Well, it seems this review is pretty timely. I was starting to wonder if Barack the Barbarian really had legs and then we get some legs.

Playing off Pres. Obama’s mention that he collected Conan the Barbarian comics as a kid, this comic, published by Devil’s Due and written by Larry Hama and drawn by Christopher Schons, is set in a time of swords and sorcery. A gathering of children listen as a shaman retells the legend of Barack the Barbarian. Riding in on a donkey, Barack the Barbarian is determined to set things right in the city of Warshingstun, “where every word uttered was lie, and every soul was for sale. A place where men traded dark secrets and openly peddled a powerful drug named Influence.” After fending off some ogres, Barack meets Manny the Fixer who will set him on the path to greatness. But first, they will feast and Barack will partake of a multicultural meal with a dash of Dijon mustard.

Considering that the flap over Dijon mustard is pretty recent, it looks like the creation of the rest of this four part comic is very much in play. So, it would only make sense to go for the gold and follow closely what Sarah Palin does next now that she’s abandoned her post as governor. It’s when Red Sarah, the fighting Queen of the North, makes her entrance that this first issue kicks into gear and it may very well be that the Wonder from Wasilla will bestow some of her mavericky magic onto the rest of this comic.

So far, the best of the Obama comic books is IDW’s comic book documenting the Obama campaign. It’s a serious approach and it’s spot on. And the best satire is MAD Magazine’s “Obama, The First 100 Minutes.” Of course, MAD is the gold standard. Barack the Barbarian is funny and seems aimed at all ages despite all the babes in bikinis. So, maybe for older kids. Overall, it’s poking fun at a time in history and isn’t really taking sides. I would only hope that the jokes get sharper.

The humor should be at least as funny as what The White House can create for a political roast. And delivered with as much style as the real Obama like in this perfect dig at the House Minority Leader, a true Republican partisan with a perpetual tan, John Boehner, told at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, May 9, 2009: “In the next one hundred days, our bipartisan outreach will be so successful than even John Boehner will consider becoming a Democrat. Afterall, we have a lot in common. He is a person of color. Although not a color that appears in the natural world.” That joke had the Commander in Chief cracking up. And it still cracks me up.

My short review: I like it.

Of course I’m not going to let you off that easily. I’ve got far more to say about it than that. It’s a pulpy, splashy romp with classic Bat-villains let loose on their own and teaming up to cause trouble. It owes more to Tarantino’s grind-house classic Kill Bill, with women in stylized costumes performing acrobatic fighting feats never seen in nature, than to common superhero mythos, though of course there’s that, too.

I picked it up because I can’t resist the bad girls. They’re easy to do wrong, sure, but I think there’s so much more possibility for a really interesting female character, at least in superhero-dom, in a transgressive villain. I love Catwoman because she’s always walked that line–she’s part noir femme fatale and part straight-up supervillain, with just enough heroine in her to keep your sympathy.

Here she isn’t quite up to her old tricks, and a run-in with a frat-boy wannabe bad guy takes more out of her than she’d like to admit. Poison Ivy saves her and brings her to the house she’s sharing with Harley Quinn and another familiar face, who hasn’t had much say in the matter. The all-bad-girl team-up is fraught with tension and mistrust from the beginning, of course, and the biggest problem is the one question that Harley and Ivy assume the Catwoman must know the answer to: Who is Batman?

I’m sure there have been complaints about the art–that the girls are oversexualized, that Harley’s wearing a schoolgirl uniform–and maybe it just says something about my comic-reading tastes, but I didn’t find them offensive. Guillem March’s art is hyperstylized and kinetic, with characters male and female twisting and bending into shapes not usually seen in nature, and the characters strike me as less sexualized than simply, well, comic-booky.

The three leads are very different women, and by virtue of their constant second billing have always been a bit of a stereotype, but giving them their own series allows for them to be fleshed out a bit more. I’m hoping for more especially from Harley, who has less to do in this first issue as far as character development goes, though she does get to kick some butt. Paul Dini is definitely capable of doing dark, as is hinted in the treatment of poor Eddie Nigma by Ivy and by the brief mention of the Mad Hatter, and I rather hope he goes for it in this series–I’d love to see a series where these three characters can really let loose all the screwed-up bits of their psyches and yet retain our interest and sympathy.

