7.30.08 Review (Singular)
I don't think I can ever remember a time that my weekly purchase amounted to a single floppy issue. The combination of the post-con lull and more selective buying habits must have finally done it...
Thirteen Minutes focused on weekly reviews of Creator-Owned Comics from 2005 to 2015. Critic @ Poopsheet Foundation 2009-2014. Critic @ Comics Bulletin 2013-2016. Freelance Writer/Editor @ DC/Vertigo, Stela, Madefire, Image Comics, Dark Horse, Boom! Studios, and Studio 12-7 from 2012-Present. Follow @ThirteenMinutes
I don't think I can ever remember a time that my weekly purchase amounted to a single floppy issue. The combination of the post-con lull and more selective buying habits must have finally done it...
Ah, where to begin. This one was a little bittersweet. Rather than regale you with tales of my adventures through numerous panels, after parties, conversations with creators and publishers, and all of the high falutin’ spectacle, I thought I’d concentrate instead on the two most prevalent themes I encountered. Those trends basically lead right into the intent and primary content of this post. There were indeed highlights, but it was a very lackluster experience; even the Eisner Awards felt predictable and safe. When Brian K. Vaughan and Y: The Last Man are winning, instead of Jason Aaron on Scalped or Brian Wood and his amazing body of work, it disturbs me. Not that there’s anything wrong with BKV and Y, that’s a fine title, not picking on him per se – it’s just makes the ceremony a little rote. I mean, does anyone really think Meltzer’s JLA #11 was the best single issue last year? Really?! I know the awards are influenced heavily by the nominations and personal taste of the rotating judging panel, but how many comics did those people actually read? It’s an ok issue, but for my money there’s dozens more qualified single issues. I can only watch James Jean win for the same category so many times. I’d prefer to have more innovation and an edgier quality recognized. Of course, that’s just my personal taste, your mileage may vary, but it all did have me asking… do I need to even go next year? Could I get by with just one day instead of all four? Would LA or Chicago be a better show for me?
This will sound strangely familiar, but my San Diego Comic Con International schedule this week just isn't going to allow me the time to digest the material and post reviews. My unofficial Convention activities already started Monday afternoon with tours of the museum I work at for visiting friends and isn't going to let up from there. Regular reviews should return next week; in the interim, here's what I plan on picking up this week...
My travel schedule this week simply isn't going to allow for reviews of new books, but here's what I plan on picking up...
Invincible Iron Man #3 (Marvel): Fraction and Larroca deliver some amazing opening visuals with Tony suiting up as he's being engulfed in flames. This book hums gleefully along with such a palpable sheer joy of storytelling and excitement from the creators that it's downright infectious. I love the infusion of geopolitics and legal issues, crafting the Son of Stane as a brilliant character foil to Tony, and the ways it dovetails so nicely into the recent film. The traumatic nature of Pepper's injuries dredges up painful memories of Tony's own "secret origin." The subtely with which this dynamic is played is perfect, with quiet and effective lines like "yeah" and "I know" in response to some of the doctor's status updates. This is shaping up to be one of the best Iron Man runs around, up there with Ellis' Extremis arc. Grade A.
