freighted. Meanwhile, the stories themselves show that Evens is just as adept at fairy tales and fables as he is at lousy parties and awesome one-night stands. Good stuff.

And courtesy of Leigh Walton and the fine folks at Top Shelf, here’s an eight-page preview of the book. Unleash the animal within, folks!