From Moonstone Books $3.99

Written by Joe Gentile

Art by Carlos Magno and Andy Bennett

Yes, just a little more Sherlock Holmes. I couldn’t resist this one after having reviewed work from SelfMadeHero and Dynamite Entertainment. A matching of Sherlock Holmes with the ’70s TV series, “Kolchak: The Night Stalker” sounds goofy but Moonstone Books is up for the challenge.

“Cry of Thunder,” a three issue comic, written by Joe Gentile, begins in 1890 out in the Wild West as two desperados peer at something weird just out of our sight. We then cut to present day LA at the modest offices of the Hollywood Dispatch. Kolchak’s purple prose is in full swing as he describes his good luck: Brandy Lexton, a pretty young woman, is interested in him helping solve a 100-year-old unsolved murder. She even provides him with an old journal full of clues.

Once alone with the book, he is chilled to the bone to see his own name scrawled within its writings but where exactly, or why, we do not know. Kolchak proceeds to read the journal which makes up the rest of Issue One. We are in London in 1905 as a new Holmes case takes shape involving the murder of Brandy’s ancestor, Clara Lexton. It turns out she was killed by a gun runner. This leads to Holmes disguised as a sailor, in mortal combat, after he’s gotten a little too close to a syndicate trafficking in American machine guns to the UK.

An opportunity to build on the momentum of the first issue is lost in the next when the assignments of the two artists are muddled. In Issue One, it was the light line style of Carlos Magno that illustrated the Holmes story and the rough style of Andy Bennett that illustrated the Kolchak story. It made perfect sense.

However, in Issue Two, we find the two artists working together through both stories and it’s like a third, painterly, style has emerged. It’s pretty good but the work is not nearly as tight and there are a lot of scenes that appear rushed, especially a less than dramatic fight scene between Holmes and a thug. I can’t fault the artists for experimenting. Overall, I dig what they’re doing but I still prefer what they started to do in the first issue.

I also have a little constructive criticism for the writing. I think that we might get bogged down with details a little too much for what should be a smoother ride given all the great elements at play. I would have preferred more solid connections between Kolchak and Brandy. I think I would have created a few back and forth scenes between the Holmes story and Kolchak and Brandy reading and reacting to it. Those opportunities to interact would have allowed clues to flow more easily and would have made their unlikely romance more plausible.

Issue Three has a lot of things to resolve but it catches a nice push at the end of this current issue. We get a little payoff on the last page as we get a full view of the highly coveted photograph that could explain everything while revealing something out of a nightmare.

The Trial of Sherlock Holmes #2 (of 5)

Written by Leah Moore and John Reppion

Art by Aaron Campbell

Cover Art by John Cassady

Dynamite Entertainment $3.50 US

The Trial of Sherlock Holmes is a new Holmes tale and a “locked room” mystery that finds Holmes appearing to be the only possible murder suspect in this five issue series published by Dynamite Entertainment. Poe’s The Murders in the Rue Morgue is considered the first locked room mystery and first detective story. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, among other writers, would build on the idea of a shrewd detective with an assistant/narrator as well as the idea of an impossible crime.

It’s a puzzle within a puzzle and lots of fun. Considering it’s been done by some of the best writers around, the bar is set pretty high for the writing team of Leah Moore and John Reppion but they are no strangers to telling a good yarn, particularly a good Victorian one. This is Alan Moore’s daughter and son-in-law and they’ve learned from the legendary storyteller. They’ve been around for awhile now and have gotten some credits under their belts. I suspect this could be their best work yet.

The art of Aaron Campbell picks up nicely from the impressive cover art of John Cassady. It looks like Campbell did his homework and studied the original Holmes illustrations by Sidney Paget and built on that. Campbell’s style also makes me think of the gritty noirish art of Sean Phillips, Ed Brubaker’s partner in crime for a  number of books including, Incognito. Interestingly enough, among the many comments of praise on the back of the first issue is a quote from Brubaker: “A fantastic opening shot, literally, to a great new Holmes mystery that I can’t wait to read the next chapter of.”

That opening shot is quite impressive with its steady pacing leading up to a dramatic explosion that sets the plot off and running. It is 1895 and a quarter of London’s East End is in flames after a bomb is detonated. A threatening letter is sent to Sir Samuel Henry, a retired police official, demanding that, unless he remains at his home at precisely seven the next evening, more explosions will follow. Sir Henry requests that Holmes be at his side at that hour. Holmes obliges and subsequently is found in Sir Henry’s room with gun in hand and a dead Sir Henry. Not only that, but it appears that Sir Henry had evidence proving Sherlock Holmes to be the infamous criminal mastermind, Professor Moriarty.

