This autobiography is about how Mike Dawson loved the music of Freddie Mercury and moved from the United Kingdom to the United States as a child. As such, I expected it to address in some fashion these topics:

• Why Queen’s music was so appealing to him
• How the near-death revelation of Mercury’s homosexuality and his having AIDS affected him
• The culture clash between England and the U.S.

Freddie & Me
Buy this book

I think those are basic questions most people would have when told a book was about those subjects. Unfortunately, none of them are addressed in any significant fashion. I wanted to known why Queen mattered so much to Dawson, so much so that he tracks what happens in his life by what he was listening to, but instead of insight, I got anecdotes. Some are funny — Dawson tries to sing Bohemian Rhapsody at a talent contest when he’s 10, only to be ushered off the stage early — but many are overly familiar, especially to anyone who’s read any other comic autobiographies about male geek artists. I feel like one of the people he writes about, who don’t understand his love for the music, because he never explains it to me.

I was left with the questions no autobiographical cartoonist wants to hear: what’s so special about your life? why should I bother reading about it? The most significant section of the book, in my opinion, is a between-chapters reflection on what memory is, what determines how we remember things, and how we change memories into stories. That was new and unusual. The rest, not so much.

The artwork is well-done and easy-to-read, populated with appealing blobby caricatures. The book is a rambling wander, although an impressive achievement at over 300 pages.

A preview chapter and podcast interview was posted at USA Today. This interview at the Comics Reporter reveals more about the author’s goals. Mike Dawson has posted background material at his blog, including deleted pages. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Birth of a Nation
Buy this book

When black voters in East St. Louis go to the polls, they discover that they’ve all been tagged felons and aren’t allowed to vote. The shenanigans result in an idiot Texas governor illegitimately becoming President. Although the Supreme Court says injustice was done, they refuse to correct it, leading the Mayor to secede his city from the union. The government has failed them, whether on the huge scale of disenfranchisement or with small things, like not picking up the garbage.

Starting a new nation comes with all kind of questions, big and tiny. There’s funding to be figured out, plus things like a country name, a flag, and an anthem. People love the idea of a scrappy underdog, but when it comes to day-to-day living, they still have to eat. Looking at how decisions get made shows the reader why we have the kind of bread-and-circus political system we do. Along the way, other targets of satire include consumerism, cultural appropriation, and ultimately, whether to do what’s right or what’s comfortable.

As events escalate — the baby nation risks actually becoming a threat to the US because of electronic money transfers, and a native East St. Louis Air Force officer, tired of military racism, steals a fighter jet and defects — battles are fought both in the media and literally, with a planned invasion. Unfortunately, the blockbuster special effects ending doesn’t really address all the questions raised by the premise, but it certainly ends things with a bang.

Hudlin’s introduction, about growing up in East St. Louis, provides important context. His list of events that are outrageous but true in the city’s history put this comic about political corruption in a new light. Baker’s caricature-like illustrations, heavy on character closeups in vibrant colors, are accompanied by dialogue underneath the rectangular panels. The storyboard-like presentation both speaks to the project’s original gestation as a movie script and makes for easy reading for those put off by word balloons. It’s not very good comics, but the thought-provoking comedy speaks to some of our biggest hopes and fears.

Paris
Buy this book

Gane’s art is detailed but flat. Although it uses grey tones to distinguish items, people, and background, to my eye, it all runs together, especially in the larger panels setting the stage. I wanted to be swept away by the romance of Paris, but the opening scenes felt like cliches that could happen in any city. I found myself skimming the book, reading only the text, when I didn’t stop and force myself to look at the pictures and puzzle out what they showed. There’s a lot in the detail, but it requires commitment to discover.

Juliet is studying art in Paris. To pay for school, she paints portraits on commission. Her latest subject is Deborah, an English heiress chaperoned abroad by a boring, ritual-bound aunt. The two share an appreciation for art, but Deborah’s being prepped to marry well as her only function in life.

The foreign city serves as a place where normal rules don’t apply, an escape from others’ expectations. Juliet’s trying to follow a dream, while Deborah’s just enjoying some time away from a regulated life.

As Greg McElhatton points out, it’s important to note that the story is set in the 1950s, which helps explain why some of the reactions seem so quaint. That’s only noted on the back cover, though, not in the text. Once you know that, you can see it in the clothes, for example, but many of the wannabe-bohemian outfits are also reflective of student choices throughout the decades.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot here to like, but it’s not as welcoming as I would have hoped. Perhaps that’s a subtle commentary on Paris’ notorious love/hate relationship with foreigners. The story is also slight; I was left wondering just how the two were going to handle the various obstacles mentioned or alluded to in the story, since none of them are resolved on the page. (Did Deborah marry? What happened to her relationship with her brother? How did Juliet’s family react? What do the two live on?)

The book also includes a section translating the French dialogue and noting titles and creators of the artworks shown, as well as some additional images of the characters. You can get a copy of the first of the four issues that make up this collection for free from the publisher. (You pay only shipping charges.) Some preview pages can be seen in this interview with Andi Watson. Simon Gane was interviewed by Tom Spurgeon. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Zombies Calling
Buy this book

Joss is a geek struggling with college exams and student loans. Her roommates are Robyn, who’s girl-crazy, and Sonnet, a goth who seems a little more comfortable in her own skin than Joss does. Joss’ main special quality is her love of zombie movies and her resulting understanding of the rules applying to them.

