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.

The clever idea at the center of Dracula: The Company of Monsters is an obvious one, suggested by the “Bloodsucker vs. Bloodsuckers” tagline on the back of the first volume collecting the ongoing series.

Dracula may have been a ruthless prince who impaled his foes, literally did a deal with the literal devil and became an undead blood-drinking fiend, but at least he’s not a modern CEO.

The “You know who the real monsters are…?” statement is a staple of horror and monster entertainment, and its one this comic has the cognizance to apply to the major problems of the day. Certainly the commentary may at times be a little too pointed, as when Dracula makes a “That is the difference between a prince and a chief executive” speech, disgusted that the corporate CEO that engineered his resurrection and is keeping him chained in the company HQ’s basement has laid off hundreds of workers in order to improve the balance sheet.

But then, perhaps there is some poetry in a the sub-text of a story about the undead refusing to stay buried.
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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.

On the surface, Rob Vollmar and M.P. Mann’s Inanna’s Tears (Archaia) is an engaging period drama, set almost as far back in recorded history as one can go, as the means by which history gets recorded are just being invented in the course of the story. More specifically? The city of Sumer within the Middle East’s fertile crescent, some 5,000 years ago.

The known world seems built around the city, while the city seems built around the temple, and the temple is built around the goddess Inanna. She is represented by her earthly consort, a sort of high priest, who names his own successor at the end of his life.

The last high priest chooses Entika, a young woman, to succeed him as Inanna’s consort and mouthpiece, which stresses her relationship with fellow temple servant Anarin and aspects of city government, while emboldening a wicked leader of the people who live outside the city’s gates.

On the surface, it works quite well.
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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.

A mid-life crisis can strike at any time—in fact, for the semi-fictitous version of cartoonist Joe Ollmann in Mid-Life, it seems like he’s been having them fairly regularly since he was seventeen, and alludes to several of them throughout this book.

This book chronicles one of those crises. In his forties with two adult daughters from his previous marriage and a baby son with his new, much-young wife, the (hopefully very) fictitious John is having all sorts of existential problems regarding his life as a father, a husband, a cat-owner, a boss, and employee and a man, problems that eventually reach a crisis point when he becomes unhealthily focused on Sherri Smalls, a Raffi-like children’s entertainer he discovers while watching a video with his infant son.

Unlike many similar comics of the autobiographical or (seriously, hopefully quite) fictionalized autobiographical genre, the grumpy, bitter, aging protagonist shares the spotlight with the object of his misguided affection.

The Sheri character exists as a sort of co-protagonist, narrating chapters that chronicle her own mid-life crisis—which, for her, comes at age 33—and she finds the opportunity to sign with a network to do her own Saturday morning TV show a sort of crossroads in her life. Will she sell out and live comfortably, or will she chuck it all and follow her dream of being a singer/songwriter for grown-ups? And will she ever meet the older man of her dreams?
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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.

Like most of the people who will probably end up reading cartoonist Adrian Tomine’s Scenes From an Impending Marriage, I wasn’t part of the work’s original intended audience.

The version I’m reading is the little, five-by-six-inch hardcover that Drawn and Quarterly published and is selling for about $10. The short, connected stories that make up the work were apparently originally produced as a wedding gift from the real Tomine and his real fiancée to the guests at their wedding.

The final story in the slim volume, before the epilogue, features the couple trying to decide what to give as a gift, and once Tomine pooh-poohs a few ideas, his fiancée suggests he make “a little comic book…you could do a bunch of short strips about us getting ready for the wedding!”

The story ends with the Tomine characters sighing, and saying he’ll think about it.

Personally, I’m glad he decided to do a bunch of short strips about them getting ready for the wedding, and gladder still that I was able to get a copy, even though I wasn’t a guest at the wedding (So, uh, thanks Tomine! And an extremely belated congratulations to you and your wife!).
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It Came From the NYPL

The Man in the Ceiling
Written & Illustrated by Jules Feiffer
Published by HarperCollins

Having recently read Jules Feiffer’s strong memoir Backing into Forward, I felt compelled to sample some of Feiffer’s children’s book output. His glowing regard for the form makes it nearly impossible to ignore the them, particularly given my high regard for his cartooning. So I checked The Man in the Ceiling out of the library, and it’s well worth it. It’s enjoyable for adults, and if you have younger children, I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Jimmy can’t throw or catch or hit a baseball; he’s basically a failure as boy. However, he’s a fantastic artist and dreams of becoming a famous cartoonist (the theme should be familiar if you’ve read Feiffer’s memoir). His uncle is a failure as a playwright, but finds success suddenly on his doorstep. And the only popular boy who notices Jimmy likes his drawings, but has “better” ideas about comic book stories. Mix an emotionally distant father learning to express himself, an artist mother who designs women’s fashions, a bossy older sister who encourages Jimmy’s artwork, and an adoring younger sister who pesters Jimmy to no end, and you have the framework of The Man in the Ceiling.