So, here we are into Issue Two and into a devilish mystery. Hats off to colorist Tony Aviña for his deft handling of moody colors and lighting. There is quite a lot of play with light to see as in an engaging scene with Watson struggling over what little clues he has before him bathed in lamp light. Campbell’s bold use of marks across a face or surface in place of more delicate lines adds to the suspense. All well in good for an issue that continues to set the tone for this story.

By the end of this issue, Holmes has escaped from prison and Watson has snuck into the crime scene and found another clue. This last one appears to be a scrap of paper. This could lead back to the threatening letter sent to Sir Henry. Perhaps Sir Henry sent it to himself. Or maybe it was from Mrs. Gammage, the overbearing housekeeper. For now, Holmes is on the loose disguised as an English bobby with only his wits to rely upon. Like Ed Brubaker, I can’t wait to see what happens next.

The Last Days of Animal Man #2

Written by Gerry Conway

Pencils by Chris Batista

Inks by Dave Meikis

Cover Art by Brian Bolland

DC Comics

My comics tastes tend toward the offbeat and that’s what made me curious about The Last Days of Animal Man. It’s a pretty odd title and the Brian Bolland covers are really eye-popping.

The cover to Issue One has Animal Man and a pack of various animals running toward the reader, all as skeletons, which is a tribute to the first run of Animal Man in the same pose with the same animals. Issue Two has Animal Man suspended in midair as a Green Lantern whale keeps him aloft with a powerful green light beam. Bolland’s art has graced quite a number of Animal Man covers over the years and so it makes sense for him to be around for this six issue limited run. It also makes sense to have Gerry Conway killing off Animal Man since he’s the guy who killed off Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker’s famous first love. That alone makes it interesting to me but this isn’t the offbeat read I had expected.

Animal Man began with a few appearances in Strange Adventures in the ’60s and never took off until, twenty years later, Grant Morrison turned him into something cool and experimental. Buddy Baker was no longer just some guy who finds himself with super powers after a fateful encounter with an alien. With Morrison, the whole language of comics is explored with Buddy Baker speaking back to the reader as well as Morrison. Animal Man was offbeat and unconventional and found a home with Vertigo but, after being passed along to different writers, the trend has been to make Animal Man less weird and more a superhero which this current run conforms to.

It’s not a bad little story so far. It’s one of those fantasy segments with events twenty years or so into the future. Buddy Baker and his lovely wife, Ellen, still live in San Diego, which has undergone a rebirth after suffering a Katrina-like deadly storm. Buddy is starting to feel his age and is struggling with a mid-life crisis that only gets worse each time he’s called upon to use his super powers which continue to fail him. Ellen sells time shares instead of being an artist. The kids have left home. Life is a bit boring. Buddy and Ellen maintain a sunny California youthful look but that is little consolation. Not even Botox can smooth away the pain.

The domestic troubles seem more a hint at what Animal Man used to explore more fully in its heyday. Issue Two, with its Green Lantern tie-in, really makes no bones about the fact Animal Man is being marched out for review as a standard-issue superhero. The Green Lantern sequence is fun with the whale’s charming salutation, “Friend, of my friends.” The other workhorse in this issue goes back to Animal Man’s archrival, Mirror Master. Twenty years have passed, long enough for Mirror Master’s daughter to be all grown up and ready to kick some ass in her brand spanking new identity as Prismatik.

Towards the end of the issue, Animal Man finds a way to get his mojo back and, in a fight scene with the formidable Prismatik, is close to killng her until the Justice League descends upon him. Apparently, Superman, The Flash, Power Girl, and all the rest, need to have a talk with Animal Man. He is a standard-issue superhero and he better not forget that.

Quick, think “autobiographical graphic novel.”

What comes to mind?  A black and white trade paperback, containing the intentionally rough, scratchy, simplified artwork of a twenty- or thirtysomething revealing intimate details of their love life? Maybe a black and white trade paperback version of a memoir, in which the middle-aged author discusses a particularly interesting aspect of his or her life, like coming to grips with a new child or dealing with a terrible disease?

Well, C. Tyler’s You’ll Never Know Book One: A Good and Decent Man (Fantagraphics Books) isn’t like that, nor is it much like any other autobio comic I’ve encountered.

The form of the book distinguishes it immediately. It’s a big, huge rectangle, a foot across, and 10.75 inches high, although it’s only 100 pages long, and the story is expected to continue into two more books. The form (like the amount of color) sets it apart from many of the works in its genre, but that’s no necessarily why it’s in that form—it also serves the story.

