YEAH!
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Everything about YEAH! (2011, Fantagraphics) is pretty ridiculous.

For most people, Peter Bagge and Gilbert Hernandez aren’t the first two creators that come to mind when considering who’d make great comics for preteen/young teen girls. But this actually happened. And from a mainstream publisher (DC Comics/Vertigo) no less. Then it disappeared into history until it was republished earlier this year.

And you should be glad it was. Like I said, it is ridiculous — for its mere existence — and for the story.

YEAH! is a rock band composed of three young women — spacey guitarist Krazy, sweet hippie drummer Honey and the tough and glamorous Woo-Woo. You want to read this already, I’m sure. But wait — YEAH!, despite being from New Jersey is the biggest band in outer space (it’s just too bad no one on earth has ever heard of them). The women’s ineptly manipulative manager Crusty often gets them into trouble by not revealing the whole truth and they face musical rivals (The Snobs, Miss Hellraiser) and slimy record executives.

This is a delightful amount of fun. Bagge’s writing has the right mix of breathlessness and sarcasm and the silliness he tosses out is playfully weird. The strong lines and retro cartoony fell of Hernandez’s art gives this book a perfect look. But do I really need to tell you Gilbert Hernandez is great? I find the way he draws aliens to be a particular joy.

Now, I know that it’s quite possible that this book doesn’t align as closely with your interests as it does mine (really, “girls in rock bands,” “comics” and “space” is nearly the entire list of stuff I like) so it’s a little hard for me to imagine who wouldn’t like it.

But yes, you’ll like YEAH!.

Ivy
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I’ve been rewatching My So-Called Life on Netflix streaming.

When that show first aired, I was just the right age for it (a freshman in high school to Angela Chase’s sophomore) but now, I see very different things in it. I love the beautifully troubled Rayanne more than I used to — I think she probably became someone amazing — and whereas the teenage me found Jordan to be mysterious and intriguing, I now see how ridiculously unworthy of Angela he is. Also, poor Brian Krakow.

Now, while talking about My So-Called Life is plenty of fun (as is the ’90s fashion. Let’s bring some of that back!), I think really, stories about teenagers are really just a matter of perspective.

I liked a good deal of Sarah Oleksyk‘s Ivy (Oni Press, 2011) but I also think I see it in a different way than I would have if I was Ivy’s age.

Ivy is an artistic senior looking to escape her life in small-town Maine. She lives with her hard-working single mother and has fallen in with the other misfits at her high school if she really doesn’t like them. After meeting a trouble boy at an art school fair, Ivy tries to take her life into her own hands, with mixed results.

Oleksyk’s art is approachable and open — Ivy’s short hair gives her a punky edge while her nondescript facial features make her someone who doesn’t stand out. You went to high school with dozens of girls like this. Maybe you were one. Ivy’s friends, while a bit more distinctive, still look like people I knew (or at least knew people who were like them). It makes the story feel intimate and personal as well as universal.

Still, the dramatic turn — Ivy runs away with Josh after being suspended for school — feels a little false. It’s not that I don’t believe teenagers do this, but nothing in Ivy’s character really seemed like it was something she would do. The adults feel pretty one-dimensional. Ivy’s math teacher has it out for her for no real reason I can discern, and Ivy’s mother’s anger toward her feels misplaced. I can understand that Ivy’s mother wants a better life for her daughter, certainly, but I think she’s presented as being overly harsh toward her daughter.

But like I said, it’s maybe a matter of perspective. Oleksyk’s sympathies are with Ivy through and through, so of course the adults are going to be against her. Of course it’s a reasonable thing that Ivy would run away and that Josh would turn on her once they slept together. It’s a teenager’s world — everything is mostly black and white. People are good or bad and there’s not much in between.

The gray washes and Oleksyk’s strong lines do give Ivy the appropriate mood and her ability to express emotion both through quiet images and exaggerated drawings is admirable. She also composes beautiful pages, with borders closing in her characters or isolating them in open spaces. I have no complaints about her abilities as a comic artist.

I will love to see what Sarah Oleksyk does next. I just hope she leaves Ivy behind.

