Read It: Gou Tanabe's At the Mountains of Madness

Intricately drawn splash pages add to establishing a tone of impending doom.

Gou Tanabe's graphic novel adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness succeeds for two reasons. First, the manga takes a narrative that is familiar to many and makes it new, and, secondly, Tanabe deftly brings into the visual realm a novella that has, to this point, worked best in the imagination of the reader. Like most Lovecraft readers, I too, have read the classic cosmic horror story in multiple editions with a variety of well-written collection forewords, most recently At the Mountains of Madness: The Definitive Edition prefaced by an excellent introduction by China Miéville. It is difficult to discuss any version of At the Mountains of Madness without acknowledging the prior understanding (and bias) of readers as compared to those for whom this is a first time through the story.

Despite having read manga for 20+ years,
it always helps to have a reminder as
to how the panels flow, especially when
the story has multiple characters, each
of whom communicate via dialogue.

This graphic novel volume is the first of two, and serializes in short 5-7 page chapters the events of roughly the first half of Lovecraft's original text. Beginning with a prologue set in January 1931 (five months before the tale begun in Chapter 1), entitled "After the Storm," and concluding with "Chapter 12 Under Five-Pointed Mounds," The First Volume concludes on a cliffhanger with expedition team leader's, and Lovecraft's narrator Dr. Dyer, making the decision to "Fly to the Black Mountains!" The search for Gedney, the presumed lone survivor of the Lake's advance party, is where I would expect where The Second Volume  to pick-up. (I have yet to have acquired it as of this writing.)

As I read Tanabe's graphic novel, I felt as if was I was engaging the material for the first time. Tweaks to the story require those familiar with the original text to read and view the visuals carefully so as to not miss out on key character alterations. These changes deal primarily with the characterization of Dr. Lake, a Biology professor, and his relationship with geologist, Dr. Dyer. Perhaps I missed it in Lovecraft's story, but here it is very clear through the different visual depictions and interactions, that Lake, besides being the advance leader whose disappearance is the initiating factor for Dyer's deep trip into the mountains, is also intended to act as a more traditional antagonist or foil. Lake's unchecked ambition to push the boundaries of exploration are sharply contrasted by Dyer's more measured approach to the huge Antarctic undertaking they are mutually engaged in.

Tanabe includes quotes from both
historical and literary figures,
 including this rare color page
 acting as an epigram to Lovecraft's
story here.

It may surprise the new reader, especially given the obvious influences of the work on contemporary science-fiction and horror, how little the human parties actually engage with Lovecraft's cosmic creatures on the page. It is only half way through the text, with "Chapter 6: Elder Things," that a visual representation of the titular star-headed creature in fossilized form even makes its first appearance. Readers of cosmic horror don't come only to gawk at monsters though, and Tanabe's approach reflects this understanding. A modern reader unfamiliar with Lovecraft may expect more, but careful reading reveals that Tanabe has properly trusted his illustrations and storytelling to build suspense and sense of impending doom.

Beginning with the prologue depicting the remains of the original Miskatonic University Expedition led by Dr. Lake and "the manner and cause of their destruction" that Dyer and his team are seeking answers to. Using background setting and images that an organic, alien environment, not unlike that designed by H.R. Giger for use in Ridley Scott's classic film Alien (1979), Tanabe establishes a blend of natural and alien worlds. This effect is further reinforced through Tanabe's inclusion throughout of journal entries from a number of real-world explorers such as Captain James Cook. For the reader who hasn't experienced the source material, there is a subtle foreshadowing as to what to expect once this group enters the "Mountains of Madness." Once the eventual dissection  (desecration?) of a petrified Elder Thing by Lake, an act that is juxtaposed to that of the members of the first party by some heretofore unknown force, the tension amps up considerably.

With accessible language and excellent, detailed artwork, Gou Tanabe's graphic novel adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness is an excellent way to introduce the young reader into Lovecraft's world. It's visual nature, as well as manga's increased popularity and acceptance among students of all ages, Tanabe's interpretation seems certain to entice the ambitious student to seek out other readily available Lovecraft horrors. (Gou Tanabe has also crafted a manga collection of the author's shorter works, H.P. Lovecraft's The Hound and Other Stories.) H.P. Lovecraft's At the Mountains of Madness would be a welcome and exciting addition to any high school library or reading list... if the adults involved dare to try something different!

Comicbook Shelf: Krampus: The Shadow of Saint Nicholas (2015)

From "I" written by Zach Shields and Todd Casey with artwork by Christian Dibari and Mark Spicer.

Not surprisingly, the cover
by Fiona Staples is one
of the artistic high points.

Four Decembers ago, following a media-fueled folk horror-frenzy, this slender, softcover volume found its way to my comic book shelf. Released in concert with the feature length movie Krampus (2015), Legendary Publishing's Krampus: The Shadow of Saint Nicholas shares many of the same qualities that made the film entertaining. This graphic novel features stories crafted with the film's  writer/director Michael Dougherty credit with a "Stories by" credit. While Krampus the movie focuses on a single family's experience with the demon and his minions, The Shadow of St. Nicholas employs an anthology approach to broadened the primary antagonist's impact on a wider range of unrelated characters.

As with other Legendary Pictures/Publishing tie-ins for genre films (see Godzilla: Awakening (2014) and Pacific Rim: Tales from Year Zero (2013)), the formula remains the same here: include the film's original creative talent, in this case Dougherty, to develop ancillary stories that reflect signature elements of the overall narrative of the film. While thematically related to the movie, having seen the movie prior is not necessarily key to its enjoyment.

Krampus' minions are back
in "II" with art by Maan House
and Guy Major.