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Pope Hats #1

Written and Drawn by Ethan Rilly

32 pages, 6″ x 9″, $4 US

Distributed by AdHouse Books

Everybody wants to rule the world. The characters in Ethan Rilly’s Pope Hats would love to rule over their own lives. We’re invited to see them try.

Don’t let it ever be said that there isn’t room for another comic about whining aimless youth. Meet Franny and Vickie. Two friends who have recently decided to share a house and who seem at their best when they’re not doing much of anything outside of witty remarks. The opening scene finds the two inside a KFC as Vickie eats and Franny observes, “I’m convinced that I spend an outrageous portion of my life watching you eat.” The conversations and the art work are executed with crisp panache. The thin brush lines go well with the dry wit similar in spirit to the work of Gabrielle Bell.

As the night progresses, we are privy to a callow conversation between the girls and a couple of boys, Louis and Peter. It is Vickie’s hope to get to know Peter better. Instead, Vickie gets wasted, has to leave the bar, and pukes in an alley. She is the aspiring actress and eveything must be dramatic for her. She steadies herself a little as she announces she will continue to vomit in a Boston accent. Franny is the more responsible one. She’s a legal assistant and doesn’t seem to have any interests outside of work.

They tell you in art school to create something that you are compelled to do. Anyone can draw a scene with a couple of girls chatting and maybe throw in a few other devices. Someone who is compelled to say something is going to take it further. That’s what Ethan Rilly is doing. I can sense a driving force at work. After all the cute banter, we find the spotlight falling on Franny as she discovers Vickie has wandered off in search of a boy or a hot dog in the middle of the night. Once alone, Franny begins talking to a cartoon ghost she’s spoken with before. The dialogue is funny but it can also be read as a meditation on loneliness.

Who is Frances Scarland? We know she’s what keeps Vickie together. We know she’s loyal to her job, she’s pretty mild-mannered, and she talks to a ghost. Maybe that’s more than enough for a girl of 23 or so. Maybe it’s a perfect picture of someone young who is trying to cope with an uncertain future, just a few steps away from the nearest Zoloft.

After a one page interlude depicting an old man cleaning out his yard, the last section of the book is an extended monologue of Franny talking about, what else, ghosts. Maybe this is Franny at that party she was racing on her bicycle to get to from the feature story. She had just had what she hoped would be her final talk with her cartoon ghost.

Did you give Mysterius the Unfathomable a try during its DC Comics WildStorm six issue run? After reading the last issue of the series, out last week, I’m as big a fan as when I started and I can only hope that this is not the last we see of the magician/mystic/detective and his lovely assistant, Delfi.

Created by the team of writer Jeff Parker (Agents of Atlas) and artist Tom Fowler (Mad Magazine), this series says goobye for now. A lot has been said about the quality of this series to which I add that this is one you’ll want to read more of once you let yourself inside this fully realized world of quirky supernatural goodness.

It’s in the last couple of issues that things come to head between Mysterius and Delfi. With their lives in mortal danger, Delfi lashes out at her boss for being so selfish as to allow them both to get into such a mess. Just when he needs her the most, she abandons him. Of course, Mysterius does not realize how badly he’s behaved or how badly he needs Delfi. In the end, they both may need each other far more than they could ever admit.

And that is at the heart of this story. Nevermind, for a moment, the witches, the zombies, and the pits of hell that also make up the plot. Basically, this is a buddy story. Mysterius may seem to be a dapper yet bumbling middle-aged man with a pot belly. But, when he’s teamed up with the right assistant (this time it would be Ella Tamblyn aka Delfi) he has a better than even chance at summoning his formidable magical powers. It also helps if he can somehow make a human connection with his Delfi and, despite himself, he just might be able to inspire her to help him. Some pretty successful comics titles are based on much less. The foundation is in place for this series to come back with a bang and I would prefer it to be sooner than later. Check out the Word Balloon interview with Jeff Parker where he says he’d love to pursue more Mysterius comics and would definitely see a possible TV show. His first choice for an actor to play Mysterius would be Geoffrey Rush. I still see Bill Murray as a contender but I can see why Rush would fit right in.

Thanks to the artistry of Tom Fowler and colorist Dave McCaig, all hell can break loose spectacularly in this final issue. Human (and nonhuman) excess runs amok in this satire of Burning Man which is worthy of the best Mad Magazine parody. Much has been said about the European look of this comic. I would go ahead and say it is a European style, both in the writing and art, which is made up of elegant detail, delicate exaggeration, and overall irreverence. Most of these characters are mercilessly drawn with more than a little junk in the trunk. Things are played up for laughs and it works quite well here even when depicting minions from hell battling zombies. Americans can sometimes take things too seriously, including minions from hell and zombies.

