SAGA OF THE SWAMP THING #20 -- Alan Moore's Scene Transitions

Alan Moore is my favorite comic book writer. Depending on the day, he's my favorite writer, regardless of medium. Known for his formalism, Moore has crafted groundbreaking runs of comics that upended convention and made readers and creators alike look at the medium in a new way. One of the formalistic flourishes Moore is known for is his scene transitions, and when he got the chance to write American comics, Moore came out of the gate in issue #20 of Saga of the Swamp Thing with his thoughtful approach to this aspect of comics. An aspect often overlooked by many creators.  

Something that resonates with me about Moore's "Swamp Thing" run is the fact that my first few read-throughs I wasn't even aware of the connective tissue Moore was adhering to the scene transitions within a given issue. I was pulled along by the narrative, engaging with the story without seeing the work Moore and his collaborators were doing behind the scenes. Maybe it was just me (and maybe you spotted his scene transitions from the jump), but I feel like one of Moore's greatest strengths as a writer is his ability to include these formalistic attributes in his stories but make them, and the narrative as a whole, feel natural, for the reading experience to flow effortlessly without the parallelism or the symbolism or the connecting phrases and images between scenes to ever feel out of place or clunky (to use a technical term). It's this ability to craft an engaging tale while also layering it with added depth -- that isn't necessary for understanding the story but enriches the experience if you find it -- that sets Moore apart from almost anyone else who has worked in the comic medium. And that's why he's been my favorite writer for a while. 

So, one of my favorite podcasts, Comic Book Couples Counseling, is starting a new book club where they will be reading and discussing Moore's "Swamp Thing" run, one issue at a time. That spurred me to reacquaint myself with the keyboard, and I plan to follow along and share my insights into this landmark series here, while Brad & Lisa inhabit your ears with their own perspective. My plan is to focus on these scene transitions in one post and possibly include a more general analysis of the issue in a second one. We'll see how it goes. But, for now, here are a collection of the scene transitions found in Moore's first issue of Saga of the Swamp Thing, issue #20, titled "Loose Ends." 

Transition pp. 3-4: 
At the bottom of page 3, Swamp Thing thinks, "And what...am I going to do now?"
Page 4 opens with a shadowed figure asking, "Well, General? You know where they are. What are you going to do now?"
This showcases one of Moore's transitional techniques -- utilizing parallel dialogue.

                  

Transition pp. 5-6:

At the bottom of page 5, the General says their targets (including Swamp Thing) are "in for a rude awakening..." which continues in the caption at the top of page 6, "...a very rude awakening, indeed." This talk of 'awakening' leads into panel 1 on page 6 where Lizabeth Tremayne is yawning deeply as she wakes up from a night's sleep. 
Here we see another of Moore's transitional techniques -- dialogue from one scene being paralleled by an image in the next one.

   

 

Transition pp. 7-8:

This two-page spread across pages 6 & 7 opened with the caption about Lizabeth being, "used to taking her sunlight a little more diluted." When we shift from this daylight scene back to Swamp Thing on page 8, he is thinking, "I made my way back here...to the moon," which is in reference to The New Moon Motel where some of Swampy's companions were staying for the night.
Moore uses yet another transitional technique -- that of opposites: in this case, the sun and the moon.

Transition pp. 8-9:

At the bottom of page 8, Swamp Thing thinks, "Maybe the world has run out of room...for monsters..." which continues over to the first caption on page 9, "...or maybe...[the monsters]'re just getting harder to recognize." This leads into the first panel of page 9 where a local is speaking to a soldier, saying, "[Let me] get this straight. A monster, is that what y're saying?" This local is incredulous at what he is hearing, not able to recognize that there would be a monster in the area. But the transition is doubled, since this local is looking at one of the monsters in this story, the soldier, and he is unable to recognize him for the villain he is. 

Once again, Moore utilizes parallel dialogue to connect the two scenes in this transition. 

Transition p. 9, panels 3-4:

On this page, Moore does something that isn't common in western comics -- and is something he praised highly when writing an introduction for a Love & Rockets series by one of the Hernandez brothers -- the transition from one scene to the next on a single page. Typically, American comics will transition scenes from one page to the next, not on the same page. 
The same local mentioned in the previous transition has now accepted the soldier's explanation and is all too happy to help, asking, "Say, you need a hand with those searchlights, son?"
This transitions to Matt & Abby Cable. Abby asks, "How about a little light in here, huh?" 

Again, Moore uses parallel dialogue to connect the scenes. 

Transition pp. 12:

I was unable to discern any connecting aspects for the scene transition in the middle of this page. But I include the page here, in the hopes that someone might see what I was unable to.

Transition pp. 12-13:

One of the soldiers comments that the General is "...really tying up some loose ends here today, ain't he?" A second soldier agrees, and his comment continues over to the first caption of page 13, "Every damned one." The caption is set over the first panel where Liz and Dennis have returned to the motel to pick up their belongings. This caption does double duty, because not only are Liz and Dennis two of the loose ends the General is tying up, but they are also damned because of the General's coming retribution. 

This is another example of dialogue from the first scene being paralleled with the imagery of the following scene. 

                       

Transition pp. 15-16:

Two saboteurs had set a bomb in Liz and Dennis's motel room, and the explosion left little remaining. But they need proof of their success, so one of them asks, "Couldn't we just count heads or something?" His companion says, "Great idea, Henry. You find 'em..." which ends page 15, while the dialogue continues over the page into the first caption of page 16, which reads, "...an' I'll count 'em." This caption is overlaid onto panel 1, where a soldier is counting down, "Zero minus fifteen. Zero minus ten. Minus five." 

More parallel dialogue, though not directly so. One bit discusses the act of counting, while the second has a character actually counting.  

