Farewell, Dorothy Parker

They made a book just for MEEEEEEEE! Farewell, Dorothy Parker is the story of how Violet Epps, movie critic, learned to stop being a doormat.

Although she’s strong and confident in her opinions when writing reviews, inspired by the legendary Dorothy Parker, the rest of her life is marred by social phobia. She’s got an overbearing loser of a boyfriend, a self-obsessed work rival, and an orphaned niece, Delaney, whose grandparents are fighting for her custody although Violet and Delaney would be better together. Her inability to say what she really thinks leaves her feeling trapped and worthless.

Then she visits the Algonquin, where she sees the ghost of Mrs. Parker (and her poodle Cliché). Soon Mrs. Parker has followed her home, where the two bond. As the ghost advises Violet, she gets the encouragement she needs to stand up for herself.

This is a somewhat predictable book — of course there’s a handsome kung fu instructor to provide a substitute love interest, and several of the confrontations go better than one might expect in real life — but the journey is so very enjoyable, particularly the dialogue between the two women. Recommended, particularly for any writer who’s enjoyed (or astonishingly, hasn’t yet discovered) the works of Dorothy Parker.

The She-Hulk Diaries

The She-Hulk Diaries is clearly taking a “Sex in the City” approach, described as follows:

Jennifer Walters, aka She-Hulk, juggles climbing the corporate ladder by day and battling villains and saving the world by night — all while trying to navigate the dating world to find a Mr. Right who might not mind a sometimes-very big and green girlfriend.

I’m cynical, but I find that Sex in the City is much too frequently used as a reference by clueless guys who, when asked what women like, know only that property. I hope the book, written by Marta Acosta, captures some of the character’s charm and humor without focusing too much on “a woman’s not complete without a boyfriend”.

(Update: This interview with Acosta is very promising, suggesting that she’s already thought about many of the things that might cause concern.)

Rogue Touch

Rogue Touch, as Anika points out, is aimed at the ever-growing “teen paranormal romance” category, that segment that grew out of wanting to capture some of the success of Twilight. The book is written by Christine Woodward, and the description is full of melodrama:

After accidentally putting her first boyfriend in a coma, [Rogue] runs away from home where she meets the handsome and otherworldly James and sparks fly. Like Rogue, however, James’ life is hardly simple. To elude his mysterious and dangerous family, James shaves his head, dons all black. Stealing a car, they head out on the highway and eventually, Rogue has to decide whether she will unleash her devastating powers in order to save the only man alive who seems to truly understand her.

Although advertised in the Marvels supplement to the latest Previews catalog, the novels have to be ordered in the Books section. Each is a paperback priced at $14.99, due in June. Hyperion’s Editor-in-Chief Elisabeth Dyssegaard was quoted as saying, “Marvel has had tremendous success with recent hit movies, and we think it’s a great time to explore what happens to super heroines when they are dropped into traditional women’s novels.”

What happens? Well, depends on how well the authors respect the conventions of both romance and superhero fiction. These could be great introductions of the characters to a new audience — although one wonders where they’d go next; romance fans certainly aren’t going to find any Marvel comics in that genre — or it could be an embarrassing attempt to exploit brands in ways that aren’t anything more than a cash grab.

Miss Julia Stirs Up Trouble

I believe I was asked to talk about this volume because of its food connection. Miss Julia is a well-meaning upper-class remarried widow in a small North Carolina town, the kind whose Presbyterianism requires good deeds and upholding the way things have always been done while gossiping with women like her and their kitchen help to figure out what’s really going on. In this installment, her neighbor Hazel Marie is overcome by trying to take care of twin babies and her husband while her housekeeper is laid up by a broken wrist. Because Hazel Marie can’t cook, Miss Julia hatches a plan. She’s going to ask the women of the town to come over, fix a meal for Hazel Marie and her family, teach her how it’s done, and assemble the recipes into a cookbook gift.

As we’re told in the first few pages, Hazel Marie is Miss Julia’s dead husband’s mistress, but they’ve since become friends, bonding over Hazel Marie’s son by said adulterer. Because Miss Julia spends the first chapter thinking about everyone who’s a significant player in the book in the kind of internal monologue that’s completely unrealistic but needed for new readers, you can start the series here — but I don’t recommend it. I stopped halfway through the book and got the first volume, Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind, from my library. After reading that, I felt much more aware of who the players were. I would advise anyone interested to start there, since it explains a lot about the cast and their relationships. Plus, that story, which involves a lot of change for Miss Julia and an attempted kidnapping, is more interesting to a reader who doesn’t already care about the characters. By comparison, this book pokes along in a catching-up-with-old-friends fashion.

The recipes are all included, although most of them are the old-fashioned casserole kind. The main dishes all require mixing some things together, then leaving them on the stovetop or in the oven for an hour or two. I haven’t seen so many recipes that use Kitchen Bouquet in years, and it’ll be no surprise that several require cans of soup. All of the vegetables, unless you count onions, also come out of cans.

It’s old-school housewife cooking, where you put dinner together and then finish your cleaning while it cooks. The desserts involve layering store-bought cookies or canned fruit with some whipped cream or, in the one that most stunned me, mixing egg whites, sugar, and crushed Ritz crackers and calling it a pie. On the other hand, you’ll learn to make that Southern celebration staple, cheese wafers. I didn’t see any I wanted to try, although I’m not cooking for a family every day.

