Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde:
The Happy Prince

On the other, Russell’s work is, as always, simply gorgeous, and if this new illustrated version brings more readers to the story and his art, then it’s more than worthwhile. “The Happy Prince” is particularly timely, as it’s a welcome reminder of how the poor suffer; how thoughtless the rich and well-appointed are; and how virtuous sacrifice can be.

The Happy Prince is a golden statue with jeweled eyes who stands above the city. When a late swallow shelters under him, the prince asks the bird’s aid in helping some of the destitute he’s seen from his unmoving perch. The statue gives up everything to make life better for the sick, the hungry, and the abused.

One of the things I love about Wilde’s fairy tales are how they digress into side stories and even take potshots, as when he’s introducing the city officials. The explanation of why the swallow is running late to migrate is a fable in itself, as the bird fell in love with a reed. It’s full of Wilde’s signature wisecracks, as the other birds criticize his love as having “no money, and far too many relations.” True enough, as far as it goes, and an amusing translation of drawing-room gossip to the natural world.

Russell’s illustrations provide impressive visions of the descriptions the prince and the swallow share. While he tells of the hardship of his people, the bird dreams of flying away to Egypt and the exotic sights to be found there. All together, it makes for a feast for the eyes of many of the extremes of our world — artistic accomplishment (the gilded statue), natural beauty (the bird and the reed), faraway lands (the swallow’s Egyptian dreams), and the ups and downs of home (those living among us who need help).

The publisher has posted preview pages and provided a review copy. Russell shares his process, thoughts on the book, and making-of videos at the publisher’s blog. This is fifth in the series of Russell’s adaptations of Wilde’s fairy tales.

Play Ball

written by Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir
art by Jackie Lewis
$19.99, due out April 25

I heartily applaud the plot of this graphic novel, about a talented girl who struggles to get the right to play on her new high school’s baseball team (not softball), but I wish the execution was as strong as the concept.

The characters are two-dimensional. Dashiell is a grumpy tomboy. Her sister is boy-crazy and wants Dashiell to try harder to fit in and not rock the boat, but comes through for her in the end. Mom has left Dad because he’s a deadbeat, and he promises to show up for the kids but never does. There’s another school loner, Adam, who befriends and guides her through the new school structure. There’s a good boy on the team, who supports Dashiell based on her talent, and a bad one, who hazes her because she’s a girl. We’ve seen all this before, and the cast voices are flat and interchangeable, often speaking in exposition.

This is Jackie Lewis’ first major work in print, and while she has potential, her style reads as young. Some panels are great; others feel a little unfinished or too predictable (mostly the talking heads). Color or shading or toning would have helped give the work more sense of depth, especially in the many panels with no backgrounds. Her expressions are good, though, and I’d read another book by her.

Among its audience, the unexciting use of the comic medium won’t matter, since plenty of young women will enjoy reading about Dashiell’s challenges and how they play out over the baseball season. In fact, the straightforward structure might be a plus for the reader attracted by the subject matter but new to comics. A real love of the game comes through. There are a bunch of preview pages available at that interview link.

Courtney Crumrin Volume 1: The Night Things

Courtney Crumrin Volume 1:
The Night Things

by Ted Naifeh, $19.99

Speaking of color, the upgraded hardcover re-release of the first volume of Ted Naifeh’s series looks terrific. Great timing, too, since I was curious to reread these stories after the launch of the new ongoing series.

The color, by Warren Wucinich, is nicely shaded and moody. It’s not garish, but it makes this magical word seem more plausible, with plenty of purples and shadows. The hardcover binding, with its silver trim and bound-in ribbon bookmark, also suits the material well. It feels like a much older volume than it is, which plays along with the story about discovering spellbooks in a haunted old mansion.

Courtney has moved in with her creepy uncle, and she struggles to survive a world full of monsters. The woods have goblins, and her school has rich, spoiled social climbers. Now, rereading years later, I still admire Courtney’s reserve, her determination, her bravery, and her intelligence. She’s got a rough sense of justice and a special intensity.

I was also pleased to be reminded of Courtney’s experience with popularity spells and a visit to Goblin Town, both elements that reappear in the first issue of the new series. The stories stand on their own, but together, they make up a richer world tapestry. I’m looking forward to the second volume, The Coven of Mystics, due in August.

The Avalon Chronicles Volume 1: Once in a Blue Moon

The Avalon Chronicles Volume 1:
Once in a Blue Moon

written by Nunzio DeFilippis and Christina Weir
art by Emma Vieceli
$19.99

Similar as was done with Weir and DeFilippis’ Past Lies, this book is being re-released years after its original debut to re-launch the series. Only this time, the art is all-new.

Once In A Blue Moon was first released in 2004, drawn by Jennifer Quick (who as Jen Lee Quick wrote and drew Off*Beat). Now, The Avalon Chronicles has been redrawn by Emma Vieceli. The writers explain the background of the situation at their blog.

The plot is one many fantasy fans have dreamed of. When she was a girl, Aeslin’s parents read to hear from a book called “The Avalon Chronicles”. It’s all about how a prince and a beautiful dragon knight have adventures and save the kingdom. Now, she’s a teen, and her mother has given up fantasy. But then Aeslin finds a shop that wasn’t there yesterday, and she winds up sucked into the world of Avalon to find her destiny.

Vieceli does a great job, especially with the teen girls, both in the “real world” and fantasy land settings. If you ever wanted to be part of your favorite book, especially if it was about riding dragons, you’ll enjoy this escapism, even if it spends a little more time on the mechanics (how the book works) than it does battle in this first installment. It may be a better choice to pick this up once the second book is available, since much of this volume is introduction, and there is plenty more quest to come.

Recommended, especially for young women who want examples of how fantasy women can be more than princesses. (The publisher provided digital review copies.)

Abe Sapien:
The Devil Does Not Jest

So it was almost with resignation that I flipped through this newest collection, Abe Sapien: The Devil Does Not Jest. I thought I’d find more of the same and could put the book down quickly. However, I was surprised to find stand-alone horror stories that appealed to me the way the original Hellboy did. They’re simple in structure — Abe goes to weird location, monster attacks, order is restored if only temporarily — but that’s the appeal of the Hellboy (or any supernatural adventure story) formula.