Transition pp. 16-17:

At the bottom of page 16, the soldiers turn on a collection of flood lights, in order to find Swamp Thing, who comments, "Aren't they...going to leave any darkness..."  "Are they...going to...take away everything?" His internal monologue continues over to page 17, where the first three captions say, "Everything that's...dark...and private...and silent?" These final captions are set above the first panel where Matt Cable sits in darkness, his face half in shadows. 

Here Moore utilizes two techniques to connect the scenes. First, he has the dialogue lamenting the loss of the 'dark' that parallels Matt Cable sitting in darkened shadows. But Moore also has the visuals -- the forest awash in floodlights transitioning to its opposite of Matt in darkness. 

Transition pp. 17-18:

The main action of this page is a military helicopter that fires a missile at Abby & Matt's home, destroying it. At the bottom of the page, the pair stand at the edge of the tree line watching their home burn. The final caption on this page is from Swamp Thing (leading into his reappearance on the next page). It says, "Nowhere is...safe any more." Swampy's inner monologue continues across the first three panels of page 18: "Nowhere. Not for...anybody. Not in the...world of nature." In these three panels, Swamp Thing emerges from the shadows behind a soldier, wraps his muck-encrusted hand around the soldier's now terrified face, and tosses him away. 

Here, again, Moore connects the dialogue from Swamp Thing about nowhere being safe with the paralleled imagery in the scenes, as Matt & Abby's home was not safe from destruction while the soldier was not safe from Swamp Thing's attack. So the dialogue parallels the imagery, and just to double up, the images parallel each other without being similar. 

DESTROY ALL MONSTERS by Ed Brubaker & Sean Phillips, with Jacob Phillips

 

1988, Los Angeles, and Ethan Reckless is feeling his age. His body aches all over -- reminders of the gunshots, stabbings, and explosions he's survived -- and he's a step slower, in both a literal and intellectual sense. How did it all go to shit so fast? 

Anna, Ethan's more-than-sidekick-but-not-quite-partner-slash-best-friend is also feeling her age. Approaching thirty, with a steady boyfriend, she wants to get out from beneath Ethan's shadow, find out who she is and what she wants to make of her life. To that end, Anna's decided to move in with Dmitri, crossing the 405 freeway -- across town from where she and Ethan have worked and lived, it might as well be across the country -- and it scares Ethan. So much so, that he acts like a dick, making it easier for Anna to cut the ties necessary to shack up with her boyfriend, even if he talks through classic movies. 

Untethered, lost, Ethan dives back into his work and takes on a case that's bigger than he can handle by himself. He calls Anna, both to borrow her car and see if she wants to go in on the case with him. She agrees, but remains distant. 

On its surface, this job should be a cake walk. So, of course, everything goes to shit, just not in the way Ethan could have anticipated. Maybe if he was younger . . . ah, but there's no good to come of pursuing that thought. Even once the case is completed, despite its unsatisfactory conclusion, it isn't really over. Their target still has one card up his sleeve. How will Ethan & Anna escape that final play, and can their friendship survive, even if they get out alive? 

Destroy All Monsters is the third book in the Reckless series from writer Ed Brubaker & artist Sean Phillips, with colors by Jacob Phillips, and it's another home run for this stellar creative team. Brubaker's writing feels effortless, as he continues to hone his craft to a razor sharpness. The pacing of the book is top-notch, allowing me to dwell on a page or a panel, even as the narrative urges me forward, turning pages to see what's next. The twists and feints evolve naturally from the characters and the setting, the seedy underbelly of 80s L.A., with none of it seeming forced. And the people (using the term characters just seems wrong) all feel fully realized, even when the limits of space only allows for a quick sketch. 

In particular, for those who've been following this series and already know Ethan and Anna, this third book offers the readership a wonderful insight into their personal history, as well as their relativistic present, providing a better, and fuller, understanding of these two friends. One feels for them, as their friendship is tested throughout this story, and the audience is left to wonder how their relationship will look, going forward. It is this -- the dynamic of Ethan and Anna's relationship -- that I found most fulfilling in my reading of Destroy All Monsters, even with the expected excellence of the plot. This rupture in their friendship is the core of the book, as their relationship is the core of this entire series, and Brubaker adds so much to that dynamic with this third installment of the Reckless series. 

Sean Phillips equals his collaborator with this book, as he has done for many years. Phillips's clean linework grounds these stories, and his clear storytelling means readers are never lost, even if they're unsure of where the story may be heading. He evokes 1980s L.A. -- from the buildings to the cars to the fashions -- allowing the audience to lose themselves within the story and enhancing the reading experience to a great degree. Like Brubaker, Phillips, with his economy and precision of linework, makes it look all too easy. It is not, but it's a testament to his skill that it comes across this way. What a wonderful synergy of creative talents. I suppose that's what comes of working together these past couple of decades. 

And Jacob Phillips, Sean's son, is no slouch himself. His colors are reminiscent of watercolors, adding another dimension to the story. Sometimes the coloring is representational, setting us directly on a sidewalk in a residential neighborhood, while other times the color choices feel abstract, to a degree, evoking an emotion or feeling rather than anything resembling photorealism. And yet, it all works brilliantly. This is one of the aspects of this team's creative output that allows it to stand apart from the rest of the comics on the shelves, and I, for one, am here for it. 

Destroy All Monsters, as with so much from this creative team, is a master class in comic book storytelling. Whenever a new book from Brubaker & Phillips arrives, I always place it on the top of my to-read pile. And when I close the covers, I am never disappointed. This latest endeavor, a series of self-contained graphic novels that combine to tell a broader narrative with Ethan and Anna, has been outstanding. I love the characters. I love the stories. And I love the format. I am excited to know there is a fourth book arriving relatively soon. I can only hope there will be many more after that. Regardless, I can't wait.