Feiffer’s engaging and fun prose possesses plenty of wordplay humor to keep adults reading to their children engaged, while the story itself explores the terrible heartache of creativity and failed creative ventures. Regular illustrations, both of the characters themselves and of Jimmy’s comic books, spice up the proceedings, adding humor and humanity. Through all the heartache of Jimmy and his uncle’s struggles, Feiffer uses dollops of humor to keep the book upbeat and pleasant. And while the subject of dreams lost and dreams compromised runs throughout, The Man in the Ceiling excels through Feiffer’s strong interpersonal dynamics, weaving a deeper understanding of all the book’s themes by exploring the complex connections between Jimmy and his family.

If I had young children, no doubt this book would be purchased and add to my library. For now, however, I’m glad I can explore the many creative avenues of talents like Jules Feiffer by finding excellent books like The Man in the Ceiling at my library. Hopefully you can find it at yours.

Elmer
Written & Illustrated by Gerry Alanguilan
Published by SLG

After reading Gerry Alanguilan’s chicken-centric Elmer, I’m left wishing that he didn’t need to spend precious hours inking other people’s comics to pay the bills.  So I’ll ask you all to go pick up a copy of this amazing book so Alanguilan will have money and time to devote to his own comics.

Elmer tells of a world where chickens, spontaneously, gain human-level intelligence. Told via the framing device of a son reading a father’s journal, the story deals simultaneously with its titular lead character’s struggle for acceptance in the post-talking-chicken world, while his son, Jake, copes with his father’s death and the anger that comes of being a disrespected, often mistreated minority. Firstly, Elmer is beautifully drawn, with detailed renderings and careful pacing. Alanguilan lays out each page precisely, building emotional connections with close-ups, while pulling back to give proper impact and scale to the dramatic confrontations that occur frequently throughout the narrative.

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Usagi Yojimbo: The Special Edition
Written & Illustrated by Stan Sakai
Published by Fantagraphics

If you’ve been reading my musings for a while now, you’ll know this: Usagi Yojimbo is my favorite comic book of all time.  Ever since it was announced, I’ve been jonesing for Fantagraphics’ Usagi Yojimob: The Special Edition – a two-volume, slipcased hardcover collection of the first seven Usagi trade paperbacks. Nearly 1200 pages of Stan Sakai story-and-art goodness, with an extensive color art gallery (the first time I’ve seen most of those early covers in color), sketches and short-story odds-n’-ends. So my saintly wife gave me this striking tome for Christmas. Yes, I am a hell of a lucky guy.

Among the highlights of The Special Edition is the ease of witnessing Sakai’s growth as a writer, artist and storyteller. While the illustration in the earliest chapters is already solid, Sakai’s linework grows visibly more assured and looser, giving the pages a liveliness not seen in many comics. Similarly, the layouts evolve to capture the quiet elegance of the Japanese countryside, the gut-turned terror of Jei (comics’ best villain) or the kinetic ballet of a samurai duel in pitch-perfect fashion.

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It Came From the NYPL

The Extraordinary Works of Alan Moore
Interview conducted by George Khoury
Published by TwoMorrows

When this book came out, slightly over seven years ago now (how time flies, I thought it was maybe two years ago!), it intrigued me, but didn’t strike me as something I wanted to keep on my bookshelf for eternity. I finally got around to borrowing it from the library, and it’s a perfect library book. Enjoyable, but unnecessary.

For the occasion of Alan Moore’s fiftieth birthday in 2003, Khoury conducted a book-length interview with the celebrated author, touching on nearly every aspect of his career. Rounding out the book are birthday tributes from Moore’s famed comic book collaborators, and introduction and an afterword written by his two daughters, a detailed bibliography of Alan’s published works.

The interview is engaging and insightful, with plenty of material that has been covered in other places, but many nuggets that I’d not encountered before. Remembrances of his childhood, family photos and other early-life details round out the picture of Alan as a person, and tie in, in surprising ways, to the themes and subjects his writing would explore over the rest of his life (to date). All his major comic book series are touched on, as are Alan’s conflicts with the mainstream comics industry. Through it all, Alan’s love of comics and storytelling shines through, as does his belief in the form’s continued artistic possibilities. In short, The Extraordinary Works of Alan Moore works as a fine tribute to one of – perhaps the – most influential comics creator, while granting fans an insightful peek behind the curtain of a creative and highly individualistic author.