I don’t care much for zombies because too many people seem more interested in how gross they can be than in doing anything substantial with them. Hicks, on the other hand, wants to make a point about the university system and some of its flaws, so the zombies serve a purpose. Plus, I like the way Joss’ knowledge of a specific genre of pop culture works for her. By pointing out the similarities among all the films, Hicks provides a hook for someone like me to appreciate what Joss (and she) sees in them. And her observations were fresh (to me, at least).

I also appreciate the way Hicks gets right to the story. She establishes the characters skillfully and quickly in the first scene, then the action starts. Yet the expected elements are handled as well: the roommates’ disbelief at first, trying to continue with the needs of daily life, working out a survival plan. It kept my interest throughout, even when taking cracks at other zombie stories (”Fast zombies suck!”).

For those complaining that Hicks’ art looks too much like Bryan Lee O’Malley’s work, check this out. While still cartoony, her style here is more detailed than in Ellsmere, although it has the same strong, beautiful ink lines. The character expressions are terrific; I instantly felt like I knew this group and cared about them surviving, which added to the tension and suspense Hicks had already created.

The book also has a short sketch section at the end with Hicks’ comments on how she designed and developed the characters. Find out more at the artist’s website or in this online interview. Another interview has preview pages included. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

To promote putting 11 of their recent issues online (for purchase at $2.99 each, vs. a U.S. print cover price of $4.50), the long-running British anthology 2000 AD has made the first one downloadable for free. They self-describe as a “weird blend of pop culture, sci-fi and wry black humor”, and they were smart enough to start with an issue where several stories begin (which can be a concern when sampling anthologies).

You still have to create an account at DriveThruComics.com. Some will be severely disappointed that the site uses Comic Sans for their navigation.

Moresukine
Buy this book

One might expect that tasks from internet readers would focus on shallow, populist stereotypes of Japan, but the wide range of assignments provides a better overview than someone with a particular preconceived perspective. It’s motivated by an honest curiosity, both on Dirk’s part and from those sharing his experiences virtually, especially since Dirk would do what was asked regardless of whether it was something he would have chosen on his own. (In that respect, it’s like reviewing — tackling works sent to you can be eye-opening, especially when you find enjoyment in something you never would have chosen on your own.) The mundane items, such as trying to figure out a technologically advanced toilet when you can’t read the markings, or how people survive with such small apartments, ground the work. Although he covers the expected — origami, temples — he also introduces the reader to less-well-known features of Tokyo, such as the rustic Mount Takao or a contemporary art museum.

There’s nothing more immediate in terms of immersion in an experience than comics. Journalism of this sort is well-suited to the medium, which allows for an efficient presentation of visual material. Of particular interest is the assignment on gender roles, printed on a foldout to capture the map-style presentation of fluidity, cross-dressing, and boundary-crossing. The explanation of the “spacial strategy of scattering one’s apartment all over town”, showing communal bathing, dining, and visiting love hotels, will also stick with me. The thick lines and concentration on shapes instead of detail are due to the comics’ methods of creation: drawn in a journal, then posted online.

The book’s biggest flaw is that the entries are too short! Each topic gets four pages, when some could have supported many more. The visit to the Studio Ghibli Museum, for example, I found hard to follow because he’s trying to pack so much into his short space. The text overcomes the images, crowded together, and I know he had much more to say about it.

Dirk not only shows what he did but his thoughts about it as well. His “para para” club experience, where everyone does the same hand movements on the dance floor, simultaneously expresses the zombie-like creepiness of de-individualization and the welcoming comfort of being part of a larger group. The awareness of mortality that comes with his last assignment, eating fugu (poisonous blowfish) sushi, is beautifully symbolized by flashbacks to his previous entries.

To conclude the book, Dirk dared ten other international cartoonists to have a conversation with a Japanese person in the city where they live. The participants best-known to American audiences are James Kochalka (American Elf), who directly tackles the off-putting racial nature of this request, and Ryan North (Dinosaur Comics), whose usage of clip art makes him a poor choice for the section. Some almost completely ignore the request, while others turn out something predictable about different cultures. It’s the weakest section of the book. Best of the bunch is the French Monsieur Le Chien, who satirizes stereotypes, the internet, commercial culture, sexism, and multi-culturalism, all with terrific art.

The publisher has posted sample pages. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Optical Allusions
Buy this book

Developed in part with a National Science Foundation grant, it’s the story of how Wrinkles the Wonder Brain searches for a lost eye and learns all about the science of vision and eyeballs. Each chapter contains a comic followed by a text section that explains the biological concepts in more depth. It could actually be used as a textbook (if you had a really cool science teacher). Each comic also ends with a cliffhanger, to draw the reader onward in the hopes of seeing Wrinkles complete his quest.

I know this sounds a little dry, but you’re forgetting two things: 1) a walking, talking brain! As the character states early on,

That’s right, I am, in fact, a brain without a person. Strange? Not as strange as all the people walking around without brains.

and 2) Hosler’s sense of humor. Not only is he funny, he’s knowledgeable. Wrinkles reports to the Graeae, the three old women of Greek mythology who share one eye among them. That’s not explained, it’s just there. If you know the reference, cool! If not, they’re funny women with a very odd physical quirk in keeping with the book.

The first main chapter reintroduces Charles Darwin, explaining how eyes evolved. He looks the same as he does in Sandwalk, only he’s a bit more predatory, eating little brain-creatures to demonstrate natural selection. Darwin’s not the only Hosler character to reappear — Cow-Boy (a boy in a cow costume, who starred in a Comic Buyer’s Guide strip a long time ago) shows up in a futuristic superhero chapter that explains the eye’s structure. There are also pirates and stalk-eyed flies, Clio the muse of history, and a blind Cyclops to explain, among lots of other things, why brains are wrinkled, eyeless cave fish, and the uses of light.

