The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

With vol. 5 of the hipster-popular Scott Pilgrim series recently arriving in shops, I suddenly realized that I was a full volume behind in reading this series. Perhaps my affection for the series has waned during the lag time between volumes. Perhaps I just found vol. 3 very good but unexceptional. Whatever the cause, vol. 4 dropped without much notice in my world, but having enjoyed the previous books in the series, I went to the library to catch up.

A few of my issues with previous volumes – the characters, particularly Scott, are mostly annoying, and for all his art’s many virtues (and there are many), cartoonist Bryan Lee O’Malley’s characters are often hard to distinguish – remain as minor distractions in this otherwise intelligent and entertaining book. Specifically frustrating in this book, Scott’s girlfriend Ramona and Scott’s flirtation Lisa could nearly be twins. Pay attention, reader, for Ramona’s hair often dangles in front of one eye.

Despite a few problems, however, I still found the book very engaging and fun. The video game-stylizations remain cute, for example Scott’s “level up!” when he makes a personal breakthrough. The layouts work well, keeping all the talking heads’ scenes just as exciting – more exciting, honestly – as the sword battles. While I have problems with O’Malley’s character designs being difficult to distinguish, his character acting is terrific. The story is filled with complicated human emotions, yet you never fail to understand when Scott is confused, happy, lonely, or anything else on the emotion rainbow.

The meta-textual elements are used cleverly as well, with multiple in-story references to other volumes of the series or to the page structure itself.  Still, the best part is simply the evolving character arc of Scott Pilgrim.  He’s not someone I have much sympathy for, but he’s moving (very, very slowly) toward becoming one. It’s a fun book, a coming of age story couched in outlandish and fun video-game conflict metaphors.  If you come across it at your local library, be sure sure to check out Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together.  Meanwhile, I’ll cross my fingers and hope for vol. 5 to arrive at the NYPL soon.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

This collected edition of the Green Lantern/Green Arrow comic series from the mid-70s was written by industry legend Denny O’Neil and illustrated by Neal Adams.

I’m not much of a traditional superhero fan. In fact, for my entire comics reading life, I’ve been pretty much completely indifferent to the two heroes sharing cover billing in this book (particularly the power ring-wearing one). Still, I have considerable interest in the evolution of the form and there’s no denying that the issues collected in this story – despite being the final issues leading into the comic’s cancellation (the ensuring Green Lantern series continued this series’ numbering, but there was a four year gap between #89 and #90) – had a huge impact, for better and worse, on how creators approached superhero comics afterward.

These comics, with Stan Lee’s Amazing Spider-Man drug issues, opened the door wide for creators to address social and political topics in superhero comics. On the con side, this has led to occasions of heavy-handed, simplistic soapboxing. Alternatively, we’ve been treated to the occasional smart superhero title that balances the hero’s ability to mitigate complicated issues with the hero’s inspirational qualities. Dennis O’Neil and Neal Adams, the creators behind this run of GL/GA, manage to be simultaneously the best and the worst of what followed. Subtlety isn’t found very often in the pages of this book; however, the heroes often find themselves in no-win situations that pose complex questions to the readers.

Easily the most legendary of the tales herein is the two-part story that sees Green Arrow Oliver Queen’s ward Speedy revealed as a drug addict. Heroin is suggested, but no drug is actually named. Here, Speedy himself, despite Ollie’s cruel judgments (despite being the one I’m likely to identify with, Ollie is an absolute prick in most of these stories, particularly this one), is the hero of the story, overcoming his failings on his own terms. The story, however, might’ve meant something more if Speedy had actually appeared in any of the issues leading up to the two-parter.  Like many modern comics, you’re expected to bring some interest in Speedy’s fate to the comic.

The art’s very good. Adams is a master, and no amount of years passing will dilute the visual impact he brought to the table.  The stories push hard, but they clank and show their age regularly. The heroes come across as painfully naïve and judgmental more often than admirable. Still, I’ve never cared much for the Green Lantern concept – superheroes who hang out and sip lemonade while their ring does all the hard lifting just take the visceral fun out of it – but I appreciated how O’Neil and Adams depicted using the ring as a physically draining process for Hal.