-chris

Vietnam Journal by Don Lomax, an important comic

Some of my earliest published writing were reviews of small press comics, for Independent Propaganda and then the Pulse.  During that time, I also submitted work to a fledgling, and now-defunct, site: graphicnovelreview(dot)com.  The main stipulation for their reviews were that they not go over 500 words.  It was a fun challenge, trying to get everything I wanted to say on the page while being economical with my words, and I was happy with the submission I crafted for Don Lomax's Vietnam Journal.  I never did hear back from them.  No big deal.  But, I did come across that piece in an old file folder a few days back and thought I would share--not just because I generally like what I wrote, but because Vietnam Journal is a great comic (#7 in my personal Top Ten all time comics--storylines edition).  Hope you enjoy.  And if you're looking for a great war comic, seek this book out, it's collected and available through Amazon.

Back in the World: a review of the graphic novel Vietnam Journal,

created by Don Lomax, published by Transfuzion publishing.

By C. M. Beckett

Written and illustrated by Don Lomax, Vietnam Journal is a brutally honest look at what it was like incountry during the Vietnam conflict.  Wishing to “ . . . counter the sophomoric, one-man-war approach to Vietnam” typified by the Rambo movies, Lomax opts in favor of diverse characters dealing with the horror of their reality.  In a genre that falls so easily into cliché – John Wayne, Sgt. Rock, et al. – Lomax sidesteps these deftly while telling stories focused on serious, and sometimes unsettling, issues. 

The first chapter, “The Field Jacket,” exemplifies this when Scott “Journal” Neithammer, a freelance news correspondent, relates the story of the tattered field jacket he wears to his new comrades.  He shares how one wearer avoided fatal injury from a homemade explosive while another’s mission was unexpectedly aborted.  In every instance, the owner believed his good fortune was a result of the jacket’s protective qualities.  When each of these soldiers left Vietnam – either due to a serious, or fatal, injury – the field jacket passed to another grunt until ultimately being laid at Journal’s feet.  With its supernatural pedigree, Journal sees it in the same light as its previous owners, a good luck charm.  In the end, however, the soldiers in Journal’s new company point out that the only luck that can be ascribed to the jacket is bad, since most who wore it became “believers.”  These soldiers, despite having just crossed from the threshold of boyhood, realize that bravado and superstition won’t help them survive.

Lomax’s art is not as polished as you might find in more mainstream comics, but there is a fluidity to his work reminiscent of Will Eisner or Stephen Bissette.  What Lomax’s art lacks in “beauty” is more than offset by his skilled use of the comic page’s unique strengths.  His backgrounds are fully realized, evoking the splendor and harshness of Vietnam, while splash pages are used sparingly, adding to their impact and allowing them to resonate long after one closes the book. 

Lomax is also one of a handful of creators able to use captions successfully.  Rather than reiterating what can be found in the pictures, he utilizes them to add to the narrative.  Lomax allows the images and words to mesh together in service to the story, elevating Vietnam Journal above the vast majority of graphic novels found on the shelves.

Like any good work of fiction, Vietnam Journal also educates its readers.  Not only does it inform its audience of those turbulent times – through the “Back in the World” feature, which includes excerpts from newspaper stories of the day – but the book also teaches readers about life.  With events continuing to spiral out of control in the Middle East, these stories are more relevant today than when initially produced twenty years ago.  Mr. Lomax presents an unfiltered view of what war is really like based on his own tour of duty in Vietnam.  These are important stories that should be shared so their lessons can be passed on to a new generation.

Love & Rockets, by Los Bros Hernandez

Spurred by the recent Previews episode from CGS, here are some thoughts on one of my all-time favorite comic series:  Love & Rockets.

Los Bros Hernandez--Jaime, Gilbert, along with Mario, at times--have crafted some of the most poignant, affecting, brilliant, and beautiful comics over their thirty-plus year careers. I didn't finally read L&R until the first giant omnibus came out, roughly ten years ago, collecting (to that point) Gilbert's Palomar stories. They. Are. Awesome. And, I would argue, the best way to introduce yourself to L&R. More soap operatic, telling the stories of myriad characters in the small, Mexican town of Palomar, Gilbert's early work in this series is more assured than his brother, Jaime's, whose earliest issues suffer a bit from strange anachronisms and a tendency to be wordy with his dialogue.

Which isn't to say the early Locas stories from Jaime are not enjoyable. He quickly finds his footing and launches into one of the most real friendships in all of comics, and, it could be argued, one of the best in all of literature. Hopey and Maggie fall in and out of love, struggle through hardships together, and apart, while continually moving forward, seeking answers about life and what it all means. (and if that sounds like hyperbole, there certainly is a pinch of that included, but, for the most part, I'd argue my description stands up)

The real strength of this series comes from its longevity. Jaime and Gilbert have taken each of their collections of characters and allowed them to grow old, to have families, to lose friends and loved ones, discover new friends, have adventures, feel pain and sorrow, and love and joy, and experience lives that feel genuine, feel real, feel lived in. And their age has not diluted their storytelling abilities on bit. One of the most heartfelt and heartbreaking moments came a few years ago, in Jaime's "Browntown," which was built on the stories that had come before. It was an amazing piece of comic storytelling and comic art, that could not have been done without the accumulation of stories, over the prior decades, that came before. It was an exclamation point, driven into readers' (or, at least, my own) heart(s), and it's one of those handful of comics stories that has stuck with me, since I read it.

