Manga Binge: Lawyers, animals, and dinosaurs, oh my

Having been sent a stack of manga volumes for review, I'm going to plow through them as fast as I can and let you know what I think. Here's the first batch:

Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney, volume 2
Written by Kenji Kurouda
Art by Kazuo Maekawa
Published by Kodansha Comics



The Phoenix Wright games are tons of fun, combining point-and-click style mysteries with exciting courtroom action and throwing in plenty of wacky characters, crazy twists, and hilariously implausible murders, each case being resolved at the last minute by the put-upon hero who manages to elicit a witness-stand confession from the real culprit just in time to save his always-wrongfully-accused clients. It would seem like a no-brainer to adapt these characters to the comics form. The results aren't quite as satisfying as the games, if only because reading about Phoenix working his lawyer-y magic just isn't the same as solving the mysteries and winning the cases yourself. But judging by this volume, the manga series is a worthy attempt, managing to capture the indelible images of Phoenix jutting his finger forward and shouting "Objection!", rival prosecutor Miles Edgeworth shaking his head in amusement at the hopelessness of Phoenix's case, and the judge's gavel slamming down to announce a not-guilty verdict, and even throwing in moments like Phoenix presenting the wrong evidence by mistake and the over-the-top confessions of the real culprits.

This second volume of the current series (a previous series was published by Del Rey consisting of translations of doujinshi, or fan-made manga) works well on its own, even though it continues a story begun in the first volume. It seems that the first two chapters of that story took a while to get things started, since all the characters are quickly introduced via a summary page, and the details of the case are only just discovered here, allowing the real courtroom action to begin. It's a goofy mystery about a murdered rich man whose brother was obsessed with spiders, with said brother being the only suspect, but certain strange details not quite adding up. Phoenix triumphs, of course, determining the true guilt at the last moment. The second half of the book is taken up with a single standalone story about the murder of a theme park performer who was trapped in his bulky costume, making for "the world's smallest locked room mystery". It's not quite as satisfying of a case, requiring a leap in logic that doesn't seem to follow directly from the evidence at hand, making it less like a case from the game and more like a story about an amazingly intuitive lawyer, if that makes any sense.

All in all, it's a pretty fun manga, if not as good as its source material. One niggling complaint would be the depiction of Phoenix himself, who seems just slightly off-model. His hair is especially troubling, looking less like the spiky, swept-back strands of the game and more like pieces of pointy plastic bolted onto the sides of his head. It's not a deal-breaker, but it's a sign that this isn't quite on the level of the game. If you can get past that and enjoy it for what it is though, you'll have a good time. Take that!
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Animal Land, volume 1
By Mokoto Raiku
Published by Kodansha Comics



This is one strange series, from Mokoto Raiku, the creator of Zatch Bell!!, which I've never been able to figure out either. The concept here sees a human baby discarded by his mother, Moses-style, found by a tanuki, and adopted to be raised in an animal-filled wilderness. That's all well and good, the beginning of a saga of cute animal/child antics, but Raiku pitches everything at an operatic level of emotional intensity, characters constantly screaming in agony or joy, tears flowing from eyes like torrential rivers, everyone seemingly moments away from complete nervous breakdowns, not to mention bloody death from ever-present predators. It's an odd tone, not really suited to the child audience that the cute animal designs indicate.

As for those designs, yes, that teddy-bear-ish figure on the cover is a tanuki, but it doesn't really resemble either real-life Japanese "raccoon dogs" or their usual cartoon depictions. Raiku treats them more like people in animal costumes, complete with moustaches and breasts for the adult tanukis; it's bizarre, and rather off-putting, but maybe it's an attempt at a more cartoonish version of reality, one that is heightened in its emotion, drama, and even violence. Later, a wildcat joins the cast, but he wears clothes, a patterned shirt, shorts, and scarf, standing out from the other "naked" wildcats that he battles, but with no other characters treating it as if it's at all odd. The scale is all out of whack too; the wildcat towers over the other animals as if it is ten feet tall. Who knows what the intent is here, but it's certainly unique.

The story itself looks like it will follow the adventures of the child and his adopted tanuki tribe as they make their way in the violent animal world, with the kid effecting big changes on the ecosystem due to his ability to talk to all the animals, who were previously incapable of inter-species communication. This makes for a startling change from the usual Japanese depiction of man at odds with the placidity of nature; instead, this story seems to be about man bringing order and harmony to the harsh, violent animal world. Again, that's unique, but it doesn't really seem to make sense, unless it's all supposed to be a symbol of childlike innocence breaking down interpersonal barriers and calming violent natures.

