Crumb doesn’t follow any organized religion; in fact, he might be an atheist. In the introduction, he tells us that he doesn’t believe that the Bible is the Word of God, or even inspired by God. Yet he strove to produce the most straightforward, faithful-to-the-text, illustrated version of Genesis. And succeeded. Every word found in the Biblical text is included in Crumb’s version. Further, Crumb didn’t make up additional dialogue or narrative scenes. What you get is the Biblical text and nothing but the Biblical text.

The Book of Genesis
Illustrated by R. Crumb
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Let’s talk briefly about the translation of Genesis used. The majority of the text comes from Robert Alter’s translation, but Crumb did edit and revise the translation where he thought he could make it read more smoothly. For some revisions, he used the King James version of Genesis, and some wording is original to Crumb himself. What we have is a perfectly fine translation. There are no major alterations or radical word changes. Crumb stays as faithful to the original text as any other editor.

Now on to the part everyone is really interested in, the artwork. Here I think I might disappoint some people: I wasn’t shocked or scandalized by what I found in Crumb’s drawings. I’m very familiar with the Biblical text and familiar enough with Crumb’s work to know what I could expect before I opened the book. I knew that Adam and Eve walked around the garden naked in chapter 3. I knew that Crumb was going to draw them both in all their glory. And he did. There are no low-hanging branches, no hiding behind bushes, and no conventionally placed hands and arms. I’m well aware that in chapter 19, Lot gets drunk and has sex with his daughters. Sure enough, Crumb draws the incestuous copulations. The couple isn’t making love under the blankets, there are no well-placed shadows, and no use of shadows on the wall. You see what they’re doing in full detail.

Crumb’s lack of modesty and decorum is certain to upset conservative Christians, Jews, and Muslims. But the cover comes with “Adult Supervision Recommended for Minors” and “The First Book of the Bible Graphically Depicted! NOTHING LEFT OUT!” advisories. So even if a reader is unfamiliar with who R. Crumb is, they can’t say they weren’t amply warned. Let’s be honest, Christian bookstores won’t be stocking this next to other illustrated versions of the Bible; they won’t be stocking this at all.

Other people who might be scandalized are people unfamiliar with the Biblical text. Genesis is the story of God’s relationship with fallen humanity. Adam’s son, Cain, commits the first murder. Noah gets drunk and passes out naked. Abraham is so scared of Pharaoh that he lets Pharaoh marry his wife with any word of protest. We’ve already mentioned Lot’s incest. Laban and Jacob are competing con artists. And Jacob’s sons sell one of their own, Joseph, into slavery because they’re jealous of all the attention he gets. It’s all there in the text, humanity at its best and its worst. Heroes of faith with fears, doubts, and flaws just like the rest of us.

There are several things I like about Crumb’s version. First, he makes the genealogy passage of chapter 11 an enjoyable read. This is something Francoise Mouly brought out in her discussion of the book with Crumb. He does it simply and effectively. While the text is telling us who begat whom, Crumb shows us scenes of daily life around 3,000 BC. This really brings to life the names being listed. It also brings out the passage of time. As we look at grandparents cuddling grandchildren, villages making sacrifices to gods, and couples dancing, the passing centuries become more tangible. We understand that the lives of generations of people, much like ours, is quickly passing by. Crumb brought poignancy to the passage for me.

Second, Crumb does a great job creating a believable bronze age world. This isn’t Cecil B. DeMille’s sparkling clean, perfectly groomed vision of the Bible. The people in Crumb’s version sweat, get dirty, have disheveled hair, etc. They aren’t always the most attractive people. They all don’t get old gracefully and with dignity. This is a world of body odor, dusty trails, hard labor, animal smells, blazing hot days, freezing nights, etc. It’s a world where the most advanced technology is the wheel, the sword, pulleys, and carving tools. You understand how difficult life was for the people in those times. It’s amazing to think of the cities and monuments they built with just the muscle of men and beasts.

Third, the attention to detail helps makes some passages easier to understand. The best example is in the Joseph saga (chapters 37 and 39 thru 50). Just reading the text, you wonder why Joseph’s brothers don’t recognize him when they meet him in Egypt. Crumb shows you how radically different Joseph looked from the last time they saw him. When his brothers see him in Egypt, he looks just like any other Egyptian high official. He is not only wearing Egyptian clothes, but he is clean-shaven, has an Egyptian hair style, and has Egyptian mannerisms. There is nothing about him to suggest he was ever the son of a nomadic shepherd. Here, Crumb’s illustrations function like a commentary to make explicit what is hidden in the text.

There are a couple of charming idiosyncrasies to Crumb’s choices. First, Crumb uses the stereotypical Western depiction of God. I’m reminded of how men like Michelangelo, William Blake, and Albercht Durer painted or drew Him. God has powerful features and long, flowing white hair and beard. Most people will find the image instantly recognizable. Second, Crumb makes most of the important women of Genesis look like his wife, Aline. Eve, Sarah, and Rachel all look alike. It’s a touching demonstration of how much he loves his wife but makes for some odd reading.

Beyond any doubt, Crumb is an incredibly skilled draftsmen. The pen work in this book is marvelous. You could use this book to illustrate figure drawing, what perfect cross-hatching looks like, and how to pay attention to the smallest details. There are no shortcuts taken in this book. Each panel is meticulously drawn. Foreground and background characters are fully rendered. Thinking about the time and energy it would take to do just one panel makes you appreciate the immerse labor it took to complete the entire book.

I’m not sure who the audience for this book would be. Mouly mentioned this was the first time she had actually read the book of Genesis, so I’m thankful to Crumb for making this Biblical book accessible to a new audience. Certainly, Crumb’s current fans will enjoy this work.

I actually would like all Christians to read the book, because of how real and human it makes the great heroes of faith. They worked hard, got tired, made mistakes, made love, got old, and died just like everyone else. They weren’t insulated from the harsh realities of this world. And in the midst of daily living, they developed a lasting relationship with God that formed the foundation of our own faith today. Crumb’s faithfulness to the text is able to flesh out the daily ordinary live of the patriarchs without diminishing the extraordinary nature of their faith. Honestly, and perhaps ironically, I don’t think anyone else could have accomplished that incredible feat.

Crumb’s Genesis is truly a remarkable book. I’d like everyone to experience a chapter or two of book so they could judge for themselves if the book is appropriate for them. Like Genesis itself, this book is a mix of the sacred and the profane. Not everyone will find that to their liking. However, I sincerely believe it’s worth the effort to read the book, at least once.

NPR posted the first five pages of the book, while Boing Boing has chapter 19, the story of Lot and his daughters in Sodom, as well as a video flip-through.

(The publisher provided a review copy.)

Artie and the Knights face a dilemma: they need to raise $300 to replace the broken windshield on Principal Dagger’s car. The grand prize for the Dueling Dragons Robot Tournament is $300. The problem is that Joe and the Horde always win the tournament by bullying one of the smartest kids in school into building them an undefeatable robot. Artie then finds out there may be an easy way to insure their victory, but it may not be the right decision. Meanwhile, Percy never seems to be around and is upset that Artie has entered the Knights in the robot tournament. Will Artie and the Knights make the right choices? And if they do, does that mean losing the robot duel?

Knights of the Lunch Table:
The Dragon Players
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This is the second book in the Knights of the Lunch Table series. Whereas the first volume had a lot for both parents and kids to enjoy, this volume is more focused on the younger readers.

