Comicsgirl

Archive for the ‘reviews’ Category

First, we’re going to watch a video:

Like every other former English major in the world, I love that song. I love The Smiths. I love Morrissey’s solo stuff a little less, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have piles of it.

Unlovable Vol. 2 Buy at Amazon.com

So do you remember how awesome you thought you were when you were 15? How you thought you were doing all of these totally awesome things and you were the coolest person alive? And then, as you grew up and go older, you realized what an idiot you were.

That’s exactly what Esther Pearl Watson’s Unlovable is like (you may remember some of her work from the back page of Bust magazine). Purportedly based on a teenager’s diary that Watson found, it’s funny and it’s painful in that “this is too true and it borders on embarrassing” way. It’s hard to know if you’re laughing with or at the characters here. You’re actually probably doing quite a bit of both.

Named after The Smiths song, Unlovable Vol. 2 (Fantagraphics, 2010) follows the latter half of Tammy Pierce’s sophomore year in the late ’80s. She gets in fights with her brother, hangs out with loser guys and her best friend Kim, who is always looking to borrow a dollar and, later, develops a crush on a senior named Ken, who may idolize Morrissey a little bit too much.

Watson’s art is exaggerated and sometimes borders on the grotesque, but it’s funny and ridiculous. I love the close-ups of the faces of the characters, done in hilarious caricature. There are also plenty of fun non-sequitur pages of ’80s motifs, like Cabbage Patch Kids and Max Headroom. This keeps from feeling too mean.

I have no idea how much Watson embellished the details in the diary she found (nor am I completely sure I buy her story — but I mean that with love. It’s great if it’s true but it’s great if it’s not), but so many things are dead-on here — the mixtape of Smith songs Tammy gets from Ken (and that she transcribes the lyrics incorrectly), how much time she spends trying to impress idiot 15-year-old boys through make-up and outfits and the digestion of cliques (including The Smokers, The Rappers, The Thespian New Wave and The Invisibles). Even if this wasn’t specifically Tammy Pierce’s high school experience, I think that doesn’t matter — it’s actually all of ours.

It’s a chunky book with glitter on the cover and inside pages done in black, white and green. The drawing spill off the page. The design of this book is delightful and does feel like something a teenage girl in the late ’80s would love.

If you want to relive part of your teenage years without much sentimentalism, Unlovable Vol. 2 is the way to go.

Now we’re going to watch another video:

Yes, that’s Neil Finn covering “There is a Light That Never Goes Out.” And yes, I’m including it just because I can.

Review copy provided by publisher.

—

I reviewed Hope Larson’s Mercury over at Geek Girl on the Street. I did link to it on Twitter, but since I won’t be reviewing it here, I just wanted to make sure I pointed to it in a more permanent manner. (Here’s the short version: It’s awesome and you need to buy it when it’s out.)

If you’ve read my blog or, you know, looked at the title of it, you’ve probably pretty much figured out that a) I’m a girl b) I like comics and c) I like women making comics.

Given all of the above, do I really need to tell you I love this? I swear, it’s like someone went into my brain made a comic just for me.

But let’s get past all the initial giddiness and just get to how awesomely good all of this is.

First of all: Marvel, please please please make a poster of Colleen Coover’s intro piece. It deserves to be hanging in every girl’s bedroom. I will buy five of them if you make it into a poster. And it’s not just me — I have friends who also want it as a poster. I love it.

Starting with a lyrical, nearly wordless tale written by G. Willow Wilson with art by Ming Doyle, Girl Comics #1 definitely starts off right — it’s feminine and mysterious but not stereotypically “girly” at the same time.

The next story by Trina Robbins and Stephanie Buscema is, however, but playfully so. Robbins tells the story of Venus trying to return to her job on earth as a fashion magazine editor, only to find things have changed, and not for the better. Buscema’s retro-inspired art is a delight and all of this is cute and romantic and way too much fun.

Valerie D’Orazio’s Punisher story, with art by Nikki Cook is probably the most straightforward and traditional of all of the stories here, but these four pages do a lot with a little — an entire backstory is told through several, simple images — and the effect is very powerful.

