Filed under: comix
Incognegro [comic book] / written by Mat Johnson ; art by Warren Pleece ; lettered by Clem Robins.
New York : Vertigo, DC Comics, c2008.
[MCL call number: GN JOHNSON; eight copies, no holds]
Over time, racism and white supremacy have given us many stories that white people like to forget, and people of color can’t help but remember. One very horrific example from the United States’s own history is the story of the lynching of thousands of people of color, mostly African-American men, mostly in the south, and nearly always with the tacit consent of law enforcement and the pillars of the local community.
Lynching was common as dirt in the 1920s, and perpetrators nearly always went free. The white press largely ignored news of lynchings, but Black newspapers often reported on it. Incognegro is set in this context: light-skinned Zane Pinchback, a writer for the New Holland Herald (an African American newspaper based in Harlem) uses his ability to pass for white to attend lynchings and report on them first-hand in his “Incognegro” column. As the comic opens, Pinchback is expressing intense frustration with his success that is not success. He wants to participate in the literary and artistic flowering he’s surrounded by every day in 1920’s Harlem — and although everyone who’s anyone (and lots of folks who are no one in particular) reads “Incognegro,” no one has heard of Zane Pinchback.
During a confrontation on this question with his editor, Pinchback learns that his brother has been arrested for the murder of a white woman in a small Mississippi town, and he agrees to go incognegro one more time to cover the story and try to save his brother’s life. And then the shit really hits the fan. Excellent detective/reporter skills, feats of stupid bravery, the brotherhood of man, happenstance, and straightforward luck help Pinchback to survive an intense couple of days, several plot twists, a bullet wound, and lots of chit chat with racists, Klansmen, and town fathers. Incognegro is a real page-turner, with beautifully expressive art and a completely human (though of course also ghastly) story.
Tintin : the complete companion / Michael Farr.
San Francisco : Last Gasp, c2002.
[MCL call number: 741.59493 H545f 2002; 6 copies, 2 holds]
When I was a kid, my older brothers set the standard for comics-reading. They were dedicated, they were opinionated, and of course they were older than me so I spent a good deal of time trying to be like them. One brother read mostly superheroes: Daredevil, the Fantastic Four, and the Batman; the other generally preferred war and horror comics: Sgt. Rock, House of Horror, and Tales from the Crypt. I diligently read their hand-me-downs, even though most of the time I couldn’t quite see what the thrill was, except that I really liked Daredevil and anything with a girl superhero. However, I was never fully satisfied with superheroes, G.I. Joe, and horror stories, so when I could get to the bookstore that sold used comics for 10 cents a piece I bought Archie, Betty & Veronica, Richie Rich, and 50s-vintage Katy Keene, brothers be damned.
But we all read Tintin. I read all the Tintins I could get my hands on, and I read them as many times as I could. I borrowed them, begged them for presents, and occasionally when I was unusually wealthy, I bought one for myself.
We knew that Tintin and his author/cartoonist Hergé were Belgian, although I always thought Tintin himself had a sort of English flavor. I don’t recall ever once thinking about how Tintin was created, or wondering whether there were any substantive differences between the French-language originals and the translations I read. Little did I know, not only have these and many other Tintin-related questions been seriously studied, but there are enough people firmly dedicated to this work that they have a special name: Tintinoligists.
In Tintin: The Complete Companion, Tintinoligist Michael Farr endeavors to tell the story behind the creation of each and every one of the Tintin books. Farr focuses partly on Hergé’s life; partly on analysis of the Tintin stories as literature and the story of Hergé’s source material for characters, plots, and images; and partly on the history of Tintin publishing. Although Farr’s prose is a little uneven, this combination of subjects makes very interesting reading, especially for anyone familiar with some of the Tintin books. In particular, the juxtaposition of finished Tintin panels and clippings from Hergé’s extensive source files sheds clear light on how the comics were made.