View:

• The publisher’s website
• Preview pages
• Interview with Jay Hosler

Salt Water Taffy 2
A Climb up Mt. Barnabas
Buy this book

Jack and Benny are hiking with their parents in Maine, but as in the first book, things are not exactly normal. Oh, oblivious Dad telling pointless stories about his childhood is something most people can relate to, but the grumpy talking bird, not so much. All the wildlife talks in this series, by the way, many with personalities suited to their species.

Mt. Barnabas is a local legend, a peak too steep and dangerous to climb, with various spooky tales told about those who tried. Jealous of his kids’ interest in local salty tale-spinner Angus, Dad tells an unbelievable story about a giant golden eagle and his fishing hat, which starts off the whole excursion.

In their quest to reach the top of the mountain, the boys experience excitement, danger from a hungry wolf, the need to solve problems to determine the next path, teamwork, and friendship from helpful lobsters.

For me, it’s more fun to read summer adventures during the warmer months; looking at this story now, I feel more removed from the tale than I’d like. But I’m anticipating enjoying rereading both of the books in the series next summer and living vicariously through them. What a great choice for reading on a family vacation trip or during a camp stay!

A preview is available at the publisher’s website, and here’s a review by Greg McElhatton. (A complimentary online copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Token
Buy this book

Alisa Kwitney writes a story about a fifteen-year-old Jewish girl in Miami in 1987. Shira’s best friends are her grandmother and her buddy, a former movie star. They feed her nostalgic dreams of glamour, which don’t help when her father gets seriously involved with his secretary. She feels like she’s losing his love, with no one’s support to replace it.

Some of the elements are standard — mean blonde classmates, a feeling of no one understanding her until she meets an unusual boy — but the idea of shoplifting as a vehicle for self-discovery is unusual, and events don’t work out in the standard, expected ways. More, Joelle Jones’ impressive art elevates the work with her expressive figures. Regardless of whether they’re beautiful, Jones’ characters are attractive in their uniqueness. (Her previous book, 12 Reasons Why I Love Her, was one of my Best of 2006.)

Although Minerva’s stories of the glory days have influenced Shira, especially how she thinks about the signals of love, the point of the book is that life isn’t a movie. The boy may just be a temporary enjoyment instead of a life-changing true love. Culture clash provides the allure of the different, but sometimes it can’t be overcome. Shira’s learning to make her own choices and deal with the consequences. Her father wants to pay attention to his life without letting her do the same. Working out a resolution and dealing with the heartbreak to get there makes everyone stronger.

The usual Minx title was a coming-of-age story in which a teenage girl discovers love and makes the first steps towards her own identity. While Token fits that mold, it provides a more mature, subtle take on things. It takes the line out on a high point.

Don MacPherson’s review includes some sample panels.

Juniper is a scholarship student joining Ellsmere Academy, a private girls’ school she’s attending for its excellent academic record. Being away from her home and family is a challenge for her, but her most immediate battle is with Emily, queen bee.

Jun didn’t expect to make friends, which is good, since her refusal to kowtow and take up her designated position as needy poor girl puts her on the outs. She even accidentally insults her gentle roommate Cassie on the first day. Cassie, unfortunately, is used to it, being low girl in the ranks until now.

The War at Ellsmere
Buy this book

It’s an involving picture of how some situations seem inevitable in their development. Jun expects trouble, so she puts up a tough shield that aggravates her new classmates. The mean girls take the bait, and Jun rubs their faces in it, giving back more than she got, because she couldn’t resist the opening. Jun’s not perfect, but she’s also not deserving of how the grudge war escalates. (You can see preview pages of that first meeting at the publisher’s website.)

Messing with a smart girl is a bad idea, on both sides, and some of their rivalry is pure academic jealousy. Both are used to being top of their class, and obviously, that can’t still be true for both of them. Emily’s concerned about Jun giving the other girls “ideas” about changing around the established hierarchy, the one that benefits her. Plus, Emily is incredibly skilled at finding just the right location to drive her emotional knives. Some of the tactics are shocking for teens to contemplate, let alone execute.

Hicks’ blocky, big-headed art reminds me of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s Scott Pilgrim; this book would be a good choice for a fan of that series looking for something to read next. The style foregrounds the characters’ emotions, making their expressions central. I particularly liked the scene where Cassie is shown a different way and realizes that Jun and she might really be true friends. Cassie frowns off into the distance in a silent panel during their conversation, coming back with “I just noticed… I think Emily’s kind of evil.”

Hicks also fleshes out her settings and environments. The school has a solid presence that supports the class warfare element subtly, with the pressure of centuries of existence surrounding the young women. The emotional core of the story, Jun and Cassie’s growing friendship and the way it reveals Cassie’s hidden depths, drew me in as it developed. I particularly admired the way Hicks made Juniper well-rounded. I was rooting for her, of course, as the underdog, but she’s not perfect. She’s got her pride and her own weaknesses. (There’s also an argument to be made that the book is really Cassie’s story, not Jun’s.)

There is a fantasy element that appears near the end that I found completely unnecessary. Until then, it was a plausible story of teen girls growing up and learning which goals are acceptable and achievable. I wish Hicks had had enough confidence in her storytelling to leave out the mystical fix. (Yes, it was foreshadowed earlier on, but the historical tale could as easily just have been more atmosphere for the ancient school.) But even with that, I hope that there’s a sequel. I don’t want this to be the only time I see these characters.

