It Came From the NYPL

King: King of Comics
Written by Mark Evanier
Published by Abrams

Jack Kirby is, of course, the most important and influential artist in comic book history. He, along with a few contemporaries, created the visual language of the comic book page; the sheer volume of his pages boggles any imagination; and he’s created, co-created, or radically reimagined about two-thirds of the commercially viable characters (even Superman’s carried the influence of those Jimmy Olsen stories for a long, long while) to appear in superhero comics over the past forty years.

So clearly, the world really needs a proper biography of the life of a man who did more for comic books than anybody else. Fortunately, Mark Evanier is available for the job. Kirby: King of Comics, which I recently borrowed from the New York Public Library, does a wonderful job introducing readers to Jack Kirby, the man. We’ve known his work, but most of us have never had the opportunity to meet the person.

Evanier’s biography is a loving effort, with the author’s affection for Jack apparent on every single page. Insight into Kirby’s work ethic, motivated by his need to provide for his family, comes through clearly, as does Kirby’s enthusiasm for telling stories and the comic book medium. When it comes to Kirby’s battles for recognition – monetary and public – Evanier takes the high road, avoiding most blame. Martin Goodman, Jack Schiff and the money people are the clear villains of Kirby’s life. Many of the industry-based anecdotes have been heard before, but the book is largely about Jack as a man, how he struggles on, always bringing home that paycheck for his family.

An oversized hardcover, King: King of Comics provides readers with hundreds of pages of artwork and illustrations. The book’s dimensions showcase the drawings beautifully, allowing the detail and power to really come across. It’s a very attractive book, complementing Evanier’s affectionate tribute.

Kirby: King of Comics isn’t quite essential – it’s too reverent, but it’s a loving tribute to the most important creator in comics history. Mark Evanier’s done a fine job illuminating the man behind the creations, providing readers with a book well worth owning, or at least worth a visit to your local library.

Freeway
Written & Illustrated by Mark Kalensniko
Published by Fantagraphics

Mark Kalesniko’s Mail Order Bride was among the best comics of 2003, so his latest – Freeway – came with considerable expectations. Freeway is a return to Kalesniko’s alter-ego, Alex Kalienka; while trapped in a southern California traffic jam, Alex recalls starting out in the animation field, his childhood dream, while contrasting the reality of office politics, back-stabbing favoritism and compromise against his dreams of creative freedom and loving comraderie.

In the end, Freeway’s concept is stronger than its reality. Which isn’t to say it’s a bad book – Freeway’s a perfectly okay book, but just an okay one. The characters are well crafted, and Kalesniko does a fine job contrasting the reality of his circumstances against his dream scenario – particularly in the case of his own insecurity compared to his dream-vision’s easy-going confidence. The office politics are well played and all too real, and the pages are laid out well, the illustrations suitably charming.

Yet the narrative pulls in too many directions, as Alex dreams of not just his past and his ideal, but images of his childhood encamped on a stool in front of a television recur; a dark, sputtering car lurks behind him on the L.A. freeway; and a young Alex frets fearfully over his job interview and ever feeling at home in bustling Los Angeles. And then there are the morbid daydreams of his own demise – each tangent works on its own, but taken together, they pull the story in too many directions.

While the layouts are effective, Kalesniko’s transition panels between dream visions – a three-panel exchange with both past and dream overlaid in the middle panel – becomes heavy-handed and distracted after the first few usages. Some sequences are drawn out too long, although others, such as the multi-panel images of gridlock and Alex’s stream of curses, enforce the insistent inescapability of the freeway’s congestion.

Freeway is a good book, but it’s not quite a great book. A clearer focus would keep Kalesniko’s intent at the book’s fore, that dreams are wonderful, but the world isn’t what you dream. Kalesniko provides no answers for his protagonist – the animation business doesn’t suddenly become everything he hoped. The world is full of compromises, but with a little more care, Freeway could’ve been free of them.

