08 September 2008
Another Low Content Post
My days fill up a little too quickly. I'll have a new post on Wednesday, but until then take a look at the Finder website.
05 September 2008
Spacegirl (Day off)
Low content mode today. Enjoy Travis Charest's sporadic scifi/action strip Spacegirl.
03 September 2008
Persepolis 2
Author: Marjane Satrapi
Translator: Anjali Singh
Yes, this is the second volume in Satrapi's autobiography. No, I have not read the first volume. Persepolis is one of those comics that I've wanted to read for some time, yet never confident enough to spend the money to read it. I blame the art work. But the other day I found a damaged copy (the dust cover was ripped to shreds) at Barnes and Noble for a dollar--a single dollar because of damage to the dust cover. So I bought it. I'm glad I did.
Persepolis 2 chronicles Satrapi life after she left Iran in her teens, her bouncing from place to place, and her eventual return. It's a fascinating story largely focusing on inter- and intra- cultural conflicts. More importantly, it is simultaneously about topics common to all cultures (teenage rebellion, finding an identity) and topics uncommon to modern anglo-american culture (fundamentalist government, war). The fact that Satrapi is going through both sides of this equation at the same time makes her story accessible, yet alien. The draw of this kind of autobiography is clear.
What is not so clear is why the art is appealing. It is in a very similar style to fellow L'Association artist David B in it's similarity to woodcuts. Yet, Satrapi's art lacks any of the intricate and complex symbolism that fills David B's art. At the same time, they are clearly of the same school of thought. Why does this style of art work? Part of its charm is its cartoonish nature. Because it is so far from realism it is able to convey movement and emotion in a more fluid manner--such art doesn't have to worry about breaking the illusion of reality--exaggeration is an incredibly effective tool.
Beyond the art, the storytelling itself is very well done. Like most autobiographical comics of the big picture variety (as opposed to slice of life autobiographies), Persepolis 2 is very word heavy and a large percentage of the storytelling consists of fairly static panels (depicting actions during conversation) or scene to scene jumps accompanied by narration. Overall, this tends to not make Persepolis 2 an impressive comic book, but it doesn't take away from the impact of the story itself. Realistic art would have served to keep the reader at arm's length from the story, but Satrapi's use of cartooning gives the story an immediate impact that makes it all the more effective, while allowing Satrapi a shorthand way of conveying action and emotion that would not have otherwise been available. I think I'll have to pick up volume 1 now.
Status: Bookshelf
Beyond the art, the storytelling itself is very well done. Like most autobiographical comics of the big picture variety (as opposed to slice of life autobiographies), Persepolis 2 is very word heavy and a large percentage of the storytelling consists of fairly static panels (depicting actions during conversation) or scene to scene jumps accompanied by narration. Overall, this tends to not make Persepolis 2 an impressive comic book, but it doesn't take away from the impact of the story itself. Realistic art would have served to keep the reader at arm's length from the story, but Satrapi's use of cartooning gives the story an immediate impact that makes it all the more effective, while allowing Satrapi a shorthand way of conveying action and emotion that would not have otherwise been available. I think I'll have to pick up volume 1 now.
Status: Bookshelf
01 September 2008
In which I talk a lot and little is solved
I talk a lot about the balance between story, art, and the narrative tools of comics, but in truth I'm not even sure how they all come together. Story is simply that--the story being told. Art, again, is straightforward--the style and quality of the image being used. The narrative tools of comics are something else entirely--how comics works is a topic that has filled many a book (Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics probably being the most widely known). And even as simply as I've painted the role of story and art--the relationship is not that simple. It may be the case that certain stories and art are better suited to the medium of comics than others--that comics may be not just a medium, but something of a genre. Likewise, the storytelling devices that we take for granted--that I include under story as a category--like first, second, third -person perspective and narrative structure all have to be thought of in terms of the medium within which they are presented. There are certain storytelling devices that work in film that cannot be made to work in the written word. Likewise, there must be some storytelling devices that work in some mediums that won't work in comics, and vice versa.
