2016 Advent Calendar --- day 23

Another collection of classic comic book covers.  This time I chose covers of comic collections.

My favorite superhero story, with the most beautiful superhero art of any comic, by David Mazzucchelli.  And this cover just epitomized the simple beauty of his linework. 

THE classic X-Men story, with a cover from Bill Sienkiewicz.  Come on.

A painted George Perez cover. I love the design of this cover, as well as Perez's sharp linework. Great

Dave McKean's covers for Sandman are breathtaking.  And each of the collections has its own distinct feel.  I went with "The Wake" because I love the metaphorical image the centers it all.  

Scott Morse is one of my all-time favorite comic creators.  Soulwind is his magnum opus.  As with Watchmen, I really loved the design of the covers for the five books of Soulwind--simple but elegant.

My Top 10 Comics [Storylines edition] -- # 1-5

WHO WILL WIN?

 

So, I had a twitter discussion with Brad Gullickson (@MouthDork, co-host of the In the Mouth of Dorkness podcast: @ITMODcast) a few weeks back about “The Best Comics Ever” and how it’s always Watchmen and Dark Knight Returns at the top—kind of like Citizen Kane almost always topping the list of greatest films ever.  It’s hard to argue with not only the artistry and formalistic approach to both of these books but also the impact and influence these two books had, something that still hangs over the comic book landscape thirty years out.  It seems these two books, along with Art Spiegelman’s MAUS, are baked into the top 3 spots, all-time, for comic storytelling.  But do they need to be?  Might there be other works that have transcended the bounds of the field since then (or even prior to 1986)?  Possibly.  I think it would depend upon your criteria, since these lists are always subjective, in spite of any arguments to the contrary. 

Using this discussion as a jumping off point, I decided to come up with my personal top 10 comics.  Some of the guidelines I set for myself were to consider works other than those perennial top 3 (certainly, that introduced a bias against these books, but so be it; I doubt anyone’s going to forget about Watchmen & Dark Knight if I don’t list them here), to attempt not to repeat creators within these ten titles (otherwise, I could easily see Alan Moore flooding my list), and to weigh, heavily, how many times I have re-read these stories.  Also, for the most part, I worked to only include individual collections—whether an original graphic novel or a single storyline from a larger work—but you will notice I failed at that, in a couple of spots. 

You can check out the first post, covering numbers 6-10 +11, here.  The top 5 follow this rambling preamble.  And, hey, feel free to disagree with me and drop a note in the comments with your own top 10.  I’d be interested to see what others feel are the best of the best.  Thanks.

#5:
Pompeii, by Frank Santoro  

I was introduced to Santoro’s work at the 2007 MoCCA Festival in New York, with the initial four issues of the series he created with Ben Jones, Cold Heat.  (check out a spotlight & interview with Santoro, for that series, here).  A student of fine art as well as comics, Santoro utilizes a scaled back, contour line approach to his art that appears simple, on its surface, but is one that can more strongly engage an audience in the hands of a master, which, I feel, Santoro is.  As a writer/artist, he tends to craft quiet, emotional narratives that eschew over-rendering and over-writing, in order to get at the heart of the matter, and he does it magnificently.  Pompeii tells the story of an artist’s apprentice, Marcus, in this ancient city, during the couple of days leading up to the eruption of Vesuvius.  Weaving threads of his master’s romantic entanglements with Marcus’s questioning of his own relationship, this book works on numerous levels and rewards subsequent readings.  Not only do we have the mirroring of the master’s and apprentice’s story, but Santoro similarly crafts pages to accentuate this theme of mirroring, with facing pages often subtly inverting one another, through their layout and subject.  It’s a merging of art and story that is distinct and rare, in comics.  If you’ve never read anything by Santoro, then check this book out.  It’s amazing.

#4:
The Tragical Comedy or Comical Tragedy of Mr. Punch, by Neil Gaiman & Dave McKean

Gaiman & McKean have crafted memorably elegant stories together, but Mr. Punch is, in my opinion, their most ambitious collaboration.  Weaving a story of childhood memories, lost in the fog of time, punctuated by the very British tale of Mr. Punch, these two artists created a book that is not only engaging and heartfelt, but also one that does not talk down to readers.  This is a book that does not tie every plot thread with a bow, and, in fact, revels in the murkiness of human memory, postulating various ideas of what “really happened,” as far as the main character’s recollection goes.  There are answers, buried deep within the narrative, but they may not be the right ones, and they probably aren’t the same ones your friend would take away from this book.  And that is worth your time, at the very least.  Plus, McKean is doing the art, so the pages are beautiful to look at while also adding to the mystery and emotion of the narrative.  This book is so damn good.   