Overall, I don’t really know what to say about this book, honestly.  It has moments of coolness.  It has moments of eh-ness.  I appreciate what it represents, and I like a fair portion of what’s on the page.  Conversely, I didn’t have a single wish-I-owned-it pang when I turned it back in at the library.  Readers who did superhero comics, particularly Bronze Age heroics or witnessing the creative evolution of the medium (at least the superhero end of it), will probably enjoy Green Lantern/Green Arrow vol. 2 if they find it in their local library.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

It was probably a year ago that I took the first volume of Checker Books Flash Gordon reprint series out the library, and I enjoyed it considerably. Efforts to take out subsequent books have all met with similar fates: two or three months of the book being “on hold,” only to receive notice that the last remaining copy is no longer available. So, New Yorkers who’ve destroyed Flash Gordon vols. 2 through 4, I say thank you with all my considerable sarcasm. However, I got to volume 5 before you could destroy it. So suck it.

Without knowing what occurred in the three volumes I’ve passed over, I must admit, I had absolutely no difficulty diving right into the fifth collection of Alex Raymond’s classic Sunday newspaper strip, compiling material from 1940 and ’41. Regular comics readers will likely find at least one peculiarity to these comics – there are no dialogue balloons. Each strip is six panels with accompanying text – often with dialogue in the narration.

Every single panel moves the plot along. These strips, I’m not kidding, move like lightning. The pace is relentless, danger dogs Flash in every strip, and somebody’s always scheming against him. The blocks of text slow the reading down, but you read only four pages and you can’t believe how much has happened.

If I’m going to recommend a classic adventure strip, Caniff’s Terry and the Pirates is still the gold standard. Raymond doesn’t give his characters the emotional depth, nor does he add natural and believable elements of humor, but Alex Raymond’s Flash Gordon certainly deserves recognition. It’s pure plot, pure cliffhanger excitement, restless, excitable and explosive, and Raymond draws the hell out of it. Each page is packed with images of Flash’s lady-love Dale Arden in exotic bikinis, shirtless Flash demolishing Ming’s guards, and iconic sci-fi spaceships and citadels. As an added bonus, in vol. 5, the inflexible status quo of traditional adventure comics is pulverized, as Flash’s revolution against Ming reaches its great culmination. But don’t worry, Raymond has plenty more drama in store for his heroes.

Any reader looking for a solidly crafted, juggernaut paced good time is going to find plenty of pleasures in Alex Raymond’s Flash Gordon comic strips. And, if you’re really lucky, you can find several of these adventures in your local library.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

The prerequisite to any current discussion of this book seems to be to mention that Scott McCloud is famous these days for his academic theorization about the comics form, most popularly in his trio of books Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics and Making Comics. Those are fine books.  I own ‘em and love ‘em, but they’re for comics aficionados, for those of us who’ve devoted far, far too much brainpower to unlocking the secrets of the form and why it presses the buttons it does. Far and away, however, Zot! is McCloud’s most accessible and purely fun work.

On a world similar to our own, except with all the bad parts cut out, Zach Paleozogt, known as Zot, is a superhero. Well, more a retro-futuristic sci-fi adventurer with superheroic overtones, because Zot doesn’t really have any powers – except his relentlessly cheery attitude and an impossible derring-do will to overcome all odds. On our world, there’s Jenny, a teenage girl who has divorcing parents, a problematic older brother, homework and plenty of questions about what she’s doing in her life.

Half of the book alternates between Zot’s world and Jenny’s world, blending retro sci-fi adventure drama with slightly off-beat comedy episodes, copiously complemented by engaging characterization as Jenny tries to reconcile her dream world against the reality she experiences most days. It’s engaging, fun if light and forgettable comic book entertainment. Around halfway through Zot! The Complete Black & White’s 570-odd pages, McCloud’s interest clearly shifts to the human element.

From that point forward, Zot is stranded on our Earth, and Jenny is unable to escape the pressures of her conflicted teen anxieties. McCloud’s strong grasp of his supporting cast allows him to use them as narrators of their own lives while still driving forward Jenny’s story. His formalist tendencies, evidenced through his follow-up projects, even get a few chances to shine, as in the surprising finale of Terry’s chapter – with its secret last page. Carefully constructed and emotionally true, despite the presence of a heroic figure who seems to always inspire positive thoughts, these chapters are where Zot! truly shines. There are a few hiccups, such as the tediously one-note school bully who attacks Woody, but the simple humanity evidenced throughout the stories – from Brandy’s effusive positivity in the face of the worst traumas of any of Jenny’s friends, to Zot and Jenny’s frank and hesitant conversation about their physical relationship – lifts the series to truly memorable heights.