The events of the series will feel familiar to anyone who’s white and privileged in the South. These women reminded me of those I’d known, particularly through church, when I lived in North Carolina. Those who aren’t comfortable with those categories may be put off by how stereotypical some of Miss Julia’s attitudes (and those of her friends) can be, particularly about the proper places of men (making the money) and women (looking pretty for them and feeding them). Miss Julia is well-meaning, if overly certain of herself and her beliefs, and there’s a certain amount of humor, but it plays best to those who know and don’t question this milieu. I’m going to give this book to my mother, for example, who will likely enjoy it, but I wouldn’t recommend it to younger readers outside the region. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

A Parent’s Guide
to the Best Kids’ Comics

The book is diverse, including titles in a variety of genres. (Few superheroes, though, since they avoid periodicals, although a handful do get mentioned in collected form.) It’s arranged by grade level, in four sections from Pre-K to eighth grade. Within each section, the books are presented alphabetically.

It’s nicely laid out. Each selection gets its own double-page spread. The left has key information, while the right reproduces a page from the recommended book. The thick gloss paper makes for a heavy book for its size and reproduces the art samples well. The text information includes publisher, publication dates, genre, and format, while the writers made sure to include a “heads up” that indicates whether the work includes any areas of concern, whether violence, name-calling, potty humor, or kissing. Each title also has a “What’s Next…” section that lists similar books as a kind of “if you liked this, try that” continuing recommendation.

I was surprised at how many of the titles I hadn’t heard of, particularly in the section for the youngest readers. I suspect many of them are sold primarily to the educational/library market and/or promoted as children’s books instead of comics. Although many come from book publishers, Top Shelf, Toon, First Second, and Viz, to name a few, are also represented. This would be a good book to take to the library with the kids, or for a comic shop to keep behind the counter to help clerks with recommendations for families.

Right now, the publisher’s website has the book on sale. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

The Illustrated Guide to Criminal Law

He aims for casual and accessible, and he succeeds. This is not a comic — I’d describe it more as a notebook with a few doodles — but it’s a fun read, mostly because Burney is not afraid to have an opinion or a sense of humor. He’s great at picking case studies and examples that are easy to grasp by the everyday person. I particularly liked his motorcycle gang who, when they aren’t kidnapping people, debate the philosophy of Schrodinger’s cat and changing legal theories.

I learned a lot about criminal law, including —

• definitions of crime and punishment, and the reasons for them
• purposes of punishment and why deterrence rarely works
• the scales of intent, culpability and responsibility
• accomplices and conspiracies
• what an excuse defense, like temporary insanity, is
• the myths surrounding entrapment
• justifications, including duress and self-defense, and their limitations

Artistically, Burney’s style is all over the place. Most of the time, it’s a step up from stick figures, but at times, he’s clearly homaging or referencing something. Given the nature of the format, that’s not a problem. The book can be read without looking at the pictures, and the reader will still understand the material, but the images make the concepts more memorable.

My favorite chapter was the one on overcriminalization, which discusses “strict liability” crimes, or those where intent doesn’t matter. These are the kinds of legal rules where people get in trouble whether or not they know the law even exists. You can’t predict what might get you put in prison, in part because no one even knows how many federal crimes there are. There are also problems with legislation written over-broadly. Burney doesn’t take things this far, but others have discussed the problems that arise when anyone could be a criminal without meaning to do anything wrong. It overall leads to an atmosphere where you don’t respect the law or try to do the right thing because how do you know what it is any more?

This is a terrific introduction to a subject that, as Burney points out, it’s become our responsibility to know about. I’m looking forward to seeing the planned sequel, about Criminal Procedure. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Wonder Woman: Power Outage

I liked that there were various puzzles — word finds and mazes, mostly — to solve to provide clues on which option to choose. However, that was the only strong point of this book.

From the beginning, I was put off by the author’s choices. We’re introduced to Wonder Woman as she’s fighting Cheetah. The reader has to choose whether to use “great strength” or “your ability to psychically talk to and calm animals” to battle her. If you choose strength, a power Wonder Woman actually has, then you lose immediately. You have to choose the fuzzy-sounding petsitter choice to advance.

I was most disappointed by the plot premise, involving Wonder Woman intermittently and unpredictably losing her powers. It’s an unfortunate fallback for writers who don’t know how else to deal with superpowered women, to have their abilities become unreliable. After all, it’s unfeminine to challenge villains directly — much easier to have a female hero question and lose faith in herself. Between this and the demonstration that the author is writing about some version of the character I’m not familiar with, I quit the book.

There are 13 endings, of which only one is successful. The others end with defeat in battle or losing your powers or life. I’m not familiar with all the mechanics of these gamebooks, but it feels less like an exploration of possibilities and more like having to figure out the one right path in order to “win”. In fact, on the puzzle answer page in the back, the listing to get to the “right” ending is included.

Various clip-art-looking images of an Adventures-style Wonder Woman (cat eyes and strangely spiky hair) are sprinkled among the pages. No art credit is given, although the character creation is credited to William Moulton Marston. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Techdirt sums up a recent request for courts to declare that Sherlock Holmes is now public domain. Of course, the estate of writer Arthur Conan Doyle wants to claim otherwise, because they’re still making licensing fees from the character. And that’s what drives restrictive intellectual property — there’s nothing easier than letting money roll in from other people’s creativity, over 120 years since the character was first created.