Prince Valiant v. 3: 1941-1942
Written & Illustrated by Hal Foster
Published by Fantagraphics

Common consensus is that Hal Foster’s famed adventure strip Prince Valiant reaches the early days of its (long) golden era during the years collected in this book. Considering how much I enjoyed the first four years, when Foster was still finding the strip’s voice, I wasn’t sure how much better Valiant could get. Turns out, Prince Valiant achieves sheer radiance.

Now, for my money, Milton Caniff’s Terry and the Pirates remains the class of the newspaper adventure strip – frankly, it remains the class of all adventure comics, strip, book or otherwise. Hal Foster, however, is pushing hard for the second slot on this list.

In 1941 and 1942, Valiant spends over a year voyaging through Europe, the Middle East and northern Africa, seeking the return of his fabled “Singing Sword” and pursuing the visionary beauty of Queen Aleta. Along the way, there are many fights won by Val’s determination, many romances enabled by Val’s kindness, and many tables turned by Val’s cunning. He travels with pirates in search of gold, battles against slave traders, and inevitably enriches the lives of good people everywhere, while demolishing those less worthy.

In short, Prince Valiant is noble romantic adventure fiction at its finest. The plots are classical, yet surprising, with chivalry and fair play constantly at the forefront. Poetic and strikingly descriptive, the narrations could nearly stand alone, but fortunately are accompanied by some of the finest comics’ art ever produced. Foster’s nuanced artwork captures the most subtle intentions of his immense cast, while the details and carefully crafted color work fill out Val’s world with rich textures from clothing to stonework, from animals to forests. Even the climates Val visits, sweltering Africa, frigid Britain – pounding rains and dehydrating days at sea – ground the reader in a palpable world.

Working from full-color syndicate printer’s proofs, Fantagraphics’ current Valiant reprints are the most pristine incarnations of Foster’s strip … well, ever. Surely the original newspaper versions didn’t showcase the full depth of his artwork, and the care put into the binding and the book design displays the publisher’s commitment to presenting Foster’s work in the best light possible. Prince Valiant v. 3: 1941-1942 finds a legendary strip reaching yet greater heights of creative accomplishment, presenting the strips with the full majesty of size, color and detail that its author always hoped for. After Foster, comics were never the same; this series is, simply, a must-have for any serious comics library.

iZombie v. 1: Dead to the World
Written by Chris Roberson
Illustrated by Mike Allred
Colored by Laura Allred
Lettered by Todd Klein
Published by DC/Vertigo

It’s probably not Roberson and Allred’s fault, but I found this particular trade paperback less than satisfying. It just never provided any sense of resolution to the reader – and I understand, this being an ongoing serial, some storylines will remain open for perhaps years. Yet I still prefer that each book in a series gives some closure to some piece of the narrative. I quit monthly comics ten years ago because trades were a more satisfying reading experience. With longer stories becoming the norm, but publishers opting for low-cost collections of only five, maybe six, issues, even trades are often unsatisfying these days. Putting more pages in these collections is strongly encourged, by me anyway. Price resistance kicks in when I know I have to pay many times for what I could have in fewer installments.

Of course, even if Dead to the World provided a clearer resolution, I’m not sure I’d be back for more. iZombie‘s a cute series, about Gwen, a zombie lady who must eat brains once a month or become a mindless, shambling monstrosity, and what occurs when her latest brain comes with memories of its own murder. But it’s still a zombie book, with vampires, monster hunters, ghosts and a were-terrier. It’s building its own particular take on these creature mythologies, but it’s all still monster mythology.  The monster subgenre of horror isn’t really my thing, so I can appreciate a solid twist and some nice art, but there’s no deeper hook here to bring me into it.

Roberson’s stiff dialogue carries the story, but doesn’t get deeper into the characters. The plot swerves effectively in a few key places, such as Amon’s back story, but it’s all plot – there’s no deeper significance to any of it. Mike Allred’s long been a favorite comic artist of mine, with a clean pop-art, cute-girl style that doesn’t seem obviously suited to a monster comic. Yet he acquits himself very well in iZombie, with strong character designs and clear page layouts, bringing a brightness and clarity to Gwen’s sullen lot in life.