For example, page 32 is entirely taken up with a photograph of the Chanin Building in Chicago, reproduced, the caption says, in the periodical Le Crapouillot. Page 33 shows two versions of the scene Tintin in America when Tintin slips out the window and balances on the teensiest ledge on the outside of a building to escape detection, to listen in on the bad guys’ conversation — the black and white panel from 1932, and the color version from 1945. The book is filled with similar comparisons of source material to finished product: airplanes, automobiles, trains, ships, clothing and jewelry, religious artifacts, exotic fruit, whiskey bottles, city skylines, street scenes, houses, machinery, working harbors, and even people who were the physical models for characters in Tintin’s adventures. The story of how each book was created, the details of the transformation of early books from black and white to color and all the books from French to various translations, and the bits of Hergé’s biography are all interesting, but the evidence showing Hergé’s incredible commitment to accuracy in all the details of illustration is what I found most fascinating.
Each of Farr’s chapters discusses one or two books, and as you have by now gathered, each is liberally illustrated with panels from the early newspaper strip, the revised color edition that came out later, and source photographs and clippings from Hergé’s extensive picture files. Tintin: The Complete Companion has a modest index, but no other supplemental material. In fact, it suffers rather sharply from the lack of any bibliography of Tintinology or Tintin comic books. Despite this lack, I recommend it highly, especially for fond readers of Tintin.
Bookhunter [comic book] / Jason Shiga.
[Portland, OR] : Sparkplug Comic Books, 2007
[Multnomah County Library does not yet have this book, but it has been ordered and should have the call number GN SHIGA; eight copies, one hold]
Imagine that crimes against the library were taken more seriously than they currently are, and you might picture a world in which a crack team of special agents guards the physical and institutional integrity of the Oakland Public Library. In Jason Shiga’s Bookhunter, the library’s police force fills this role amply and well. After an introductory story of a short encounter with a censor (who has stolen all eight copies of The China Lobby in America), Bookhunter follows Agents Bay, Walker, and Finch as they track down an accomplished and slippery rare book thief who has switched out the library’s priceless Caxton bible for a fake.
Bookhunter makes a few erroneous technical assertions that may annoy librarians and other bookish people, but on the whole the world of the library is faithfully articulated in the story, and especially in Shiga’s realistic-cartoon-y drawing style. An early scene follows Agent Bay as he wanders the public and private areas of the Oakland’s Main Library, pondering the methods used by the Caxton thief. The twelve pages of Bay’s quiet library tour are perhaps the most beautiful in the entire book — the circulation desk, the periodicals room, a microfiche reader, the massive 1970s-era catalog in its cardfile, the reading room, the restrooms, the bookmobile; and everywhere patrons, seemingly endless bookstacks, and the gracious spaces that make up the large public rooms of the main library.
The story is action-adventure at its best — the thrill of the chase, the grind of nuts-and-bolts police work, and lovingly related details of setting, personality, and plot make Bookhunter worthy of the attention of comics lovers, library lovers, and undoubtedly many other folk as well.
[thanks, Kristian]
The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service [comic book series] / story, Eiji Otshuka ; art, Housui Yamazaki ; translation, Toshifumi Yoshida ; editor and English adaptation, Carl Gustav Horn ; lettering and touch-up, IHL.
Publication info. Milwaukie, Or. : Dark Horse, 2006- .
[MCL call number: GN OTSUKA; number of copies and holds vary for each volume]
As you no doubt know if you pay attention to popular culture, anyone who has a special, secret gift is in danger of finding himself starring in a comic book. It’s just one of those things.
Kuro Karatsu is a relatively uninspired student at a Buddhist university who is in need of a job. While looking at the university career center’s bulletin board, he hooks up with a group of fellow students who volunteer to chant prayers for the dead. Of course, it turns out they all have unusual abilities that combine to make them especially suited to the work of moving dead bodies around so that their restless spirits can find peace before shuffling off to the afterlife.
Karatsu’s secret turns out to be an uncanny ability to communicate with the recently dead, if he touches them. The rest of the crew have interesting talents as well: Numata is a dowser — only instead of locating water underground, he zeroes in on hidden dead bodies. Sasaki is a computer hacker who makes small change selling pictures of dead bodies on the internet. Makino spent some time studying abroad and learned the embalming trade (rare in Japan, where most people are cremated), and Yata channels a perky alien through a vaguely fish-shaped hand puppet.