Three stories in five issues are reprinted here: Abe Sapien: The Haunted Boy, Abe Sapien: The Abyssal Plain #1-2, and Abe Sapien: The Devil Does Not Jest #1-2. All are set in the 80s and feature bodies of water prominently, as suits the character.

The first is particularly powerful, as a grieving mother has to cope with the loss of her ten-year-old son to a frozen lake. The boy’s friend survived their ice skating accident, but he hasn’t been quite the same since. At first, this seems like a classic ghost story, as manifestations are reported seen at the lake, but since this universe is what it is, the waters are inhabited by something particularly dark, evil, and old. The watery setting also provides some great images of Abe swimming through the murk. Patric Reynolds does a good job capturing the horror contrasted against the domestic home environment the characters inhabit.

His work is scratchier than Peter Snejbjerg’s clean line, which tells the next story. I like it, because it gives Abe a sleek look. This tale is about a doomed Russian submarine that was carrying a mystical, healing relic when it sunk in the 1940s. A simple salvage mission gets complicated with a greedy ship captain, the Russian military, and of course, the supernatural. I enjoyed the humor with the skipper, but I found the conclusion a bit unsatisfying. I think it’s trying to make a point about the time of its setting that I didn’t agree with. The choice didn’t seem in keeping with what I think of Abe’s personality, either.

The last story sends Abe off with a young man to investigate his long-lost uncle’s haunted mansion on a lake in Maine. Since the relative’s dad was a demonologist, you know that isn’t going to go well. This one’s a lot more physical and visceral, with various fight scenes, but it also provides more guest appearances by other BPRD members. It seemed a bit shallow to me compared to the characterization of the first tale, but I’m not into this series for the monsters.

The book also has a sketchbook section with cover and character design drafts and background notes. The publisher has posted a preview and provided a digital review copy.

Between Gears

Opening it served as an immediate time capsule for me. It’s been longer than I like to think since I went away to school, but even though I didn’t (for example) watch Twilight my first night back, I could identify with so many of the events — moving back into dorms, catching up with friends, experimenting with new looks, making your own decisions, trying to determine your future. When she gets sick, with no one around to take care of her, I remembered being in that situation and felt so sorry for her. (Later, she shows us family holiday time, reminding us that she’s not totally alone.)

One thing I couldn’t personally relate to was Natalie’s participation in a sorority, but seeing those activities gave me a new perspective on something I always looked at with caution and concern. She presents the positive elements well, demonstrating the sisterhood she got out of it, even though sometimes it’s another drain on her time or another responsibility to juggle.

One of the lessons I found is not to get so caught up in the minutia of someone else’s life (worrying about who a particular reference is, for example) that you miss the big picture. (Kind of weird, though, to get that from 300 pages of that person’s day-to-day existence.) The references she makes were important to her at the time, even if I don’t share all of her touchpoints in TV or reading or songs. The pop culture references change, but the patterns stay the same. There’s an early panel where she, as a senior, watches the incoming freshmen and thinks back on how she felt when she was younger and similarly clueless. It doesn’t take age to feel old, just experience.

But I didn’t spend the whole time feeling older; I learned from Natalie as well. Every so often, she’ll drop a nugget of wisdom, such as “no one ever got better by hiding from the things they weren’t good at.” Those are scattered in amongst her daily activities, but there’s also the rare reflection page, such as November 12.

I very much admire Natalie’s discipline, in keeping this visual journal in such dedicated fashion (even though, at times, she went back and filled in pages, so it wasn’t always daily), and more, her talent, in making what can be a static format so varied. Her strong lines and deep tones make for attractive, easy-to-read pages with expressive figures, putting us right there with her in all the key events of this formative year.

I am very jealous she got to take a “History of Superheroes” class. I mean, yeah, I taught that in college once, but it was only one lecture in a comparative media course. A whole class? Wow. That theme, of actually learning comics during college, kept popping up and pleasantly surprising me. It demonstrated to me how much difference there was between my and her school experiences in a more subtle way than the other references. Back then, it wasn’t until grad school that I could be open about reading and studying comics. But of course, I wasn’t an artist. Making the work is very different than just talking about it.

After the winter holidays, her life changes in some unexpected (to me) ways, as events revolve much more around making comics — for her thesis and for upcoming conventions. Perhaps that’s part of being a craftsperson I wasn’t aware of, that work comes early and takes the place of interviewing. Instead of you speaking, the art you make does it for you. I could still relate to her feelings of uncertainty, of wanting a settled future but it not being there yet. Still, she’s accomplishing a lot already.

Overall, this is the story of someone who’s on the cusp of starting “real life”, but reading (especially the last seasonal section of spring) shows us how much she’s already there. Natalie makes some big decisions, but as she points out, the difficultly comes when you have to choose between two good things. I can see this book becoming a perennial, an excellent gift for young people in similar situations (especially aspiring artists) to see how someone else coped.

The print collection has a bonus section in which Natalie shows us her preparation for this project, with some draft pages, as well as discussing her artistic process. She also includes a song list, additional short autobio comics, and some notes on what happened after she graduated. Note: My copy had a misprint, where November 5 was replaced by a duplicate October 26, so I have linked the correct one here. Also, May 11 was replaced by a duplicate May 21.

The Shark King

Although the art takes full advantage of the island setting, the story is one familiar to any fan of legends. The shark king, who can take human form, encounters a beautiful woman. They fall in love, marry, and have a child. The father leaves to return to the sea, but the child has his unusual abilities. So long as they live apart, the mother and child are happy in their remote home, surrounded by nature and feeding on the fish in the sea, but soon enough other humans discover them. The child is thought to be a monster, so he must return to his father, restoring the usual order of things.

It’s the images that will stay with me, especially their lovely pastel shades. They make a quiet, natural island life seem like the perfect escape. Bright lemon day skies turn into calm, blue-grey nights. Both the land’s vegetation and the sea’s creatures are brightly colored, showing the munificence of both environments.

The messages are subtle and should be discussed with young readers. The child comes close to destroying the human village because he doesn’t understand sharing or wise management of resources. His selfishness and what it means isn’t explicitly addressed in the story, requiring thoughtful evaluation to realize his effect on others. The father/son relationship means that the wife/mother is left alone, which may be concerning. There’s a lack of explanation of what finally happens to some of the main characters, with them disappearing from the book to an assumed existence elsewhere, which readers might need guidance to envision.

