Not the Israel My Parents Promised Me: I believe it

Not the Israel My Parents Promised Me
By Harvey Pekar and J.T. Waldman
Published by Hill and Wang



The ever-raging turmoils (political and otherwise) surrounding the nation of Israel and the Jewish people are nearly too much to wrap one's brain around, with the weight of thousands of years of history and countless atrocities, prejudices, genocides, and plain old wars surrounding them. And that's true even for somebody who has been thinking about these issues for decades, as Harvey Pekar obviously had; it seemed like he needed to get his thoughts on the subject down while he still had time, and that's what this book is: a discussion of what had been troubling him for years about his people and the travails of the "homeland" that his staunchly Zionist parents had been so supportive of. But he also wants to be sure that readers take him seriously as something of an authority on the subject, rather than just some guy with an opinion, so he spends much of the book detailing the history of the Jews, both before and after they managed to form the nation that has been the center of so much contention.



Pekar frames the story as a conversation between himself and his artistic collaborator, J.T. Waldman, as the two of them drive around Cleveland, stopping at the book warehouse mentioned in Harvey Pekar's Cleveland, as well as the Cleveland Public Library, and seeing other sights around the city. One suspects that Waldman, who is credited with an "and" rather than as mere "illustrator" of Pekar's words, was something of a co-author, reproducing his interactions with Pekar and filling out what was probably an unfinished script upon Pekar's death. The talk ends up being a torrent of information, with Harvey starting his brief history of the Jews with Abraham, and following them up through the present day, pausing occasionally to go over his own history, including his parents' wholehearted support for Israel, his Jewish-school education, his misguided attempt to immigrate to Israel in the 60s, and his eventual disillusionment with Israel and its relationships with its neighbors, the Palestinians living within its borders, and the rest of the world.



As interesting as Pekar's disquisition is, Waldman is the real star here, grounding the framing conversation scenes with a realistic style, then shifting into styles reflective of the eras being discussed, starting with Chaldean carvings and Mediterranean mosaics, and progressing to ornate Arabic/Persian designs, Medieval murals, and Renaissance artwork, then, when the narrative jumps to the twentieth century, mimicking styles like art deco and World War II propaganda posters. He's a restless artist, never sitting still, always jumping to a new artistic idea, especially in later scenes depicting Harvey's shifting ideas about Israel as files that fill the cart he pushes around at his V.A. job, or complicated emotions swirling around him like his beloved jazz music. And he doesn't stop there either, turning the scenes in which he and Harvey are driving around the city into meandering paths of panels winding across the pages and including lovely reproductions of some of its landmarks. It's incredible work, visually arresting and constantly moving, taking what is already an interesting subject told by a rightly revered storyteller and bringing it to the next level.



There's a reason Harvey Pekar is missed so much by those who loved his work, and that's because he put so much of himself into his comics, pouring his life and passions onto the page. He was always fascinated by people's stories, and that gets writ large here in a history of an entire race, which collides with his autobiographical impulses to form a grand story as tangled and convoluted as its inspiration. One might be somewhat disappointed to learn that in the end, for all his personal experience and studies, Harvey doesn't really have any answers or special insights into the situations faced by his people, but it's kind of comforting that he's in the same place as the rest of us. Maybe he would have been able to work out some sort of defining statement had he lived long enough to see the book's completion, but as it is, it ends on a perfect note of frustration, an aggravating inability to find a solution to the problems created by the human condition. That's the world we have to live in, even if we have to press on without Harv to guide us.

Harvey Pekar's Cleveland: Isn't it everybody's?

Harvey Pekar's Cleveland
Written by Harvey Pekar
Art by Joseph Remnant
Published by Top Shelf Productions



Now that Harvey Pekar is dead and we all miss him, we'll gladly accept any new comics written by him, even if they're not as good as they could be. That's the case with this book, which is pretty obviously completed from an unfinished manuscript. It's divided into two separate sections, the first being a history of Pekar's home city of Cleveland that is as dry as a school textbook and the second being more the sort of thing that Pekar was known for, a personal history of his life in the city. It's an awkward structure, and it seems like the script could have used at least one more revision, since the portions of his life that he recalls don't always have much to do with the city, and one anecdote, about the Twinkie filling that still runs in the pipes of a Hostess factory which was converted into a book warehouse owned by Pekar's friend John Zubal, is repeated in both sections.

There's still plenty of interest within, from Harvey's linking of the fortunes of the fortunes of his beloved Cleveland Indians to the spirit of the city itself to his revelation that the reason he became so well-read and adept at criticism was out of a desire to best his ex-wife in the area of literature. He describes the different Cleveland neighborhoods where he has lived, and goes into detail about his different romantic relationships. He spends a good portion of the end of the book describing his life as it was when he wrote it (he mentions being 70, and he was 75  which would have put this pretty soon before he died in 2010, so there was a gap of several years even when he was alive), and, heartbreakingly, he seems to look forward to the future, mentioning plans for several more books that he hopes to complete. It's obvious that he was taken from us too soon.

Artist Joseph Remnant does his best to liven things up in the early sections, and he ends up being a really good addition to the ranks of Pekar artists, bringing to life many, many scenes of Harvey walking the streets and talking directly to the reader. Remnant's style is somewhat similar to Robert Crumb's, with soft contours to his characters and densely textured shading. He keeps things pretty lifelike, without engaging in Crumb's often exaggerated cartooning, and there's a noticeable difference in the scenes when a newly-single Harvey is checking out women, in that they have reasonably-sized backsides.

All in all, it's not a perfect book (but what Pekar book ever was, anyway?), but it's a welcome one, a chance to spend just a little bit more time with that cranky old goat that we loved so much. Unless some lost masterpiece is discovered, it seems we'll have to take what we can get from the stuff still sitting in Harvey's file cabinets, and that's better than nothing.

How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less: I only have about 30 more days to go...

Posting is very light these days due to craziness in my personal life from pending familial incrementation.  We'll see how well I can continue with the content, since I don't want people to forget I exist!

Links: This tribute to Harvey Pekar that Dean Haspiel did for Entertainment Weekly is really nice.

Via Sean T. Collins: I may have found my new favorite webcomics artist: Emily Carroll.  This recent strip of hers, "His Face All Red", is pretty amazing.