Given the Krampus character and perhaps Dougherty's affinity for anthology sub-genre, The Shadow of Christmas is successful in accomplishing what the filmmaker says the intention is behind this project in the collection's introduction, "to deepen your [the reader's] love of the character [Krampus]..." Visually, the artist team keeps the best visual component of the movie, the well-realized practical creature designs, in the graphic novel. Each of the four stories, titled as Roman numerals I through IV, are all written by Zach Shields and Todd Casey (Laura Shields is also a credited co-writer on "II"). Each story is grounded in a modern setting familiar to American readers that creates the opportunity for a hint of the "ancient in a modern world" dynamic that worked so well in the movie.

Splash page of Krampus from
"III" by Michael Montenat
and Mike Spicer.

The most polished of the four stories is the first and if each of the four were to be thought of as pitches for a potential Krampus sequel, "I" also makes the most sense. Simply put, "I" is a tale of redemption. A "bad" department store Santa seeks validation by combating the forces of Krampus to protect others who are more worthy than he to live on. The story is a reminiscent of other Twilight Zone-style stories and while offering no real narrative surprises, the professional execution makes for an enjoyable reading experience.

Much of your appreciation if this graphic novel as a whole will depend on your enjoyment of the burgeoning Krampus mythos in modern mainstream media. If, like me, you dig contemporary iterations of archaic folklore, The Spirit of Saint Nicholas is worth seeking out. As a fan of the movie Krampus, recommending this companion piece is easy. The inherent re-readability of a quality anthology makes the $14.99 cover price well worthwhile.

Summer Reading: Your Black Friend

From My Black Friend, page 2, panels 1-2.

After seeing the extended collection of Ben Passmore's online comic strips, Your Black Friend and Other Strangers, recommended in the past few weekends' New York Times Book Review, I took the small step toward reading the entire collection by first ordering the single issue version online, Your Black Friend. The choice of the shorter, 11 page version was two-fold. First, I was looking to read with an eye toward sharing with my junior and senior high school students this coming school year (and as such it might be more affordable for their purchase). Secondly, given the subject matter and that first purpose, a direct succinct delivery of the message might serve more useful and accessible.

More a graphic-essay than novel, what we comic book collectors might call a "one-shot", Your Black friend is best described as "sharp, informed social commentary in the form of an open letter on race and being black in America." (Goodreads) Indie publisher Silver Sprocket, in a formal description picked up by other online sources, tells us that this is Passmore‘s "necessary contribution to the dialogue around race in the United States, Your Black Friend is a letter from your black friend to you about race, racism, friendship and alienation."

Perhaps not surprisingly, despite it's brevity, Your Black Friend is very challenging reading, and experience that is very likely to be shaped by one's own background and openness to facing difficult realities. Both Passmore's contemporary, colorful and engaging art, as well as a natural, organic, writing styles combine to craft a dialogue that resonates for the reader looking to engage. At the risk of sounding like that white friend that Passmore astutely suggests "express their undying enthusiasm for 'Black Lives Matter," Passmore objectively illustrates (in words and pictures) the self-defeating thoughts by many sides of the conversation that result in meaningful communication failing before it begins.

As a 49 year-old, white male reader auditing my own experience, Passmore has me pegged. In doing so he has my attention. The missteps Passmore presents, I think, are not intended to further deepen the white guilt that he astutely notes as problematic, but rather to prompt these moments of genuine reflection. For example, as a high school teacher of a primarily white student body with a (thankfully) growing level of diversity, I do find myself sliding into 'black' presentations thoughtlessly." This is a mistake, as Passmore notes I may have been "totally unaware of." I am now.

So where does this take us? As Passmore shows in the closing pages of his essay, which mirror the events in the open, often it seems to leave us as a community and culture right where we were in the first place. In between the framing device, Passmore opines insightfully, but the commentary appears to ultimately have little impact. At the end of the day, the "nicely dressed white woman" with the "Eat, Pray, Love vibe" and the white friend reading a Yoga Book remain peacefully blind (and mute).

Oddly this reminds me of my past experiences at school district opening days. Annually, teachers start the school year with a tremendous presentation preceded by "professional development" attended by a small group of administrators and select teacher-types. The entire district takes two hours before students arrive for the school year, to set the theme for the year to follows. Smaller building level trainings are sprinkled in for the whole body of teachers to participate in... and by June little is meaningfully changed within that system. Briefly though, maybe we feel better about ourselves...

I strongly recommend this graphic essay for all audiences, but especially white folks, well-intentioned or otherwise. I don't know about you, baby, there must be a better way. As the author notes in the panels above, "What white ppl fear most is making things awkward'" and perhaps the first step is accepting the invitation to be awkward.

Summer Reading: The Cursed Earth Uncensored

Cover to 2000 A.D. Prog 85 by Mick McMahon.

Despite Judge Dredd having been part of the comic book culture for the entirety of my collecting life, I've never actually read a comic book featuring the post-apocalyptic law enforcer. Like most, my experience with the character has been limited to the two movie adaptations, the inferior 1995 Judge Dredd starring then-action star Sylvester Stallone and the superior Dredd (2015) featuring Karl Urban.

Cover by artist Brian Bolland.

Even after two Hollywood movies, Judge Dredd remains a mystery. He remains a unique figure in comic books because, though first appearing in issue #2 of 2000 AD (1977), it is possible to understand his motivations without the necessity of reader awareness of an origin story. Without the understanding that Kal-El is the lone surviving alien of a dead culture sent to Earth or that Bruce Wayne saw his parents murdered, those individuals could not become the heroes they are destined to become. Not so with Dredd. Knowing how Dredd became a judge is completely unnecessary; all that one really need to know about Judge Dredd's motivations is captured in both his job title and catchphrase: "I am the Law!"