Understandably, Mysterius the Unfathomable is a special taste, sort of like Seaguy, but easily accessible. Once you get the collected trade to this year’s best kept secret in comics, you’ll see what the fuss is about and you’ll enjoy lingering over it. Here’s a sample of a nice added touch of spookiness. Delfi and Mysterius are en route to see a client when Delfi thinks she sees something strange:

Delfi: Wait–No…How did he turn the other way so quick? Look here, bird!

Mysterius: You…can’t see his face?

(pause)

Mysterius: Did that bird not have a face?

Delfi: Well, I’m sure it did, I just couldn’t see it. No big deal, sorry to stop everything. I just do that.

Mysterius: No, it is a big deal if it was a portent. Faceless bird…

Delfi: Can’t a portent be for something good?

Mysterius: Almost never.

Towards the end of this story, just when everyone should be resting easy in a comfy epilogue, off in a corner, there it is again, that bird without a face. What a cool and eerie way to say that Mysterius remains at your service.

OK, I know it’s a cliche for comic fangirls to have crushes on Gambit, but in the interest of full disclosure–well, you get the picture. Especially in the wake of the luscious Taylor Kitsch in the Wolverine movie, my lust has been rekindled.

Marvel decided to toy with my emotions further on this one and have Mike Carey write Gambit’s origin story. Mike Carey! I think I may have squealed out loud when I read that. It takes a lot to make me buy superhero books, but an origin story for a character I dig, written by a writer I love? Sign me up.

The only downside? Is this really the only issue we get, guys? I mean, really? You finally give us a Gambit origin story, and it’s only a one-shot? That’s such a tease.

It reflects in the comic, too. It’s not so much an origin story as a selection of flashbacks, unfinished stories-within-a-story that don’t really add up to anything. Each little section of this comic could’ve been a full book–or several books–in itself. Instead, we get a bunch of setups without any payoff, never a complete story.

It’s even sadder because the art is truly beautiful, lush settings, closeups so real you could reach through and touch them, and yes, a shirtless fight scene (thanks, guys). What I wouldn’t do for several more books with this creative team working on this character…

Neil Swaab’s comic strip Rehabilitating Mr. Wiggles is pretty much the same as Jim Davis’ Garfield. The only differences are the details and the degree.

Garfield is, of course, about an overweight house cat and his often adversarial relationship with the loser human being he lives with. Rehabilitating Mr. Wiggles is about a teddy bear and his often adversarial relationship with the loser human being he lives with.

Garfield’s human foil is a stay-at home cartoonist named Jon who never seems to be working, and is always complaining about his inability to achieve what he wants in life. Mr. Wiggles’ human foil is a stay-at home cartoonist named Neil who never seems to be working, and is always complaining about his inability to achieve what he wants in life.

Much of the humor in Garfield is derived from the lead character’s vices: His laziness, his gluttony, his selfishness and his readiness to hurt others in his life, emotionally or physically (usually by throwing something in Jon’s face, or kicking Odie off a table). Much of the humor in Mr. Wiggles is derived from its lead character’s vices: His drug problem, his many sexual deviances, his pedophilia and his readiness to hurt Neil (usually by hitting him in the genitals, or sexually violating him while he’s sleeping).

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Two comics for the price of one: that’s the idea. You get a regular full-length comic, and then you get a nine-page original extra story at the back. In this case, you tag a nine-page story of a character with a cult following that has been bitterly disappointed with her cancellation onto a brand-new original monthly that ties in to the other major DCU event of the moment. It’s win-win, right?

Well, it doesn’t have to be, but in this case it definitely is. I was one of the people more interested in the Manhunter backup than the Streets of Gotham story, but I’m glad I had to buy one to get the other. Streets of Gotham may tie into the rest of the Bat-books, but I didn’t feel at all lost reading it. Paul Dini knows his noir, could do it in his sleep, but here he’s having fun giving a bunch of lesser-known (translation: I hadn’t heard of ‘em) Gotham characters a workout.

Dustin Nguyen’s art manages to be cheery and dark in the same book, often in the same panel, but the book’s real charm is in living up to its name. It’s a superhero story, but one that takes place on the street and feels more like a crime drama, bringing a grittier, more realistic feel to the stories. It’s Batman from an outsider’s view, and it’s worth a read.