Via Alan David Doane: John Roberson has made a 2002 anthology done to benefit William Messner-Loebs called Working for the Man available for free download.  Looks good; I missed it the first time around, so lucky for me.

How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less
By Sarah Glidden



So what is the deal with Israel anyway?  That's the opening (and closing) question of this book, and its answer certainly shifts over the course of the read, at least for its author and central character if not the reader.  In 2007, Sarah Glidden took a Birthright trip to Israel, expecting to confirm her beliefs about the region and its longstanding conflicts, but hoping to learn more by experiencing it firsthand.  And luckily for readers, she takes us along for the ride, allowing free access to what she saw and heard, as well as her interpretations and emotions, and her attempts to make sense of them.  It's fascinating, enlightening, educational, and moving, an "only in comics" journey through a historically complicated land, and also the head of the person doing the traveling.

While Glidden is Jewish, she makes it known right away that she tends to lean to the anti-Israeli side of the region's conflicts, so the entire journey is a struggle for her, an ongoing attempt to reconcile her views and her knowledge of history with what people tell her, with the propaganda (from both sides) that she hears, and even with what she sees with her own eyes.  It's an emotional experience, for her and the reader, and an informative one, both in the historical anecdotes that she relates (did you know that Hebrew has only been a spoken language in modern times for a little over 100 years?) and in what she witnesses during her trip (apparently, Bedouins are an even more oppressed minority than Palestinians in Israel, but they have no fiery religious/nationalistic conflict to draw attention to themselves).  And impressively, she never makes it a dryly narrated series of geographical scenes, but brings life into the entire journey through conversation with other travelers, bits of history, occasional flashbacks to earlier times in her life, and imaginative flights of fancy in which she interacts with historical figures, holds a mental court over whether the guide is biased toward Israel, and comes up with other clever ways to illustrate what could be boring bits of exposition.  The book never flags, always remaining interesting through its multi-level approach of a vast, nearly incomprehensible subject.



And that's the true triumph here: readers will come away from this book feeling like they know a bit more about Israel, but also understanding that whatever they think of the situation, it's several thousand more times complicated than they could have possibly imagined.  Glidden's attempts at preparation for the trip are kind of laughable; she states that for several weeks beforehand, she "spent every spare moment reading about Israel...start[ing] with the beginnings of recorded history and working [her] way forward."  That's the amount of information required to even form a basic foundation of knowledge on the subject, without taking into account the millions of personal accounts, feelings, interactions, events, and so on, even within the last century.  Glidden probably realized the folly of her pursuit afterward, and while she doesn't make a big deal about it, she does present herself in a somewhat self-deprecating light, often making incorrect assumptions about people or acting in a know-it-all manner.  Afraid of being "brainwashed", she seems wary of a pro-Israel bias everywhere she goes, and a few traveling companions (her friend Melissa and the tour's guard, a young man named Nadan) often set her straight, or at least question her statements and make her rethink her positions.  While she doesn't finish her journey with reversed opinions, she does seem to have a fuller understanding of the region, and a realization that most people involved have good reasons for thinking the way they do.  Hopefully readers will feel the same way.



But even if they don't, if they feel that Glidden is hopelessly biased herself, they should still enjoy her storytelling acumen here, especially in her evocative art, with its ligne claire lines simplifying characters down to a minimal, yet expressive cartooniness and gorgeous watercolors adding life through warm skin tones, dusty desert browns, lush greenery, and deep blue water.  While many scenes consist of characters talking or listening to a speaker, the panels never just feature repetitive figures and word balloons; instead, Glidden fills them with background detail, jumps around to see the expressions of various people, or comes up with interesting ways of conveying information, like having ghostly historical figures appear in the scene, making a landscape model being viewed come to life with miniature armed forces, or having herself converse with people in photographs (which are amazingly depicted, by the way, the black and white images converted to gray watercolor brushstrokes).  It's never boring, and often is the opposite, being arrestingly fascinating and emotional, especially in a centerpiece scene that sees Glidden break down crying during a speech about peace, a cascade of mental imagery flooding the panels and making the onslaught of emotion she feels completely understandable and relatable.  It's just one tour de force in a book full of them.



Maybe that's the crux of this book: the combination of personal and political.  For so many, that emotion is inseparable from their stance on the conflict, along with an additional confusing layer of religious beliefs to muddy the waters even further.  Glidden has performed the admirable service here of directly approaching what she believed to be true, and attempting to share the small bit of understanding that she gained from the situation.  That she manages to convey it so efficiently and, yes, entertainingly, is a testament to her skill, a demonstration of her firm grasp of the language of comics.  Everyone who reads this book will come away enriched, and whether they agree with Glidden's opinions or not, they can see the real people and history that sit beneath the political and religious posturing, and understand the need for peace.  That's the impossible dream, but people like Glidden are the ones doing what they can to bring it to life.

Pamphleteering, of the harder-to-obtain variety

Elsewhere:  in the past week or so, I reviewed Neil Young's Greendale and Billy Hazelnuts and the Crazy Bird for IndiePulp, so read those if you can't get enough of me.

Link: this posthumous comic by Harvey Pekar is pretty poignant.

And here are reviews of stuff you don't necessarily find lying around your local comic shop:

Fandancer
By Geoff Grogan
Buy it online

There are some comics that I don't understand but still find pretty fascinating, and this is a prime example.  As with Look Out!! Monsters, Geoff Grogan is doing some really interesting combinations of styles, contrasting deep subjects with simplistic imagery.  Here, the story (as it were) sees two superwomen fighting as they fall out of the sky, followed by an extended bit in which a naked woman tries to survive alone in a wilderness before meeting a man who first aids her, then turns into some sort of demon/goat monster that rapes her, impregnates her, and (apparently) steals her unborn child.  All this is tightly drawn and precisely colored with what appear to be crayons, aside from an opening page that uses Grogan's "torn up newspaper" backgrounds.  Then the story takes a strange turn, becoming a collage comic that combines old fashion photographs; trippy images of space, the moon, stars, and desert landscapes; characters and cars from old romance comics; and word balloons and captions that alternate between those romance comics and Silver Age superhero comics.  It all seems to be an attempt to combine these parts into a narrative of cosmic/magical revenge by the woman against her attacker, perhaps as an insanity-induced fantasy.  It's striking and weird, requiring a lot of work from the reader to put everything together and interpret what Grogan is going for.  What that goal is exactly is pretty indistinct, but it might be an attempt to demonstrate the emotional pain and chaos that comes from victimhood, as the woman (a sort of archetypical character, with nothing to define her beyond her gender) first imagines her attacker/abuser to be monstrous, then herself to be a magically-powered avenger.  But she's still wrapped up in emotional turmoil, trying to understand what happened, so her thoughts of heroic wish-fulfillment ("You already possess the means to defeat your foes!  Power is not the only answer!  Events have occurred which require a key...and wisdom is that key!") get mixed up with thoughts of love, acceptance, and rejection ("I can't live without him! I--can't--give up!").  Does that make sense?  I can barely follow it, so I'm really not sure if it's what Grogan was trying to do, but it's still something that draws the reader in, a gorgeous object that makes one want to understand it.  Grogan's comics are really like nothing else out there, and their large size and eye-catching artwork really makes them something to behold.  If you're interested in stretching your mind a little bit and being wowed by something totally unique, do check it out.
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pood #1
By Sara Edward-Corbett, Kevin Mutch, Fintan Taite, Tobias Tak, Lance Hanson, Henrik Rehr, Adam McGovern, Paolo Leandri, Mark Sunshine, Bishakh Som, Andres Vera Martinez, Chris Capuozzo, Hans Rickheit, Jim Rugg, Brian Maruca, Connor Willumsen, Geoff Grogan, and Joe Infurnari
Buy it online from Blurred Books

It might have been Kramers Ergot #7, or maybe it was Wednesday Comics, but really big comics seem to be a trend these days, and it's neat to see different creators trying their hand at coming up with ways to use huge pages.  Newsprint is a good way to present them too, making it seem like the comics section of a Sunday newspaper and delivering a good amount of content without being too expensive.  This latest entry in the burgeoning "medium genre" is like an independent version of Wednesday Comics, offering creators both known and unknown a chance to experiment with big layouts and participate in a cool project.  And like any anthology, it has its ups and downs, but there's plenty of good art and neat ideas on hand to make the experience an overall positive.

On the down side:  Kevin Mutch's "Super Love People" is an odd bit of surreality in which a deformed naked blue woman wanders a desert and gets eaten by a rock monster; I don't get it.  "Nevertheless Alive", by Henrik Rehr is an abstract comic, a mass of non-representational imagery covering a whole page with boxes drawn here and there to highlight a close-up of the mass of abstraction; it's not terrible, but abstract stuff doesn't necessarily fit in with everything else.  Mark Sunshine's "Work Projection Administration" is a bunch of small, nonsensical figures cluttered all over a page; there's a ton of text, but damned if I can figure out what any of it means.

On the up side, everything else is at least readable, if not great.  Sara Edward-Corbett's front-page strip "Babysitters" makes for a good "face" for the project, seeing a bunch of panels clustered around the winding image of a snake and following the goofy adventures of various kids plotting against each other in a scheme to make money at the titular job.  In the "cool layout" department, Tobias Tak's "Don't Forget to Remember Not to Forget" uses a cool circular layout to follow a character wandering through a symbolic dreamscape, and Bishakh Som's "Sunita" takes a cool futuristic building and weaves a story about its inhabitants through inset images, text boxes, and arrows.  Taking a more straightforward approach, "Cloverleaf", by Adam McGovern and Paolo Leandri, is an interesting sort of ghost story of a paved-over neighborhood done in a Silver Age style.  Jim Rugg and Brian Maruca's "USApe" is a funny spoof of an over-the-top pro-America bit of propaganda, done in a more simple, cartoony style than Rugg usually uses.  Connor Willumsen's "Fiddle Song" is a Western tale of revenge done in a series of small-ish panels cascading down the page, managing to be dynamic without featuring much motion and demonstrate emptiness without using really large panels.  And Joe Infurnari uses a cool technique in "Rammy & Soupy in: Dreams of Flight" in which a story about a couple of train-riding hobos' conversation is interrupted by a colorful memory that bursts through the page.

It's a pretty great package overall, and you can really see the artists flexing their creative muscles to come up with something cool.  Hopefully this will be an ongoing series, and we'll get to see even more development along those lines.
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Lose #1-2
By Michael DeForge
Buy them online from Adhouse Books/Koyama Press

Wow, no wonder Michael DeForge is a rising talent.  These two issues of his personal "do whatever I feel like" series are quite impressive, packed full of weird, detailed imagery, such that it's only a matter of time before he's a recognizable figure in the independent comics community.  He has a flair for cute cartooniness, but also grotesquerie, especially making things look wet and slimy, dripping with sweat, ooze, and mucous. It's nightmarish stuff, but fascinating, the kind of pictures that really stick in one's head, with well-defined characters and interesting, if truncated, plots to boot.

The bulk of the first issue sees a fairy creature named Nesbit cast into hell for mouthing off to his creator (a gross, tentacled monster), leading to various adventures with monstrous creeps as he tries to contact the person in charge and explain that he's only there by mistake.  There are also cameos by all manner of recognizable comics and animation characters, from Bullwinkle and Astro Boy to Jimbo and Sof' Boy, adding a bit of self-commentary about the life of a cartoonist to the mix.  There are also a few shorter strips, like the gag-panel series "Dogs in College" ("Lately, I don't even know if I enjoy walks"), and a "group of teenage assholes" take on superheroes in "Young Green Lantern".  It's really cool stuff, an assault on the senses that leaves you wanting more.

The second issue calms down a bit, spending most of its pages on a couple of simpler stories, one of which is a creepy-as-hell horror tale about a kid who makes a pet of a giant spider/maggot that carries around a decaying horse head.  It's very gross, but also engrossing (see what I did there?).  The other bit is a sequel/continuation/alternate version of "Cave Adventure", a strip that DeForge did for Top Shelf 2.0.  It seems like a spoof of dungeon-crawling adventures, but it manages to work in some uncomfortable business involving violence and cannibalism.  It's grotesque, striking stuff, tons of fun.

