Imagine being immersed in a long, meandering conversation with someone that speaks their mind openly on any and everything. Further imagine that you look at your watch and discovered you’ve been captivated by this person for several hours, and it’s only been the two of you the whole time. That’s what it’s like to read Hayao Miyazaki’s Starting Point: 1979-1996. It’s one of most delightful, enlightening, and at times surprisingly confessional books I’ve read in a great while.

Starting Point: 1979-1996
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Starting Point is a collection of Miyazaki’s writings and interviews. There is a nice bonus in the center of the book, an eight-page, full-color manga on the history of in-flight dining done for Winds, Japan Airlines’ magazine. This is followed by nine black-and-white pages from Miyazaki’s notebooks. (The last three are untranslated so you can see the quality of Miyazaki’s penmanship.) The foreword is by John Lasseter, one of the founders of Pixar and friend of Miyazaki. The afterword is by Isao Takahata, long-time collaborator of Miyazaki and co-founder of Studio Ghibli.

Over the course of the book, the reader is able to develop a well-rounded picture of Miyazaki, both the man and the animator. In high school, Miyazaki originally wanted to be a gekiga manga artist (49). (Gekiga is a style of realistically drawn manga. The stories are often gritty, dark portrayals of modern life.) However, the Japanese animated movie Hakujaden (The Tale of the White Serpent) literally changed his life.

It made me realize that, behind a facade of cynical pronouncements, in actuality I really was in love with the pure, earnest world of film, even if it were only another cheap melodrama. I was no longer able to deny the fact that there was another me — a me that yearned desperately to affirm the world rather than negate it. (70)

Miyazaki went off to college where, surprisingly, he majored in political economics. While in college he was also part of the Children Literature Study Group (311).

In 1963, he was hired by Toei Animation as an in-between animator (the entry-level job for animation companies). He found the daily grind of television animation becoming unbearable. He was ready to return to his former dream of becoming a manga artist, when a Russian animated film reignited his passion. “Had I not one day seen Snedronnigen (The Snow Queen) during a film screening hosted by the company labor union, I honestly doubt that I would have continued working as an animator.” (71)

In 1978, Miyazaki would make his directorial debut with the television series Future Boy Conan (yet to be released in the US). In 1979, Miyazaki directed his first feature film, Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro. In 1985, Studio Ghibli was founded. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Miyazaki has a great deal of faith in the unlimited potential of animation as a storytelling medium. In this sense he reminds me of Tezuka, who believed that manga had unlimited potential and was an art form on par with novels, short stories, and theater. I find Miyazaki’s passion for cartoons compelling and share his belief that the only limits to cartoons are the imaginations of animators.

In other words, I am talking about doing something with animation that can’t be done with manga magazines, children’s literature, or even live-action films. I’m talking about building a truly unique imaginary world, tossing in characters I like, and then creating a complete drama using them. Simply put, this is what animation is to me. (17)

He has equally high hopes for what his films will accomplish.

To my way of thinking, creating animation means creating a fictional world. That world soothes the spirit of those who are disheartened and exhausted from dealing with the sharp edges of reality, or suffering from a nearsighted distortion of their emotions. When the audience is watching animation, they are apt to feel light and cheerful or purified and refreshed. (25)

But if we can free ourselves from the various complexes we have and the tangled relationships we are in to live a freer, more open world, we might be able to become strong and heroic. I think everyone entertains thoughts of becoming more beautiful, or more gentle, or of having a more meaningful existence. (306)

His high ambitions for animation have made him a harsh critic of much of the animation he sees. “I frankly despise the truncated word ‘anime’ because it only symbolizes the current desolation of our industry.” (72)

But I’d like to see effort put into filmmaking sufficient to withstand the bare-knuckled criticism that I’m providing here. Cartoons have certain weaknesses that we normally don’t notice, and a type of laxity arises precisely because the films are treated as mere cartoons. (118)

His most vehement criticism is leveled at television animation.

“Producing an animation series merely to fill time slots in the broadcast schedule is like generating cultural pollution.” (186)

TV cartoon shows were all just a bunch of slapdash, amateurish, uninspired, derivative creations. We used to say among ourselves that making them was like working with still-open wounds. (279)

Is it any wonder that one he was given the freedom to make animated films, he never returned to television again?

I was also amazed some of the personal confessions that show up in this book. A touching reflection on his relationship with his father and his perceived failings as a parent, “I tried to be a good father, but in the end I wasn’t a very good parent.” (204) His flaws as a first-time director, “The schedule slipped and I caused a lot of trouble for the staff and the production company. This was entirely due to my failing, as I can only work following my intuition and feelings.” (66) Even his personal shortcomings, “I’m a careless sort of person, so I am often quick to say bad things about people.” (211)

My favorite sections of the book are where he discusses Future Boy Conan and each of his films in detail. We learn Miyazaki didn’t intend for the ending of Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind to have the religious overtones that it did. But once the film headed in that direction he couldn’t steer it otherwise. (393) Further, we find out Kiki’s Delivery Service was actually made for young women heading to Tokyo to find their first job and make a place for themselves in this world. (262, 378) Porco Rosso was made, “…for tired, middle-aged men whose brain cells have turned to tofu.” (267) There are so many more interesting facts about the production and themes in each of his major works.

So many great quotes can be pulled from this book. There are tons of fascinating ideas that could fuel extended discussions among its readers. Not to mention, lots of behind-the-scenes glimpses of the reality of making animated TV shows and feature films. There is such a wealth of information, no review can truly hope to touch on everything contained within the pages of this book.

I honestly believe that every anime fan needs to read Miyazaki’s Starting Point: 1979-1996. It’s a chance to see deeply inside the anime industry, as well as an opportunity to intimately know one of anime’s greatest directors. I highly recommend Takahata’s afterward as a loving, but brutally honest, portrayal that only a real friend could write. This is also a must-read for American animation fans. It offers a different perspective on cartoons, and how they should be made, than we generally hear in the US. Simply put, this is too significant a book to let simply pass you by. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Bonus Feature: I showed Johanna what my copy of Starting Point looked like when I was reading it and she thought it would be fun to take a picture of it share with you. So here are my photos. I annotated each photo in an attempt to justify/explain my process.

James Bond Encyclopedia
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Great care was obviously taken with the design and presentation, resulting in a lush feel that goes well with Bond’s world of brands and beauty. It’s a licensed production, so no information here on the 1967 Casino Royale or Never Say Never Again. (Shame, Kim Basinger is one of my favorite Bond girls.) It also plays more within the world of the films, preferring story/world-building continuity over behind-the-scenes information. Plenty of glossy pictures illustrate, with emphasis on Sean Connery (the first) and Daniel Craig (the latest).

After introductory sections on writer Ian Fleming and “The Bond Style” — work history, skills, wardrobe, and food and drink — each of the six actors to play the role get a two-page spread. You won’t find out exactly how the decisions were made to change among them here. I found myself wondering, for example, how Connery was wooed back for one more (Diamonds Are Forever) after George Lazenby took over in 1969, or why they went looking for a Connery replacement in the first place. This isn’t that kind of book; instead, there’s an air of “aren’t they all great?” (Some of my questions were later answered in the last section of the book; see description below.)

The meat of the volume comes next: alphabetically organized sections on Bond villains (covering the characters, not the actors), supporting characters, vehicles, weapons, and of course, the women. The writeups are primarily plot descriptions, briefly summarizing the item’s appearance and what happens. Since I didn’t remember much of the specifics of the movies, I didn’t find these dry recitations very helpful. Especially when it came to the female co-stars, I would have rather known about the actresses, their careers before and after.

In the last section, about “The Movies”, each film gets two pages, some of which goes to sidebars covering various crew and production staff members. Missing from the book is a plot summary of each movie — I would have thought that would have fit right in as a kind of mission dossier. Instead, we get information on how the producers decided which one to make next and who wrote the screenplays.

Although this book is lovely, I’m not the audience for it. It would be better suited to someone who’s seen the films multiple times. They would enjoy the memories evoked by the pictures and the working together of various story strands, while I’d like more a behind-the-scenes take on the making of the movies, not the world they inhabit. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

The Art of the Disney Princess
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I didn’t expect The Art of the Disney Princess to be my kind of thing until KC encouraged me to take a closer look. It’s a beautiful collection of re-imaginings of these Disney characters in all kinds of media and portrayals. The imagination and power and wonder of these female archetypes really come through, and the notes by some of the included artists about their choices add insight.

It’s not all sweetness and light, either. Some of the selections are thought-provoking, as the back of Sleeping Beauty’s head, nothing but a swirl of blonde hair; a mecha-dressed Snow White who looks like she’s about to pilot a fighter; or even weirder, a robot version of Ariel with a switch marked “sing”. On another page, manga-inspired, iconically simple versions reduce the girls to bobbleheads distinguished only by hair and dress colors.

The favorites are here, of course — Cinderella, Aurora (Sleeping Beauty), Belle, Ariel. Jasmine and Mulan are shown in pieces that evoke their cultures, while Snow White’s apple is also a popular symbol. Color plays a prominent role, with unexpected brights providing new context. Other pages draw firmly from the past with evocations of classic work or strong design elements. A set of pieces based on Alphonse Maria Mucha were my favorites. In addition to the usual painted work, there’s lots of “digital media” and the occasional photograph or mixed media. Very pretty, very inspiring.