Last week, I came across an online article that motivated me to pick up a recently published hardcover graphic novel collecting one of Dredd's more popular story lines, The Cursed Earth. Not only does this story arc illustrate the key qualities of its lead character, but it also serves as a legendary historical artifact which, in its entirety, has long been out of circulation. As a result. The Cursed Earth Uncensored, published by 200 A.D., offers insight into what was deemed controversial in the late 1970s, a status achieved here not because of violence, explicit language or sexual content, but due to its potential offense to global corporations.

Postergraph by Bolland featuring Dredd
and two key Cursed Earth secondary
characters, Spikes Harvey Rotten and
Tweak.

The stories collected therein are credited to writers Pat Mills, John Wagner and Chris Lowder with art provided by Mick McMahon and Brian Bolland. Bolland also drew the original 2000 A.D.  covers, each of which is included in a gallery along with some pin-ups, here deemed "Postergraphs". As shared in the Bleeding Cool article which prompted my purchase: "Published in 2000 AD in 1978, The Cursed Earth ... ran into trouble when two episodes – ‘Burger Wars’ and ‘Soul Food’ – featured parodies of Burger King, Ronald McDonald, the Jolly Green Giant, the Michelin Man, and a number of other prominent corporate characters in a raucous and shameless satire of American consumer culture. After concerns of legal action at the time the then publisher IPC decided collections of this classic strip would omit the satirical stories." Until now.

Suitably, as a "satire of American consumer culture," the story relies on a timeless American literary trope for structure, the road trip. The narrative context of our hero's journey across the radioactive region of America that separates Mega City One and Mega City Two on the West Coast, the eponymous "Cursed Earth", is Dredd's mission to transport an important vaccine from One to the other. Because the original source of the story, 2000 A.D., is an anthology each of the 25 episodic chapters is only 6-8 pages in length. Only the covers and splash pages are colored, resulting a story visually told in black and white.

Among those joining Dredd on his mission of mercy are criminal punk biker Spikes Harvey Rotten and Judge Jack, who are later joined by Tweak, a seemingly unintelligent rock-eater from another planet with a secret. While Dredd is clearly at the center of the story, these three secondary actors each have individual character arcs. The most dynamic of these are the stories of Spikes Harvey Rotton and Tweak, whose fates become intertwined as the crew makes its way across the Cursed Earth.

From Chapter 11 written by
Pat Mills with art by
Mike McMahon.

On their journey, Dredd and his crew become embroiled in a series of conflicts with a menagerie of characters. Among these are a pack of post-apocalyptic dinosaurs led by the vicious tyrannosaurus named Satanus, murderous robots ("meks") left over from a bygone age programmed to destroy all Judges, and the aforementioned, controversial Burger Gangs, led by Ronald MacDonald and the Burger King. Through each adventure, Dredd remains steadfast in his goal, but is always willing to deviate in the interest of upholding his guiding principle of law and order. By returning to the core of the character, each of the three writers take advantage of the opportunity to further reinforce the humanity behind the helmet as Dredd often course-corrects his comrades desires to simply move one from the problem. Despite his willingness to violently uphold the law, it is clear that Dredd is a good man who seeks to see the law as he sees it equitably distributed to everyone regardless of their status (or state of mutation).

Even more than the controversial chapters that have been returned to their places in this uncensored edition, this character trait that most subtly satirizes the American culture. While the once "lost" battles between Dredd and Colonel Sanders doppelganger Doctor Gribbons, Ronald MacDonald and the Burger King take overt shots at consumerism, the smaller moments better reinforce the point. The value of The Cursed Earth is perhaps clarified on some level through these stories inclusion, but the power of the satire is not necessarily diminished through their priro exclusion.

Judge Dredd, The Cursed Earth Uncensored is a beautiful hardcover collection with a new introduction by two of the original writers and a gallery of covers and Postergraphs. While not inexpensive at $35 U.S., it is certainly worth the price for those interested in banned books, post-apocalyptic science-fiction or satire. As an introduction to the world of Judge Dredd, this collection is a strong, effective primer.

'Nuff Read: Friends with Boys

One of the many refreshing things about this young adult graphic
novel is that the "friends" of the title are protagonist Maggie's brothers.

A good library is one that is full of surprises. Recently, while monitoring my students as they took the distinct mandated Student Reading Inventory online in our school's Library/Center, I discovered my most recent surprise among the stacks. In the past ten years or so, our school library, much like the public libraries in our larger community, have seen an increase the number of graphic novels available for borrowing. Fortunately, the "surprise" wasn't the presence of graphic novels as a genre on the shelf, but rather the fact that a specific creator's work had been made available.

While initially most of the offerings were hackneyed classic adaptations of now familiar novels, such as The Hobbit, in addition to random manga, shelves are now littered with more familiar comic book fare. Spider-man and Walking Dead trades (collections of previously published single-issue story arcs) are easily available to those who have a passing familiarity with the characters based upon popular media iterations such as television show and blockbuster movies.

Understandably it is "familiarity" which in large part dictates just what titles libraries can spend invaluable financial resources on (if there is no demand for a title, it doesn't make much sense to purchase it to collect dust on a shelf), I was once again pleasantly surprised to notice a title on the shelf which, though familiar to me given my status as a "comic fanboy." It was a very pleasant surprise to see Faith Erin Hicks Friends With Boys tucked (out of order) within close proximity to a past surprise, Andy Runton's Owly.

Not surprisingly, Maggie's
absent mother looms large.

Friends With Boys is a full length semi-autobiographical full-length graphic novel by the Eisner award-winning Faith Erin Hicks. Though initially available online as a web-comic just prior to publication in 2012, I only became aware of Hicks' graphic novel after thoroughly enjoying her work in both the Dark Horse mini-series, The Last of Us. (2013) and 2014 Free Comic Book Day offering Avatar The Last Airbender.