However it's supposed to be interpreted, it's a pretty rousing adventure, with emotions dialed up to eleven, most notably in a scene in which the entire tanuki village works together to save the sick child by piling themselves around him in an igloo shape to produce warmth, all screaming together in support of the inspiring adoptive mother tanuki. It's a crazy scene that's completely free of ironic distance, bare emotion laid onto the page, and it's not alone; the whole volume is full of similar moments, including a brutal fight between the clothes-wearing wildcat and several other cats who are trying to attack the tanuki village, with the baby shouting encouragement from the sidelines. This manga seems to be trying its hardest to make readers feel, dammit, to get invested in its weird, cartoony animals and their desperate fight for survival. Even cynics might experience some stirring of the heartstrings, but a mind distracted by all the oddities that fill the rest of the story makes for a confused reading, and that's probably not the actual intent. Still, it's not like much else in the comics world, so fans of Japanese oddities may want to check it out. Everyone else, be forewarned: you might not be ready for this.
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Gon, volume 1
By Masashi Tanaka
Published by Kodansha Comics



Gon has been one of the perennial manga titles to be published in the West, possibly the first Japanese comic I can remember seeing, and there's a reason for that: it's incredibly fun, easy to read, and gorgeously illustrated, simple in its disconnected tales of a little dinosaur who beats up on the tougher members of the animal kingdom with ease, yet exquisitely expressive in the emotions it manages to lend to animals' faces and hilarious in the havoc wreaked on anything and everything that gets in Gon's way. Plus, being wordless, it's easy to translate, so there's that.

Even if there were words, language wouldn't be much of a barrier here, since the action is so wonderfully conveyed that there is no doubt as to exactly what is going on. Masashi Tanaka's hyper-detailed art sports incredibly dense cross-hatching that gives the naturalistic setting and realistic animals a texture that seems tactile, as if the reader is right there among the forests, mountaintops, and rivers in the stories. The sense of movement is amazingly palpable too, such that even a tiny dinosaur headbutting a huge bear and sending it crashing through a series of trees is somehow believable through the sheer sense of speed and force that the art conveys. It's not all action though; the intensity is leavened through Tanaka's hilariously exaggerated facial expressions, including the evil eye that Gon gives anyone who crosses him and the panicked disbelief on the face of a beaver whose pond is usurped by grand reptilian dam-building plans. Every page is just gorgeous, full of life and energy; there's not really anything else like it.

That said, the one thing that inhibits this edition is the price; at $10.99 for a slim single volume, it would be a better deal to seek out the CMX editions of a few years ago, or even the Paradox Press version of the series which came out back in the 90s. For a book that has seen previous release at a lower price, this version just seems prohibitively costly. But do seek the book out if you haven't read it previously; it's definitely something that everybody should see, just to experience some lovely art and the possibilities of what can be done with a simple, effective concept and pure wordless storytelling.

Zahra's Paradise: The obvious thing to say would be that it's anything but

Zahra's Paradise
Written by Amir
Art by Kahlil
Published by First Second

Journalistic comics seem to be on the rise in recent years, but as important and essential as that movement is, what's possibly more interesting is the offshoot sub-genre of current-events-influenced fictional comics, books which draw inspiration from real-life events, but aren't beholden to the often-unsatisfying open-endedness of reality. That may be a glib way of looking at things, but reducing the messiness and complexity of non-fiction to something that can be communicated simply and effectively through characters that don't exist outside of a book's pages is a commendably challenging task in itself, and when done right, it can inform and educate, leading readers to seek out more information, and motivating them to do so by weaving a moving story and getting them emotionally invested through the creation of characters that could well be real people, even if they don't live beyond the confines of the story.

That's what "Amir and Khalil", the pseudonymous creators of this book, have done, and the results are no less than enthralling and moving, placing readers on the ground during the chaos in Iran following the presidential election of 2009, and in the hearts of a mother and son searching desperately for their missing son/brother, who disappeared in the middle of the protests. Their search leads them all over the Iranian capital of Tehran, from the jails and the courts to the hospitals and morgues, all to no avail. But while their efforts are fruitless, readers are taken on a tour of modern Iran, along with commentary on the religious regime and people's varied reactions to it, demonstrations of the many abuses of power being inflicted on the people, and a sense of steadfast refusal to bow to oppression. If there's any message that stands out from the torrent of information and emotion that fills this book, it's that the people and culture of Iran are thriving, even under the smothering cloud of the old men in power. Characters constantly quote revered poets and celebrate their beloved heritage, finding strength in their love of their homeland and their fellow people, demonstrating love and forgiveness even while fighting what seems like a losing battle against the forces of evil. It's powerful stuff, full of deserved feeling, both exciting as a voice for the people of Iran and educational to those of us looking in from the outside.

On the art side, the book looks fantastic, sporting cartooning that places its characters right on the line between generality and specificity. Hassan, our narrator and tour guide, is given the most simplified features, usually drawn in profile and resembling an Osamu Tezuka character, but others, from the belligerent copy shop owner to the hirsute prison guards, seem as real-life as they come, and everyone looks Iranian, unmistakably garbed and comported as citizens of this place of monumental change. That setting comes to life as well, from the buildings covered with images of the Ayatollah, keeping watch on citizens like Big Brother, to the small spots of solace in bedrooms and courtyards, to the solemn sight of lines and lines of newly-dug graves. The use of the comics format is excellent as well, keeping the eye moving along from panel to panel, taking in the events and the people they affect, but occasionally breaking out into expansive cityscapes and expressive layouts that turn a search through morgue records into a morbid chess game, a bureaucratic paper trail into an Escher-esque maze, or the very powers that control Iran into a horrific machine that chews up and spits out its people with unending regularity. It's gorgeous stuff, full of life, and effectively demonstrative of the anger that fuels the oppressed populace.



