I really liked the first issue of this new color series, and I was curious to see where Ted Naifeh would go in Courtney Crumrin #2. He took us in a direction I didn’t expect, by flashing back to many of the same events of issue #1, but this time showing them from the perspective of Holly, the new girl. (Note, even, that the covers are something of a reversal to each other in positions and facings.)

You might fear this would seem repetitive, but it’s not. Instead, it deepens both the new personality and the world she and Courtney inhabit. Instead of simply being a new antagonist for the title character, Holly now has her own motivations and desires. Some of her actions, cast as villainy in the first issue, are more understandable and even relatable.

It also supports what I’ve seen as the theme of this series, the idea that perception matters. What seems wrong or bad might not be when you understand more about the choices behind the decisions or when you take the perspective of someone unlike you. It’s an argument for tolerance, basically. Even monsters can be understandable, and people on opposite “sides” may have a lot in common.

Specifically, we see just how much Holly is like Courtney — only a younger Courtney. Holly needs to learn some of the same lessons, and Courtney simply saying, “Don’t do that” isn’t enough teaching. We also get to meet more of the kids Courtney took revenge on in the past. We may have been rooting for what she did, especially if we read previous stories, but we weren’t previously encouraged to think about what their lives would be like now and whether the punishment was commensurate. It’s a fascinating new take on a long-running setup that provides food for thought for new and old readers alike.

Skeleton Key was a fascinating series for watching how quickly and radically Watson developed his artistic style over its run. The illustrations went from scratchy and line-filled to simplified confidence over the six years it came out (and five collections released). That paralleled the development of the lead character, as Tamsin grew from bored teen to young woman making life choices out on her own. The original concept — Tamsin discovered a magic key that allowed her to journey to other dimensions — was terrific, well-chosen to allow the artist’s imagination free rein while suiting the need of a teenager to crave new experiences and try on different identities.

Although it began as a fantasy adventure, with the introduction of Tamsin’s new friend Kitsune, a fox spirit found during one of the journeys, the series also developed a slice-of-life/girls growing up together undercurrent. In a way, this special returns to the “let’s see where we go today” feel of the earliest stories while maintaining the depth of the two women’s friendship. It also marks the latest transformation of Watson’s style, with the reductionist cartooning and gorgeous coloring similar to his work in Glister. He uses an almost monochrome palette that sets an emotional mood while varying the tones for readability. (And it’s the first time we’ve seen these two in color, if you don’t count covers.)

In the first story, “Dead Can’t Dance”, Tamsin and Kitsune meet a demented band that are raising zombies for their new music video. They’re silly wannabe artists, these “New Necromantics”, playing with forces beyond their control, but thankfully, Tamsin’s able to rescue them from the cursed results of their thoughtlessness.

“Room Service” sends the pair to a fancy haunted hotel, where they’re mistaken for exorcists. I loved the incorporation of the standard lodging expectations, including the minibar, in this tale, and the unexpectedly happy ending, as everyone becomes useful.

“Lost Property” is a bit deeper, as the two girls, seeking to get home, find themselves at risk of becoming an exhibit in the Museum of the Lost. This story best shows how imaginative Watson’s ideas can be, as the various inhabitants raised a giggle or an eyebrow. I particularly liked the dodos walking through (also seen on the back cover), and the way the guards were empty museum cases, hopping around on their pedestals. The issue also contains a short sketchbook section with some annotated character designs and proposed cover layouts.

I’d forgotten how much I missed Kitsune’s never-ending hunger and Tamsin’s proper snarkiness. This was a wonderful reminder of the appeal of the characters and the strength of Andi Watson’s work. I hope this isn’t all we see of Skeleton Key in future. There’s so much more they could do and I want to read. If you’d like to see a sample, the publisher has posted a preview.

I haven’t read any Courtney Crumrin for three years, so checking out this new series launch (in color!) was a welcome reminder of how much I enjoy the adventures of the … what do we call her? Monster fighter? Young witch? Sorcerer in training? Anyway, her world is exciting to explore, as fueled by the demented imagination of Ted Naifeh.

I was impressed by how many twists he packs into this issue. I loved the design of new character Holly, a neighbor who moves in next to Courtney and her uncle. At first, I thought, “oh, good, Courtney needs a friend as weird as she is.” But it’s not that simple… which is the appeal of the stories Naifeh tells. Nothing is as it seems, and there’s nothing either wholly good or evil.

The third-person narration shows us a Holly I could relate to, one who’s very self-aware about how difficult it is to be the new kid. She looks like your typical geek girl, with dark pigtails and glasses, which may have contributed to why I was so sympathetic to her, but she reveals herself to be something other than a girl like me. That I was finding so much of myself and my friends in a fantasy story is another compliment to Naifeh. Many people have tried to do “magic in the real world”, but he is a master at it, with his very human characterizations.

