CAKE 2013: Indie Groo is also pretty great

As happens at every comics convention I attend, I try to get as many contributions to my Groo sketchbook as possible, and this year's CAKE was no exception. Here are the awesome pictures that a bunch of talented people drew for me:



Chuck Forsman makes Groo look worried.



Josh Simmons contributed a very Josh Simmons-style freakout Groo.



Dan Zettwoch adds his signature bulging eyeballs and flames to our favorite mendicant.



Michael DeForge turned in this cute super-deformed Groo.



Joseph Remnant gives Groo some nervous sweatiness.



Box Brown also makes Groo cute. Somebody bumped him from behind while he was sketching, causing him to leave some handprints on the page, so he turned those into a snake and a signature.



Pranas T. Naujokaitis gives Groo a nice cartoony style, and a sentimental tattoo.



Kevin Huizenga contributed what could be Glenn Ganges doing some Groo cosplay.



Jason Shiga drew Groo in his signature simple style, but he still got the nose right, and he even added in a good Rufferto!



Aaron Renier depicted Groo experiencing every dog owners frustration.



Noah Van Sciver contributes this dismayed Groo.



And Ezra Claytan Daniels provides a pretty realistic Conan-style version of Groo, along with a glimpse of his backside.

Nursery Rhyme Comics: It's what it says on the tin

Nursery Rhyme Comics
Edited by Chris Duffy

As one would expect, this is pretty much a collection of straight comics versions of well-known nursery rhymes (and a few obscure ones), so rather than trying to make any sweeping statements covering such a diverse mix of talent, here is one sentence (or sentence fragment) for each entry:

"Hey, Diddle Diddle", by Nick Abadzis: This is mostly a straight illustration job, rather than any sort of attempt to wrap a story around the nonsensical words, but it handles the depictions of stuff like a jumping cow and a dog having a fit of laughter quite well; nothing mind-blowing, but still pretty pleasant.

"Hot Cross Buns", by Andrew Arnold: A simple one-pager, with a bit of a surprise at the end regarding a narrating pigeon.

"The Grand Old Duke of York", by Kate Beaton: This fits Beaton's usual historical milieu, with the crazy duke riding on his men's shoulders and ordering them about; it's pretty funny.

"There Was a Little Girl", by Vera Brosgol: Brosgol's little girl is cute and believable, whether she's good or horrid.

"Three Little Kittens", by Nick Bruel: This one is pretty literal, but it's funny to see the kittens' pie-covered mittens at the end.

"Pop Goes the Weasel", by Scott Campbell: Campbell amusingly highlights the goofy randomness of this rhyme by treating the weasel as a chaos-causing agent, suddenly scattering the subjects of each of the various verses whenever it's time for his preferred action.

"Sing a Song of Sixpence", by Lilli Carre: This one is kind of surreal, with elongated characters and a stolen nose, and also an amusingly high stack of toast slices.

"There Was a Crooked Man", by Roz Chast: Chast turns in one of the more crooked men (along with mile, sixpence, stile, cat, mouse, and house) that I've ever seen, but he sure doesn't seem to mind.

"Old King Cole", by JP Coovert: This king is a lion heading up a band consisting of a hippo, a monkey, and a giraffe, which is pretty great, a rockin' jungle dance scene.

"Old Mother Hubbard", by Jordan Crane: There are a lot more verses in this version of the poem than I was aware of, but Crane makes them really fun, turning the dog into a pretty great cartoon visual.

"If All the Seas Were One Sea", by Rebecca Dart: This is one of the more impressive illustration jobs in the book, a beautifully-colored depiction of a giant man standing atop a planet, an enjoyably exaggerated literalization of the poem.

"The Queen of Hearts", by Eleanor Davis: There's lots of extra detail and word balloon dialogue in this one, turning the story into a tale of a people's hero striking at the crown, all in a neat, Nancy-ish style.

"Cindereller", by Vanessa Davis: I always thought this was just "Cinderella, dressed in yella'", but pronunciation aside, Davis illustrates it quite ably, even the snake-kissing.

"As I Was Going to St. Ives", by Theo Ellsworth: While there was really only one guy going to St. Ives, the opportunity for Ellsworth to illustrate a lively explosion of sacks, cats, and kittens is not to be missed.

"Girls and Boys, Come Out to Play", by Jules Feiffer: Old-school marker art of a bunch of kids playing, nicely laid out to act out the words of the poem across a double page spread.