Beyond the compelling, ripped-from-the-headlines story and the lovely art, there's plenty else to pay attention to here, from the symbolic names of the characters on down. The paradise of the title is the name of the massive graveyard on the outskirts of Tehran, named after the prophet Muhammad's daughter. The mother searching for her son is also named Zahra, giving the story a symbolism about the lost "purity, dignity, generosity, and grace" that the prophet's daughter represents. What's more, the missing son is named Mehdi, which is another name for the Mahdi, the messianic Hidden Imam of Islam, demonstrating how the religious figures clinging to power are fighting against their people's very hopes and dreams in doing so. That's just one fascinating bit of cultural commentary, something even an outsider can grasp out of an intimate portrayal of a land and its people, something that is full of meaning for Iranians but also welcoming to those looking in from elsewhere.



While the subtext is interesting, the absolutely vital depiction of Iran is where the book truly comes to life. This is a place where even though people may be hanged in the street (via crane, a morbidly true detail) for the crime of homosexuality, woman struggle to demonstrate what little femininity and intelligence they are allowed,  taxi drivers take what small vengeance they can for their country's mistreatment by world powers, informational and organizational campaigns are waged in copy shops and on the internet, millions-strong throngs take to the streets when an election is stolen from them, people use what influence and skills they have to help each other find some measure of solace in the face of impossibility, and the mothers of the children lost in the continuing struggle pour out such evocative lamentations that one can't help but be moved. It's a beautiful, inspiring portrait of humanity, and one that is essential in understanding a vital part of our world today.

Miniature comics make for good reading too

Wolves
By Becky Cloonan
Self-published

Becky Cloonan's art is always something to behold, and this minicomic (which, interestingly, was originally published in a Japanese anthology) is no exception, being full of moodily shadowed forests, agonized expressions, and visceral violence. It opens on a naked man stumbling through some snowy woods and then flashes back (with occasional beautiful panels that stand out from the dark shadows of the main story with their delicately filigreed lines) to his quest to slay a monster and the emotional pain that brings him, for reasons that are slowly revealed. It's a wonderful bit of dark action, an excellent demonstration of Cloonan's art skills as she provides lived-in details of the medieval world, the creepy wild woods, and the desperation and resigned determination so plain on the characters' faces. Beautiful work, and being a self-published minicomic, a definite labor of love from Cloonan, an example of how telling these stories is like satisfying a need to get the work on paper and in people's hands. Passion!

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The Death of Elijah Lovejoy
By Noah Van Sciver
Published by 2D Cloud

Noah Van Sciver tells an interesting historical story in this minicomic, but he limits the content of the actual comic to the specific incident indicated by the title, explaining the background in an opening text piece so that the action can start immediately with the sequential art proper. Elijah Lovejoy was an abolitionist preacher and newspaper publisher in St. Louis who spoke out against the public lynching of an escaped slave, which led to a crowd gathering to kill him and destroy his printing press. Van Sciver depicts the standoff/siege, in which Lovejoy and his supporters holed up in a warehouse and tried to stay alive, running out of ammunition and making desperate attempts to keep from being burned out. It's harrowing and terrible to see the violence play out, barely understandable in this modern age to see such physical, visceral hatred over the issue of words being spoken against slavery. Van Sciver's art is pleasingly (and somewhat disturbingly, in this nasty context) cartoony, but he doesn't skimp on detail, and all the action is clear and understandable, with some nice touches like the blots of ink that splatter onto the page over bullet impacts. It's a fascinating little tale, an informative history lesson and a glimpse into the past of our country that should not be forgotten.
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Veggie Dog Saturn #5
By Jason Young
Published by Buyer Beware Comics

This is more of a traditional minicomic, fitting into the autobio/essay genre where the artist just does whatever he feels like. It's not bad, but it's not at the level of the previous two works. It is pretty decent for what it is though, with Jason Young relating stories from his childhood (including a pretty gross one about eating too much at a salad bar and puking in the bathroom sink), musing about the old "desert island records" question, and describing his one-time shoplifting habit, among other various subjects. Pretty standard minicomics material, but Young manages it well enough, with a nice caricature of himself sporting an ever-present beard and large, round, opaque glasses, and he has a facility for relating stories clearly, whether they are playing out silently or being narrated via captions. This isn't exactly something I would urge people to seek out, but it's worth picking up given the chance.
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Various micro-minicomics
By Brian John Mitchell, et al.
Published by Silber Media

Brian John Mitchell and his various artists seem to pump out these tiny comics with regularity, and while they're not exactly revolutionary works of art that demand seeking out whatever the cost, they're unique objects, interesting to examine as art done under constraints, with one small image and some text on each miniscule page, which can alternately make for interesting minimalism or self-indulgent pointlessness.

