Astronaut Academy:
Zero Gravity
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“Cute” and “quirky” all too often come off as dismissive when describing things. Dave Roman‘s Astronaut Academy: Zero Gravity (First Second Books, 2011) will make you think twice, though, when it comes to those words. If everyone did “cute” and “quirky” as well as Roman, these words would only be compliments.

A redone and expanded version of Roman’s mini-comic series Astronaut Elementary, Astronaut Academy follows students of the titular school, where classes include Wearing Cute Hats or Fire Throwing and teachers are Mrs. Bunn (a bunny, of course) and Senor Panda (a panda, as the name would suggest). The principal carries a very large sword (think Final Fantasy). All of this is covered in the first few pages. It’s the perfect introduction to the wacky, anything-goes world Roman has created here.

The main plot follows Hakata Soy, a transfer student with a mysterious past. A cyborg named Cybert also arrives with the mission to eliminate Hakata Soy. All of this, though, is really just a frame for things like dinosaur driving lessons, incomprehensible games of Fireball, student crushes on the elfin teacher Mr. Namagucci and diversions with Doug Hiro, who never takes off his space suit.

Roman’s multi-ethnic (and multi-species, I guess it must be said) cast is refreshingly diverse. It’s evenly split between girls and boys and there’s a personality for everyone to relate to, from the bratty Maribelle Mellonbelly, to the sweet overachiever Miyumi San to the sporty Tak Offsky among many others. You knew these kids. Possibly, you were (or are) one of these kids.

Roman’s art is full of joy. While he obviously draws inspiration from manga, especially in his facial expressions, his definitive lines and cartoony style has a giddy, childlike quality. Panels and pages emphasize movement and motion. I don’t remember when still images seemed so animated.

While it’s perfectly suitable for children — the humor is always innocent without being insulting (Roman was editor of Nickelodeon magazine, so he understands kids and doesn’t talk down to them) — I also get the feeling Roman didn’t necessarily set out to make a comic exclusively for kids. He was just making the comic he enjoyed creating — one that’s playful and sweet, and yes, cute and quirky. His fun tends to rub off on the reader.

I know I’m already waiting for the promised sequel.

Advance reader copy provided by publisher.

Zita the Spacegirl
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Ben Hatke is not shy about his influences in Zita the Spacegirl (First Second, 2011). He calls up Star Wars, Marvel Comics’ MODOK, Terry Gilliam (and I’d also say Terry Pratchett while we’re at it) and — I’m not throwing this out lightly — Jim Henson and his Muppets (maybe more specifically, Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal, but the overall attitude, too) as well as many more. But that’s not to say this book ever becomes a game of “spot the reference.” Hatke has enough skill to make this book fun in its own right.

Our heroine is the titular Zita — a girl of about 11 who follows her friend/rival Joseph through a portal that sends them both to a planet that’s facing destruction. Zita’s brave and savvy enough to just go with the scenario that’s presented to her. Yes, there are problems — weird creatures and dangers lurking at every turn — but Zita’s also having fun. While I wouldn’t call all of Hatke’s creatures “cuddly,” there is a softness to his art which makes much of the book pretty playful. There are scares, sure, but Zita’s always presented as someone who can rise to them.

The roguish Piper, who is not quite trustworthy since he has his own agenda and a goatee, makes a worthy foil for the practical Zita as well as a unthreatening crush object (if we’re going with the general Labyrinth vibe here, David Bowie was much weirder on that account). He’s also a good entry point for adults and older readers. As much as I adore Zita, I do want to know Piper’s story too (and since this book ends with a promise of more, maybe I’ll get to).

Hatke goes far to evoke a world full of robots and aliens and castles. It’s such an overused word for books like these, but yes, his art has an animated quality to it. Zita seems to be moving as she runs away from robot spiders, or as HAMBO attacks their enemies. Hatke’s storytelling is amazing, but it is his expressive, delightful art that drives this book.

I am probably at least 20 years too old to be in the target audience for this book, but at the same time, I absolutely am. Hatke has created a title that can connect with all ages — children who like adventures, their nerdy parents (or people who could be nerdy parents), and those of us who used to be 10-year-old girls (or boys!) and still appreciate stories about them.

Ultimately, I don’t know who wouldn’t love Zita the Spacegirl. I think it’s for all of us.

Lewis & Clark
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It’s called Lewis & Clark (First Second, 2011), but Nick Bertozzi‘s historic graphic novel is about Meriwether Lewis.

That’s not a complaint. The journey of Meriwether Lewis and William Clark covers more than two years and nearly 8,000 miles. It’s a big story. But by reducing it down to a story that is, at its core, about just one man, Bertozzi is able to make an epic adventure extremely intimate.

Lewis isn’t always the most likeable of heroes — while he’s without a doubt charming, he’s also too often grumpy and impatient. Even when the more reasonable and sensible Clark tries to keep him in check, it’s Lewis’ passionate pursuit of adventure that drives the story

Bertozzi’s art skirts between playful and realistic. Since at its core, this tale is about the people involved, communicates his character’s emotions through strong, simple lines, showing joy and anger wordlessly. He’s equally skilled at portraying the sweeping landscapes that our adventurers encounter throughout the Louisiana Purchase.