What drove this particular challenge was an upcoming book by Leslie S. Klinger and Laurie R. King. The Conan Doyle estate basically threatened blackmail, demanding their license fee or they’d have the book banned from major sales outlets (who understandably don’t want to get in the middle of legal actions). Klinger (who also wrote the notes for The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes) then filed for declaratory judgment in order to convince his publisher to go forward with the project.

The estate bases its claim on a small number of the original Holmes stories being under copyright until 2022. However, none of the elements we think of as key to the Sherlock Holmes character or mythos were established in those late stories.

Note that Arthur Conan Doyle himself, when asked by actor and playwright William Gillette if Gillette might change the character’s story by marrying him off, responded, “You may marry him, or murder or do what you like with him.” So he wasn’t nearly so precious about his own creation as his heirs are.

I now hold in my hands an actual copy of the first in the series of American Comic Book Chronicles: 1960-1964. I first read and reviewed this book (based on a digital preview copy) way back last August, over at the Westfield blog, and have been waiting patiently while the real thing was obviously on the slowest boat from China ever. It will finally be in comic shops this week, as well as other fine booksellers, and both physically and digitally from the TwoMorrows website. (If you order a physical copy from TwoMorrows, you get a digital copy free.)

Johanna’s asked me to take another look at it, especially since all I’ve talked about lately is this book, and I will be interviewing author John Wells for CWR later this week.

American Comic Book Chronicles:
1960-1964

I stand by my original review, only moreso since I’ve seen the actual, printed book, rather than just text files. Wells and editor Keith Dallas have done an exceptional job of finding great (and often wonderfully obscure) visual material from this era. Old house ads are always fun, as are long-forgotten (but instantly remembered) covers from publishers other than Marvel and DC. They couldn’t have possibly known, but somehow, the graphics folks pulled well over two dozen covers from kids’ comics that I haphazardly bought and read as an actual kid! Graphically, there are also original art reproductions, key comic story panels, behind-the-scenes stuff (like distributor sell sheets), paperback book and LP record covers, and examples of rare fanzines of the era.

While superhero fans may bemoan the lack of their favorite Batman or Spider-Man illos (which are in every other history book about comics), I applaud seeing artwork for The Flintstones, Archie, Dick Tracy, and Batman all sharing the same physical space. It subtly reminds one of what the comic racks of that era actually looked like, and the wide variety of choice in purchasing comic books back then.

I mentioned this in my original review, but I can’t help emphasizing it again: The strength of this book (and hopefully the entire series) lies in covering everything that comic books are about, not just the men in capes. John Wells’ first volume sets a very high bar for not only the rest of this series, but for future comic book histories as well. (Although this is so good, we may not need any more.)

After seeing the bibliography for just this book, it’s obvious that Wells has read pretty much every book, magazine article, interview, and old fanzine about comics that he could put his hands on, in order to bring you everything you need to know about this extremely important period of comic history. That’s an amazing feat in itself! I’m already impatient to read ACBC: 1965-1969 (also by Wells, probably out in spring of 2014) as well as the other volumes in this important series. (Next up: ACBC: The 1980s, written by Keith Dallas, due sometime this spring.)

I do have a couple of extremely minor nit-picks. The text in the yearly timelines is much too tiny to read, at least by old men like me. (The Positive Slant: Man! They crammed those timelines full of great — and obscure — material!) I love the timelines and don’t want them to go away. Maybe they should extend over four pages rather than two. Or run as a “crawl” throughout the whole chapter. As a very minor aesthetic beef, I found it difficult that the text switched back and forth between two and three columns per page. The three-column text is easier to read but more difficult to lay out graphics properly. The two-column text lines aren’t really that much longer to read, compared to the three. (I’m talking nit-picky, design-y, eye-flow stuff here.)

Also, the book’s paper stock is very thin, which unfortunately makes the book look thinner than the amount of actual information crammed into it really is. It’s also dense, so there’s not much bleed-through, so that redeems the thinness somewhat. The book itself gives off an unusual smell, which after a prolonged reading session, either made me wonder if it was toxic, or actually made me high. So, the book may have some “hidden” benefits, beyond the obvious! (The book’s interesting odor apparently wears off after a few days of handling. Bummer. My review copy may have been especially pungent as it was pulled right off the slow boat from China.)

I’ve always thought that to be a real comic book fan, you had to know something of the history of the industry, as well as the stories of the men and women behind the creation of your favorite comic books and strips. American Comic Book Chronicles: 1960-1964 is your one-stop shop for all that and more! See for yourself in a preview available at the publisher’s website. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Horror Comics in Black and White

The introduction provides an excellent capsule history of the format and genre. As he explains, the author, Richard J. Arndt, focuses on publishers of new stories, leaving out magazines based on reprints, recolorations, or redrawings of existing work. He also includes Warren’s Blazing Combat, believing “that a good war story is inherently a good horror story as well.” After the introduction come chapters dedicated to the various publishers.