The Disney Treasures
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My favorite purchase was The Disney Treasures, one of those hardcover scrapbooks with replica memorabilia included, like The DC Vault or The Marvel Vault.

Almost every page of this history has some paper reproduction, whether correspondence, sketches, comics, promo material, the original Disneyland souvenir map and tickets, or samples of licensed food product labels. The book covers cartoons, movies, characters, TV, and the parks. A spread on how Disney produced a lot of insignia for military divisions during the war was particularly interesting to me, since I’d never heard about that part of the company history before. The package also includes a CD of audio rarities, such as 50s radio ads and park dedication speeches. It’s obviously a happy, shallow (due to its short length) company history, but it provides a different take on some familiar stories.

While I’m talking about Disney-related books, we found The Unofficial Guide to Walt Disney World a great help in planning the trip. It’s biggest flaw is its thickness; the size makes it unwieldy to carry with you, so read it ahead of time and make notes on the material that interests you. The ride and restaurant recommendations were great in helping us figure out what to spend our time on.

We’d enjoyed reading Mouse Tales and its sequel, which tell employee behind-the-scenes stories of Disneyland, so we were interested in the Realityland followup, which focuses on Walt Disney World. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as good. The first half of the book is all about the fake shell companies that allowed Disney to buy 27,000 Florida acres and the business, construction, and legal struggles in creating WDW.

After that, it gets morose, with stories of deaths and serious injuries at the park, followed by the deals and decisions that went into EPCOT. While some of the startup stories are amusing, there’s too much on executive changes, stock values, local government conflicts, and other dry business topics. A book on the decision-making at Disney after Walt isn’t a bad thing, but it’s not what I thought I was getting. I found the later chapter on the formation of the Studios, in competition with Universal, the most interesting, although it’s very short in comparison with the rest of the book.

Overall, you’re left with the prevalent feeling “it was better then”, even when it comes to comparing the newer parks (like Animal Kingdom) against the original plans. A depressing tome. Much better to stick with the pretty pictures.

Shoujo Art Studio
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In the West, we’ve come to view shoujo as a way of talking about certain styles of manga and anime — those concerned with relationships and character development — but in Japan, it just means aimed at girls. This means there are no limits to what it can depict, or what you can choose to write and draw about.

Unfortunately, the content of the rest of the book doesn’t really support that statement. The book is really selling templates. The included CD contains character line art, page layouts, word balloons, speedlines, tones, backgrounds, and accessories. You use the art, and you can build manga without drawing much yourself. It’s a print version of something like Tokyopop Manga Creator. Again, from the introduction:

We have done most of the hard work for you… It’s as simple as selecting the look you want, assembling the sections of line art you like, and then transplanting your finished creations into one of the provided page layouts.

“Creation” seems a bit optimistic, given how little actual work the “creator” is doing, but maybe that’s how the word has been redefined in today’s cut-and-paste remix world.

The book is well-designed and easy-to-read, with brightly colored page backgrounds and lots of short text paragraphs with headers to help you find information, but the content is slight. The first 67 pages show you how to use the CD files to create digital manga, which is a huge topic for that short space, especially when (for example) two pages is given over to explaining that you need a mouse, the internet, a printer, and maybe a scanner.

The CD files are in PSD (Photoshop) format, so you’ll need some version of that program. You turn various layers on and off to give the characters different expressions or poses and resize them for closeups. There’s no information on writing — creating an interesting story, figuring out character motivations, or the like — only assembling pre-provided elements to build pages. Although there are 16 pages on coloring, including basic color theory.

The second half of the book is a catalog of the images available on the CD. I’m reminded of the 70s toy Fashion Plates, where you could “design high-fashion outfits” by mixing and matching raised templates and then doing charcoal rubbings. It wasn’t particularly creative then, and it’s not any more so now that it uses a computer instead of plastic plates.

After reading this instruction set, I’m also not sure what makes it specifically “shoujo”, unless it’s an emphasis on typical schoolgirl love stories. In contrast to the optimistic opening, all of the examples use that kind of premise and character look.

I’m fascinated by the book design — I don’t know why they made the CD such a prominent part of the cover, but it does reinforce for the customer that it’s included and its importance. Maybe they wanted the reader to be sure to see the line “Read the enclosed License Agreement before using any image on this disc.” Surprisingly, by my reading, the license does allow you to use the provided material for commercial efforts (so long as it’s not pornographic or obscene); you just can’t redistribute the libraries.

(A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals
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Published in Japan in 2001, Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals became a bestseller. Hiroki Azuma reshaped both academic studies of otaku culture and how otaku understood themselves. The book is finally available in English, allowing American fans and scholars access to this highly influential work.

Otaku is the term used for devoted Japanese fans of anime, manga, and video games. The otaku culture in Japan is similar to the comic book fan culture in the U.S. Otaku are not simply consumers but collectors and enthusiasts. They purchase related merchandise items like figures, posters, jewelry, clothing, etc. They publish fan magazines, set up internet sites dedicated to their favorite series, and write fan fiction. In 2007, the otaku market represented approximately 1.7 billion dollars in sales (p. xv).

Let me begin with a minor translation quibble. In this book, Western and Japanese persons are mentioned. For the Japanese names, the translators have preserved the Japanese order of family name first, given name second. This makes for awkward reading, especially when Western and Japanese names appear in the same paragraph or worse, the same sentence. I can’t find any place in the book where the translators make this clear to the reader. Given this is a translated work, it would be wise to stick with Western name order for all persons to avoid any confusion.

Obviously, such a short review can’t explore or convey the complex arguments that Azuma lays out in his book. So I’ll focus on the central theme by looking at what Azuma means by database and animal. Specifically, Azuma shows how the current generation (born 1980 and after) consumer patterns embody the postmodern worldview (pp. 6,7).

Postmodern Fan Culture

The characteristic of postmodernity most important to Azuma is the loss of grand narratives (pp. 26-29). The hallmark of modernity was the belief that the deep structure of reality could be described in one coherent theory/philosophy. Examples of these grand narratives include Christianity, rationality, humanism, or nationalism. Postmodern criticism has shown either a given narrative is fundamentally flawed in itself, or it doesn’t have the explanatory power or scope that its advocates claimed. Instead, postmodernity has shown that the deep structure of reality is fragmentary and can’t be reduced to one unified theory. At best, we can form small narratives that give us a perspective on a portion of that deeper layer. Azuma prefers to call the fragmentary deep layer of reality the database of reality.

Let’s relate this back to otaku culture. Here, I’ll use examples more familiar to a U.S. audience. An example of modern fan culture would be that based around Star Wars. This was a series that took place within a universe with an elaborately developed backstory. The movies, books, and characters all participate and have a place in this grand narrative. So when we look at Luke Skywalker, we see him as part of a greater whole.

Postmodern fan culture is best seen through the original Aeon Flux series. Those who remember the original five shorts from MTV’s Liquid Television will remember each short ending with Aeon’s violent death. The next short would pick up as if Aeon had survived. The focus in this series is not some epic drama, but on the character Aeon and her current mission. We aren’t given many details about the world she lives in. There was no grand narrative to the original series, just the small narratives of each episode.

Human vs. Animal Culture

The second major concept in Azuma’s book is how this loss of grand narrative affects the nature of who we are. Under modernity, the fundamental characteristic of being human is a desire and quest for meaning. Humans can’t take reality as is; they believe there is something more to the world we live in. By contrast, animals don’t desire deeper meaning. The only thing an animal seeks is to have its needs met. The move from modernity to postmodernity means that homo sapiens are throwing off the artifice of humanness and returning to our animal roots (pg. 67).

Azuma postulates that contemporary otaku culture is thoroughly postmodern in nature. Consumers are no longer looking for grand narratives; they simply want characters that satisfy their criteria of traits. Companies no longer start with a story and then develop characters to fit the story. Instead, you now have a consumer database of desired characteristics (pp. 39-44). Companies cull from this database the appropriate number of traits to form a character, then build a story for the character and develop related merchandise. Some companies, like Pinky Street or Hot Wheels, don’t even bother with story. They simply develop character/product lines that will appeal to otaku needs.

Let’s return to our examples from above. A Star Wars fan purchases merchandise as a way to participate in the grand narrative of that universe. You can’t own the Star Wars story, but you can buy a book or figure and in that way own something representative of the epic story. Here, you are being a human consumer. It’s the Star Wars narrative that motivates your purchase and gives meaning to the products you own.

However, you can only purchase Aeon Flux products as an animal. There’s no grand narrative that motivates you; it’s the character herself. Aeon has traits that you find attractive. Perhaps you admire her beauty, the fact she’s a spy, or her proficiency with weapons. You might then go on to buy similar characters, like other female spy characters or other brunette women proficient with guns. You’re purchasing figures/products because of a desire for characters of a certain type regardless of what series they appear in or if they are even part of a series.

Japanese Consumerism

Finally, Azuma sees otaku culture as being reflective of Japanese consumerism in general. Because of the unique nature of otaku culture, it’s easier to analyze their consumption patterns and the ideology behind those trends. Once you’ve extracted the philosophical model, then you can apply it to other subcultures and general Japanese culture.