The street feel leads nicely into the backup feature. Kate Spencer’s been transported to Gotham to act as the new DA, but she hasn’t left her crime-fighting proclivities in LA–though she has left her son, a feature that will no doubt come back in later issues. Nine pages is basically only enough to set up a story, so this one was mostly exposition, but it manages to fill in the gaps with Kate beating a story out of someone rather than with simple conversation.

Manhunter was already a pretty dark book, and things are probably unlikely to lighten up for Kate Spencer in Gotham. The real question will be managing to make the backup features worth the money for readers who aren’t thrilled with the main title, but the creative team on this one (Marc Andreyko and Georges Jeanty) suggests that DC isn’t skimping on the backup book any more than they are on the front.

Together, the two make a nice pair of noir stories to roughen up your pile of superhero books–or to superhero-up your pile of rough books, in my case. In this case, the experiment gets two thumbs up. My only suggestion would be a bigger indication on the front cover that there’s another feature in the back. I wouldn’t have noticed the band across the bottom on the stand, particularly on the stands that some stores have that obscure the bottom half of the cover.

As a boutique publisher, AdHouse Books doesn’t put out a ton of comics each year, but what they may lack in quantity they certainly make up for in quality—I just read two of their recent releases, and they were among the best comics I’ve read so far this year.

The first was Fred Chao’s Johnny Hiro Vol. 1, a trade paperback collecting the first three issues of the serially published comic, plus two more stories that would have been published serially as comic books, if that were still feasible in today’s comics market (Plus a bunch of one-page gag strips).

I spoke at length about the considerable virtues of Chao’s Johnny Hiro in this space before, specifically on how Diamond’s changing minimum standards might affect a great comic like this that was being created specifically as a serial comic book, so I’ll try not to repeat myself.

If you’ve yet to heed my recommendation, Johnny Hiro is about a young man by that name and his girlfriend Mayumi Murakami, and their struggle to make it in New York City, while plagued by unusual problems, like a Godzilla-like monster, 47 Ronin Businessmen, a knife-wielding cooking staff, and a $50,000 lawsuit seeking damages for the hole in their apartment caused by the kaiju attack. These are on top of their normal people problems, mostly dealing with bills, money, work and, in Mayumi’s case, some discrimination at her place of employment.

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I had every intention of reviewing Jeffrey Brown’s latest memoir, Funny Misshapen Body (Simon & Schuster), today. I was planning on reviewing it right up until I got to the very end of the book, and in a post-epilogue, F.A.Q. like sequence he addressed my main difficulty with the book:

Like Brown’s “Girlfriend Trilogy” books, Funny Misshapen Body is structured out of sequence with time, with different sections jumping over and over, so that he’s telling cumulative anecdotes rather than a story, and those anecdotes become the story by the time it’s finished.

In the girlfriend books, these sequences are all very short, giving the books episodic natures. Here though, the sequences are entire chapters, and rather than simply covering the course of a young person’s relationship, the cover a major chunk of Brown’s life—decades really.

It doesn’t hurt the integrity of the story, but I wonder if that story might have been served better with a structure. In the panels posted above, Brown explains why he writes his comics like that, and it certainly makes a great deal of sense, but almost all of his comics are structured the same way—even his lighthearted superhero parody Bighead or his awesome Transformers parody book—which made me wonder if Brown was choosing to tell stories that way, or if its become a default.

So I thought I might talk about that a bit in the course of criticizing his book, but then I got to the end there, and come on…

…how can you criticize a guy with a face like that? He’s so sincere in his apology! It’s okay Jeffrey, I forgive you. Maybe it’s not you anyway; maybe it’s just me.

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I understand that the word “mijeong” means “pure beauty” in Korean; at least, that’s what it says on the back of the NBM manhwa collection Mijeong. I’m not sure if the “pure” part necessarily applies to the work of Korean creator Byun Byung-Jun contained within, but I’m positive the “beauty” part does.

The seven stories of Byun’s that fill this book’s pages are each beautifully drawn, regardless of the subject matter, tone or even the style in which they’re drawn—all shift from story to story.

In fact, there’s such variety within these stories that it’s hard to see what it is that holds them together, beyond the creator, and perhaps the level of skill with which they’re illustrated. Most of them are set in the city, and share a certain romantic but bleak outlook, but then there’s a few near the end which are comedic pieces.