It’s a morality tale that’s practical to all areas of life. The big decision that Artie has to face is whether he is willing to win at any cost or will he compete fairly and risk losing. Embedded in this decision is the question of how Artie is going to live his life in general. Is he simply going to take the path of least resistance, or is he willing to work hard, make sacrifices, and do what’s right? In this regard, the book reminds me of Merlin’s lessons in T.H. White’s The Once And Future King.

Cammuso does a great job of making Artie’s world and his choices very realistic. The bad guy, Joe, gets away with a lot because kids are too scared to tell on bullies for fear of getting beat up. Seeing Joe and his buddies getting away with so much makes it harder for Artie and the Knights to choose the more difficult and morally correct path. None of the adults seem to be aware of what’s going on. However, Artie and the Knights aren’t completely left to their own devices.

Like his name sake, Mr. Merlyn gives Artie both the advice he needs and the freedom to make his own decisions. He puts into words the lessons that Artie’s other mentor, the magical locker, can only hint at. It’s the locker that leads Artie to Evo to see what happens when you always choose the easy way to success and get caught. It’s the locker that also gives Artie the book on how to build robots. You have to wonder about the relationship between Mr. Merlyn and the locker.

The lesson Artie and the Knights learn is one that we as adults need to be reminded of, too. It’s easy to get so fixated on achieving your goals that you lose your moral compass. In your obsession, you make decisions with real consequences that you will come to regret. Sometimes you spend the rest of your life living with the fallout of just one bad choice. Making the right decision is never simply an autonomic response. We’re constantly faced with new challenges that force us to stop and think what direction we want to take with our lives. The book is a great reminder that doing the right thing is a lifelong struggle.

There is one minor flaw in this volume. At one point in the story, we’re told that there are four teams signed up for the robot tournament. When we actually get to the tournament itself, however, the only teams competing are the Knights and the Horde. What happened to the other two teams? Part of what upsets me is that I was really looking forward to two rounds of robot competition and only got one. So I’m feeling a little cheated myself.

My other complaint is that I wish Gwen was used more often in this book. She’s the only female member of the Knights and often the voice of reason. Artie and the Knights take her for granted. We never get to see her and Artie working on the robot together. I’m hoping that she’ll have a bigger presence in the next book and step out of the background to become a major character.

Although aimed mostly at kids, there are some things for the parents, too. The opening three pages are an amazing foreshadowing, motif setup, and summary of the book all in one. You have to go back and reread those pages after you finish the book to see how well those first three pages are crafted.

I’m also a fan of what I call the Lunch Ladies from Macbeth. They only get a couple of pages in each book, but they are so wonderfully kooky. I love the off-kilter rhyming and how it all seems non-sequitur and yet makes sense at the same time. It’s a masterful stroke to combine prophecy and comic relief in the same persons, without ruining the integrity of either character type.

Cammuso’s art is delightful. The use of thick lines and bright primary colors make this an eye-catching book. The pages are well laid out and make for easy reading. My favorite pages are the ones where the entire page itself is one panel with smaller panels inserted. I’d like to see that layout used a little more often. Cammuso is also excellent at expressing emotions. You can feel Artie’s awkwardness when he’s called to speak with Mr. Merlyn after class. Percy’s frustration at being bullied really jumps off the page. Just like the first volume, this is a book you can just flip through and enjoy visually for its own sake.

Knights of the Lunch Table: The Dragon Players is a great all ages book. I hope that Cammuso and Scholastic will continue with the series. I recommend the series to anyone looking for well-written kids comics that can deliver a message through a truly entertaining story instead of just moralizing. I look forward to the further adventures of Artie and the Knights. You can preview the first three pages of this book at the publisher’s website.

In Bob Dylan Revisited, a new oversized art book, 13 leading international illustrators present their interpretations of famous Bob Dylan lyrics, from throughout his 40-plus-year career as America’s leading troubadour and visionary.

Bob Dylan Revisited
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Like Dylan’s songs, there are no explanations or introductions to guide your way, other than a literal reprinting of the actual song lyrics. Then, each of the artists take off into their own imaginations. Some are quite literal, like Gradimir Smudja’s raw interpretation of Hurricane, Dylan’s song of the trials of boxer Rubin “Hurricane” Carter. Some are lyrical in print, like François Avril’s cinematic Girl From the North Country. And some are just out there, like Dave McKean’s, which starts off as a reasonably literal depiction of Desolation Row and ends up in another place altogether — with a couple of interesting side trips, to boot.

Most of the pieces are sequential — not really surprising, as Dylan is a master storyteller himself. Dylan himself appears in a couple of the works, like Christopher’s 1960s love story of life and loss in NYC’s Greenwich Village in Positively 4th Street, and Zep’s wonderful interpretations of the man himself throughout his years and many reincarnations in his take on Not Dark Yet. Actually, each artist here takes a stab at interpreting Dylan himself in a fascinating series of illustrations that accompany the printed lyrics.

These artists are brave souls, putting down on paper or canvas their ideas of one of folk, rock, pop, country, and blues’ most frequently impenetrable chroniclers of life through song. Because of this, it’s a fair bet that many of their interpretations of these now-beloved songs won’t be the same as yours, which makes them all the braver. Still, like Dylan himself, it’s a fascinating journey.

Bob Dylan Revisited is due out November 16. A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.

The Heart of Juliet Jones
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It’s the story of two small-town sisters, sensible brunette Juliet and flirtatious blonde Eve. Their widowed dad, Pops, tries to take care of them, but Juliet often acts more as mother to Eve than sister. In the storylines here, Juliet gets dis-engaged, causes family trouble among the local rich folks when their son falls for her, helps a doctor marry a movie star, guides her father through a business deal with a fast-talker, sends her sister to college, and gets a childcare provider married off. But that’s not all! She also prevents a gold-digging nurse from taking advantage of Pops during an illness and watches Eve navigate her first real job at the local department store, where the boss’ son has his eye on her.

The opening 20-some pages of this book provide a great overview of why the comic was collected, thanks to an introduction by Leonard Starr and a history by Armando Mendez. The appeal is the art of Stan Drake, described as “naturalistic” and focusing on realistic emotion captured through photo reference. (He was an early Polaroid user.) And it is gorgeous, full of movement as characters react to each other, and with the kind of detail you don’t see on the comic page any more. The art style is slick, influenced by magazine and advertising styles of the time. The girls are simply beautiful, and it’s a pleasure to see their emotional struggles. Drake later went on to draw Blondie from 1984 to 1997.

Volume 2 of this series was released earlier this summer, with Volume 3 and a collection of color Sunday strips planned for next year. Drake continued drawing the strip through 1989, and after another artist took over, it was ended in 2000. Given its long run, I was surprised I’d never heard of it before seeing this book, but that made it a fun, fresh read. It’s a welcome addition to the ever-growing shelf of classic comic strip reprints. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Things Undone
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But I did read the book, because I really really like the art style Shane White uses for the main characters. Although the first couple of pages (and other backgrounds throughout the book) show that he’s capable of drawing in a more realistic style, the cast is so exaggeratedly cartoony, like a blend of bobbleheads and Lego people seen through a manga filter, that I warmed to them. And the color, all orange, black, and white, is energizing. (There’s a preview here, but the pages aren’t half as bright as they are in print.)

Unfortunately, for much of the book, the material is typical of the indy “woe is my life” semi-autobiographical genre. It reminded me of Festering Romance in its use of fantastic elements to camouflage a pedestrian slice-of-life story. Or even closer, the now-forgotten Eating Steve, another zombie book about trying to figure out what you want in life.