"Little Boy Blue", by Bob Flynn: A cutely cartoony enactment of the poem, although the antics the animals get up to while Boy Blue is sleeping are pretty funny.

"Tweedledum and Tweedledee", by Matt Forsythe: I like this depiction of the titular pair, with them seeming more like Napoleonic generals than rotund overgrown children, and the resolution to their "battle" is nicely understated.

"The North Wind Doth Blow", by Alexis Frederick-Frost: Pretty standard stuff here, with a robin being seeking shelter from the wind, and that's about it.

"Pussycat, Pussycat, Where Have You Been?", by Ben Hatke: A fun interpretation of this poem as a conversation between two nicely-realized cats, one of whom is revealed to be a definite boaster.

"Humpty Dumpty", by Gilbert Hernandez: I like the surreality of this one, with its standalone pink wall and hobby horses, plus there's kind of a twist ending, of a less gruesome sort than this poem usually leads to.

"Jack and Jill", by Jaime Hernandez: Jaime's ultra-cartoony style is always nice, and I love his depiction of the large lady who patches up the kid's head.

"There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe", by Lucy Knisley: While the interpretation of "whipped them all soundly" is a bit of a stretch, reimagining this one as a story about a rock-and-roll day care is pretty fun.

"London Bridge is Falling Down", by David Macaulay: Lots more verses than are usually recited here, depicted in tall, narrow panels, each showing London Bridge either collapsing or being rebuilt with various materials; kinda weird.

"Little Miss Muffet", by Mark Martin: Pretty basic, although depicting the spider as a sort of shabby lothario is pretty funny, as is Miss Muffet's last-panel freakout.

"The Donkey", by Patrick McDonnell: If you're going to have somebody draw a donkey playing a saxophone, Patrick McDonnell is your man.

"Solomon Grundy", by Mike Mignola: This is exactly the rhyme you would expect Mignola to illustrate, and he makes it creepy and ominous, turning the character into a Pinocchio-like figure and suggesting much in between the panels.

"Rub-a-Dub-Dub", by Tony Millionaire: While there's not a lot to work with in this short poem, Tony Millionaire manages to make it extra weird and lively.

"Rock-a-Bye Baby", by Tao Nyeu: While the illustration style is simple (and neon-shaded), the depiction of the not-exactly-helpless baby here is pretty great.

"For Want of a Nail", by George O’Connor: Pretty simple and literal, but the gradual zoom out from the initial panel depicting a nail is nice.

"Hush, Little Baby", by Mo Oh: This might be the highlight of the entire book, turning the poem/song into a call-and-response between a father and his young, less-than-impressed daughter, with panels snaking organically across the pages, the adorable characters interacting with the objects of their summoned imagination wonderfully.

"Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater", by Eric Orchard: Maybe it's just familiarity, but the first verse of this poem seems to work better than the second one (or maybe it's just distaste at the idea of Peter Peter Pumpkin Eater having two wives), and Orchard's goofy pumpkin on wheels would have been a preferable image to end on, if you ask me.

"'Croak', Said the Toad", by Laura Park: I like Park's versions of the toad's (and his frog acquaintance's) meals, fancily prepared dishes made out of slugs and worms.

"This Little Piggy", by Cyril Pedrosa: Pedrosa turns this one into a series of strips about the travails of a wolf family and the multiple pigs they prey upon, all depicted in a gorgeously drawn forest with a funny twist of an ending.

Lark Pien: I hadn't heard this one before, and it really doesn't make any sense, but I do like Pien's cute artwork, with its anthropomorphic nuts, comely maiden, and bizarre ending.

"The Lion and the Unicorn", by Aaron Renier: This poem makes little sense, but Renier's fairly literal illustration of it is lush, lively, and beautifully colored.

"One, Two, Buckle My Shoe", by Dave Roman: Roman turns this simple collection of words into a story about a mad scientist and his numbered clones, making for a cute, hilarious romp.

"Yon Yonson", by Marc Rosenthal: This is apparently one of those never-ending rhymes, which Rosenthal turns into a crazed attack on an innocent pedestrian by the title character.

"Hector Protector", by Stan Sakai: I don't know this poem at all, but I like the way Sakai fleshes it out through word balloons filled with sequential imagery, a sort of neat, multi-level story.

"Three Blind Mice", by Richard Sala: Pretty simple and literal, but Sala makes it work with minimalistic flair.