Lucy Kinsley’s Doctor Octopus story is hilarious and adorable, and Robin Furth’s and Agnes Garbowska’s steampunkish retelling of Hansel & Gretel, featuring the Richards kids is inspired and different.

Concluding the issue is a dreamlike take on the Jean Grey/Cyclops/Wolverine love triangle by Devin Grayson and Emma Rios.

I absolutely adored the profiles on Flo Steinberg and Marie Severin (also, Marvel, when you’re making a poster of Colleen Coover’s intro image, will you also manage to collect some of Marie Severin’s work into a book? Please?). These were unexpected and fun bonuses.

This is an awesome showcase of the diverse talent of female creators — and just comic creators, period. I can’t wait for the next one.

It’s a wonderful little anthology, but it’s more than that.

I started Comicsgirl way back when as a teenager because I knew there was more to comics than what most people saw. I knew that comics had some great things to offer women. But even now, especially in mainstream comics, I often don’t feel like I’m recognized. Sometimes, I have to struggle to see myself in the comics I read. But Girl Comics makes me feel like I’m being acknowledged. No, maybe it’s not going to be everyone’s thing, but I wish I could go back in time and give this to my 17-year-old self. I wish I knew a bunch of 15-year-old girls I could buy copies of this for. And for me, that makes this is a beautiful thing.

Smile Buy at Amazon.com

I hated every minute of having braces.

Yes, that’s a dramatic statement since I’m sure there were times I didn’t think about my braces too much (plus I did also sleep, so I doubt I was doing too much hating in my sleep). But ultimately, I remember nearly two years of aching teeth and discomfort.

I don’t regret having braces but I adored the day I got them removed. Of course, then there was the retainer.

In the autobiographical Smile (Scholastic, 2010), sixth-grader Raina Telgemeier trips and knocks out one of her front teeth (and pushed the other up inside her gums — cue the cringing now). This began four long years of trips to the dentist and orthodontist and other -ists as they try to repair her mouth.

Along the way, she grow into herself. She deals with leaving her childhood behind as she experiences first crushes and fights with friends. There’s even an earthquake. Telgemeier’s art is animated and cute. It’s curvy and dynamic and filled with exaggerated facial expressions. It moves the story along and I love the subtle changes Raina goes through as she moves from girl to young teenager.

Telgemeier is only a few years older than I am so I could relate to the time period in which she came of age. I was delighted at how she wasn’t in a particular rush to grow up (she was a girl who loved video games and The Little Mermaid) and her family is loving and supportive. This was a refreshing portrayal of being a young teenager to me, and very easy to relate to.

(The scene where Sammy gives Raina a Valentine’s Day present and it’s painful and awkward for both of them? Yes, that happened to me, too.)

The dental aspect is handled in a playful way. Something that should be horrifying is rendered as fun. Onomatopoetic words such as “snap” “poke” and “twist” accompany scenes of the tightening of braces and Telgemeier’s art is always so lovely that nothing is ever too gross. The only scene that made me squirm was when Raina had her gums cleaned. Still, I did have my teeth ache in sympathy throughout the book.

While I didn’t (thankfully!) experience the kind of dental trauma that Telgemeier did, I still saw a lot of myself in her story. Smile is a quick and fun read. It’s a lovely book for any older child worried about middle school (or braces!) and for those of us who have been there. And that just about covers everyone.

Supergirl: Cosmic Adventures in the 8th Grade Buy at Amazon.com

I first wrote about Supergirl: Cosmic Adventures in the 8th Grade all the way back here, but I never picked it up for whatever reason.

But after a little stuffed bull said it was the most fun comic of 2009, I decided I needed to get it. Luckily, I have a very loving boyfriend who bought it for me for Valentine’s Day.

This is absolutely wonderful. I don’t know if I’d call it perfect … but I kind of want to call it perfect.

Eric Jones’ character design is beautiful — original and playful, cartoony and animated while still looking like a comic book (I love the appropriately strong, square jaw on Superman). The colors are bright and solid. I think we need more comics that look this delightful and fun.

Landry Q. Walker’s writing is surprisingly witty for an all-ages title. Sure, I read a bunch of kids’ comics and I like them, but I never once felt this was too young for me. The humor is dead-on — slapsticky in places, but also full of funny lines and silly plot twists.