Rick and his girlfriend have just moved cross-country to Seattle for a new start. Turning into a zombie (and having various bits of himself fall off) is symbolism for how confused Rick is about what’s going on in his life and how he feels like everything is falling apart. He doesn’t know what he wants from life, he’s not sure he’s in love, he’s having conflicts with co-workers (mostly that they like to come in late and stay late and he wants to come to work early and leave on time), and he’s bummed that he has to worry about things like money to pay bills. At least the goofy-fun art style keeps all the body-part mishaps from seeming too gross.

The thing is, his life isn’t that bad. He works as a video game artist. Although he doesn’t think games are cool, he’s working in a creative field. His big complaint is that he doesn’t feel anything, that he seems dead inside. What it looks like to me is someone who hasn’t yet come to terms with adult life involving compromise. But then, I’m not all that sympathetic to yet another “life as an artist is hard and not perfect as I dreamed of” tale.

Moving somewhere else rarely fixes your problems if they come from inside. As Buckaroo Banzai said, “No matter where you go, there you are.” You can’t run away from uncertainty; you have to take it out, understand it, and address it to move on. He idolizes his happier past, but during his flashback, you realize that he gave up on a previous relationship to pick a girl he thought was “fun”, who had “no issues to deal with”. That’s because long-term relationships, once you really get to know a person, are hard; of course new infatuations seem much simpler. He took easy ways out, blaming the resulting difficulties on other people.

That’s why I enjoyed the last third of the book, where he takes the symbolism over the top into a violent fantasy of making significant life changes. The material wasn’t any fresher, and instead of addressing his problems he chooses to start fresh yet again, but the cartooning was action-packed and funny. And Rick’s finally making some choices instead of moping around. They’re stupid imaginary choices, but at least he’s doing something, which makes him more interesting to this reader. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

The Surrogates: Flesh and Bone
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In that first book, reference is made to a group of teens using robot surrogates who kill a homeless man. This book is the story of that series of events: the murder, its investigation, and the impact on society. The main character of the previous volume, Harvey Greer, is here a young police officer assigned to the case. He’s given the opportunity to help investigate the crime and demonstrate his abilities, which makes it a huge chance to succeed as a detective, as he aspires to be, or risk being stuck in his current position if he fails.

Surrogates aren’t in as widespread use at the time of this story, and attitudes are also different. In the previous book, Greer is tired of his wife’s refusal to interact with him in person; here, he’s excited by the new-and-different hot body she offers him after she’s first bought a surrogate. Cops aren’t yet converted, still walking the streets physically. Many factions reappear, in younger guise, including the Virtual Self corporation, who makes the robots, and the Prophet and his religious flock, who object to them in principle.

The style of the case will be familiar to anyone who follows the news. It pits rich youth against the discarded poor, white against black, tech users (those who can afford it, or those who welcome it) against the old-fashioned. The verdict is rendered as much in public, in the media and the attitudes they foster, as it is the courts. Everyone’s out to find the only witness and use him for their own ends.

The art is consistent with the first book, sketchy linework on monochrome pages. I like the way the grey-blues and dark neutrals give the feel of the grimy, overcast city, and the distinctly handmade look of the line art — no computer would produce lines that jagged in feel — underlies the themes of the story. (I believe that Brett Weldele actually produces the composite pages on computer, in a mediated way that has additional echoes of significance.) As in the previous volume, each story chapter is followed by text material — mocked-up newspaper editorials about whether or not to use a surrogate, for example, or a brochure from the Prophet’s church.

I enjoyed this volume more than the first one, since with the basics already established, Robert Venditti could put a tighter focus on the events. However, the story wasn’t as satisfying as I expected. While the first chapters set up a gripping situation, events after that happen a little too abruptly for my taste.

I suspect it’s due to taking on too much. Thinking back on both books, I would have enjoyed them more if the Prophet was removed, because too often, calling someone religious is an excuse for not having to give them fully three-dimensional motivations. If we’d only had the police and the corporation and the people caught in the middle, that would have been plenty of conflict for me. As it is, too many characters are two-dimensional in their reactions to keep the story moving. If you watch Law & Order, you’ve seen many of the cast members — rich white guy buying his way out of justice, street informant only out for his own skin, heartless corporate executive, etc. — too many times before with just as little depth.

There are particular interactions in small scenes that show Venditti’s skill. The conversation between Greer and a grandmother comes to mind, as does the resulting conclusion he draws. It’s a shame that the whole thing isn’t as good as those moments. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

The Stuff of Life
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When I saw The Stuff of Life: A graphic guide to genetics and DNA, I thought it would be another great book in the genre. Heck, it was both blurbed by Hosler and illustrated by Zander Cannon and Kevin Cannon, who previously worked with Ottaviani on two books, T-Minus: The Race to the Moon and Bone Sharps, Cowboys, and Thunder Lizards. Unfortunately, I was severely disappointed.

First, I found the premise silly. The framing sequence has an alien named Bloort 183 reporting on human genetics to the king, Floorsh 727. Aliens with goofy names? Ok, maybe they wanted something visually interesting, since this is a comic. Nope. The aliens are stalks with a flower on top with an eye in the middle. They’re lumpy and boring.

They feature in a very text-heavy, yawn-inducing introduction. Why does a book on genetics start with the formation of the planet Earth? I thought I was in the wrong volume. The overwritten text doesn’t work well as comics — the pictures illustrate the words instead of integrating with them. The art is quite good, actually; it’s a shame that the small size of the book and the copious amounts of text don’t show it off better.

By the time they start the genetics information, they’re throwing concepts, facts, and specialized terms at the reader rapidly. The alien nattering becomes a distraction instead of a way into the pile of jargon.

I’m not sure who the audience for this is. Younger readers will be put off by the relatively advanced vocabulary. Older readers (college level, for example) will likely find the comedy aliens too silly. I only made it 25 pages into the 150-page book before I gave up — it was making me sleepy. I will say, flipping through the rest, it seems very thorough and in-depth in covering its subject, but I was too bored to continue. There’s an excerpt at the publisher’s website if you want to see more.

Scarlett Takes Manhattan
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The premise is simple: famous burlesque queen Scarlett O’Herring tells us the story of her life and how she came to her profession, from orphaned chambermaid to fire-eater and stripper. Along the way, she touches on class distinctions, lesbianism, remaining true to yourself, costuming, politics, and the value of accidents in affecting the course of our lives.

The opening, where we see her in bed with the gentleman she’s telling her story to, sets the mood: intimate, teasing, playful, and since she’s telling her own story, somewhat unreliable. Crabapple’s cartoony-yet-ornate style is very well-suited to the period. Sometimes it’s just silly, as when she draws the extraordinarily phallic ice cream Scarlett enjoys early on. Other times, the whorls in Scarlett’s hair matches the flames that lick around her face, creating beauty from the extreme.

I appreciate seeing a book where sex is fun as well as an entertainment. It seems that the purpose and manipulations of show business hasn’t changed all that much in 100-some years. The second half of the book thrusts Scarlett into the political machines of the time, illustrating how power-seekers have always used the mass medium of their era to manipulate. Don’t worry, though — once again, sex saves the day.

It’s 48 pages, in color, and you can read a (NSFW! also contains a spoiler) preview online. It’s available now through Amazon or you can order it from your local comic shop with Previews code OCT09 0905 for arrival in January.

Molly Crabapple and John Leavitt have also worked together on Backstage, a webcomic at Act-i-vate about vaudeville in the 1900s; this book is kind of a prequel to that strip. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the author.)