Of the minis pictured above, the most interesting is probably "Poit!", which features stick figure art from Dave Sim (yes, that Dave Sim) that was completed and then scripted by Mitchell. There are actually two versions of the comic, both using the same art, but of the two, "La Jetee" is a bit more effective, presenting the sudden transitions that occur along with the titular sound effect as either hallucinations or shifting realities, while "WTF" turns them into a guy apparently going crazy, leading to the same result. It might have been better to limit this to one version, but it's an interesting experiment.

On the other end of the spectrum is Lost Kisses #21, which continues a series by Mitchell in which a stick figure both narrates his thoughts and comments "humorously" on them. Previous issues in the series have seen some tired exploration of typical male neuroses, but this one takes a bit of a departure, as the stick figure discusses time travel, which he believes he has been experiencing via seizures. Presented differently, this might be interesting, but the awkwardness of the dual narration and commentary ruins it, and the ever-grinning simplicity of the art makes the comics format of the story nearly pointless.

The Lost Kisses series also seems to have some offshoots, with Ultimate Lost Kisses #12 featuring art by Jeremy Johnson and telling the story of a pregnant teenager, and Extreme Lost Kisses #1, illustrated by Nick Marino, turning the stick figure protagonist into a pretty funny version of an action movie hero, all macho swagger, nonsensical plots, and constant violence. Both are a pleasant change, but not exactly the best of the bunch.

Mitchell definitely seems to do better when he branches out into varied subject matter, although recurring supernatural concepts like monsters and demons do seem to show up pretty regularly in these comics. "Monthly", which is nicely illustrated by Eric Shonborn, is kind of neat, about a guy searching for love, with the title and time period of his searches making sense after a revelatory twist. "Star" seems like it could also be interesting, following a traveling singer who is constantly being pursued by demons, and featuring some of the best artwork that fits onto these small pages by Kurt Dinse, full of moody, expressive shadows. It is a bit over-narrated though; Mitchell could stand to either pare down the language he uses or work on varying his style, since the declarative, staccato nature of his captions gets pretty repetitive over several of these comics. That probably wouldn't help "Vigilant" much though; it's a silly thing following some hooded figures who have apparently retreated from society so as to beat up ne'er do wells, with crude art by PB Kain.

In other genres, XO #7 continues the story of a sociopathic assassin who, in this installment, falls into drug-fueled debauchery and lets a woman get too close, but manages to survive a death threat through his sheer amorality. It's creepy in its depiction of a dead-eyed, near-emotionless killer, with pretty good art by Melissa Spence Gardner. Built #1 looks to start a new sci-fi series about a football-playing robot of the future who gains sentience and makes an attempt at freedom, and it's compelling and almost heartbreaking in its depiction of the robot's desire to live as more than a slave to violent entertainment. The art by Joe Badon is a bit scratchy and rough, but that's mostly just a style to get used to, and it works when depicting the action of the football game and the frantic flight of the robot.

Finally, the "Small Art Sampler" series contains some tiny paintings by Mitchell, all centered around various themes, printed in full color, but mostly just consisting of blobs of color. There is some attempt to explain the themes of each booklet through short text pieces, but they're pretty inscrutable, although I did kind of like the way the images in "Climb" resembled chain link fences. These were apparently all featured in a gallery show, which may have been a better manner of presentation, but they do make for an interesting collection of abstract art, and could allow one to make all manner of interpretations, if one was so inclined.

As always, it's nice to see Mitchell and pals making their attempts to expand the idea of what comics can be through contraction of the space used in the comics themselves. They're not always successful, but they're out there pumping these things out, obviously passionate about their art, and that's something to be admired. Hopefully they won't be quitting anytime soon.

Zegas and Lose: Some comics are worth the effort to seek out

Zegas #1
By Michel Fiffe
Self-published

Michel Fiffe has style in spades, a really amazing vision that seems to be straining to be contained within the lines and colors of the printed page. Thick brushstrokes define somewhat cartoony characters, and attractively bright skies and cityscapes make for a beautiful world to be lost in, but then something will morph into weird tentacles and protrusions, giving things an organically weird vibe, a sense that anything can happen and anyone can dissolve into a heap of protoplasm at any time. It's a bizarre setting, an anything-can-happen freakscape, but Fiffe's sense of fun and deft character work makes it a place of fascination and wonder rather than some nightmare mind-prison.

In this magazine-size first print issue of his current series (which has been running as a webcomic for a while, although I believe this is all-new material), we follow the doings of brother and sister Boston and Emily, who seem like normal people living in the city but often experience strange, psychedelic occurrences that might or might not just be imaginary. The opening story is the highlight here, starting with Emily having a vision of the end of the world (strikingly and gorgeously depicted with bright slashes of black and red impacting the ground, cities being reduced to smoldering craters), then getting in trouble at her job, repaying a kindness from a street vendor, and chasing a strange thief through a video arcade. It's a nice combination of mundane and fantastical, with the chase scene being an excellent climax, the figures zipping across pages and around people and objects, the perpetrator eventually revealed as some sort of organic/mechanical creature, followed by a sweet denouement involving the vendor that provides excellent catharsis to the emotional highs and lows of the rest of the story.

