A Drug War Carol

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If you're looking for some holiday reefer madness, may I recommend the inadvertently hilarious Drug War Carol. It gets bogged down in history when that darn Ghost of Christmas Past shows up, but otherwise it's good for laffs.

Green Monk by Brandon Dayton (2009)

(Note: I know Brandon Dayton peronally. We first met on Twitter then in person at APE. But I spent real money on this book so darnit it's getting a real review.)

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The most immediately and prepetually striking thing about Green Monk is its format. The book is small, like a 4x6 card, with but one panel to a page --- two in view at any one time, as demonstrated in this photo from the artist's website:



I'm struck by how different a reading experience it was, as opposed to having those same panels on a larger page, say, eight in view at one time. That format would read much speedier. As is, Green Monk forces a deliberate page: panel, move eyes, panel, turn page, panel, move eyes, panel, turn page and so on for a hundred and twenty or so pages. It's slow. Which makes the physical experience of reading is justaposed with the metaphysical speed of the story, which collision plays out in interesting ways. The battle scenes feel slowmo. The contemplative scenes seem genuinely contemplative. The overall effect is thoughtful.

(I think Dayton could have made the violent and horrific elemetns much more visceral and, because of the slow, deliberate pacing, the effect would not be to the amygdalae but to the frontal lobes --- more thoughtful meditation on violence than Saturday matinee.)

So the question begged is this: Does Green Monk provide enough to meditate upon to justify its meditativeness?

Green Monk does take some stabs at depth. Parts reminded me of old Eastern European tales or perhaps a Bible story from Judges or Chronicles. The main character is, after all, a monk, and he does discuss religion. But while the words push us towards depth, its when we step aside and the story enters its long wordless sequences that the book is most successful both as story and in depth.

And so while the pictures could be more visceral, the words could be more restrained.

But I make this observation from a place of impression. This is Brandon Dayton's first book and it's a keeper. To kvetch about minor points like "I didn't like the sudden Disnefication of the villager" or "I didn't like the surprise lines in that one panel" miss the point, viz. how little there is to complain about for a first book.

The real comment we're most apt to make upon finishing Green Monk is this:

That was pretty good. I can't wait to see what Dayton does next.

Vertigo's Halloween Special

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I should have known better.

This is the first traditionally shaped comic book I've purchased in years, and it's a compendium of advertizey shorts strung together by an advertizey frame. So in the end I've been pitched a bunch of stories to what might be great series, but the individual stories are underdeveloped and, frankly, not capable of selling me anything.

Which shouldn't surprise me at all.

But it looked cool and seemed cool and I'm trying to get Mike Allred and Amy Reeder Hadley to work with me on a project so I gave it a shot.

Whoops.

Shoulda just bought a copy of Madame Xanadu and I, Zombie. Lesson Learned.

Galendara's "Lest They Should See"

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Comics artist Galendara participated in an 18-hour-comics event over the weekend and while I wouldn't normally post about comics made under this stress as it's just not fair to treat them like a carefully crafted work for publication, I've decided that since it was inspired in part by a story I wrote and because it turned out pretty dang cool that I would through it up here. (Note: I will, in spirit, be following my book-reading MS POLICY.)

Lest They Should See

The comic is an elegiac look at fertility and barrenness and, in my opinion, the most striking visual element is what Galen does with wombs. For instance, how they are connected to the earth:





These images are not pressed together like this in her work (click on any of them to read the whole thing), but this is their order and I love the progression from potential to growth to widespread barrenness which reminds me of Isaiah's prophesies.

Anyway. MS POLICY. It's up and you are welcome to read it for yourself.

And let's have more of these events, shall we?

Icon: A Hero's Welcome

I recently read Static Shock: Rebirth of the Cool and enjoyed it. Yesterday I read Icon: A Hero's Welcome and was blown away. This is truly revolutionary stuff, entirely deserving of the name the imprint chose for itself. On the cover of this new edition of the trade, Alan Moore is quoted as saying, "ICON is that rarest of creatures--a well-told adventure story that achieves genuine political depth." I have to agree. In the early nineties while other writers were following in Frank Miller's footsteps, making superhero comics more "mature" by adding more violence and crudity, Dwayne McDuffie was creating a superhero comic that actually approached adult themes with maturity beyond that of a hormone-charged adolescent--and managed to do so in the context of a genuinely fun story.

Icon's story starts in 1839, when an alien escape pod crashes in the deep South. The pod genetically alters its inhabitant to appear like an African-American baby, in order to fit into his surroundings. He's found by a slave and raised on a plantation, and then he proceeds to help the Underground Railroad; fight in the Civil War, World War I, and World War II; earn a law degree; and participate in the Harlem Renaissance. As his sidekick, Rocket, says of his history, "His life spans the breadth of the African-American experience." When Rocket meets him in 1993, he's an upper-middle class lawyer living in the suburbs of the fictional city Dakota. (She says upon learning his origins, "I think I just figured out how a Black man could be a conservative Republican--you're from outer space!") By setting up this centuries-spanning backstory for his title character, McDuffie takes the Superman myth, a classic tale of the American immigrant, and transforms it into something uniquely and intrinsically African-American.

My favorite chapter in this volume is from Icon #7, wherein Rocket, a fifteen-year-old girl who has recently discovered that she's pregnant, must decide whether or not to keep the baby. McDuffie sets up the story such that Rocket's ultimate choice is entirely believable for her character and he presents this choice in such a way that the reader wants to cheer for her, but he does so while demonstrating an understanding of and compassion for those women in her situation who choose otherwise. I've seen several superhero comics attempt to address such difficult themes as abortion, but none have done so as gracefully and honestly as this one.

I wish now that I had checked out the Milestone line while it was being published in the nineties. I was certainly aware of it, and somewhat intrigued, but never enough to spend a couple bucks to read an issue. I hope that DC continues to publish these collections, so I can catch up on what I missed.

The Button Every Spaceship Should Be Equipped With

(Screen capture from Batman: The Brave and the Bold, "When OMAC Attacks!")

My 30 minutes at APE

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I barely made it to APE. I ran in en route to somewhere else just long enough to meet and chat with Brandon Dayton, whom I had to meet (had to). I knew Tom Neely was there and I wanted to buy something from him (I dreamed that night that I had), I wanted to shake Keith Knight's hand, and I just learned, just now, that Kate Beaton was there. Kate Beaton, people. And I missed the opportunity to slobber all over her hand.

I'm definitely going to avoid learning who else I missed.

I will say though that even in my brief view, APE was awesome and I want to go back. All this great indie stuff.

At least I left with a copy of Brandon's Green Monk. I'm waiting for a moment when I can savor it, and then I will report.