In short, iZombie‘s an interesting series, but not necessarily a compelling one. I’m sure many readers will dig it – those with more interest in monster movie riffs than I, for example – but Dead to the World doesn’t set the series up to be anything more than a middling (if pretty-looking) genre exercise.

X-9: Secret Agent Corrigan v.1: 1967-1969
Written by Archie Goodwin
Illustrated by Al Williamson
Published by IDW/Library of American Comics

The daily newspaper Secret Agent X-9 debuted in 1934 with an impressive creative pedigree. Dashiell Hammett, following his successes with The Maltese Falcon and Red Harvest,  scripted the sleuth’s adventures, and Flash Gordon/Rip Kirby creator (and perhaps the most influential comics illustrator ever) Alex Raymond handled the artwork.

Both men soon abandoned their nameless detective, who travelled with a variety of creators for three decades until 1967 when Al Williamson, a longtime disciple of Raymond’s style, was hired to take over drawing the strip. Williamson recruited colleague and friend Archie Goodwin to write adventures for X-9, which was retitled Secret Agent Corrigan.

This book collects the earliest stories from Goodwin and Williamson’s twelve-year Corrigan run.

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It Came From the NYPL

Cross Game v. 2
Written & Illustrated by Mitsuru Adachi
Translated by Lillian Olsen
Lettering and touch-up by Jim Keefe & Mark McMurray
Published by Viz

In Cross Game v. 2, Mitsuru Adachi spends 280 of 350 pages chronicling a single baseball game. If you’re a baseball geek like me, it’s pure heaven.

The series’ overall arc, continuing from the first book, continues to revolve around high schooler Ko Kitamura developing into a baseball phenom, while his adversarial-cum-burgeoning-respect relationship with Aoba Tsukishima slowly evolves from childhood tensions into something more mature.

And, yeah, the emotional core of the series, Ko and Aoba’s relationship, is present in this book, but ultimately, v. 2 of Cross Game is devoted to Adachi’s astonishing ability to capture the magical moments of a baseball game on a comic book page. Using motion lines, severe angles, close-ups, quiet open panels of baseballs suspended in space, and angular poses that capture the contortions of charging fielders and off-balance throws, Adachi visually described the poetry of sports in static imagery.

Cross Game is, for this baseball fan anyway, a beautiful comic series; one I’ll probably begin buying before vol. 3 arrives in the U.S. But it’s great to know that I can continue to discover great series like this at my library; hopefully you’re all discovering similarly wonderful series at your branch.

Popeye v. 5: Wha’s a Jeep?
Written & Illustrated by E.C. Segar
Published by Fantagraphics

We’re closing on the end of Elzie Segar’s monumental comic strip accomplishment with the fifth volume of Fantagraphics’ recent Popeye reprint series. The next book will be the end, as Segar passed away and the strip passed into the hands of other – often still talented, but simply not as original – cartoonists.

This fifth volume introduces Eugene the Jeep, the yellow-furred, future-predicting pet and Popeye’s long-lost father Poopdeck Pappy into the mythology, effectively completing Popeye’s peculiar family unit. Popeye, Olive Oyl and Swea’pea form the semifunctional nuclear unit, with Wimpy, Castor, Eugene and Pappy rounding out the extended family.

While the daily strips focus on extended sequences, including Popeye’s kingdom Spinachovia feuding with Olive’s island nation and then facing invasion from neighboring Brutia. Then Eugene arrives and instigates the search for Pappy; Segar’s Sunday pages are couched in the strip’s unlikely family dynamic.

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Scenes from an Impending Marriage: A Prenuptial Memoir
Written & Illustrated by Adrian Tomine
Published by Drawn & Quarterly

Adrian Tomine’s Scenes from an Impending Marriage was born as a wedding gift, a token given to the guests at he and his wife’s nuptials. As such, it’s fairly innocuous. And you can’t really blame Tomine for that – that’s the inherent problem with a gift for a hundred or so people with a thousand different interests. It’s hard to find something for everyone, so you keep it basic. Innocuous.