The first, and longest at 150 pages, covers Warren, starting with Creepy‘s 146 issues and including Eerie and Vampirella. Each title has credits listed and an editorial note pointing out interesting historical facts and background information. The occasional illustrations are mostly limited to cover reproductions. However, since most readers will be more interested in the issue information, it’s not a crippling limitation. Arndt does point readers toward the Grand Comics Database, where all covers can be seen. What sets this book apart from simply being a reprint of the same information found there are the informative comments for each issue. They make the reader want to seek out copies of the magazines to see the particular comics and artists Arndt praises so highly.

(There are some pages of interior art included as well, but reproduction can be a bit smudgy. The first example has a smear in the middle, as though someone moved it on the copy machine while it was running or the glass wasn’t clean.)

Additional chapters cover Skywald Publications, home of Nightmare and Psycho; the Marvel horror mags published from 1971-1983, including Dracula Lives!, Monsters Unleashed!, and many others (but not Conan, Kung Fu, or other adventure titles); and a catch-all chapter that includes Warrior and DC’s Spirit World. There’s also a short section on modern horror comics, current reprint editions, and other books and magazines that cover the subject.

This appears to be a labor of both love and hard work, making for a reputable guide to the topic. In addition to research, the author assembled this information by “reading all the original magazines in total” and interviewing editors and artists who worked on them. Stephen R. Bissette, whose Taboo is mentioned later in the book, provides a personal history about discovering black-and-white horror comic magazines in the foreword. More information is available on the publisher’s website. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Mia and Jake: Finding the One

Mia and Jake: Finding the One
by Sherri Starr
illustrated by Robbie Hildebrand
Sea Hill Press, $14.95

If you want a cute little gift book for a single-but-still-looking friend for Valentine’s Day, Mia and Jake: Finding the One fills the bill. It’s a flip hardcover, almost a picture book for adults, with half telling Mia’s story and the other showing Jake. They’re stereotypically two-dimensional, with Mia trying to find a guy by obsessing over her supposed flaws and seeking out way too much advice from friends and books. Jake, on the other hand, just goes about surfing and hanging out until they meet.

Although pitched as equivalent, this is clearly aimed at women. They’re the only ones who would buy it, for one thing, but more telling, while Mia is introduced as “a pretty happy girl”, we meet Jake as “a great catch”.

The simple figures are cute, with the occasional really funny image, such as the “too hairy” blind date. It is weird when Mia suddenly grows boobs, though, during the Mexico trip section. Her bikini top looks like tennis balls hanging from her arms.

We’re told that Mia is, aside from her search for “The One”, happy and satisfied with life, but you can’t tell it from this book, since its short caption format only allows for a small amount of content. Still, those in similar straits will likely find it comforting.

Eurogames

Eurogames: The Design, Culture and Play of Modern European Board Games
by Stewart Woods
McFarland, $40

This book perfectly sums up the problems with most of McFarland’s publications. It’s an interesting topic, one I’d like to learn more about after being introduced to new-style board games through a co-worker a couple of years ago, but this book won’t do it.

It’s a republished thesis, which means it’s full of definitions and endnotes and citations; instead of talking about the games and how you play them, it’s more about their meaning and history and mechanics. It’s a chore to read. A book about how exciting and imaginative games are should be much more fun, with examples of what people get out of them. But then, that’s asking for a much different publication, a more colorful work with a lot more pictures and a more exciting format.

Most annoyingly, Eurogames has almost no illustrations, and the handful included are in muddy black and white. It’s also ridiculously expensive for what it is. I’m guessing the only people who will buy it are academic libraries and those who have to own it, perhaps as a source for their own research and writing on the topic.

Even worse is something like Role-Playing Game and Collectible Card Game Artists: A Biographical Dictionary, from the same publisher. How can you do a directory of fantasy artists with absolutely no art included? This should have been a website — and much of the information in it is, based on the cites, already available on the internet.

Mathematics: An Illustrated History of Numbers

Mathematics An Illustrated History of Numbers
Edited by Tom Jackson
Shelter Harbor Press, $24.95

This is one of a series of books called “Ponderables: 100 Breakthroughs That Changed History”. Each well-illustrated, attractively designed coffee table book contains a cornucopia of fascinating facts and historical capsules.

Mathematics An Illustrated History of Numbers is, obviously, about math. I found it fascinating. The topics are wide-ranging, from the obvious (such as the invention of zero or the concept of prime numbers or infinity) to the obscure. I’d never heard of the Rhind (Ahmes) Papyrus before, for example, and most have forgotten the slide rule. Some are just party tricks, but still interesting, such as Magic Squares. I particularly liked the more diverse explorations, like the Golden Ratio or the calendar.

Each section is just an overview, as it has to be to get so much material in 140 pages, so this is a starting point, with the interested likely to read further elsewhere. However, the content here will keep you busy for a long while.

The book also contains an end section with definitions, information on types of numbers and proofs, a section on as-yet-unproven problems, and profiles of famous mathematicians (all men). There’s a 12-page removable timeline history of math in a pocket on the back cover as well. The backside has some mathematical puzzles, including a lot of the digits of pi and a Mandelbrot image.