These are some highly enjoyable comics, hurt only by their mostly unfinished nature; it's like we're only seeing fragments of what DeForge is capable of.  Hopefully he'll get a chance to do a longer graphic novel or some full-length stories in some anthology or other, but I'll try to get my hands on whatever he does, because this is some great material, even if it does keep me up at night.
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Tragic Relief #8-9
By Colleen Frakes
Buy them online at Etsy

Colleen Frakes is another rising star, able to weave compelling stories in an effective, cartoony style.  These latest issues of her minicomics series are enjoyable, although #8, "Revenge!", is a pretty simple little story about a man and a woman, both super-spies, who are trying to kill each other.  #9 is more substantial, containing the first part of Frakes' latest long-form work, "Basket Ogress", which looks to be a neat story about stories.  Two girls at a sleepover tell each other ghost stories, but when one relates the tale of the Basket Ogress, a giant woman carrying a basket made of snakes who catches and eats bad kids, the ogress herself shows up, smashes a hole in the house, and carries off one of the girls.  The girl left behind sets out on a quest to save her friend (accompanied by her suddenly-talking cat), who manages to stall getting eaten by telling more stories to the ogress, all seeming to come from (or at least are inspired by) Native American mythology.  It ends on a cliffhanger, which is enough whet appetites for the upcoming tenth issue, but what's here is quite exemplary, full of simply-defined characters that come to life through Frakes' gorgeous brushwork and some really neat details, like the basket woven of snakes, the empty eyes of the ogress, and the inclusion of Native American-style artwork in the stories.  I can't wait to read more.

There's also a short, wordless story called "The Hunt", which was inspired by Frank Frazetta, and it follows a jungle girl as she chases a tiger through the jungle, then comes across a book and imagines herself in other types of stories, before continuing with her regular activities (i.e. running from the tiger when it's his turn to hunt her).  It's a cute little series of pages, notable especially for the way a female cartoonists approaches a sexy, scantily-clad female figure, giving her wide hips and normal-sized breasts, and focusing on athleticism rather than provocative poses.

So, yes, Frakes is another exciting talent to watch rise, although she has already established a track record of complete stories (see my review of her book Tragic Relief here).  She's still constantly getting better though, and her love of making comics is obvious; I'm excited to see what else she can do.
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Hmm, that was long.  Well, more minicomics to come soon, along with whatever I pick up at Wizard World Chicago this weekend (yes, it turns out I'm going), and continuing reviews for IndiePulp.  I'm a writin' machine!

Essex County: I'm late to the party, but I'll still wear a lampshade on my head

Elsewhere: I reviewed Strange #2 at Comics Bulletin. No TV reviews this week, since neither show I write about had a new episode. Sorry, Brady-addicts.

Links: One Patrick Wensink informs me that he is having a coloring contest using images from his book, Sex Dungeon For Sale!, and one of the prizes is an autographed copy of Michael Kupperman's Tales Designed to Thrizzle collection. So go enter!

Check out the awesome Paul Pope illustrations for a GQ article about Japanese concept cars. Hey, wasn't Battling Boy supposed to come out this year?

I really liked this fumetti piece starring Harvey Pekar at the Graphic NYC blog. Good stuff.

Okay:

Essex County

By Jeff Lemire

Jeff Lemire has been getting a lot of acclaim over the past few years, and with this brick of a collection of his breakout series, it's easy to see why. Some (your not-necessarily-humble critic, for one) might have balked at his work, unsure about the odd artistic style, but once you dive into the stories here, it's easy to get lost in Lemire's world of placid settings and crushing loneliness. And while his intimate storytelling style might have gripped readers and plunged them into the lives of his characters in the single volumes, having them all smashed together really brings out the intricacies of the interconnected relationships and long-term plotting; it all ends up seeming like more than the sum of its parts, which, considering the affect those parts have had on readers, is really saying something.

Lemire starts out small with the first third of his trilogy, Tales from the Farm. It follows a young, orphaned boy who is struggling to deal with the death of his mother and the lack of a father figure throughout his life. He chafes against the unsure guidance of the uncle in whose care he was left, gravitating instead toward the hulking neighborhood gas station attendant, another lonely soul who once had a chance at glory as a pro hockey player before an injury sidelined him permanently. He's not helped either by a superhero comics obsession that leads him to wear a mask and cape everywhere he goes, but this does allow some escape through flights of fantasy.

The second book, Ghost Stories, sees a pair of hockey-playing brothers leave the rural county of the title in order to play in the minor leagues in Toronto, briefly finding a bit of athletic glory before managing to alienate each other and remain apart for most of the rest of their lives. The story is told in flashback, narrated by the lonelier of the brothers as he struggles to understand his surroundings when dementia sets in, causing him to confuse everything he sees with some moment from his past, adding an additional layer of poignance to the already-sad story of a lifetime of regret.

Finally, the third volume, The Country Nurse, ties everything together, revealing the deep connections between the first two sets of characters and allowing for a bit of closure, if not exactly a resolution. Lemire gives us two storylines here, with one in the present following the title character as she makes her rounds, inserting herself into others' lives and meddlesomely trying to help with their emotional issues, while still dealing with her own, which involve a dead husband and a rebellious son. This is intercut with a flashback to nearly a century before, as a nun who oversees a remote orphanage must lead her young charges through the snowy wilderness after a tragic fire; could they end up being the ancestors of all our present-day heroes? This wraps everything up in a possibly too-perfect bundle, but it does point out that there's no need for the loneliness and isolation these characters all force themselves into; they've got something in common, as does everybody on earth if you go back far enough.

The whole, huge tapestry ends up being a sad ensemble piece, with the first book setting the tone for the series early, and the rest of the stories continuing in a similar vein. Lemire catalogues myriad variations of poignant isolation, usually self-inflicted. But this is no simplistic, surface-only wallow in various bits of sadness; Lemire manages to make all the characters feel achingly real, through glimpses of their thoughts, examples of the way they go about their lives, flashbacks to revelatory moments, and interactions with each other that demonstrate their halting desire for connection. It's a very impressive example of character architecture, with the reader immersed in these people's lives and feeling transported to a very specific setting and emotional state.

That artwork, which is certainly uniquely idiosyncratic with its square noses and spindly, elongated limbs, ends up working wonderfully to define the setting and characters, and brings a surprising specificity of emotion to life along with wide-open landscapes that match the emptiness that everyone seems to feel. It might look somewhat crude at first glance, but the sketchy raggedness of the lines hides a firm grasp of technique that eventually leads to some astonishingly effective moments.