One of the things Holly said made me think it would be a good idea to reread the Crumrin stories, to see if what she’s referencing comes from earlier tales or is just a hint as to revelations to come. Yet I didn’t feel left out; instead, I wanted more. That’s a sign of a good launch. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

An alien just wants a peaceful life until he can be rescued from Earth and return home. The only time he uses his powers is to hide his appearance from his neighbors. However, when the town doctor gets murdered, he’s the only medical man left in the area, so he’s enlisted to take care of the inhabitants until they can find out who did the killing.

This zero issue, first of four planned, reprints three stories that ran last year in Dark Horse Presents. It’s a great introduction to the characters and setting, which has a strong presence as well. That was one of the many elements that attracted me to the series. Small-town folk have been used in fiction for a long time and in a lot of different ways. So far, this appears to be balancing them well, emphasizing the closed society (made more obvious by how alien our hero is) as well as the good-people-helping-each-other tendencies.

Steve Parkhouse’s art is terrific in making the alien classically creepy (in the pattern of the Greys, although he looked more lavender to me) but also balancing the portrayal against the everyday people. His alien seems to come from the same world they do, in terms of coordinated art style. He’s also great with the scenery.

Peter Hogan, meanwhile, gives us just enough to sympathize with a guy who just wants to be left alone and who’s trying to fit in based on what he’s seen on TV. It’s a neat trick, getting us to put ourselves in the place of the alien, seeing the people as the ones who are hiding something. It helps that we’re shown some potential motives for the secrecy of key citizens, although the murder case itself will play out in future issues. I’m already eager to see more.

Resident Alien #0 is on sale next week. The publisher has posted a preview and provided a digital review copy.

SPOILERS follow. The rabbit samurai’s biggest challenge this issue isn’t the greedy rival merchant who’s escalated a business struggle into sabotage of the traditionalist’s warehouse sauce vats. Instead, it’s the fraidy-cat local lawman who refuses to get involved.

After a slow opening, which recaps the premise if you missed the previous issue, we pick up with Usagi determined to force the police officer to do his job in spite of his laziness and cowardice. This is a very two-dimensional portrayal, with the officer even uninterested in the dying words of a victim caught in the crossfire between the merchants. He believes the conflict will blow over if he waits it out. You would think murder would demonstrate that his strategy isn’t working, but he’s so self-centered that raised stakes won’t even convince him. He’s confident in his status as “the law in this town”, but he is quickly disabused of that protection.

His cowardice is so obvious that the reader roots for him to find out just how wrong he is and get the justice he deserves. When running away doesn’t work, he whimpers and begs for Usagi to protect him. Then he turns bloodthirsty, yelling for Usagi to kill the bad guys, once they’ve threatened him. This is a classic character type, the stuffed shirt authority figure who’s just begging to have his ego punctured.

However, it was awfully convenient that the bad guys created a trap to lure Usagi and the cop and then set upon them. It would have been smarter to have let things be, with the officer refusing to punish any lawbreaking and the visiting stranger suspected as instigating the trouble. If the villains hadn’t brought the fight to the police, there’s no reason to believe he would have ever changed his mind and gotten involved.

Why would they choose to escalate things? Well, so Stan Sakai can draw some sword battles, I guess, and to make it clear just how wrong and evil they are. But given Usagi’s skill, the end result is that they all end up dead, with no need for a trial or a debate over who’s right and wrong. There’s no subtlety in this story, making it resemble an old-fashioned parable about just desserts and getting what’s coming to you.

The dead guard (working for the good guy) leaves a dying statement, just so we know Usagi and the boss are sure of what happened and who needs to be punished. There’s no room for grey areas or uncertainty here. The story is somewhat old-fashioned in its determination to see the bad guys dead — the ultimate justice, if a bit exaggerated for their crime of poking a hole in a soy sauce barrel, but once they kill the guard, we know their lives aren’t going to be very long.

For the same reason, it’s also reassuring. Order is restored to this small town, the traditionalist is now safe to continue his business following the old ways, and Usagi continues his travels to find another encounter. It’s rather like an episode of the old Route 66 TV show, or any of a number of similarly structured series where the wandering hero brings justice before moving on. There’s a comfort in seeing justice provided in such broad, black-and-white strokes.

A preview is available at the publisher’s website. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

As shown by the variant cover by Georges Jeanty, this issue also features a flashback to significant incidents in the life of Nikki Wood, the 1970s slayer (and mother of Robin) who was killed by Spike. Her presence helps explore the nature of romance and relationships once you bring in slayers and vampires and prophesied purposes.

This is the kind of Buffy comic I want. It reveals important additional information about past characters, and it moves the cast’s lives forward in significant ways. We’ve seen the show and the comic try to treat Buffy as an adult before, but she always falls back to seeming like a teen. Perhaps that’s because that’s many people’s favorite version of the character, during those three TV years in high school, but it might also be because it’s hard to write a fantasy adventure character who struggles with real-life complications in a believable way.

This issue is a glimpse of what the show was at its best, using monsters to tackle real-life issues. Spoilers follow for a tough subject that will cause a lot of discussion.

Buffy, after letting loose at the party that opened this series, doesn’t remember everyone she’s had sex with, and when she winds up pregnant, she has to decide whether she’s ready to have a baby. That’s why Nikki’s example is so significant; Robin is the only child of a slayer we’ve seen in the series.