#3:
MAUS, by Art Spiegelman  

This book is a masterpiece.  The only comic to win a Pulitzer, an accolade that is well deserved.  Spiegelman interweaves the tale of his relationship with his difficult father, with that of his father’s odyssey as a young Jewish man in Germany, at the time of Hitler, and his subsequent toils in concentration camps, where much of his family was murdered.  It is a poignant, heart-wrenching, complex story that is expertly delineated by Spiegelman, delving into uncomfortable, and tragically horrific, depths of his and his father’s life, in ways I expect most people would balk at.  This is an important story told without artifice, through a medium that—when done as well as Spiegelman does here—can engage its audience, while also enveloping them within the narrative as well as, or better, than almost any other.  I read this book every couple of years, and it never fails to cut me to the quick.  Brilliant.

 #2:
Love & Rockets [all of it!], by Los Bros Hernandez

Fantagraphics started publishing this seminal comic, from brothers Xaime, Gilbert, and Mario Hernandez, in 1982.  The brilliance of this comic is not only in the beautiful artwork of the Brothers Hernandez, but also in the intelligence of the writing.  Over the course of nearly 35 years, they have crafted long-running narratives that are as complex and fraught and ecstatic and real as any life, and they have done this for myriad characters.  From the magical-realist fantasies of Beto to the poignant Locas tales featuring Maggie & Hopey, Los Bros Hernandez have infused their comics with love and sadness, and all emotions between, along with elements from all genres of literature—with female wrestling, weird aliens, a man with devil’s horns on his head, ghosts (that are very real), super heroes, and most anything else you could imagine, making their way into these stories.  And yet, these aspects never pull you out of the story, and they never undermine the very real truths being revealed through these comics.  The characters found in Love and Rockets are some of the most real people you will ever meet.  And that gets to the heart of what has made this comic such an amazing piece of art—the fact that these artists have allowed their characters to age, and to grow, with relationships changing over time, to great dramatic and emotional effect.  It’s not just the brilliance of Los Bros Hernandez as storytellers that elevates Love and Rockets, but their ability to call back to earlier stories and wring the emotional weight from that with a contemporary narrative that puts the entire lives of characters, and the previous decades’ worth of comics, into a different light.  This may be the best long-form comic series, ever, and you need to read it all.  Now.

#1:
From Hell, by Alan Moore & Eddie Campbell  

Alan Moore, early in his career, said in an interview—and I paraphrase—that he didn’t wish to work with artists whom he felt were better writers than himself, because he wanted them to be creating their own new comics, and he was speaking of Eddie Campbell.  When these two finally decided to collaborate, they tackled the murders of Jack the Ripper, laying out a conspiracy that reached as high as Queen Victoria, while examining how these horrific murders echoed up through the twentieth century, all while Moore annotated every bit of it (except for one scene, forcing readers to go back and re-read the 500+ pages to find the clues for that piece of the puzzle).  A fictionalized recreation of these murders, and the man behind them, Moore & Campbell were the perfect team to bring this story to life.  From Moore’s formalism as a writer, and his use of theme, symbolism, and foreshadowing, among other literary techniques, to Campbell’s dark etchings, they manage to completely capture the feeling of this era, and the fear that surrounded these few months of 1888, in London, this is a master class in comic storytelling, while also breaking away from some outdated conventions of the medium (most notably, the opportunity for them to craft chapters as long as they wanted, and was needed, as with prose novels).  If you’ve only seen the film, you have no idea how powerful From Hell is.  Ever since I first read it, this one has been at the top of my list, and I don’t see it ever falling from its peak. 

So, what are your top 10 comic storylines?  Drop them in the comments section and let’s start arguing talking.  Thanks for reading, and take care.