In the first episode, Karatsu and his comrades attempt to reunite a suicide victim with his lover, who has also killed herself. They find that the work is both fulfilling and lucrative, and so their de facto mastermind, Sasaki, sets them up as a business concern: Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, “your body is their business!” And more adventures ensue in good time. The story is told with a light hand, and even though many of the details are grim, the overall feeling of the comic is upbeat. It is definitely low-impact reading, but I found it just weird and charming enough to hold my interest.
* * *
The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service is translated from the Japanese, but in a way, it is not completely translated. Comics are a visual medium, and since one of the systems for writing the Japanese language is in vertical lines, read right to left (the other way is written just like English), the panels of the comic are laid out accordingly — right to left, top to bottom. The book’s front cover has the spine on the right side to accommodate this. I found it fairly simple to acclimate myself to the visual structure (maybe I’m used to being confused; I often have trouble figuring out which panel comes next in comics that were composed in English), but it did feel weird at first.
In any case, don’t worry: if you open the book backwards, you will find a helpful set of manga-reading instructions inserted by the U.S. publishers. The back of the book also contains an explanation of the history of the different Japanese writing systems and their use in manga, and a very thorough and helpful glossary to sound effects (which are mostly written in the text in Japanese, outside the word bubbles). There readers will find, among other things, that “batan” is the sound of a headless body hitting the floor; and that when Yata’s puppet’s mouth flaps it makes the noise “paku paku,” which is the sound that the video game Pac-Man is named for.
Art out of time : unknown comics visionaries, 1900-1969 / [compiled by] Dan Nadel.
New York : Abrams, 2006.
[MCL call number: 741.5 A784 2006; three copies, one hold]
This beautiful coffee table-sized book reproduces complete comic books and strips from the best cartoonists, artists, and writers you never heard of. Nearly three hundred pages of riveting, weird, and fantastic comics are laced together with short, intelligent essays describing how, where, and by whom these comics were produced.
There’s not much more for me to say; you really should take a look for yourself.
Lucifer [comic book series] / Mike Carey, writer ; [various artists] ; Daniel Vozzo, colorist ; [various letters] ; based on characters created by Neil Gaiman, Sam Kieth and Mike Dringenberg.
New York : DC Comics, c2001- .
[MCL call number: GN CAREY; number of copies and holds vary for each volume]
First, imagine that the Devil is real. Now speculate on what would happen if he left Hell — just walked away from the place without a care for what would happen there without him.
This is the beginning of a tangent left unfinished by one of our generation’s greatest storytellers, Neil Gaiman, in his epic The Sandman. Carey has taken up the tale of Lucifer and run screaming past the end of the world and back again, several times. Anyone who read even the teensiest bit of Sandman and enjoyed it (or, I have on good authority though I have not read it myself, anyone who is familiar with Milton’s Paradise Lost) will find easy entry into this sharply beautiful series of comics.
Fables [comic book series] / Bill Willingham, writer ; Lan Medina, Mark Buckingham, Craig P. Russell, Tony Akins, pencillers ; Steve Leialoha, Craig Hamilton, Jimmy Palmiotti, inkers ; Sherilyn van Valkenburgh, Daniel Vozzo, colorists ; Todd Klein, letterer.
New York : DC Comics, c2002- .
[MCL call number: GN WILLINGHA; number of copies and holds vary for each volume]
Imagine that the fairy tales are real. All those people (including the animal people), they’re all regular folks. Then imagine that there is an enormous war in the world where they live, and that after getting their asses kicked by the forces of evil, the fables are forced to flee their world. Some make it through the gap into, well, to here. Modern, present-day, our-version-of-earth. The one you’re in right now, where you’re reading this.