What makes Azuma’s argument so persuasive is his knowledge of otaku culture. He understands otaku history. Furthermore, he has an expansive knowledge of anime shows, manga series, video games, and popular characters. He weaves into his argument illustrations drawn from such diverse knowledge. His analyses of Saber Marionette J (pp. 22,23), Di Gi Charat (pp. 39-47), the art of Takashi Murakmi (pp. 63-66), and novel games (pp. 75-86) are amazing. It feels like Azuma’s argument is built on thoughtful observation of and participation in otaku culture and not him trying to force otaku culture into a pre-existing philosophical mold. It’s a brilliant demonstration of how even ‘low culture’ has depth and layers.

Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals is a thought-provoking book. It’s dense at parts because of the complexity of the thought and not because the use of academic jargon. Azuma’s prose is lively and meant to reflect the writing more typical of journalists than scholars. The translators have done an excellent of preserving these qualities of the original.

Application to U.S. Superhero Fans

What amazed me was how relevant Azuma’s discussion is to modern US superhero fans. In fact, you can argue that DC and Marvel pioneered postmodern consumerism. The way both companies have handled their characters over the decades have conditioned fans to follow a character through changing writers, artists, storylines, powers, origin stories, and universe crises. It’s not uncommon to hear fans discuss their love for a character but their dislike for a particular story arc or the way the current creative team is handling the character.

DC has gone even one step further in that there are multiple coexisting narratives or continuities for a character. For example, look at Batman. There are at least four continuities that a fan can choose to follow. First, there is the narrative found in the comic books. Second, there is the continuity of the animated series from the 1990s. Third, the storyline of the live action films. Finally, the narrative of the current animated series. So a fan of Batman can now choose which continuity they find the most likeable and follow that narrative to the exclusion of the others. You can’t get a more perfect example of Azuma’s database animal consumerism where the character is what matters most, not the narrative.

For those looking to understand otaku culture or Japanese scholarship of otaku culture, this is a must read. Given the similarities between otaku culture and U.S. comic book fan culture, it also offers fresh insight there, too. It’s not a easy read, but it’s worth the effort. I would like to see University of Minnesota Press follow up with more of Azuma’s works. My hope is that American comic scholars will read and react to this book in their writings. Having this book in English provides a great opportunity for cross-cultural communication among scholars to promote a deeper, more nuanced understanding of fan culture universally.

(A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Originally published by TwoMorrows in 2002 (and quickly sold out), Michael Eury’s incredibly thorough Captain Action: The Original Super-Hero Action Figure has recently returned to press — now in hardcover, notably updated, in color on glossy paper!

Captain Action:
The Original Super-Hero Action Figure
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Originally introduced in 1966 as a spin-off of the Batman craze, Captain Action was the first action figure, able to assume the identities of 13 well-known superheroes (assuming you bought the special add-on outfits and accessories). Later, in 1968, the character — without the ability to become other heroes — was developed into comic book form by DC Comics. Both of these were short-lived initially, but Captain Action rapidly became the cult toy for several generations of collectors and fans, leading to recent revivals of both comic and toy. This book offers the complete history of the toy and its development and an examination of the character in comic books.

This new hardcover book is quite spiffy, with virtually all of the previously black-and-white photographs and artwork now in glossy full color — much improved over the slightly muddy reproduction of the color sections in the original book. This new printing also improves on the overall production quality of the book, as the pages now pop and shine, and previously overlooked details (like the watermarked background art) are much more legible. Many of the original photographs have been reshot for color (and more dynamic poses!), and plenty of new photos added of original product releases and packaging. New information covers technical drawings and designs of previously unknown and unproduced toys like Weapon Firing Captain Magic and Talking Caption Action. In fact, there’s so much new stuff (there are now over 200 toy photos), a few illustrations from the first edition — mostly comic book illos of some of the heroes that Captain Action turned into — had to be dropped or turned into watermarks for this new edition. Trust me, you won’t even notice they’re gone.

There’s still plenty of great artwork here, much of it originally unpublished designs and package artwork by the great Murphy Anderson, who also writes the Foreword of the book. There’s also much information on Captain Action in comic books, first at DC Comics in 1968 by Jim Shooter, Wally Wood, and Gil Kane (which is thoroughly discussed in my favorite chapter of the book), then with up-to-the-minute coverage of the current Captain Action revival in a brand new chapter. Also included is information on Captain Action peripherals — mostly vehicles and weapons — and the little known (at least by me) “Super Queens” line featuring Wonder Woman, Batgirl, Supergirl, and Mera.

There’s also an Afterword by longtime Captain Action foe Dr. Evil which I just read… and am now compelled to demand that TwoMorrows also publish an equally beautiful book devoted exclusively to Dr. Evil! Bwah Hah Hah!

(A complimentary copy for this review was provided by Dr. Evil.)

Apparently lost in the flood of Wolverine product that accompanied the theatrical release of the Wolverine film last May, The Wolverine Files is actually a pretty fine overview of Wolverine and his long and twisted history, and it is much better written than many of the similar books released around that time.

The Wolverine Files
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Creatively written by longtime comics pro Mike W. Barr (Camelot 3000, Batman and the Outsiders, The Maze Agency), The Wolverine Files is presented as the official S.H.I.E.L.D. dossier on Wolverine, with documents and interview transcriptions (frequently redacted). That allows Barr the opportunity to write in a number of different character “voices”, including Natasha Romanova (Black Widow), Dr. Walter Langkowski (Sasquatch of Alpha Flight), Dr. Hank McCoy (The Beast), several notable S.H.I.E.L.D. agents (including Clay Quartermain, Jimmy Woo, and Jasper Sitwell), and various CIA or S.W.O.R.D. witnesses to the more important events of Logan’s very long life. A number of different media — including classified documents, handwritten notes, and blueprints and diagrams — are included. And the files are heavily illustrated with artwork and reprinted panels from the original comics to hammer home the points made in the text.

The Files are broken down into broad categories: Origins (eyewitness accounts of the early life of James Howlett and of the Weapon X program), History (remarkable accounts of Wolverine sightings at key points over the last century), Territories (Canada, Madripoor, Tokyo, and others), Allies (various team memberships and relationships with Captain America, The Hulk, and Ka-Zar), The Women in His Life (including Jean Gray, Kitty Pryde, Jubliation Lee, Silver Fox, Lady Mariko Yashida, and more), Enemies (Sabertooth, Magneto, Ogun, Silver Samurai, Viper, and others), as well as small sections on Wolverine’s adventures in Time and Space and Alternate Realities.

The Files are enhanced by comments throughout by Nick Fury himself. Fury, a longtime associate of Wolverine (since WW II), knows exactly when his agents are BS-ing him about Logan’s history, and he ain’t shy in telling ‘em so! My only — infinitesimal — nitpick about Fury’s presence here is that over in the current MU, he hasn’t been involved with S.H.I.E.L.D. for a number of years. I don’t care — he’s my favorite Marvel character!

The production quality of the book is very high and the graphics especially are well chosen and large. The design of the book is pretty bland, but it does look like a file, so at least it’s accurate. A bound-in string-closed file is filled with “secret” stuff — including reproductions of a signed Dave Cockrum sketch of Nightcrawler, Wolverine, and Colossus; a Wolverine sketch by Tim Townsend; X-Men Vol. 2 #100 and #112 cover sketches by Cockrum; a signed Wolverine sketch by Cockrum; and early costume sketches by John Romita. These are quite cool and help to explain the cover price of the book.

Much less impressive is the slipcover for the hardcover book. Despite its great design and die-cut claw marks, the slipcase is one of the flimsiest I’ve ever seen. It offers very little in the way of protection for the book, and it has to be carefully handled or it will tear because of the huge die-cuts. Despite this, The Wolverine Files is still a fine overview of one of the most popular (and complicated) characters in comics, and worth seeking out. (Or as a great easy-to-find item for your Christmas want list!)

(A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

It’s hard to believe, but Bill Watterson’s remarkable Calvin and Hobbes has been missing from the funny pages of your local newspaper for almost 15 years now. The cartoon duo’s last public appearance was in 2005, with the release of the 26-pound The Complete Calvin and Hobbes — the heaviest book to ever hit the New York Times bestseller list. The last public appearance of the strip’s creator, Bill Watterson, is a little bit harder to pin down. After years of furious, mostly behind-the-scenes battles with his syndicate, product licensors, the occasional cartoonist peer, and ultimately with fame itself, the exhausted Watterson decided to take his ball — as well as his spikey-haired six-year-old and his stuffed tiger — and quietly go home. Calvin and Hobbes ended on December 31, 1995. And the world has been a little less magical since.

Looking for Calvin and Hobbes
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In making this choice, Watterson has become one of the most talked-about recluses of the contemporary art world, this generation’s J.D. Salinger. And you know what, he has every right to do so.

In Looking for Calvin and Hobbes, a new book about Watterson by Nevin Martell, the author wastes no time in his stated premise. He’s out to track down the reclusive Watterson and get the ultimate interview. It sounds like he’s stalking some rare species of tiger (Hobbes?) for a bad cable reality show. The mock-cliffhanger ending of the introduction — “Will I get the ultimate interview?” — comes off as a crass writing trick to propel the reader through the book, as if it is some sort of mystery to be solved.