Boston's story in the second part of the issue, which sees him accidentally ingest something that makes his face swell up (but not as grotesquely as some of Fiffe's other bodily transformations) isn't quite as arresting, but it's still pretty interesting, playing like an especially Fiffe-ian version of Pulp Fiction's adrenaline shot scene. The issue also includes two short pieces, one adapted from a found note that didn't make much sense to me, but seems like an attempt at visual poetry, and the other an amusing conversation between Fiffe's super and landlord, depicting them as abstracted conglomerations of shapes. As a whole, the comic is a pretty nice package, a large-scale showcase for Fiffe's fantastic artwork and his expert grasp of characters, the way they move through their lives, and their realistic conversations. If anything, it's a teaser, something that makes readers eager to read more of his work. Luckily, if they seek him out, they certainly won't be disappointed.
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Lose #3
By Michael DeForge
Published by Koyama Press

If there were any doubts that Michael DeForge is the premier purveyor of disturbing visions wrenched from the unconscious married to unnervingly realistic depictions of modern angst, this issue of his one-man anthology series should put them to rest. Nobody else can create the viscerally creepy imagery that he does, full of weird (yet somehow familiar) creatures constantly oozing with perspiration, piles of oddly specific trash and wreckage, and dripping, mucousy tentacles, among other multitudinous horrors. There's much more to his style than freaky pictures though, which, as amazingly done as they are, wouldn't be all that unique on their own. No, it's the depiction of the raging feelings of inadequacy felt by modern man that really strikes one to the core.

In the main story here, "Dog 2070", a divorced father struggles to relate to everyone around him, from coworkers who worry about a cancer-stricken fellow employee to his own children, everyone seeming like barely-comprehensible alien creatures. DeForge paints a pathetic picture of a man unable to will himself into any sort of personal or professional success or even make a connection with any of the people around him, mired in his own self-doubt and crippling social anxieties. That this whole story is acted out by creepy anthropomorphic dog-creatures living in a ruined, post-apocalyptic world is just the icing on the cake. That window-dressing is all metaphor for man's inhumanity and the ruined state of the modern world, but the disturbing inability to relate to another human being is the terror that radiates from the story's core, and it's harrowing stuff.

Some other, shorter stories fill out the issue, including a scene in which an improv comedy troupe commits horrible acts in order to summon the subject of the audience's suggestions from a hellish portal, a story in which the idea of cute anthropomorphic depictions of animals is eviscerated as some ants mourn their lot in life as automatons helpless against the scourges of the world, and a horrific, completely alien scene plays out in which some creatures who pilot faceless husks meet, mate, and have their baby stolen by some sort of flying harpy. It's all striking, weird, bizarre, and gorgeously depicted. The easily-understandable iconography, viscerally disturbing imagery, and ominous feeling of creeping dread persist throughout, making for a wonderfully cohesive comic, even if its one that is almost too unnerving to experience twice. As one of comics' rising stars, DeForge continually reminds us why he's worth paying attention to, with this collection of visions beamed from his brain onto the page possibly being his best work yet.

Anders Nilsen makes a "Big" debut in Chicago

Tonight, I attended the release party for Anders Nilsen's collected edition of Big Questions, which is just being released by Drawn & Quarterly. Taking place at Chicago's Lula Cafe, it was a really fun event, not limited just to Nilsen signing books, but featuring readings, a Q&A, and some surprising added value from some of Nilsen's artist friends. Dozens of pages of original art from the book lined the walls, providing a close-up view of the work that went into the 12-years-in-the-making, 658-page book.

The event portion of the evening kicked off with a reading of a story by Kyle Beachy, who Nilsen described as his first intern, and whose new book The Slide features a cover illustration by Nilsen. His story was a really affecting piece about a man imagining the reason his father did something horrible in his youth, in a nice David Foster Wallace-influenced style. I'll have to look into more of Beachy's work.




Beachy was followed by a pair of readings by Zak Sally and John Porcellino, who chose to read from each other's comics, claiming to attempt to make fun of each other. Interestingly, Sally's reading of a section of Porcellino's King-Cat Comics was kind of flat, mostly consisting of verbally sounding out the sound effects and trying to describe the images (with Porcellino occasionally attempting to act out parts of the scenes), with any fun-making toward Porcellino already present in the story, which was about him working so hard on his comics that he didn't do any laundry, eventually wearing pajama pants and knock-off Crocs, his car breaking down on the side of the road, and him later lining his hole-filled shoes with newspaper. But then, when Porcellino read from Sally's Sammy the Mouse, he brought the house down with his hilarious rendition of the dialogue, doing different voices for the characters and making funny faces and gestures. Who would have expected Porcellino to be the better entertainer of the two?

And then it was time for the man of the hour. Nilsen did a slide show along with his reading, showing a large number of images from the book (and some of his other works), giving a mini-history of his career, and reading a few short sections of the comics themselves. It was really interesting stuff, with Nilsen describing how he ended up falling into comics after his art school professors, coming from more of an abstract expressionist school, frowned upon his attempts at narrative in his art. His first real attempts at comics were in pamphlets for a short-lived band in which he performed as the singer, and later a picture book he made for his younger sister about a turtle trying to make a cross-country trip to his little sister's birthday.