At her livejournal, Hicks shares her comic bio. See more of her work at her website. From now until December 8, you can enter a school memories contest; the winners receive an original sketch or a signed copy of the book. There are already some entries.

If you’d like to read other girls-in-private-school comics, try The Dreaming or Kat & Mouse. (A complimentary preview copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Cleburne: A Graphic Novel
Buy this book

The other commanders were shocked by the idea of any kind of emancipation, and they branded him a traitor for even considering the idea. Regardless of how valiantly he fought or how well he led his men, once his proposal was known, he was sidelined. The others were weighed down by history, by the idea that they were fighting for the way things always had been, so they couldn’t see that Cleburne wanted to preserve his home because he valued it so highly. He became another outsider, and the army’s choice to value loyalty over intelligence was one of the many factors that doomed their efforts.

This biography covers more than just that particular skirmish, though, weaving in a doomed romance and numerous other battles that took place during the last year of the subject’s life. Artist Justin Murphy (also a playwright) is ably inked by former Marvel artist Al Milgrom, giving the story a professional presentation and a straightforward look suited to a work of history. Murphy seems fascinated by the paradox of Cleburne’s plan, that he was fighting to save his society’s traditions but willing to propose (and put his career on the line) for a plan of action that overturned them.

The themes of the book — the condemnation of putting loyalty first, the idiocy of following honor above all to one’s knowing death, the problems with leaders chosen for the wrong reasons — are timely today. It’s a sad reminder that skill and talent don’t always win out. Readers will also see disturbing confirmation of the wasteful destruction of war.

Find out more at the publisher’s website. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

Promethea Book 1
Buy this book

It’s the story of Sophie, a college student in the near future. She’s been studying the various mythical appearances of Promethea, a warrior woman who’s been the subject of epic poems and pulp illustrations and comic books. When an evil spirit attacks, Sophie uses the power of story and imagination to become the latest version of Promethea, guided by previous incarnations. In other words, the stories we immerse ourselves in affect who we are, and we can become whatever we imagine ourselves to be.

The city is a paean to science, with floating taxis and neon screens and flying police saucers and and immediate media narration and its own team of protective “science heroes”, the Five Swell Guys in suits. In addition to a relatively straightforward “use magic to fight the bad demons” plot, there are tons of throwaway ideas and background information here that are wonderful creations in their own right. Take, for example, Weeping Gorilla, a crying ape who thinks one sad cliched catchphrase at a time. At first, he seems like a throwaway running gag, but later, he becomes more as others invest emotional power in him. The same goes for the foul-mouthed version of Red Riding Hood who pops up as a guide.

Promethea Book 2
Buy this book

Then there’s the Immateria. (Aren’t these names perfectly chosen? Impressive-sounding and evocative.) That’s the land of fiction and myth where the previous heroines still live. Various versions of Promethea were invented as they were needed by their authors, whether a failed poet in the 1700s falling in love with a dream version of his maid or a female illustrator of pulp magazines in the 1920s fed up with the lewd sexism of her male editors or an artist who imagined himself being the ideal woman. I particularly like the little-girl version who annoys the others; she speaks like the Little Nemo character from the classic early strip.

The gorgeous art by J.H. Williams III and Mick Gray perfectly stands up to the demands of the text, bursting with images and fully packed, like the story itself. Creative vistas bring form to Moore’s ideas and principles. In addition to showing all the details and characters and events, there are elaborate page designs that work in mystical elements, adding to the feel of a book that reveals more to you the more you invest in it. And their Promethea is classically exotic, full of power and magic.

Promethea Book 3
Buy this book

This first volume establishes the premise and shows Sophie the meaning of compassion, insightful reason, and righteous violence. Book two continues Sophie’s trip through the character’s history and the land of imagination. William Woolcott, a gay writer/artist who was the host of Promethea during her most playful time, as a children’s comic, teaches Sophie about the wonders of physicality in a sequence illustrated with treated photographs.

Like the end of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer TV series, Moore sets up traditional superhero structures — oh, no, a band of demons are attacking a hospital! how will Sophie transform into Promethea to save the day? — and then undercuts the reader’s expectations. Instead of a solo hero evoked through some grandiose gesture, Sophie uses poetry to open the door and then brings through multiple versions of female power. Or she ends a decades-long vendetta through amusing the next generation instead of battling them. The ability to improvise outside of existing patterns is Sophie’s strength.

Promethea Book 4
Buy this book

Book two continues the physical theme with Sophie looking for more magical instruction, which she winds up obtaining by having sex (as her alter ego) with a troll-like old man fortuneteller. In addition to representing many readers’ fantasies, this sequence marks the transition from story to instruction manual; from this point forward, the book becomes Moore’s lecture about his ideas of how magic works, beginning with a walk through the Tarot as representative of human history. The art, in conjunction, becomes symbolic, with allusions and anagrams, references and experimentation galore.

In books three and four, Sophie as Promethea goes venturing through the higher planes and the planets, representing the Kabbalah Tree of Life, in search of a departed former heroine, who is herself seeking her former love.

Promethea Book 5
Buy this book

As book five opens, it’s three years later, and Sophie’s in hiding from the FBI, who have enlisted Tom Strong to find her. The style returns to more traditional comic book art temporarily, before Promethea’s final transformation brings about the end of the world in a uniquely Moore-ish way. The last issue is barely a comic any more, with line drawings and captions scattered over pastel swirls of color which combine to make two large poster images.

Although superficially resembling Alan Moore’s take on Wonder Woman, by its end, Promethea symbolizes unlimited potential in an eye-opening series celebrating imagination and magic.