As a whole then, I’m not sure how successful a book Mijeong is, if one-person anthologies are to be judged on their cohesiveness, on the way that every part informs the entire work. But I certainly don’t want to sound dismissive of what Byun’s done here either, as there are some pretty great stories in here.

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Those of you who read the first Phonogram trade and missed those thoroughly despicable yet compelling characters in the series’ second incarnation will be thrilled to know that “We Share Our Mother’s Health” is indeed the story of Emily Aster. A story of Emily Aster, really, because Emily strikes me as a woman with many, many stories. It’s part of her charm, if charm was something that she could be bothered to have.

I relate to her, though she’s nasty and frightened and working as hard as she can to keep up with something shallow and silly to leave behind the person she was, the person who hurt. I want to know just how Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie got into the head of a woman stuck trying to stay as pretty as the pretty young things around her, clinging to a rock’n'roll youth that she’s losing fast because she cannot relate to the adult world she’s supposed to be part of.

(Read on.)

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Ethelbert is the king of the tiny country Portocristo. He is also six-years-old.

That’s the premise of Lewis Trondheim and Fabrice Parme’s Tiny Tyrant comics. It’s a premise that, viewed from one angle, seems high concept in a Hollywood pitch for a kids comedy kind of way, and, viewed from another, seems like a pretty incisive observation about the way adults cater to the demands of children, often to the point of foolishness…albeit an observation taken to its humorous extreme.

That extreme is where Trondheim, who writes the feature, keeps the narrative, as not only is Ethelbert a spoiled brat, but he’s a spoiled brat with absolute, unquestionable power over all of the adults in his world. They must all always bend to his whims, no matter how ridiculous those whims may be. Hilarity, therefore, often ensues.

The half-dozen stories collected in Tiny Tyrant Vol. 1: The Ethelbertosaurus were previously collected by First Second in a 2007; this collection is apparently a new, more album-like format that seems to serve the material very well.

The title story involves Ethelbert’s attempts to get a really cool dinosaur named after him, upon discovering that a new species a paleontoligist discovered in the kingdom was a tiny, bird-sized one. This involves forcing his scientists to genetically recreate a dinosaur and to time travel (I guess there is something to be said for iron-fisted dictatorship after all).

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Scarlett Takes Manhattan

by Molly Crabapple and John Leavitt

48 pages, trade paperback, $12.95 US

Published by Fugu Press

Due out in July, Pre-Order thru Amazon

Sweet and naughty, Scarlett Takes Manhattan is an assured sexy romp through Victorian New York with the beautiful Scarlett on a journey of self-discovery. Warren Ellis calls it, “disgustingly wonderful.” Coming from the creator of some pretty sexy stuff, like Anna Mercury, you have to wonder what he means. Well, this book is absolutely erotically charged and delightfully so. Molly Crabapple has a deep love for her subject matter, vaudeville, erotica, comics, and it shows. Her evolution as an artist, with her illustration work and with Dr. Sketchy’s Anti-Art School Cabaret, leads her to a successful first graphic novel. 

Two glasses of cocktails with cherries looking very much like boobs on page one prepares us for what lies ahead. We next find Scarlett in bed with her lover as she tells the story of her life. It all begins quite innocently enough as a girl from the slums, Shifra Helfgott, eighteen and sexually curious, goes to the city to see a circus parade. She witnesses two elephants copulating which foretells her life’s path mixing sex with show business.

This is the 1880s and so opportunities are slim to none for Shifra, poor, uneducated and orphaned. As a charwoman, she learns that providing sexual favors can help ease her life. It’s then that she crosses paths with theatre impressario, Daniel D’Lovely. She discovers her sexual appeal on stage and Daniel’s secret once they become lovers. In time, she realizes she’ll need to develop a talent in order to remain relevant in vaudeville. This leads to her becoming the star fire-eater, Scarlett O’Herring. 

Shifra’s transformation into Scarlett is handled with sensitivity. As the character gains more control over her life, she becomes more complex as well as more conniving. She reahes a point where she must choose between her friends and betraying them for even greater power and wealth. Here is where the story tackles a little politics and gives us a taste of the corruption of the times with a hint at how little has changed. We also further explore the unique relationship between Daniel and Scarlett and whether they can remain loyal to each other no matter how their lives evolve.

In the end, Scarlett Takes Manhattan maintains a nice head of steam. Nothing too heavy here. What is remarkable is Molly Crabapple’s approach. Considering how sex is portrayed in comics, let alone all media, it is refreshing how Crabapple maintains our interest by celebrating sex rather than exploiting it. What else would you expect from a cartoonist who appreciates toasted marshmallow milkshakes?