There’s a lot to unpack here, which makes this recommended for grades 2-3, according to the book’s reading scale. They should enjoy the imaginative characters and setting and like the idea of being a secret, magical prince.

The publisher has posted preview pages and provided a review copy.

Unterzakhn

Esther, fascinated by the costumes and makeup of the fancy ladies who visit their mother’s corset shop, winds up cleaning for the dancers at the “theater” (the front for a whorehouse). Esther sees the first part of the sex act, Fanya the aftermath, and it shapes both girls’ lives in twisted ways. (The title is Yiddish for “underthings”.)

Corman’s caricatures are striking and distinctive, making the exaggerated characters come alive, and she provides a great, detailed view of the times. Her unique style, with its curved lines, is well-suited to a story focusing on a variety of women’s bodies and the limited options available to them. The girls struggle to be more than their mother’s helpers, a boy’s plaything, a wife responsible for a gaggle of brats.

Corman does an excellent job dropping the reader into this particular time and place, especially with her frequent use of Yiddish. The many words aren’t translated, but they’re clear from context. By being slightly uncertain just what’s being discussed, the reader is put in the girls’ place when it comes to hearing the adults talk about matters relating to sex. Although a period piece, the underlying concerns, especially those related to a woman’s control of her own body, remain particularly timely.

The publisher’s website has more information, and their blog posted some Yiddish explanations, or visit Leela’s website. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

As many of you know, MAD Magazine didn’t start out being the bane of American institutions like the government, entertainment, and just plain stupidity that it’s known and loved for being today — itself becoming quite the “stupid” institution, as well as often holding the role of a child’s right of passage into snark and realization that not everything is what it appears to be.

MAD was first conceived in 1952 as a four-color comic book by editor/writer/artist Harvey Kurtzman (you’ve probably seen his name on comic awards — and for good reason) and publisher William M. Gaines. Gaines was best known at that time for his fan-favorite line of EC Comics. Their horror, crime, and even sci-fi and military titles were coming under fire by crazed government officials, psychiatrists, and parents in the 1950s. After all of the other EC Comics titles had been canceled (forced out by the creation of the Comics Code Authority and then blackballed by most distributors), MAD was the sole surviving EC publication. And for it to survive, it was decided to turn it into the magazine (therefore bypassing CCA restrictions) that we know and love today.

The Sincerest Form of Parody

MAD (the comic book) ran for 23 issues before the format change in 1955. Here’s a couple of things about MAD that you might not know.

MAD-Fact #1: All of the early issues lost money. When it began, MAD was literally the first of its type — the first regular satire/parody comic book. According to John Benson’s informative (and detailed) essay that wraps up this volume, no one knew how to rack MAD on the comic racks. There was nothing else like it to set it next to. And it came out in a boom year for comic books; a whopping 643 different comics were issued in 1952 (a record never topped until the modern era), so it was bound to be lost in the shuffle. The only promotion it ever got was house ads in the other EC Comics titles.

MAD-Fact #2: Despite this, MAD quickly became a huge hit, and by 1954, it had spawned more than a dozen imitators, with names like Panic (also published by EC), Whack, Eh!, Crazy, Wild, Riot, Get Lost!, Nuts!, Madhouse, Bughouse, Flip, and Unsane (my favorite). None of them lasted more than seven issues. Several were one-and-done!

These wonderfully “unsane” comics are the basis of this new 208-page full-color softcover book, The Sincerest Form of Parody: The Best 1950s MAD-Inspired Satirical Comics. It’s edited by comics historian John Benson (Romance Without Tears, original EC Library: Mad), with a highly educational and entertaining 26-page “Notes” section (actually a long, illustrated essay), and a short introduction by underground legend Jay Lynch (Bijou Funnies, Wacky Packages). The rest is filled with wonderful selections of these early parody comics, by some of the best in the industry at the time.

MAD was primarily known for the work of its “main” artists: Kurtzman, Jack Davis, Wally Wood, John Severin, and the king of “chicken fat” art, Will Elder. Elder created the term in reference to soup production, as it “enhances the flavor of the soup”. In practice, it’s the addition of lots of background elements to a comic book story — funny background characters and business, gags, graffiti, and “sub-jokes” (as Kurtzman once described them). Elder was a master of the technique, and it became a regular component of the comic book parody format, as frequently seen throughout this book and absolutely inspired by Elder.

Since this work was all produced in an era before widespread exclusive contracts, a couple of the classic EC artists are also represented in The Sincerest Form of Parody, including Elder and Davis, as well as many other giants of the era — Jack Kirby, Joe Simon, Bill Everett, Norman Maurer, Carl Hubble, Dick Ayers, Al Hartley, Jay Disbrow, Howard Nostrand, Bob Powell, and the team of Ross Andru and Mike Esposito. There’s even a page by Archie artist Dan DeCarlo (although he signed it “Jock Brown”).

All of the stories included here were scanned directly from the comics, for that “authentic” pulp look. Yet the book is printed on high-quality, off-white, thick paper (so no bleed-through). It’s another in a long line of high-quality Fantagraphics productions.

Over 30 stories parodying then-current movies (From Here to Eternity), TV shows (What’s My Line), comic strips (Rex Morgan, M.D.), novels (I, the Jury), and even commercial products (Reingold Beer!) are represented, as well as several simply goofy humor stories. It’s the kind of book best read slow — maybe only a couple of stories a night — to savior the insanity. Although I know that these stories are probably the cream of the crop, I’m already ready for a Volume 2.

The Sincerest Form of Parody: The Best 1950s MAD-Inspired Satirical Comics is a wonderful book collecting the best stories of the beginnings of a favorite comic book genre — and I can’t emphasize this enough — it’s put together by people who know what they’re doing. Plus, it’s designed to fit on your bookshelf right next to your MAD Archives volumes.

I can’t believe that you haven’t already picked this up! Are you unsane?!? (The publisher provided a review copy.)