-chris

My Top 10 Comics [Storylines edition] -- # 6-10

So, I had a twitter discussion with Brad Gullickson (@MouthDork, co-host of the In the Mouth of Dorkness podcast: @ITMODcast) a few weeks back about “The Best Comics Ever” and how it’s always Watchmen and Dark Knight Returns at the top—kind of like Citizen Kane almost always topping the list of greatest films ever.  It’s hard to argue with not only the artistry and formalistic approach to both of these books but also the impact and influence these two books had, something that still hangs over the comic book landscape thirty years out.  It seems these two books, along with Art Spiegelman’s MAUS, are baked into the top 3 spots, all-time, for comic storytelling.  But do they need to be?  Might there be other works that have transcended the bounds of the field since then (or even prior to 1986)?  Possibly.  I think it would depend upon your criteria, since these lists are always subjective, in spite of any arguments to the contrary. 

Using this discussion as a jumping off point, I decided to come up with my personal top 10 comics.  Some of the guidelines I set for myself were to consider books other than those perennial top 3 (certainly, that introduced a bias against these books, but so be it; I doubt anyone’s going to forget about Watchmen & Dark Knight if I don’t list them here), to attempt not to repeat creators within these ten titles (otherwise, I could easily see Alan Moore flooding my list), and to weigh, heavily, how many times I have re-read these stories.  Also, for the most part, I worked to only include individual collections—whether an original graphic novel or a single storyline from a larger work—but you will notice I failed at that, in a couple of spots. 

So, without further equivocation, here’s the initial fistful of greatest comic stories I have read, numbers 6-10, in reverse order.  And, hey, feel free to disagree with me and drop a note in the comments with your own top 10.  I’d be interested to see what others feel are the best of the best.  Thanks.

#10:
Cerebus: Jaka’s Story, by Dave Sim & Gerhard.  

Dave Sim is one of the greatest cartoonists ever to work in the comic book medium, and it could even be argued he is the greatest to put ink to Strathmore.  The emotional depth of his best writing, along with the wit and intelligence also on display there, coupled with his facility in body language and facial expressions and layout with his drawings, are second to none.  Add in the emotive quality of his lettering, and you have a five-tool player, as they say in baseball.  The fact that he did this, primarily, in telling the story of an anthropomorphized barbarian aardvark and managed to tell some of the truest, most engaging comics ever published in the medium, and you get a sense of his ability.  Jaka’s Story, for me, is the one I most engaged with, and the one that tugged at my heart the strongest.  Thus, it comes in at number ten.

#9:
Saga of the Swamp Thing, vol. 1, by Alan Moore, Steve Bissette, John Totleben, Rick Veitch, et al.

Swamp Thing was the breakthrough book for Alan Moore, his first American comics work, back in 1984.  Paired with artists Steve Bissette, John Totleben, and Rick Veitch, along with a number of others, these creators managed to pull Alec Holland from the murky depths of D-list character to critical and commercial success.  The brilliance of these stories is not just in the writing, wherein Alan Moore reimagined the Swamp Thing’s reality without discounting any of the character’s history, but in the conjunction of art and story.  In all interviews I’ve read from this creative team, it sounds like a true collaboration, where Bissette & Totleben & Veitch were integral figures in plotting, offering ideas and images that Moore would weave into his scripts, and I think the final product bears out the benefits of this strong partnership.  Moore’s thoughtful approach to storytelling and his purple prose, coupled with the eerily moody artwork of these artistic giants, created a horror comic that not only made you feel uncomfortable, but also made you think.  And, to this day, it still holds up extremely well.

#8:
Daredevil: Born Again, by Frank Miller & David Mazzucchelli

My favorite superhero story of all time, period.  Miller was at the height of his artistic powers, in 1986, when these comics were published, and he got to work with a master of the medium in Mazzucchelli, who, in my opinion, delineated the most beautiful, “traditional-style” superhero art, ever, with this storyline.  A comic book that used symbolic imagery, sharp dialogue, clean artwork, and an adult sensibility to tell a tale that is Shakespearean in its scope, this was my introduction to the character of Daredevil, and even though there’s a lot of backstory that infuses the narrative with its emotional weight, I never felt lost or disconnected from the story or the characters, and the book has only rewarded my time with every re-read since then. 