But it's not just their storytelling. Jaime & Gilbert are two of the best cartoonists working today, and two of the best ever, in my opinion. Their ability to evoke emotion and replicate body language utilizing an economy of line is beyond impressive. This, to me, is some of the most beautiful artwork I've seen in comics. Really incredible.

Now, I know it can be daunting to start a book that has this much history (see: Cerebus). But Fantagraphics has a page that can help you find where to start reading, here.

And the collections they've done for Gilbert & Jaime's work are great--a good size, with a healthy collection of stories, at a good price. Well worth picking up, here. Or on Amazon or at In Stock Trades. Or, if you want, see if your local library can request them for you through their Interlibrary Loan department, which allows libraries to borrow items from other libraries, across the country.

These are, seriously, some of the best comics ever made. Do yourself the favor of seeking them out and reading them. Now.

-chris

A Fistful of Daredevil stories

Conceived and used with the permission of Matthew Constantine and Brad Gullickson, the original dorks.

Everyone has a “Top 5.”  But Brad and Matt, choosing to walk a different path, amended that to “A Fistful…” over at their blog, In the Mouth of Dorkness.  A film-centric blog where they also discuss comics and books and TV, these two regularly share their top 5, ranging from “Heroic Kids” to “Spies” to “Summer Movies” to “Punches” to all things in between.  Always fun, often insightful, and something I hope to regularly pilfer for Warrior27.  As they say:  If you’re going to steal, steal from those you know relatively well, who will not sue you.

And with the new Daredevil series from Netflix hitting soon, I thought it appropriate to look at some of Hornhead's seminal comic stories.  

5.          Daredevil #191 by Frank Miller & Terry Austin



The final issue of Frank Miller’s first run on Daredevil – the run that put Miller on the map and made Daredevil relevant again (if, for argument’s sake, he’d been truly relevant before).  Having finally come to terms with the fact that Elektra, his one true love, is dead, Matt Murdock visits her killer, Bullseye.  Paralyzed, in a hospital bed, unable to defend himself, Bullseye is forced to play a game of Russian Roulette with Daredevil, as DD ruminates on the hell his life has become, each click of an empty chamber moving them closer to a final, fatal end.  It’s a powerful issue – the issue that stands out most, to me, from Miller’s seminal run, even with Elektra’s death in #181 – made all the more significant with Miller returning to full pencils and inked by Terry Austin rather than Klaus Janson, whose work graced the rest of Miller’s run.  Austin’s inks lend a weight and atmosphere to this story that might have been lost in the more graceful brushstrokes of Janson.  It is an intense story that melds art and narrative wonderfully, all happening in a darkened hospital room with a paralyzed villain (and, one could argue, a mentally paralyzed hero), wherein no “action” actually occurs.  Great issue.

4.          Daredevil: Wake Up by Brian Michael Bendis & David Mack



Issues 16-19 of the Marvel Knights reboot, this was the debut of Bendis writing the character that propelled him to the “top of the heap.”  This four-part story follows a young boy, the son of a D-list villain, Leap-Frog, and examines how he deals with the trauma of watching his dad beaten by Daredevil on TV.  It’s a heartbreaking tale, made more poignant by the lush artwork of Mack, whose mixed media art is always beautiful.  With spot work from Joe Quesada – delineating the action fantasies of the young boy – this story has it all:  pathos, superheroes, supervillains, mystery, action, and an ending that will tug at your heartstrings. 

3.          Daredevil goes to Hell (roughly issues 278-282 of the original series) by Ann Nocenti, John Romita Jr., and Al Williamson



I was introduced to Daredevil through the Nocenti/JRJr/Williamson run, which began a bit before issue 250 of the original series.  Throughout this run, Mephisto and his creation, Blackheart, were ever present on the fringes of Daredevil’s world, occasionally becoming directly involved with ol’ Hornhead.  Eventually, though, Daredevil realizes he must take the fight to Mephisto, and he enters hell to do battle with the dark lord of that realm.  This story is at times deep and thoughtful, and at others quirky and whimsical, a hallmark of Nocenti’s writing style.  She did things, narratively within a comic, a decade or more before other prominent writers would – and it is fantastic.  Battling through hordes of demons, Daredevil is relentless and unforgiving, eventually coming to the end of his rope (a theme that reverberates throughout DD’s history as a character).  But, at the point where all seems lost, Daredevil has a revelation – in order for there to be a fight, or a battle, there must be two sides contending with one another.  If you stop fighting…the fight is over. 
Sure, that’s a hokey idea, and not one that would help you in real life.  But this isn’t real life, this is comics, and Nocenti, et al. understand this very well.  One of my favorite stories ever.

2.          Daredevil: Love & War by Frank Miller & Bill Sienkiewicz



Daredevil versus the Kingpin, with Vanessa Fisk, the Kingpin’s wife, stuck in the middle.  With some of the most beautiful art to grace a comic, this short story also includes one of the most heartbreaking scenes I’ve read in a comic, and it relates to the dashed hopes of the Kingpin – no simple feat.  Sienkiewicz brings his signature style to bear, veering into the impressionistic at times, particularly with the Kingpin, in a way that better defines characters rather than muddling the narrative.  Published in 1986, arguably Miller’s peak, this is one that has stuck with me for a long time.