The Lovely Horrible Stuff

Some of the scenes — fighting with the kids over getting them out on their own, worries about a father-in-law’s retirement — are universal, while others are more oddly his own. Campbell begins with some thoughts on his own life as an artist, but he quickly wanders into the fanciful, discussing references to debt collecting with Shakespeare, making TV shows, and Australian animals shown on currency. Even the father-in-law becomes fantastic, with some stubbornly determined lawsuit involving a retirement home.

The second half of the book tells of a visit to the island of Yap, where great stone discs with holes in them served as traditional currency, although Campbell’s more interested in telling us of the lifestyle, history, and local tales than the economy.

In his own unique style, with small panels, some without borders, spaced amongst his hand-written narration, Campbell has added in a cut-and-paste element, using pieces of money within his illustrations and photos for backgrounds. After reading so much of Campbell’s autobiographical work in black and white for so many years, it was a bit of a shock to see the colors, especially with the broadly applied highlights. I kept thinking the characters had stumbled into or been splashed with light paint. It looks as though Campbell has discovered what the computer can do with comic art, but he hasn’t yet fully integrated that work into his traditional approach.

I’d find his creative meandering more entertaining if I wasn’t being so distracted by the glaring visual techniques. I may be too harsh on the book; it’s possible that, in print, it smoothes out and softens. (I read a digital review copy from the publisher.) Top Shelf has an online preview available. You can preorder The Lovely Horrible Stuff from your local comic store with the Previews code MAR12 1193.

Baby’s in Black

Arne Bellstorf‘s version of this classic rock-and-roll story was published last year in Europe by SelfMadeHero. It’s told from Astrid’s perspective, and Bellstorf interviewed her as background. The book opens in 1960, with a friend’s first viewing of the young band in a rough area of town, and runs through 1962, just after Stu’s sudden demise.

We follow Astrid from meeting the band, taking pictures of them staged with her artist’s eye, and her developing a relationship with Stu (who also wanted to be an artist, leaving the band to do so). We’re told friends saw them as fated to be together, in spite of her limited English and his poor German. My favorite scenes involve her, him, and her mother, in quiet domesticity after he moved in with them.

The work is strongly shaded, with solid chunks of black used as clothes that signify being an artist and dark nights and neighborhoods. All the characters resemble each other, with the same large almond eyes, expressions, and scribbled-on blushing cheeks, although you can recognize the various members of the Beatles.

It’s a fast read, especially if you already know the story, but it gives a good feel of the era and what it felt like to live through this, before anyone knew the Beatles would change the world. I would have liked to have seen some examples of Stuart’s art, especially since that’s what he chose over music. We’re told numerous times how professors and others admire his talent, but none of his actual work is shown.

I still don’t have a good impression for any of these characters as people, because they fit too closely into roles — the artist dying young and his creative girlfriend — and the story’s been told too often. There’s something almost mythological about the lost potential of someone gone too soon and so abruptly, thus we’re drawn to this tale, especially with the connection to the world’s most famous band and their early struggles. I suspect most readers of this volume will already know the story, so I’m not sure how much more they’re going to get from this version, unless it’s enjoying the very cute renditions of the characters.

There are preview pages available at the publisher’s website. The book can be preordered through comic shops with Previews code MAR12 1075. It’s due out in early May. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Government Issue

The first section is dedicated to the military. This isn’t surprising, since many readers will be most familiar with those types of public interest comics, having perhaps heard of Will Eisner’s work on PS. According to Graham, from the historical overview he provides as an introduction, the majority of government comics are produced by the Department of Defense as either illustrated manuals or for propaganda purposes.

In this chapter, there’s not just wartime training work or indoctrination images, there’s also recruitment brochures and a more modern publication on how to handle the now-repealed “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” military policy. The covers and page selections are annotated by Graham to provide additional context.

Additional chapters include economic subjects, including how Social Security works; health and safety, with an odd piece in which Sally from Peanuts gets an eyepatch to treat “lazy eye”; and “the American way”, covering politics and regions. Famous cartoonists with work here include Eisner, of course, along with Milt Caniff, Walt Disney, Dr. Seuss, Neal Adams, Denis Kitchen, and Dan DeCarlo. Blondie and Dagwood (promoting mental health), Dennis the Menace (warning against poison), Supergirl (telling kids to wear car safety belts), Mark Trail (for safe water), Smokey Bear, Pogo (teaching parents how to have their kids watch TV wisely), and Li’l Abner also make appearances.

The book overall is like sitting down with a friend with an interesting hobby, where he shows you all the cool things he’s been finding. It’s a wonderful grab bag, fun to flip through, and full of forgotten trivia. My favorite pieces are the two enlistment comics aimed at getting women to join the WAF or the WAVES, because patronizing as they can be, it’s still neat to see comics aimed at convincing women to get an education and travel the world to improve their abilities and confidence.

Purchasers of the book will find a code to a website that provides full versions of a few of the comics that are only excerpted here. As always with an Abrams publication, I’m impressed by the quality and value. This substantial, 300-page book has thick paper and solid binding, so that even though it’s a paperback, it feels sturdy, easy to read without damaging the book. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Silent Partner

Silent Partner is based on a novel originally published in 1989, the fourth in the Alex Delaware series by Jonathan Kellerman. Delaware is a child psychologist who solves murder mysteries, and the newest book in that series, Victims, comes out the same day as this graphic novel adaptation, for cross-promotion purposes.

I haven’t read the novels, but I’ve been a fan of Ande Parks’ crime writing since Capote in Kansas. He does an excellent job making this feel like a comic, not a repackaging. The plot is heavily twist-driven, and I found Michael Gaydos’ realistic style a big help in keeping all the characters straight in a story that depends on multiple identities and likenesses. Some of the cast are two-dimensional, at best, a collection of stereotypical roles, but the images help flesh them out.

I don’t want to say too much about the plot, but here’s the opening premise: Alex and his girlfriend Robin have separated. An old friend of Alex’s drags him to a fancy party, where he unexpectedly meets a former love of his life. She commits suicide shortly thereafter, and Alex tries to figure out what happened, eventually discovering a twisted, tortured past.

No previous knowledge of the Delaware character or books is required, especially since our lead narrates much of what we need to know. It’s a gripping read that maybe didn’t need to be a comic, but I only read it because it was, so perhaps that answers that question. The visuals certainly help set the stage for the flashbacks in terms of period fashions. And it’s one of those books where I wanted to re-read it just after I finished, now that I know what happened, to figure out all the double-crosses and plot reverses.