The New York Five
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I was prepared to write off all of the Minx line before I read The New York Four — finally, there was a book in this imprint I felt like teenage girls would actually want to read. Of course, ultimately, it didn’t matter since DC Comics dropped the Minx imprint.

But I was happy to see that The New York Five found a home in the Vertigo line. Sure, it was maybe a little outside of the typical Vertigo title — there isn’t an abundance of sex or violence here — but as far as comics that are for more than usual audiences, it fit right in.

I bought The New York Five happily. I want more comics like this, after all.

Well, maybe not exactly like this.

Picking up where The New York Four left off, our heroines Lona, Merissa, Ren and Riley are still dealing with the repercussions of their first semester, and they’re now all sharing an apartment. More or less. Lona is still coping with her new reality and who she is in New York; Merissa has family to deal with; Ren is a bit too much of a free spirit; and Riley is trying to make up with her estranged sister.

It’s a lot of drama and purposefully so. But I’d say it’s almost too much drama, especially once street kid Olive (the fifth in the New York “five”) is thrown into the mix. If you haven’t read the first book, you aren’t going to get to know these girls much at all — in writer Bryan Wood’s hands, they are broadly drawn character types. I wanted to get to know them, but that the whole point of this series was that the characters withdrew from each other, it was almost impossible to do so.

Ryan Kelly’s New York still feels like a real place, however, and his art gives these character life. They are still pouty lips and tousled hair, but their fashionable glamor is part of the reason why The New York Five works when it does — it feels aspirational. Even if you don’t want to be these characters, you easily admire them.

Still, whereas I enjoyed the intimate drama of The New York Four, The New York Five just seemed to pull in too many directions at once. I feel like it tried to be too big and lost sight of the power of just telling the stories of these four young women out on their own for the first time. Maybe if it had been five issues instead of four, I would’ve been happier with it.

But for all my complaints, I’d still pick up The New York Six if that ends up happening. Even if I wasn’t 100 percent sold on this one, I still want more like it to exist. I will still buy them. Clearly, for all my complaints about The New York Five, I’m still completely sold on it.

(This review is obviously based on the four issues of the limited series — you know, since the collected version isn’t out yet. You can still, more the likely, pick up the individual issues at better comic book stores. If you want it, I encourage you to do that, but I will happily take the few cents you would send my way with the pre-order of the collection.)

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.

I was never really a Spider-Man fan so I don’t know that much about Mary Jane. She has, however, always struck me as your basic pretty girl character — she only has a personality when it suits the comic. And as you know, she’s been ditched in favor of Gwen Stacy as the love interest in the upcoming reboot of the Spider-Man film franchise.

But that brings me to Mary Jane: Homecoming and Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane: Sophomore Jinx. These, if Wikipedia is to be believed, are more or less part of the same series although they don’t feel all that connected to me, honestly (granted, though, these two parts aren’t directly continuous, so I have missed some things in between the two).

Mary Jane: Homecoming Buy on Amazon.com

In Mary Jane: Homecoming, Mary Jane is dealing with her relationship with Harry Osbourn as well as Flash’s crush on her and troubles with her friend Liz. It’s all pretty typical high school stuff — Harry is aimlessly angry and he and Mary Jane just seem to be together because they are. Liz and MJ have a conflicted friendship — they like each other, sure, mostly because they’ve been friends forever, but they’re competitive with each other, too. Oh, and Spider-Man shows up and fights some bad guys a couple of times, but that’s pretty inconsequential (except MJ does feel a growing connection to him — and to Peter Parker).

In writer Sean McKeever‘s hands, the story’s twists have the right amount of drama without ever becoming over-the-top. These kids are just trying to figure themselves out as well as each other. The shifting alliances and confusing relationships feel natural. He has a wonderful grasp of how teenagers behave without being condescending. Takeshi Miyazawa‘s art is cute and soft and is just manga-like enough to make it distinctive from a superhero title. I love the eye for detail he has, from MJ and Liz’s updos for the homecoming dance to the emotional glances characters give each other.

Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane: Sophomore Jinx Buy on Amazon.com

Spider-Man Loves Mary Jane: Sophomore Jinx feels a bit different. It has another creative team of Terry Moore and Craig Rousseau and everything feels a bit bigger — more drama, more action, more conflict. Here, MJ is just starting her sophomore year of high school (hence the title) and struggles to find her place after someone starts some cruel rumors about her.