There’s no mystery. Watterson is obviously pretty much done with his public life — and if he isn’t, he’s calling the shots about when and where he’ll be appearing next, if at all. Any proposed “search” for him creeps into the realm of stalkerazzi. Additionally, Martell breaks the cardinal rule of all good “reporters”: he ends up being part of his own story. Parts of the narrative are devoted to his hopes and dreams of speaking with Watterson or what steps he takes to track him down.

But it’s not as if the book is totally without merit. If you can get past his “quest”, Martell has done some incredible research into Watterson’s early life and his entry into the admittedly frustrating world of syndicated comic strips, including his failed attempts at political cartooning. Plus, Martell has scored a remarkable number of interviews with the people who know Watterson best: family and friends, former co-workers and editors, and — most interesting of all — Watterson’s fellow comic strip artists, both peers and younger artists inspired by Watterson.

Not all of these testimonials are generous. Watterson rankled a lot of the old guard of comic strip professionals, perhaps deliberately, in his often blunt comments about why comic strips are dying. But Watterson had his champions as well, most notably Berkeley Breathed (Bloom County, Opus) and Lynn Johnston (For Better or for Worse), who may have provided the very personal reason for why Watterson ultimately decided to fold Calvin and Hobbes. Other notable commentators include Brad Bird, Dave Berry, Harvey Pekar, Patton Oswalt, Jeff Smith, and Jonathan Lethem. Many of these insights are just as compelling, or telling, about Watterson as what might be disclosed by the creator himself.

Also fascinating are the stories told by former “soldiers” from the comic strip syndicates. Watterson saved much of his contempt for the syndicates and their greed and lack of foresight, so he can’t have always been a pleasant person to work with, but most of the the former editors and executives (many now retired) who speak here are very candid about situations which most likely vexed Watterson. Former United Features Syndicate staffers Sarah Gillespie and Dave Hendlin tell some horrifying anecdotes about corporate focus groups and marketing directives which ultimately drove Watterson away from United to Universal Press Syndicate. At Universal, Lee Salem became Watterson’s editor (and ultimately the president of the syndicate), and he provides some essential background into Watterson’s working habits and relationship to the syndicate.

One other major shortcoming of the book is not Martell’s fault, although he inadvertently exacerbates the problem with his excellent descriptions of Watterson’s artwork. The problem? No artwork is included (or at least not in the galley that I’m reviewing from). I can sort of understand why there is no Calvin and Hobbes artwork here, and frankly, I’d be surprised if anyone reading this book doesn’t already have at least one collection of the strip on their bookshelf that they can quickly reference.

But Martell spends a substantial chunk of the book discussing Watterson’s early struggles to land a syndicated strip. He describes in detail the editorial cartoons, spot newspaper illustrations, yearbook and other high school drawings, and many other early examples of Watterson’s development as an artist. Why is none of this here? (Fortunately, five minutes on Google will get you to much of this early work, including Watterson’s occasional reviews, transcripts of his speeches, and other ephemera).

The cover of the book, with the just-allowable slivers of Calvin’s foot and Hobbes’ tail, screams “Unauthorized!” and therefore also plays into the tabloid-y feel of the project — which is very unfortunate. Because deep down, this really is a wonderful, warm, and informative book that manages to capture just the right amount of magic about the creator and his creation. It also accomplishes one other very important thing — anyone who reads it will be compelled to pull their Calvin and Hobbes collections off the shelves and spend a lovely, happy weekend re-reading them.

The whole thing about writing a book about an artist without any of his artwork in it reminds me of the well-traveled and impossible-to-attribute quote about rock music, “Talking about music is like dancing about architecture.” That’s something I hope that Martell would appreciate, being a rock writer himself. (And BTW, I think Frank Zappa probably said it first. Or Martin Mull.) Looking for Calvin and Hobbes by Nevin Martell is a 256-page hardcover that will be available in October from Continuum. (A complimentary preview galley for this review was provided by the publisher.)

The DC Comics Guide to
Digitally Drawing Comics
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I was previously unfamiliar with Freddie E Williams II, probably because he only began working for DC in 2006, and I cut back on my superhero reading around then. His best-known credits are Robin, The Flash, and Final Crisis Aftermath: Run. He works entirely digitally, providing him the expertise for this book.

The book aims to teach an artist how to create a comic page completely on computer. Such a process is promised to provide quality work faster, since touch-ups, corrections, and delivery (among other factors) take less time. Williams explains a full digital workflow, from start to finish, after introductory chapters on how he got started and pros and cons of the method. Pros: it’s easier to experiment, flexibility in tweaking, no physical scanning, cleaner pages, and reusing backgrounds. Cons: cost of equipment (although he also talks about saving by not having to buy pencils, pens, and other tools), the risk of data loss, and lack of original art to sell. To counteract the last, Williams has taken to hand-inking some pages (he selects the most dynamic and desirable) as a final step. He provides what he calls “hybrid workflows” like this to encourage artists who want to incorporate computers into their process without going all the way.

Williams has worked digitally for most of his professional career, so I’d be interested in hearing some artists who have done more work “by hand” comment on this section. I’m surprised there aren’t more cons — for instance, his pro titled “You can resize and tweak forever” seems like it would also be a downside in the wrong hands. And we can all think of times when artists have gotten carried away with their digital tools to create silly-looking pages, as with the overuse of lens flare. I suppose you can’t really blame the tools for that, though, since there are also artists who get carried away with traditional methods, like cross-hatching.

The book assumes use of Photoshop with a Wacom tablet, and the tools and techniques are expressed in terms of menus and palettes for that particular application. The meat of the material is contained in these core chapters:

• Digital and Hybrid Workflows — The all-digital flow features roughs, wireframes, and inks done on computer, while the others use printouts and hand techniques at various parts of the process. Includes a step-by-step exercise.
• The Master Page — Creating a template that matches your publisher’s requirements. Williams also saves script pages, sketch ideas, and reference images in his Photoshop files as separate layers.
• Time-Saving Libraries — Organizing reference material, stencils of superhero logos (which can be automatically put into the proper perspective), buildings and backgrounds, brushes and textures, and recording actions (macros).
• Digital Roughs — Page layouts and initial setups.
• Wireframes — Building the page structure by layering characters (using a “cardboard cutout” technique) and backgrounds to refine compositions.
• Pencil Hybrid Workflow — In case of working with a separate inker, or if the art is going “direct to color” without traditional inking, the artist creates printed breakdowns that are penciled over.
• Inks — How to “digitally replicate the look of some traditional inking techniques”, whether inking over wireframes, finished pencils, or hand inking.

I can’t really judge the specifics of the book’s techniques, since my Photoshop knowledge stops after crop and resize. But the approaches presented here struck me as professional and reasonable. They’ll certainly spur good habits in an artist who wants help organizing their work and process in a repeatable system. An accomplished illustrator will likely make their own modifications to the workflows and instructions presented here, but it seems a fine starting point. Typical of the books in this series, an assembly-line workflow is assumed, with Williams receiving a script from someone else, passing off his pages to different colorists and letterers, and working under the supervision of an editor, who provides direction, approves work, and makes some artistic decisions, like cover designs.

The book will be released on September 1. A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.

The Best of Simon and Kirby
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Grouped by genre — heroes, science fiction, war and adventure, romance, crime, western, horror, and sick humor — each section has an introductory essay by Kirby expert Mark Evanier. The book’s introduction is by Joe Simon himself, breezily covering the team’s history and many firsts.

The oversized hardcover is a pleasure to read due to the excellent reproduction and coloring on thick matte paper. Some of the work is rough — panel layouts that require arrows to show what to read next, dialogue balloons in the wrong order, bizarrely misshapen heads — but the energy and imagination and fast-paced action are there from the beginning.

Aside from reprints of stories from such titles as Captain America #1, Adventure Comics #75 (the Sandman vs. the Norse god Thor), Fighting American #2, and Blue Bolt #4, there’s also the debut of Stuntman, a promising title with circus and Hollywood settings killed by lack of distribution and too much competition. The stories date from 1940 to 1960, a wide-ranging overview. Most interesting to me were the lesser-seen war and romance ones. The book kept my interest all the way through, and this is perhaps the first time I’ve truly appreciated the skill of Kirby’s artwork.

Here’s some preview pages. This is promised to be only the first volume in The Official Simon and Kirby Library. Future volumes will be genre-specific: romance, horror, crime, and superheroes. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

This textbook is arranged in 15 lessons that promise to teach the reader “the foundations of visual storytelling”. And you know, given the authors, I believe them. Matt Madden previously created the amazing 99 Ways to Tell a Story, as well as the graphic novel Odds Off. Jessica Abel’s works include La Perdida and Life Sucks, and together, they have taught years’ worth of comic courses, gaining important practical experience in what works instructionally. (And because they’re artists, they can also draw themselves into the book.)

Drawing Words & Writing Pictures
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The book is designed so that it can be used either in a classroom or for independent study (as so often happens — comics have reached a point where some formal study is available, but the majority of practitioners are still self-taught). And the authors are careful to treat comics as an art form, not a genre, so that the book applies to aspiring artists whether they want to create superheroes, manga, independent/art comics, or webcomics.