A preview has been posted at suvudu.com. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Drawing on her own home-schooling experiences, but not sinking into autobiography, Hicks tells the story of Maggie, the youngest of four siblings and the only girl in the family. They’d all previously been taught by their mother, but she has recently departed (like Maggie, we’re not sure why), and now Maggie is going to public school, high school, for the first time.

Friends With Boys

The situation of being thrown into a new, overwhelming academic environment is classic in the young adult genre, but Hicks freshens it by layering more reasons for Maggie to struggle. Beyond her close-knit family, where her only companions (and the only ones she needed) growing up were her brothers, there’s another element that sets Maggie apart — she sees a ghost at the local graveyard. Readers of Hicks’ works won’t be surprised that she uses a fantasy element as symbolism for Maggie’s disconnection with her peer group and a sign of her non-standard way of growing up.

The cemetary foregrounds another of Hicks’ outstanding skills: her sense of place. The book is set in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, and Hicks’ beautiful illustrations of the location ground the tale. Particularly impressive are shots of the family home and their neighborhood. Also stunning is the depth of the character portraits Hicks has created. I want to hang out with Maggie and meet her comforting chief of police father and her new friends Lucy and her brother Alistair (a bit of the artsy crowd, just right for a loner unsure of what she has to offer). They seem so three-dimensional and interesting and vibrant.

Maggie’s biggest brother, Daniel, rides herd on her and the twins, Xander and Lloyd, but it’s very clear, even through hijinks, that they all care very much for each other. Daniel’s advice is good, and he knows just when to help and when to let Maggie work things out on her own. This comes after she’s surprised by how much she doesn’t know about Daniel and his life outside of their home; all of the characters have robust backstories, some of which we discover in surprising ways as the book continues.

One of Maggie’s major growth markers is how she learns to have and believe in her own opinions, different from her brothers. Just because they do or don’t get along with someone, that doesn’t have to affect how she relates to that person. The concept of having to make your own choices and set your own path is particularly apparent when it comes to the twins, since their struggles with independence are even more pronounced, having always been together until now. Everyone in the book is learning to cope with change, whether chosen or not, but their path is particularly painful.

All of this is conveyed through Hicks’ expressive reaction shots that put you right there with what the characters are thinking. The wordless sequence where Lucy sees Alien for the first time is a masterpiece. The discussion that follows, about the importance of finding pop culture role models you can love is pretty good, too. Previously, some (including me) compared her work to that of Bryan Lee O’Malley due to some superficial similarities (blocky heads, big eyes), but this book should stop that, since it clearly establishes how Hicks has come into her own style.

For a very short time, you can read Friends With Boys online. In a week or two, now that the print version is available, the site will switch to just hosting preview pages, although Hicks’ excellent commentary on the book and creating comics as a career will remain. I’m very disappointed that, since the author’s notes were written after the print version was published, all these wonderful observations aren’t included in print. I would love to buy an expanded edition with them, or even a supplemental self-published volume, just so I could read through them together. I know I’ll be coming back to this story again and again, just to marvel at Hicks’ artistic accomplishments and hope and dream with Maggie. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Spring 2011

Silly Lilly in What Will I Be Today?

Silly Lilly in What Will I Be Today?
by Agnes Rosenstiehl

I didn’t care much for the previous Silly Lilly book, but this one is much more focused. Each four-page sequence, with two panels per page, shows Lilly engaged in some new activity, from cooking (which has some color surprises) to making music with her toys as audience.

While the figure art is oddly flat, with Lilly shown in perfect profile, the portrait of her movement and creativity, energy and imagination, is attractive and involving. The pictures are crucial to supporting the simple vocabulary and sentences. Lilly’s choices are suitably off-kilter for a kid, too; I laughed at the idea that one of her choices was “vampire”.

Patrick in A Teddy Bear’s Picnic
and Other Stories

Patrick in A Teddy Bear’s Picnic and Other Stories
by Geoffrey Hayes

Hayes has previously created three other books in the Toon line, all starring brother and sister mice Benny and Penny, Just Pretend, The Big No-No!, and The Toy Breaker. Here, he returns to his earlier children’s book character, Patrick, a baby bear.

There are two longer stories and two interstitials about naptime in this volume. In the first tale, Patrick and his mother go on a picnic, and not even the bully Big Bear can spoil the day. There’s sailing a boat on the river and flowers and hide-and-seek, all classic, comfortable family activities. The second is another showdown with Big Bear, as he tries to steal the cookies Patrick’s mom sent him to buy. The solution Patrick finds is traditional, if based a little on wishful thinking.

The characters are adorable, a cross between koalas and stuffed animals. The clearly warm feeling between mother and son should be touching and reassuring to young readers.

Fall 2011

Benjamin Bear in Fuzzy Thinking

Benjamin Bear in Fuzzy Thinking
by Philippe Coudray

Like Agnes Rosenstiehl, Coudray is French, and this work has been translated. It’s more traditionally comic-like than many of the other books in the line, with multiple panels on the page and less of a children’s book illustrative style.

Each page is a titled story of its own, with silly endings that show how the bear always gets the best of every situation. He’s got rabbit and bear and fox friends, and they do bizarre things, including painting, fishing, karate, and hang-gliding.

With all the content, this book is a great value with a lot of imaginative situations. It’ll encourage a new way of looking at the world for the reader, focused on problem-solving with what you have and teamwork. This was my favorite of the bunch, because it had the most to think about.

Nina in That Makes Me Mad!

Nina in That Makes Me Mad!
by Hilary Knight, based on text by Steven Kroll

Knight is best known for illustrating Kay Thompson’s Eloise series, so adults sharing this book with kids will welcome the familiar style. The children, meanwhile, will love Nina’s outspokenness and the firm focus on what she wants and what she doesn’t like.

Each double-page spread is a short vignette of Nina, whether being blamed for her little brother acting up or demonstrating she’s capable of more than her parents think. She’s a little girl, so she’s not always right, and she welcomes guidance when it truly helps her. She also demands attention and hates to go to bed, just like a real kid.

It’s a charming collection of incidents, and the book encourages communication, so kids don’t have to suffer alone.

Spring 2012

Chick & Chickie Play All Day!