Simply, Zot! is effusive, fun comics, with an uplifting yet believable emotional core. Many young and old readers will find themselves pleasantly surprised if they check McCloud’s earliest comics work out of their local library.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

I should admit one thing up front: literally every shred of previous information I’ve acquired about the computer game World of Warcraft has been gleaned from an episode of South Park. I say this because readers familiar with the game will likely take something completely different from this book than I did. For me, when you consider that Walter Simonson’s work on Thor and Orion is just about the pinnacle of superhero comics in my eyes, the potential attraction of the World of Warcraft comics should be obvious, but it’s not due to any attraction to the game.

Alas, despite a few teases of a greater mythology, World of Warcraft seems to be a marginal fantasy comic going through the motions. Penciller Ludo Lullabi does Simonson no favors, with action sequences that often difficult to follow and characters too often likely to scream or gnash their teeth in every circumstance.

Nevertheless, Simonson is not on top of his game here. Rather than building a mythology and universe, every time the chance comes to explore the structure of the WoW universe, Simonson opts to throw the characters into another battle. In fact, they get into so many fights that it becomes a point of reference even to the characters themselves in the final chapter! Disparate factions of the WoW universe are met in brief bursts, but before we can get a coherent sense of the connections between these cultures or how they lives their lives, it’s fight! fight! fight! and we’re off on another quest. Even the dialogue doesn’t have Simonson’s usual snap.

Now, again, fans of the game (where, I assume, the back story is filled out?) or fans of quest-based fantasy in general may take something completely different from this comic than I did, but I’m comparing this to previous Walt Simonson titles where the nuances of new universes were built up over a succession of encounters with Frost Giants or Darkseid’s lieutenants, and World of Warcraft is lacking in comparison.

Also, I imagine it’s not just me, but isn’t it strange that Lo’gosh is three times as thick on the covers as he is in Lullabi’s pages. Weird. So, anyway, big picture here, it has a huge brand, but I wouldn’t expect that many readers or gamers are likely to find the first collected comic book edition of World of Warcraft a satisfying title whether they find it in the library or elsewhere.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

Hope Larson’s Chiggers is an Eisner Award-winner and a totally charming book. On one level, it’s an upbeat, girls-at-summer-camp romp, full of catty banter, fun camp activities and awkward teen social interactions. On another, it’s a discussion of growing up and finding not only your friends, but also yourself. Abby’s back in summer camp for another summer, but as the youngest girl in her group of camp friends, she’s suddenly an outsider among the older girls and their new responsibilities and new interests. Befriended by the mysterious Shasta, Abby finds herself torn between peer groups and confused about her interest in awkward boy camper Teal.

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The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

I already posted my Best of 2008 list, but if I were to do it over again, Dash Shaw’s opus about the Looney family would certainly be somewhere on it. Mixing humor and tragedy, Shaw charts the family’s lives over a single weekend, as the three adult children, one of their children and another’s spouse, come together to spend time with their parents who are divorcing after forty years of marriage.

Shaw does great work establishing each character’s core personality and the conflict each faces during the course of this emotional weekend. Then each person’s dilemma is explored and resolved in a plausible and sensible fashion, leaving the reader satisfied yet also leaving us with the understanding that these characters’ lives are not over and they will continue to deal with life.

Artistically, Shaw’s not a great illustrator, but his storytelling is precise and clear, moving everything forward at a deliberate and specific pace. He also uses some nice tricks, including diagrams and depicting youngest son Peter as a frog (which is later explained, and in a particularly effective panel, shown as artifice).

Although it is a little padded at times, Shaw is in total control of the pacing, drawing out emotional moments and teasing readers through tough times. He’ll literally draw only one panel per page – not a splash page, just a single, regular-sized panel in a field of blankness – to slow a sequence down and focus the reader on the quiet beats unfolding in a characters’ life. It’s pretty much a virtuoso pacing performance.