Some New Kind of Slaughter (or Lost in the Flood (and How We Found Home Again): Diluvian Myths From Around the World) retells twelve ancient flood myths and one original story set in modern times. The book uses the earliest known flood myth as the narrative frame to tell the other stories. The Sumerian king, Ziusudra, is warned by the god Enki that the world is about to be flooded. He takes his people to the coast and buys a boat large enough to house them all. While on the ship, Ziusudra has visions of other people and their flood experiences. Besides the Sumerian myth, three other stories run the length of the book. They are the modern story of Sharon Boatwright, an original version of the Noah story, and the Chinese myth of Fu Xi and Nuwa.

Some New Kind of Slaughter
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Biblical and comparative religion students are aware that Noah’s tale in Genesis is not the only ancient flood story. In fact, it’s not even the oldest. The oldest flood story is from Sumer and dates back to approximately 1700 BC. Almost every culture has a flood myth. Some are stories of global floods; other are local flood stories. As this book points out, we are still writing flood stories today about experiences in New Orleans and Phuket, Thailand.

Given the number and variety of flood stories, it’s amazing that someone hasn’t attempted a project like this before. Certainly, there is more than enough material for a monthly series to run several years. Of course, the problem may be the research needed to portray the historical and cultural context of each story accurately. Most flood stories would barely occupy one issue, so each month the creative team would have the challenge of presenting a different ancient culture. This may explain why no one has done it before and the present book limits itself to just twelve ancient tales.

Some New Kind of Slaughter is a mixed bag. Taken individually, the authors have done a good job of selecting and illustrating a wide variety of flood stories. However, the overall narrative structure of the book itself is too fragmentary to enjoy the myths.

Throughout most of the book, the reader is asked to follow five narratives at once: the four larger stories plus a shorter myth. Since this isn’t an epic tale, like Lord of the Rings, these separate story lines aren’t part of a grander narrative that will tie them all back together. For a 126-page book, I find five concurrent storylines silly and excessive. Much more satisfying would have been to keep the narrative devise of Ziusudra’s vision and then to tell each myth in turn completely before moving on to the next.

Another complaint I had with the book was the lack of bibliography or source notes for the myths. I suspect that some readers, like myself, will find this book whets their appetite for further reading on flood myths. Unfortunately, the authors have left us to our own devices to find if there are any collections of flood myths and if so, what the best ones are. I did locate a website with a listing of many, if not most, of the world myths by country with footnotes. So for those interested in learning more, that is a good place to start.

This lack of source material is most glaring in the original version of Noah that Mann and Lewis tell. Those familiar with the Biblical narrative are going to find a lot of new material. Even students of the rabbinical traditional will find unfamiliar characters and elements. What Mann and Lewis did was combine into one story the Biblical version, rabbinical tradition, and material from the Qur’an and Islamic tradition. I’m well-versed in the Genesis account but have no familiarity with the Jewish and Islamic sources, so I was shocked by the appearance of a fourth son for Noah, a giant, the Book of Raziel, the body of Adam, and seventy villagers in this story. I had no clue where all this new material came from until I began to research the extra-Biblical mentions of Noah. If you’re going to radically alter a familiar story, then you’re obligated to let your readers know this is an original version and what you based this new telling on, even if it’s just your own imagination.

In general, I liked Mann’s artwork. He does a good job of displaying the different cultures for each myth. In fact, I was able to identify the country of origin of a couple of myths based on the clothing of the characters. He uses a thick-line style that works well to convey character emotions. However, this same thick line causes problems with characters in the background or in panels simulating a movie long shot. Often, there is a lack of details in these characters. Hands become parallelograms with lines for fingers. In some panels, the juxtaposition of fully rendered figures and stick figures was jarring enough to throw me out of the narrative to stare in disbelief at the art.

Despite its flaws, Some New Kind of Slaughter works well as an introduction to the rich world of flood mythology. In this book, you can see how wonderfully diverse this body of literature is. Floods are still a deadly reality in the world today. As the authors astutely point out, our experience with floods is one of the many ways that we are still connected to our ancestors and the authors of these myths. We still tell stories to help define and understand our experiences and to find meaning in the midst of what seems to be utter chaos. Some New Kind of Slaughter helps us to reconnect with our forefathers and to find comfort and companionship in our common struggles.

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

Kat & Mouse: The Knave of Diamonds
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When we left our intrepid heroines, they were at the winter dance, where Chloe, the school princess, was wearing her mother’s diamond necklace without permission. When it was stolen, Chloe turned to Mouse and Kat for help, even though Kat had just been humiliated for wearing Chloe’s dress from last year. Finding the thief will mean catching the Artful Dodger, the criminal who’s been bedeviling the school throughout the series.

Now, in The Knave of Diamonds, all the mysteries are brought to conclusion. Chloe redeems herself, the thief is caught, and the mysterious teacher is revealed. Plus, Ruth, who’s collapsed after starvation dieting for the dance, is given a much-needed talking to by a surprising character. I was waiting for the lecture on not buying into artificial stereotypes of beauty, but the approach writer Alex de Campi takes is refreshing and more likely to be listened to.

I love these characters and situation because de Campi has such a wonderful grasp on how teens act. No one cares that Kat is playing Nancy Drew; while she’s searching the garbage (with teeth gritted and eyes averted), the popular jock sees it as another opportunity to pick on the geek girls. de Campi is ably supported by Federica Manfredi, whose art is a pleasure to watch, no matter what the cast is doing. The characters have such presence and realistic emotional reaction. I especially appreciated how she drew Ruth as skinny, but she also captured the hollow eyes, unattractively prominent collarbones, and general air of weakness that comes along with crash dieting.

The book is available now, or in November through Diamond-supplied comic shops. The release was rushed in order to prevent the rights from reverting to the author. It’s a shame that such a terrific little story was hamstrung by being pushed into an unsupported format, but selfishly, I’m glad I got to read the ending. I’m just disappointed there won’t be any more mysteries with these great characters.

The Mouse Guard have stopped a rebellion and siege of their headquarters at Lockhaven. However, their troubles are far from over. They don’t have enough provisions to survive the winter. The rebellion has brought to light the need for the independent mice cities to form an alliance to stave off external and internal threats. Gwendolyn, leader of the Mouse Guard, has sent out representatives to all the cities seeking supplies and offering to host a summit of the cities. Both are needed to insure the survival not just of the Mouse Guard, but all mice.

Mouse Guard: Winter 1152
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Mouse Guard is high fantasy in the tradition of Tolkien, Le Guin, and Brooks. Obviously, the scope of this series is much smaller; however, it’s just as rich and nuanced a world as any of the other epic fantasies.

Mouse Guard is populated with sentient animals, instead of humans. David Petersen crafts a realistic world by keeping as much of the natural physiology as possible in the animals. In addition, each species has its own culture, shaped by their place in the food chain and their survival techniques. Technologically and structurally, the mouse society is equivalent to the high Middle Ages (as the year in the title indicates). Opening this book is like stepping through the wardrobe to Narnia.

So many aspects of this book invite comparison to Tolkien. The focus of the book is simple and straight-forward: get supplies and renew alliances. (Tolkien’s focus was “go to Mordor and destroy Sauron’s ring”.) However, there are many obstacles and complexities along the way to those goals. This basic structure allows Petersen room for lots of character interaction and development. Just as in The Lord of the Rings, the mice discover a large, abandoned underground city, Darkheather. In fact, Darkheather’s architecture reminds me of Tolkien’s Moria. Remarkably, Mouse Guard doesn’t suffer from being compared to The Lord of the Rings; instead, it highlights how well-written and thought-out this series is.