 #7:
Vietnam Journal #1-16, by Don Lomax

Vietnam Journal was the first black and white comic I collected, and it is the best war comic I’ve ever read.  Lomax was a Vietnam veteran himself, and he infused his stories with a truth, however harsh it may have been, that sets this book apart from all other war books.  Following Scott “Journal” Niethammer, a journalist who volunteered to cover the Vietnam War, we learn a lot about the war, about how the grunts on the ground felt about it, and about the horror that war is.  This, like so many great comics, is not a standout series because of just the writing or just the art, it is a combination of truthful writing and a black and white art style that is able to reveal the ugliness of the circumstances and settings of the comic.  It does not glorify violence, nor does it gorify it.  Lomax manages to (and this is the best word, so I’ll use it again) reveal the Vietnam War in a way that kicks you right in the gut.  It’s an amazing book, and one you should seek out, as these 16 issues, along with later stories, have all been collected.

#6:
The Barefoot Serpent, by Scott Morse

The brilliance of Barefoot Serpent is not only in its format—a quick biography of Akira Kurosawa, done in full-color paintings, bookending a tale of a girl and her family on vacation in Hawaii, which is done in sepia tones—but in its subtlety of execution.  There are things in this short book, whether connections between the Kurosawa parts and the short fiction or hidden elements within either of these pieces singly, that will fly past you, on an initial read.  But, once you make those connections in subsequent readings, the thematic cohesiveness of this book will become apparent and make you appreciate it far more.  Again, it is the writing and the art, and the combination of both, that elevates this book beyond so much else available for your enjoyment.  Morse’s animation style is deceiving, putting forth a façade of whimsy and lightness that is undermined by the gravity of the tale he is weaving (a hallmark of almost all of Morse’s work), and it is this juxtaposition of whimsical art and heavy topics that makes the story resonate more strongly with its audience, even after you close the book. 

SPECIAL MENTION (or #11):
Cages by Dave McKean

I feel like this should definitely be on this list, but the truth is I have only read Cages the one time, many years ago, and never returned to it, due to its length and complexity rather than any shortcoming of its narrative.  Since it has been years, and actually closing in on two decades, since I read Cages, and my recollection of the story is lost, I didn’t feel I could properly include it in my top 10.  That said, my one memory of reading McKean’s Cages, other than how beautiful it is, was the fact that it was incredibly well written, something I was not expecting.  I was, and am, a fan of Neil Gaiman—he’s one of my favorite authors—and the only work I’d read of McKean’s had been with Gaiman (or Grant Morrison), but I distinctly remember thinking that Cages was at least as good as Sandman, my second-favorite long form comic series of all time, and that impressed me.  So, having added it here, as an addendum, I feel it’s near time to revisit this book and see if it will crack my top 10.  I’ve got a feeling it will, and I’ll let you know if that happens.  But, for now, I need to get to writing the next post, about my top 5 comics.  See you then.

-chris

Thoughts on Batman: Arkham Asylum

The Comic Geek Speak guys do a monthly discussion called Book of the Month Club. They choose, on a rotating schedule, a DC, a Marvel, an international, and an "other" book, and these are some of the most fun episodes for me, and the ones that I often find myself contributing a lot to in the forums. Last month, they did Arkham Asylum, the classic Batman graphic novel from Grant Morrison and Dave McKean. You can check the episode out here.

It really was one of the best discussions I've enjoyed from these guys. And it really made me think about this book in a new way. The ideas I've got swirling around are still coalescing, and I'd like to write something a bit more about this book at a later date. But for now, you can check out my initial thoughts on the book after the image. And please, add your own thoughts. We can only examine a book through our own personal experiences and learnings. I welcome other points of view and appreciate what I can learn from others, which is exactly what I got from this particular book of the month club discussion.

- This characterization of Batman/Bruce Wayne is different from the typical Batman comic. He is scared to go into Arkham, and this is something I cannot remember having read in any Batman book before (though possibly Knightfall looked at this). I can see what Morrison is saying here

– and he makes sure we get it when Batman tells Jim Gordon that he’s afraid the Joker might be correct in believing Batman belongs in Arkham with the inmates – but I have a slight problem with his quavering voice while speaking to Joker on the phone: “And . . . and what if I say no?” because, as I read this, he’s speaking in front of the rest of the police officers there. I don’t believe Batman would let his guard down in front of beat cops. But that’s a minor nitpick.

(I don’t think I would have considered this a few years ago when reading Arkham Asylum. I’m a big Grant Morrison fan and love new, fresh takes on old characters. But Matt’s rants about Batman’s characterization on the show has informed, a bit, my re-reading of this book)

- That said, I found it very interesting that he spoke of Batman in the 3rd person when discussing entering Arkham. "Batman's not afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid that Joker might be right." I also felt this was more in character because he and Jim had stepped away to a place more private, and the relationship that has been developed between these two is so close that it makes sense. They both trust one another implicitly and Bruce would be able to confide in Jim, one of his very few friends.