I appreciated the way her uncertainty and number of sex partners wasn’t handled in a judgmental way. This topic, whether to have an abortion, has shown up in popular media before, but usually, the pregnancy turns out to be a scare or an accident occurs, making the actual decision unnecessary. We rarely — none that I can remember — see a sympathetic character actually deciding to go through with it. We need those kinds of examples, especially from someone who’s written by Andrew Chambliss as demonstrating a great amount of self-knowledge of her strengths, weaknesses, what she’s capable of, and most importantly, what she can’t do.

Fundamentally, this issue is about communities, about finding friends and relatives that will support you through difficult situations. That’s the best part of Buffy, and on a fannish level, I was glad to see Spike as the person she turned to when she most needed help with a difficult task.

Johnny Bacardi provides some background on the line and its contributors, while Christopher Allen sums up the pros and cons of the series, and I provide a list of lessons I learned from the first issue. (For example, “I’ve always been surprised that science fiction isn’t more successful in comic form, since it seems the perfect medium for it: idea-driven, cheap to show the most outrageous concept, capable of portraying anything that can be imagined, sharing much of the same fandom.”) Joseph Gualtieri, meanwhile, considers the series “a pale imitation of EC” and Scott Cederlund ponders comic memory and why he never heard of Time Warp before.

Update: (2/22/12) Here’s my contribution in full:

I didn’t read all five of the Time Warp issues we were assigned this week, because even with my fondness for another era of comic storytelling, 300 pages was a bit much all at once, especially without continuing characters. But the one I did read, the first, reminded me of several things:

1. Short stories are harder to do well than longer stories, which might be why the comic anthology is all but dead while the collection-told-in-serialized-chapters rules the comic market.

2. I’ve always been surprised that science fiction isn’t more successful in comic form, since it seems the perfect medium for it: idea-driven, cheap to show the most outrageous concept, capable of portraying anything that can be imagined, sharing much of the same fandom. But if one rules out superheroes (which are only SF in the loosest definition), then it’s difficult to think of any well-known, successful SF comics. (Manga, as usual, is the exception, and many more people should be reading Finder.)

3. I miss the art style of the ’80s, where competence was required at a minimum. Ah, the glory of Dick Giordano inks and relatively realistically drawn and posed figures. These were filler work, but they’re all readable and easy to follow, artistically.

4. Science fiction is where O. Henry-style stories went to multiply. The twist ending — aliens are just like us! judging by appearance is bad! love will show you how bad prejudice is! murderers get what’s coming to them! aliens may be bigger or smaller than us! — is a requirement, it seems, to make the tale meaningful. It’s the EC influence, I’m sure, with everyone remembering those classic morality tales disguised as fiction.

5. Yet science fiction ages badly. All these technological marvels, and no one could envision equality between the sexes, or a world run by people who weren’t white. Maybe because the future is shown as a scary place, full of things that can kill you. That’s the biggest twist ending of all: technology can’t protect you.

6. My gracious, the limited color palette made for some vibrant choices. Purple shirts, orange machinery, bright yellow walls, reds, blues, and of course, lots of green tentacles.

I think the piece I’ll remember most is yet another “Martians want our women” story with Steve Ditko art, because, aside from the cliched premise, his showgirls are really strange-looking. His aliens, in another chapter, are much better.

I owe the guys behind Princeless an apology. It’s a good read, a fresh take and an entertaining story, the kind of wonderfully surprising discovery it’s a joy to find among independent small-press comics.

After previewing the first issue, I reviewed issue #2 and issue #3, and I was critical of the series based on what I had hoped to see, not what it was. I had certain expectations, based on how the title was presented to me, and those weren’t met, but it wasn’t fair of me to be as harsh as I was. A new comic has a huge uphill battle, and I want to be clear that this is a title worth reading.

In this issue, Adrienne and her new friend Bedelia defeat their assailants and get everything in place to set off to rescue Adrienne’s sister Angelica. I love the way the two girls are drawn by M. Goodwin, with strength and gumption and humor. Take, for example, this closeup:

The two demonstrate that a young person can make a difference, can be responsible for their own choices, and can accomplish great things with the right plan, smarts, and determination.

There’s a Princeless collection coming in April, and I encourage you, if you haven’t tried the series yet, to check it out. There will be more stories to follow, continuing the adventures of Princess Adrienne, and I’m looking forward to all of them. Find out more in this interview with the writer Jeremy Whitley.

by Christos Gage and Phil Noto
Dark Horse Comics, $2.99 US

No, that’s not Buffy you’re seeing on the cover — it’s too soon for the “I’m sure it will happen eventually” crossover event — it’s Harmony, the media darling vampire. She’s come to London (where Angel and Faith live in Giles’ old apartment) to get their help with a blackmailer. This issue is doing a riff on classic hardboiled detective style, a choice that, as Angel himself points out on the opening page, is a good one for the character. The story is also a parody of brainless celebrity culture, but one that left me thinking: Maybe people who care only about themselves really are happier, since they aren’t bothered by stuff like empathy or doing the right thing or guilt or regret or ethical debate?