Which isn’t to say Scenes from an Impending Marriage is bad. It’s not. It’s decently funny, with scenes that anybody who’s been married (went through it myself last April, so it’s quite fresh) – or known someone who’s been married – can easily relate to. Tomine provides a few good lines, grits his teeth in frustration and rolls with the punches in the same way my wife and I did, and the same way every other couple in ceremonial marriage history has done. It’s effective and cute, and certainly very well drawn – the loose quality of the art makes for a much livelier book than any of Tomine’s others – but it’s not an essential piece of a strong cartoonist’s canon.

It Came From the NYPL

American Splendor: Unsung Hero: The Story of Robert McNeill
Written by Harvey Pekar
Illustrated by David Collier
Published by Dark Horse Comics

This book is one of Pekar’s lesser known, but more affecting, efforts. Robert McNeil enlisted in the U.S. Marines in 1969 at the age of seventeen, and only one birthday later was shipped off for a year-long tour of duty in Vietnam.  In Unsung Hero, Pekar shares McNeil’s story with us, from a brief walkthrough of his childhood and scholastic career, into basic training, and ultimately through his military duty during which he won Navy Commendation Medal with Combat.

Pekar narrates the book from McNeil’s perspective, as if the reader is sitting down and listening to McNeil tell his tale. Occasional panels of McNeil as he appeared when the book saw print, 2003, enforce the casual sit-down nature of the writing. McNeil’s tale is very powerful, focusing on the conflicts between his own self-preservation and his desire to not fail his comrades. Threads of drug use and McNeil’s role in a collective of black soldiers weave through the saga, adding palpable humanity.

The artwork, sketchy but effective, enforces the narrative, but rarely adds much depth to it. The text, McNeil’s memories and insights, could almost stand alone. David Collier, however, does enhance the humanity of each moment with his impressionistic style and focus on capturing the emotional experience of McNeil.

Harvey Pekar may no longer be with us, but he’s left behind a deep body of writing, many of which we may have overlooked. I had missed out on American Splendor: Unsung Hero: The Story of Robert McNeil, and fortunately, the library helped me fill in that oversight. Hopefully your library can help you discover works by your favorite authors that you haven’t read.

Noche Roja
Written by Simon Oliver
Illustrated by Jason Latour
Lettered by Clem Robins
Cover art by Lee Bermejo
Published by DC/Vertigo

Simon Oliver and Jason Latour’s Noche Roja introduces Jack Cohen, an ex-cop turned home-security salesman, hired to investigate the murder of young Mexican women along the U.S. border. The oddest aspect of Noche Roja is how Oliver avoids ever pinpointing its location, referring to “North” and “South”, and dancing around geographic and ethnic specifics. It’s distracting, but not to the point of ruining an otherwise engrossing book.

Oliver’s crafted a tense moral thriller, where everybody has an agenda, and none of those agendas are looking in the general direction of altruism. Early on, Cohen realizes he’s been hired for a specific reason, and Oliver creates a workable scenario from bringing an ex-cop and ex-detective into the case. The interwoven histories of the players in this drama provide a complex tapestry that requires nearly all of the book’s 180 pages to unfurl.

The artwork, by Jason Latour, is effective, dark , moody. The layouts carry the story forward clearly, and the character designs are effective. The book’s reproduction, however, muddies many sequences, with too much ink on the page, swallowing up some of the layouts’ clarity.

Noche Roja works as a good crime comic, surprising and twisted, weaving corruption through worse depravations, with one man, a world-weary failed idealist, pulling at the strings, waiting to see what unravels.

Rat Catcher
Written by Andy Diggle
Illustrated by Victor Ibañez
Lettered by Jared K. Fletcher
Cover art by Lee Bermejo
Published by DC/Vertigo

Rat Catcher stands out among the Vertigo Crime line, certainly one of its better offerings. The plot revolves around an aging FBI agent whose partner has gone missing while investigating the rat catcher, a rumored hitman known for erasing state’s witnesses while in protective custody.