Letterer and logo designer Todd Klein has a page with comments on selected covers from the series. Here’s an annotation site.

• The Naked City, a gritty New York crime drama
• High Noon, the classic solo tough guy Western starring Gary Cooper
• The Bishop’s Wife, due to its cast
• The Taking of Pelham One Two Three, another New York-set film from 1974

If this is like other Guest Programmer nights, he’ll be visible in short clips introducing the films and explaining why he picked them. And probably plugging The Spirit.

WARNING! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS!

Karen and her two children, Emily and Navin, are moving into their ancestor’s former home. While cleaning the house, Emily finds her great-grandfather’s study and a necklace with an unusual carved-stone amulet. During their first night, Karen is taken by what can be best called a land octopus. The kids follow after her, desperate to rescue their mother, and discover the basement leads to another world, Alledia. The amulet talks to Emily and tells her that great-grandfather Silas is still alive and where to find him for help. He passes on the ownership of the amulet and its power to Emily, and they continue on with the mother’s rescue. Emily and Navin are able to get her back, but the octopus poison has put her in a coma. They now need to find an antidote to wake her up.

Amulet Book One: The Stonekeeper
Buy this book

Let’s get to the heart of the matter. I have a lot of reservations about this book. For a kid’s book, I found this to be very dark. In fact, I’m not sure I would give this book to anyone under 12 or 13 years old. The book begins with an emotional Louisville Slugger to the face. Emily and both her parents, David and Karen, are driving at night on a small mountain road to pick up her younger brother from a play date. While trying to avoid a broken-down vehicle, their car swerves off the road and down the side of the mountain. The car lands upside down on the edge of a cliff ready to tumble into the ravine at any moment. Emily and her mom are able to get out, but the dashboard has pinned David inside the car. They can’t pull him out or keep the car from finally succumbing to gravity. Both watch in horror as David disappears into the darkness. All this is the first twelve pages of the book.

The next scene that concerns me comes when Emily finally meets her great-grandfather. He’s dying and needs to pass on the power and responsibility of the amulet. There isn’t time for him to give an explanation of Alledia, the amulet, or the consequences of becoming the new owner. He chooses instead to play against Emily’s evident fear of losing her mother and confusion about her current circumstances. He tells her, “It will help you attain the power to shape your world. It will give you everything you desire, and much more.” The amulet takes up the same strategy and tells her, “Without power you cannot attain what you desire. Without the stone, all that surrounds you will turn to dust. Embrace the power … and use it to save your family.” As a life-long fan of Tolkien, major alarm bells sound when a near-omnipotent item tells you that it can give you the power to shape the world to your desires. Plus, I think it’s dirty pool to toy with a kid’s emotions like that. I’m uncomfortable with a twelve-year-old being pressured into such a momentous and life-changing decision. The way both Silas and the amulet are willing to use such shady tactics in the name of expediency makes me wonder about their motives and morality. Navin is the only one that expresses reservations about what’s going on, and he is readily dismissed. Personally, I side with Navin’s instincts of caution.

My own fears were increased when Emily encounters the elf prince. He claims that his father is an evil dictator oppressing the land. However, the prince’s methods and ethics make you question the kind of person he is, much more the kind of ruler he would be. To make matters worst, the amulet tells Emily, “Destroy him, Emily. Make him pay…. He took your mother from you. MAKE HIM PAY!!!” No one, or thing, should be advocating that a twelve-year-old murder someone, especially not out of revenge. In fact, at this point I’m being to question the basic morality of Alledia. These are the good guys?

The amulet might be right, that the elf prince will prove to be a tremendous problem and maybe even a fearsome enemy, but given that Emily knows nothing about what is going on, to ask her to kill someone purely from spite is absolutely unacceptable. And just to be clear, the elf prince may have kidnapped Emily’s mother, but he didn’t kill her. (In fact, I don’t think it’s clear that the elf prince was the actual kidnapper and not simply someone taking advantage of a situation he discovered.) Again, I’m really worried about how quickly the amulet is willing to manipulate Emily’s emotions to achieve its own ends. It’s looking like Navin may be the sagest person in the book.

Emily, Navin

Now, let’s talk about what I liked. For all its flaws, this is a well-written book. It’s quick-paced and keeps your interest from the first page until the last. You don’t have to worry about young readers getting bored in the middle and not finishing the book. The problem will be having to tell them book two isn’t available yet. This is a great book to introduce junior high students to graphic novels, fantasy literature, or just reading in general.

Kibuishi has created a wonderful cast of characters. Karen comes across as a vulnerable single mother trying to overcome the tragedy of her husband’s death while providing a good life for her young kids. Her love and concern for both kids is readily apparent. Emily is a great hero, for both girls and boys. Her life’s been turned upside down and she’s trying her best to be head of the family in the absence of both parents. She’s smart, confident, has natural leadership ability, and isn’t scared to stand up to the amulet. I’m not always happy with her decisions, but I don’t know if I could do better in her place.

Navin is quickly becoming my favorite character, simply because he wants to take a couple of minutes to think about what’s going on. He refuses to be left behind or to sit quietly in the back seat. He wants to help and has some real skills to contribute. Silas’s creations, now Emily’s assistants/mentors, are a great collection of secondary characters. How can you not love a trio of consisting of an unpretentious pink stuffed bunny, a robot with the personality of a crotchety old man, and a strong silent blue robot? All the cast are people you would enjoy spending time with and getting to know better.