This stand-alone issue provides some comedy relief after the roller-coaster launch storyline, and it was both welcome and funny. If the PR description hadn’t pointed out Phil Noto was the guest artist, I wouldn’t have noticed. His style is well-suited to the cast likenesses, as well as the occasional silly cameo. A great starting point, if you haven’t tried the series yet, with amusing dialogue throughout.

Fraggle Rock Classics

Fraggle Rock Classics

by Stan Kay and Marie Severin
Archaia Entertainment, $9.95 US

To go along with their Fraggle comics and other licensed titles from The Jim Henson Company, Archaia has released this small paperback reprinting the first four issues of the Fraggle Rock comic published in 1985 by Marvel’s Star Comics imprint.

The stories are timeless, and the characters are drawn adorably by the legendary Marie Severin, with a cute softness suitable for puppets. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the first story, even without a connection to the property, because of the lesson it teaches. The gang are having a hard time, while jumping rope, keeping everyone at the same speed, so Gobo (in his voyage to Outer Space, i.e. our world) picks up a metronome. The Fraggles all start operating at the same rapid speed, but soon, they’re overtired and stressed out from having to live so fast. (A message! And one I can truly appreciate!)

That’s only one of the four long and well-cartooned stories here, including an adorable one about a Doozer looking for her place in the world. (She thinks she wants to be a Fraggle, but that doesn’t work out so well.) One of the things I liked best about this series, in contrast to the more recent Archaia Fraggle stories, is that Doc and his dog Sprocket appear (along with Gorgs and Uncle Travelling Matt). That contrasts human behavior with Fraggles and makes the tales more approachable for me. Kids may enjoy the Fraggle-only stories as a glimpse into another world and another way of living, but I prefer the greater sense of interconnection.

Memorial #1

by Chris Roberson and Rich Ellis
IDW Publishing, $3.99 US

I’ve been curious about this title since last July, when it was first mentioned, because I liked the story idea, about an amnesiac who has unknown ties to a fantasy world. Unfortunately, I found the third party narration, telling us what we’re seeing in a faux-literary style, off-putting. I felt as though the words were struggling against the images, which are lovely. The two didn’t gel for me, and I think I would have preferred a more modern narrative style. This gave me the feeling of someone wanting to be writing The Wizard of Oz or some other fantasy story written a couple of centuries ago.

Thankfully, that only lasted halfway through this first issue (of a six-issue miniseries). At that point, the unknown Miss M enters the mysterious “this wasn’t here before” shop full of wonders, and characters start talking to each other instead of being described by caption boxes. I much preferred that style of storytelling.

It’s also unfortunate that having an army led by Pinocchio reminded me of Fables, while the mysterious key sounds like another IDW title, Locke and Key. It’s very difficult to do an original fantasy these days, since everything feels like something else older. I also have the usual caveat when it comes to IDW series — at the $4 price, and given that this is a limited series, it’s probably easier (and more cost-effective) to wait and buy the collection at a discount. I suggest watching for reviews of future issues to decide if it’s your kind of story. I’m not sure myself yet. There’s a lot of potential, but I still need to figure out whether I care enough to follow it through.

Princeless #3

by Jeremy Whitley and M. Goodwin
Action Lab Entertainment, $3.99 US

Readers of my review of the previous issue will be happy to know that the focus is firmly back on Princess Adrienne in this issue. After the excitement of the prior installment of the story, she needs to get some sensible armor that fits, which leads to her meeting the determined Bedelia, a blacksmith’s daughter with a secret of her own.

While viewing possible armor designs, the writer makes a number of jabs at the typical outfits of women warriors. Comic fans will recognize the characters being satirized, and while it’s still a problem that female fighters wear stupid outfits for battle, it’s also a familiar complaint and one that has been made in plenty of other places. Still, I love Bedelia, and it’s reassuring to see that she’s facing similar problems to Adrienne in a different class (working instead of royal). Adrienne needed more friends, especially ones this gung-ho and achievement-oriented.

I’m just worried about pacing, with only one more issue to go with this miniseries — it doesn’t seem that Adrienne will be able to achieve all of her aims, including finding her sister, in just one more installment. I know more miniseries are planned, but I was hoping this one would be a fulfilling read in its eventual book form, and my definition of “satisfying” here includes successfully completing at least one quest.

(The publishers provided review copies of the above titles, most digitally.)

It’s the story of a group of friends, about to be high school seniors, and the choices they make. Issue #1 takes place at a party on the last Saturday of summer 1990. Jim is giving Adrienne a ride. She spent the summer in London, broadening her horizons and losing a good deal of weight. At the party, we meet the rest of the gang: Noel is the clueless host, Terry the geek searching out the next thing, Lorelei Jim’s smarter friend whom he won’t listen to anyway, and Siobhan the girl Jim’s always had a crush on, back from Italy and newly single.