Petersen focuses the narrative on a group of five mice, which allows us lots of time to get to know these characters. Each mouse has a distinct look and personality, which is just as well-developed as the world Petersen’s built. What endeared me most to this series is that words like honor, duty, sacrifice, and love are taken seriously and have significance in the life of these characters. These aren’t perfect mice, but they strive to live to up to the best and highest ideas. We deeply connect with these characters; we anguish over their struggles and cheer their triumphs. Again, like Tolkien, the nobility of these mice inspires and challenges us to be better people ourselves.

Reading Mouse Guard was a conflicting experience. Half of me wanted to turn the page to see what happens next, while half of me wanted to stop and linger over the luscious images. The artwork is filled with meticulous details in the designs of the cities, the weapons, the clothing, the everyday utensils, etc. Each city has its own unique architecture and fashion. Petersen uses rich, warm, earth tones for the world of the mice. It gives even the stronghold of Lockhaven a feeling of home. The art is simply gorgeous and a pure delight.

Archaia should be commended for a putting together a wonderful hardbound book. The paper is high quality. The reproduction shows all the details. There is a nice collection of extras at the end of the book. It’s definitely worth the cover price and would be a great gift book for an older child or comic fan. You can see a preview of the first five pages of this book at Archaia’s website.

I don’t say this lightly: Mouse Guard is perfect. There are no flaws in plot, character, design, color, narration, or world building. (Parents should be advised that because of the realism in this series, the fight scenes are bloody and characters do die. So be sure to take the age rating of 10+ seriously.) This is a must read for any fan of high fantasy. It’s also a must read for lovers of great comics in general. This was such a rewarding reading experience that I’m sad I have to wait until next year for the new story arc. I look forward to visiting this world again and spending more time with these incredible mice.

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

CSI: Intern at Your Own Risk
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Kiyomi is a student optimistically trying to cope with how badly the economy is treating her single father — the standard plucky manga schoolgirl type, in other words, who’s about to be given the opportunity to show how special she is, only in an American TV context. She’s one of five students chosen to intern with the Las Vegas CSI unit as part of a high school outreach program. As you might expect in stories of this type, the kids end up working together to solve a murder. It’s Scooby Doo with more science.

It is very unfortunate, given the CSI series’ emphasis on accurate evidence, that the artist gets some things flatly wrong. Blood and body position change slightly from one panel to the next in the opening scene. More confusingly, when the caption says “palm smears”, the art shows the back of the fingertips touching, not the palm. The cargo pant capris under Kiyomi’s dress (a horrible look) disappear at a key dramatic moment. The artist isn’t the only one having problems. Another caption refers to a “grizzly murder”; since no bear was involved, I think they meant “grisly”.

Although the artist has trouble with older characters appearing their age (a problem with many manga-influenced styles, I find), he handles the backgrounds and technology acceptably in most cases (although he sometimes varies spatial relationships too much from panel to panel). He’s also got a good grasp on expression, especially Kiyomi’s. The likenesses vary greatly. I only recognized Jim Brass, one of my favorites, because he was named. Gil Grissom was easy, because of the beard. Catherine appears as generic comic blonde, identifiable only because of her role as the only decision-making woman. The known characters, these and others, appear in supporting roles throughout the book, keeping an eye on the kids and demonstrating various lab settings and techniques.

I found it very interesting that a key scene indicates that Kiyomi was selected because they specifically didn’t want their five interns to be all male. Is someone making a statement about standardized testing being limited in what it can tell you about a candidate’s potential? Or echoing typical stereotypes about girls not being as good at science? I support the concept, of actively working for diversity, but I’m very curious how it’s received by readers. I would hate to think of someone thinking, “yeah, chicks need special help because they’re not as smart.”

The other four interns aren’t very well-developed, because there’s not much space for it. The book has to stage a murder, show the kids selected, get the program established, tour the lab, display the evidence, set up an unsubtle red herring, do research, and oh, yeah, solve the murder in only 160 pages of story. The pacing can be jumpy and abbreviated.

One of the students is creepily obsessed with forensics. Another is a science geek (complete with bow tie – really?). I got him confused with the egotistic overachiever, because both have similar length light hair, and there’s not much else to distinguish them. (Kiyomi also appears to be a twin of the victim, since they’re both dark-haired teenage girls.) The last is a jock with near-military demeanor who cheated his way in.

Overall, I found this an entertaining beach read to while away an afternoon, just as I find episodes of the show watchable but not particularly memorable. I don’t want to spoil anything, but some will find the killer’s motivation, which involves overtones of gay panic, objectionable. The book, larger than the typical manga digest, also contains a short preview of a new CSI text novel. You can read the first chapter online. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Spy vs. Spy:
Danger! Intrigue! Stupidity!
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Three “lost” collections of Antonio Prohias’ classic Cold War characters Spy vs. Spy are finally back in print — for the first time in decades! Originally published during the late 1950s through the 1970’s as part of MAD Magazine’s bid to take over the world (more than 100 titles were published in paperback), the original Spy vs. Spy collections were unique in that they featured all-new material — as opposed to the MAD anthology paperback collections (like The MAD Reader) which were all reprints from the magazine. So, bottom line, these new collections — Danger! Intrigue! Stupidity!, Masters of Mayhem, and Missions of Madness — all feature original Spy vs. Spy strips by Prohias that did not originally appear in MAD Magazine and were not compiled in 2001’s Spy vs. Spy: The Complete Casebook (despite its title).

Spy vs. Spy:
Masters of Mayhem
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(And if you don’t already have Spy vs. Spy: The Complete Casebook, you should. It’s amazing — especially for the historical and personal background on Prohias, as well as the multitude of other extra material.)

For the record: Danger! Intrigue! Stupidity! returns to print the original The All-New MAD Secret File on Spy vs. Spy (originally published in 1965), Masters of Mayhem reprints MAD’s Spy vs. Spy Follow-Up File (1968), and Missions of Madness repackages the original The Fourth MAD Declassified Papers on Spy vs. Spy (1974). Or basically the 1st, 2nd, and 4th Spy vs. Spy paperbacks. No, I don’t know why they skipped the 3rd one. Perhaps there will be more — if everybody goes out and buys these!

Spy vs. Spy:
Missions of Madness
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All of these have been beautifully re-collected by Watson-Guptill for $11.99 each and are all available now at your favorite brick & mortar, online, or imaginary bookstore or comics shop.

And if you don’t know who or what Spy vs. Spy is — shame on you! You just failed Question #7 on the standard Comic Character Literacy Exam! Study up, buckos!

(Complimentary copies for this review were provided by the publisher.)

Everyone makes an appearance — Lacey, Wendy’s boyfriend Tyler, Noser, Manservant Neville, Roxy the former succubi, giant robots — and the events are suitably amazing, huge, and touching. What really got to me, though, beyond the insane ideas and creative action was the spot-on dialogue. I’d missed hearing the characters talk like this, whether jokes about the costumes or the Middleman’s exclamations or Ida’s insults to Wendy or Dub-Dub’s lengthy hip statements.

Visually, the characters are cute. They aren’t exactly likenesses, but they capture the key features: eyes, hair, expressions. More importantly, all the open questions are dealt with. Lacey and the Middleman reach an understanding. We find out more about the other woman the boss loves and how he became the Middleman. And finally, we learn his name.

By the end, I found myself tearing up, between the need for sacrifice and the Doctor Who reference. Plus, I just miss this show so much! In addition to the gripping story, there’s a “previously” page to remind readers of where we left off, and four pages of annotations of the many pop culture references. I needed the help, since I wouldn’t have gotten most of them without the guide.