After art school, Nilsen moved to San Francisco and was mostly doing installation art, but he also had some sketchbooks, many of which quickly filled up with drawings of birds eating seeds and talking to each other, making for short comics leading to quirky punchlines. Later, he moved to Minneapolis to attend grad school at the Art Institute of Chicago, and he decided to make a minicomic of his bird cartoons, which became the first issue of Big Questions. He didn't seem to think it would lead to anything, but some people reacted well and found it rather funny, including a coworker and an employee of Minneapolis's Big Brain Comics. This reception led Nilsen to do a second issue, which sold well at conventions like SPX, encouraging him to keep going.

The second issue is notable in that the cover features some inset panels of a bird flying, which was the first "strip" without a punchline, making it the point at which Nilsen decided to weave more of a longer story around these conversational comics. He started to add human characters, such as an old woman who scattered the seeds the birds were eating, and an "idiot" who was inspired by an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem which described spring as "and idiot scattering flowers".

The cover of the third issue was also the first one in color, and it sparked an interest in design, which, due to art school prejudices, Nilsen had previously considered to be a sort of ugly step child to "real" art. He began experimenting with ways to present ideas coherently, marking a big leap forward in storytelling. He started figuring out how to string the strips together into a longer story, such as a bomb falling but not exploding, leading to birds deciding it is a large egg which they need to help hatch, or a bird being dragged underground, an unfamiliar situation for a creature of the air. Unfortunately, this turned out to be very inefficient storytelling, with the big images forming plot points that turned out to take years to resolve. For instance, Nilsen was worried that people would consider the plane crash that takes place in the story as a commentary on September 11, but since the issue where the crash happened didn't come out until 2005, nobody said anything.

Nilsen went on to read some portions of the story and discuss other aspects of his work, such as his interest in "old-timey" illustration, and answered questions from the audience. A comment on cliffhangers led him to mention how much he liked Tintin, which he noted ends literally every page on a cliffhanger, which is a great way to build tension. From a question about how he learned storytelling, he revealed that he basically taught it to himself through making the series, remarking that self-publishing lets you pretend nobody is actually paying any attention to what you are doing, so you can figure things out as you go.

When asked about his influences, Nilsen blanked, but he was able to come up with several names, including Tintin creator Herge; Chester Brown (especially his earlier work in Yummy Fur); Porcellino, Sally, and audience members Paul Hornschemeier and Jeffrey Brown; Sammy Harkham; and Linda Barry. He also draws influence from non-comics sources like music and film, and always tries to pay attention to other subjects, like history and philosophy. Another audience member noted an Edward Gorey similarity, and Nilsen agreed wholeheartedly, noting the artist's facility with cross-hatching, weird, dark stories, sense of sexuality, and ability to blend the funny and the devastating to make his stories work on multiple levels.

One person asked whether he had done any study of birds, or based his bird characters on any actual bird behavior, but Nilsen stated that he had little interest in birds, and if anything, the crows in the story were influenced by the similar characters in the movie Dumbo. However, after he started the series, he began to notice birds more, and started paying more attention to them. He remarked that Chicago's Humboldt Park is a great place to bird-watch, recalling a time that he saw a heron catch a fish and then play with it, letting it drop repeatedly out of its mouth and catch it before it entered the water. He encouraged everyone to become bird watchers as well.

That marked the end of the questions, leaving plenty of time to browse, socialize, buy material from the table that Quimby's Books had set up, and request signatures from Nilsen. It ended up being an excellent evening, fun and funny, informative and fascinating. Myself, I haven't read Big Questions yet (my copy is in the mail), but after this, I can't wait to do so.

Little Nothings: I think they're somethings

Link: I forget who, but somebody pointed out the cartoonist Seamus Heffernan to me, specifically the excerpt from his soon-to-be-released Xeric-funded comic Freedom, which is excellent, and has me really wanting to read the whole thing. It's historical fiction, set prior (and maybe eventually during?) the American Revolution, and just the few pages previewed there demonstrate a real facility with storytelling. This guy is someone to watch.


Little Nothings, volume 4: My Shadow in the Distance
By Lewis Trondheim
Published by NBM



Lewis Trondheim is a pretty great cartoonist, and his ongoing series of journal comics is a wonderful demonstration of his skills. He manages to capture interesting, humorous moments from his life and travels and lay them out in panel form such that the essential comment, conversation, observation, or experience is perfectly communicated. Considering that most of the experiences being related here involve world travels, pretty much every page here is interesting and enjoyable, with Trondheim covering a wide variety of experiences, from travel and sightseeing to conversations and human observations. It's wonderfully done, just from a writing perspective, with the cartoonist's humor and particularly French viewpoint on life shining through even in translation.

And then there's the art, which is as much of a draw as the stories being told, if not more so. Trondheim starts from a goofy position, depicting himself as a sort of bird-man, and everyone else as some sort of animal-person, which is a delightfully odd conceit, but works quite well in terms of reader identification. Once you accept that Trondheim's version of reality is populated by strange animal-human hybrids, it's fun to see what sort of creature will pop up next, and they all seem to fit together as normal people, found wherever one travels.