Writer Brad Abraham is a screenwriter (RoboCop: Prime Directives), which likely accounts for how developed the characters are and how dense the dialogue. The black-and-white art is thickly detailed in setting and expression and nicely scratchy in line, keeping with the mood of the alternative bands mentioned: the Pixies, particularly, but also Sonic Youth and The Smiths.

The title emphasizes how important music is to these kids. This is soap opera from the nostalgic perspective of the older and wiser, tied together with a strong hook of well-remembered bands providing the soundtrack to life.

Mixtape #1 is due out in February and can be ordered from your comic shop with Diamond code DEC11 0835. You can find out more about Abraham’s take on music at his website.

story by Jeremy Whitley
art by M. Goodwin
Action Lab Entertainment, $3.99 US

Out tomorrow is the second issue of Princeless, a fresh take on fairy tale ideas. Unfortunately, this issue makes us wait to see what Princess Adrienne is up to in her self-rescue. Instead, we meet Devin, her twin brother, who is busy being berated by their overbearing father. Dad’s child-rearing methods leave a lot to be desired; he’s either locking his daughters away in towers to be rescued because “a woman’s place is to be ruled” or trying to make his son tougher by telling him he’s worthless. (Makes me wonder what King Dad’s childhood was liked; is this like fraternity hazing, where he perpetuates it because he had to live through it?)

I know this issue is trying to set things up for the second half of the story, where Adrienne and Devin seek their younger sister Appalonia, and the siblings learn to value their skills regardless of their gender, but I missed seeing Adrienne have a more proactive role. This is really Devin’s issue, and I wanted more of the girl hero, although we do learn more about how she ended up in the tower in issue #1.

The art is great, with plenty of action and emotion, particularly well-suited to the flashback sections. There are a couple of panels where too many balloons make it difficult to know which way to follow the conversation, and as I said, it would be nice to see Adrienne making more choices instead of simply reacting, but this is only one chapter in the tale. I’m still looking forward to issue #3 (even if the series isn’t going to be the solo girl fantasy story I hoped for, instead becoming more of a family affair). It’s a good lesson in patience, and not getting too caught up in your expectations, because a comic might surprise you in the different direction it takes.

I posted a short preview of issue #1 in case you’d like to see more.

Angel & Faith #4

script by Christos Gage
art by Rebekah Isaacs
Dark Horse Comics, $2.99 US

The first storyline, “Live Through This”, comes to a close with this issue.

I’m not a fan of crazy vampire villain siblings Pearl and Nash, and I think featuring them on the cover with Angel and Faith nowhere in sight is a poor choice. They remind me too much of Spike and Drusilla, and they apparently have history with Angel I’m unfamiliar with (since I started again with Dark Horse’s Buffy universe with this series). However, you need some kind of big action to conclude this part of the story, and for beating up, they serve well enough. Their albino-ish looks are definitely distinctive visually.

There’s even more creepy coming, and that’s one of the things I like best about this series — it’s able to keep surprising me in both the character depth it reveals and the imaginative concepts it spins. Part of that is due to the setting, after “the end of magic”. That makes for a fresh take on things and brings new readers and long-time devoted fans closer together, since neither knows exactly how things work in this new fictional world.

There’s even a meaningful message, in keeping with the symbolism that drew me to the Buffy universe in the first place: be careful what you wish for, because too much of a good thing can be hell. And I’m really enjoying the relationship building between the two title characters. Faith’s a little older, but still that entertaining living-on-the-edge girl — only she’s got better reasons now for what she does. Angel is tortured and driven, but in the service of something I wish for, too: Giles’ return. Even though it shouldn’t happen. I’m curious to see when and how Angel realizes that, too.

Star Trek/Legion of Super-Heroes #1

written by Chris Roberson
pencils by Jeffrey Moy
inks by Philip Moy
IDW Publishing, $3.99 US

I admit, I had nostalgic flashbacks when I saw the Keith Giffen alternate cover (shown here). That grungy look for the adult heroes reminded me of when I first started reading the Legion, and all the changes they (and I) have been through since.

Unfortunately, this is much more a Star Trek story than a Legion one, and a slow-paced one at that. While I simply adore seeing the Moy Brothers’ work again — and they do a terrific job on all the likenesses — not enough happens for me to want to keep up between months with the dribs and drabs of what’s going on. Especially when I know that there will be a friendly collected edition soon enough, where I can read the whole thing at once.

I do wish we’d seen more Legionnaires, too, since that’s the thing that makes the concept so special. Here, they picked the three founders — Cosmic Boy, Saturn Girl, Lightning Lad, the obvious choices — and three that looked like aliens — Brainiac 5, Shadow Lass (in her sexy halter top bathing suit outfit), and Chameleon Boy. And yes, that is how they’re identified, even though they’re drawn as adults.

The two teams have certain elements in common, such as their unwillingness to affect the course of events, for one. And I would love to see Brainy and Spock face off, as suggested by the indicia page. But this issue takes too many pages to simply get the two teams to an alternate Earth where they get attacked. By the end of this installment, they haven’t even met yet! How is that a crossover? (It gets worse — a flip-through of issue #2 shows that by the end of that issue, they STILL haven’t met each other, although they’re about to.)