Miskit, Cogsley, Bottle

The art is phenomenal. The character designs are simple but highly effective. Kibuishi is able to communicate the whole range of human emotions on the characters’ faces. He also does a great job with the look and design of Alledia. The creatures are unique but feel like they would all be part of the same planet. He takes a familiar creature and gives it a bizarre twist, like the land octopus, to make the world strange but still relateable.

The book looks like a big-budget hand-animated film. The drawings are dynamic and come to life. Each panel is like the key cel of an animated film. As my eye moved from panel to panel, I found myself naturally filling in the characters’ movements, so it felt like I was watching a cartoon instead of reading a book. It’s the color that makes this all possible. This is one of the best colored books I’ve ever seen. The use of light makes everything pop off the page. Kibuishi thanks a lot of people, especially his wife Amy, for helping him complete the book. The book’s stellar quality is a testament to the amazing craftsmanship and sheer number of hours put into its production.

I’m taking a wait-and-see attitude with this book and series. I’m hoping that book two will alleviate the most serious of my concerns. Hopefully, as we get to know more about the world of Alledia, Silas’ and the amulet’s actions will make more sense and become less sinister. Kibuishi seems to be crafting children’s fiction in the same vein as Harry Potter. Alledia is a morally complex world where not everything fits a nice black-and-white scheme. The good guys are trying their best but don’t always make the right decisions. I don’t mind blurry ethical edges and children’s fiction that refuses to give nice, neat, pat answers. But I do want there to be a real distinction between the bad guys and the good guys and how they operate. I’ll give Kibuishi the benefit of the doubt and withhold any final judgment.

A preview of the first sixteen pages of the book and other information is available at Scholastic’s website. There are updates on the progress of Amulet book two at the author’s website. Matthew Brady has also reviewed the book.

The Lindbergh Child
Buy this book

The first page sets the stage with an old-fashioned newspaper-style splash page, labeling the baby’s kidnapping and murder “the sensational case that transfixed the nation”. From the beginning, Geary isn’t so much interested in solving the mystery as exploring its causes and results. The next pages establish his scholarly approach: there’s a bibliography of source books, a cutaway of the mansion setting showing room layout, and several maps of the area. These devices establish from the beginning a detached tone, with something of the flavor of an Agatha Christie murder (popular during the era, with the child disappearing in 1932). It gives the story a reportorial quality that’s refreshing in today’s world of tabloid television and CSI murderporn.

Geary’s straightforward art is well-suited to his blunt presentation of facts and historical data, while his unique style, an immediately recognizable thick pen-and-ink line, provides warmth and solidity. The Lindberghs, young marrieds, were thrust into the spotlight as early celebrities. They’ve built a huge new home as a place to escape scrutiny, yet the disappearance of their only baby allows the public and the media to tramp all over it. After a year and a half, a suspect is finally identified, and when he’s put on trial (although already presumed guilty), the proceedings were recorded on newsreels and mobbed with journalists.

It’s surprising how the case was investigated. Bootleggers and criminals, the rogue heroes of the Depression era, officially assist with rescue attempts. A circumstantial case is assembled in lieu of anything better. An investigator himself kidnaps a suspect in an attempt to beat him into a confession. Overall, it’s a picture of thrashing about, trying to do something when doing nothing is unthinkable. And yet, we still don’t know whether the answer given is correct, even partially.

In these stories of gruesome deaths, Geary chooses to tell those that don’t have accepted solutions or neat conclusions. The reader is denied the comfort of seeing justice done, thus left to face their prurient curiosity about how murder affects others, even those removed in time and space. It’s a disturbing yet worthwhile read, raising important questions about human nature.

Preview pages are available from the publisher. Geary has been interviewed online. You may also want to check out Geary’s adaptation of Great Expectations or Finder: The Rescuers, a science-fictionalized takeoff from the starting point of a baby’s kidnapping.

CryptoZooey

CryptoZooey

by Steve Troop, $5 US, 24 color pages, Self-Published

Zooey’s an orphan. Her parents, monster hunters, disappeared under mysterious circumstances. When her grandmother dies, a bearded stranger shows up and takes her away to a scary house… where she discovers that all the monsters really exist. She, the Jersey Devil, Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, and a jackalope head off to find her parents.

Most all-ages comics claim “fun and entertaining” in their promotion, but this one really succeeds. As the Jersey Devil (whom I hear as David Hyde-Pierce) lectures on the importance of secrecy, Zooey is outside playing waterslide down Nessie’s neck. Her character design is a large part of what makes the story work — she’s all head, mouth, and hands, which keeps her emotions visible and makes her funny. She’s all instant action; whatever thought hits her head, she follows through without pause for reflection. (That’s the Jersey Devil’s role, to be the eye-rolling parental type.)

Just when things are getting good, this book ends, leaving the reader eager for another issue. That’s the source of my only complaint — I would rather have seen a much longer story at an $8-10 price. I wanted much more.

Kid Beowulf and the Blood-Bound Oath

Kid Beowulf and
the Blood-Bound Oath
Buy this book

by Alexis E. Fajardo, $15.95 US, 208 black-and-white pages, Bowler Hat Comics

The Prologue summarizes the epic poem in short verse, a helpful reminder to those of us who know we’ve read it but don’t remember it. The book’s divided into three sections, past, present, and future. The first shows how bullying Prince Hrothgar goes adventuring in preparation for a hoped-for marriage to Yrs.

The second follows Hrothgar’s half-dragon child Gertrude, who yearns to know more about her father and his human village. Arrogant Hrothgar is consumed with the desire to build the world’s greatest celebration hall, a grandiose fantasy inappropriate for his times and people.