1.          Daredevil: Born Again by Frank Miller & David Mazzucchellli



My favorite superhero story of all time, bar none.  In his first run, Miller helped pull Daredevil out of the camp of previous decades into a grittier, if still whimsical, present of 1979.  With Born Again, Miller, along with Mazzucchelli, dragged DD into the gutters of Hell’s Kitchen and left the whimsy behind.  A classic story of a hero brought low by those who love him and left for dead, only to extricate himself and return to rediscover his purpose.  At its core, this certainly is an old story.  But in its telling, Miller & Mazzucchelli transcend the comic medium with a tour-de-force collaboration nearly unmatched in “cape comics,” while providing a narrative that could rest its spine next to Chandler and Hammett.  Sure, I’m biased, but it’s just that good.  And the art by Mazzucchelli is some of the most beautiful, traditional linework to be found in a comic, ever.  His art is uncluttered, elegant in a way that lends itself well to Daredevil’s martial arts training, while infused with a cartoonish approach that enhances the story in subtle ways.  I love this book and re-read it on a regular basis.  If you need one Daredevil story to familiarize yourself with the character, this is the one.

-chris

FRONTIER from Youth in Decline

I believe I discovered Frontier, the quarterly art and comics monograph series from Youth in Decline, while listening to the podcast Comic Books are Burning in Hell.  I got the initial offering for this new series and it didn’t really grab me.  I was expecting a short narrative comic, but instead it was more a collection of artwork by Russian illustrator, Uno Moralez.  Not that it wasn’t worthwhile, I was just expecting more comics.  So, the series fell off my radar. 

Until I saw that Emily Carroll  recently did an issue (it should be noted that the conceit around the series is that each quarterly issue features a different artist).  I recently read Carroll’s collection, Through the Woods, and was blown away by that.  So, I decided to get her issue of Frontier along with the previous issue, number 5, from Sam Alden.  Am I glad I went back to this well. 

Alden’s offering is an excised piece from his longer work, Hollow.  It’s a haunting tale revolving around older siblings looking back at their life and working to exorcise the demon that haunted, and still haunts, them – a demon embodied as a whirlpool threatening to suck them beneath the water, if they get too close.  There are no easy answers in this short narrative – How real is this horror?  What does the whirlpool mean?  How come it still haunts them, even at this age? – and I like that, a lot.  Discovering that there is more to this story also has me excited.  Now I need to track down Hollow. 

Now, if Alden’s issue was fantastic (which it was), then Carroll’s issue of Frontier, with a story entitled “Ann by the Bed,” is amazing!  Carroll knows what she is doing and is masterful at creating atmosphere in her comics that is unsurpassed by anyone working today – and possibly very, very few who have worked in the medium throughout its many decades.  Her story sucked me in and latched onto my brain with a vigor I don’t often experience when reading comics.  And that final page had me worried I’d be visited by nightmares after I shut out the light (that is no hyperbole, but thankfully I slept soundly).  Carroll is smart enough to understand that it’s not the gore or the surprises that will stick with readers of a horror comic, but the pervasive sense of something bad happening, or about to happen, and she deftly drags you deeper into each of her stories until it wraps itself around you and pulls you under.  Carroll’s comics are some of the best I have read in a long time.

And, getting back to the topic at hand, Youth in Decline has just announced subscriptions for next year’s Frontier series, with books from Jillian Tamaki, Anna Deflorian, Becca Tobin, and Michael DeForge forthcoming.  That is one helluva lineup.  If you like cool comics, you need to get on this now.  Trust me, you won’t be disappointed.

MS. MARVEL volume 1: No Normal

Ms. Marvel volume 1: No Normal by G. Willow Wilson and Adrian Alphona, published by Marvel Comics.  

Marvel Comics made headlines when they announced last year. that a new series would be debuting with a young, female Muslim as the lead character.  First:  a female-led superhero book?  A rarity.  But second:  a Muslim character in the lead?  Unheard of in the superhero genre.  This was a big deal, and (unless you were one of the many close-minded, vociferous, “fans” of the medium online) something for which Marvel deserved recognition.  Shepherded by editor Steve Wacker, it was definitely more important for this book to be really good, right out of the gate, than the typical superhero launch – not just in terms of the genre of superheroes, but also in terms of how the Muslim characters were handled.  Marvel signed G. Willow Wilson, author of prose and comics who also happens to be female and Muslim, to write the series, while artist Adrian Alphona, co-creator of the Runaways with Brian K. Vaughan, to do the art.  This was an extremely intelligent first step.  But, the book still needed to be good. 

Well, it is.  The first volume of the new Ms. Marvel introduces Kamala Khan, a sixteen-year-old girl living and going to high school in Jersey City.  With an older brother, focused on his religious studies, and parents who are devout Muslims that only wish to protect their children from the loose mores of America, Kamala finds herself in an endless struggle to please her parents while also wishing to fit in and experience life as a teenager with her friends and classmates.  This internal struggle, above all else, is what defines this new series, and it works wonderfully.  While personally interested in the specificity of this family and their Muslim traditions, all of which feels natural and genuine in a manner unreached in other books with similar scenarios, it was the universality of these relationships that I admired most.  Teenagers are always in conflict with their parents, in one degree or another, and, despite the distinct background of Kamala, I can easily imagine teenagers and other readers being able to relate to her “civilian” story.  And, in that way, this series hearkens back to Marvel’s signature hero, Spider-Man, in its dichotomy between the hero and the person. 

Which is not to say there isn’t drama or action in this series.  There is.  Kamala, overcome by a strange fog as she wanders away from her classmates’ party, discovers she now has shape-shifting abilities – she can grow to twice her size, increase the girth of her fist, change how she looks, shrink down to the size of a cockroach – and she is freaked out.  But, in the meantime, one of her classmates, drunk and trying to fight off her boyfriend, falls into the lake.  Kamala, in the form of the original, blond Ms. Marvel, pulls her from the water and saves her life.  But she must run off before changing back to herself – because she hasn’t yet fully digested what has happened to her, nor is she yet able to control her powers.  And, once she returns home, sneaking back in her bedroom window, Kamala is discovered by her parents and grounded.  It even feels like something out of an old Spider-Man comic! 