I think page layout and the way panels interact with each other is something that’s often overlooked when it comes to comics (even though it’s essential), but in this regard, Lewis & Clark is incredible. Bertozzi’s pages are beautiful to look at as whole — sometimes they are full of tiny boxes, sometimes they sweep across two pages. Other times, he dispenses with formal borders and just utilizes white space to separate scenes. Depending on the page, the story moves from action to contemplative rapidly and that keeps things unexpected and exciting.

Overall, it is a fast-paced story, though — almost too much so. Bertozzi does pack in quite a bit in a relatively short book. While he was clear that his intention was not for this to be a definitive history, there is a sense that Lewis & Clark could’ve been twice as long and still not included everything.

It’s not giving too much away to discuss the end since this is history, but I loved how Bertozzi handles Lewis’ letdown after his adventure. Real life ceases to be as exciting and he remains haunted by his experiences. Still, even when it ended in tragedy, Lewis gave us all a great gift — he gave us knowledge of what was to become the rest of the United States.

Despite being (more or less) a Virginian (we love our history here, to a fault), I wasn’t actually too familiar with Lewis & Clark’s story (the Lewis & Clark scholar in the family is my mother, who I will be passing this book to shortly) and as much as I loved it, Nick Bertozzi’s Lewis & Clark ultimately made me want to know more. I don’t think there’s any better recommendation for it than that.

Koko Be Good
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Koko is a flighty, semi-homeless, semi-unemployed young woman. Jon is a recent college graduate trying to wrap up loose ends before he leaves for Peru, where his girlfriend is going to be teaching. When the two meet, they begin to question their individual outlooks on life.

While a straight-laced young man meeting a free-spirited young woman is pretty well-tread territory, Jen Wang‘s Koko Be Good (First Second, 2010) is surprisingly sensitive and nuanced. It’s less about two characters meeting cute and changing the other’s life for the better and more of a meditation on growing up and making decisions about the future.

Wang’s art shifts from cartoony slapstick to sweetly sincere. Koko is a big-eyed loudmouth and Wang presents her outlandish ways with oversized features and movements. The introspective Jon is much more slight and Wang presents him nearly overwhelmed by the world around him. Also, her San Francisco is instantly recognizable as a place that people actually live and work and made me realize how I really need to go there for another visit. The subtle, sepia-toned color palette (with a few splashes of green and blue) is lovely and highlights the introspective nature of the story.

The story is in the details — I adore Jon’s visit with one of his old bandmates and they remark on an old photo of the days when they’d all grown their first beards. Later, the aimless Koko feels out of place during a get-together after a beach cleanup. Word bubbles with “community;” “internship;” and “graduation” float around her as she clearly realizes she’s not a part of that world. It’s in moments like this where the book really shines — we’ve all had moments like these where we have to reflect on our pasts our futures and decide where we’re going next.

By contrast with the fumbling Koko and the lost Jon, Emily is nothing less than a grownup — someone who knows what she wants and what it’s going to require for her to do that. I’m glad that Wang included her as a grounding point and a glimpse of what these character’s futures could be.

I am pretty well beyond having to deal with these sorts of issues, but this still resonated with me. After all, are any of us really sure of what we want to be doing with our lives? Do we ever wonder how we could make the world a better place? Koko Be Good isn’t going to give you any answers. It will, however, tell you these are things we all need to figure out for ourselves.

Cat Burglar Black
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K was raised in orphanage where she was trained as a pickpocket and thief. Now she’s the most recent student at an exclusive all-girls school, Bellsong Academy. The school is so exclusive, in fact, there’s only three other students.

As it turns out, K’s been recruited by the stern Mrs. Turtledove for her special skills. What follows in Richard Sala‘s Cat Burglar Black (First Second, 2009) is a tale of secrets and late-night heists as K tries to outsmart the creepy Obtainers.

It’s a lot of fun, in a slightly cruel way, evoking the aesthetics of Edward Gorey and Charles Addams. Sala crafts a world that’s a little creepy but also playful with his exaggerated, loose lines and mood-setting colors. He also leaves the more frightening elements of the story off the page, suggesting the ultimate fates of characters rather than showing them outright, keeping the book light despite the subject matter.

K is a great heroine — she’s intelligent and resourceful. From her bright white hair to her mysterious past, she’s intriguing from the beginning and fabulous to follow as she dodges booby traps and scales fences. I love that we come in the middle of her story — Cat Burglar Black seems just like one small part of her life. While I don’t know if Sala will continue her adventures, I’d love to see more of her time in the orphanage and I’m curious about what kind of adult she’ll turn into.

But if we get no more stories about K, this one will be plenty. And I at least know I have more works by Richard Sala to explore.

Foiled

Teenage Aliera can take on any of her fencing opponents without fear, but when it comes to life, she has a little bit more trouble. After her mom buys her a practice foil with a strange gem glued to it and she catches the eye of the cute new boy, Avery, her world gets much more interesting.

