Flight, Volume 5
Written and Illustrated by JP Ahonen, Graham Annable, Chris Appelhans, Bannister and Grimaldi, Matthew Bernier, Scott Campbell, Svetlana Chmakova, Tony Cliff, Phil Craven, Michel Gagné, Steve Hamaker, Kazu Kibuishi, Kness and Made, Sonny Liew, Reagan Lodge, John Martz, Sarah Mensinga, Ryan North, Richard Pose, Paul Rivoche, Dave Roman, Israel Sanchez, Kean Soo, and Joey Weiser; Edited by Kazu Kibuishi.
Villard Books; $25.00
I’ve got some catching up to do on the Flight series. I read the first one ages ago when it came out, but various other reading obligations prevented my getting Volumes Two through Four. There’s nothing like a free review copy to renew your interest though, and now that I’ve read Volume Five, I very much want to go back and read the ones that I missed.
Volume One was unique and beautiful, but as with most anthologies, not all the stories were successful. At the time, I still thought it was one of the best anthologies I’d ever read, but there was room for improvement. For one thing (whether this was the fault of the book or my own misinterpretation, I’m still not sure) it seemed like every story in Volume One was somehow tied to the theme of flight or flying. At some point since then, I’ve read somewhere that “flight” isn’t the focus of the anthologies anymore, if it ever really was in the first place. So, with Volume Five, I felt freer to just enjoy the stories on their own terms without trying to read a unifying subtext into them. Possibly as a result of that – but possibly as a legitimate increase in quality as the editor and artists have grown and matured – I enjoyed every single story in the latest volume. Certainly some of them affected me more deeply than others, but each of them affected me in some way. I wasn’t tempted to brush off or dismiss any of them. And together, they form a harmonious package that’s absolutely lovely.
The anthology opens with Michel Gagné’s “The Broken Path.” It begins as a beautiful, silent fantasy about the inhabitants of an alien world who are trying to save themselves from an oncoming meteor. The action is easy to follow, even when it involves magic spells and otherworldly solutions to the crisis. But I say it “begins” as a fantasy, because by the end it’s become more than just that. It’s a touching story about sacrifice, gratitude, and love.
Tony Cliff’s “Delilah Dirk and the Aqueduct” is a straightforward adventure story about a swashbuckling woman and her Arab companion on the run from a hostile army who loves to shout, “Curse you, Delilah Dirk!” When Delilah and Selim try to use an aqueduct as cover and/or an escape route, Delilah’s ideas about her role as hero of her own story are challenged. It’s more fun than profound, but there is that element to it as well.
Reagan Lodge’s “The Dragon” is another fantasy adventure with a heart. It’s not manga, but the ideas in it are certainly influenced by that. There’s a wandering warrior-woman who travels with a talking fox as she scouts out a safe passage for her people through evil-robot controlled territory. The concept, designs, and scenery are all very Japanese, but the art and storytelling styles are Western. It’s dark and exciting and awesome. It uses everything that I like about Japanese comics, and none of what I don’t. It also makes great use of the fox character by focusing the story on him and his help – at great risk to himself – in defending people who aren’t much like him.
The most touching story of the book though is Richard Pose’s “Béisbol 2.” It’s about a young boy who goes to a baseball game with two, mean, older brothers. They pick on the youngster for carrying around a baseball and getting it signed by benchwarmers as well as regular players. They also make fun of him for leaving the ball’s sweet spot open for his hero, the notoriously egocentric star player nicknamed the Bopper. The Bopper charges $50 for an autograph unless you’re a good-looking girl. As the day at the park progresses, the little boy has several discouraging experiences that threaten his love for the game. I’ll leave it to you to see what happens, except to say that I read the last panel with a lump in my throat.
Kazu Kibuishi’s “The Courier” is a short piece, but exciting and moving as it uses free running and parachutes to talk about finding meaning in routine tasks.
Sonny Liew’s “Malinky Robot” may be the sweetest story I’ve ever read. I’ve been a big fan of Liew’s work on SLG’s Wonderland series, but I like this even better. It starts off making you giggle, then proceeds directly to breaking your heart in a way you won’t mind at all.
JP Ahonen’s “Worry Dolls” is about an out-of-work actor with relationship problems and the tiny people who are supposed to go into his brain and clear out the anxiety while he sleeps. When something goes wrong, the tiny workers have to take control of his body and hope that no one realizes what’s going on. Even worse, they have to do it without the actor’s waking up or something horrible will happen to them all. The results are very, very funny. It’s hard to pull off slapstick in a comic, but Ahonen does it nicely and ends it with a punch line that works. He also gives it emotional punch by successfully making us care about the actor and his problems.
“Igloo Head and Tree Head in Disguise” by Scott Campbell isn’t as poignant as the other stories, but it makes up for it in laughs. It’s great fun watching the title characters move around in settings decorated by characters like Old Bridge Head, Swimming Pool Head, and Sunbather Head, but the story isn’t all empty sight gags. There’s also some charming social commentary as Igloo Head and Tree Head decide to dress up like Suitcase Head and Rocket Head and infiltrate War Club to prove that yes, tacos are way more delicious than war is fun.
I’m not especially a dog lover (more of a cat person), but Graham Annable’s “Evidence” still made me smile. As I reckon it will with anyone who’s ever been amused by dog antics. Annable captures canine personality exactly in this tale of a naughty dog who’s told not to leave the backyard and it’s oh so cute and charming. Right up to the point where it suddenly turns creepy and disturbing. Genius.