Home-schooled her whole childhood, Maggie's first day of traditional high school is just a little scary. If that is not stressful enough, until this point in her life, Maggie's friendships have consisted primarily of the strong bond she shares with her brothers. When Maggie does begin a nascent friendship with another Lucy ("the first girl [she] can remember being friends with'"), the dialogue gets real quickly. Though our protagonist is a high school freshman, the interactions ring true universally. Yes, this is clearly a YA (Young Adult) graphic novel, but even as a 40+ year old male, Hicks' writing has a truthfulness to it for any who have been challenged with connecting with others, especially within an otherwise isolating life. As compelling as these plot points are, they do not begin to scratch the surface of the dense characterization put forth in this small volume wherein not a panel or word balloon doesn't contribute.

Ghost in the graveyard.

As the story develops in an increasingly supernatural direction with the addition of ghosts, graveyards and a pirate's prosthetic hand, I could not help but be reminded of the magical realism genre my class has been working with the past week in English class. Hicks' deftly develops another connection that Maggie and Lucy also have in common: a fascination with a local gravestone ("Not just a gravestone but the gravestone") and the ghost that periodically floats in and out of Maggie's childhood. From early on in Friends with Boys, the reader is introduced to Maggie's silent, floating friend. In the context of the real-world setting of our story, Maggie, and as she finds  as well as others, accept the spirit's existence as relatively normal aspect of her life (a fact that, as she comes to learn, is shared by others).

When I return Friends with Boys to the library at the start of the school day on Monday, I hope it continues to find an audience among the students at my high school. While one of my classes will soon begin a study of Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis in the coming weeks, too few students (and even more misinformed adult-types) have accepted the societal conditioning that poo-poos the graphic novel. I will continue to promote the graphic novel genre as a worthy one, and fortunately my cause becomes easier to argue thanks to accessible, meaningful young adult lit such as Friends with Boys.

Comic Bookshelf: March: Book One

The opening scene in March written by John Lewis and Andrew Aydin
with art by Nate Powell.

Though we have only been back to classes for two weeks, and that on the heels of of a two week Winter Break, today is Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, which of course means no school. Last week, in anticipation of the long weekend, when I reminded students that we would be out of class today, they were naturally excited. Sadly, those who have arguably been most positively impacted by the work of Dr. King and his contemporaries were completely unaware as to the reason for the day off. In many ways, despite good intentions many of us lose sight of the reason for recognizing the achievements of Dr. King. This may because we (and more reasonably, high school students) tend to think in the here-and-now, with little practical connection to our national history.

Occasionally, popular media reminds us of the steps that have been taken thus far, and those strides that are still being attempted, however stilted the gait, toward racial equality. One such powerful reminder that I recall picking up two years ago was the very successful, and honored, graphic novel, March written by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin with art by Eisner Award-winning illustrator Nate Powell.

March: Book One, published by Top Shelf Productions, is the first of a planned trilogy of graphic novels following the life and career of Civil Rights activist and United States Congressman John Lewis (GA, Fifth Congressional District). As the only living member of the "Big Six", Lewis's perspective is unique given his activities on behalf of Civil Rights, including the personal challenges he faced in rising from humble beginnings. Though he ultimately reached elected office and was present at the inauguration of our nation's first African-American president, it was Lewis presence at Edmund Pettus Bridge outside Selma, Alabama, on March 7.

Transition to Lewis' humble
beginnings (page 7).

Much more than a retelling of Congressman Lewis's life, March takes us through multiple historical moments during the Civil Rights Movements. Deftly moving from time period to time period, the storytelling structure allows the reader to experience both the "big" recognizable historical moments as well as the smaller, less publicized interactions with his moments that reflect Lewis personal commitment to continuing the work begun in Selma.

page 73

Though the story told is not new, the graphic novel format employed here is. While the story of Lewis's rise from sharecropper's son to U.S. Congressman has been previously told in his autobiography, Walking with the Wind (1998), Nate Powell's beautiful artwork gives added heft and weight to the visual orientated culture of today. In alternatively soft and stark blacks, whites and grays, Powell creatively uses both panels and wide splash pages to keep the kinetic energy of Lewis's life moving forward in a manner that engages and educates.

One of the challenges of commenting on such widely reviewed works such as March: Book One is that, in most cases, others have already done so in a way that better explains the work's value. If you need further convincing of March: Book One's effectiveness as either an educational tool or quality reading experience, here are a few choice reviews from websites I frequent:

• The Comics Journal Review by Robert Kirby (October 23, 2013)
• Comic Book Resources  Review by Jim Johnson (August 14th, 2013)
• NY Times Sunday Book Review by Ken Tucker (November 21, 2013)

March: Book One is deserving of consideration for reasons both artistic and educational, much as Art Spiegelman's Maus: A Survivor's Tale has (rightly) become the "go-to" graphic novel for high school approved book lists and libraries. Just as Maus has been successful in both connecting the horrors of the holocaust with modern readers (and extending the genre's acceptability by educators), March has the potential  to reframe in an accessible way for young readers the hardships, triumphs and individual contributions of those involved in the Civil Rights movement.

The follow up volume, March: Book Two, will be released in book stores tomorrow.

Comic Bookshelf: Royal Blood (2014)

Knights of Christendom making a Prince & the Pauper style switch (page 10).

The sword-and-sorcery fantasy comic book is far from dead. In fact, it has seen something of a revival thanks to the re-emergence of old stars Conan and Red Sonja in series from Dark Horse Comics, combined with newer independent titles such Image Comics' Rat Queens and Helheim from Oni Press, not too forget an ongoing adaptation of George R. R. Martin's Game of Thrones from Dynamite Publishing.

While not the first graphic novel I've read by ionic Chilean-French filmmaker, and frequent dabbler in the sequential art medium, Alejandro Jodorowsky, Royal Blood is the first that was purchased and consumed immediately following it's American release. Very different in tone from my previous Jodorowsky reading experience, the neo-western Bouncer: Cain's Eye (reviewed here), Royal Blood also offers a decidedly different visual take, thanks primarily to the artwork from Chinese artist Dongzi Liu.