Written by the legendary Jane Yolen with art by Mike Cavallaro and published by First Second — would you really expect Foiled to be anything other than amazing? I am very biased toward girls-with-swords stories, but I haven’t loved a graphic novel this much in a long time.

Aliera is likable and very real. Her narration has a quiet strength, even through her self-doubt and confusion. Yolen’s subtle details — Aliera listens to Ani DiFranco and Loreena McKennitt and plays role-playing games with her cousin — presents a portrait of a smart girl who is just on the cusp of coming into herself. Her interactions with Avery have the right balance of awkwardness on both sides. She’s a smart girl who is maybe a little too self-aware for her own good. Aliera is one of those rare teenage girl characters that is incredibly genuine and is like someone we all knew (or possibly were).

Cavallaro’s art gives these characters strong personalities. Emotions are conveyed through simple lines and wide, open eyes reveal the characters’ wonder. His teenagers look like teenagers with small bodies and soft faces (I also like how pretty girl Sally is only a little prettier than Aliera herself, but it’s all a manner of degrees when you’re a teenager, and Aliera can’t see herself as others do). He shows the action of the fencing scenes with animated, sweeping movements. I can’t imagine this story being drawn by anyone else — he’s such a perfect complement to Yolen that I think it wouldn’t have been as good in someone else’s hands.

And because this is Yolen, elements of fantasy do come into it, perhaps unexpectedly for some, but both creators handle it delightfully. Most of the book is colored with washes of gray until Aliera’s fencing mask reveals another reality to her (in Grand Central Station, no less) where bright primary colors begin to fill the pages. Even when you know it’s coming (as I did), it’s still a powerful, transformative moment. It’s a good example of the awesome things comics can do.

I know that there’s going to be another (eventually) but for now, I’m just going to be content to read this repeatedly.

Still, no one seemed particularly excited about it this year. I was, more or less, but it wasn’t the all-consuming “I can’t wait!” excitement I’ve had in the two previous years. Basically, MoCCA (when I finally got it into my head what days it actually was) became a good excuse to get out of town for a couple of days.

I remember spending brunch last year on the Saturday of the show studying a print out of the long list of debuts that Robot6 had posted. That blog had three posts this year, as far as I can tell, on MoCCA, and none of them were that extensive. The Beat had a little bit more, but still, it didn’t seem like there was really that much new stuff. (A lot of the coverage of MoCCA seemed to be more about events surrounding it — pre-parties and signings and after-parties and such — than the show itself.)

And my experience with the show kind of made that clear. I mean, certainly, when you go to a bunch of these things that are all centered along the Mid-Atlantic, you’re going to see the same creators again and again, quite often with the same comics. But I saw very few mini-comics that I hadn’t seen before. When I compare it to last year, where I felt like everything I saw was new and exciting, this just felt like more of the same.

The bigger publishers — First Second, Fantagraphics, Drawn & Quarterly, etc. — were doing good business and my web searches seem to indicate that’s why a lot of people were there. Don’t get me wrong — I was delighted to have Mike Cavallaro sign my copy of Foiled!, but I’m not someone who really cares about getting books signed all that much. If I want books from these publishers, well, that’s kind of what Amazon is for. (I know that sounds terrible, and I’m only partially serious, but you get my point.) The bigger-name guests like Frank Miller also kind of seemed out of character for the show.

So what do I think happened this year?

I think the change to April — even though people knew it since last year — threw some people off. Comics take time and when you’re used to knowing you need to have something done by June, you may be hard-pressed to get it done by April instead, even if you have a good amount of warning.

I also know exhibitors weren’t too happy about various issues last year — floor layout, the heat, and even the building itself. I don’t know their reasons, but there are a handful of people that I’ve seen in the previous two years that weren’t there this year. (A friend overheard on the train home that exhibitor space didn’t sell out — which would explain the random round tables occupying some of the space in the back.)

MoCCA this year faced some competition — both from Boston Comic Con and Stumptown Comics Fest in two weeks. The economy being what it is, I think some West Coast creators that may have done MoCCA otherwise had to pick between the two and stuck with the one that was closer to home. (That happened to me — last year, I had every intention on making it to Stumptown this year.)

And about that: I’m not necessarily blaming this all on the economy, but I have noticed that so far this year, some other events have seemed a little scaled-back. I think last year, we were all hurting but we had plans in place and were able to go through with them. This year, we’re still hurting which meant we had to make some choices. Maybe solo creators couldn’t afford the table fees; maybe they didn’t have the funds to get their comics printed. And so that left the “bigger” indie publishers — who are in the one part of the publishing industry that’s not entirely sucking — to pick up the slack.

I don’t really know, though. I think MoCCA’s in transition and I think that’s OK. It’s still a good show and I think it will continue to be a good show, even if it changes into something else (on Geek Girl on the Street, I mentioned I think there’s absolutely room for a “literary” comic con, and if that’s the direction MoCCA moves in, that’s cool).

Still, I think for me, if next year is a choice between going to Stumptown and going to MoCCA, I’m going to Stumptown (mostly because I’ve never been).

But Drink & Draw Like a Lady was blast and I’m glad I came here just for that.