I like how our Supergirl Linda Lee is awkward when she’s not trying to save the world (and sure, awkward when she is) but she’s always upbeat and willing to laugh at herself. Her “evil” clone Belinda Zee is everything she’s not — outgoing, popular, petty. I think that’s a nice touch, showing that usually our “enemies” are just like us. Linda’s nerdy best friend, Lena, has her own secret, but I like how that gets resolved too.

Bully mentioned how much he loved how Linda grew up throughout these issues and I think that’s the coolest thing about this comic, and very unexpected. I think the creators could’ve just gotten away with having this be a fun little comic, but they did something deeper. Sure, maybe the metaphor of “growing into superpowers” for adolescents is an obvious one, but here, it works. Linda finds out who she is and what she’s capable of, all in about 140 pages. And the message never bogs it down — it’s subtle and affecting. And still, always, fun.

I really want Cosmic Adventures in the 9th Grade now, but I absolutely adore this and I’m happy to have it. Why don’t you have it yet?

Newave!: The Underground Mini Comix of the 1980s Buy at Amazon.com

I wanted to like Newave!: The Underground Mini Comix of the 1980s (Fantagraphics, 2010). Part of me actually wanted to love it. Taken as a book that records a history, it’s pretty awesome. But as a book that’s supposed to entertain or inspire, it missed its mark for me.

Collecting mini comics from the 1970s to the early 1990s (despite what the subtitle says), editor Michael Dowers certainly had an aesthetic in mind. So mostly, this book is full of post-Robert Crumb-inspired art by adolescent males (even if it’s they’re just “adolescent” in terms of mindset and not actually age). There’s plenty of graphic sex and graphic violence, mostly done in a tittering kind of “ha ha, look at how shocking we are!!” kind of way.

I completely understand that most of this book just doesn’t appeal to me. I didn’t feel particularly offended by any of it (although there are some disturbing things) but just bored. There are only so many drawings of women with grotesquely large breasts I can look at before I lose interest. You, of course, may be different.

There were some really lovely things I did like, though, such as William Clark and Mary Fleener’s “Dead Girl” with its high-contrast, stylized art, Tom Christopher’s pop-art inspired “Vivian” and Molly Kiely’s dreamy “Lulu.”

It’s only coincidence that two of pieces that stuck out for me were by/co-created by women. But it is worth noting that these seem to be the only two female creators featured in this book. I understand that comics — even underground ones — have always been male-dominated, but I’m also pretty sure that women were making minicomics in the ’80s.

But I think that may go back to the issue of the aesthetic choices of this book — Dowers was including the comics he was interested in and liked, and those aren’t necessarily the ones I am interested in or like.

Still, I think that does make Newave! feel less like an overview of minicomics and more like selections from one guy’s collection.

Newave! does include essays about minicomics and interviews with some of the creators. These are fun and provide a great look at how all of this came about. The chunky shape and size of the book is also fun (it’s only slightly larger than a sheet of 8 1/2 by 11 paper folded in quarters, evoking the size these comics originally appeared in).

I’m disappointed this book didn’t excite me more — I love minicomics and I enjoyed learning a little bit of the history of them (at least, a certain type of them). But ultimately, this book isn’t really for me and it’s not something I’m going to revisit.

A review copy of this book was provided by the publisher.

Magic Trixie #1 Buy at Amazon.com

Jill Thompson can do no wrong.

I mean, really, are you going to argue with that statement? To me, anyone who has a bad word to say about Thompson isn’t someone I want to associate with.

Which is to say Magic Trixie #1 (Harper Collins, 2008) is absolutely delightful.

As a sort of Scary Godmother Jr., Trixie is an adorable pink-haired moppet, a kindergarten-aged witch in training, dealing with her family’s tendency to pay more more to her baby sister than her. Her classmates and friends are vampires and zombies and a stuck-up werewolf serves as her rival. Her teacher is a ghost. Thompson’s ability to make all of this innocent and delightful is to her credit — there is absolutely nothing menacing about any of these characters.