The second volume, especially, sees some wonderful, powerful scenes in which emotion is laid bare on characters' faces and Lemire comes up with beautiful artistic techniques to convey memory. The elderly Lou watching a key moment from his past play out as if he's just another observer in the room is heartbreaking:

And a bit of tearful recall at a moment of childhood happiness is equally sad:

Lemire returns to bravura artistic moments like these several times throughout the series, but he's even more effective at simple conversations, in which inner pain simmers behind his characters' eyes:

I've only scratched the surface here; there is much emotional richness to be encountered within these covers. Lemire has his own style of art and storytelling, but it's a pretty incredible one, able to work wonders to bring people to life, making us care about them and want happiness, forgetting that they're simple lines on paper. That's the mark of a great storyteller, and it's obvious that Lemire should have a long, fruitful artistic career ahead of him.

This week might also be slow?

Man, nothing new this weekend, for some reason. And I'm about to go on vacation again, so there will probably be little of note around here for the next few days either. Ah, lazy summer!

For your reading enjoyment, I've got a review of The Goon #26 up over at Comics Bulletin.

In other news, the newest installment of Smith Magazine's Next-Door Neighbor is by Harvey Pekar and Rick Veitch, which is a good combination. Check it out.

Brandon Graham is apparently having trouble getting Tokyopop to actually publish the second volume of King City (bastards!), so he has posted the first twelve pages on his blog (you have to scroll down a little bit to get to them), and might continue posting chapters if it never gets printed. So, uh, check that out, I guess, since that might be the only way we ever get to read it. Too bad; I loved the first volume of that book.

Anyway, I won't be picking these up until next week, but here they are:

New comics this week (Wednesday, 7/16/08):

Charlatan Ball #2

Man, I totally dug the first issue of this Joe Casey/Andy Suriano series. I should have written a review or something. Maybe when I get back, I can do something about these first two issues. Watch for it!

Godland #24

Speaking of Joe Casey, this issue should make enough for a fourth collection, right? Then I'll be able to catch up on the story. It's good; I've been missing the cosmic craziness of the series.

Gwaii #1

Is the title of this book supposed to be a play on "kawaii", the Japanese word for cute? It's a kids' book about a little sasquatch trying to find his lost mother. Could be fun. You can see some preview pages here.

Lois #1

Lois Gilbert, an acquaintance of Harvey Pekar, does her own American Splendor-style book here, telling about her experiences as a stand-up comedian, exotic dancer, and other adventures. Pekar co-writes some stories, and Gary Dumm and Greg Budgett, two regular Splendor contributors, provide the art. Could be worth a look.

Normal #1

An interesting project in which writer Stephen Orlando wrote a one-page story and had a bunch of different artists illustrate it, showing the differences in people's interpretations. I don't recognize the names of any of the artists apart from Matt Silady (The Homeless Channel), but it still looks like something I wouldn't mind reading. Here's a page with some information and some preview pages.

Paradise Lost #1

Also from Stephen Orlando's House Spirit Press, we've got an adaptation of the classic poem by John Milton. I have no idea if it will be any good, but the cover looks nice.

Sky Doll #3

Ending the Marvel translation of the extant issues of the French sci-fi/political-religious satire/sexploitation comic. I liked the first issue well enough, but I didn't read the second one. Maybe I'll pick up the collected version.

Universal War One #1

And then we've got the next addition to Marvel's Soleil lineup. This one appears to be a sci-fi story about a big war and a weird space anomaly that appears in the solar system. I should have a review up at Comics Bulletin tomorrow, but so far, I would say it's kind of interesting, and pretty nice-looking, but fairly sterile. I'll see what else I have to say when I finish reading it.

War is Hell: First Flight of the Phantom Eagle #5

Concluding the Garth Ennis/Howard Chaykin WWI miniseries. This has been an excellent read, and I can't wait to see how Ennis finishes it. Don't let me down, Garth!

Blue GN

From Desperado Publishing (that's a division of Image, right?), it's a reworked/modernized/whatever version of the Bluebeard fairytale by Elizabeth Genco and Sami Makkonen. The art looks cool (here's a preview), with sort of an Ashley Wood style. I might have to check it out.

Dock Walloper Vol 1 TP

So did this turn out to be any good? From what I remember, it was a story about a dockworker with a big hand, "created by" the actor Ed Burns. Virgin Comics' stuff seems to miss more often than hit, but you never know when they might put out something pretty good. Did anybody bother to read this and find out?

Dominion TPB

From Boom! Studios, it's some sort of alien-invasion tale "created by" Keith Giffen, but actually written by Michael Alan Nelson and drawn by Tim Hamilton. I've got an electronic review copy, so I'll let you know if it's any good whenever I get around to looking at it.

Fatal Faux Pas TP

A collection of gag comics from Samuel C. Gaskin, previously published as minicomics. It looks pretty good, and Nina Stone over at The Factual Opinion reviewed it recently. I'll have to try to obtain a copy. Here's the official page on publisher Secret Acres' site.

Goddess Of War #1

This new series by Lauren Weinstein has been getting some really good buzz on the comics inter-blags, so it's another one I'll have to try to pick up sometime. It follows the adventures of a valkyrie named Valerie, and it's kind of expensive for a 32-page pamphlet ($12.95), but it's huge at 14.5" x 10". Sounds neat; here's Jog's review; he can tell you why it's interesting much better than I can.

Houdini Handcuff King TPB

I don't know if this is a new version of the book or what, but maybe it means I'll actually read it now. It's about one of Houdini's famous escapes, and it's written by Jason Lutes and drawn by Nick Bertozzi. I've heard it's not bad. I may even one day be able to judge it for myself rather than just parroting what I've heard from others.

Howard the Duck Omnibus Vol. 1 HC

Marvel puts out a huge collection of Steve Gerber's creation, containing over 30 issues of the series and some other appearances (including some issues of Giant-Size Man-Thing, hee hee). A hundred bucks seems pricey, but that's a lot of material. I wish I could afford it.

Jeff Smith Bone & Beyond HC

I guess this is the portable version of the Jeff Smith museum exhibit that people have been talking about for a while now. Sounds like it's got some interviews with Smith, original art from the series, and other artwork from people who have influenced him. Probably would look nice on a coffee table, but I'm fine just reading the actual comics rather than spend money on a book celebrating how awesome they are.