The 15-lesson structure mimics a 15-week college course of 3 to 6 hours a class, and the companion website has teaching guides (including ways to select material to fit courses of different lengths), examples of student work, lists of supplies needed per chapter, and links and downloadable extras. The material covers both technical skills (such as lettering) and writing considerations (story structure, developing characters).

Chapters include activities (to be done in class or a group), homework (done individually between sessions/chapters), and recommendations for further reading. Sidebars present tips, information on art supplies, definitions, and other background material. It’s a very well-laid out book — although with a strange fondness for orange, the only color in the otherwise black-and-white book — that demonstrates how much thought went into this project. It’s horizontal, for example, so no matter where in the book you are, it will stay open to the page you want without having to hold it with one hand.

As expected, the first chapter covers definitions and terminology. They don’t get bogged down in “what is comics?”, but it’s important that they get students on the same page in considering “comics” a medium, not a genre or a format, as well as establishing common structural terms. (And I appreciated the sidebar called “Can’t draw?” I think even those who want to only write comics should read and learn from this book as well.)

Actual creation begins with one-panel work: sensible for a time-limited class setting, but one of the most difficult for communication. (If you want to show action and reaction, more panels makes it easier.) I applaud them challenging their students this way — they’re starting with the basic blocks of combining words and images to understand how the two together make magic.

Other chapters cover, in addition to expected topics like penciling (which focuses on figure drawing and tools and mechanics, not illustration), thumbnails, panel transitions, page design and layout, world-building and observation, inking (2 chapters, one each for pen and brush), and scanning. The lettering chapter makes a strong case for hand lettering as an essential skill and better for comics aesthetically (especially if done in both upper- and lower-case). I also appreciated the short mentions of topics such as “how to use a photocopier” and “correct posture” and “stretches”. Appendices cover supplies, how to critique, story-generating ideas, how to do a comic book report, and making minicomics.

Because they’re structuring lessons in ways unexpected, the student will learn much more than they realize. Instead of merely the usual functional breakdown — writing, drawing, inking, etc. — this book is based on principles, progressing from juxtaposition to sequence, timing, and so on. It’s a much more fundamental approach that will result in a fuller understanding of the medium, not just craft construction.

The book itself is an easy read, written in the tone of a coach instead of a schoolteacher. (While that profession is under-valued and admirable, the associations are uncomfortable.) The text is conversational, with personality, yet the content is the most important part. You can get through it quickly, picking up lots of information along the way, but you’re not going to truly benefit from it unless you commit to working with it, engaging in the exercises and actually creating comics. Unfortunately, if you’re following it on your own, you’re going to miss out on the critiques that are a major follow-on part to the homework and activity sections.

This is the first book about making comics that is truly a textbook. It’s not just about how to draw, but how to create and design stories. It incorporates both theory and practice. It moves, step-by-step, from the basics to more advanced lessons, until at the end, the student has made their own minicomic. A second volume is in the works, planned to cover such advanced topics as how to create a graphic novel, publishing, and distribution.

There is an excerpt available at the publisher’s website. The two authors were interviewed online about their aims for the book and their backgrounds. Here’s another review by a working artist and teacher. Last year, an online group formed to do a kind of independent study based on the book, but they seemed to have petered out after chapter 5. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

The Comics Before 1945 (hardcover)
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Each decade from 1900 through the forties gets a chapter, consisting of an introduction that sets the historical stage, both culturally and in terms of significant comic strip changes; a series of one-page biographical profiles of key artists from that period, followed by examples of their work; and samples of other key strips of the period, often grouped thematically. There are also short pieces on cultural issues, such as the use of racial caricature and changing roles for female characters (praised for being both “hardworking and attractive”; although there are no female artists profiled in the book, there is a short section mentioning some of the best-known names in the 40s chapter introduction).

The decade overviews are written as surveys, briefly mentioning as much as possible in a dry, reporter-like “just the facts” style. As the book progresses, strips change from goofy comedy drawn in ways that look incredibly immature to our eyes to cliffhanger-driven adventure tales with fine illustration and graphically developed styles.

The biggest problem with the book is the same that mars any such survey volume: the desire for more. One or two strips from classic runs are hardly enough to understand why they’re so revered, but the only way to solve that would be to make it a DVD instead of a book, and reading comic strips on a screen would be even further removed from the original experience. Many of the better-known later period adventure strips are becoming available in comprehensive reprint volumes from other publishers, though.

I still don’t understand why Krazy Kat is so beloved, but I got to see Blondie back when she was a flapper and Dagwood a millionaire’s son. I look forward to seeing the companion volume, The Comics Since 1945, where I’ll be more familiar with the strips it contains.

The Business of Comics
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They were written in the late 1990s, so the specifics about particular companies and publications are no longer valid, but the advice in general is still solid. These books aren’t about how to make comics — they’re about how to be a professional, how to have a career in comics. Business, not art. Hard work, not waiting for inspiration to strike. Since the first major piece of advice is “do your research”, the savvy reader will soon figure out how to bring the specifics up-to-date.

In the introduction, Haines points out the problem with any entertainment industry: “Much of what I’ll discuss will be basic common-sense information. You may find yourself thinking, ‘Hey! Everybody knows that!’ But trust me, they don’t.” Because so many people want to be in comics, they concentrate on the wrong things and let desperation overcome them. They don’t think of their dream as a job that they need to keep once they win their opportunity. And because you have to be young to go for the idea of “breaking in”, many don’t have the business experience they need to succeed at freelancing.

Chapters in The Business of Comics cover how to handle

• creating a portfolio
• attending a convention and meeting people
• submitting by mail
• interviewing
• receiving feedback
• doing the work

Also considered are legal and financial business concerns, as well as interpersonal advice like “don’t be egotistical” or “keep other people’s needs in mind” or “take criticism well” or very important, “don’t be a geek”. Record-keeping is emphasized to keep track of who you’re targeting, why, and when. Suggestions are punctuated with short “ProFiles”, where a working comics pro answers a question related to the topic under discussion, such as “how do you conduct a critique?” or “do you recommend attending conventions?” or “how do you get the second job?” Communications are covered, including how to interact with fans.

The Writer’s Guide to the Business of Comics
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Earlier edition

Haines’ followup, The Writer’s Guide to the Business of Comics, is as the title suggests, a similar volume geared more towards writers. They often have a harder go of it than artists do, because the quality of their work can’t be seen instantly (and because there are always people who think being a comic writer is just having the right ideas).

The sections are similar in this book, although it is perhaps a little more outdated when it comes to discussing online technology. At the time of writing, going online meant visiting one of a few areas on AOL or CompuServe, so such areas as discussed as though they were perpetual conventions. Now, an internet presence is essential and familiarity with such is widespread, but areas are more fragmented, and you’re less likely to interact directly with professionals.

Also, while it’s mentioned several times that your submissions will be more likely to be reviewed if you create your own comics, I think that’s even more true these days. If you say you want to be a comic writer and you don’t have anything published to show for it, most of the big companies won’t take you seriously. Still, much of the advice will be eye-opening and essential to the aspiring comic writer.

These books are out of print but easy to find at reasonable prices used. Seek them out if you want to be professional professional.

Going With the Flow

Ron Garney on Creating Art and Storytelling
by Bill Baker
BBP Press, $12
Note that all of Baker’s books are on sale until June 15 with free shipping in the U.S.

This book consists of two interviews with the artist Ron Garney; the first was greatly expanded from a 2002 piece in Sketch magazine #17. Frankly, I don’t get it. Baker has previously done similar books on Alan Moore, but there’s a big difference between interviewing an outspoken comic writer generally acclaimed to be a genius with an extensive career throughout the industry and talking to an artist who mostly draws Marvel superheroes.

The foreword says, “… it’s become a certainty that Ron’s art is Special. Yet despite that feeling, I’m not able to clearly articulate just what makes his work Special.” From that I conclude two things: 1) I’m not the target audience for a work that’s so precious as to capitalize “special”. 2) The interviewer is stating from the beginning his failure at conveying why we should read a whole book about Garney, so the ideal reader is one who already thinks he’s great. In other words, if you don’t already know, this book won’t tell you.

Also, there aren’t nearly enough pictures. 20-some illustrations in a book of 118 pages are far too few to give a portrait of an artist’s career and work.

Get Animated!

Get Animated!
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Creating Professional Cartoon Animation on Your Home Computer
by Tim Maloney
Watson-Guptill, $24.95

“This guide is for those who have personal computers and truly yearn to create top-notch animation,” says the Preface. I thought that last part would leave me out — I don’t even want to write comics, let alone make cartoons — but I learned a surprising amount from this book anyway.

Although the book comes with a tutorial DVD containing open-source software, resource links, and animation samples, it also aims to get past particular tools and concentrate on core concepts that will take the reader into the future. Here, the computer is as much a tool as a pencil, and the book aims to be platform-agnostic, a refreshing approach. It’s not a software manual but a process guidebook.

Early chapters start from the beginning, with sections on finding ideas, writing scripts, and storyboarding. Later, in addition to basic animation, the book also covers layout, character design, sound, timing, and finally, exhibition. The reader will also learn key terms and principles from the industry. The layout is welcoming, with large pages, plenty of white space, clearly marked headings, nice use of accent color, and cute little characters doodled in. (Many examples use Dingy Duck and Mangy Mouse.)