(The publishers provided review copies of these comics.)

The first chapter tackles the question of identifying the first graphic novel. As someone interested in comic history — that’s why I’m reading this comic — I’d already heard most of this information, so I found myself skimming. Various titles, including Gil Kane’s Blackmark and It Rhymes With Lust, are mentioned in a panel or two each. There’s also an odd deviation of style on the second page, an inconsistency in line and lettering font that makes it look unfinished. It may be intentional, but it seems out of place with the rest of the story.

My favorite part was the short history of Classics Illustrated that’s included in the middle. It has little connection to the rest of the piece, but Ryan Dunlavey’s illustrations, especially, capture the sense of humor and absurdity I like best about this title.

As with the first, the second chapter contained material I was already familiar with, the story of Osamu Tezuka, but the cartooning made the history fresh. It was especially interesting seeing the mash-ups of a Tezuka-styled caricature with his creation Kimba the White Lion or meeting a Walt Disney-faced Mickey Mouse. (That’s the stuff of nightmares if you focus on it too much.) This piece really builds as it goes, with the final section pondering differences between Japanese and American comic styles, accompanied by amusing cross-cultural images. That’s when this series is most worth reading, when the creators hit on just the right picture to summarize the history in a visual way that will stick with the reader.

The final chapter attempts to take the series out with a bang, starting with how hard it was to be a comic fan before the direct market. (Fred Van Lente uses quotes from Michael Uslan, but they’re similar to some of the stories KC’s told.) There are fascinating numbers included, tracing the formation of the dedicated comic retailer and the specialty market. Van Lente isn’t shy about blaming stupid (or just short-sighted) business practices for the booms and busts over the decades, and Dunlavey draws a great bearded ex-retailer in a barrel. It’s weird, reading an accelerated list of the events you’ve lived through, from the rise and fall of Image to the distribution wars.

The story ends with six pages on the internet and scanned comics. Van Lente has a clear position, and he doesn’t make an argument to support it so much as appeal to emotion. At one point, he asserts that it’s just “common sense” that free online comics are responsible for declining sales. He’s a writer, so those are the tools he uses to sway the reader — not logic, but assumption that of course the reader will agree with the narrative voice that so far has stuck to the facts. Since this assertion comes after reiterated examples of ever-skyrocketing prices, the attentive reader might draw other conclusions.

He also doesn’t acknowledge that, while the direct market kept the superhero comic alive, it was a horrible thing for other types of books. (An odd oversight, given the previous paen to diversity in the Tezuka chapter.) Still, these are small bobbles in a chapter that’s reaching widely to consider many of the possible futures for comics. I appreciate his overall positive take on the various potential paths. Ultimately, Comic Book Comics doesn’t have the answer. It’s only been telling us where we’ve been, not where we can go, and we learn history so we don’t have to repeat it.

You can read sample stories at the publisher’s website, and find out more at their page of source notes.

Now he has to figure out what to do to save her — although his choice for her is definitely not the one she would choose for herself, thus demonstrating how much he’s a man of his times. He thinks he’s got to solve things himself, while keeping her in the dark, and that he can figure out what’s “better” for her life. That his solution would keep her alive while making her life not worth living to her never occurs to him, but then, no man wants to think about a woman who would choose her work, her creations, over him.

Although set in the early days of comic books, there’s a lot here that will strike a raw nerve with today’s clued-in readers. She lives and loves comics, while those around her want to punish her for it. No one sees her work as the art it is, because they think the books are disposable. The men don’t want a woman (particularly this one) making books, especially those that have a message they find inappropriate. But mostly, I was struck by one speech a hardboiled character makes:

It’s not about the writers any more. The medium is the message now…. Forget about the writers and control the product. You said these stories were like bombs — well, if the copyright’s yours, they can just as easily be pablum…. Keep it all nice and safe. If the writer complains, kick him out and get some other shmuck to take over.

How particularly timely, no? Given the relaunch of the entire DC line in a way that emphasizes brands and characters over creators, that gave me a shiver.

The framing structure, with a creature perhaps fictional himself (and definitely so, in relation to us) trying to find out why Miri’s Tinker character and his comics are so important, is a terrific way to explore what reading means and the power it has to create new worlds. It’s exaggerated and full of magic and sometimes ridiculous — but that’s what makes it entertaining as well as postmodern. Especially when it comes to the cliffhanger!

And isn’t that old-book mockup cover by Yuko Shimizu dynamite? Eye-catching, sets the mood, appropriate to the story (about researching a 30s pulp story), attractive without being exploitative … I wish more “mainstream” comic covers were that well-done. I’m already wishing that I had the collection of this storyline available for purchase, because I want to read the whole thing, all four issues, and gain the deeper clues they provide taken together.

Francis is a legal assistant with insomnia and an inconsiderate party-happy roommate. She’s the kind of character I feel sorry for — having been in that kind of mind-numbing corporate environment longer than I’d like — at the same time I want to sit her down and give her some advice. She’s got no one in her life to turn to, no one who can put some perspective around her existence right now, so she stumbles through. Don’t get me wrong, she’s good at what she does and she’s not the lovable flake type all too common in indy works. She’s grounded and serious and so all the more someone I wish I could help.