Method Man GN

Hahahaha, this looks hilariously, stupidly silly. It's about a private investigator who is a member of a secret order of Cain's descendants that has to fight evil, or something. And hilariously, the rapper who co-wrote it named it after himself. I guess that's a selling point, but it kind of brands the whole thing as an ego-trip vanity project, doesn't it? Eh, it might be funny to look at, but I doubt it would really be worth reading, even with art by Sanford Greene. Here's an article about the thing on CBR, if you care.

Sparrow Boxed Set

75 bucks gets you a slip-cased set of all those artbooks that IDW has put out, featuring people like Ashley Wood, Phil Hale, and others. Probably good stuff, but too rich for my blood.

Tiki Joe Mysteries Vol 1 High Stakes Patsy TPB

This could be fun. It's an Ocean's 11-style crime story set in 1959 Las Vegas, about a guy who gathers his friends to pull a job against the mafia, who have been pressuring him for protection money. It's by Mike Murphy, from Slave Labor Graphics. I'll see if I can check it out. Here's the official site, which contains a preview.

Who Can Save Us Now TP

I don't think I would normally even bother mentioning this collection of superhero-themed short stories (because god knows we need more superhero stories; that well hasn't been plumbed already or anything), especially since I don't recognize any of the contributing writers, but I see that it contains illustrations by Chris Burnham, artist of Nixon's Pals. So I wouldn't mind opening it up and looking at it, I guess.

Wormdye TP

Also from Secret Acres, this is a collection of Eamon Espey's comics, and it also looks interesting, in that odd, artcomixy way. Maybe I'll check it out sometime? Here's the publisher's page.

ZOT TP VOL 01

I think this is the collection of the black and white issues of Scott McCloud's comic. I've read a little of the color version (I think), and it's pretty good stuff. McCloud is more famous these days for his non-fiction books, but this series is very well-regarded. I should try to read more of it. Here's an article that Tom Spurgeon wrote about the book.

Oh My God Vol 1 GN

From Aurora Manga, this is a shojo/shonen-ai comic about a guy who makes friends with an amnesiac deity that takes the guise of a high school student. Could be enjoyable?

Real Vol 1 GN

Takehiko Inoue's wheelchair basketball manga hits stores. I totally dug this first volume, so I highly recommend that you check it out. Yes, I mean you!

Star Trek Manga Vol. 3

I often hear that this series is hilarious, but I've never read it. I should try to do so sometime. Library?

Vassalord Vol 1 GN

From Tokyopop, this is about a cyborg vampire who works for the Vatican. What? Hey, sometimes when you throw a bunch of genre elements into a blender, it can come out pretty tasty. I don't know if that's the case here, but it's got my interest at least. We'll see if I ever bother reading it.
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And I think that's everything for the week. As I said, I'm going on vacation, so while I'm hoping to have something up tonight, I might not be around until next week. But please don't forget me in my absence! I'll be back!

Harvey Pekar: Master of the silent panel

I don't know if this counts as a review, but it's what I want to talk about after reading this book (which I picked up at Powell's Books in Portland, Oregon; it's an awesome bookstore that anybody who goes to Portland should visit).

American Splendor Presents: Bob and Harv's Comics
Written by Harvey Pekar
Art by Robert Crumb



I don't know if I have too much of a critical nature to say about this book (or any American Splendor book, for that matter). I mean, these stories have been around for 35 years in some cases; pretty much anything I could think to say has probably already been said. I do really like Harvey Pekar's writing, from the rhythm of the dialogue, to the vivid accents and mannerisms of the "characters", to the sense of place that he brings to his stories. They're a delight to read, especially when illustrated by Robert Crumb, a true master of comics art. To name just one little detail, I love the way Crumb often draws Pekar wearing ratty old t-shirts that are full of holes. I don't know why, but that cracks me up. These are wonderful stories, and I was really glad to find this book.

So anyway, I wanted to discuss one technique that Pekar seems to use often, and really well, in my opinion: the silent panel. You don't see it very often in comics, but since Pekar is often writing conversations, it's natural to see pauses, whether it's when the speaker (in this case, Harvey speaking directly to the reader, natch) is gathering his thoughts:


From "The Harvey Pekar Name Story"

From "The Young Crumb Story"

Or if there is just a natural lull in the conversation:


From "Mr. Lopes' Gift"

From "Lunch With Carmella"

And then there are the story-starting panels featuring characters in their environment before the "action" starts:


From "Rollins On Time"

From "Freddy Visits for the Weekend"

Along with some other less-categorizable scenes, like this panel of Harvey contemplating an interviewee:


From "The Maggies"

Or this shot of two ladies exchanging a knowing glance:


From "Pickled Okra (Okry)"

There are other examples (like this contemplative panel from "Hypothetical Quandary", which I mentioned way back in February, in my post about An Anthology of Graphic Fiction), but the ones above seemed pretty prominent to me. There are probably other creators who depict conversation in a manner similar to this, but I think this is the first time I've noticed (or at least paid attention to) it. I'm probably going to start seeing similar panels all over the place now. But whatever the case, I still think it's a storytelling technique that Pekar uses very effectively, regulating the pacing of his stories and adding quiet, poignant moments. Keep it up, Harv! You keep writin', and I'll keep readin'.
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Okay, I think that's all for tonight. I might or might not be able to write something tomorrow. Man, it'll probably be a couple weeks before I get all caught up on what I want to talk about.

100th post spectacular! Wherein I look at artcomix and such

That's right, according to Blogger, this is the 100th post on the blog. Of course, that includes "inventory" posts devoid of content, but who's checking? Not me! Being a comic fan, you have to celebrate multiples of 100; it's a rule. Actually, I could celebrate an "anniversary" every multiple of 25, but I'm not that meticulous.



Anyway, I'm looking at some artcomix (is that an annoying term? If so, sorry.), inspired by my recent reading of An Anthology of Graphic Fiction, Cartoons, & True Stories, which came out last fall. I also recently read (and sort of reviewed) The Best American Comics 2006, which I would have included here, but my wife took it back to the library. So I'll stick to the Anthology, although if I get on a roll I might break out my copy of McSweeney's #13, or maybe some Chris Ware or Daniel Clowes books. We'll see.