Ghost Comics

An anthology edited by Ed Choy Moorman

176 pages, 6″ x 9″, $10 US

www.edsdeadbody.com

There is so much good stuff emerging from the MoCCA Comics Arts Festival and here is one fine example: Ghost Comics, an anthology to benefit RS Eden, an agency for changing lives in Minnesota. Put together by Ed Choy Moorman, this book recently won a Xeric Grant.

One standout is Evan Palmer’s story, “The Trials of Sir Goodnight.” The sharp clean lines and details are very impressive, especially the panel that cuts to the severed head of the beast. The anthology bio section mentions that Palmer does background drawings for Vertigo’s The Unwritten. What a cool gig for a recent art school grad!

Another must-see is Kevin Cannon’s “The Architecturons” which is, you guessed it, a parody of The Transformers made up to be super-powered architecture. This is the one piece that stretches the ghost theme to the most absurd level.

If I were to do a ghost theme comic, I’d go with something about ghosts from our former selves. Some contributors agree such as Lucy Knisley’s “Unlearning Curve” where she looks back on life in her teens. It’s a nice piece by the creator of the celebrated, French Milk. I also liked Will Dinski’s “Mind-Mapping” which follows the struggles of a man haunted by the ghosts of past mistakes and mishaps.

A couple of melancholy pieces that work well include Jeffrey Brown’s “Great Ghosts.” His page is a nice example of what he does best: showing how awkward and disconnected we can be when that’s the last thing we really want to be. Ed Choy Moorman’s “Dear Dave” is on a similar track complete with playlist.

And then there are a couple that really spooked me. One is John Hankiewicz’s “The  Offering” which you’ve got to read over until you’re ready to move on. Set in a church just off the highway, a young man peers at a very strange ritual throughout the night.

The other particularly eerie tale is Hob’s “The Witness” which might make a beautiful answer to whatever happened to Winsor McCay’s Gertie, the Dinosaur. It is certainly full of that type of wonderment. For fans of Hob, this finds him in true form.

And props to Allegra Lockstadt for such an awesome cover illustration.

Woman King

Written and Drawn by Colleen Frakes

88 pages, 5.5″ x 5.5″, $7 US

www.iknowjoekimpel.com

www.tragicrelief.blogspot.com

Here is a quintessential comic from MoCCA making its debut this year: Colleen Frake’s Woman King, a continuation on her take on fables and myth. Since her Xeric winning Tragic Relief, her work has gotten sharper and the scope of her storytelling keeps getting more complex. A recent graduate of the Center for Cartoon Studies, Frakes finds herself coming into her own with Woman King giving us a distinctive style and vision.

This is a hero myth turned on its head about the nature of war. In the middle of this is a girl being raised by wild bears. The bears are depicted as normally fun-loving gentle creatures who are led by one bear to rid the forest of abusive humans. Well, all humans, actually, except for the girl.

There is a fascinating internal logic at play in Woman King. The bear leader’s message is kill or be killed. The girl, a sort of Patty Hearst among terrorist bears, is becoming wiser to her surroundings, finding evidence that the bears are no better than the humans, but her sympathies remain with the bears. In one sense, I am intrigued mostly by the relentless telling of this tale. The characters are so vividly rendered and the pacing is spot on. But, to be sure, there is a satisfying ending to this thoughtful little tale.

One of the great things about reading comics today is that we’re well past the point in the medium ’s history where they were all for kids, and finally getting past the point where so many of their adult readers felt compelled to reflexively, defensively declare that comics most definitely are not for kids anymore.

Melvin Monster, a ten-issue series Dell published in 1965, was most assuredly a kids comic. It wasn’t all-ages, or a comic for teenagers or young adults like Marvel’s comics of the period, but for children.

But Melvin Monster Vol. 1, the first collection in Drawn and Quarterly’s John Stanley Library line, is for both children and adults, addressing both audiences in different ways simultaneously. I think that, in itself, is pretty cool. As cool as it might have been to be nine-years-old in the mid-‘60s and buy an issue of the series off the spinner rack in the drugstore, it’s even cooler to have this gorgeous, hardcover objet d’art  in my hands as a grown man, and be able to appreciate it as a member of whichever audience I feel like reading it as, or to be able to hand it over to one of my nieces (provided her hands are clean) or a friend whose as interested in art and illustration  and know either one of them are really going to dig it.

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