Trixie’s a bit of a brat as she tries to get attention, but she’s easy to relate to, even for me (which may say more about my ability to empathize with 6-year-olds than anything else, of course). I love her attempts to try to outdo her baby sister and prove what a big girl she is. While her eventual understanding (and love) when it comes to her sister is obvious, it’s still a worthy and lovely lesson.

Thompson’s watercolors are bright and fluid. She has an eye that’s all her own — it’s animated and dynamic and always fun to follow. It’s cute and cartoony, sure, but it is always gorgeously rendered and I love studying the details.

I love Thompson’s unique touches — Trixie’s grandmother, who insists on being called Mimi (it’s explained a “Mimi” is “a Gramma that thinks if she’s never called the G-word, no one will know she’s a Gramma.”) and Trixie’s harried but loving family, which includes a purple-haired big sister and sweetly hip parents. Underneath the supernatural trappings, Trixie’s family is wonderfully recognizable.

(The back of the book says this is for ages 8-11, but that seems a little old to me. I’d gladly give this to my boyfriend’s 6-year-old niece.)

So yes, I love this, but that was basically a given. I’m happy we have Jill Thompson, no matter what she’s doing.

Woman King (Self-publishesd, 2009) – Colleen Frakes

I intended to buy this at MoCCA, but didn’t. As we ran around handing out the Ignatz nominee badges at Small Press Expo, I decided that was as good of a time as any to buy it.

A bear decides to lead an uprising against humans and adopts a little girl to help lead the fight as the “king” of the bears. As she grows up, the bears get no closer to winning their battle with the humans.

As our heroine progresses from girl to woman, she looses her innocence little by little — her bear family eats sheep she’s befriended, the young man she falls in love with is a hunter with the head of a deer on his wall — until she decides she doesn’t want to be controlled anymore.

Frakes’ adorable drawings make this look like a “cute animal” tale for the most part, which makes the scenes of violence, while not overly graphic, all the more shocking. It becomes a powerful reflection on being blinded by conflict and the thoughtless cruelty we often perpetuate. This is a book I am proud to own.

Salamander Dream (AdHouse Books, 2005) – Hope Larson

Dreamlike in tone, Larson follows a girl named Hailey and her friendship with Salamander, a lithe, masked human figure in all black. Hailey and Salamander play in the wilderness near Hailey’s house, but as Hailey gets older, she has less and less time for Salamander.

Presented in black, white and vibrant green, extended, wordless sequences show Hailey and Salamander floating through water, the sky and even shrinking to travel through Hailey’s bloodstream. Larson varies her page layouts — sometimes they are well-defined and rigid, other times they are loose and and malleable. Her art has a clarity that is lovely — the curves of her lines give her drawings movement and immediacy.

It’s left up to the reader to decide if Salamander is a real, magical creature or just an imaginary friend of Hailey’s (in fact, Larson seems to say there’s not much difference between the two).

This is a beautiful little book and I’ve enjoyed revisiting it since I bought it.

Sleeper Car (Secret Acres, 2009) – Theo Ellsworth

Ellsworth fills his pages with robots and space explorers and weirdness just for the sake of weirdness. He’s playful — look for all the little animals in the background of “Norman Eight’s Left Arm” — and his love of the surreal never descends into creepiness. Technically, it’s brilliant and lush — his art is impossibly complicated and full of lines and textures in the background — but it also feels much like a product of someone who’s just goofying around and doodling (oh, if we could all doodle like this).

There is something very childlike about his work. It’s like one part Moebius, one part Where The Wild Things Are. Yes, “How to Build a: Pajama Tent” is adorable and something we all can remember doing, but other pages, like “Political Statement” that shows an image of “The 220th President of the United States” feel like something he probably just drew for fun and captioned later.

Ellsworth has a fascinating style. His comics can be dense but they’re almost always fun.

Cross Country (Fort Hamilton Press, 2009) – MK Reed

Spooner is on a road trip as the assistant to Greg, the asshole heir to a Wal-Mart-like company, as they travel around the country to decide which stores to close. Spooner hates Greg, but the money is too good to pass up. Along the way, he visits his ex-girlfriend, Julia, as he decides what he wants from life.

Reed presents this story in a pretty matter-of-fact way — it feels a lot like a cute, low-budget indie movie. Reed’s art has a softness to it — she draws her characters with loose curves and simple features. I wouldn’t call it abstract, but there is a certain economy to her lines. She adds just enough to make her scenes clear.