Now the fables have established a kingdom in exile in New York City — those who got out have, anyway, Beauty, the Beast, Little Boy Blue, Cinderella, and others. Except, obviously if you’re one of the Three Little Pigs or Thumbelina, you’re not going to blend right into 21st century urban life, so the animal and other un-human-looking folk live at “The Farm” in upstate New York. The fable community has its own laws, institutions, holidays, traditions, and taboos — in short, it’s a whole culture, and the fact that fable society has to exist undetected underneath the surface of human society puts a huge amount of stress on everyone in Fabletown. The tension between the fables at The Farm and those in Fabletown is palpable as well, and of course everyone fantasizes (or schemes) about the possiblity of someday returning home.
As volume one opens, Fabletown’s deputy mayor Snow White is busy managing government for figurehead mayor Old King Cole, and when her sister Rose Red disappears under mysterious circumstances, she puts Bigby Wolf (formerly the Big Bad Wolf, now reformed and on the job as Fabletown sheriff) in charge of the investigation. Through this whodunit we are introduced to all the major fairytale players, and the story begins.
N.b.: Fables is up to #51 in its comic book form, and the single issues have so far been reissued in seven trade paperbacks (issues #1-47). The first issue of Willingham and company’s spin-off series, Jack of the Fables, was just released this July — for that you have to go to the comic book store cos it’s not in graphic novel form yet.
The essential guide to world comics / Tim Pilcher, Brad Brooks.
London : Collins & Brown ; New York : Distributed in the U.S. and Canada by Sterling Pub. Co., 2005.
[MCL call number: 741.509 P637e 2005; eight copies, no holds]
The Essential Guide to World Comics provides a wide view on comics from all over the globe. Comic art from the United States, Great Britain, Japan, France, Argentina, Brazil, Mexico, Cuba, Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Australia, New Zealand, and India is given substantial treatment, with shorter sections devoted to comics from the remaining countries of Europe, to African and Middle Eastern comics, and comics of Southeast Asia and the Pacific Islands. Pilcher and Brooks provide a nice introduction and overview, the book is beautifully illustrated, and reading it provides a good reminder that not everything neato is written in English.
The book’s focus is on mainstream comics produced by larger publishers, though “underground” comics are discussed when they have been widely credited with being particularly influential. An index, a brief bibliography, and a list of comics magazines and websites are at the end of the text.
Whiteout [comic book] / created and written by Greg Rucka ; illustrated and lettered by Steve Lieber ; cover art by Frank Miller ; chapter art by Matt Wagner … [et al.] ; cover logo by Monty Sheldon ; book design by Steven Birch at Servo ; collection edited by Jamie S. Rich ; original series edited by Bob Schreck with Jamie S. Rich.
Portland, OR : Oni Press, c2000.
[MCL call number: GN RUCKA; one copy, no holds]
Carrie Stetko is a United States Marshall in Antarctica, where it’s kind of like you’re nowhere because there aren’t exactly any nations, but then also of course it’s somewhere and there you are. The Antarctica of this comic is a disturbing place — it’s frozen and treeless, and the social order and cultural norms of the place are twisted by the cold and people’s odd and often unhealthy reasons for being there.
As a marshall, Stetko has little authority but is responsible for investigating whatever weirdness comes up (a murder, in this story), and there’s plenty of intrigue to go around. Russians, Brits, scientific researchers, military personnel, and lots and lots and lots of snow and ice and bitter chill wind. Whiteout is something like a police procedural, except there is almost nothing like a procedure available to Stetko. It’s something like a spy novel, except Stetko no more concerned with CIA type stuff than your average cop. Maybe what Whiteout is most like is a classic hard boiled detective novel, with tough dialogue and lots of fighting but still a good amount of clever detective stuff. Whatever category it belongs in, the story is gripping and I highly recommend it.
Whiteout is continued in:
Whiteout : melt / written by Greg Rucka ; illustrated & lettered by Steve Lieber…
Portland, OR : Oni Press, c2000.
[MCL call number: GN RUCKA; six copies, no holds]
Also, you may have noticed that for some reason, the library only has one copy of Whiteout. Does this sadden or inconvenience you? If so, you may suggest that the institution purchase more copies.