At work, she’s been assigned to clerk for the large company’s head of bankruptcies, a kind of promotion that results in more work and uncertainty for her. Her roommate, an actress, does nothing but get drunk and make Francis feel bad for worrying so much. Vickie drifts, and yet everything works out for her; she’s even talented. Francis struggles.

Ethan Rilly clearly knows whereof he speaks, since he gets down the authentic details of this kind of corporate existence. His incidents are detailed and specific yet universally relatable. Visually, even though we’re watching a woman wander through office corridors, his work is outstanding. The clean lines and full environments are beautiful, providing a sense of motion that gives the feeling these characters are real and solid and about to move.

There’s nothing unusual about seeing this kind of portrayal of uncertain new adults in comics, but Rilly draws it all so well that it felt fresh and worth reading. The portrayal of the all-powerful boss is particularly intriguing. He’s a bull of a man with excessively wide shoulders, a tiny head on top, and oddly blank staring eyes. In a weird way, he reminded me of Igoo from The Herculoids if he were human.

Pope Hats #2, in addition to this lengthy main story, contains a backup in which a young man traveling by bus monologues on his experiences during an overnight trip. There are also two one-pagers. Like an excellent art film, this comic is one I can come back to at different points and find new discoveries within.

There’s a PDF preview at the publisher’s website; they provided a review copy.

I didn’t think I cared at all about yet another 80s fandom turned into a comic, until I flipped through and noticed that this issue was doing something that’s easiest to do only in this medium: mashing up this property with another cult classic.

Since the book opens with a dream sequence, it makes sense that several favorites reappear, which also provides plenty of excitement, as the issue skips from high point to high point, until the moment that won me over. Dr. Raymond Stantz (played by Dan Ackroyd in the movie) is getting a portentous warning from a beloved figure — who’s shorter, rounder, and wearing a dark suit, skinny tie, hat, and shades. Yes, it’s his companion Blues Brother. (You can see the sequence in these preview pages.) What a great idea for a mystic figure of guidance for that character!

I like the cartoony, caricature-like artwork, making the cast recognizable but not likenesses. I especially appreciated the opening reintroduction — it has been almost 30 years since the movie — particularly because it’s hosted by my favorite, Janine, the assistant played by Annie Potts. The interaction among the cast is fun, although there’s no immediately quotable wisecrack, the way every other line turned out in the original film. There are jokes, though, some more successful than others.

I don’t feel lost, even though I haven’t paid much attention to all the various Ghostbusters cartoons and games and such beyond the two movies. It’s an amusing read, the more so if you’re a fan. A short backup provides a re-introduction to another old foe, and the book ends with a few character design sketch pages. (The publisher provided a review copy.)

I know, that really says more about me than about the book, and it’s an unfair assumption to bring to an action-adventure title. But haven’t we seen girls battle vampires over and over? Even though the fight scenes are well-drawn and exciting, what attracts me here are the conversations and feelings and motivations.

Although it’s a case of “be careful what you wish for”, since we spend a lot of time inside Faith’s head here, which feels odd to me. She was always the tough one, the hard shell, the one who did what needed to be done regardless of how she felt about it. Wallowing over worries about what others thought of you was for Buffy and her buddies, and Faith was never really part of that group. But she’s a title character now, and we need to learn more about her to make this book more than fight scenes and nostalgia.

Plus, someone’s got to narrate, and Faith’s a better choice than Angel, who seems a bit demented once again. His goal, as set out in the first issue, is to bring Giles back from the dead, and here, we learn how he intends to do it.

Any excuse for a flashback with the professor. Even though he’s departed, Giles is a significant supporting player here, and he provides some necessary moral guidance, even through memory. Like the others, he’s drawn exactly as he should be. It’s a welcome comfort seeing these characters look and act (the hard part) like their original actors.

The publisher’s website has preview pages. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

In this mini-anthology, Sam Costello and Neal Von Flue do an excellent job pointing out the strange nature of these cultural nuggets. Four songs are included:

• The Wind and the Rain — about two sisters in love with the same man, and the murderous events that resulted
• The Wreck of the Old 97 — in which an engineer, pushed to catch up his work schedule, crashes the train
• The Mermaid — in rhyme, sailors face the death they know is coming by shipwreck when a mermaid is spotted
• Henry Lee — a demonstration of the twisted mind that thinks “if I can’t love him, I’ll kill him”

After each comic adaptation, there are text pages that provide some history about the song and how the comic was made, including the lyrics for the version used and on which recordings you can hear them.

The first tale is sectioned into panels, with thick black borders making the page resemble a memory box. While the larger sections illustrate the story, the smaller establish setting, with glimpses of a rainstorm and other events to come. The introductory section takes on ghoulish new meaning once the reader is familiar with the whole tale. The events aren’t realistic, but they’re primal and oddly satisfying to ponder.