Channel Surfing: Wonder Woman
Cover art by Glen Hanson

Because it’s self-published, it’s subject to the usual caveats. There were many more typos than I’d like in the text, which at times made reading a chore, and the book could use a copy-editing pass or three to clean up some of the phrasing. I saw duplicate paragraphs and missing ends of sentences and spaces in the middle of words. Alternately, there’s a certain slap-dash appeal that can be seen as attempting to capture the unbridled enthusiasm of a devoted fan. Also, print-on-demand books don’t age well; in the half year since I received it, the covers have begun curling badly, til they’re now at a 45-degree angle from flat.

The content is full of fun facts, with various bits of trivia scattered throughout to break up the main text. It begins with a history of the Wonder Woman character on television, leading up to her show’s debut in 1975. There are interviews with Carter, producer Douglas S. Cramer, producer (of the planned theatrical WW film) Leonard Goldberg, Stella Stevens, and others, as well as a list of Wonder Woman references in other TV shows, information on fan websites, and discussion of Carter’s singing career. A recurring topic is asking a number of gay semi-celebrities about their opinion of some aspect of the character.

However, much of the material is presented in a fashion that assumes we know almost as much about the topics as the author does. References are confusing in some cases, and subjects are discussed without clear introduction. Typical of an unauthorized work, there aren’t any pictures from the show itself. The few images are either modern, taken by the author, or fan art illustrations.

Lynda Carter and author Mike Pingel in 2007

The episode guide section is a poor substitute for IMDB. For each, there’s a plot description, two or three sentences each about notable guest stars, and a few bullet points of trivia. Obvious elements may be omitted — for example, in the writeup for episode two, “Wonder Woman Meets Baroness Von Gunther”, the name of the actress playing Von Gunther, Christine Belford, is never mentioned. I can’t envision any purpose I’d use this section for. It’s not entertaining enough to be a fun read on its own, and if I’m watching the show myself, what do I need someone else’s notes for?

It’s a shame that an obviously beloved subject isn’t presented more clearly and professionally, but it appears the author got too caught up in his love for Wonder Woman to share it with us well. (The author provided a review copy.)

Crockett Johnson and Ruth Krauss

And don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed reading it. (All the more so since I’m still looking forward to the upcoming Fantagraphics reprint of Barnaby, now due in March or April. This book’s author, Philip Nel, is co-editing that book.) I found it fascinating that a number of leftists, finding it hard to get work elsewhere, moved into children’s literature in the 1950s. The genre wasn’t considered at all important, certainly not enough to police the authors, especially since so many of them were women.

I also didn’t realize that so many books I think of as classics (Narnia titles, Charlotte’s Web, various Dr. Seuss books) came out in that decade. Since I came along after, for me, they’d always existed. One was Harold and the Purple Crayon (and its six sequels), wonderful little illustrated volumes that demonstrate the possibilities of creativity, the ways imagination can be made real, and new ways to look at the world. (Note that the first Harold book came out in 1955, the same year as the similarly weird cartoon Duck Amuck.) Due to the timing of the baby boom, books for kids were having new heights of success.

Ruth Krauss’ breakthrough, it turns out, was creating books for kids that were expressed in their language and from their perspective, a distinction that’s particularly hard to recognize these days, since we’re so unfamiliar with the didactic, moralistic works that were the trend preceding. She was a struggling artist, occasional pulp writer, and anthropology student (training that informed her works in teaching kids anti-prejudice) before the two met in 1939; their later marriage was the second for both. The thing I’ll remember most about her was a brief mention of how she had “after-dinner narcolepsy”, sometimes falling asleep on the living room floor while entertaining guests after meals. (Doesn’t everyone get sleepy after a big dinner?) I thought I didn’t know any of her works, but it turns out I Can Fly was illustrated by Mary Blair (a favorite) and recently reprinted.

Johnson’s Barnaby comic strip, his first major work, ran from 1942-1952, although Johnson left at the end of 1945 and returned as the writer only in September 1947. It’s a cartoonist’s strip (the same way Leonard Cohen is a musician’s musician), full of subtle humor and cultural commentary, a specialized taste, never that popular, with a peak of 52 papers. It was the first comic to always use typeset dialogue, a choice I don’t always care for, but the author sees it as another sign of Johnson’s love of precision. Although a handful of strips are included in this book, the reproduction is light, which makes them somewhat hard to read. For a better idea of why the series was appealing, you’ll have to get the book dedicated to it. Before the strip, Johnson created radical progressive political cartoons for anti-fascist groups that arose as a reaction to the Depression but were considered highly suspicious by the red-baiting 50s.

Today’s readers may not understand why peace was such an unpopular subject during that past period of growing militarism and anti-communism, to the extent that those wishing for it were considered risks to be enemies of the state. So were those who thought society should be racially integrated. Now, it all seems a little silly. It’s also a sign of the times (that sadly hasn’t been fully corrected in society) that when the couple first worked on a book together (1945′s The Carrot Seed), the publisher didn’t understand why promoting the work as illustrated by Crockett Johnson and “written by his wife” was demeaning and upsetting.

As the book continues to follow their lives, there’s information on Krauss’ move into poetry and plays while Johnson began painting geometric theorems and discovered new math formulas through his visual explorations. (More reproductions of these would have also been appreciated. There are not nearly enough examples and illustrations included for a book about artists.) I found their story interesting as an example of how to build an artistic career and continually reinvigorate the creative impulse. What do you do after becoming a success? If you’re these two, you try a new field.