The "eccentric" storytelling most film fans are familiar with from the avant-garde Jodorowsky remains. Having seen his "acid Western" El Topo (1970), I knew to expect a level of philosophical and sexual subtext and Royal Blood delivers though with some inconsistency. No taboo is safe. As rendered by Lui's fantastic artwork and editorial choices as to what to depict visually, and that which is better left off-panel, the gritty tale of royal betrayal, amnesia, and incest is as elegantly portrayed as could be expected given the content. There was quite a bit to take in visually, due to Liu's beautifully rendered panels, but as a narrative, I had difficulty finding a character with which to empathize for more than 3-4 pages at a time.

In Joffrey-esque fashion young Prince Rador is revealed to be knd of a jerk (page 27).

In a story that is not nearly as taboo as it might have seemed prior to the mainstream success of the aforementioned Game of Thrones novels and cable show, Royal Blood follows King Alvar's loss of his kingdom and eventual quest to regain his stolen throne. It is a weird place in fantasy literature when incest (thanks to GoT?) is somehow so old-hat that a writer needs to up the ante to such extremes as Jodorowsky does here, in an effort to shock. Of course, Jodorowsky does "shock" as well as anyone, so if one incestuous relationship doesn't surprise, how about the suggestion of two?

Jodorwosky seems to have an awareness of this, as he includes a throwaway line in a ghostly monologue that ameliorates the impact of the on-panel incestuous pairing, while the second is merely suggested. Perhaps mutilation is the new taboo. Jodorowsky raises the stakes by putting his character through no less than three individual acts of mutilation., ranging from the commonplace (guess what happens to those whop talk too much?) to an act of self-mutilation on the part of the "protagonist" intended to ensure he has no more children.

Royal Blood is most definitely not an all-ages book and certainly not for the squeamish, though the art is so darn lovely...

It really is much easier to validate a marriage to your daughter if her bear agrees to serve
as the maid-of-honor when your king (page 49).

Despite the handsome artwork, and execution of fairly common narrative tropes, the challenge continues to be actually caring about any of the characters involved. As the primary character, noble King Aldar is just about to receive a level of sympathy from the reader, his characterization takes a turn for the worse by belittling and humiliating the woman who saved him. As one begins to empathize with her plight she reveals information that lessens her morel character too. And so it goes, each character throwing away any empathy afforded them by the reader until there is no one left to root for. I'll be darned though if I didn't find a level of an enjoyment in reading Royal Blood, enough so that I read it again a few days later.

Rador's sadism takes a very unnerving turn (page 63).

Coming in at 112 pages, the quality of the hard cover packaging of this novel, published by Titan Comics is impressive. As, for all intent and purpose, a stand-alone comic book issue, the paper quality, and binding are top notch. I've come to learn when purchasing graphic novels of this nature that the $16.99 price tag is very reasonable, especially given the high level of re-readability of the story. And that artwork... wow. Whereas, the 16 year-old fanboy in me would have balked at such a price for a single issue, the 45 year-old reader ordered it from his local comic shop sight unseen. Though I felt the storytelling and characterization was inconsistent, on Jodorowsky's name alone, and based on a few preview pages online was a no-brainer that, in terms of entertainment value, paid off.

While Alvar is not haunted by his wife/daughter's mother, Batia,
 she does appear frequently to laugh at his (many) misfortunes (page 86).

Comic Bookshelf: The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil

Don't let these terrible scans dissuade you from reading Collins' excellent Beard book.

More and more frequently the books I purchase for pleasure are those that fall into the graphic novel genre. Yes, I have read "comic books" for the overwhelming majority of my life, but it is only within the last year that I have begun committing financial resources to the purchase of graphic novels. While trolling a comic book review site recently, I came across The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil by Stephen Collins.

Dave, the story's protagonist,
goes about his hairless,
repetitive life...

When you seek this title out, stay away from any water cooler analysis provided by hipster bookstore employees who will describe the graphic novel (as it was in the "Employees Choices" shelf at my local bookstore) as "Burton-esque," as in filmmaker Tim Burton. Any credibility that type of witty endorsement might have carried a decade ago severely downplays how good this book actually is. After reading Gigantic Beard,  a  more worthy comparison might be made to the better known works of George Orwell and Aldous Huxley.

... until all "hair" breaks
loose, that is!

With a dry British temperament, Collins has crafted an allegory for much of what troubles society today: a strict adherence to a clean, shiny conformity and the vilification of people and places that qualify as "the other."

Our (almost entirely) hairless protagonist, Dave, is the unlikely bearer of the unruly facial hair of the title. He, and seemingly the entire population of his hometown on the island Here, live extremely structured lives filled with antiseptic environments and repetitive hobbies (for example, Dave sits and draws the same location daily... every. single. day). Interestingly though, Here is not devoid of creative outlets, though they too are generic and structured. In addition to Dave's aforementioned past time, there are construction workers, engineers and hair stylists who each demonstrate level of creativity and are ultimately drawn into a variety of possible resolutions to the aftermath of the Gigantic Beard event.

Part fable and part fairy
tale, Gigantic Beard
is all engaging!

Without giving too much more of the plot away, the creative black and white artwork establishes and reinforces the dystopian (though that might not be just the right adjective--"bland" is more accurate) setting, and a mix of traditional and unique panel designs give Collins-as-visual-storyteller plenty of opportunity to shine. The combination of words and pictures work cooperatively to reveal a crisp narrative style that leaves the reader (intentionally, I suspect) with questions that can only be answered from his or her individual perspective.