- This Joker is as crazy as any we have seen in the regular comics, but he is also more terrifying than ever. I think a lot of that has to do with McKean's evocative artwork. (That scene after the two-page spread showing us the inside of Arkham, where Joker puts Charlie in his place, is disturbing, see panel 4 of that page)

- I like how Morrison explains away all the disparate characterizations of the Joker through the psychotherapist's, Ruth Adams’s, diagnosis that the Joker may have gone beyond sanity and insanity, to a point where he has no personality at all.

- As the psychotherapist says, it may be a "new modification of human perception. More suited to urban life at the end of the twentieth century. . . . the Joker seems to have no control over the sensory information he's receiving . . . He can only cope with that chaotic barrage of input by going with the flow. . . . some days he's a mischievous clown, others a psychopathic killer. He has no real personality. He creates himself each day."

- The Joker card Amadeus Arkham finds in the flashback is obviously symbolic of the insanity that resides in that house, and will always reside in that house, like some force of nature.

- The ease with which the word association breaks down Batman is intriguing, but, again, seems to go against his nature, his character. What is it about this night, in this house, that is causing his emotions to be so close to the surface? Is there anything causing it, or is it just a completely different take by Morrison?

- the juxtaposition of Batman running to hide in Arkham with his reminiscences of going to the movies with his parents, and of being rebuked by his mother after Bambi and then having her taken away from him after Zorro really accentuates the fractured psyche of Bruce Wayne/Batman. If he were to let go of his war against crime, he could easily become a madman, lost within the confines of his own broken mind.

- The way McKean draws the Joker in close-up - with those tiny pupils and the sea of red surrounding his eyes - is just creepy, disturbing in a manner the Joker's never been before.

- The house of cards built with Two-Face's new decision-making device (Dr. Adams having moved Two-Face from his coin, to a 6-sided die, to this deck of taro cards with 78 possibilities for making a decision) is a visual symbol of what has happened to his psyche (how fragile it is) and foreshadows what will happen to his rehabilitation (it will fall/fail)

- Arkham's discovery of his wife's and daughter's bodies is devastating, and this is accentuated by the artwork, awash in red. Also, the fact that it occurs on April 1, enhances the connection between this past narrative and the present, while also accentuating the thread of madness carried throughout the history of this house.

- Arkham taping over the mirror in his study to do away with the laughter he hears in the empty cells of the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum is very telling and relates to Batman's run-in with the Mad Hatter, while more importantly symbolizing the very real fear of being "at home" in the asylum that Batman/Bruce Wayne has.

- the manner in which Dave McKean draws all of these villains goes against any rendition of them before, and allows he and Morrison to create something completely different with this book. It's refreshing, if morbid.

- The confrontation between Batman and Killer Croc, overwritten by the excerpts from Arkham's journal, just heightens the futility of Batman's war on crime. He can never win, because there will always be more of them than him, and because, given the right set of circumstances, he could become one of them just as easily as they all did.

- One could argue that Morrison almost overplays his authorial hand – it can certainly be argued whether he overwrites these scenes, I’d be interested in others’ thoughts

– with the parallels between Arkham and Bruce Wayne - particularly the tragedy of their close relationships between their mothers being taken away a too early a time.

- The bat pursuing Arkham's mother is yet another thread that passes through the history of this house. In 1920 Elizabeth Arkham, in her madness, was pursued by the apparition of a bat, while in the present, all of the really crazy inmates have been pursued by Batman for years.

- When Batman says, "I . . I'm just a man," is that an image of Jesus in the background? If so, it accentuates the reality that he is not just a man, as Jesus was not just a man.

- Batman being taken by Dr. Cavendish is the symbolic lowpoint of Batman’s journey in this book, right before his redemption, which begins:

- When Batman realizes that his madness is his drive to keep fighting against these madmen, and it is that drive, that madness, that makes him strong, and makes him who he is. Madness drives the Batman.

- And Harvey Dent's final decision is the one true decision he's been able to make for years. Somehow, he made a conscious choice not to follow what the coin said. But this breakthrough can't last. Why?