Phil Craven’s “N” is for Ninja. And a totally awesome ninja at that who’s able to use his own sweat as a weapon. “N” is essentially one, long, perfectly choreographed fight between silent opponents: a cute, little, white, flower-smelling ninja on one side, and a gang of mean, red, ambushing ninjas on the other. I read the whole thing just enjoying the fight and thinking there wouldn’t be much more to it than that, until I found out what the fight was all about and, well, let’s just say I had something in my eye and leave it at that.
Sarah Mensinga’s “The Changeling” narrowly beats out “Béisbol 2” as my favorite story in the book. It cheats though by having faeries in it and wonderful, star-crossed lovers and a perfect, perfect ending. And of course by having Mensinga draw it.
It’s followed by my least favorite story: “Mountains” by Matthew Bernier. Bernier is an excellent artist and his depiction of an island surrounded by giant sea creatures is amazing. He’s right up there with Mouse Guard’s David Petersen in his ability to give personality to anatomically perfect animals. Where the story fails though is in having me understand it. It’s about a couple who one day wake up to find the two mountain peaks on their small island gone and their home shrinking as giant lobsters and enormous fish and other colossal sea life eat away at it. The couple worries and debates until the boy comes up with a solution, albeit one that’s terrifying to the girl. Their relationship is really touching, so I enjoyed the story on that level, but I was never clear on exactly what the island was, why it was disappearing, where the sea creatures came from, or what the last panel means.
I also have mixed feelings about “Bigdome: Flowers for Mama” by Paul Rivoche. It’s got some really cool pulp elements like rocket helmets, a flying fortress, and a killer robot. And the action sequences are thrillingly executed. But the whole story is rather mean-spirited as a group of cadets play a cruel joke on a funny-looking and socially awkward classmate. Whether they knew they were sending him into real danger or not is never explained, but even if they were innocent of that, they’re still evil jerks. Not that Bigdome (their mean nickname for him because of the size of his head) is any more likable. He loves his Mama, but he’s too gullible and stupid to allow us to develop any real affection for him. I’m probably thinking way too hard about this one, but since it comes after so many powerful, uplifting stories, my thinking cap was turned on. This would’ve been just fine in another anthology with a different tone, but if feels out of place here.
Dave Roman’s “The Chosen One” is more in line with the rest of the book. Roman’s got a fanciful style that enhances his fantasy about a boy named Scott who wakes up to a bedroom full of animals proclaiming him the Chosen One who – according to animal prophecy – will “save the world from great peril.” They’ve even made him a T-shirt. Roman quickly lets us know that this is no ordinary quest tale though. Scott’s a reluctant, whiney hero, but Roman has more fun with it than just that by using it as a playful commentary on the clichés of typical quest fantasies. And he does it with ghosts, giant keys, cute girls, and telepathic bunnies. And maybe a dragon and a singing sword.
My son and I are reading our way through Flight Explorer right now and I have to say that I like Kean Soo’s Jellaby story in that one better than I like “Lost” in this volume. Both are sweet, but “Lost” is mostly just a scene rather than a complete tale. I guess there’s something in it about hope, but it didn’t smack me in the head like most of these other stories did. Jellaby’s an awfully lovable character though.
A better lost-in-the-woods story is Grimaldi and Bannister’s “Two Kids” about a couple of children in the woods for very different reasons. Both reasons grow out of the kids’ relationships with their parents, as do their motivations for being found. It’s beautiful, deep stuff.
Next, Ryan North and John Martz bring the self-explanatory “Scenes in Which the Earth Stops Spinning and Everybody Flies into a Wall.” Ryan North is famous for creating Dinosaur Comics in which he’s been making the same six-panel comic strip fresh and funny for five-and-a-half years. He’s doing more of that here; taking a simple concept and making you laugh (and sometimes sigh contentedly) at it over and over again.
Remember how I said I was a cat person? Joey Weiser’s “Timecat” is for me. Leading with a splash page of a cat leaping through time, Weiser convincingly explains how cats really can travel into the future when they’re hungry enough. Your fondness for this may be directly proportional to your love for cats, but I was completely charmed.
Kness and Made’s “Voyage” reminded me a little of the story “Part 1″ from Out of Picture 2. They’re both gorgeously illustrated, wordless stories about polar bears on a journey. But where “Part One” is frustratingly incomprehensible, “Voyage” makes sense and manages to beautifully communicate loss, hope, despair, resiliency, and triumph while it’s at it.
I wish every kid had to read Svetlana Chmakova’s “On the Importance of Space Travel” once a year starting when they’re eleven and going until they turn nineteen. Or maybe twenty-five. Her steadfastly optimistic heroine Jeannie unswervingly claims to be a princess from Pluto, much to the annoyance of her teacher and classmates. When one classmate in particular takes it upon himself to teach Jeannie that she’s not from Pluto, an event follows that forces everyone to examine their feelings about her eccentricity. It’s an exquisite story about people who are different and the challenges and rewards of finding common ground. (Okay, maybe we should stop reading it at ninety-five.)
The last story is Chris Appelhans’ “Frank and Frank: Seasons.” It’s a simple tale about a little boy and an enormous bear who enjoy playing in the woods together, but it ends so joyously that it has to be the final piece in the collection. If Flight, Volume 5 is a symphony – and it kind of is with its complimentary parts that rise and fall and rise again in emotional impact – then “On the Importance of Space Travel” is its climax. But “Seasons” is the final chords – first soft and gentle, then surprising and jubilant – signaling the end of a wonderful show.