The Gigantic Beard That Was Evil by Stephen Collin is a great example of just why I have become so smitten with the genre: it offers a good message, in a unique format, and (Most importantly) is highly re-readable. Very reasonably priced at $20 (if you buy regular comic books you'll know why that is a great price), it is a volume that I look forward to returning to myself, in addition to sharing with my younger charges, both the students I teach and my own children.

Comic Bookshelf: Queen Crab (2012)

Part horror, part romance and part sci-fi, Queen Crab by Palmiotti and
artist Artiz Eiguren is an all-engaging mature graphic novel.

With crab-handed characters making a comeback of sorts with the popularity of actor Evan Peters' Jimmy Darling on American Horror Story: Freak Show, now seems like a good time to briefly revisit the awesomeness of Jimmy Palmiotti's 2012 offering, Queen Crab.

Released as a slim, hard-covered graphic novel in 2012 by Image Comics, Queen Crab represents long time collaborative writer Palmiotti's initial foray into solo writing. After having been a long time fan of his work on the two most recent Jonah Hex series from DC (among other titles on which he's written), investing on a very reasonably priced $12.99 graphic novel was not much of a leap.

With thematic beats from sources ranging from Kafka's Metamorphosis to any number of jilted-lover romance novels, Queen Crab tells of the figurative and very literal transformation of protagonist Ginger. If the premise rings of your standard comic book origin story, the execution reflects a much more grounded and mature introduction to a promising character. While adjectives "grounded" and "mature" as comic book/movie descriptors have lost their luster in a time when nearly every such product attempts to be more grounded, and mature and financially successful than Christopher Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy, here the smaller, more personal scope of the conflict keeps the story from being overwrought with its own sense of self-importance.

The suggestive cover and titillating pin-ups included as extras by other artists not withstanding, Artiz Eiguren's artwork stays away from the cheesecake. Employing a visual style that veers away from a more traditional comic-book characterization of both Ginger's figure and transformation, Eiguren's art effectively evokes a horror vibe. With a color palette reminiscent of Richard Corben's recent Poe adaptations for Dark Horse Publishing, and with an overall style similar to that of Avatar Press star Jacen Burrows (The Courtyard and Neonomicon), the artwork blends three genres (romance/horror/sci-fi) into a single well-constructed tale.

The story is familiar: Ginger is getting married, and (surprise, surprise!) she is marrying the wrong guy. So wrong, in fact, that on their honeymoon, he attempts to murder Ginger by casting her overboard the cruise ship they are celebrating on. As her body sinks to the briny depths, something happens...

Beware blue underwater light shows!

The result of Ginger's underwater face-to-face with a blue light show are some impressive and unusual body modifications, as well as a desire for revenge. Soon after catching up with her husband the story jumps two years ahead when Ginger's former best friend and romantic friend-with-benefits from early on finally catch up with her in Florida. Rather than going the superhero route with her new talents, Ginger chooses to blend in, joining an aquatic show, in an effort to lead a semi-regular life. While not quite in a freak show, Ginger's occupation does seem permissible in the real world setting, as one that would allow her to exist without drawing undue attention to her situation.

I've reread Queen Crab a number of times since it found it's way to my comic bookshelf, and, as mentioned earlier, as a character worthy of further exploration, Ginger has promise. I also hope Palmiotti does not write a sequel. Not because I wouldn't buy, and very likely enjoy, it, but the themes and open-ended possibilities are better reflected by a natural next step for the character that remains only inn our imagination. We, the reader, don't know what comes next, though we do realize that Ginger has embarked on a great adventure. It would be just too obvious (and traditional) for us to be privy to where that adventure takes her. Sometimes a single experience with a strong character who's arc is completed by being incomplete just rings truer than the over the top explanations that would come along with more background and a sequel.

Comic Bookshelf: The Influencing Machine (2012)

 From "The Golden Age of Objectivity,"
page 115.

Too many books, too little time. Despite having a number of literary irons in the fire (The Lone Ranger Goes North, Short Nights of the Shadow Catcher, to name a few), the final book I read as my summer break drew to a close over a month ago was one which was recommended to me by a former star student, Tom. The Influencing Machine (2012), written by Brooke Gladstone and illustrated by Josh Neufeld, was assigned as his freshman read prior to arriving at American University in September. His suggestion was based in equal parts on both my prior role as his AP Composition and Language teacher and appreciation of comic books graphic novels.

Illustrated in clean black-and-white (with baby blue accents) panels drawn by Josh Neufeld, The Influencing Machine is an engaging graphic novel detailing the ever-evolving ways in which information flows. The emphasis here is on information as "news," though concepts are applicable to broader arenas. Using balanced evidence, and an impartial voice, author (and NPR journalist) Gladstone deftly moves chronologically from ancient Guatemala to award-winning journalist Robert Wright, filling in gaps with a who's who of journalism including Dan Rather, Edward R. Murrow and Albert Camus.

Through examples from a variety of historic touchstones in which communication, or lack thereof, plays a role in impacting the American perception of events, Gladstone demonstrates how those in control of information's flow are capable of shaping the message in an effort to have it reflect there own best interests. The majority of scenarios shared by Gladstone are large scale efforts that are fairly common to anyone with even a superficial understanding of history, most notably (and perhaps obviously) the Vietnam and Iraq Wars. Gladstone reinforces the familiar with anecdotes from scientists (like those at the Max Planck Institute), journalists (George Seldes) and others that offer a variety of perspectives on the "machine."

From "The Goldilocks Number," page 51.

Along the way, Gladstone and Neufeld lay out concepts, such as the Goldilocks Number (left), that aid the reader's comprehension of numerous abstract theories in concrete use. As I read, I found myself post-it noting numerous pages worthy of further review. I also found myself wishing that the authors had taken some of these impressive ideas regarding communication and reduced the scale of consideration to a more personal level. It occurred to me that many of the fascinating concepts regarding the modern transmission of news are also worthy of consideration as they relate to interpersonal communication. It was these ideas that I set aside for later cherry-picking in future classes.