Given the author’s background in children’s literature studies, it’s not surprising that I left the book feeling that knew her more than him. Plus, she outlived him, which also means that more time is spent with her. The most lasting effect this biography will have on me will be the impulse to re-read my Harold books, which isn’t a bad thing at all. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Although not as well known as other animation studios like Disney or Warner Brothers or even their contemporaries Hanna-Barbera, Filmation produced a huge number of hit shows and cult classics during the time they were in business, from 1963 to 1989. TwoMorrows’ new book, Lou Scheimer: Creating the Filmation Generation, tells the origins, history, and secrets of this largely unknown but much beloved animation studio.

Lou Scheimer:
Creating the Filmation Generation

Founded by producers Lou Scheimer and Norm Prescott, and with director Hal Sutherland, Filmation would be involved in the production of several early animated projects. Their works include Rod Rocket, Journey Back to Oz, and Pinocchio in Outer Space, while also producing animation for commercials as well as a series of animated films on the life of Christ. This is notable, as Filmation went on to become distinguished for producing many series with strong moral bases or “life lessons” for their young viewers.

Their big break came in 1966, when DC Comics editor Mort Weisinger approached the studio to create a series. The New Adventures of Superman became extremely popular ratings-wise and was influential in creating the Saturday morning superhero “boom” of the late 1960s. Filmation was also responsible for other DC characters’ cartoons, including Aquaman (1968), Batman and Robin (1968), and other DC characters in minor roles including Superboy, Justice League (and many of its members), and the Teen Titans. Filmation also produced the live action Shazam! and Secrets of Isis shows in 1974-75.

In 1968, Filmation had another comic-book-based hit with The Archie Show, based on the never-aging teenagers from Riverdale. This was as successful as Superman, as this show led to many spin-offs, all produced by Filmation:

• The Archie Comedy Hour (1969)
• Archie’s Funhouse (1970)
• Archie TV Funnies (1971)
• The U.S. of Archie (1974)
• and The New Archie and Sabrina Hour (1977).

The latter propelled a once-minor Archie character to stardom, first in Sabrina and the Groovie Goolies (1970), then Sabrina the Teenage Witch (1971–1974). Archie Comics returned the favor by publishing a few comic book stories featuring Scheimer, Prescott, and The Archies music producer Don Kirshner.

Perhaps the most beloved series produced by Filmation was Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids (1972 CBS), which was so popular that it seemed like it ran on Saturday morning for decades. Also popular at that time was Star Trek: The Animated Series (1973–1974), as it included most of the cast voices from the original live-action show.

In the 1980s, Filmation had huge success with He-Man and the Masters of the Universe (1983–1985) and spin-off She-Ra: Princess of Power (1985–1987). The former series features early work from writers J. Michael Straczynski and Paul Dini.

All in all, Filmation produced over 50 animated series, as well as numerous specials and movies. They did a lot of animated programs based on other media, including

• Journey to the Center of the Earth (1967)
• Fantastic Voyage (1968)
• The Brady Kids (1972–1974)
• Lassie’s Rescue Rangers (1973–1975)
• The New Adventures of Gilligan (1974)
• Gilligan’s Planet (1982)
• Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle (1976)
• The New Adventures of Flash Gordon (1979–1980)
• and The Original Ghostbusters (1986–1988).

Plus, they dabbled in live-action, most notably with the cult SF show Jason of Star Command (1979). Filmation even teamed up with some Warner Brothers greats in Daffy Duck and Porky Pig Meet the Groovie Goolies (1972).

All of these are examined in depth in Lou Scheimer: Creating the Filmation Generation, the first book devoted to telling the studio’s history. It’s 288 pages (with a 16-page full-color section), packed with history and secrets. Much is said about the “family” atmosphere of the working studio and the sadness of having to close the studio in 1989, mostly due to corporate indifference and changing tastes in animation.

Scheimer is a great storyteller, and the book is worth getting just for that. But be warned, it’s often a frustrating read, because Scheimer often jumps around from subject to subject, as most people do when being interviewed over a long period of time.

The book often seems like reading one long interview transcription. There are two schools of thought on handling such: one wants to change nothing, other than light grammatical editing, to capture exactly what the interviewee said. The other has an editor helping the interviewee by organizing their thoughts in a more linear (or chronological) manner, moving sections of the narrative to areas where they make more sense or are more conversational. This book features the first method, which is fine for shorter interviews, but with a decade-spanning long history like this one, I think a little tighter editing would have been more appropriate to bring more clarifying elements together. Granted, the jumping around may be part of Scheimer’s charm, but it makes going back to reread about a specific era or show more difficult, knowing there might be different elements on the same subject in other chapters. Given the approach, an index might have been helpful in a book of this size.

Visually, the book is a treat, starting with the cover of Scheimer surrounded by all of his animated stars. There are a huge number of photographs, production drawings, finished artwork, designs, and studio ephemera. I especially enjoyed seeing the infamous “six-fingered Spock” drawing from the Star Trek series, even if it wasn’t identified as such. The color section includes interpretations of popular Filmation characters by current artists including Adam Hughes, Alex Ross, Frank Cho, Bruce Timm, Phil Jimenez, and Gene Ha.