The idea-generating games in the first chapter, including dream imagery and free association, would be of use to any creative person (and their historical and artistic inspirations are fascinating!). I like Maloney’s opinionated voice — it’s got energy and will inspire the reader to feel there’s a lot she needs to learn but it’s all achievable with enough hard work. I particularly enjoyed the section on the differences between comics and storyboards and why you shouldn’t use a comic as a storyboard.

Mutant Cinema

Mutant Cinema
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The X-Men Trilogy From Comics to Screen
by Thomas J. McLean
Sequart Research & Literacy Organization, $23.95

This book annotates the three X-Men movies (scene by scene), discusses reaction and box office for each, and describes the tie-in comics. Most important to note up front is the disclaimer that “This book is not endorsed by either Marvel Comics or 20th Century Fox.” That gives them the academic freedom to say whatever they want, but as a result, there are almost no images. The only pictures are muddily reproduced black-and-white comic covers at the start of each chapter.

This is clearly not a book for those merely interested in the movie/comic connections. There’s much too much material here for them to wade through. Honestly, so much of it goes into so much detail (much of which I was already familiar with) that it’s wearying. I’d rather read it as a blog, so I could more easily (and cheaply) dip in and out (and maybe see more pictures). This reads more like a thesis, a work created to demonstrate the author’s deep knowledge of the subject, than a book, something written to communicate with a more casual reader.

The text is dry, with little personality, and reading other people’s descriptions of comics and movie scenes doesn’t particularly grab me. I’m finding myself puzzled by the audience for this book. Those so interested in the X-Men as to want a 300-page book on them will already know much of what’s presented here (some of which reads as though speaking to someone who’d never heard of the X-Men or Marvel Comics). Those who need the introductions will likely find the whole tiring.

Tigerheart

Tigerheart
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by Peter David
Del Rey, $12 US

A retelling of Peter Pan with an original spin. I haven’t had a chance to finish it, but the first few chapters are enough for me to recommend it. A boy whose father indulges his imagination has to cope with a lost baby sister and his father’s resulting depature. It’s narrated in an entertaining voice that reminded me, in being both fanciful and knowing, of The Princess Bride. David does an excellent job of casting events in such a way that an adult reader will know what’s going on in spite of the boy’s more innocent view; as a result, the book works on multiple levels.

Catalog

Catalog
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The Illustrated History of Mail-Order Shopping
by Robin Cherry
Princeton Architectural Press, $35

Before the internet, if you couldn’t find something locally, you shopped a catalog. (Sometimes, even if you could — I fondly remember using the Sears Wish Book to make Christmas lists so my parents knew what I wanted.) This handsome volume captures a whole range of that experience, creating a book full of memory and wonder. From the first days of Montgomery Ward and Sears (although Hammacher Schlemmer is now the longest-running catalog) to today, when upscale specialty catalogs such as Williams-Sonoma are popular, they’re all here.

After a short history of mail order and a comprehensive listing of the best-known companies (so many of which are gone or a shadow of themselves, sadly), sections are divided by types of products: fashion, toys, housewares, animals, food, hobbies, food. Images range from 1905 to just a few years ago. It’s a hoot to see which celebrities — including Isabella Rossellini — started as catalog models, often for J.C. Penney. The underwear is the most amusing, from 1958 panties with designs of 45 records for teenage girls to 1971 animal-print men’s briefs and vests in nylon. The thing I want most is the complete Monopoly set made entirely out of candy, mostly chocolate, for $600 in 1978.

These kinds of lavishly illustrated popular histories are wonderful for period reference. Especially in this case, since with few exceptions (Neiman Marcus), the market for these catalogs are the general public, so you get a great view of everyday needs and wants. Not only do they show fashion and products of a particular era, their design shows what the “look” of a time was in terms of colors and layout and fonts and text. Once you open its covers, you’ll spend a lot more time with it than you expected.

Certitude

Certitude
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A Profusely Illustrated Guide to Blockheads and Bullheads, Past and Present
by Adam Begley; illustrations by Edward Sorel
Harmony Books, $19.99, Excerpt available

This small hardcover attempts to provide entertainment by pointing out the hypocrisy of famous people. Now, here on the internet, that’s a popular daily parlor game, and I don’t always agree with it. Charlton Heston, for example, is portrayed in the book as a fool because he believed in gun control in the wake of Bobby Kennedy’s assassination in 1968 and then led the NRA two decades later. I don’t agree with his later position, but sometimes, people change their minds as they live and have different experiences. That’s a virtue to be applauded, not something to be avoided, and saying, “I was mistaken before” isn’t hypocrisy, it’s maturity.

As a result, I found this book and the way it reaches for subjects to laugh at mean-spirited and petty. Sorel’s scratchy caricatures make the subjects look crazy, as intended, but they’re entertaining in their exaggeration, much more so than the accompanying text. The short profiles give little knowledge of their subjects beyond the claim they made, whether the Pope who launched the Crusades or scientists who come to the wrong conclusion. I appreciate people who are willing to strike out, even if we now know they’re wrong, because the alternative would be people who never were willing to commit to anything, and that would mean stagnation.

Some are very much a matter of opinion. Carry Nation’s destruction of taverns, leading to Prohibition, is one example. How to evaluate the temperance movement is a subject for a thesis, not an undersized page of text. Part of the evidence for her wrongness is the line, “Never for a minute did she question the wisdom of her mission or wonder about the consequences of success.” Why would she? And since when is having a belief evidence itself that the belief is wrong? At this point, the book becomes a circular argument, gazing into its own navel. There’s also some unpleasant moralizing going on, as when Ayn Rand is shown as bad in part for sleeping with someone a lot younger than she was.

This is very much a big city-kind of book, celebrating those who doubt and disbelieve over those who have faith or certainty. You already know if constantly pointing out feet of clay and missing clothes suits your sense of humor. The flap copy tries to put a more noble perspective on the endeavor, talking about how “once a foolish notion sinks its teeh into the famous or the powerful … [it] can have profound consequences for the rest of us”, but it’s really a giant, self-satisfied raspberry, yelling “ha, ha, I knew better.” We’re supposed to believe what we’re given without enough detail to evaluate for ourselves, which means the book itself asks for our belief while decrying those who do. Hypocrite!

They’re broken out in the traditional division of labor on the corporate assembly line — Writing, Pencilling, Inking, Coloring and Lettering — and the talent behind them are accomplished in their respective fields.

The DC Comics Guide to Writing Comics

The DC Comics Guide to
Writing Comics
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The DC Comics Guide to Writing Comics is by writer/editor Dennis O’Neil, famous for his work on Batman, Green Arrow, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman, and much more. He’s also an accomplished instructor, having taught at the School of Visual Arts and various colleges, which benefits him in explaining material to the reader.

He starts with terminology and common symbols (such as thought balloons), the building blocks of a writer’s script. I appreciate his emphasis on teaching the mechanics and knowing the basics. Relatively early, he brings up the need for exposition, making sure the reader knows the character names and the purpose of their conflict in “adventure and fantasy titles” (as he terms them).

Along the way, he shares several rules of thumb. The accomplished writer may not need such recommendations as “start by showing the status quo” or “don’t open on an inanimate object” (because “people are interested in people, not things”), but the aspiring learner will find such strictures useful in turning out acceptable work until they better understand and internalize their own style.

Other chapters cover story structure, creating drama, subplots, characterization (with emphasis on The Hero), and script preparation. Many of the rules relate to 22-page (or shorter!) stories, suited to the serial stapled comic format. When he refers to working with an editor, that’s a limitation/benefit self-publishers likely won’t have. Part Two of the book covers longer formats: the miniseries, maxiseries, ongoing series, story arcs, and megaseries (stories like Batman: No Man’s Land that sprawl through multiple titles).

Graphic novels get a page-and-a-half of coverage. The story arc section spends most of its time on what O’Neil terms “The Levitz Paradigm”, a way to rotate through lead and supporting stories on a continuing basis (as Paul Levitz used when writing The Legion of Super-Heroes). It’s useful, but it also for years prevented the series from being collected in trade paperbacks because it’s the antithesis of arcs with clean breakpoints. As such, I find it an outdated technology — but then, this volume was published in 2001, and the bookstore comic market wasn’t nearly the force it is today. The section on adaptations is also out of date, since few movies are redone in comics these days.

Mark Evanier contributes a three-page appendix on “Writing Humor Comics”. The volume concludes with a short recommended reading list of books about writing.

The DC Comics Guide to Pencilling Comics

The DC Comics Guide to
Pencilling Comics
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Both The DC Comics Guide to Pencilling Comics and The DC Comics Guide to Inking Comics are by Klaus Janson, also an SVA teacher.

I thought he was a difficult choice, since I’m not a fan of his scratchy, blocky style. (I prefer “pretty” artists like Stuart Immonen.) However, I soon found it a moot point, since his instruction on pencilling starts with the basics and his illustrations are primarily diagrams: the shapes that make up anatomy, shading to show a light source, etc.

In my opinion, the book spends too much time covering the basics, the kinds of things you find in any book on drawing. There are some comic-specific mentions here and there, but the chapters on faces, anatomy, and perspective are generic except for the illustrations chosen to accompany them. (And successful comic artists have demonstrated that, no matter how many times instructors say the basics are essential, it’s very possible to build a career on ignoring them if you have energy, flash, and luck. Later on, Janson leans towards acknowledging this in a section on the importance of personality to getting a job.)