A thought came to me as I read: each year, educators at our school will suggest the offering of a media literacy course. Whether due to a lack of awareness of potential resources such as The Influencing Machine, or because there are secondary agendas at play, in application, these "courses" often become opportunities to inform on the evils of social networking. One of the things Gladstone and Neufeld do very well with their tome is illustrate (ugh!) the roles we has senders and receivers of information have in either objectively pursuing our own answers to questions or in questioning the answer we are given. If this doesn't get to the heart of media literacy, or rhetoric, than I'm unsure what does.

In an educational climate that promises to seek making high school students "college and career ready," you need look no further than the author's own reasoning as to why The Influencing Machine as suggested in an interview with NPR: "I wrote a 2,000-year history of the media and a manifesto as to why it is the way it is and what one needs to do to make it be the way we want it to be — all in panels, about 160 pages, 2,000 years and tons and tons and tons of end notes. And I think it's because it's so compressed. It's a useful book, because every chapter, rather than completing the discussion, is kind of a launch for discussion, because you really have to say things in very, very few words."

An accessible read recommended for news junkies, educators and those hoping to see the message both shaped and authentic.

Comic Bookshelf: Young Blueberry 2

Though we pick up Young Lt. Blueberry's story in progress, it
does read well as a stand-alone, too.

With DC Comics' All-Star Western starring Jonah Hex facing imminent cancellation and Dynamite Publishing's solid Lone Ranger series having recently ridden off into the sunset, the traditional Western is once again becoming something of a rarity on the new comic book table. This is unfortunate as, while not many Westerns are currently being offered by readily accessible mainstream publishers, my thirst for them remains unquenched.

So like a thirsty fanboy, I have found myself digging through the online back issue bins in search of something along the lines of dusty trails and two-gun action. As fate (and fortuitous availability) would have it, I came across an English translation published by Comcat Comics in 1990 of a French graphic novel first published in 1969. Talk about a roundabout way to get at graphic novel with an Old West setting!

Young Blueberry 2: A Yankee Named Blueberry is written by Jean-Michael Charlier with art by a young Jean (Moebius/Gir) Giraud. The second in a series of English translations, this particular volume collects chapters 4 through 6 of the creative team's original story. While a fan of Moebius' more contemporary science-fiction works (such as the Eisner award-winning Marvel's Silver Surfer: Parable mini from 1988), my only previous engagement with the Lt. Blueberry character is through the mystic-Western film Renegade (2004) starring Vincent Cassel, based on the graphic novels featuring a more world-weary iteration of him.

Written as part of a larger tapestry of stories providing background for the already popular character, I had access to only the single second volume. Because of this, I read Young Blueberry 2: A Yankee Named Blueberry as an isolated adventure without the benefit of previous characterization.

Despite this disadvantage, this collection worked fine as a singular traditional adventure of Rebs and Yankees during the Civil War. Picking up "three days after successfully completing a mission" behind enemy lines, Blueberry, at this point in his military career described as being "primarily a bugler," attempts to rejoin his Yankee squadron. The first two chapters, "Death Ride" and "Man Hunt" tell the story of Blueberry's efforts to return to his squadron as well as his being hunted by an adversary introduced (I assume) in the previous volume. What follows is a tale of mistaken identity and unclear alliances wherein Blueberry finds himself once again thrust into a dangerous mission requiring he play both sides of the war.

The final chapter in the album, "Private Mike S. Blueberry", finds our protagonist still caught between the Rebs and Yankees. Given what has preceded, Blueberry is forced to prove his allegiance to the Blue Coats. (Apparently the mission that set all of this in motion was a mission so secret, no one knew that he was in fact a Blue Coat infiltrating the Confederacy ranks.) While the conclusion of this volume finds Blueberry successfully foiling the Confederacy's plans, he is also in pretty much the same predicament as at the onset: trapped behind enemy lines unable to prove his allegiance to either side.

Blueberry's character, as written by Charlier  is easily discernible without having read what preceded, especially as he is presented as an archetypal soldier, if only slightly more conscientious, attempting to fulfill his patriotic duties while staying alive. Because of this, there is always a level of narrative tension at play that allows our main character to consistently reveal (or reinforce) the traits to the reader. Within the context of a larger story, though, I could see this continuous plot strategy becoming somewhat repetitive.

This is also not the Moebius artwork of which I am familiar. Lacking the graceful clean lines and huge vistas of his later work (including the aforementioned Silver Surfer series), this Moebius is more constrained as the "camera" is pulled in tightly. According to the brief forward, the panels were also originally published in black and white, and were colored and reformatted for this edition, which may impact my reading of the art. There are, however, a few hints of the artist's style as it will eventually develop, particularly in the closing panels which feature a massive train derailment (one panel of which is spoiled on the  back cover).

Based on the level of difficulty that exists with acquiring Moebius books, even reprints such as this, with any degree of affordability, I am unsure when I might have the opportunity to take in any further adventures of Lt. Blueberry. My guess would be that some used bookstores or older local comic shops might have some hiding on their bookshelves. Some public libraries might also have a few in the Graphic Novels section. Should my travels bring me across additional editions, I would definitely continue following the adventures of Lt. Blueberry.

Comic Bookshelf: Owly, Vol.1

Owly from "The Way Home," written and drawn by Andy Runton.

I am frequently reminding my students the value of reading novels and magazines outside their comfort zones as a means of expanding and diversifying their reading experiences. Once in a while I even take my own advice. Though I have occasionally dabbled in reading and collecting all-ages comic books (most notably The Intrepid Escapegoat), of late not too much has appealed to my inner child enough to warrant a buy. That is, until I came across a few panels of Owly online and requested my local comic shop to procure a copy of his earliest published adventures, Owly, Vol. 1 by Andy Runton, the first collection of the character's stories published by Top Shelf Productions.