For some reason, the book is only available from the publisher, Viper Comics, which means with $4.50 shipping, you’re going to be paying a 50% premium over the cover price of $7.95. It’s still worth it.

The Big Kahn
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His long-lost brother appears to say his final goodbyes, telling everyone the truth. His family — the widow; his son Avi, a rabbi following in his footsteps; his daughter Lea, previously non-observant; and the youngest child, Eli — are all shaken in their faith and their relationships by this revelation. Avi was planned to take over the congregation, but they refuse the son of a liar, regardless of his innocence. Lea and her roommate drink, dance, and party to seek escape. Eli, meanwhile, tries to find out more about his father and his legacy, while Mom has her own secret (one that unfortunately isn’t followed through on in the book).

The concepts are thought-provoking, exploring the nature of faith and its practice. It’s a shame that the art isn’t up to the strengths of the story. The figures are stiff and often interchangeable; I sometimes had trouble recognizing characters without dialogue to identify them. The expressions are rarely as deep and revealing as the story wants them to be. (At times, they don’t quite fit the heads they’re carried on.) Camera angles flip around, and the reader may not be sure of the details of a scene’s staging or exactly who’s moving where in the space shown. The unvarying rectangular panels can be claustrophobic, which may be intentional, to reflect the pressure on the family.

Something exploring such potent emotions would have been better served by a more experienced artist, I fear. Or it might have been better as something filmed. The chapter transitions, framed as screen wipes, suggest that the idea was in the creators’ minds. With actors, the emotions could have been better portrayed more accurately and with reserve, when necessary. At times, the writer goes for cliché — how better to show that the daughter has rejected her faith than to have her screwing some unidentified guy at her father’s funeral? It’s shock for its own sake, and it doesn’t match the later, more subtle picture Kleid paints of her journey. Kleid has said he was inspired by Six Feet Under, and I can definitely see this as an episode of that show. It’s got the same feel of the family and pacing.

Overall, it’s an involving story, but the artistic execution doesn’t live up to the potential of the premise. Neil Kleid previously wrote Brownsville and Ninety Candles. This is Nicolas Cinquegrani’s first major work. The publisher has posted preview pages. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

The Big Skinny
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As in her strips, her voice here is amusingly down-to-earth. Unlike some other diet manuals in comic form, she doesn’t mess around with quick fixes or fad diets or promises that don’t work. Lay’s advice is simple and accurate: to lose weight, eat fewer, healthy calories and exercise more.

First, though, we see what brought her to that well-earned wisdom. She shows us a teen who didn’t fit in, a mother who tried to fix the fat problem with diet pills, the effect of broken relationships, and the determination it takes to work out and eat right. It all adds up to her taking control and making the decision to reach, and maintain, the weight she wanted. There is nothing unique about her story — many readers have similar backgrounds or experiences or temptations. That’s what makes the book work so well: if you could see yourself where she was, you can be where she is now if you’re willing to take the same responsibility for yourself.

The chapters are short and punchy, illustrating particular significant incidents, expressing elements of Lay’s philosophy, or covering short topics, such as managing emotional triggers or misleading nutrition labels or different ways to be active. The section on the need for willpower is one of the most amusing, with George Clooney showing up with fat-heavy McDonald’s food.

Lay makes clear that this is not wish fulfillment, that keeping the weight she wants means big tradeoffs:

Maintenance will always be part of my routine because I am a born eater who had overweight parents. But I like the compliments I get, my energy, and the way my clothes fit. And all that is worth far more to me than eating whatever I want.

It’s especially great reading this in comic format, because you can see the changes in her figure as she talks of different points in her life. And due to her streamlined style, the sizes aren’t exaggerated into sexualized comic book women or ridiculous fatties to laugh at. She’s drawn as a person, not a symbol.

Her history shows that she was a normal kid who felt isolated in a family of seven people. The dinner dishes she lists are both nostalgic and vaguely repulsive in their reliance on frying and mayonnaise. And her mother’s search for a quick fix taught her to be honest with herself and realize that things weren’t going to change externally until they did internally.

She tackles the whole wide range of what food means to us: tough decisions between temporary indulgence and long-term health, comfort and feelings of love, addiction, and the influence of genetics, family, and friends. Some of the tips are simple to remember, such as eating more colors, since foods rich in nutrients tend not to be white or beige. She also discusses how to handle vacations, holidays, and work “food pushers”.

Lay uses creative images to make sure lessons stick with the reader, drawing herself as made of fruits and vegetables or showing her and housemate Derek throwing pies at each other. Even when the pictures aren’t as fantasy-based, when she’s drawing different people who struggle with weight or illustrating a vacation trip, the images are helpful and reinforce her points with plenty of variety. It’s especially helpful when she’s demonstrating ways to work out at home with no extra equipment.

Some may find this book a bit too math-heavy in its emphasis on calorie counting; for those readers, Lay tries to make it easier by showing how she taught Derek about it and by including her calorie charts and visual portion size approximations. Others have criticized Lay’s maintenance weight of 125 pounds (size 2 or 4) as too low. To that I can only say, this is her story. She portrays herself as happy and healthy and staying there for several years. (I suspect living in Los Angeles does affect what she sees as a normal, desirable size.) She doesn’t say everyone should target that size, but they should reach a point where they are active and satisfied.

She can sound a little hectoring, hammering home her points, but some need the repetition to be convinced. Also, the book works best if you don’t read the whole thing at once. Sample a few chapters, think about what they say, and see if you can apply the lessons to your life.

Lay does have the advantage of being an artist working at home, which makes it easier for her to find time to work out and eat more frequent small meals. Those who work outside the home, without access to their kitchen stocked with healthy foods and fruits and vegetables, will have a harder time with portions and timing. There is a small section about what happens when those around you don’t support your weight-loss goals, but no discussion of how to proceed when you’re cooking for others or having to negotiate within a family. Lay also takes advantage of her urban California environment, which means plenty of places to get organic food, soy substitutes, and the like to support her vegan-influenced choices.

The book includes sample meal plans, a menu template, plenty of single-serving recipes, and cooking tips to make more healthy food. Like many books on healthy diets, the portion sizes don’t take economics into account. By that I mean, when you’re eating that half-piece of wheat toast, the writer isn’t paying attention to how much of the rest of that loaf is going to go bad before you eat it. A recipe that calls for a slice of avocado sounds good… but what do you do with the rest of the fruit? That’s a problem shared by most books of this genre, though.

Overall, I loved this book because I could really relate to it. It’s like sitting down with a friend and laughing about how hard it is to stay fit while swapping tips and new, healthy dishes to try. I appreciated the encouragement. Greg McElhatton also enjoyed it, and Tim O’Shea interviewed Carol Lay about creating the book. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Festering Romance
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When her friend Freya sets her up on a blind date with Derek, the two hit it off, but Janet’s uncertain whether to share her secret, that she can see Paul, with him. Plus, he has a secret of his own.

The simple art made me think that this book was originally a webcomic, because the thick lines and rectangular panels with little variation would reproduce well online at smaller resolutions. It’s done with skill, and it’s easy to read quickly, but it’s not something I got lost in or noticed unless I was paying attention to it. It didn’t draw my eye, in other words, acting functionally instead of attractively.

I also was led to the webcomic assumption because of the pacing, which is leisurely. 180 pages are spent only on the relatively straightforward story of how these two meet, date, fight, and reconcile… well, it feels over-long to me, like a story that had been developed and drawn a page a day instead of something plotted and edited as a whole.