It’s only halfway through the book, when the page layout discussion begins, that those seeking comic-specific help will be satisfied. Unfortunately, a couple of the examples he selects (including one of his own) to demonstrate alternatives to the usual page grid I found confusing. My eye didn’t follow the flow he suggested. If you don’t agree with the approach and readability of work by the book’s writer, it’s hard to take his advice on storytelling clarity.

The section on “Shots and Angles” is a useful reference, however. The book ends with a page-by-page commentary on an 8-page Batman story by Janson. Overall, this is the weakest of the series, but it’s followed by the strongest.

The DC Comics Guide to Inking Comics

The DC Comics Guide to
Inking Comics
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The DC Comics Guide to Inking Comics begins with equipment: ink, paper, brushes, pens. Then comes the explanation of the craft, exploring the unique nature of comic book inking in terms of the separation of duties and the question of “tracing”. This book has a very thorough explanation of some of the situations inkers will be asked to tackle and how they can handle issues of reproduction, depth, line weight, lighting, and texture and avoid common mistakes.

At the same time Janson acknowledges that mass-produced commodity comics are craft, not art, part of a business aiming only at profit, he also argues for inkers working to the best of their ability and providing value through skill. Inkers are artists, he says, and “the ability to draw is the single most important talent to become a successful inker.”

The illustrations are especially helpful in this volume, supporting Janson’s points and demonstrating different styles through comparisons with the same underlying penciller. One sequence shows how much work has been done on a single page after every hour — the whole thing takes five.

The DC Comics Guide to Coloring and Lettering Comics

The DC Comics Guide to
Coloring and Lettering Comics
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The DC Comics Guide to Coloring and Lettering Comics is a split volume. DC’s Art Director, Mark Chiarello, tackles coloring while the acclaimed Todd Klein handles lettering. Each half is again divided in two, one section for the craft and another about using a computer to perform it. As it has to be, this volume is printed in color, unlike the others.

Chiarello begins his section with a history of comic book coloring, followed by color principles and techniques, including making choices to best suit an artist’s style. He packs a lot of useful information into limited space, with plenty of examples.

The meat of his contribution then deals with the tool of the computer, including software, scanning, and file delivery. He focuses on Photoshop commands and menus, since it’s the industry standard. This section is very specific to someone who’s going to actually be doing the work; unlike the other pieces, a reader only interested in theory and general education will find most of this skippable.

Todd Klein begins his half with an astounding sampler, a piece he created by hand in 1993. It made me sad that that craft is a dying art, with most choosing the ease of computer lettering instead. He moves on to tools and then principles and practice for text, balloons, sound effects, titles, logos, and advanced techniques, including the essential art of balloon placement. The computer section focuses on font design and creation and using Adobe Illustrator.

The focus on how lettering and coloring should work, regardless of tools, makes this book valuable, even as the computer sections have aged.

The Series and Its Future

One of the benefits of the DC Comics imprimatur is the use of their characters and story pages in illustrating the books. It’s comforting to see examples featuring Superman, Batman, and the Flash, and the covers feature DC’s “big three” characters for audience familiarity. The books are copiously illustrated, too, with plenty of full-page black-and-white reproductions of comic pages. (Sometimes, as in the writing volume, I wondered if there were too many, since some of them had only a tangential connection to the material. Still, they were pretty and eye-catching, making it easy to move through the books.)

The flip side is that, as you’d expect, there’s an underlying assumption in the books that “comics” means superhero comics and the assembly line division of labor is in place. Someone interested in doing all the artistic work on their own graphic novel, for example, will only find some of the advice useful. They should read these volumes with their own filter in place. There’s still information to be gained, but they may not need to consider how to prepare work for handing off to someone else. If you’re interested in working in the realm of corporate comics, though, there are no better guidebooks than these from one of the two biggest superhero companies.

And the series isn’t done yet: The DC Comics Guide to Digitally Drawing Comics is due out later this year. The publisher says this month, but Amazon says September.

The columns collected here were originally published from late 2000 through March 2008. The first 17 finished up Hibbs’ run in Comics & Games Retailer, a professional limited-circulation magazine. The remaining 50 ran on Newsarama.com, where the audience included consumers as well as retailers. (Many of those columns are still available, but you have to change the links from www.newsarama.com/ whatever to classic.newsarama.com/ whatever. The not-listed 48, 49, and 50 can be accessed through tweaking the URL.)

Tilting at Windmills Volume 2
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As Hibbs points out in his introduction, this eight-year period is an incredible time of change for comics, both in terms of popular perception, as they gained respect, and in format. The direct market, he says, is becoming one “driven primarily by sales of trade paperback editions and graphic novels.”

Tracking changing perceptions of book-format comics is one of the most interesting threads through this volume. In the early days, he’s enthusiastic about TPBs at a time when many of his compatriots didn’t carry them. He says then that most have an infinite shelf life, most are kept in stock by the publishers, and many will keep selling “forever”. Obviously, he couldn’t have predicted how some publishers would take the wrong lessons from this format, treating books as periodicals instead of handling them as perennials. (Such as his own publisher for this volume, not having the first book available when this one was released.) Nor could he (or anyone) see the glut that resulted as publishers raced to put out collections of almost anything, whether it was worth reprinting or not. By the end of the book, Hibbs has moved from (paraphrasing) “you want to start carrying books with spines and here’s why” to “here’s why publishers should hold off soliciting TPBs so we can sell more periodicals”.

I was surprised one important subject wasn’t really covered: Hibbs’ class-action lawsuit against Marvel to force them to live up to their contractual Terms of Service with retailers. The first mention is in passing, in a piece about how badly Diamond’s backlist catalog (a publication no longer offered in print these days) is organized. Later this is explained as legal timidity on the part of C&GR magazine, which was trying to sell itself at the time. That’s a shame, since it would have been invaluable to see his thoughts at the time captured, as he worked through the process. This attitude eventually led to Hibbs’ departure in favor of online venues, which also allowed for a much shorter lead time before publication.

Also included are Hibbs’ notorious Bookscan sales figure analyses from 2003-2007. I say “notorious” because they always invoke discussion from all the various parties with dogs in the hunt. Since so little sales data is available, though, it’s what we’ve got to go on. I did get a giggle out of the early entry speculating on whether manga is a 2003 fad; I think that one’s been answered by now.

I had deja vu reading a piece from 2001 complaining about how bad DC crossovers are. Until he mentioned “Our Worlds at War”, it could have been any year of the past eight. The point that such big, line-spanning events ultimately result in lower sales unfortunately still haven’t been learned by the publishers. Other topics, such as how comics are too expensive (at a top price of $3 an issue) or how the San Diego Comic-Con was too big (in 2002), are always timely complaints, even if the details differ. There were also several memories raised of things gone from the industry but not missed, such as CrossGen or Bill Jemas or the temporary fad of 10-cent/9-cent/25-cent storyline starter issues.

While business specifics may be outdated in the earlier sections, the underlying messages are still relevant: choose what you want to do intelligently and do it well. Work with your retail partners to show them the results of their decisions and intelligently argue for change if necessary. And most of all, don’t let the bastards get you down. (Hibbs never says this explicitly, but it’s what I thought after reading his columns during Jemas’ reign at Marvel.) In the 400 pages, there’s lots of material about what publishers are doing wrong or could do better, but if you’re interested in the unique issues of comic retailing, the gems — such as the piece on how to stock your first store — are well worth it.

A few notes: Newsarama Column #6, covering cycle sheets from June 2004, is missing for unknown reasons. Since the text is still available online, maybe it was just an oversight, or maybe it was thought not to make much sense without the supporting examples. (Since there are notes for it in the back, I’m guessing it was an accidental omission.) Later numbering jumps around to cover the gap and match up to the point where he mentions this is his 150th column. (Each column entry has three numbers: the Newsarama sequence number, a sequence number for the entire series, and a sequential number based on its place in the book. Newsarama V2 #31 is series #147, then N V2 #32 becomes #149 to get back to where the numbers are supposed to be.)

Where links originally appeared in the online columns, endnotes have been substituted, but they’re of limited use. Since Newsarama changed its structure, all of the old links are given as just “classic.newsarama.com”, which won’t aid the reader in finding anything specifically. Other URLs have IP addresses instead of domain names, which means the reader can’t be sure what site is being referred to.

I missed the introductory notes that were included much more frequently in the previous volume, but since this content is newer, it needs less context given. Although by the time I got to 2006, many of the DC titles mentioned were completely unmemorable to me. I think that’s a comment on how superhero comics no longer speak to me, so I don’t follow or recall many of them. Still, Bloodhound? That one rang no bell at all, although it turns out I liked reading it at the time.

The book ends with praise and a pitch for ComicsPro, the new retailer trade group, an implicit way of informing the reader seeking guidance where to go for more. The series found a new home at comicbookresources.com in May 2008.

… or as I call it: Wolverine: The Bloody Red Book, as it appears that the entire book has been dipped in a giant vat of blood. Virtually everything about the outside of book is RED – including the edges of the pages! And it’s probably leftover KISS blood at that – those Marvel guys don’t like to waste anything! So subtle!