From here, Kamala must learn how to control her powers while she decides what to do with them.  She quickly comes to the idea that she must use her abilities to help people in their neighborhood.  Which spurs her to try and stop a robbery at the local quickie mart, the Circle Q, where her best friend, Bruno, works.  This does not end well for Kamala, as a gunshot rings out on the final page of that particular issue – that page, and those leading up to it, are a master class of dramatic writing, building tension, sidestepping the danger, only to have it rear its head in a way that is both surprising and inevitable, truly impressive work there.  The way Wilson writes Kamala out of this corner is equally impressive, and from here we watch as she learns not only to accept her own identity as a hero (eventually switching from morphing into the idealized, blond iteration of Ms. Marvel to helping others as herself, but with a costume more in line with a typical teenage girl), but also learns how to be a hero.  It’s like fusing on Bruce Wayne’s education in “Year One” with the previously mentioned Spider-Man foundation, and it works incredibly well.  Wilson infuses the stories with humor and drama, creating stories that engage and entertain in equal measure.  This is one of the best new superhero books I’ve read in a long time. 

And equal billing must go to the artist, Adrian Alphona.  His art feels like it would be more comfortable in a Top Shelf book rather than a Marvel book, but it works well with the story being told by Wilson.  Cartoony without feeling slapstick, he grafts a manga-esque feel onto the art without turning toward the expected tropes of that medium.  There are moments where figures have more cartoonish faces, dependent upon the scene, and there is a flow and ease to the body language that is commendable.  Nothing feels stiff under Alphona’s pen, and it heightens the truthfulness of the story, lending a naturalness to the images that, I feel, allows readers to better relate to the story.  Sometimes, when an artist has a very rigid, very precise style, it can be off-putting, a glaring reminder that what you’re reading is a proximity of what’s outside your world, but a far more strict representation, which, for me, can pull me right out of the narrative.  Alphona hits just the right balance, infusing the action scenes with energy and dynamism, while offsetting “civilian” scenes with a laid back feeling.  And, just for bonus points, there are numerous jokes hidden in the background – on cereal boxes (GM-Os) or store signs or book covers – that only add to the enjoyment of this book. 

If you haven’t already, you should definitely read Ms. Marvel: No Normal.  It’s fun and full of drama – a classic comic book series told with a contemporary sensibility – and it is well worth your time. 

-chris 

SIN TITULO by Cameron Stewart

Cameron Stewart is a fantastic artist.  He came out of nowhere, for me, when he worked with Grant Morrison on Sea Guy.  I loved his clean style and ability to convey emotions through a limited amount of lines.  Seriously, great work.

So, when I discovered he was doing a webcomic, titled SIN TITULO, I checked it out.  Spurred by the discovery by the main character, Alex MacKay, of his grandfather's death a month earlier, Sin Titulo is a maze of realities that weave in and out of one another, dragging readers down myriad rabbit holes with little explanation.  With the updates consisting of single, eight-panel pages, each time, Stewart had to reintroduced and then punctuate each page with a cliffhanger or a revelation or a new mystery.  And he managed that with great facility.

Dark Horse collected the web series into a nice hardcover, which is how I finished reading the story, as I am a poor one to keep up with online comics.  The biggest question I had, with this story that had dream sequences that fed into the memories of another, seemingly random, character, which wove into the story of MacKay's grandfather and an orderly from the retirement home where his grandfather lived out the rest of his life, was whether Stewart could stick the ending.

Rest assured, he did.

And as impressive as Stewart's art is, I was more impressed with his writing in this book.  The pace of the book, teasing out the various narrative threads that appear to have tenuous connections, at best, with one another, was masterful.  He offered the audience just enough to entice them without giving away too much.  And the way he manipulated not just the ideas and the scenes, but the words with which he explained things, was wonderful - a real joy to read and experience.

Sin Titulo is a great book, and if you are a fan of comics, you should definitely check it out.  I don't know how you could be disappointed.

chris

CELEBRATED SUMMER by Charles Forsman

For one so young, and so early in his comic making career, Charles Forsman is a highly confident and assured cartoonist.  He allows the images to tell the story, lingering on small points in the narrative, infusing his stories with a pace that adds to their emotional depth and tone.  He did this with The End of the Fucking World (TEOTFW), and he does it again with Celebrated Summer, from Fantagraphics Books.

A graphic "novella," Celebrated Summer is a reminiscence on that final summer of childhood between two close friends.  We follow them as they drive the highway, heading for the boardwalk and the ocean, in a last attempt to retain that innocence of their youth.

Their interactions feel genuine - unsentimental in a way that feels true to that state of being after you've finished high school and must consider what comes next.  The friends argue, share memories, and get lost, all rites of passage that anyone reading this book have experienced, and in this way, Forsman grounds his characters while allowing his audience to easily identify with them.  It's a fine line, and he walks it deftly.

With deceptively simple lines, Forsman also manages to create characters who, again, feel real.  I am certain there are some who look at his work and think of it as too simplistic (I've heard that criticism directly), but they are looking at it through a "wrong" lens, in my opinion.  He manages to evoke subtlety and pathos with a minimal amount of lines, and does it in a way that belies his youth.

If you've not checked out Forsman's work before, this would be a great place to start.  Then, if you appreciate this, as I think many fans of smart comics would, then you should check out TEOTFW, also from Fantagraphics.  You won't be disappointed.

chris

Back Matter #4 - Nabiel Kanan + Darren Aronofsky's Book of Ants

With the “Back Matter” series of posts, I am reprinting my initial writings on comics from roughly 2006.  A more detailed explanation can be found here. 