Some of the times when the art is exaggerated art are amusing (such as when Freya and Janet nearly come to blows over a Ouija board), but the extremely cartoony portrayal doesn’t always mesh well with the relatively low-key real-life attitudes of the characters. Also, that Paul’s a ghost doesn’t really matter to the story. (Some of the elements, like him growing up with her, actually contradict his state.) It could as easily have been Paul being something else a new flame might find embarrassing, like a huge geek or something.

Editorially, I would have recommended tightening up some of the events, speeding up the pacing, and making sure everything supported the main story. The theme, that these two young adults aren’t ready for a relationship until they eliminate the “ghosts” of their past guilts, is rather obvious, and the story takes too long, in my opinion, to get there. Once upon a time, I would have welcomed seeing any type of relatively realistic romance in comics. Now, with so many amazing stories being told in graphic novels, the bar is higher. But this is a first work from the artist, who recently graduated from art school, and there’s enough skill and promise here that I look forward to seeing more from her.

Renee Lott has a blog. Preview pages are available at the book’s website. (A complimentary online copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Update: Lott has responded to some of my points, elaborating on her artistic decisions. I appreciated knowing more about why she made some of the choices she did, but I don’t think they were ultimately as successful as she wanted them to be. Still, as she says, that’s just my opinion. Check out the previews and see for yourself.

Little Mouse Gets Ready
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by Jeff Smith, Toon Books, $12.95 US
Due out in September, K-2 audience

The latest Toon book maintains the high quality of their line of hardcover comics for kids. The situation is simple: a mouse needs to get dressed so he can go to the barn with his family. He puts on his clothes, one piece at a time, sharing the struggles many kids do — getting the arm in the sleeve right, making the buttons match. The sneakers are Velcro, so no need to tie bows any more. Reading this, it seemed as if Beatrix Potter had been inspired by a Dressy Bessy doll. Not a bad thing at all, especially given the delicate details of the art. The surprise ending captures the blend of whimsy and practicality found in Smith’s Bone series, while the starring mouse is simply adorable.

Bone: Rose

Bone: Rose
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by Jeff Smith and Charles Vess, Graphix, $10.99 US

Skewing somewhat older is Smith’s Bone prequel, the story of Gran’ma Ben when she was the young Princess Rose.

Charles Vess is deservedly well-known for his beautiful fantasy art, and his work here gives the tale gravitas and a sense of agelessness. Rose and her sister Briar are being groomed for their eventual queenship. Their training includes tales of days of dragons and the magic power of dreams. There are also talking dogs and a handsome guard captain and strange creatures and battles and omens. It’s a pleasure to see such a lovely modern fairy tale focus on young women with such leadership and bravery.

It’s lacking the humor of the original series, with none of the little white lumpy people to liven things up, and I suspect the events are more meaningful to those who have already read the Bone saga. The conclusion comes a little too quickly, with punishment doled out abruptly, but those looking for an adventure story in the mold of classic fantasy should enjoy it.

The Muppet Show: Meet the Muppets

The Muppet Show: Meet the Muppets
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by Roger Langridge, Boom! Studios, $9.99 US
Due out in October

The first four Muppet Show comics are collected, and they’re genius. They capture the characters perfectly, with the four main — Kermit (who misses his old home pond), Fozzie (struggling to reinvent his act by using historical models), Gonzo (unidentifiable insurance risk!), and Miss Piggy (concerned about the future of her relationship with Kermit) — each getting a spotlight. The book is so packed, though, that plenty of other cast members appear.

Each page or two is a different bit of business, evoking so many favorite gags: Veterinarian’s Hospital, Pigs in Space, Muppet Labs, the Swedish Chef, Rowlf, the newscaster, the band, the planet Koozebane, Sam the Eagle, and of course, Statler and Waldorf. The book is stuffed with humor and skits, just like the original show, plus “awww” moments of friendship and memory. I hadn’t realized how much I missed seeing new bits with these characters until this comic got it all so right. Who would have thought that you could do a musical sketch in a silent comic so well? (I’d also forgotten how cool the talking houses were until they cameo’ed.)

Of course, all this success is due to Langridge’s art. The Muppets look like people and like puppets at the same time. He illustrates the attitudes and gestures that make each character unique while still drawing them in keeping with their “real life” appearance. He also puts in verbal humor, sight gags, and all possible kinds of silliness.

This collection is highly recommended for all ages. If you ever enjoyed the Muppets, you’ll love it.

The first issue of the next miniseries, The Treasure of Peg Leg Wilson, is out now and also recommended. Scooter finds a treasure map indicating something buried under the theater, which sets off a gold rush among the rats, and Animal gets civilized. Plus, a tap-dancing ninja! Sadly, I’ve found the Muppet Robin Hood title not nearly as good, probably due to the different creators and the lack of flexibility in retelling an established story.

Toy Story: The Mysterious Stranger

Toy Story: The Mysterious Stranger
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by Dan Jolley and Chris Moreno, Boom! Studios, $9.99 US
Due out in September

This is another entry in Boom!’s licensed kids line, and it skews younger than the Muppets. Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that the simpler stories likely won’t have the same all-ages appeal.

Don’t get me wrong, these are cute stories well-told with familiar characters. But the premises aren’t multi-layered; they’re just simple problem-solving, as when the toys try to figure out what a mysterious egg in the bedroom is. Another has them dealing with a new member of the household, a dog who knows their secret.

In every case, at least some of the toys wind up seeming needy and insecure. That’s part of the character for the dinosaur, but when it extends to more, I find it overdone. This might be a case where it’s better to read the issues individually month-to-month, because the repetition of the theme wouldn’t be as obvious.

The second story, where the toys have to repair Andy’s science fair project after they accidentally break it, is the best of the lot because it gives them more to do other than stand around and worry. (Caveat: the fourth story in the book, described as “Mr. Potato Head decides that he’s … going to reveal his walking-and-talking nature to Andy!”, wasn’t available for review, so maybe that one’s just as good. It certainly sounds interesting.) In the second story, Hamm gets upset over his identity and having to hide the ability to talk from people. It adds some thought-provoking depth to the adventure and makes it memorable.

Although I found the first story the weakest, it does have a fun, well-cartooned action/chase sequence that gives most of the toys neat things to do. Also, they need to use the soldiers more, because I love them.

Lunch Lady

Lunch Lady
and the Cyborg Substitute
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by Jarrett J. Krosoczka, Knopf Books for Young Readers, $5.99 US
Audience ages 7-12

The first two books in this new series were released simultaneously, a neat strategy to give interested young readers more to enjoy. Lunch Lady is a crimefighter when she’s not dishing out school lunches. Her co-worker Betty makes her gadgets, which include a moped that spews sloppy joe instead of an oil slick or a spatula that rotates fast enough to become a mini-copter or a spork phone or taco-shaped night vision goggles. Lunch Lady uses these tools to protect the kids in her school, whether from everyday bullies or other teachers gone mad.

Lunch Lady
and the League of Librarians
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The interiors are black-and-white with toning and highlights in shades of yellow, an eye-catching combination. The art style is simple, as though a child could draw it, which belies the skill on display in storytelling and pacing. There’s also plenty of imagination in the content, straight-forward adventure stories in a setting most kids can relate to.

Each book starts with a simple “stop the villain” (you know they’re bad guys because they have hoods over their heads) sequence to establish the character before starting the main plot. In Lunch Lady and the Cyborg Substitute, the math teacher is replaced by a robot as part of a devious plan to remove popular instructors. Lunch Lady and the League of Librarians, aside from being more fun to say, features the book-lovers teaming up to destroy video games. It’s full of creative images and gadgets, with plenty of homages to favorite titles.

The publisher is clearly expecting big things from this new series — there are already movie plans, with Amy Poehler starring.