"Wee Willie Winkie", by Mark Siegel: A great book-closing strip, turning the title character into a sort of Sandman who coats children in golden slumber-stuff.

"Jack Be Nimble", by James Sturm: A hilarious indictment of the reader by the title character, who can't believe anyone would encourage him to do something so dangerous (again).

"Georgie Porgie", by Raina Telgemeier: As cute as you would expect, but setting the action at a modern birthday party and making Georgie upset girls by kissing them and getting their faces messy, then run away while being pelted with food by the other boys doesn't make for the most satisfying plot, not that it really matters.

"The Owl and the Pussycat", by Craig Thompson: This one is gorgeous, with pages full of densely-detailed, beautifully-colored imagery, and it's tons of fun to read out loud too.

"There Was an Old Woman Tossed Up in a Basket", by Richard Thompson: As good as one would expect from Thompson, with a silly contraption to fire a lady up in the air on the first page, leading to beautiful watercolors as she sweeps the night sky clean on the second.

"Mary Had a Little Lamb", by Sara Varon: Varon's art isn't terrible or anything, but it's somewhat less appealing than most of what's in the book, just rabbit-people acting out the basic story.

"Little Bo Peep", by Jen Wang: Another contender for best art in the book, two beautifully composed and colored pages that interpret the poem as a young woman trying to fall asleep, and then entering a lovely, sheepy dreamscape.

"Baa-Baa, Black Sheep", by Drew Weing: A nicely cartoony take on the poem that turns it into a cute story about a sheep finding a friend.

"The Itsy Bitsy Spider", by Gahan Wilson: Old-school quirkiness, with the spider trying to drag several pieces of luggage up the waterspout.

"Pat-a-Cake", by Gene Luen Yang: A fun sci-fi version of the poem starring an alien family, because why not?

"Hickory Dickory Dock", by Stephanie Yue: A cute mouse runs up a clock tower and rings the bell, which, given the lack of material to work with, works pretty well.

Now, adult analysis and appreciation is all well and good, but nursery rhymes are directed toward children first and foremost. How well does the volume work for its target audience? Well, a photo says more than any number of words can:



Nursery Rhyme Comics comes out on October 11, 2011 from First Second.

The Unsinkable Walker Bean: He certainly is

The Unsinkable Walker Bean
By Aaron Renier

If one were to judge by the cover, this book would appear to be a heroic adventure starring a brave boy on the high seas, but the interior tells a different story, at least regarding the eponymous young man’s bravery. He ends up spending more time shedding tears (sometimes of sadness, but usually of fright) than swashbuckling, which might be a bit offputting to those expecting the typical fearless tot. However, it ends up being a canny move on creator Aaron Renier’s part, grounding young Walker Bean as a normal kid caught up in a frightening world of pirates and magic, just trying to save his grandfather’s life and survive multiple shipwrecks and attempted executions. The similarly-aged companions that he picks up have similarly flowing tear ducts as well, with the end result seeming more like the exaggerated emotions of Japanese manga than a deficit in guts among the heroes. And while the adult characters aren’t as weepy, they are often demonstrably less competent and more easily manipulated, so the combination of openness and intelligence that the main characters show makes them the real center of the story.

As for that story, it’s a pretty good one, seeing young Walker tasked with returning a cursed skull to a pair of monstrous “merwitches” who dwell in the ocean’s depths, a quest that forces him to jump in well over his head, bouncing back and forth between his naval captain father and a ship of pirates, both of whom fall under the sway of a mysterious, possibly inhuman doctor who wants to use them and the skull for his own nefarious ends. It’s a fast-moving tale with lots of twists and turns, and Walker develops nicely as a character throughout, making the best of his circumstances and using his strengths as an inventor (coming up with ideas like retractable wheels on a ship for traveling on land) to find solutions to his problems when his small stature makes him seem powerless. There’s also some of the standard “power of friendship” stuff, but it’s not very sappy; Walker allies with two young members of the pirate crew, but there’s a lot of mutual distrust, and some of the actions he takes in pursuit of his noble goal end up hurting them and betraying their trust. It’s a surprisingly deep look at realistic human relationships, especially those among the volatile emotions of youth.

While the story is a good one, much of the fun to be had comes from Renier’s detailed environments, which are beautifully depicted in a style similar to European artists like Joann Sfar and Lewis Trondheim, even down to the album-size dimensions. It’s a quirky world, full of distinct characters and crazy ideas, and Renier packs it full of detail, often using double-page spreads to present a scene like a battle between ships that features inset panels corresponding with cannon fire, or chase through the crowded market in a seaside town that sees Walker and his friend Shiv weave in and out of people in a path across the pages that clearly communicates what is happening even though there are multiple images of them scattered throughout the scene.