Small misgivings aside, Lou Scheimer: Creating the Filmation Generation would make an excellent addition to any animation, television, or comic book history bookshelf. There is so much information in this book simply not available anywhere else.

The book is available digitally from the publisher; they’ve also posted a lengthy PDF preview. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

This is a topic I’m thrilled to see getting more attention, since the best-looking comics still need to have something to say. The book consists of four substantial sections:

1. Building Stories — tools to generate ideas and how to write scripts
2. Sharpening Focus — perspective, style, and construction for different platforms
3. Black & White and Color; On Paper and on Screen — an unwieldy title for a section about webcomics, lettering, inking, toning, and coloring, either by hand or by computer
4. Self-Publishing and Getting Yourself Published — cover design, technology options, and how to get your work in front of readers

Mastering Comics

As you can see, these are subjects you need to consider to actually put together a comic once you’ve gotten past the basics of drawing. It’s not about producing the work so much as what you do with it to make it professional.

Abel and Madden smartly include a short Preface that answers all the basic questions: the audience the book is aimed for, whether you need to read their previous book (no, but you need to know the basics of making comics), and how they’ve structured the volume, including homework and longer projects. If you follow all the activities, by the end of working your way through the book, you’ll have your own minicomic.

As a non-artist, I found this an invaluable collection of both ideas to generate creativity and in-depth knowledge about the medium. I learned a lot of useful terminology, but more significantly, new ways to think about and analyze comics.

I was impressed with their willingness to acknowledge “the horror of the blank page”, one of the starting points. There are so many good tips in this book, from notes on what can’t be drawn to comments about the need for research to the importance of keeping up with your schedule. They move from sensible basics — such as how to format a script — to key concepts — like how professionals meet their deadlines — confidently and easily.

The book is very well-organized and arranged in such a way that it’s easy to jump just to the sections that interest you or that you need to re-read. There are plenty of informative illustrations to demonstrate the lessons and points. I like how open the authors are to new technologies. They don’t promise to know what the future will bring, but they’re aware that the questions are important to consider and that we’re facing a number of turning points in terms of distribution. It’s also a huge plus that their examples and influences are so diverse.

Don’t take my word for how good this book is — Ben Towle, actual artist and instructor, also praises it highly. As before, the book’s website has more information. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Pretty in Ink:
American Women Cartoonists
1896-2013

Fantagraphics sent out its catalog for next year, and among all the wonderful books of classic reprints and alternative cartoonists, I discovered a new prose work I’m going to be very curious to see. Trina Robbins is writing Pretty in Ink: American Women Cartoonists 1896-2013, billed as “her ultimate book, a revised, updated and rewritten history of women cartoonists, with more color illustrations than ever before, and with some startling new discoveries”. Among which is finding out that someone Robbins previously wrote about was really a guy!

She’ll be covering Lily Renee, of course, as well as Ramona Fradon, Dale Messick, Lynda Barry, Carol Tyler, Phoebe Gloeckner, Linda Medley, and many others. I’m excited to see what’s being termed “her most comprehensive volume to date”. It’s $29.99, due out at the end of summer 2013.

Bimbos of the Death Sun

Let me back up. I’m still unpacking the various boxes of books arising from our move in August. (When you have over a dozen bookcases and need more to hold all the volumes, it’s not a quick process.) Yesterday, I finished all the science fiction and mystery, which included an old favorite of mine, Bimbos of the Death Sun. It’s an entertaining little story about a murder at a science fiction convention. The detective winds up being the nice but naive engineering professor who has written a serious, hard science SF novel about sunspots affecting computers and creating gender-linked effects that was tagged by the publisher with the ridiculous title of the book.

There are many many shots taken at fandom and fen, but clearly from a position of knowledge and familiarity. In a different tone, it would be savage. Since it was written in 1988, it’s also pretty funny to read about how confused half the characters are about computers.

However, I hadn’t remembered that there were only two main female characters. One, the professor’s sort-of girlfriend, is a literature professor who also teaches SF; she’s his guide through the culture and ends up showing him, among many other things, how to run an RPG campaign. She’s described as having “finally reached the stage of accepting herself as both smart and pretty.”

The other, Brenda Lindenfeld, is a fat girl with some costuming skill — she first appears as a pathetic contestant in the costume contest, “a fierce-looking redhead who might have outweighed the average calf” and whose dress would have been pretty if it was “ten sizes smaller”. Her ability is not mentioned as the book goes on, once Brenda latches onto a skinny, obnoxious, virgin nerd. She needs a room to stay in and someone to pay for her meals, and he’s her ticket, even though she finds him boring and unattractive. But once she finds out he’s studying computer science, she’s determined to get pregnant to keep him around so he’ll get her a big-screen TV.

Look at that! It’s a woman hanging around a con just to entrap and exploit guy geeks. Isn’t that what everyone was afraid of? And 24 years ago, to boot! And written by a female author! Only problem is, even this exploitative “femmefan” (as the girls are referred to) gets something out of SF and reads the works on her own, enjoying the escapism that lets her forget how unhappy she is with herself. So she doesn’t even qualify as “fake” all that much.