Owly is a kind, yet lonely, little owl who's always on the lookout for new friends and adventure. The first volume in the series contains two stories, "The Way Home" and "The Bittersweet Summer," wherein Owly discovers the meaning of friendship, and that saying goodbye doesn't always mean forever. Owly's stories are unique in that his adventures are wordless (silent) and, at least in this early volume, in black and white. The only "verbal" interaction between characters taking place are in rare, brief word balloon enclosed pictographs (as in the panels below to the right).

This emphasis on symbols and expressive character actions to move the narrative forward showcases Runton considerable (and appealing) storytelling skills. Unusual among such comic strip style comic books, the depth of characterization also lends Owly to a surprising level of re-readability, a quality most comic books in general often lack. As one migth expect, each of Owly's adventures reinforces some appropriate attributes about the nature of friendship and loss--themes that while certainly appropriate for an all-ages book are not to be dismissed as necessary for hardened adult readers to be reminded of too. Lack of awareness of Owly is a case of bad fanboy form on my part as the Owly series has earned Runton quite a bit of recognition in the comics and graphic novel community, including a Harvey and Eisner Award.

From "The Bittersweet Summer."

The first story in this graphic novel, "The Way Home", introduces Owly as a sweet and caring soul who inexplicably has difficulty making friends with other birds. This inability to be accepted by his own kind does not however preclude Owly from assisting a down-on-his-luck worm, suitably named Wormy, who has been separated from his family. As Owly helps Wormy find his family, a friendship develops with a moving resolution. (SPOILER: It is clear from the covers of other Owly books that he and Wormy remain close comrades.)

The second story,"The Bittersweet Summer," shows Owly and Wormy seeking to extend their circle of friends, this time with a pair of hummingbirds. Of course, when summer ends, the hummingbirds leave, until... I won't ruin it for you, but I can only imagine the conversation shared with parents reading this with younger readers regarding the definition of "bittersweet." Tiny gateways, such as this well placed word, to both visual and vocabulary literacy abound throughout both stories.

Beginning with the collection's dedication to Runton's mother, who "brought the joy of little birds into [his] life", the author's appreciation of nature and birds is clear. Subtle nods to observable bird behaviors echo through the stories in such a way as (I would reckon) to influence some to stop and watch the trees and skies for the same sort of nuanced expressive actions shared by Owly. Perhaps as a result of Runton's selected storytelling conventions (silent, black and white), the whole product is illustrative of the idea that less is more, from the images to the nuanced actions of the anthropomorphic characters.

Reasonably priced at $10 a volume, the Owly series, including Owly, Vol. 1: The Way Home and The Bittersweet Summer, are available at most excellent local comic shops. Highly recommended for all ages, but especially for those with younger children or the fanboy with a slightly hardened heart.

Comic Bookshelf: Noah (2014)

Aronofsky's Noah makes some difficult choices
 in an effort to achieve his purpose.

The cover to Noah.

Publisher: Image Comics
Writers: Darren Aronofsky and Ari Handel
Illustrator: Nico Henrichon
Letterer: Nicholas Senegas
Price: $29.99

In recent months I've found myself reading more mini-series and graphic novels with insular narratives. As a result my comic bookshelf has grown as my comic book pull sheet has fluctuated. Graphic novels, in-particular, offer a unique opportunity to the reader to go in recognizing that in all likelihood (barring a sequel) the worlds they enter and the story being told, will conclude at the book's end.

Filmmaker Darren Aronofsky has dabbled in the form before. Previously, when his film 2006 movie The Fountain was released in theaters, a graphic novel adaptation of his original script, including some plot elements that did not make it into the movie, was published by Vertigo. A few weeks ago, to coincide with the  big screen release of Noah (2014), starring Russell Crowe, Image Comics released a deluxe edition, hardcover graphic novel based on Aronofsky's script. While this was not originally on my "must read" list, after coming across some Nico Henrichon sketches from the book, I asked by local comic shop to order one for me.

Huge in scope and detailed in execution.

Having not seen the movie, I can only review the book Noah on its own merits. The artwork is clearly not created with the actors involved as models, and for a story of this nature that proves a good thing. Detail in execution with an almost watercolor like quality to the coloring, Noah reveals itself like a complex series of storyboards with a heavy emphasis on storytelling visuals. The dialogue that is present serves only to offer exposition, as the artwork clearly communicates the large action set pieces depicted.

As characterized by the writers and artists involved, this Noah is a much more shamanistic in appearance and action than the one most will recall from the Old Testament. In truth, the Biblical basis for the character offers little more than thin story devoid of much beyond a superficial character outline, so by necessity, Aronofsky is tasked with creating more three-dimensional character, complete with a denser backstory. In addition to borrowing obvious plot beats from the Bible, the backstory adds what seems logical (?) and sensible suggestions as to our protagonist's motivations behind building the ark and how the ark's construction comes to pass.

Two-by-two, the animal kingdom aids Noah...

Make no mistake though, as the back of the book reminds the reader, this is a work of "Fantasy/Mythology," albeit it one unafraid to build the myth using pieces alluded to in biblical text. An effort to marry the fantastic and religious elements through the use of scriptural quotes to reinforce the artists' interpretation of the stories (including Creation), put forth therein.

At $29.99, Noah is not inexpensive, but the high quality of its presentation and the clear energy and effort on display does make it a highly re-readable book. Unlike some more disposable entertainment product out there (most books, DVDs, and comic-book tie-ins), I am certain find myself revisiting Aronofsky, Handel and Henrichon's Noah. Even better I look forward to sharing my copy and recommending the purchase of this beautiful book with others.

Rating: 5/5