It doesn't help that comics is such a nebulous category. What makes something comics? McCloud defines comics (basically) as the use of sequential images. This disqualifies images paired with text (like the Far Side comic strip). Intuitively, this disqualification seems both right and wrong. Right because the prime means of storytelling of comics does appear to be the juxtaposition of images. Wrong because there must be something in the relationship between words and images, even if that relationship is outside the panel (And McCloud seems to put undo emphasis on the use of panels). Certainly, someone like Eddie Campbell would disagree with McClouds definition (although if I remember his views correctly--it's been awhile--defining is precisely part of the problem). This issue alone causes many a headache. As a result, coming to grips with the interplay between story, art, and the narrative tools of comics is especially slippery.
In a lot of ways, the quality of a story is the most subjective aspect when talking about the worth of a comic. Certainly there are aspects of any story that will cause them to be bad regardless of medium, but beyond that much comes down to personal taste and, beyond that, the skill with which the story is told. But art is not much less subjective. It may be, as McCloud says, that the more realistic the art the less it allows the reader to unconsciously use the narrative tools of comics (although there are reasons to doubt this, which I'll deal with another day), but ultimately the appeal of a specific art style is very much in the eye of the beholder--the independent comic scene has long been beholden to a lack of criticism for generally poor art skills.*
The actual balance between story, art, and the skillful use of comics' storytelling tools seems the main point of focus that any review should take into account. Some comics may be so successful in one area that their deficiencies in other areas can be overlooked. For example, I would suggest that in general Paul Pope's skill with the medium of comics--both in art and use of storytelling tools--overshadows any flaws in the stories themselves. Meanwhile, Alex Ross often gets a pass for the realism of his art, even though his stories and use of storytelling tools are sometimes flawed. But all comics have to succeed at the most basic level with each of the three elements. A great comic needs to succeed brilliantly in all three areas.
*and I certainly don't mean this as any serious criticism in itself (or as a blanket generalization).
It doesn't help that comics is such a nebulous category. What makes something comics? McCloud defines comics (basically) as the use of sequential images. This disqualifies images paired with text (like the Far Side comic strip). Intuitively, this disqualification seems both right and wrong. Right because the prime means of storytelling of comics does appear to be the juxtaposition of images. Wrong because there must be something in the relationship between words and images, even if that relationship is outside the panel (And McCloud seems to put undo emphasis on the use of panels). Certainly, someone like Eddie Campbell would disagree with McClouds definition (although if I remember his views correctly--it's been awhile--defining is precisely part of the problem). This issue alone causes many a headache. As a result, coming to grips with the interplay between story, art, and the narrative tools of comics is especially slippery.
In a lot of ways, the quality of a story is the most subjective aspect when talking about the worth of a comic. Certainly there are aspects of any story that will cause them to be bad regardless of medium, but beyond that much comes down to personal taste and, beyond that, the skill with which the story is told. But art is not much less subjective. It may be, as McCloud says, that the more realistic the art the less it allows the reader to unconsciously use the narrative tools of comics (although there are reasons to doubt this, which I'll deal with another day), but ultimately the appeal of a specific art style is very much in the eye of the beholder--the independent comic scene has long been beholden to a lack of criticism for generally poor art skills.*
The actual balance between story, art, and the skillful use of comics' storytelling tools seems the main point of focus that any review should take into account. Some comics may be so successful in one area that their deficiencies in other areas can be overlooked. For example, I would suggest that in general Paul Pope's skill with the medium of comics--both in art and use of storytelling tools--overshadows any flaws in the stories themselves. Meanwhile, Alex Ross often gets a pass for the realism of his art, even though his stories and use of storytelling tools are sometimes flawed. But all comics have to succeed at the most basic level with each of the three elements. A great comic needs to succeed brilliantly in all three areas.
*and I certainly don't mean this as any serious criticism in itself (or as a blanket generalization).