Don’t worry, the guys in this book don’t come off much better. Their physical appearances aren’t mentioned as often, but it’s pointed out that even the con organizers are janitors and grocery store stockers in the “mundane” world. Everyone in the book, from the popular series writer who hates his books, his character, and the fans (but loves the money) to the fan couple getting married in Star Trek costume, is a stereotype of some kind. Only Marion, the SF teacher, comes off as three-dimensional, although she’s hard on fandom because she’s still embarrassed by the geeky kid she was.

The Biggest Little Hero	The Cat Crime Club	Deep-Sea Duel

The Biggest Little Hero, written by John Sazaklis, introduces the Atom’s pet dog, Spot. Unlike many of the other volumes, this one starts with the hero’s origin, retelling how Ray Palmer creating a shrinking ray from a dwarf star. The jealous Dr. Zeul enlarges herself to become Giganta in response, with guest appearances by Apache Chief and Patches the giraffe. This one’s unusual for the line in that the human heroes and villains get as much “screen time” as the pets.

The Cat Crime Club, written by Steve Korte, features the return of the Space Canine Patrol Agents, as Krypto the Super-Dog helps the intergalactic pooches catch the evil felines who aim to steal charity money. Old-school comic fans will love this one, with all the wacky powers and Red Kryptonite.

Deep-Sea Duel, written by John Sazaklis, I’ve already talked about.

The Fantastic Flexy Frog	Night of the Scaredy Crows	Swamp Thing vs the Zombie Pets

The Fantastic Flexy Frog, written by Michael Dahl, gives Plastic Man a pet amphibian who looks terrific in the red-with-yellow-stripe leotard and goofy goggles worn by his master. Kroc has stolen a vacation hotel’s lagoon, and Plastic Frog faces off against piranhas, poison darts, and the evil snake Anna Conda. This is the one I’d most like to see a sequel to.

Night of the Scaredy Crows, written by Sarah Hines Stephens, pits Ace the Bat-Hound against the Scarecrow’s pet Croward and the Scaredy Crows. This would have been perfect to read a couple of weeks ago — it’s very Halloween-ish. In fact, the plot involves the crows scaring people out of celebrating the spooky holiday so they can steal all the candy. My favorite part was the last page, with a Bat-Family picture that includes Batman, Batwoman, Batwing, Batgirl, Nightwing, Robin the robin, the Batcow, and more.

Swamp Thing vs the Zombie Pets, written by John Sazaklis, is a great choice to end on, because it’s so weird. Walking pile of leaves Swamp Thing is hanging out with the Down Home Critter Gang: Starlene the raccoon, Mossy the skunk, Loafers the basset hound, and Merle the possum. (I expected Deputy Dawg to wander by any minute.) Solomon Grundy and his zombie Undead Pet Club try to invade, but the critters, helped by Ace the Bat-Hound, find a better solution. But before then, we get to see Batman smiling and shaking hands with Swamp Thing!

The Revolution Was Televised

Old friend and well-respected TV critic Alan Sepinwall has just announced his new book, The Revolution Was Televised: The Cops, Crooks, Slingers and Slayers Who Changed TV Drama Forever. It’s a combined essay/interview book covering the well-respected shows (and critic favorites) Oz, The Sopranos, The Wire, Deadwood, The Shield, Lost, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, 24, Battlestar Galactica, Friday Night Lights, Mad Men, and Breaking Bad. I watched only two of those shows, but that’s a great selection to capture the revitalization of television drama.

It’s available now for the Kindle, with a paperback coming in a few weeks. For me, it’s going to be a must-read. (I’ll just have to get over the missing comma after “Slingers”.) I hope I hope I hope there’s another coming about comedy in the future, discussing shows like Community.

Back Issue #61, out November 14, is planned to cover the oversized “Tabloids and Treasuries” comics of the 1970s (and the similarly-sized Alex Ross issues last decade). To suit the subject, this issue is being printed in that size, with 84 color pages for $10.95.

In addition to articles on the best-known examples of the format, such as Superman vs. the Amazing Spider-Man, they’re promising a “checklist of all the reprint treasury editions.” While my collector side bemoans the fact that I’ll have to find someplace special to store this tabloid-sized issue, my whimsical side loves suiting the format to the content. There’s a PDF preview of the issue available at the link.

Star Trek: The Complete Unauthorized History

Star Trek: The Complete Unauthorized History is a large, attractive hardcover with plenty of photographs, most of them of memorabilia from the collection of book editor Scott Pearson. They nicely substitute for the lack of official photographs of the cast or sets. Those interested in this book already know what they look like, anyway, although I would have appreciated the visual reminders of certain mentioned episodes. I also missed seeing the movie posters, and particularly, cast photos from the later shows, which I didn’t watch.

The text covers the show from its mid-60s debut on TV through the cartoon, conventions, books, and the movies — including the most recent reboot film — as well as the additional series Star Trek: The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager, and Enterprise. Sidebars inclue reminiscences from fans of key moments and memories, including fanfic and other writing for and about the show.

Because it’s unauthorized, you’ll see mention of Gene Roddenberry’s “propensity for extramarital affairs” as well as mentions of his broken promises to staffers and personality clashes among the actors. Even with the more unpleasant bits of history, this is a loving remembrance from a long-time fan that specifically appreciates the contributions of those who’ve enjoyed the show over the years.