Andy Diggle (this is the first comic of his I can recall reading; mental note to look for more) handles the script with white-knuckle tension. He’s able to give each character shape with just a few snippets of dialogue (abetted, of course, by Victor Ibañez’s strong grasp of facial expressions and body language), so readers connect with the cast without spending much time on actual characterization. The plot’s the driving force here, with the missing agent Lynch on the run, uncovering secrets of the rat catcher, and his partner Burdon in pursuit, figuring out why Lynch remains on the lam.

At the exact moment enough information is put forward to make the rat catcher’s identity inescapable, Diggle goes for the reveal, upending the entire book and setting loose a breakneck chase for the finale. It’s fast and thrilling, with plenty of danger, some double-crosses and a respectable body count among the supporting players.

As strong as Diggle’s script is, Ibañez’s illustrations match the standard every step of the way. Burdon’s weary countenance captures the character’s exhaustion and emotional distress. The southwest vistas feel open and sun-scorched; the character acting is solid if slightly exaggerated (ah, comic book characters and their snarling faces); and the violence hits hard without being overly cartoonish.

A fast-moving, surprising and effective thriller, Rat Catcher stands tall as one of Vertigo Crime’s best titles to date.

It Came From the NYPL

Chew v. 1: Taster’s Choice
Written & Lettered by John Layman
Illustrated by Rob Guillory
Published by Image Comics

In discussing a previous Fables collection, I talked briefly about one of the many ways in which my preferences fly in the face of common comic fandom’s. Namely, comic fans at large tend to prefer ongoing serials, years of history, long-term commitments. My inclination is toward self-contained books or only-brief serials. Reading Chew v. 1: Taster’s Choice (the pun, I feel, would work better if the series’ hero made more choices) I was, again, reminded of this division between fandom and myself.

I liked Chew. It’s bizarre and strange, and not quite funny, but amusing in its own black-humored way. It’s hero, Tony Chu, is cibopathic, meaning that he gets psychic impressions from any food that he eats – and after being pulled into the FDA (a powerful organization in Chew’s world, where bird flu led to chickens being illegal and food crimes are the norm), his ability is frequently put to use by … how to put this delicately … getting clues to crimes through cannibalism.

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Sweet Tooth v. 2: In Captivity
Written & Illustrated by Jeff Lemire
Colored by Jose Villarrubia
Lettered by Pat Brosseau
Published by DC/Vertigo

Two stories unfold in the second book of Jeff Lemire’s Sweet Tooth. Gus, the antlered nine-year-old boy who is ostensibly the series’ lead, finds himself in captivity, with a scientist who begins uncovering the origins of the plague that has killed much of humanity and mutated the survivors into peaceful crossbreeds. The second piece follows Gus’s betrayer, Jepperd, as his history prior to the plague unfolds via flashback sequences.

Despite the volume’s title, this book is much more about life before the plague than Gus’s status. Jepperd feels lost in the past, with no direction left for his life, and Gus remains a passive protagonist, dumbfounded (but sincere) as the mysteries of the recent past unfold around him. Lemire’s script and art both emphasize the mood, with contemplative sequences, open panels and heavy shadows – yet In Captivity also manages to be more plot-driven then Sweet Tooth’s first volume. Lemire doesn’t hold back (much) the origins of the plague, though he offers several more surprises to keep readers intrigued.

Ultimately, however, Sweet Tooth meanders along somewhat slower than I’d like, with no clear direction for its protagonist. Gus is earnest and likable, but inactive, a victim of fate rather than a willing protagonist. Lemire provides several strong character moments, and the art is laid out to maximize each emotional beat. I can easily see this series as a favorite for many readers, yet I’m not sure I’ll continue with it unless Lemire can pick up the pace and inject some impetus into the proceedings. Considering the cost (and time, which I never seem to have enough of) required for comics these days, I’m very picky about my long-running serials. As a graphic novel or shorter run of books, I’d recommend Sweet Tooth completely. As an open-ended commitment, I’m not quite as confident.