-Thanks

BACK MATTER #4

            I first encountered Nabiel Kanan’s work in issue #12 of Negative Burn and was immediately taken by his stark, clean artwork and inventive storytelling.  This 8-page short consisted of four double-page spreads and involved a conversation between two high school friends.  What stayed with me was the fact that Kanan did not use any panel borders but still had the characters “move” over the continuous background.  The conversation flowed through multiple images of the characters across the dark landscape.  Since first encountering it here, I have only seen a similar technique incorporated by Eduardo Risso in his and Brian Azzarello’s series 100 Bullets.  It worked amazingly well and placed Kanan on my list of artists to watch.

            In The Birthday Riots readers are introduced to Max Collins, a 42-year-old Englishman who appears to have it all.  A senior member of the campaign team for London mayoral candidate Thom Conran, Max owns a nice house in the country, is married to a beautiful wife, and is the father of two healthy kids, Natalie and Owen.  With the election only weeks away it is an exciting time for Collins.  On the cusp of what could possibly be his greatest professional achievement, there seems to be nothing that could stop them now.  But of course, that’s what life is all about – the obstacles we don’t see coming, often made worse by the fact that they should have been anticipated before turning into a steamroller. 

            The United Kingdom is embroiled in a heated debate over the country’s Land Laws Bill, which prohibits nomadic and homeless people from occupying private or public land.  Leading the news on a daily basis, it is a topic at the forefront of many people’s minds and some in Conran’s campaign feel it is an issue they need to address.  But it is also a terribly controversial subject, one where emotions run high on both sides.  Collins realizes this will be a very divisive issue and advises Conran to ignore it.  He explains that the Land Laws Bill is a piece of national legislation and not one the mayor of London would have any power to change.  Instead, he feels they should focus on issues that affect Londoners specifically, like public transport.  Collins argues rightly that Londoners are fed up with the gridlock and worried about the unclean air they are breathing.  He believes if Conran runs on a pledge to improve the public transportation system of London he can win the election.  Conran likes the idea and runs with it.

            At home, Natalie is about to turn fifteen and going through one of those transitional periods that teenagers experience.  The Land Laws Bill targets the gypsy population roaming Britain’s countryside.  Having no permanent home and often finding themselves being evicted by the local constabulary if they do settle in one place for too long, many of the kids in these gypsy caravans end up attending multiple schools.  One of these kids happens to be a classmate of Natalie’s and she, unlike the vast majority of Londoners, is able to put a personal face to this cause.  Raised to be politically aware, Natalie is able to see this law for the iniquity it is and wants to do something about it.  This obviously leads to a number of heated arguments with her father who, when telling her flatly that she will not be joining any protest rallies, is only trying to keep his daughter out of harm’s way.  But, armed with the righteousness born of youth, she is only able to see her father as apathetic and contributing to the problem if he is not willing to do something.  Compounding Natalie’s feelings of disappointment with her Dad is the fact that ten years ago, while still living in the city, he began building her a treehouse in their old backyard.  He jokingly promised her that although it might take some time he would definitely have it done by her fifteenth birthday – a day now fast approaching.  Despite being a teenager there is still a part of her that wants to believe her father did not make that promise in vain.  A few times she starts to ask him about it, but stops herself short, afraid to burst that tiny bubble of hope she has held onto since she was five.     With only days left the campaign is in full swing and Max is slowly coming to the realization that his job has taken over his life, propelling him forward while everything that was important to him has fallen by the wayside.  A chance encounter with a small number of homeless people, coupled with the questioning from his daughter, sends Collins back to his roots in a vain attempt to find the ideals he left behind.  Walking the halls of the London College of Social Sciences, where Conran found him ten years earlier, Collins finds himself awash with memories.  Flashes of the maverick political activist he once was open Max’s eyes for the first time in years.  The man he used to be, the man his daughter would like him to be, would never have taken the easy road.  The old Max Collins would have fought for those that needed it most, like the gypsies and the homeless who need that help now.  Struck by this revelation Max runs to the office intent on getting the Land Laws Bill onto the mayoral candidate’s platform, hoping he is not too late to rediscover the man flashing through his memories.  But retrieving that piece of our soul that has been lost is never an easy thing to do.

            Kanan’s stories are subtle and sublime.  He eschews melodrama and wild narratives for tales about real characters experiencing real emotions, and this allows his audience to relate strongly with his stories.  Kanan’s works compare favorably to the stories from Los Bros Hernandez in Love & Rockets.  Like the “Locas” and “Palomar” tales, Kanan mines everyday life for the little treasures and silent conflicts encountered every day.  Kanan wants his readers to know these characters, to care about them, and he utilizes dialogue expertly to reveal who these people are and how they feel about one another.  Like all good writers he manages to make all of the characters, even those who play a minor role, unique.  While he lures his audience into caring about these people on the page, Kanan is also teasing out the narrative, slowly moving it along as things work out at their own pace.  His use of flashback, repeating panels, and other techniques uniquely suited to comics is always well done, conveying the emotions of the story while delving into the characters’ psyches.  And in The Birthday Riots Kanan leads his protagonist from the shallow end of the pool across to the deep end where he must learn to swim or suffer the consequences.  But can Max learn in time, or is it already too late? 