I'll try to stay positive here, looking at the stuff I like, but if I find something especially distasteful, I might not be able to contain the bile. First up: Maakies! I've never been a huge fan of Tony Millionaire, although I generally find his art appealingly grotesque. However, the few strips in this volume may have swayed me, with their offensive but hilarious humor. I like the way he emulates old newspaper strips, complete with goofy jokes in a tiny secondary strip at the bottom of the main strip. I might have to check out a collection of Maakies, or possibly Billy Hazelnuts. Here's my favorite strip from this collection (click to enlarge, or it won't be readable):



There's a Charles Schulz tribute section, mostly collecting stuff that I assume was done around the time of his death, along with a 1959 essay by Schulz called "Developing a Comic Strip". I especially like Art Spiegelman's and Chris Ware's entries; they both ape Schulz's style and iconography very well in tribute to the master. There's also a hilarious set of strips by R. Sikoryak called "Good Ol' Gregor Brown", which retells Kafka's The Metamorphosis as a series of Peanuts strips. It's awesome:



Peter Bagge has an enjoyable excerpt from Oedipus Junior. I kind of like Bagge; his cartoony characters are very expressive. This excerpt is only four pages, but it's a pretty funny story about the titular Junior (I assume) drawing a picture of a naked woman and then being ashamed of himself. We've all been there, Ed!

One of my favorite stories (if you can call it that) is "Here" by Richard McGuire, whose name I realize I don't recognize. Does anybody have any information about him? Anyway, it takes place in a single room, but we get glimpses of events that took place in the room in many different time periods, including some from before the house was built and the land was wilderness or farmland, as well as some from the future after the house has burned down and been destroyed. Some panels depict a single scene, while others have other squares inset in them showing events from a different time period; each of the panels or insets is labeled with the year of its origin.



It's a very affecting look at all the generations of people who inhabit the same space. I like it a lot, and I'll have to look for other stuff by McGuire.

Okay, time for some negativity. Can somebody explain to me what is supposed to be the appeal of Gary Panter's Jimbo stories? There's an excerpt from Jimbo in Purgatory here, and frankly, I find it impenetrable. I can understand the appeal of the design work Panter does; these pages are laid out very uniquely, but what the hell is supposed to be going on? The loincloth-clad Jimbo seems to be wandering through Purgatory and quoting from Dante (I assume, I've never read any of his stuff), although the text in the balloons is not exactly easy to read. Plus, I think there are other characters accompanying him, one of whom appears to be a Fryguy. I don't get it, and I probably don't want to.

Okay, back to the positives. We've got an excerpt from Charles Burns's Curse of the Molemen, and it looks pretty good. I've read Black Hole, which was great, so I might have to check this out. It's very creepy, with a weird-looking kid being interested in the apparent excavation of his neighbor's back yard. It seems the neighbor is looking for treasure in the guise of digging a swimming pool, but the kid sees a freaky creature crawl out of the hole at night. His parents don't believe him, and I'll have to get the book sometime to find out what happens next. I really dig Burns's art; it's heavy with shadows, and his realistic depiction of "normal" people really brings out the freakish look of the weirder characters. Good stuff.




Then we have "Young Ledicker", by Kim Deitch. I believe this is part of his new book Shadowland, which I will definitely have to read. The story here concerns young Al Ledicker, a kid with clown makeup who works in his father's dime museum. His father is working on a rain-making machine that he's trying to sell to the mayor. As the story proceeds, prostitutes, midgets, political corruption, and sexually-transmitted disease all enter the mix. It's pretty crazy.



Apparently, Shadowland details the life of Ledicker, and he's a nasty, mean guy. I can't wait to read it.

We've got an excerpt from The Golem's Mighty Swing, by James Sturm. I haven't read this, but I've heard it's good. It sure looks nice; I dig Sturm's clean art style:



There's an excerpt from Sammy Harkham's Somersaulting in here. I don't know if I've read anything by him; I think I've seen some of his art and liked it, but this doesn't really appeal to me. The characters are kind of lumpy. I'll have to check out something else he's done.

Next: an excerpt from Hawaiian Getaway by Adrian Tomine. I like Tomine, but man, his stuff can be depressing. But in a funny way:



I have a few issues of Optic Nerve, and they're pretty much like this. That's all I have to say.

Next we have a couple stories from the Hernandez brothers. "A Little Story", by Gilbert, is a cute story about kids in a Mexican town. I assume it's from his "Palomar" cycle. I really need to get that.



"Flies on the Ceiling" by Jaime, is a creepy, surreal story about a woman fleeing her past after she had an abortion, I think. It's kind of hard to tell (or maybe I'm dense). He's a master of his style of art, and he really communicates the troubled nature of her thoughts.



Both these stories are from the 80's; I assume they were originally published in Love and Rockets. Man, I can't wait to get the collections of those.

I haven't read much of Joe Matt's stuff, and I don't especially like what I've read, but I think I understand the appeal. There's an excerpt from The Poor Bastard here, and it's a good illustration of his talents:




He's a really good cartoonist, clearly expressing his characters' emotions. And he's pretty funny, especially when he's making himself look bad. Which is pretty much every panel. He's just such an unpleasant person to spend time with, I don't really want to read very much of his stuff. Short excerpts in anthologies like this are just about enough for me.

Another cartoonist whose work doesn't grab me: Seth. Not that I dislike it or anything, but there's not much to it that makes me want to read more of his stuff. I've read some good reviews of Wimbledon Green, so I might check that one out, but the excerpt of It's a Good Life if You Don't Weaken in this book is kind of boring. It follows a guy (salesman?) walking around a small town with a briefcase and thinking thoughts. Yawn. The best part is when he stops to observe a kid who is acting out a parade along with his (the kid's) dog. I liked that bit. Oh well, maybe someday I'll read something by him that I really like.

Dammit, I'm trying to be positive in this review, but here's another slightly negative comment: I'm not especially enamored with Jeffrey Brown. He seems to specialize in whiny autobiographical strips about his relationships. The ones here (excerpted from Clumsy) are cute and kind of funny, but mostly boring. Maybe it's his art style that I don't like; it seems kind of rough and amateurish to me.