Chick & Chickie Play All Day!
by Claude Ponti

One of the many reasons Toon Books are neat is their focus on art and artists. I just noticed that the copyright page lists the method of creation of the work; in this case, it’s “ink and watercolors”. That’s a fascinating insight into how comics come to be.

This is a book for younger readers, with one image per page. The two birds make masks, and then they play with a letter A with a face. It’s a goofy book. I wish the space had been used more effectively — there are sequences where one page out of the spread of two is almost blank.

Zig and Wikki in The Cow

Zig and Wikki in The Cow
by Nadja Spiegelman & Trade Loeffler

Spiegelman, daughter of Toon Books Editorial Director Francoise Mouly, returns to the line with another Zig and Wikki book. The two alien characters provide an excuse for science education content. In this case, they’re visiting a farm, where they learn about interconnected ecosystems.

Loeffler’s art is terrific, with bold lines surrounding foreground figures to draw the reader’s eye. He can handle both the fantastic, exaggerated aliens (one resembles a talking TV screen) while his natural items (such as the cows) are close enough to the real world to be believable.

Kids will be fascinated by some of the grosser occurrences, as the aliens investigating flies and dung beetles that live off of poop. They’ll also learn how a cow eats and burps.

Possessions: The Better House Trap

I was thrilled to see that the book opened with a sketch showing us how one of the other inhabitants of Ms. Llewellyn-Vane’s mansion for captured spirits and ghostly curiosities came to be part of the living museum. We haven’t seen enough of their histories for my taste, but that just means Ray Fawkes has created characters that leave me wanting more. The Pale Lady seems to have used her beheading as a reason to grow up and focus on something other than her appearance. I want to see everyone’s stories; that requires patience for books to come.

Gurgazon remains the supernatural equivalent of a particularly rambunctious toddler, with the usual destructiveness ramped up to exorcism levels. Its nemesis is the all-seeing butler Mr. Thorne, and this time Gurgazon’s got help to run away. Gurgazon has figured out that the best time to rally the compatriots to escape is when Thorne is out finding another spirit. Gurgazon’s arranged for Thorne to enter a house-trap, only Gurgazon doesn’t understand what Thorne really is. (Neither does the reader, but we get more hints along the way.)

The simplified cartooning keeps everything light-hearted, which helps with a cast of weird monsters. They’re almost cuddly at times. And then Gurgazon will do something silly, like pretending to be harmless, in such a superficial, obvious way that it’s hilarious. Throughout the story, there are a number of shifts in tone, from humor to horror, and Fawkes handles them well while setting up a promising new conflict for the next book. This is the first time Gurgazon comes close to living up to its frightening title, which intrigues me. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

Uglies: Shay’s Story

The key premise, a world where everyone is made pretty via surgery at the age of 16, is explained through Shay’s narration. She’s a young rebel who hoverboards out to the wild ruins past the city, where she finds David and other teenagers who want to escape their regimented urban life. Soon, she faces a significant choice: accept the way her society works and get the operation, or be true to herself although it requires struggle and harder work.

It’s a familiar story, but an entertainingly told one, although I was surprised at how short the chapters were. (There are 23 in the fewer than 200 pages of story.) It seems I was just getting into the moment when the scene would change. Perhaps the book is better aimed at the younger reader, with a different attention span.

I also found it strange that Shay was drawn so cute (as shown here), when we’re being told she’s skinny and imperfect. That’s the point of the premise, that everyone is pretty in their own way, but it’s backed up by the polish Steven Cummings puts on all the characters. The visuals are also a feature that the graphic novel has over the text novels, being able to show us the author’s vision of his characters. There’s more about that in the short sketchbook section at the back, which presents Cummings’ design drafts with Scott Westerfeld’s comments.

My biggest problem with the book is its drawing point for series fans. When Tally, the protagonist of the novels, shows up, the story assumes we know some things a new reader won’t. Shay falls hard for her (in a platonically best friend way), and I just didn’t see the appeal. We don’t get much sense of Tally as a character, perhaps to avoid duplicating the book material, and what we do see isn’t particularly likable. Her section of the book, the last third, reads as more rushed than the pacing to that point.

The art throughout Shay’s Story is active and attractive, with Cummings taking every advantage to show us Shay’s sense of adventure. She seems to live on her hoverboard, zooming around, playing pranks, and hacking tech. It’s a fun, light-hearted read that still provokes opinions about how important appearance is and should be. (Even if it does engage in its own stereotyping about pretty people being less intelligent.)

The concluding second volume is due out within the year. You can read the first chapter online via Amazon. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Picking up where the first volume left off, Howard finds out the banished King Abdul has a new ally. Abdul is coming after Howard and the book Howard has been tasked to guard. Howard’s adventures have him teaming up with his not-as-crazy-as you-thought father and a remarkably well-armed local policeman.

Howard Lovecraft
and the Undersea Kingdom

I asked my nephew Christopher (now 10) to help me in reviewing this book, since he enjoyed the first volume. Christopher really enjoyed this book and read it quickly. He said it was a good adventure story with major twists and turns. He didn’t find the book scary at all. In fact, he thought was a good blend of action and humor. He found the policeman and his cat particularly funny.

Christopher admired Howard’s bravery and liked him as a character. However, Christopher didn’t want to be friends with Howard because he is surrounded by people Christopher hopes to never meet.

I asked about the art. Christopher thought the art was good and easy to follow. He liked the colors used in the book. They let the reader know that the book could be creepy or eerie at times. He especially liked the change of art style when Howard is given a vision of Azathoth. It really caught his attention.

This was the first chance I had to have Christopher read a comic book on the iPad. For the most part, it was a positive experience, but it wasn’t impressive enough to get him to give up physical books. The boy is a true bibliophile in the making. For him, comics on the iPad meant other kids couldn’t bend or mark on pages. He didn’t like how carefully you have to hold the device to keep the display in portrait mode.

For myself, I also enjoyed the book and found it a very quick read. Brown has done a solid job of crafting his own all-ages verison of the Lovecraft universe. Honestly, I didn’t imagine you could do that. I’m happy that kids like my nephew will get some exposure to H.P. Lovecraft and that this series could encourage them to check out Lovecraft’s own writings one day.