Wolverine: Inside the World of the Living Weapon
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Besides, doesn’t “Inside the World of the Living Weapon” sound like a boring science textbook or a guidebook to a long abandoned Disneyworld Tomorrowland ride? “Can you feel the tingle as your DNA is removed and injected directly into that intercontinental ballistic missile?” asks the Lee Majors Audio-Animatronic.

Wolverine: Inside the World of the Living Weapon (sigh) is the brand new guidebook to Marvel’s most popular mutant. And, hey! Isn’t there a new Wolverine movie out really soon? (Good thing too! I think everybody’s done talking about Watchmen.) It’s written by Matthew Manning, writer of many kids’ comics (yay!) for Marvel and DC, as well as contributing to several Marvel-oriented DK publications, the most recent of which is Marvel Chronicle. This new Wolverine tome “reveals, explores, and explains every fascinating twist and turn in the Wolverine story: his mysterious origin (a secret for decades), his incredible powers, significant adventures, personal struggles, and profiles of his lovers, allies, and enemies” according to DK spokestypist P. R. Release.

Although I think if this book could talk, it would say: “I’m the best there is at what I do. But what I do best isn’t always very organized.”

Carrying on the frustrating DK tradition of thinking being “in your face” (what hath Wizard wrought?) is more important than presenting complicated material in a logical, organized manner, the presentation of the book is all over the place. The first 40 pages or so of the book are filled with copycat Wizardesque filler material like “5 Things You Should Know About Wolverine,” “Wolverine Style,” “5 of Wolverine’s Unbelievable Battles”, “Wolverine In Love”, and “Friends and Allies”. A lot of this information is repeated later in the book, usually in more detail, in the meatier history sections, which are a lot more informative than the list-y introductory matter.

On the plus side, at least DK’s design team has calmed down a bit, as the puzzle factor of many of their books (as in “um… what paragraph do I read next?”) is much reduced here. I still have to quibble with the continued use of teeny, tiny, itty, bitty type (8 pt. or less) especially when it’s reversed out against black. It’s not a frikkin’ CD booklet! You’ve got plenty of room! Whatever happened to design helping to communicate ideas instead of getting in their way?

One you get past these annoyances, this is a great little reference book, quite handy for a character like Wolverine whose history has been presented in dribs and drabs for the last 35 years in an ever-increasing number of books. I especially found the Timeline section informative and invaluable. Plus, there is special emphasis on Wolverine’s adventures beyond his usual mutant books: his roles in the Avengers and in mega-stories like Civil War, House of M, and Secret Invasion are well-presented.

Manning’s research is well done. However, some of his writing tries a little too hard and relies a bit too much on current “comicspeak”. Like this groaner in the World War II section: “His life was already a battlefield. The war only made it official.” My advice: look for inspiration and new writing rhythms outside of comics.

I also like the more compact format of the book (9” x 10 3/4”) over the slightly unwieldy larger previous volumes in the Ultimate Guide series. More pages (200 total here) have been added to compensate for the slightly smaller size.

Wolverine: Inside the World of the Living Weapon is, with some minor misgivings, another great DK reference book, covering every aspect of Wolverine that you could ever think of. Except Hugh Jackman. Hmmmm.

(A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

This issue features a column I wrote about the Spire Archie Christian comics. There are also some web extras available, supplementary material to the print edition, including four of the Archie stories from the Spire line. Read them for yourself!

The thing I liked most about Comic Foundry was that it covered things no one else was talking about. The books they profiled were both good-looking and, in many cases, new to me (which is rare). Their coverage made me want to read works like Matt Kindt’s upcoming 3 Story or Gabrielle Bell’s Cecil and Jordan in New York. I found myself having to read the magazine with a notepad nearby to make note of titles to research further.

But it’s not just about the books. The magazine also includes clear-eyed handling of business topics, such as whether or not agents are necessary in comics, plus goofy short bits of fun. Also featured in this issue are interviews with Bryan Lee O’Malley (Scott Pilgrim) and Grant Morrison (Final Crisis).

I’ll really miss this publication. I wish someone would fill its gap, but print is a dying game, and I can’t blame those who are turning their attentions elsewhere.

With volume three, Mechademia has finally hit its stride. This is the first issue without articles plagued by problems either in English grammar or argument construction. Finally, I was able to completely focus on the ideas being presented instead of getting frustrated with the mechanics. Mechademia has achieved a new level of excellence, and I’m going to hold them to this standard from now on.

Mechademia 3
Limits of the Human
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This volume further supports my argument that Mechademia should stop trying to develop a theme for each issue. I know it’s easier to solicit for papers if there are defined guidelines for authors. However, I feel that half of the articles in this volume clearly fall outside the motif of “exploring the limits of what it means to be a human and how these limits of humanness are constantly being redefined”. It takes some very convoluted reasoning to make the articles on manga aesthetics, Lolita fashion, and Taiwanese toy collecting fit the stated theme. This issue demonstrates that, in practice, Mechademia is willing to accept and publish articles that meet their quality standards even if they don’t fit the announced focus. So I say give up the pretext of having an overall arcing theme.

The one essay that I didn’t like was the opening piece by Mark C. Taylor, “Refiguring the Human”. It’s a shame, since I read and enjoyed his book Erring: A Postmodern A/theology in seminary. This essay is filled with circular reasoning and academic jargon. It all sounds profound, but scratch the surface and you find it is all veneer and no substance. I’m sorry to see Taylor’s writing devolve to such a state.

Michael Dylan Foster’s essay, “The Otherworlds of Mizuki Shigeru”, only breaks my heart. It seems that in the last year, everywhere I turn I’m confronted with Shigeru’s manga and art. It all started with the seeing an exhibit of his work and later getting books of the exhibit at the Kinokuniya Bookstore in NYC. Shigeru is not simply one of the great fathers of manga, but he has become a respected cultural authority in Japan. We’re really missing out on a significant author by not having any of his works in English. I hope this grave oversight will be corrected shortly.

Of course, this issue was guaranteed to please me, since there were multiple articles dedicated to two of my favorite creators, Osamu Tezuka and Oshii Mamoru. There are three articles discussing the works of Tezuka. I didn’t always agree with Yomato Inuhiko’s analysis of Tezuka, but he did highlight some interesting connections and deepen my hunger to have all of Tezuka’s works available in English, especially the early works where he was refining his craft. Otsuka Eiji’s essay on the two versions of Tetsuwam Atomu (Astro Boy) is wonderful. Lawrence Bird does a great job with the various versions of Metropolis on film and in print.

Ghost in the Shell 2: Innocence is one of the greatest movies of all time, let alone one of the greatest animated films of all time. It ranks up there with works like Fantasia and The Seventh Seal. Mamoru’s movies are the perfect blend of action and philosophical speculation. In fact, it would be easy to fill up a 500-page book with analysis of Innocence alone. There are two essays dedicated to Innocence in this volume, and it’s no surprise they’re my two favorite pieces. Both Sharalyn Orbaugh and Steven T. Brown write thick analytic pieces that were pure pleasures to read and think through. The philosophy wonk in me was in heaven. I look forward to further work by both authors. I hope at least one of them does a book length treatment of Innocence. I promise to buy the first copy.

Let me also mention the marvelous interview with Crispin Freeman at the end of the volume. Freeman is best know as a voice actor. His roles include Alucard in Hellsing, Hideki Motosuwa in Chobits, Togusa in Ghost in the Shell, and Ebisu in Naruto. He does a lecture called “Giant Robots and Superheroes: Maifestations of Divine Power, East and West” at conventions and universities. His theory is one I completely agree with, that a culture’s vision of a superhero is shaped by the dominant religion of that culture. The differences between the Japanese and American superhero traditions can be explained by the differences in the religious background of the two cultures. After reading this interview, I have to hear this lecture. I’m also hoping the Freeman will develop his thoughts into a book. His ideas are fascinating and I would love to see him explore them to their fullest possibilities.

Four articles were translated from Japanese scholastic writings on manga and anime. I hope that Mechademia will continue to fund translations. I love getting the insider’s perspective on Japanese culture. They’re able to bring to the discussion table a wealth of history and detail in their articles that American scholars haven’t acquired simply because they haven’t lived in Japan all their lives and naturally soaked up the culture.

I don’t want to make light of what Frenchy Lunning and the editors of Mechademia have accomplished in only three issues. They have started a new scholastic journal for an emerging field of academic study and by the third issue have achieve the quality found in other established scholastic journals. I’ve been, and will continue to be, a harsh critic because I care deeply about anime and manga and don’t want the university intelligentsia to think that this is an academic ghetto for people who couldn’t get degrees in ‘real’ subjects. Comics globally, not just in Japan and America, have shown themselves worthy of serious sustained study. I want Mechademia to be proof that comics are a literary form able to explore the deepest and most important aspects of
our humanity. So a heartfelt thank you to Lunning, the editors, and contributors of Mechademia for fighting the good fight. If I have been heated in my criticisms, it’s only in hopes of burning away the dross so the quality of the work can be above reproach.

If you love anime and manga and want to go beyond just the entertainment value of these art forms, then you must get a subscription to Mechademia. It will help you better understand the Japanese culture, history, religion, and philosophy behind these works. Thankfully, Mechademia is easily available through Amazon. You might even try to persuade your local library to subscribe to the magazine if they have a good manga collection. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)