29 August 2008
The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Black Dossier
Writer: Alan Moore
Artist: Kevin O'Neill
Design: Todd Klein
I'm not going to do a normal review of this book because the only sensible way to view this particular installment in the league is as a side trip--very dependent on the previous volumes. In the next couple weeks I'll be doing a post on the league series in general, but for now I wanted to deal with a seriously problematic portion of the Black Dossier: the "Galley-wag."
I guess it's best to note here that spoilers will follow, but most likely anyone who will be interested in this post will have already read Black Dossier.
Black Dossier is a very British book. More specifically, Black Dossier is a very British book about children's fiction from a certain period. At the heart of the big mystery of the book is a series about British schoolboys. In this context it makes sense that the Golliwogg would make an appearance--it is an important part of childhood for a segment of the British population. And also now an understandably controversial part of the past. From what I've read of the initial Golliwogg book, there's nothing particularly racist in his portrayal--the story is about toys having adventures and the Golliwogg is representative of one type of toy from the period. But, that type of toy is inexorably wrapped up in racist practices--it has a history (For an excellent in depth look at that history go here).
To a certain point, I can conceptually follow Moore's use of the Golliwogg's in the league--I can see where it makes sense in terms of Black Dossier because of the theme of British childhood. I can also see why Moore disassociated the Golliwogg from the racist origins: as a character he simply had no background at all, so Moore gave him one. Alright, but . . . . Once Moore has one of the Dutch Dolls make a comment about the Golliwogg's large manhood, well, we're right into racial stereotypes and the whole racist history of the Golliwogg comes bubbling up--Moore did it to himself.
Frankly the decision to use the Golliwogg seems hardheaded. The league has not been much of a place for reform. Sure, Moore has changed characters and played around with some biases of the era, but ultimately the league is about playing with toys from other people's works. It can deal with big themes, it can be complex, it can handle nuance . . . but don't fuck around with racism if you aren't going to deal with it.
As I said before, I could have let this pass in what I take to be Moore's intention of associating this with British childhood if he hadn't fallen into what I politely call racial stereotyping. But he did, so it can't pass. Defending the Golliwogg as a symbol of British culture has always been like the American South defending the Confederate flag. Yes, it's a symbol of your culture--it's also a symbol of a history of racism. You can't simply whitewash racism out of a cultural artifact.
Even worse, Moore makes a point of lecturing about the role stories have in shaping who we are, but seems oblivious to the negative impact oppressive narratives can have. It's impossible not to see the conclusion of Black Dossier from the approach to the Blazing World on as a blundering mistake--there is a lack of self-awareness operating here that is astonishing.
A good part of me really hopes that this whole thing will be addressed by Moore and O'Neill in the future (perhaps in Jess Nevins' forthcoming annotations), but I'm having a difficult time seeing this as anything but willful ignorance. I expected better from these creators.
Yes, Black Dossier is still on my bookshelf . . . I . . . I liked it overall . . . but the return of the Golliwogg may be the last straw for this series.
Status: Bookshelf
Artist: Kevin O'Neill
Design: Todd Klein
I'm not going to do a normal review of this book because the only sensible way to view this particular installment in the league is as a side trip--very dependent on the previous volumes. In the next couple weeks I'll be doing a post on the league series in general, but for now I wanted to deal with a seriously problematic portion of the Black Dossier: the "Galley-wag."
I guess it's best to note here that spoilers will follow, but most likely anyone who will be interested in this post will have already read Black Dossier.
Black Dossier is a very British book. More specifically, Black Dossier is a very British book about children's fiction from a certain period. At the heart of the big mystery of the book is a series about British schoolboys. In this context it makes sense that the Golliwogg would make an appearance--it is an important part of childhood for a segment of the British population. And also now an understandably controversial part of the past. From what I've read of the initial Golliwogg book, there's nothing particularly racist in his portrayal--the story is about toys having adventures and the Golliwogg is representative of one type of toy from the period. But, that type of toy is inexorably wrapped up in racist practices--it has a history (For an excellent in depth look at that history go here).