I welcomed the change of artists. Boatwright is a better draftsman, and Howard now has a proper character design. Thankfully, the use of watercolor tones was retained, since it’s one of the aspects of the art I liked from the first volume. There’s a lot of use of green in this book, and Christopher is right, it does an excellent job setting the proper mood.

Both Christopher and I recommend this book to kids who enjoy a good action-adventure story. It’s been two years since the first volume appeared. I’d like to see another volume come out next year. A volume every other year will only hurt the series. It’s a lot to ask of adults to wait that long, never mind kids. Lovecraft fans should do like I did and order two copies: one to keep and one to pass on to a child reader or to give to your local library.

Arcana has a five-page preview for the book on their website. You can preorder the book through Diamond using the item code JAN12 0814 or order through Amazon. (An advance PDF review copy was provided by the publisher.)

written by Dave Dwonch; art by Daniel Logan
Action Lab Entertainment, $7

Everyone’s had the thought at one point or another: what if I could go back and make things work out better? In this short graphic novel, three friends, together since high school, create a time machine and return to the summer of 1987, when their lives still stretched in front instead of behind them. One of them, Darren, is obsessed with what might have been if he’d ever spoken to the girl he had a crush on. The settled married guy wishes he’d played around a little more. The third, the self-declared ladies’ man, regrets not sleeping with a classmate’s mom.

Basically, this is Hot Tub Time Machine done right. The guys are authentically crude, at times, but the emphasis here isn’t on stupid barrel-bottom jokes; instead, it’s about how we become the people we are. What we want, and whether it’s sensible and what it does to us.

The characters are nicely expressive, with emphasis on their feelings and reactions. Although the figures can be a tad inconsistent, Logan has an excellent grasp of body language. He also handles the young/old versions well in their resemblances.

There were only a small number of books, 500, printed, but you can get it digitally for half the print price.

One Model Nation

One Model Nation

written by Courtney Taylor-Taylor; art by Jim Rugg
Titan Books, $24.95

The incoherent tale of a German band caught up in politics in the 1970s by someone who really wanted to be there. (Which makes this an interesting book to read right after Back in the Day.) I presume this would make a lot more sense to those who already know the stories and people of the era. I couldn’t have figured out what was going on without the introduction, explaining the premise. The story is flat and boring, so much so I couldn’t finish it.

I would have rather read the book about how this graphic novel came to be, with Mike Allred (who helped this get made and contributed some drawings of David Bowie, a high point of the book) gushing over the experience of meeting Taylor-Taylor, whose Dandy Warhols band is one of his favorites. There’s something strange about how they allude to this being a republishing (it previously came out from Image) without going into any details, even with extras related to the previous version. Perhaps they needed it back in print to sell to CTT fans; that’s the best audience for this book.

The Adventures of the 19XX

The Adventures of the 19XX

by Paul Roman Martinez
The19xx.com, $17.95

I want to call this a steampunk historical webcomic, but since it’s post-1900, I think the preferred term is “dieselpunk”. Anyway, this first collection is titled “Rise of the Black Faun”. There’s a select group of scientists and explorers, formed post-WW I, who know that another Great War is coming and are trying to make sure the Good Guys win by hunting down mysterious inventions and magical relics. A 15-year-old boy is new to the group, and he promptly finds himself in the middle of the action as he meets everyone.

The author’s active, adventure-based nostalgia for the time period shines through, even though the writing is purely functional, without much style beyond informing the reader of the basics. The art is similarly practical, getting the job done. The only time a particular visual image impressed me was the occasional full-page splash, although the costumes and settings were fun in their detail. Panel-to-panel flow sometimes feels stiff and choppy, but that’s not unexpected in a first-time project.

I love the 30s without needing to jazz up the period with mystically powered spheres or other artifacts, but those who wish there were more Indiana Jones stories might want to start following the webcomic.

The Next Day

The Next Day

written by Paul Peterson and Jason Gilmore; art by John Porcellino
Pop Sandbox, $16.95

This spare, black-and-white book is based on interviews with four people who have attempted suicide. The recollections of what led up to it are interspersed, with each page bearing one of the four names in the bottom corner to allow the reader to keep the stories straight. I found the structure distracting. I believe the writers want us to see the similarities among the stories of depression, molestation, and substance abuse, but it was difficult to remember which trauma went with which speaker when you’re only reading a page of their story at a time.

Porcellino’s extremely simple art keeps the focus on the text — this is a book that can be read through the captions only, with the minimal images reinforcing the narration in the subjects’ own voices. It comes very close to not needing to be a comic, but Porcellino’s use of symbolism, such as word balloons filled with hearts and musical notes to show the happy people, enhances the text in a subtle way.

I was surprised at how downbeat it was. Given the title, I expected more focus on what happened after they survived, but the majority of the book is what led up to the decision to commit suicide, with relatively little information on the aftermath. It’s a difficult topic, and I applaud the creators taking it on. I can imagine finding this book may help others know they’re not alone. However, as an artistic creation, I thought the book was flawed, although the intentions are excellent. There’s an interactive documentary online, as well as a book preview.

Hidden

by Mirranda Burton
Black Pepper Publishing, $20

One of a number of graphic memoirs inspired by the success of Persepolis, but I appreciated the confident blacks on display in the solid art. Burton teaches art to intellectually disabled adults in Australia, and the stories here deal with how it is to work with people who don’t operate the way others do. “Memoir” is somewhat incorrect, since we learn nothing about Burton herself, why she came to this job, or her life outside it.

The first character introduced, Eddie, speaks only in sounds, but his obvious care for others in the face of his own obsessions is touching. Eddie’s verbal tic is illustrated through pencil scratchings in his word balloons, a visual technique that sums him up elegantly. Steve is annoying in many ways, his focus on illustrating the weather report only a small one. The autistic Julie is obsessed by rock’n'roll and literally hides behind her art. It’s not all discouraging, though. One patient, Kate, shows improvement through diet changes and art therapy. Underlying all these glimpses into moments in patients’ lives is a fear of encroaching budget cuts.

If you liked Psychiatric Tales and wanted more, this would be a good next choice.