It’s the third part where we finally meet Beowulf and Grendel, reimagined as 12-year-old twins (only one’s human and the other’s green with horns). By that point, we know little about their characters, but plenty about their family and heritage.

I don’t normally read fantasy because there are frequently too many characters running about fighting over tribal differences and squabbling over whose father’s legacy land belonged to whom. I felt a little of that in the beginning, but the humor and interactions drew me through. I also liked the talking sword, Nagling, for comedic relief.

This doesn’t really have much to do with the poem; instead, it’s teen fantasy adventure with plenty of soap opera. Future volumes are planned in which Beowulf and Grendel will meet the heroes of other epic poems.

The Undersea Adventures of Capt’n Eli

The Undersea Adventures of
Capt’n Eli Volume 1
Buy this book

by Jay Piscopo, $9.99 US, 104 color pages, Nemo Publishing

It’s an underwater Jonny Quest with souped-up 3-D computer backgrounds. The lead characters, though, are drawn in a classic Silver Age style. I liked their look, although the mixture sometimes made me queasy, and the cast can appear stiff against the high-tech backgrounds. The artificiality is always prominently on display.

The first book starts with the origin of Capt’n Eli (the kid on the cover). He was found in a futuristic vessel by an old lighthouse keeper (shades of Aquaman). He hangs out with a white dog and a 200-year-old parrot, and he’s an inventor who builds his own submarine.

Eli, looking for more information about where he came from, hooks up with a group called the Seasearchers, led by Professor Wow and made up of pilots and inventors. The author cites as his influences 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Flash Gordon, and Buck Rogers, but the character himself looks to me most like Marine Boy (shown below), hero of a forgotten 60s anime translation.

There’s an awful lot of telling about other stories that sound more interesting than the one we’re reading. (Lots of talking head pictures, too.) The most exciting bits of his background are elided or skipped over. If a kid brings plenty of imagination of their own, they can fill in the gaps … and it’ll probably be more exciting than what’s here. However, I suspect that the most dedicated audience for this series will be parents with fond memories who want something safe to share with their kids. I found the book slow going.

A second volume is available now with the third due in January.

Yam

Yam
Buy this book

by Corey Barba, $10 US, 88 black-and-white pages (with color section), Top Shelf Productions

Yam, a kid in a body-covering suit, is the subject of these surreal, wordless stories. (Some collected here previously appeared in Nickelodeon magazine.) There are some weird happenings shown — for example, when collecting bugs to put in jars, Yam and a little friend meet a really huge insect who wants to collect them — but the cartooning is highly impressive, and even when doing strange or vengeful things, the characters are adorable. I especially liked the television on legs that follows Yam around like a dog.

Other stories have cupcakes as pets or people creating tiny clones of themselves or growing plant friends … they can be described as dream-like, but it’s how dreams really work, with bizarre leaps and imagery that leaves you unsettled or scratching your head.

Yam’s happy and charming to watch, though, even when refusing to learn anything from his experience or transforming in odd ways. The longest story, about his romance with a saleslady in a nearby town, is heart-warming and the most accomplished in the book. It reminded me a bit of the way Beanish wooed his love in Larry Marder’s Beanworld stories.

Owly: Tiny Tales
Buy this book

Four of the tales — Splashin’ Around, Breakin’ the Ice, Helping Hands, and In a Fix! — were previously published as giveaway comics for Free Comic Book Day. Others appeared in convention programs or anthology collections or minicomics. Because of the various sources, it’s likely that even the most dedicated fan of the character won’t have read all of them before. And for those new to the woodland, they’re lucky in having even more wonderful comics to explore.

Owly lives a very natural life. His days are filled with gardening, playing with friends, and solving simple problems, like getting his watering can fixed or feeding migrating birds or building a picnic table. The tales have worthwhile reminders about the virtues of hard work, friendship, good sportsmanship, sharing, and sacrifice. The pacing is comfortable and relaxing, symbolic of a balanced life.

The premises seem simple, but they’re well-chosen to be understandable and relatable by a variety of people, including youngsters. Because the stories are wordless — Owly and company communicate through symbols and pictographs, like a drawing of a horseshoe for wishing someone good luck — even pre-readers can enjoy the storytelling. I’m always impressed by how real and alive Owly and his friends seem, given how adorable they are and how economically they’re cartooned. Just a few lines, and yet they’re the cutest little birds and bugs and forest dwellers.

I also appreciate how the creatures maintain their essential animal qualities. For example, the raccoon is the shopkeeper because they have little hands. Don’t think too much how the puffball Owly, whose wings are tiny in relation to the size of his head, manages to do everything he does, like feed and house himself. If Wormy can work a pencil by curling himself around it, then I will believe that Owly somehow uses his feathers like thumbs to pound a hammer or put on a sweater.

The history section in the back, showing how Owly’s design developed, was a wonderful revelation. From a doodle to a beloved children’s story character, that’s quite a path.

Mo and Jo Fighting Together Forever

Mo and Jo Fighting
Together Forever
Buy this book

written by Jay Lynch; art by Dean Haspiel

Hilarious! Mona and Joey are squabbling siblings. Through an elegantly quick turn of events, they wind up with a super-suit that they split in half, because they sure can’t share. He gets magnetic boots; she gets stretchy arms. (An homage to Plastic Man, I’m sure, since Lynch acknowledges his inspiration in his author’s note.)

All this happens so fast that it reminds me of a classic Silver Age comic, eager to get the reader through the setup so more action happens sooner. I like the approach, especially since pages are limited and the origin isn’t really important anyway. Of course, the message is that they can accomplish more as a team.