To a certain point, I can conceptually follow Moore's use of the Golliwogg's in the league--I can see where it makes sense in terms of Black Dossier because of the theme of British childhood. I can also see why Moore disassociated the Golliwogg from the racist origins: as a character he simply had no background at all, so Moore gave him one. Alright, but . . . . Once Moore has one of the Dutch Dolls make a comment about the Golliwogg's large manhood, well, we're right into racial stereotypes and the whole racist history of the Golliwogg comes bubbling up--Moore did it to himself.
Frankly the decision to use the Golliwogg seems hardheaded. The league has not been much of a place for reform. Sure, Moore has changed characters and played around with some biases of the era, but ultimately the league is about playing with toys from other people's works. It can deal with big themes, it can be complex, it can handle nuance . . . but don't fuck around with racism if you aren't going to deal with it.
As I said before, I could have let this pass in what I take to be Moore's intention of associating this with British childhood if he hadn't fallen into what I politely call racial stereotyping. But he did, so it can't pass. Defending the Golliwogg as a symbol of British culture has always been like the American South defending the Confederate flag. Yes, it's a symbol of your culture--it's also a symbol of a history of racism. You can't simply whitewash racism out of a cultural artifact.
Even worse, Moore makes a point of lecturing about the role stories have in shaping who we are, but seems oblivious to the negative impact oppressive narratives can have. It's impossible not to see the conclusion of Black Dossier from the approach to the Blazing World on as a blundering mistake--there is a lack of self-awareness operating here that is astonishing.
A good part of me really hopes that this whole thing will be addressed by Moore and O'Neill in the future (perhaps in Jess Nevins' forthcoming annotations), but I'm having a difficult time seeing this as anything but willful ignorance. I expected better from these creators.
Yes, Black Dossier is still on my bookshelf . . . I . . . I liked it overall . . . but the return of the Golliwogg may be the last straw for this series.
Status: Bookshelf
27 August 2008
The Private Files of the Shadow
Writer: Dennis O'Neil
Artist: Michael Wm. Kaluta
I'm a fan of the Shadow as a character. I've never really been satisfied with the most of the material he appears in (even the original pulps), but I like the idea of the Shadow. Where I have found satisfaction in the Shadow was in Kaluta's work with the character, so I sat down with this collection of Shadow comics from the 70's (featuring Kaluta's early work) with some hope. Unfortunately I was let down.
The biggest problem with this collection of stories is the writing. Kaluta's art and storytelling is in an early stage, and his art is a bit of an acquired taste in the first place (his penchant for bizarrely structured faces comes to mind), but he ultimately does at least a passable job. The same cannot be said for the writing.
O'Neil's stories make little to no sense. For an example: a mob boss has taken over the prison, killed most of the guards, and is using the prison as a boss to help gangsters. There is no indication that there is any awareness on the outside world that this has taken place. This type of absurd setup is typical for the stories in the volume and with each story the problems increase (the final straw was the fake twin created by standing next to a mirror . . . in front of tons of people . . . and moving around). The success of a straight up action-adventure book like this depends entirely on the successful suspension of disbelief, but O'Neil crosses any acceptable line at least once in every story. Combined with Kaluta's formative art there's very little to recommend from this volume.
There is one exception in an addition not from the original run of the comic. Kaluta has contributed a new short story to the volume and this piece is very well done. It is essentially a silent piece with the Shadow confronting a Chinese Triad to rescue a kidnapped child. The exposition is excellently handled, the action is tight and tense, the art is excellent, and the narrative storytelling is in third gear. There is absolutely nothing I can find to criticize in this piece--short, sweet, and to the point. If only the rest of the book at been like this. If you get the chance, pick up this book, read the last story, and then put it back down.