And since those travels take Trondheim all over the world (he visits Utah, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Argentina, Angouleme, Germany, and the African island of Mayotte in this volume), he gets plenty of opportunities to draw the sights, which end up being beautiful representations of reality, grounding the goofy anthropomorphism in the real world and, along with the relatable details (that is, irritations) of travel, emphasizing Trondheim's feet-on-the-ground experiences. Trying to go off-roading in a rental car in a Monument Valley desert, viewing the Atlantic and Pacific oceans simultaneously from Tierra del Fuego, and remarking on the way Prague transcends its tacky touristy-ness from eight feet up are just a couple of the many moments that are wonderfully captured here.

And yes, the art which delineates all of this on the page is gorgeous stuff, fluid linework that manages to wring all manner of expression out of animal eyes, beaks, and snouts, and especially the absolutely beautiful watercolors that give such depth and texture to everything, especially the breathtaking skies:

 

The coloring also works excellently to separate Trondheim's borderless panels from each other and make them stand out on the page, as well as to emphasize his own individual character within those panels. There's an interesting recurring motif in which the colors encircle Trondheim, yet drop out in the center, leaving the area around him uncolored to emphasize a particular moment, or perhaps to isolate him against other people:

And I love the way the colors often fill a panel boldly, centering attention on the important details in the middle, but fade at the edges, seemingly depicting the fuzzy periphery of Trondheim's memories:



It's a beautiful-looking book, and while it's not exactly groundbreaking or "important" in what it captures, it's a wonderful example of the autobio/journal comic, capturing interesting, funny moments in the life of somebody who is so good at relating that sort of scene, whether real or fictional. After four volumes, one supposes Trondheim could keep doing this in perpetuity, and if he does, the comics will almost certainly be worth reading.

More examples from the book can be found at NBM's blog.

Kinky & Cosy: Not as descriptive a title as I was hoping

Kinky & Cosy
By Nix
Published by NBM

There's a pretty great tradition of European comics in all manner of genres and formats, and North America is pretty sorely lacking in what we get to experience of that output. However, as welcome as any new translated European release is, sometimes one wonders if there might have been something a bit better to import instead. While this comic strip collection from Belgian cartoonist Nix is nicely-designed (dig those googly eyes peeking out through holes in the cover!) and does have its charms, it's not exactly an example of sterling wit and brilliant cartooning that was begging to be unleashed on American shores. Instead, it's a pretty standard "evil kid" type of comic, following the title characters as they cause trouble at home, in class, and in various other social situations (cheating off each other's tests, that old gag where they sit on each other's shoulders and wear a long coat to sneak into a nightclub, that sort of thing), rarely moving beyond of expected behavior or doing anything outrageous enough to offend. It's mildly amusing stuff, mostly contained within three-panel strips, staying within recurring situations and variations on punchlines. The occasional bits that break out of this structure are the most interesting parts: photocomics starring the cartoonist and his pals dressed up as the characters, an extended storyline involving the girls' mother falling in love with the neighborhood recycling bin, a series of puzzle pages at the end of the volume. Of course, there are also a series of Dilbert-esque strips in which the mother complains about not being able to work her office computer, so not every deviation from the norm is successful. The art isn't anything to write home about either; solid black outlines around fairly crude characters, blank backgrounds, mild grotesquerie without anything especially disturbing. It's kind of mediocre, but it is at least a decent example of the rhythms of Franco-Belgian humor, different enough from what is usually published on this side of the Atlantic to be somewhat notable. It would be nice if it was funnier, better drawn, more offensive, etc. though.



For more examples of individual strips, check out NBM's blog.

Shorties: Porn, Teens, Birds, and Elephants

Chester 5000 XYV
By Jess Fink
Published by Top Shelf

Well, this is certainly a pornographic comic. Yep, it's a full-on, hardcore, penetration-and-ejaculation sex-fest, and one that does its job, at least when it comes to stimulating arousal (TMI?). But luckily, it's a really good story as well, full of nice, stylish artwork, humor, and character development. Plus, it's pretty unique, being a steampunk story about an inventor who builds the eponymous robot to pleasure his wife so he can have more time in the lab, only to see her and Chester fall in love, leading to jealousy and retribution, all with sexy complications.

As naughty as all this is (and I can't emphasize the naughtiness too much, with most of the book being taken up by sex scenes that last dozens of pages), it's great to see Jess Fink's style unleashed, as she distorts her figures in orgasmic pleasure and surrounds them with expressively decorative panel arrangements, but still making every emotion and action perfectly clear while keeping the story completely wordless (outside of sound effects, of which "Vert!" is an unforgettable addition to the lexicon). It's a lovely object, and while it's not for kids (or prudes), it's a really fun read and a great example of the unlimited potential of comics.