I think we all have someone in our lives that we just can’t let go of. Maybe this person isn’t so much “the one that got away” but we still have some lingering thought about what could have been if things have gone differently. I liked that Reed never presented Julia as a villain and it didn’t work out with Spooner just because it didn’t work out. I also liked how Spooner came to — maybe not so much an understanding with Greg, but something close to recognition.

This is a quiet little book but very affecting and satisfying.

(Hope Larson will be appearing at the University of Richmond for Graphic Details: Discussing Contemporary Comics at 7 p.m. Sunday, along with Gabrielle Bell, Kim Deitch and Anders Nilsen. The panel will be moderated by AdHouse Books founder Chris Pitzer.)

Lucky Buy at Amazon.com

I have often complained about indie comics all being about struggling artists writing about their own lives and loves while living in New York City. The amount of navel-gazing quickly gets tiresome.

Gabrielle Bell is different.

Yes, her comics are, for the most part, about her life as a struggling artist in New York City, but there’s a smartness and perspective to them that’s refreshing. Bell has a sense of humor about her life and isn’t afraid to make herself look bad.

Lucky (Drawn & Quarterly, 2006) is the first collection of her comic dairies. She tells entertaining stories about her boyfriend searching for an apartment (he tries out several), her series of odd jobs, and just the general ups and downs of everyday life. Her voice here is playful but honest and I felt I really got to know her.

Bell’s art gets more refined at Lucky continues. It starts out a little loose and sketchy and word heavy in the initial stories but then becomes much more defined and cleaner as she becomes more accustomed to telling her stories visually. She fills her scenes with a lot of people, and her skill at simple expressions at body language makes me feel like I was witnessing all of this first-hand.

Cecil and Jordan in New York Buy at Amazon.com

Cecil and Jordan in New York (Drawn & Quarterly, 2009) is less biographical and a little more ambitious. Collecting her stories from various anthologies, this collection shows Bell’s range. Yes, there are some stories about twentysomethings in the city, she does a good job at using her life as a jumping-off point to tell other stories. “Felix” obviously draws on her experiences teaching art to kids, but becomes a poignant tale of growing up and trying to make connections. “My Affliction” is a dreamlike tale that keeps shifting as it goes along.

While a few of the pieces here are basic, black and white line drawings, she utilizes color and duotone in others, and these give each of the stories here a unique feel. “Helpless,” in black, white and lilac, shows the meandering tale of the afternoon of two teenage girls, and the color palette lets it change from day to night subtly and beautifully.

I’m impressed with Bell’s range, both as a storyteller and artist in both these books. She has a thoughtful but powerful voice and I look forward to what’s coming next from her.

(Gabrielle Bell will be appearing at the University of Richmond for Graphic Details: Discussing Contemporary Comics at 7 p.m. Sunday, along with Kim Deitch, Hope Larson and Anders Nilsen. The panel will be moderated by AdHouse Books founder Chris Pitzer. Unless something very strange happens, I will be there.)

Path Buy at Amazon.com

Doppler the rabbit is having a bad day. Constantly on the run from creatures like crocidogs who want to eat him, he is cornered when an elephant named Dodge falls from the sky.

That’s how Gregory S. Baldwin’s Path (Com.x, 2009) begins, immediately setting the scene for the action to follow at these two unlikely friends try to travel to Dodge’s ultimate destination. It reminded me of Looney Tunes, if Looney Tunes had featured post-apocalyptic mutants (and a robot). It’s also a ton of fun and surprisingly touching.

Baldwin, who is a video game character designer, brings a loose, animated quality to this book. It jumps excitedly from panel to panel, page to page, and creates an engrossing world. Owing to the cartoon nature of this book, I never really questioned why Dodge can stand on his hind legs and has human-like hands. Doppler is all big eyes and floppy limbs, as a great cartoon rabbit should be. The sepia-toned pages evoke the rocky, unforgiving environment these two find themselves trying to navigate.