Okay, a more positive note: I didn't especially like the excerpt from John Porcellino' Diary of a Mosquito Abatement Man in The Best American Comics 2006, but there's an excerpt here from King-Cat No. 63 that I do like, for the most part. It's autobiographical, and simply illustrated, but there's something about the way Porcellino renders it that grabs me. A short bit about his drinking "career" and a story about various barbers he has frequented were interesting and enjoyable. I dunno, it seems autobio comics have a thin line to walk, both with art and writing. Make it interesting and fairly fast-paced, but don't give too many details; other people probably won't find every aspect of your life interesting. And art-wise, well, that's harder to say. Be clear with your intent; don't make people guess at what you're trying to convey. Who knows, I might be off base here, but this is what makes autobio comics interesting to me. Anyway, here's an example of Porcellino's work:



Jonathan Bennett was another guy from Best American Comics that I sort of liked, but not completely. This book reprints Torrential, which appears to be a minicomic of his. It's pretty good, a short story about coming home from a rainstorm and being annoyed by his neighbors. Short but sweet. Here's a panel I love, where he takes refuge from his neighbors' loud argument beneath a pile of couch pillows:



Another guy from Best American Comics: David Heatley! He has a short comic here called "Northern California", which is an adaptation of a dream he had. It's interesting, but I liked his "Portrait of My Dad" much better. That's all I have to say.

Gabrielle Bell (whose Lucky I recently reviewed) has a short comic here called "Cecil and Jordan in New York". It's not bad, but the most notable thing for me was the use of color, since I had only seen her work in black and white. It's a nice touch.



Oh, and I liked the surreal ending to this strip. She's one to watch.

I'm still trying to gain some appreciation for Kevin Huizenga, but the comic he has here (an excerpt from "The Sunset") isn't helping. It's got some crazy energy, but I have no idea what's going on or what it's supposed to mean.

"Black Cherry" by Michael Dougan is a short story about working at an ice cream parlor and dealing with the eccentric customers who frequent the establishment, specifically a weird guy who always orders a black cherry soda. It's interesting and evocative, ending on a sad, melancholy note. I'll have to look for more stuff by Dougan.

Okay, we're getting close to the end of the book, and here's the really good stuff! We've got six stories by R. Crumb, with two being written by Harvey Pekar. I haven't read a whole lot of Crumb's comics, but after this I really want to check more of his stuff out. We've got the wordless "A Short History of America" (which I almost won in poster form on Ebay once!), which is excellent. Then there's "Uncle Bob's Mid-Life Crisis", in which Crumb freaks out when a fan sends him a checklist of every work he's ever done. Very funny; here's a great panel where he tries to gain some peace through meditation:



It doesn't work though; all he can think about is sex. That comic is followed by "Jelly Roll Morton's Voodoo Curse", a story about an influential band leader from the 20's whose life is ruined by a voodoo curse which may or may not all be in his mind. Very interesting, with some great art; he's good at varying his style to suit the mood of the story. Here's a panel I love of Morton's first wife pausing while talking about his death:



God, I love that drawing. In fact, I'm going to name it my current favorite comics panel. The next story is a hilarious rant called "Where Has It Gone, All the Beautiful Music of Our Grandparents?" In typical old-guy fashion, Crumb rails against the terrible music produced today (that is, in the early 80's when he drew this). He even gives a history of folk music, from the caveman days to the early 20th century. He seems to think that recording killed music, even though he loves listening to old records. It's a hilarious story; I love his exaggerated, cartoony illustrations. Here he is telling us what's what:



"Lunch with Carmella" is a Pekar-written story in which Harv tells a coworker about a crazy lady that used to work there. It's a funny, low-key tale (does Pekar ever tell any other kind?). Finally, Pekar writes "Hypothetical Quandary", in which he imagines getting rich and being able to quit his job and write comics full-time. Check out this really cool panel:



Man, Crumb can draw. I changed my mind; this is my current favorite panel.

Okay, we're in the home stretch. Next, we've got an excerpt from Soba by Joe Sacco. I love Sacco; he's the preeminent comics journalist of our time. This is one of his stories from the Bosnia/Serbia/Yugoslavia conflict, and judging from this excerpt, it's excellent. The titular character is a planter of land mines by day, and a hard partier by night. This story follows him and a fellow soldier as they hit the nightclubs to dance, drink, and pick up women. I love the sense of energy that Sacco brings to the proceedings; these people feel like they could die any day, so they're trying to live as much as they can while they've got the time.



I haven't read nearly enough of Sacco's work; the only full-length comic of his I've read is The Fixer (which was excellent). I really need to check out Palestine and Safe Area Gorazde.

Next, we've got "The Ethel Catherwood Story" by David Collier, from his book Portraits From Life (which I might have to pick up if I get the chance). The story is an interview with Joe Griffiths, the man who discovered and trained the titular athlete, a Canadian high-jumper in the 20's. It's a fascinating story about Griffiths reading a story about Catherwood in the paper and realizing that she had tied the world record for the women's high jump. So he traveled to meet her and convinced her to compete in the national competition. She ended up going to the 1928 Olympics, winning the gold medal, becoming an international celebrity, and marrying a millionaire from San Francisco. It's a fascinating story, and Collier really captures the people with his art while still adding some cartoonish expressiveness. Check out this scene from when Griffiths first meets Catherwood:



I won't go into too much detail on the last two artists, because they're two of my favorites and I'll probably do some sort of retrospective for each of them sometime in the future. First, we have several stories by Chris Ware, who I think is possibly the greatest cartoonist ever. There's an amazing story about Scott Joplin, the "King of Ragtime"; an excerpt from Jimmy Corrigan; "Thrilling Adventure Stories", in which Ware draws a superhero story but fills in the captions and word balloons with his own remembrances of childhood; and an excerpt from Building Stories (which I think will be in the next issue of Acme Novelty Library). Great stuff.

Finally, we've got "Gynecology" by Daniel Clowes. It's about a young, misanthropic artist named Epps. Not my favorite of his works (that would be Ghost World or Ice Haven), but it's interesting. At least you get some classic Clowes scenes, like this one:



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So, that's it for this book. It's an excellent anthology, presenting a good view of alternative comics. Unfortunately, I only like about 50% of the comics within, but that's an anthology for you. Quite a few of the comics are twenty years old or more (there's even an extensive excerpt from Maus), but I guess we have the Best American series to keep us up with newer stuff. Overall, I would recommend it, but keep in mind that I read it for free (thanks, Sarah!).
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Whew! Okay, that's enough for me for today. I might be back tomorrow with more of my usual schtick, if I have the energy.