It’s a moving, funny, sad and melodramatic piece.  Adult readers who are capable of dealing with the emotional subtleties and occasional bits of graphic sexuality are likely to enjoy Bottomless Belly Button if they come across it at their local library.  It’s a strong ambassador of quality adult comics.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

This week, rather than wait in line in the brutal cold (which, personally, I love), you could go the library and check out Charles Hatfield’s academic study of comics, specifically alternative comics including Gilbert Hernandez’s Palomar and Poison River, Spiegelman’s Maus, R. Crumb’s revolutionary work, and Harvey Pekar’s subtle recognition of daily turmoils.  Technically, yeah, it’s not a comic, but it is heavily illustrated with plenty of examples from the relevant works.

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The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

Last week, the book I read probably suffered a bit from expectation.  Joshua W. Cotter’s Skyscrapers of the Midwest came to me as nearly a blank slate.  I’d heard the title enough to know it existed, but the between-covers content was completely unknown. The title refers to the towers of the mind contrasted against the incongruous mundanity of smalltown life. As such, it’s part autobiography and part tribute to childhood imagination. The narrative follows Cotter and his brother through their early childhood, dealing with schoolyard taunts, burying pets, losing toys and stumbling through awkward interactions with adult relatives. Running alongside the everyday and emotionally bruising reality, we get to witness Cotter’s young mind translating images into giant robots and imagining his own heroic triumph over impossible odds.

It’s that juxtaposition between imaginative victories and real struggles that gives the book its meat and raises it to engaging and successful levels. The art’s very strong. Cotter chooses to anthropomorphize everybody as cats. I can’t guess why he made that choice, but it adds a certain innocence to the characters, particularly the children. Cotter’s ability to weave between flights of fancy and grounded pseudo-tragedies is impressive, as it keeps you engaged, forcing you to question everything that’s happening in even the most straightforward sequences.

By balancing and weaving together mundanity and imagination, Cotter’s created a pretty compelling book. Each of its separate halves are solid, yet short of exceptional. Taken together, he’s crafted a whimsical, tragical, and very well drawn almost-memoir of young adolescence. I suspect that if they’re allowed exposure to the occasional cuss word, many teenage readers will connect with Cotter’s Skyscrapers of the Midwest, as will many adults.

The library is a great place for readers to discover comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

Today, Jack Kirby’s Silver Star.  I’ve been a total mark for the recent surge of archival Kirby reprints, having adored all the Fourth World volumes and OMAC, and owning (but not yet having read) Eternals and Demon (I have some cheap, ugly Essential reprints of Thor and FF, which I’ll hopefully begin to replace with better editions in the next year), yet based on the indifference even hardcore Kirby fans show to this latter-day Kirby series, I opted for the financially conservative option of checking Image Comics’ recent Silver Star hardcover out from the library.

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The library is a great place for readers to find comics, and it’s a great place for comics readers to check out things that they want to try without spending their hard-earned cash. I’m looking at comics that I find in the New York Public Library system.

Too Cool to be Forgotten, by Alex Robinson. Top Shelf.

Oftentimes, when I take a book out of the library, it’s simply because I have a small apartment and there’s limited shelf space for “keeper” books. Giving back the books that I really want to read, but probably won’t reread is the best option. Sometimes, however, I borrow because I’m curious, yet concerned, about the quality of a book and don’t want to fork over the money for it. After buying and loving Box Office Poison and Tricked, Alex Robinson was pretty well established on my must-buy list of creators, but something about his latest book, Too Cool to be Forgotten concerned.

Here’s the premise: Smoker Andy Wicks goes to a hypnotherapist to quit smoking. He ends up being transported back into the mind of his own high school self, to prevent himself from lighting up that first ciggie, or so he assumes. Thing about this premise is, it’s not that interesting. I think we’ve all seen a film or TV show in which an adult is somehow, magically or improbably, back in high school. It’s just not that interesting, and so I approached this book with some caution.

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Today’s (usually) new comic book day, and everyone’s (usually) off to their local comic shop to pick up their weekly supply. I have a lot of love for the direct market shops, their understanding of the form, and their (hopefully) considerable selection of material, but personally, when I think about growing readership for comics, I still think having comics in libraries is huge. Nearly every town has a library, even a shabby one, adding up to over 123,000 total libraries in the United States (according to the ALA website). They cost their patrons nothing (and free is always a positive), and if the wait I regularly endure to get books out the New York Public Library (the NYPL of the title) is anything to go by, there is incredible demand for comics in the library system.

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