Special recognition should also be given to colorist Alec Longstreth, who adds life to the images through gorgeous hues that perfectly define the oceanic environments, from the blues of the ocean and the browns of ship timbers, to the sickly green pallor of Walker’s cursed grandfather, to the eerie green glow of the evil skull and the harsh red of its word balloons when it tries to taunt Walker into doing the wrong thing. Even scenes that take place in the dark manage to use color to make the images clear, using dark greens and blues to define everything without overwhelming the linework.

It’s a beautiful book, full of energy and life, an extensive world to explore and well-defined characters to inhabit it. And while it comes to a satisfying conclusion, the closing pages promise a sequel, which is great news, since there’s plenty more here that Renier can explore, more adventures to have and inventions to construct, more crazy personalities to meet and monsters to fight. It’s shaping up to be an excellent series, and Renier definitely has the talent to keep it going for a long time to come.

Pang, the Wandering Shaolin Monk: That title refers to what I feel while waiting for the next volume

Elsewhere: I contributed to a "Best Graphic Novels of 2010" list for Flashlight Worthy Books, spotlighting The Unsinkable Walker Bean by Aaron Renier, which isn't actually my very favorite book of the year (that's still to be determined), but is definitely one that I think could stand to get more attention.  Other contributors include Jog, David Welsh, Tucker Stone, and Brigid Alverson, so check that list out; it's good stuff.


Pang, the Wandering Shaolin Monk, volume 1: Refuge of the Heart
By Ben Costa



In this exciting age of comics ubiquity, you never know what you’re going to find, whether you’re looking at literary comics, imports from foreign countries, young adult comics, or, in probably the category most choked with volume, webcomics. A huge wealth of quality comics can be found online, and some of the best of them even get a chance to make it to print, sometimes through the recognition of organizations like the Xeric Foundation. Ben Costa is one such recipient of a Xeric grant, which allowed him to bring out a print version of his webcomic Pang, the Wandering Shaolin Monk, and the world is better for having it available. Costa’s comic is a fascinating bit of historical fiction regarding the Shaolin Temple and its role in the takeover of the southern regions of China by the Qing Dynasty in the 17th century. If that sounds like a dry bit of textbook learning, the comic is anything but, following the impressionable, sheltered young monk of the title as he stumbles into events he barely understands, trying to make his way in the world after events lead to him leaving his temple, the only home he has ever known. Costa fills the book with humor and personality, movement and color, activity and life, making sure to fill in the edges of the panels with realistic detail and informative footnotes, but centering on Pang, giving him a relatable voice (with modern inflections and slang) and emotions, his open expression conveying the fear, excitability, and meditative calm that he experiences.



In fact, the depiction of the main character is one of the interesting things that Costa does; unlike the other characters, who sport a variety of facial shapes and distinctive features, Pang is presented as a sort of blank slate, his round head and dot eyes seeming only slightly more detailed than a smiley face. It may be an attempt to allow the reader to project themselves onto the character, imagining what it would be like if they were playing the role, but he still ends up coming off as expressive and relatable, especially when he’s flustered or determined. And Costa fills everything in around him so well that he soon seems like just another denizen of this colorful world.



Costa’s innovative tendencies don’t stop with his main character either; he is constantly mixing things up and going in unexpected directions artistically, using Chris Ware-style captions to begin or end spoken phrases or to semi-comedically comment on the action of the panels, and laying the panels themselves out in a different order than the natural reading progression, directing readers all over the page with arrows (and sometimes making things more confusing than they need to be). He uses thick, definitive brushstrokes surrounded with gorgeous colors that really make the environments pop, but these clean lines get messy and less defined in action scenes, signifying the rush of adrenaline and emotion that sets them apart from more placid domestic moments. It’s a pretty bold statement of artistic expression, never sitting still, always shifting and moving, capturing a living history.