Rise: The Story of the Egyptian Revolution as Written Shortly Before It Began

Rise

by Tarek Shahin
Self-Published, $12.99

The “Al Khan” comic strip ran daily in The Daily News Egypt from 2008-2010. This book collects those comics, and like most daily strips, each one ends with a joke punchline. I found that structure a little off-putting in this collection, with its tie-in to last year’s pro-democracy protests. When people died to bring about political change, it’s weird reading gags about the situation — although that’s also one of the contradictions of humanity, that we need a light-hearted moment to make such nation-changing events more bearable.

The cartooning is good, although many of the references will pass by the American reader. Other strips, those that involve the personal lives of the various journalist characters, will seem more universal. I found those relating to the idea of multiple wives particularly foreign and particularly eye-opening. Many of the strips tackle the roles of women, which I was most interested in.

Rise is an excellent example of international comic-making and how examples of the medium can reflect world events. Anyone interested in modern Muslim culture should check it out.

(Review copies were provided for many of the above.)

Tina’s Mouth

I didn’t mind reading it, although it will clearly resonate much more with an audience that’s 1) closer in age to its protagonist and 2) less familiar with the comics it’s being compared to. The marketing department keeps mentioning Persepolis. I understand why, I think — autobiographies (or those that seem like they could be) are the most successful comic genre in the mainstream book market, and that book was an eye-opener for a lot of people in the industry as well as a sales success. As another story of a non-white teen girl growing up, I suppose Tina’s Mouth does have SOMEthing in common with Marjane Satrapi’s better-known work, but my concern is that the tone is so very different. Tina’s story is set in Southern California, where the big struggle is getting a role in the school play; Persepolis was about surviving a repressive political culture that might kill you for deviating from the norm. A better comparison for Tina’s Mouth would be Sweet Valley High in comic form. Someone who picks this up looking for another Persepolis will be sorely disappointed, and they likely won’t see the charms of Tina’s Mouth taken on its own terms.

While I’m criticizing the marketing instead of engaging with the book itself, I also don’t care for the tendency to label works of this type as “by (writer); illustrated by (artist)”, as though the roles were grossly unequal in contribution. Unless Keshni Kashyap knew enough about comics to dictate what all the images would be and how they were placed — and I don’t believe that, given that this is her first graphic novel; she’s previously been a filmmaker — then the work should be credited as co-authors to acknowledge the partnership of creation.

So, back to the content of the book. As an assignment in her Honors English course in existential philosophy, Tina begins keeping a diary. She lives in California and goes to a private school, so you can imagine that she doesn’t have many struggles, although she’s still trying to figure out which groups she wants to be part of in a clique-ridden world while worrying about when she’ll get her first kiss. Meanwhile, her former best friend is more interested in chasing boys and being a clotheshorse. As we follow Tina through the semester, she gets to know new people and tries new experiences.

That was one of my favorite things about the book. Its messages, to try new things, to find yourself, to engage with your family without being defined by them, are all encouraging and supportive. This is the kind of story teen girls can learn from while enjoying Tina’s drama and accomplishments.

The line drawings by Mari Araki are both accomplished and welcoming in their simple style. At times, her portraits of Tina reminded me of paper dolls, which suited the story, as Tina tried on different roles. What I liked best about the book was the way its non-white heroine was handled. Her ethnicity is a significant part of her life but not the sole defining factor. This would be a great book for a school setting to encourage understanding of diverse viewpoints and the similarity of experience across cultural barriers. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

Miss Annie: Freedom!

There’s a built-in audience for cat comics, which makes it surprising that there aren’t more of them. If you’ve finished with the latest Chi’s Sweet Home and are looking for more, you’ll want to check out Freedom!. Coming this spring, this is the first in an intended series of Miss Annie books.

Miss Annie belongs to a couple, one a writer, the other an editor, who have a daughter, Sarah. Not much happens in this slim book — the cat walks around her house, telling us what belongs to whom, attacks a flower bouquet, and so on — but it’s refreshing and relaxing to enjoy this kind of virtual pet. In later chapters, she befriends a mouse and ventures outside for the first time. (Judging by Binky the Space Cat, this is a common feline desire.)

The creators are French, so instead of a manga style, Freedom! has a European flavor, with a lovely autumnal palette of browns, greens, and golds. (Colors are by Robin Doo.) The cat’s unique pattern of coloring, with her half-white face, catches the reader’s eye and keeps her at the focus of attention. I was particularly tickled when they’d show her stretching her neck, as seen here:

There’s some subtle humor in how Miss Annie interprets her owners’ lives, similar to the alternate take on the adult world shown in Sugar and Spike, but most of the appeal is simply spending time with this curious cat, seeing what she does and what interests her. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

Finder: Voice

In an echo back to the original Finder: Sin-Eater, Finder: Voice revisits one of the cross-breed daughters from that story. Rachel resembles her mother, a Llaverac, one of a clan known for its androgynous beauties. As the story opens, she is competing to validate her full membership in the clan. However, one of the requirements is that she presents her inherited ring, which has been stolen from her in a mugging. As she attempts to find the mysterious Jaeger, her mother’s ex-lover, to get his help finding the lost heirloom, she wanders through various levels of the city and its society.

Don’t worry, you don’t need to have read any of the previous volumes to enjoy this thought-provoking story, although if you have, some mysteries from those earlier books will become clearer here. Carla’s humor is as sharp as ever, with the way the “cat show”, as outsiders refer to the clan parade, satirizes expectations of beauty and conformity. Among other things (many other things), Finder: Voice looks at what appearance means and the effects it has. More, it explores what it means to belong.

Weird as this society could be, with its rules and conventions, I found myself worrying for Rachel, who only wants to gain some acceptance and security for her family the sole way she can. As kids of parents from different tribes, their lives have been hard, although their mother has tried her best to protect them from it. (And heck, having explicit rules might be easier than the unspoken ones we end up living under.)

As always, Carla’s creations make up a complex, fascinating world, between the bits she reveals in throwaway dialogue and her fully realized portraits of the cast members. She provides copious and insightful notes in the back of the book, revealing more of her intent, filling in background, pointing out details the reader likely missed, and acknowledging influences. I’m always left breathless by Finder books because of the immensity of what we aren’t shown and the skill of the story we do get.

Matthew J. Brady analyzes some of the art from this volume, while Greg McElhatton praises the book in more depth. The book’s website is FinderComics.com, or visit Carla Speed McNeil’s site.