Alias [comic book series] / story, Brian Michael Bendis ; art, Michael Gaydos. New York, NY : Marvel Comics, 2002- .
[MCL call number: GN BENDIS; number of copies and holds vary for each volume]
Do you ever wonder what superheroes do after they get tired of the whole thing with the tights and cape? Jessica Jones was once the costumed hero Jewel, in her somewhat naive youth, but now she’s older, wiser, wears regular clothes and works as a solo private investigator. She drinks too much, she has something of a self-confidence problem, she is ridiculously strong, she can fly. She is friends with Daredevil. You’ll love her.
The Alias series was originally issued in 28 comic books, and has been collected in four “trade paperbacks” (this is a comic industry term meaning paperback volumes that are distributed to the book, rather than the comic trade). The Alias series ended with number 28, but the characters and story line have been continued in Bendis’ new series, The Pulse. The first five issues of The Pulse are also collected in a trade paperback (below). The Pulse has much less interesting artwork than Alias — the first series is illustrated in a painterly style that sets the tone of the story almost as much as the writing does.
The pulse. vol. 1. Thin air / writer, Brian Michael Bendis ; penciler, Mark Bagley ; inker, Scott Hanna.
New York, NY : Marvel Comics, c2002.
[MCL call number: GN BENDIS; eight copies, one hold]
The librarian of Basra : a true story from Iraq / written & illustrated by Jeanette Winter.
Orlando, Fla. : Harcourt, Inc., c2005.
[MCL call number: j020.92 B167w 2005; 18 copies, no holds]
The Librarian of Basra is a beautifully illustrated children’s picture book, which tells the story of a very brave librarian. The book explains that although the people of Basra used to come to the library to read and discuss writing, science, the arts, and many other subjects; lately they have begun to talk only of war. Everyone is very worried, and they feel that war is inevitable. Alia Muhammad Baker, the librarian, is worried too; but she is worried about the books in the library. She does not want them to be destroyed in the fighting that everyone thinks will come. Alia takes matters into her own hands when the municipal authorities will not help her, and with the help of her friends and neighbors she saves 30,000 books from being bombed, burned, or looted. A true story.
Another children’s book tells the story of Alia Muhmmad Baker and the Basra library, but with more detail, for slightly older children, and in graphic novel (comics) format:
Alia’s mission : saving the books of Iraq : inspired by a true story [comic book] / Mark Alan Stamaty.
New York : Alfred A. Knopf, distributed by Random House, 2004.
[MCL call number: j020.92 B167s 2004; 20 copies, no holds]
La perdida [comic book series] / by Jessica Abel.
Seattle, WA : Fantagraphics Books, 2001- .
[MCL does not have this series.]
La Perdida is a comic book series about Carla Olivares, a young woman of Mexican heritage who moves to Mexico City, pretty much on a whim, to learn Spanish and immerse herself in the culture she feels she’s missed out on her whole life.
Carla arrives in Mexico City as a guest of an ex-lover who is a trust fund layabout. They don’t get along, she finds his upper class ex-pat friends insufferable, and she greatly overstays her welcome in his apartment. She makes friends of her own, gets a job, moves out, and tries to settle herself into her own social scene. But her new friends may be sketchier than she realized, and a bit of an underworld drama soon begins to unfold.
I’ve only read through issue number four (issue five is due to be released this month, according to the publisher’s website), so I don’t know the end or nuthin, but I can tell you that La Perdida is part woman-finds-herself story, part thriller, and part travelogue. I bought the first four issues all at once and the rest of my life just had to stay on hold while I read them straight through in one sitting.
Another nice thing about La Perdida is that as Carla learns Spanish and begins to speak it as her everyday language, the conversations in the text begin to be primarily in Spanish, usually with English translations at the bottom of each frame (with a lot of humor). This is good for readers who are English speakers learning Spanish.
Abel has a special short piece on her webpage — “Xochimilco” takes place in the middle of page 32 in La Perdida book one, and originally ran in the LA Weekly.