It’s a pretty impressive achievement, obviously well-researched, but still exciting and full of character. While the book starts off with Pang entering a busy town and learning about the life of the people, much of the volume is taken up with a flashback detailing what happened to make him leave the temple, allowing Costa to spend page after page on huge battle scenes and big action. Later, the fighting catches up with our hero, and he has an extended fight scene while wearing a giant wooden collar as a form of shackles; along with historical scene-setting and deft characterization, Costa has a flair for action choreography as well, which is a must when depicting martial arts. It’s easy to see why he was chosen for a grant; this is one talented cartoonist, an artist with a vision that seems to burst out of his pen and onto the page (or leap from his graphics software onto computer screens). With this volume only signaling the start of a lengthy epic, it should be amazing to watch where he goes next.

Minicomics mayhem, part one

Elsewhere:  I reviewed Brain Camp, a young adults' graphic novel illustrated by Faith Erin Hicks, at IndiePulp.  It's pretty good.

And here is the first of at least two collections of reviews of various minicomics I've obtained recently:

Stories, Volume 3: "Catch Me If You Can"
By Martin Cendreda
Buy it from Quimby's

This affecting little story is one of the things that minicomics do so well, conveying a short story in an attractive package, a pure bit of the artist's essence, direct from his mind to yours.  Or, it's an opportunity for a creative person to goof off and experiment, seeing what works and giving readers a glimpse of his process.  Either style is worthwhile, but this particular example falls into the first category, a beautiful little story about a man and his daughter eating ice cream cones and playing together, and when he turns away she wanders off, and the next thing he knows, she's grown older.  And older.  And then he dies.  The end.  That sounds ultra-simplistic, but it's done so elegantly here, a basic concept conveyed perfectly without any words, the cute, playful images going straight for the gut.  It might be something that hits harder for actual fathers (or mothers), but it works so well here, with Cendreda capturing the love between parent and child through expressions and body language.  When you have to wipe away a tear after reading it, you know he's done his job well.
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Monday, Part One
By Andy Hartzell
Buy it from Global Hobo

Andy Hartzell's 2007 graphic novel Fox Bunny Funny was a pretty fascinating bit of symbolism regarding sexuality and lifestyle choices, and with this minicomic, which is the first chapter of another book in progress (although it should be noted that this first minicomic is dated 2004, so it predates the more well-known book.  So far, three chapters have come out, apparently forming about half of the complete story), he shows that he certainly hasn't exhausted his idea factory.  The story here picks up in the Garden of Eden, on the titular day after God's post-creation day of rest, and while Adam and Eve are happy, they're wondering what's next, figuring out their brand-new world, how it works, and how they fit into it.  The snake (sporting a weirdly square, human-like head on his regular skinny body) shows up and sows doubt about God, saying his creativity is all played out, prompting a trip to "the birthplace" to see what God is up to.  He ends up being a grumpy artist type (and another weird design, with a single eye atop a pyramid-shaped head, and a beard that turns all pointy when he gets angry), upset at the snake's criticism, sure that his best work is still ahead of him. It's an interesting take on the Judeo-Christian creation myth, establishing personalities for the characters (Adam loves the simple pleasures of their world, like the funny monkeys, but Eve is less happy, unsure whether the sun is going to come back up after it disappears for the first time, although she does love the peaceful beauty of the garden, especially the lion laying down with the lamb) and coming up with a quirky plot conflict in which we wonder what God's next move is and how it's all going to lead to the expected moments with the apple and the banishment.  What Hartzell's ultimate message is remains to be seen, but his enjoyably chunky art and expressively odd take on a well known story should make it really neat to see him get there.
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Weird Schmeird #2
By Ryan Cecil Smith
Buy it from the creator

Here's another thing that minicomics can do that others can't, at least not without being expensive: provide a unique, one-of-a-kind object.  This booklet comes in a plastic bag that is decorated by the artist (with a pink paint that doesn't show up well on my scanner, but looks really nice in person), adding an extra touch of craft as Ryan Cecil Smith embellishes the images on the cover.  There's also a laser-cut cardboard insert with which readers can punch out and assemble their own package-delivery-related toys:

Luckily, the inside of the book matches the creativity of the presentation, containing "two exciting comic stories and one boring one".  The first two are full of crazy energy, with one following a trio of bicycle-riding spies as they rescue a fellow agent who has been captured and held prisoner at a secret ninja training camp.  The story is an explosion of motion and excitement, with panels angling crazily all over the pages, characters crashing into each other and bikes racing and jumping everywhere.  It's pretty awesome:

The second story is an entertaining horror tale in which two teenage girls wander into some dangerous woods and get menaced by an evil witch/mad scientist.  It's enjoyable stuff, full of moody shadows and idiosyncratic character art.  Finally, the "boring" story is an autobiographical tale of Smith working in a college mail room and chatting with the drivers who make deliveries.  It's kind of interesting, although the opening diagram of the workplace is probably the highlight, demonstrating Smith's Dan Zettwoch influence most strikingly.  There are also some sketchbook sections that show off some really nice art drawn in India and Japan; the whole thing is a pretty great encapsulation of Smith's style, showing off his chops and indicating a wide range of different directions in which he could go with his work in the future.  Whatever the case, it should be lots of fun to go along with him for the ride.
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Trubble Club III
By Al Burian, Thorn Brandt, Lilli Carre, Joshua Cotter, Ezra Claytan Daniels, Lucy Knisley, Rachel Niffenegger, Bernie McGovern, Onsmith, Laura Park, Grant Reynolds, Becca Taylor, Jeremy Tinder, Marco Torres, Nate Beatty, Jose Garibaldi, Corinne Mucha, and Aaron Renier

Buy it from Quimby's

This minicomic collects the output of a "secret" group of Chicago cartoonists who meet regularly to jam exquisite corpse style, with one person drawing a panel at a time, adding up to a truly bizarre series of comic strips (you can see some examples at their official blog).  Some of the contributors are recognizable, such as Lucy Knisley, Laura Park, or Aaron Renier, but they all seem to get subsumed into the whole, becoming concerned with grossness and bodily functions and often cruel death.  Some strips take on a narrative as people add subsequent images, while others remain a parade of strangeness, but the talent of most all involved is clear, as they all reproduce each other's images and put their own spin on them.  The best are ones in which a concept is presented in the initial panel and everyone else runs with them: a man saying "Look what the cat dragged in" leads to a series of gruesome Garfield jokes, and what starts as a series of weirdos spouting non sequiturs like "I sneezed on my cheese!" leads to a pretty hilarious punchline.  If you're receptive to seeing what artists get up to when they're screwing around (and probably drinking), this is totally worth a look.

Stuck in the Middle: A good descriptor of the book, actually

I'll explain that title in a second, but first, here's a few (hopefully) brief thoughts about the movie adaptation of Neil Gaiman's Stardust, which I watched last night:

It's hard to talk about a movie like this, which I can't help but compare to the book. As is true in almost all cases, the book is better, but certain parts of the movie just grated on me. In some cases, it was small changes, like the lack of a better explanation for the wall separating the village from "another world". My wife wanted to know why they didn't just seal up the hole; the movie leaves out anything about the recurring festival, making it seem like the market is always there. In fact, it limits the "world" on the other side of the wall to the kingdom of Stormhold, which seems to make the world of the book much smaller. It's supposed to be all of Faerie over there, not just one mystical kingdom. And then there are scenes where they give too much information, perhaps out of the fear that viewers are stupid and won't be able to figure anything out for themselves. For instance, Tristan's mother gets turned into a bird by her witch master. We could have figured that out just by showing the bird with a chain around its leg, but they had to throw in a gratuitous bit in which the witch changes her back to human again so she can fetch some tea or something. There's plenty of other complaints (I could have done without Robert De Niro mincing about in petticoats, and the old lady makeup on Michelle Pfeiffer and her witchly cohorts was pretty unconvincing), but many of them come down to differences between the book and the movie, and that will get tiresome if I keep going over them. On the positive side, a lot of the imagery was pretty incredible, and it was an enjoyable enough story for the most part. I've just already experienced a better version of it. And while I understand the need for a climactic action set-piece, I like the simple elegance of the book's ending much better. Although, we did get a sword fight in which one of the combatants was a voodoo-doll-controlled corpse; that's a great, Matt Fraction-style idea right there. So, I guess it's a decent movie, but even without having read the book, I suspect it would be far from a classic.
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Okay, sorry to ramble on like that; let's get to the real purpose of this post:

Stuck in the Middle: Seventeen Comics from an Unpleasant Age
Edited by Ariel Schrag



The introduction page for this comics anthology seems to indicate that it is intended for kids of a middle-school age, saying "The real and fictional characters in this book survived their middle school years, and so will you." But the actual stories don't really all fit that goal; some of them seem to be aimed at pre-teens, but others are definitely meant for adults. It ends up being kind of a strange mixture, with readers stuck in the middle (ha ha, aren't I clever?) and wondering what to make of it. Of course, as it's proper to note in any discussion of a collection like this, anthologies always end up being a mixed bag, with some stories being better than others. But it might have been nice to make sure the goals of the stories were more focused; just because "name" artists like Daniel Clowes or Joe Matt have stories that ostensibly fit the theme, you don't have to shoehorn them in there to get a recognizable name on the cover.