Concatenations: Autobiography in Comics – A Master of Fine Arts Thesis (Elephant Eater): “If words can be literature and images can be art, then why is the combination of the two somehow less than the sum of their parts?” With this statement, Claytor boldly and logically defends the medium from would-be detractors. For me, this eternal defense succinctly solidifies the inclusion of the medium in the elusive world of Fine Art. Concatenations is the republication of Claytor’s Master’s Thesis discussing his thoughts and ideas on autobiographical comics and the larger industry they reside in. In a fashion reminiscent of Scott McCloud, Clayor takes us on an instructive but entertaining journey highlighting the differences between a genre and a medium. He moves on to discuss the idea of reclaiming ownership of “comics” as a term; as it’s swung from relatively simplistic and accurate terminology to the extreme as a perceived pejorative term, with attempts to supplant it by Eisner’s “Graphic Novel” or the Japanese equivalent - Tatsumi’s “gekiga,” Claytor suggests taking it back and infusing it with our own insider value and meaning. I really liked this idea; it’s brilliant and culturally insightful, but it also feels a little subversive, as if we can take this back without anyone even knowing it, an inside joke to those who would use it with a negative connotation. Claytor touches upon several of the elements he feels are necessary to develop an effective autobiographical comic, the principle element being an openness to revel in the imperfect human qualities that largely define our existence and interactions with each other. This appreciation of the imperfect is complimented visually with Claytor’s own hand lettering. One of my favorite sequences involves a comparison to Magritte’s famous work “This is Not a Pipe” to his own “This is Not a Span of Time” as an example of how the gap to Fine Art is, and rightfully should be, narrowing. There are so many parallels presented that it’s hard not to consider it an unspoken given that comics would by their very nature be in the realm of Fine Art. At first glance, it would be easy to think of this as an academic exercise and not a comic per se. True, it is a book about comics, with some comics in it; dense with weighty and academic conceptualization, but it flows with the enjoyable affable ease of someone in love with their job. Ryan Claytor has grown beyond being another interesting self-publisher to the status of important voice, worthy of recognition alongside Eisner and McCloud as one of the shining examples of modern discourse on the medium. Claytor has made autobiographical comics relevant for the 21st century with the perfect balance of soul and intellect. Grade A+.
Astonishing X-Men #25 (Marvel): Warren Ellis and Simone Bianchi’s AXM is really different from the Whedon-Cassaday affair, and I can appreciate both. Rather than reliance on crisp photorealistic art and quippy dialogue with plot lines built around isolated fan-favorite “cool” moments, this team is a bit more subtle and nuanced. The art is darker and less defined; it lends a more subversive feeling that fits well with where the team finds themselves currently, both geographically and philosophically. Even Bianchi’s panel layouts are a bit more experimental than usual and boast a disjointed feel that dovetails nicely into this group's in-flux existence. From a scripting standpoint, Ellis nails the characterization with simple and effective lines like “you have a tendency to self-sabotage” and shows he’s captured the essence of the team, whether it’s the portrayal of the gruffness of Wolverine, eagerness of Hisako, regal stature of Ororo, or the strategist nature of Scott. All in all, a great set up for a markedly new direction with markedly new artistic approaches. Grade A.
Good-Bye (Drawn & Quarterly): D&Q’s third strong offering of Yoshihiro Tatsumi work from 1971-1972 focuses on several tales that involve the disorienting era of post-war Japan. While I don’t believe Tatsumi’s intent was ever to merely shock or titillate, these stories can do just that. They also reveal heartbreaking frustrations and there’s a consistent theme of disillusionment with the little existences that many of the characters manage to eke out for themselves. Their surroundings, their very paradigms for living, ultimately dissolve and are devoid of fulfillment. Tatsumi’s stories in this volume are full of nuance and subtlety. Whether the protagonists’ actions or the events depicted are inherently appealing or not, they exist simply as truth in the lives shown. They’re presented matter-of-factly, without much judgment, and allow the reader to condemn, find small slivers of hope, or ultimately understand the dynamic while exploring some truly foreign concepts. Much of Tatsumi’s “lending library” work (read the Tomine interview) attempted to elevate the form by devising the label of “gekiga” or “dramatic pictures” to counter and disassociate from the “irresponsible pictures” or “manga” at the time. In fact, there is a nice Wiki entry that uses the analogy of Will Eisner pushing hard for the term “graphic novel” to supplant the assumably pejorative nature of the term “comic book.” Neither term really caught on with the mainstream with much gusto. I suspect that Eisner, Tatsumi, and the industry holistically came to realize that there’s more to something than what’s in a calculated name. Tatsumi’s work is full of mature and complex themes, not necessarily just adult content. Similarly, his clean unadorned lines, expressive facial features, and inherent stylistic differences are what sets his work apart visually. Though some of his figures border on caricature, through economy of form he’s able to capture a realism that the bluster and fury of manga, with it’s speed lines and bolded, altering font sizes, simply doesn’t. It’s these story tones and visual cues which provide the distinctions, not the label of “gekiga,” that allow Tatsumi’s work to have been ahead of it’s time as an alternate genre when crafted, and to now truly transcend and endure for an entirely new generation. Grade A.