Bringing Up Father
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This was probably the best choice for me of the three, since I would better appreciate the domestic humor of Maggie and Jiggs. I’d learned a little about the strip while reading The Comics Before 1945, but R.C. Harvey’s nine pages of introduction comprehensively covers the origin of the concept, the life of artist George McManus, and how the strip progressed after the early years presented here. (It’s a shame that all of the copy, back cover, flaps, and interior, looks like it was printed from a rough draft with no proofreading. The copy editor piece of my brain kept cringing at the errors and rough spots that should have been corrected.)

All of the dailies from the first two years, 1913-1914, are collected. It’s explained that, for various reasons, strips didn’t run every day in the early years, making it only 340 contained here. All are labeled with dates, and many have notes explaining references. I’m a little surprised that there’s no “volume one” on the book; I would have expected this to be first in a series.

The premise of the strip is simple and mostly unvarying: Jiggs has become rich relatively recently. He only wants to drink beer and play cards with his old pals, but his wife Maggie is socially ambitious and ashamed of his behavior. The conflicts between fitting in and standing out, between aiming for more and being happy with basic pleasures, are those many people found humor in back in the day.

Specific situations follow this pattern: Maggie tells Jiggs something that’s required to be proper, such as how to dress properly or warning him not to smoke his pipe or not to pal around with the help. Jiggs then embarrasses her more than she could have imagined, and she reacts. A lengthy part of this book also covers their trip through Europe.

The art is typical of its period — stylized figures, thin lines, lots of talking, flat in perspective. At two strips per page, they’re larger than the typical dailies seen today, although it’s still a tad difficult to read the text sometimes. The pacing is unusual, with some having multiple jokes or not really a punchline at all.

Strips like these don’t work today, because when we see two married people who fight as much as Maggie and Jiggs do, we wonder why they just don’t get a divorce and find people who’d make them happier. The idea of living with the annoyances because you made a commitment, for better or for worse (and both might come at once), marks this comic strip as being from another era just as much as the art does. These days, we’re also more likely to sympathize with Jiggs, the voice of individual pleasure, over the conforming hectoring of Maggie.

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

Zot!: The Complete Black and White
Collection: 1987-1991
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McCloud is better known today as the author of Understanding Comics, a non-fiction exploration of the format; its followup, Reinventing Comics, which examines technology; and a how-to book, Making Comics. But he originally started with this series, an homage to the things he loved: science fiction, superheroes, and manga design (before many people in this country had seen many Japanese comics).

In this series, Jenny lives every child’s daydream: escaping to another, better world than the one she finds so painful. Her parents are fighting and will likely divorce, but she has Zot!, a boy hero from another dimension. In his world, it’s always an optimistic 1965, where science creates only wonderful things that make the world better and villains are defeated with a raygun after a loopy spaceship chase.

Zot’s a classic hero who makes the right decisions easily and always saves the day… until he visits our world. Jenny is an ordinary girl, frustrated by high school when she knows there’s so much more out there. The supporting cast includes Peabody, Zot’s robot butler; Uncle Max, an artist and inventor; Butch, Jenny’s brother, who turns into a monkey in Zot’s world; and Woody, well-meaning geek and classmate of Jenny’s.

The art features the speedlines, closeup panels, and simplified design of manga, but those elements are incorporated into layouts and backgrounds inspired by classic American comics. There’s a ton of energy in these pages, packed with feelings and ideas and imagination. And thoughtful observations, as when Zot finds himself wondering about the differences between his world and ours.

The stories here divide into two sections: The first, “Heroes and Villains”, contains the more traditional adventure tales. Zot and Jenny have to defeat a robot that’s taken over the earth while looking for a soul, for example, or the steam-powered polluting Dr. Bellows, or Dekko, the mechanical man who once was an artist. His story features creative use of abstract art techniques when illustrating the world from his perspective.

The second, “Earth Stories”, features character spotlights, with each getting their own focus issue, and explorations of life here in the real world. In addition to Jenny and Zot, there’s Jenny’s mother, thinking about what happens to dreams when you grow up; Ronnie, a gamer who wants to write superhero comics; Brandy, his girlfriend, who’s trying to keep her family together and cover for her drunk mom; Woody, learning about everyday heroism; and Terry, whose coming-out story is the best-known of the set. That last one, in the subtle way it captures her pain and fear, still makes me cry in sympathy.

Those stories are why the series is still so fondly remembered today, but even in the earlier chapters, there’s a hint of real life intruding. Zot and Jenny, for example, are flustered when she’s referred to as his girlfriend, since they’re not sure how to define their relationship or whether they’re ready for the question of sex. Later, Jenny finds a kind of friendship with Woody that she can’t share with Zot, one based on struggling with not fitting in.

Then there’s the first time Zot comes to our Earth and is astounded by the differences. He gets mugged, and what he finds most surprising is not that there are bad people committing crimes, but that other people see it happening and don’t try to stop it. His fresh, positive eyes show just how different things are from what we hoped they would be.

The transition story between the two phases, “Ring in the New”, is my favorite. It begins with cameos of just about every important character as Max throws a New Year’s party. Jennie and Woody are visiting, which leads to discussion about the differences between the worlds. After Zot brings them back to their home Earth, he winds up trapped there. Jenny’s disheartened, knowing she has to stay in the world she dislikes, but Zot sees it as a place of possibilities.

This is a coming-of-age story, both for the characters and for the young artist who drew them. The introduction, also by McCloud, briefly tells his life story and how he came to create this work. There are also pages about the material not reprinted here and the minimal art changes McCloud made for this collection.

I looked forward to rereading Zot! in this volume, because it had been many years since I’d seen the comics. It is early work, with occasional cheesy elements and art glitches. (There are also stunningly beautiful panel choices and powerful emotional moments, in contrast to the impression McCloud’s notes give that all of it needs improvement.) What made the book seem all-new to me was McCloud’s notes. They appear after each story and explain his goals, what was going on in his life when the pages were created, and how he reacts to them now.

They’re as powerful, or even more so, than the comics they describe. When McCloud writes about why he told a story about Zot making a cola commercial and “selling out”, he also mentions how he and his wife couldn’t afford to buy macaroni-and-cheese. That such art was created out of such struggle … it makes it all the more poignant.

I also found it enlightening to hear what inspired the various villains McCloud created and his criticisms of his own work. And to be reminded of the “which character should get hit in the face with a pie?” contest, from days when fan communication happened in letter columns.

For me, the life-changing part comes in here: After reading and dropping the usual superheroes and Archies as a kid, I began reading comics again in graduate school. After a bit, I tired of DC and Marvel superheroes, and Zot! was the first independent comic I tried (even though I had to track it down in back issues, since it had ended by this point). It was similar enough to what I was used to that I was comfortable with it, but it was creative enough to keep me interested and emotionally real enough to be a gateway to the alternative comics I moved on to. If not for Zot!, and soon after Understanding Comics, I might not have kept reading comics, which would mean no reviewing, no website, no exposure to the full range of the comic medium, and no meeting my husband. So thank you, Scott McCloud.

The first 10 color issues, not reprinted here, are available in an out-of-print book from Kitchen Sink Press. This volume contains issues #11-18 and #21-36; the missing 19 and 20 were drawn by Chuck Austen so that McCloud could take some time off to marry and go on his honeymoon. (Another sign of another time: fill-ins instead of lengthy hiatuses.) McCloud’s layouts for those two issues are included instead in reduced form.

There are sample pages from this book available at the publisher’s website. Tom Spurgeon interviewed McCloud about the book.