King of the Flies v. 2: The Origin of the World
Written by Pirus
Illustrated by Mezzo
Colored by Ruby
Translated by Helge Dascher
Published by Fantagraphics

Pirus and Mezzo continue their brutal dissection of suburbia in the second of three King of the Flies albums. The creative team, Frenchmen both, craft a tale so universal that a single reference to a Euro is the only element that prevents the story from taking place in any American suburb.

In King of the Flies, Pirus and Mezzo move through their suburban nightmare in ten chapters, seven-page each. Switching narrators, the creators plumb deeper into the disaffected malaise possessing the listless community with each sequence. Prospectless teenagers pursue their own short-sighted desires, while mingling uncomfortably with adults whose limited ambitions and selfish yens provide an ugly mirror to the kids’ futures.

Artist Mezzo fills each panel with moody, sagging, worn-in details, and the book’s flat color palette enforces the rundown quality of the line art. Anger simmers below the surface of each panel, balanced by a resigned ennui. The beauty of King of the Flies: The Origin of the World lies in seeing which way that tenuous tension will fall for each character.

If you’re of a mind for the ugly side of humanity, the despondence of hopeless lives, you won’t find a better comic that Pirus and Mezzo’s King of the Flies. The dialogue crackles, the artwork’s astonishing, and every character’s swirling the drain of life – like a car crash, you won’t be able to look away.

Denys Wortman’s New York
Written & Illustrated by Denys Wortman
Edited by James Sturm & Brandon Elston
Published by Drawn & Quarterly

Collecting nearly 300 drawings of New York City during the 1930s and 1940s, Denys Wortman’s New York accomplishes many things – not the least of which is renewing interest in a nearly forgotten cartoonist. Wortman spent thirty years drawing cartoons for New York World, yet until just a few months ago, his work seemed relegated to history’s forgotten file folder. Fortunately, James Sturm – cartoonist and proprietor of the Center for Cartoon Studies – uncovered some of Wortman’s work, tracked down the cartoonist’s son, and found a massive trove of illustrations and drawings.

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Palookaville #20
Written & Illustrated by Seth
Published by Drawn & Quarterly

Joining the ranks of Chris Ware and Los Bros, Seth converts his long-running comic book serial Palookaville to an annual tome with its 20^th installment. Like Ware, Seth opts for the striking hardcover package, meaning it’s a little pricier, but he’s clearly intent on making the package worthwhile.

Palookaville #20 comes with an eye-catching design and plenty of great features. Seth’s introduction explains the rationale behind the new format while lamenting the passing of the traditional comic book leaflet/pamphlet/insert-your-preferred-term. An extended installment of his ongoing “Clyde Fans” serial proves, if you’re new to the story as I am, difficult to entire immerse yourself in, but the quality of the cartooning is evident at a glance. (And I’m sufficiently intrigued to be very jazzed for an eventual collection of the entire saga.) Sketchbook pages; a long look at “Dominion”, Seth’s hand-made cardboard city, and its various exhibits; and a contemplative, verging-on-but-not-quite-falling-into despondence autobiographical sequence round out the package.

Seth’s a superb cartoonist, approaching each of his stories with an austere documentarian’s eye. There are no fancy tricks – just careful composed images and plenty of amazing details in both script and artwork. His evident interest in the development, culturally and architecturally, in his native Canada’s last century underscores all of his work, and nothing here changes that focus.

Despite “Clyde Fans” ongoing nature, Palookaville #20 is surprisingly inviting. Seth’s precise grids make it easy to fall into the tone and pace of each narrative, and his spare scripting and smooth, detailed illustrations capture the sense of his lost souls moving unsurely onto the next stage of their lives.

Sweet Tooth #18
Written & Illustrated by Jeff Lemire
Colored by Jose Villarrubia
Lettered by Pat Brosseau
Published by DC/Vertigo

First, an admission: I hate landscape-format comics. Abhor ‘em. They’re particularly galling for readers, like me, who trade-wait, because the book’s flow is interrupted by the sideways format of one chapter. It’s also a somewhat awkward way to hold a comic.