Haspiel’s art is perfectly suited to this story — it’s solid and easy to read but energetic and capable of capturing the superheroics as well. The two sound like kids, and they even look alike! This is a great comic for kids, especially those who dream of being superheroes (and who doesn’t?). I hope there will be more with Mo and Jo.

Jack and the Box

Jack and the Box
Buy this book

by Art Spiegelman

The rabbit boy Jack gets a box full of imagination. At first, his jack-in-the-box scares him, but soon he’s conversing with it — and a contradictory toy it is, too.

I took the most from seeing the rabbit’s frustration, fear, and enjoyment in various combinations. (There are different encounters, almost like a set of strips instead of just one story.) It shouldn’t surprise anyone that a master of Spiegelman’s experience can show a variety of expressions even with simple line characters. But there’s wordplay, as well, which would make reading this out loud fun.

It all spirals out crazily before returning normality. A lovely bedtime read.

Stinky

Stinky
Buy this book

by Eleanor Davis

Stinky is a monster who lives in a swamp, only eats pickled foods, and lives up to his name. He doesn’t like kids, because they take baths, and his pet frog is named Wartbelly — how appropriate. Then a new kid builds a tree house near the swamp. Stinky wants to scare him off, but the kid likes dirt and frogs, and Stinky isn’t as big a monster as he seems.

The images are round and welcoming. It’s clear Stinky is a monster, with smell lines and flies radiating from him (where else could you do this but comics?), but he’s still cute. You can see the message coming a mile away, but it’s comforting when it arrives.

I found this set of releases more entertaining than the first one, which bodes well for the line’s future. I’m excited to see what comes out from them next year. Find out more at the publisher’s website.

It takes more to make a great autobiographical graphic novel than a good story. Miriam Libicki has a pitch that many would want to read about — she’s an American Jew who enlisted in the Israeli Army — but her art is painfully unready for professional publication, and she’s not able to structure various incidents in a way that adds up to anything more than “and then this happened”.

Jobnik!
Buy this book

“Jobnik” is Army slang for a soldier who works a desk job instead of seeing combat. Miriam is a pudgy American girl whose stories are mostly about which men she’s interested in or sleeping with. Her Hebrew is lacking, which limits her activities.

Libicki’s art resembles that of a child, with interchangeable round-faced figures and a lack of perspective. Her people look like poorly formed lumps of dough. The heavy shading with visible pencil lines in the early pages makes it difficult to tell the characters from the background.

Even more problematic is the lack of context and character background. I wanted to know more about the politics, in some cases, but the author seems to assume that I’m already familiar with them. I also wished Miriam had more self-awareness, that she explained more of her motivations.

Although the environment has a lot of potential for gripping stories, too often, we see her simply listening to the news or engaging in other pedestrian activities. The author doesn’t seem to know which stories to select to make her life interesting to the reader. The amateur art just makes the flaws more obvious.

Some of the structural issues may be a result of the way it was created. This book wasn’t originally a graphic novel, but individual series installments. Under these covers are issues 1-6 of a self-published comic. Jobnik! can be ordered through comic shops with code OCT08 4337 for arrival in December. A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.

American Widow
Buy this book

Her experience is exceptional, not one many of us can even imagine, which makes her telling involving. But other emotions will be raised in the reader as well: anger, at the organizations that keep her from the promised benefits that will allow her to raise their child; despair, at the loss of love; fear, that such an unpredictable event could happen to us; even more anger, at the media and charitable groups who want to exploit a widow and new baby to show how much they care.

The events are told in a straightforward, easy-to-read style with recognizable figures and locations. The pages are black and white with aqua highlights, which feels like reporting given depth by the touches of color. It’s hard to believe that this is illustrator Sungyoon Choi’s first book, as well as Torres’. It reminds me of Night Fisher or the work of Adrian Tomaine, only with more emotion, less polish.

The illustrated format allows Torres to show, not tell, which makes it all more approachable. The short chapters each cover one topic — such as receiving the news or arranging the funeral or visiting the site — and their brevity allows for reading breaks when the material becomes too affecting, as well as for changing moods depending on circumstances.

After immediately setting the stage for that particular day of tragedy, the book flashes back to the Torres’ first meeting, showing how they met, fell in love, and married. Romances are familiar to everyone and yet each is unique. Theirs started with a dance, a walk, a kiss… but things were complicated by his immigration status. Later chapters range from how she coped with aggravating details to exploring her emotions of loneliness or getting caught in endless what-ifs.

More than just the story of one lost love, American Widow leaves the reader understanding just how aggravatingly mundane survival is. Torres can’t be left alone to cope with her loss; instead, she’s trapped by the many details she has to decide on, and no one really wants to help her. Entrenched bureaucracy, whether the local government or the Red Cross or a large employer, doesn’t really care about any individual, regardless of public promises. And those who mean well can cause a lot of pain because they don’t really understand what they think they do. Some (like cartoonist Ted Rall) purposefully attack a non-existent greed out of their own selfishness. Even those who went through a similar loss have different circumstances or reactions, leaving her feeling even more alone.

Ultimately, it’s a frustrating book. It’s a thought-provoking story of survival, with unusual perspectives on a powerful event, but the meaning is still so raw, both for Torres and the rest of us. There’s little closure, and many unanswered questions left, but I appreciate Torres and Choi for raising them. (A complimentary copy for this review was provided by the publisher.)

USA Today talked to the writer while the NY Times also reviewed the book.