But how are the various stories, anyway? The book kicks off with "B.F.F." by Vanessa Davis, in which she recalls a friend that ended up shifting into a different clique from her. They both had a crush on the same boy, but the friend ended up making out with him in front of Vanessa, which made her really uncomfortable in a way that she couldn't quite understand.



It's a good look at the awkwardness of that age (get ready to hear that phrase a lot), and while it's probably better understood by those who can look back on those years with a little distance, kids could probably read it and get the idea that they're not the only ones going through these weird emotional changes.

Next up is an excerpt from Joe Matt's book Fair Weather, in which he tells an autobiographical story from his pre-teen years. He comes off as a little asshole (as opposed to a big asshole, like in all his other comics), whining to his mom and grandma, yelling at his friends, and just being an obnoxious punk. The centerpiece of the story is probably when he discovers that his mom has thrown out all his comics, and you can't help but feel bad for him, but you also kind of feel like he deserves it.



It's pretty funny, and nicely-drawn in Matt's cartoony style, but it's definitely aimed at adults. We can often look back and realize what little jerks we were as kids, especially during that hormonally-charged period, but thirteen-year-olds don't have that distance.

Tania Schrag (the older sister of the editor) provides the next story, "Snitch". It's an entertaining (and presumably autobiographical) look at teen politics, in which the main character gets ostracized by the group of kids she normally hangs out with, seemingly just because the others in the group felt like being mean that day. Then she hangs out with a different group and worries that one girl's "boyfriend" likes her now.



It's pretty funny, in the way that these interpersonal conflicts seem world-shaking to the participants but so stupid and pointless to us. Will kids get that if they read it? I dunno.

Eric Enright's "Anxiety" is up next, and while it's an interesting look at the mental issues a teen might face if they don't feel "safe" at school, it's hard to discuss, mostly because I dislike the simplistic art:



The inexpressive protagonist doesn't want to go to school, and he comes up with excuses or makes himself sick to get out of it, so his mom takes him to her therapist. He's a pretty depressive kid, so hopefully he'll get help. Probably for adults, but who knows, kids might get something out of it. I'm guessing it helps just to discover that others are feeling/have felt the same way you do. But they would probably relate to it better if the art wasn't so ugly.

Ariel Schrag's "Plan on the Number 7 Bus" is another enjoyable story in which kids act like jerks. I assume it's also autobiographical; she tells a story about going on the bus with another girl to a third girl's house for the purpose of humiliating her because she isn't as well-developed as the other girls. Kids are mean. I like Schrag's depictions of them, with expressively cartoony faces and bodies:



The story ends in that stereotypical way, in which Ariel and her friend miss their stop and end up stranded at the end of the line. She's so scared, she vows not to be mean anymore, but the feeling evaporates by the end of the story. That sounds about right. As for the eternal question of whether kids would get the story, I say maybe. But probably not; it seems like another "what an asshole I was as a kid" story to share with fellow adults.

Here's one that seems more aimed toward actual kids: Jace Smith's "Tips for Surviving Middle School". It's basically a series of pointers about how to deal with pre-teen problems, illustrated with Smith's kinda-ugly art:



It gets a "meh" out of me, but maybe kids will take it to heart and use the tips to help them get through school.

On the other end of the spectrum, we have Daniel Clowes' "Like a Weed, Joe". It's aimed squarely at adults; I suspect kids would find it boring and pointless. I've read this story before, in Clowes' book Caricature (which, incidentally, isn't my favorite of his; I prefer Ghost World and Ice Haven, among others). It's a nice look at a teen trying to figure out what kind of person he wants to be, relayed in Clowes' dry style. My favorite bit is when the kid, who is staying with his grandparents at a summer house on the beach, starts stalking a girl whose family is staying nearby. He keeps writing notes to her in the sand that get washed away, and she replies, but he can't make them out. After another (asshole) kid that he hangs out with steals her bathing suit, she leaves a note, and even though he claims (via narration) that it's unreadable, the image clearly shows that it says "What the fuck is your problem?". Comedy gold.

Next, Cole Johnson's "Tina Roti" is about a girl going to a new school when her dad changes jobs. As expected, she doesn't fit in:



She does make a friend though, so all is not lost. It's a decent slice of life, but there's not much to it. I kind of like Johnson's art, but it could be more dynamic, and the giant heads kind of bother me. Eh, whatever.