            At first glance, Kanan’s art style seems simple and effortless, almost cartoon-like.  But upon reflection one comes away with a better appreciation of the work that must go into his bare-bones style.  Kanan’s economy of line is wonderful – an artful bit of shading here, the slightest hint of a raised eyebrow there – and it brings an expressiveness to his art that is lost in the overly-delineated work often found in comics today.  One sequence in particular from The Birthday Riots stands out for me.  Near the end of the book Max finds himself on the edge of a demonstration against the Land Laws Bill.  Pausing for a second he is suddenly jarred from his stupor as he spies his daughter in the throng.  She has been missing for a few days and he reaches out to her hesitantly, a look of surprise obvious on his face.  The next two panels continue to focus on Collins, framing him from his chest up just as in the initial panel of surprise.  But, in the second panel the reader can see Max’s alarm fading and realizes that he is mulling over what his next step should be.  The final panel has Max remaining silent as he drops his arm and the barest hint of a smile starts to cross his face.  Kanan's ability is such – and the changes so subtle – that even studying the panels closely a reader is hardly able to see what is different in Max’s facial expression from one image to the next despite the fact that our brains easily register the changing emotions on Max’s face.  Kanan’s art is expressive and nuanced, which easily allows the audience into his world while serving the story beautifully.  This is a great book and I would recommend you seek it out as well as other stories by Nabiel Kanan.

            Back in the vault this time we have The Book of Ants from Artisan Entertainment.  Written by Darren Aronofsky with art from Edward Ross Flynn, this is a companion piece to Aronofsky’s first film PI, which won the Directing Award at the 1998 Sundance Film Festival.  Though not a straight adaptation – how could 28 pages fully encompass a 90-minute feature – it still manages to give us the story of mathematician Maximilian Cohen within these restricted confines.  In fact, the way Aronofsky is able to compact and merge scenes, while also expanding a part that gives us more insight into Max’s psyche, is masterful.  Reading this comic in conjunction with a viewing of PI will give the fan/reader a much better understanding of Cohen’s world. 

            The artist that Aronofsky found through a usenet posting, Edward Ross Flynn, is a graphic designer and illustrator who has done work for The Village Voice, Art & Politics Magazine, along with a number of underground magazines.  His work is not as polished as one might find in most comics, but a closer examination of Flynn’s scratchboard illustrations allows for a better appreciation of his technique and interpretive skills.  In PI, Max Cohen is a mathematician obsessed with finding the numerical pattern hidden within the stock market.  His mind is completely focused on this task and he is always running new hypotheses and measured data over and over in his mind.  It is never-ending and Flynn is able to get this across through his artwork.  His basic style, one rife with multiple cross-hatchings and scratches that lend weight and depth to the images, imbues the page with a sense of frenetic activity, mirroring the protagonist’s psyche.  Flynn also artfully utilizes long shots with exaggerated perspective, distancing the main character from the reader and allowing the audience to recognize that Cohen is all alone in his struggle.  Cohen’s quest requires such a specialized perspective and background that it becomes a singular one, which he is unable to share with others.

            I often find myself wishing I could go back and read books like this at a point in my life before I had seen the movie.  Would I enjoy this comic on its own merits?  Does the story make sense if I am without the extensive background afforded watching the movie, or would I be lost?  Of course, these are foolish notions and ones not worth pondering overly much.  The fact is, PI the Movie is an incredible film and The Book of Ants is an entertaining comic that will spark your brain.  And if you are able to find copies of both, viewing/reading them together will enhance the experience that much more.

   

Pompeii by Frank Santoro - Book of the year

This, for me, was the comic of the year.  Published by Picturebox, which will be shuttering its doors at the end of this month and is currently holding a 50% off everything sale (codeword: sale), this serves well as a culmination of a publishing collaboration between Santoro and Dan Nadel, who runs PBox.  (though one can hope they will work together at some point in the future, sooner rather than later, and yes, I am well aware they are both at TCJ.com)

My first introduction to Santoro's work was Cold Heat - Nadel gave me the first four issues, along with the first couple 1-800-Mice, at MoCCa fest 2007, when I was just starting out as a "comics journalist" - and, upon my first glance through the comics, I was nonplussed by the art.  When I finally read those comics, though, I discovered my first assumption was completely and utterly wrong.  This was an engaging book that spoke directly to me, and I had to have more.  Pompeii is no different.  

Santoro works in a very "simplistic" style, choosing not to define his characters with incessant cross-hatching or photoshopped color effects.  Instead, he focuses on the core of his characters, using the bare minimum of lines to delineate his images.  And with Pompeii he went even further, utilizing thin pencil lines with occasional ink wash, as well as keeping in some of the initial linework that can act as a shadow of movement for a given figure.  This spare use of lines and dearth of detail imbues the story with a rough quality that propels readers through the story and reflects the mood of a given scene, while also reaffirming one of the themes of the book - that of artists and their relationships with their artistic creations. 

Pompeii also tackles the broad theme of love, offering varying interpretations of that word, and Santoro manages to introduce the complexity of such a topic through these various relationships, showcasing myriad facets of what we call love through the interactions of the characters.  Under the pencil and brush of Santoro, we get very real, and some very tender, moments that all too often are ignored in popular entertainment, whether that be comics or books, television or film, and it elevates Pompeii to a wholly different level, to my mind.  

Dash Shaw made a very astute observation about Santoro's work in Pompeii.  He noted that "[t]he characters' faces are all 100% real and expressive in a way that's absent in nearly every other comic I've ever read.  Most cartoon characters' faces are made out of cardboard.  The people in Pompeii actually seem to have a soul behind their eyes."  I had forgotten about this quote until I finally got a chance to read the book.  And halfway through, I realized I was noticing a similar thing and remembered Shaw's remark.  He nails one of the things that speaks to me in Santoro's art - there is a soul behind his characters' eyes, and it is that, among so many other aspects of his work, that really tugs at my heart when I read a Frank Santoro comic.  Pompeii is no different.  COMIC OF THE YEAR, in my humble opinion.  Either get it through Copacetic Comics, where you can get a copy of Santoro's Blast Furnace Funnies as well, or go to Picturebox and get it for half off.  You will not be disappointed.

- chris