The comic can be read online at Fink's site, but I recommend the physical version.
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Lucille
By Ludovic Debeurme
Published by Top Shelf

Maybe it's the European tradition this comic comes from, but it takes a little getting used to. The borderless panels aren't laid out in a consistent manner, so each page has a unique arrangement of cloudlike images that do read intuitively, but are definitely different from the comics norm. And within the panels themselves, the thin, somewhat bobble-headed characters live lives of quiet desperation, such that there doesn't seem to be much going on for a fair portion of the story, at least at first. But sticking with the story yields rewards; French cartoonist Ludovic Debeurme quickly establishes his teenage characters, an anorexic girl and a somewhat delinquent boy with an alcoholic father, then, after letting readers cringe at their awful lives for a while, throws them together and lets the inevitable young romance blossom.

While it's very cute and romantic and everything, what's nice about the book is that it doesn't end with their escape from their lives. They quickly and believably connect (Lucille's appreciation of Arthur's goofy teenage antics makes perfect sense for someone who has been forced into an environment of life-or-death seriousness), and it does seem like running off together will solve all their problems, but Debeurme sticks with them and shows that emotional issues don't instantly disappear when one runs away from them, and maturity doesn't instantly bestow itself on one either. Lucille still struggles with anorexia, and Arthur is still antisocial and prone to anger, and while their attempt at a new life is appealing, it seems doomed to fail. Interestingly, the book ends on a "to be continued", so while the story does come to something of an end, Debeurme evidently still has more to tell about these characters. This thick volume is a quick read, but it feels pretty substantial, and it's nice to see such confident storytelling in a style that isn't often seen on this side of the Atlantic.
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Reunion
By Pascal Girard
Published by Drawn and Quarterly

Pascal Girard is kind of a jerk, but at least he recognizes it. Or maybe he's just exaggerating in his self-deprecation, portraying himself as an arrested adolescent still mired in popularity contests at his ten-year high school reunion. Either way, he comes off as a doofus who obsesses over his perceived coolness (both in the past and the present), starts exercising just so he can lose weight to look good to his old friends, stalks girls he used to have crushes on (even though he currently has a girlfriend), cheaps out on the beer he brings to the reunion, attempts to ingratiate himself by bringing along some pot, and almost skips out on the whole thing, even after all his frantic preparations. It's not a pretty picture, but it is a funny one, with Girard making himself look like a fool, capturing his uncertainty and worriedness through the jittery lines of his artwork and delivering plenty of comeuppance to himself as he constantly fails in his attempts to make himself look cool. It's an amusing portrait of a near-universal experience, a relatable depiction of the way returning to your roots can make you fall into old roles, even as you are trying to demonstrate how you've risen above them. One comes away from the book wanting to spend more time with Girard, even as he's endeavoring to make himself look like the worst person in the room.
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Elephant Man
By Greg Houston
Published by NBM

Man oh man, Greg Houston's comics are hilariously weird and silly, full of grotesque imagery, funny names, dumb jokes, random plots, and constant absurdity. This one takes the form of a superhero parody, but the parodic aspects are kind of weak and halfhearted (Stupid codenames! Corny catchphrases! The old "nobody recognizes Superman when he wears glasses" gag!), with the real appeal being the exuberantly odd art and humor, the book full of ramshackle storytelling that seems to consist of whatever Houston felt like drawing next, scratchy lines cohering to form crazily distorted characters (even those that are supposed to be good looking sport jutting foreheads, squinty eyes, protruding teeth, and greasy hair), word balloons and captions full of irascible, rambling text, and any chance for silliness being jumped on and flogged to exhaustion. It's a pretty unique sensibility, and Houston certainly seems to be having a ball coming up with funny concepts like a villain who is a walking punchline, being the fused-together body of a Rabbi, a priest, and a duck, or a group of girl vigilantes who sport baroquely detailed hairstyles, as if the hairstylists of the court of Louis XIV worked on the cast of Jersey Shore. It's a stupid comic, but purposefully so, with the "hero" apparently attaining his fame purely out of pity, the villains being incompetent morons who only commit crime out of jealousy, and pages filled with wonderfully detailed grime and ugliness. This is a highly entertaining bit of nonsense, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
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What I Did.
By Jason
Published by Fantagraphics

Of the three books collected in this volume, Hey, Wait... is a really evocative portrait of how childhood experiences can affect one throughout his entire life, and The Iron Wagon (which adapts an early-twentieth-century Norwegian novel) is a pretty good murder mystery that makes good use of Jason's deadpan style, but it's the middle entry, Sshhhh!, that really sticks with me, immediately jumping to the top of my favorites among the cartoonist's works. It's a silent comic, making excellent use of Jason's facility with pantomime as it follows a bird-man throughout his life, taking an absurdist approach to events that somehow makes things like a baby arriving via mail or a skeleton following the main character around seem relatable and poignant. The universality of the circumstances that Jason depicts is what is so striking here, so that even though the character is inhuman and inexpressive, we recognize things like the acceptance of death's inevitability, the loneliness of lost love, or the combination of pride and sadness felt when a child leaves home. Being one of Jason's longer books, the chapters of the story accumulate until the bird-man becomes a sadly human figure, somebody scrabbling to maintain his unique person-hood under the assault of life. It's sad, wonderful, exhilarating work, a great example of how amazing Jason is at what he does, and how nobody else can do it like him.