Nick Eliopulos is next, with "The Adventures of Batboy and Starling". It's another autobio, about his tenure as a bat boy for a local baseball team, a job he hates because the players pick on him. It's a bit fantastical, with him concocting escape plans like he's trying to break out of prison, and then trying to get fired. I dunno; the mood is weird, and it isn't helped by the flat artwork:



So, yawn for me, but who knows, kids might like it.

Next is Gabrielle Bell (whose book Lucky I liked quite a bit) with "Hit Me". Good for all ages, I think; it's another true story about Bell's childhood in which she gets embarrassed by her parents and gets picked on by another girl, then eventually gets into a fight. A nice slice of life; I especially liked her friend, who deflects insults by agreeing and taking them even further. And Bell's art is quite nice, with nicely-defined characters and environments, set off with grey-tone shading:



One of the best stories in the book, I think.

Dash Shaw's contribution, "Crater Face" is another good all-ages contribution, about moving into a new house and making friends with the girl who used to have has new room. He deals with self-consciousness about his acne, to which I can relate; I had the same problem at that age. The art is a bit stiff, but it's a nice, appealing story that shows kids being normal (and not jerks, believe it or not!).

Next is Lauren Weinstein with "Horse Camp", a story about her time at, you guessed it, horse-centered summer camp. Except the camp her parents sent her to turned out to be a Christian camp, and it rained most of the time, so she barely got to do anything horse-related. Plus, she got her period and had a generally awful time. Ah, to be young again! Weinstein's art is kind of scratchy and messy, but it does the job okay, effectively portraying her misery:



Kids will probably be able to get into it, just because they can commiserate with the character. But it's a good look at the occasional bad times of childhood; they seem awful at the time, but not so bad in hindsight.

Next, Jim Hoover provides "A Relationship in Eight Pages". It's one of the best-illustrated stories in the book, with a nice, expressive style:



In the story, the main character "goes out" with a girl (this consists mostly of giving each other a couple notes) for a few hours, before she breaks up with him in favor of another guy that her friends like better. Quick and amusing, and probably funnier to adults, since they can laugh at the ridiculousness of pre-teen relationships, but kids can probably enjoy it due too.

Robyn Chapman's "Never Go Home" tells the story of an abused kid who runs away from home (for a few hours, at least), only to end up under the gym bleachers at a school dance with a girl. It's a nice little slice of life, although not as cheery as some of the others in the book. Nice art too, and it can probably be appreciated by all ages:



Next is Ariel Bordeaux's "The Disco Prairie Rebellion of '81", which is about her fight against the horrible fashions of the times, which consisted of penis-headed haircuts, frilly shirts, and tight jeans. I don't know if kids will get much out of it, other than that fashions were ugly back then. Hell, that's pretty much all I got out of it. It's a decent, pretty fun story though.

Aaron Renier (whose Spiral-Bound I've been meaning to read for a while now) follows with one of the best tales in the volume, "Simple Machines". It's about his problems with Attention Deficit Disorder as a kid; he had trouble concentrating in class, preferring to draw crazy machines and stuff. Eventually, he found an outlet in an after school club designing props and backgrounds for plays. It also helped him make friends and learn to focus. It's a good story that adults will like and kids will hopefully find inspiring. Plus, it features Renier's nice, cartoony art, full of wacky doodles and endearing character designs:



Like I said, one of the highlights of the book.

Finally, Ariel Schrag contributes another story (that's the good part about being the editor), called simply "Shit". It's a scatologically funny tale about her having intestinal problems when staying with a friend on their family's houseboat. Kids will like it because of the gross-out factor, and adults can enjoy the awkwardness of youth. A nice capper to the book.

So out of seventeen stories, I count fifteen that seem aimed toward adults (or both adults and kids) and ten that could work for the kid audience. I think six of them could work pretty well for both kids and adults, so make of that what you will. Of course it's all just my opinion, so that could be worthless. But the question remains as to who the book is for. Unfortunately, I still don't have an answer, but it seems like many of the stories work better for adults than kids (or am I just saying that because I'm not a kid?).

But whatever; is the book any good on its own? I would say it's okay. I found it worth reading, but I'm glad I got it from the library rather than spending money on it. Your mileage may vary, but if you're open to re-experiencing some junior high memories, you might want to check it out.