Status: Disappointingly kicked to the curb
Artist: Michael Wm. Kaluta
I'm a fan of the Shadow as a character. I've never really been satisfied with the most of the material he appears in (even the original pulps), but I like the idea of the Shadow. Where I have found satisfaction in the Shadow was in Kaluta's work with the character, so I sat down with this collection of Shadow comics from the 70's (featuring Kaluta's early work) with some hope. Unfortunately I was let down.
The biggest problem with this collection of stories is the writing. Kaluta's art and storytelling is in an early stage, and his art is a bit of an acquired taste in the first place (his penchant for bizarrely structured faces comes to mind), but he ultimately does at least a passable job. The same cannot be said for the writing.
O'Neil's stories make little to no sense. For an example: a mob boss has taken over the prison, killed most of the guards, and is using the prison as a boss to help gangsters. There is no indication that there is any awareness on the outside world that this has taken place. This type of absurd setup is typical for the stories in the volume and with each story the problems increase (the final straw was the fake twin created by standing next to a mirror . . . in front of tons of people . . . and moving around). The success of a straight up action-adventure book like this depends entirely on the successful suspension of disbelief, but O'Neil crosses any acceptable line at least once in every story. Combined with Kaluta's formative art there's very little to recommend from this volume.
There is one exception in an addition not from the original run of the comic. Kaluta has contributed a new short story to the volume and this piece is very well done. It is essentially a silent piece with the Shadow confronting a Chinese Triad to rescue a kidnapped child. The exposition is excellently handled, the action is tight and tense, the art is excellent, and the narrative storytelling is in third gear. There is absolutely nothing I can find to criticize in this piece--short, sweet, and to the point. If only the rest of the book at been like this. If you get the chance, pick up this book, read the last story, and then put it back down.
Status: Disappointingly kicked to the curb
25 August 2008
Popeye: Vol. 1 - "I Yam What I Yam"
Author: E.C. Segar
Popeye is not simply a gag strip--it is also an adventure strip with plot lines running for months upon months, each running in to one another. And it's really good.
Forget the cartoons. This Popeye doesn't rely on a formulas where Popeye is beaten until he gulps down his spinach and wallops the bad guy. There are develop storylines with each strip leading to a punchline, but also filled with physical comedy. Physical comedy in a comic strip depends largely on the art. Luckily, there's a cleanness and feeling of movement in Segar's work that really draws the reader along. It's clear that Segar has a good eye for movement from left to right, and he makes good use of his sparse panels.
There's very little more to say. You're either going to like this or you're not. There's absolutely nothing in the art to put the reader off, but if you're not that interested in physical comedy you might as well stay away. At the same time, physical comedy isn't usually my thing, but I find this entertaining --there's something so absurd and simple in what's going on on the page that it transcends the typical confines that modern comic strips run into when they attempt physical comedy.
At the same time, I can't see myself going any further with this series. I appreciate the craft in this work--the sweet simplicity of it all. There's very little need for more material.
Status: Bookshelf
Popeye is not simply a gag strip--it is also an adventure strip with plot lines running for months upon months, each running in to one another. And it's really good.
Forget the cartoons. This Popeye doesn't rely on a formulas where Popeye is beaten until he gulps down his spinach and wallops the bad guy. There are develop storylines with each strip leading to a punchline, but also filled with physical comedy. Physical comedy in a comic strip depends largely on the art. Luckily, there's a cleanness and feeling of movement in Segar's work that really draws the reader along. It's clear that Segar has a good eye for movement from left to right, and he makes good use of his sparse panels.
There's very little more to say. You're either going to like this or you're not. There's absolutely nothing in the art to put the reader off, but if you're not that interested in physical comedy you might as well stay away. At the same time, physical comedy isn't usually my thing, but I find this entertaining --there's something so absurd and simple in what's going on on the page that it transcends the typical confines that modern comic strips run into when they attempt physical comedy.
At the same time, I can't see myself going any further with this series. I appreciate the craft in this work--the sweet simplicity of it all. There's very little need for more material.
Status: Bookshelf
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