The majority of the comic is one big chase scene — along the way, many creatures with all kinds of combinations of teeth, tentacles and scales that, of course, mean our heroes great harm. The wise-cracking Doppler and the stoic Dodge are perfect foils for each other as they quickly become partners. Baldwin’s pacing is perfect, as the action moves from one problem to the next. While it is a fairly short book, there’s never any time to be bored. It’s always fun to see what crazy situation or creature Baldwin will throw out next.

The quiet ending feels a little abrupt after all of the action, but it’s also a beautiful and thoughtful conclusion to this story. I realized how much I’d grown to care about these two by the end. Ultimately, we all will find our path, but we should never forget that it’s our friends who helped us get there.

(A review copy of this book was provided by the publisher.)

I actually didn’t buy too many mini-comics this year due to being on a limited budget. Still, I was surprised when I was pulling them out of my bag at how many I still bought.

As always, in no particular order.

American, Eh? Parts 1-3 — Heather Bryant
American, Eh? tells Bryant’s story of moving to the U.S. to be with her boyfriend. She deals with crappy apartments, the ups and downs of employment and her relationship. It’s a quiet story, and Bryant presents it in an unadorned way. She does a lot with a little — her strong lines capture body language and facial expressions beautifully. I was surprised at how much this affected me.

The Baby is Disappointing — Idiots’ Books
Written by Matthew Swanson and illustrated by Robbi Behr, this is less comic and more illustrated mini-book. I picked it up because I loved the presentation — it’s 4 1/2 inches by 5 inches and spiral-bound. One page will state things like “The baby is not agile. It cannot leap or jog or lick a stamp” which is accompanied by an illustration of a photo of an antique baby doll in various situations with objects drawn around it. The joke — babies are trouble — is maybe a little obvious, as is the conclusion — but they’re worth it! — but it works anyway. I adore that this couple is out there making books like this.

Neon Girl #0-1 — Dennis Pacheco
A fun, irreverent take on the superhero genre, Neon Girl is a sort of everywoman superheroine — capable and confident, but still someone who has to deal with the ins and outs of everyday life. Neon Girl #1 is more of an extended battle between Neon Girl and Atom Girl over the superhero Red Eye, but it’s done with humor. Pacheco is playing with genre motifs here, riffing on typical “fan service” moments. His women are attractive but realistically drawn and the action is first-rate. But even though I liked it, I think these two are enough for me.

Oh No, A Meteor — Anthony Clark
This is just silly. That’s a good thing. This is about a chicken (or some other generic bird — I believe it’s a chicken) and a cross between a bear and a potato named, surprisingly enough, Beartato, trying to find away to stop a meteor from destroying the earth. Clark’s art is crude and cartoony, and I loved the goofy, almost innocent nature of his writing — he’s not trying too hard. He’s genuinely weird and funny. Looking at his site makes me almost certain I’ve seen his work before. I’m very happy I bought this.

My Boyfriend is a Space Robot! — Abby Denson
I love Abby Denson, so let’s just get it out of the way that I like this. I love the limited color palette she used here — all pinks and blues and purples — and her art has this loose, rock ‘n’ roll quality to it (which is appropriate, because she also makes music. Now is the best time to link to the “Teen Boat” video. You will have that song stuck in your head for days, but that’s a good thing). I like how matter-of-fact she is about the heroine of this comic having muscular dystrophy and being in a wheelchair. There’s no heavy-handed message. This is possibly my favorite mini-comic I picked up at SPX. But then, that’s not really a surprise.

Bad Grammar –Marie Condenzio
Maybe this gets better as the story goes along? Michio has moved from Japan, where he meets two strange classmates during his first day at his new high school. There’s something about some odd cross-shaped symbols and a haunted house. Condenzio’s art is a little rough and unpolished — purposefully so, but just not really my thing. I’m kind of intrigued, but probably not enough to seek this out again.

Nine Gallons — Susie Cagle
Nine Gallons follows Cagle’s experiences working with Food Not Bombs. While she’s obviously a believe in the group’s mission, she doesn’t present it as being some idyllic, joyful experience either. Her art feels influenced by cartoonists like Daniel Clowes — it’s exaggerated and just one step away from caricature. It suits her story since nothing here is meant to be pretty. I love how she subtly presents her loss of idealism. I really should’ve picked up Cagle’s other comics when I had the chance.