Von Flue’s colored pencils are perfect for the subject, providing an old-fashioned, looking-through-time feel, as though watching something softened by memory. This book does just what a comic should, taking us to another time or place and making us understand what life might be like there. Even if, as in some of these cases, that other land is one of madness.

Labor and Love is debuting at this year’s Small Press Expo, or it can be ordered from that title link. I can’t imagine re-reading this, but the time I spent with it was unsettling and transformative, as intended. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

Cover by Steve Morris

A lot of what happened previously is mentioned, so I didn’t feel left out. In fact, sometimes I wished characters were talking less and doing more (especially since I thought the plot choices they were describing were stupid, but maybe they played differently if you read them in the comic). It was as though I was back in school — it was good for me to hear it, in the long run, but sometimes I wished we could get back to the physical action and go outside for recess. Still, this is a first issue, so I expect the mix will be different in future.

The characters look remarkably like themselves, always a plus when dealing with a cast that started on TV. We open with a flashback to Giles, which made me miss him all the more. It does a great job blending the journal narration and its deeper feelings with visual action and sacrifice. Cut to the two title stars, following up on a promise made a while back, complete with authentic-sounding wisecracks. Christos Gage and Rebekah Isaacs are doing a terrific job of recreating these characters in familiar fashion, which is what fans want and what I find appealing here.

Angel and Faith are entertaining, without the baggage of Buffy or some of her other companions. They play well off each other, since both have tortured histories and the ability to say whatever they’re thinking. There are plenty of plot threads set up for future issues, some more intriguing to me than others, but I’m curious to see what these two do next. That’s all a first issue can ask to do, right?

The publisher’s website has preview pages. (The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

“Murder at the Inn” is part two of two, revealing the killer of a traveling paper dealer knocked off at the end of #139, but it’s not essential to have read the previous issue to enjoy this one. You’re given the cast of characters at the beginning of this installment, and the last issue was mostly atmospheric, bringing the varied cast together at an inn during a rainstorm. The relationships and potential motives are reintroduced here, since author Stan Sakai knows how to make accessible (and enjoyable) comics.

The title samurai Usagi Yojimbo plays second fiddle this time around, backing up Inspector Ishida in his investigation and determination to see justice done. As is the case in any good historical mystery, there are those special people who think that their power or rank means the rules of society don’t apply to them, but Ishida (with the aid of Usagi’s blade) reminds them otherwise. What a thrilling reminder, one that gets at the heart of the appeal of reading mysteries. We like to be reminded that, regardless of what happens out here in the real world, in fiction, at least, people get what’s coming to them; mysteries are solved; and villainy is scorned and punished.

I’m always pleasantly surprised by how expressive Sakai’s simple character designs are, even though we’re looking at animals, and this story is no different. Just look at those first two of the Players, and note the supercilious self-importance of the Poet (a son of someone important) and the gruff acceptance of his bodyguard Benki. Meanwhile, Kami (the victim) and his child Ayano have similar expressions, although their face styles are different. (And now I’m wondering what Ayano’s mother looked like, given the difference in their ears.)

As events are retold and explained, the solution to the killing gradually becomes clear, and other crimes as well are involved and then solved. Given that this story is subtitled “An Inspector Ishida Mystery”, I wondered if there were other stories with this protector of the law, and the answer turns out to be yes! Unfortunately, a brief search didn’t turn up specific issue numbers to seek out to read more. Ideally, there’d be a themed collection with all his stories. What a great gift for a fan of historical mysteries that would be!

(The publisher provided a digital review copy.)

As they struggle with balancing school, powers, friends, and relationship, they also learn more about themselves and what they need and are capable of … it’s just like my college days, only I couldn’t fly.

The perspective of the story is very much his, combining a coming-of-age “how do I make the right decisions?” story with romance, although she’s portrayed in more three-dimensional fashion than this point might suggest. We spend more time with him and better understand his motivations, and he’s shown as the logical, correct one when the two spat. He defines himself as an individual; she defines herself as a girlfriend (or an ex). He learns his lessons quickly, and seemingly without the pain most tough choices bring with them. Even in scenes where he’s not present, the other characters discuss him. This isn’t a reason to avoid the story, just a note that it’s not equally balanced — he’s the center, and male readers will thus find more to relate to in the lead.

Overall, the dialogue sounds realistic, if a bit amped for dramatic purposes. Either way, it’s entertaining to read. The art is well-suited to the age group of the characters, with a slightly cartoony style that keeps things light and an interesting, thick-outline, almost layered look that makes the foreground characters pop.

There’s a lot jammed into this first effort. A more polished writer might have smoothed out the flow a bit, or tweaked the pacing in certain scenes, but the relatively short page count is also to blame for so many events happening bang after each other, and the lessons learned seeming so quick and easy.

You can buy Lightning Girl Loves Rocket Boy from IndyPlanet, and the website for Hypersmash Studios, the publisher, has some preview pages. And I owe them a huge apology, since I first talked to them about this book last year, when Mike Sterling reviewed it. I’m sorry, guys, that it took me so long to tell people about it.