With that said, however, sideways, upside-down or any other way, Sweet Tooth #18 remains a fun and sweet (with a dash of scary!) comic. The latest installment matches the earliest chapters by being heavy on mood, particularly melancholy, sweetness and chipped-edge innocence, but a light on plot. Following recent events, the series’ cast prepares for a long journey (involving one particularly serious moment defused by Gus), and gets a surprising moment of relaxation and, dare it exist, yes, fun!

Lemire provides an interesting stylistic exercise, mixing traditional comic book storytelling with something closer to a children’s book style, text with accompanying images. The effect suits the issue’s tone nicely, and Lemire’s simple prose captures the innocence of the kids as they prepare for the next phase of their lives.  A year and a half into Gus’s journey, Sweet Tooth remains an interesting comic.

It Came From the NYPL

Special Exits
Written & Illustrated by Joyce Farmer
Published by Fantagraphics

So this book is, honestly, about as sad as you’re likely to find. In Special Exits, Joyce Farmer, via fictionalized alter ego Laura, takes readers on her father and stepmother’s final journey. The final four years of their lives, with all the inevitable health failings and physical and mental difficulties, unfolds for all to witness.

Farmer is a dense cartoonist, with often two or three word balloons per page, making for a heavy read, but a worthwhile one. They encounter many physiological, mental and emotional potholes along the way, so she can’t dally – clipped scenes of sponge baths, sleeping, unhealthy but easy to prepare meals, and Laura’s hundreds of small and large sacrifices inundate readers with the inescapable reality of her parents’ decline.

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Alec: “The Years Have Pants” (A Life-Sized Omnibus)
Written & Illustrated by Eddie Campbell
Published by Top Shelf

If you’ve not read Eddie Campbell’s Alec stories, this book is perfect for you, as you’ll be almost entirely caught up with just one tome. If you are a reader, you’ll get a new story along with some other odds and ends, and you’ll get most of the Alec tales under a single cover. In a well-designed, sturdy, and quite heavy brick of a book.

Alec, if you’re unaware, is Eddie Campbell. So Alec is, thinly veiled, an autobiographical comic. It’s also the on the short list of contenders for the best autobiographical comic. Actually, you can forget the comic part – it’s among the best autobiographies. No navel-gazing here, reader. Eddie Campbell’s a visionary, and Alec: “The Years Have Pants” (A Life-Sized Omnibus) collects the many facets of his own narrative: youthful adventures in and around the pub, marriage and children, relocating to the opposite side of the planet, anecdotes about the behind-the-scenes comic book business, and Campbell’s own philosophies on creativity, wine tasting and family.

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Acme Novelty Library #20: Lint
Written & Illustrated by Chris Ware
Published by Drawn & Quarterly

The latest Acme Novelty Library offering from Chris Ware tells a lifetime portrait of Jordan Lint, from birth to death. As with previous ANL books, Lint stands out on shelves as a beautiful book, a strikingly designed hardcover whose subtlety nearly screams out in comparison to the hyperventilating action-oriented covers of most comics.

Due to its narrative breadth, Lint sketches the outlines of its protagonist’s life, offering fleeting glimpses, snapshots of time just before or after momentous life changes. As such, certain sequences feel too fleeting, unfulfilling, but taken in sum, the complete reading experience rounds out a life as complete, complex and full as any found in the comics form.

Ware’s graphic sense remains impeccable, minimalist and striking, weaving small images together to give readers the fullest possible picture of Lint’s world. Similarly, his use of lettering – fonts, sizes, placement – aids the artwork in establishing the emotional tone of each sequence.

Like all of Ware’s work, darkness marks Lint, though this book doesn’t match the depressing melancholy of earlier Ware books. Which is, I think, a welcome change. Ware’s a technical master of the medium, and capable of devastating emotional stories; showing a wider emotional range will only make his work even stronger and more essential. If you’re not reading Acme Novelty Library, you’re missing the most technically accomplished and boundary-pushing comics available today.