I don’t think anyone would accuse Moore of not being able to write women well. Even when Strangers in Paradise began getting more and more convoluted, it was always clear his female characters were fully realized. He does less well with teenage girls, though. This isn’t particularly bad, but he doesn’t seem to quite grasp the intricacies of teenage relationships (and maybe I’m wrong, but I’m almost sure no teenager was appending “not” to the end of a sentence to make it a negative in 2008). Rousseau’s art is stylized and has an exaggerated, animated feel to it, but also comes across as a bit more generic. I don’t think he gets to shine here.

Neither of these books are bad. I liked Homecoming more than Sophomore Jinx, but I liked both. But I was left with one major question: Who was this title for?

Now, I ended up with them because I am interested in this sort of thing (you know, comics aimed at girls). Homecoming was a dollar at a comic con and a friend gave me Sophomore Jinx because he ended up with it and figured it had a better home with me.

But other than me, who was this intended for? I can’t really picture the audience for this title.

Mary Jane is presented as likeable, sweet and smart, but she’s also one of the popular kids. She has some problems at home, sure, but a lot of that just feels thrown in to keep her from seeming too perfect.

I can only use myself as an example, but as a teen — even as a preteen — I wouldn’t have been interested in Mary Jane. I was a misfit and I didn’t hang out with cheerleaders or football players. I wasn’t interested in reading about them. And I’d guess that a lot of teen girls that are into comics wouldn’t really either.

(I did see some girls excited by Archie comics, so maybe I’m wrong.)

While I was critical of a lot the Minx titles for feeling too young for their intended audience, they were mostly about girls I would’ve wanted to read about at that age. I could see a 12-year-old enjoying Homecoming that her loving father (or even older brother) bought for her, but I do think Sophomore Jinx, while still pretty innocent, is probably too old for her. I don’t think any older teen girls who like comics would’ve sought this out on their own. It’s possible I’m wrong there, though.

I think Marvel has done some interesting things aimed at women (even before last year’s push, and even when they’ve put stupid covers on them) but I’m not sure why they felt like Mary Jane needed to be its go-to teen girl character, other than the company thought she was (or would be) “popular” following the Spider-Man movies.

Which I guess means we can look forward to some comics starring Gwen Stacy.

Aya
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A group of teenage girls lie to their parents to go out dancing. They worry over schoolwork and what they’re going to do with their lives. They get into trouble and face consequences of their actions.

This probably sounds like a story you’ve read. And Aya (Drawn and Quarterly, 2007) does tread familiar ground in that respect.

Except for one key thing: It takes place in the Ivory Coast in 1978.

Writer Marguerite Abouet has a clear voice about the time and place she’s writing about. She had a light touch when it comes to the stories of the title character Aya and her friends, Adjoua and Bintou, but she doesn’t shy away from presenting these girls’ reality — one that was full of class divisions and sexism.

Artist Clement Oubrerie is well-matched to Abouet’s style. His art is breezy in its suggestion of movement and his eye for posture and facial features go a long way to suggest the personalities of these characters.

In their hands, these young women are strong, even when they face adversity and the effects of their behavior (I like that while there are repercussions, the girls aren’t punished for being who they are — at least not any more than the men involved). They still have people to answer to, sure, but they are their own people, even given the constraints of the society they lived in.

Still, the story is ultimately simple, and as enjoyable as the work of Abouet and Oubrerie is, this volume doesn’t amount to much. It’s a lovely glimpse into these lives in this time and place, but it didn’t exactly linger too long. Still, I wouldn’t mind reading more about Aya and her life, so they did something right here.

Dolltopia
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Abby Denson lives in New York, makes comics and plays music. I think that was basically my dream life when I was 16 (and in all honesty, it doesn’t sound too bad to me now). Clearly, she’s awesome.

Dolltopia (2009, Green Candy Press) is the story of dolls that run away to a society where they can be whoever they want — they’re not stuck in the roles the factory gave them. Kitty Ballerina dyes her hair hot pink and cuts up Army Jim’s camouflage jacket. Jim, on the other hand, dons a kilt. The other dolls they meet are welcoming and encourage individuality. There are multiple outfit changes, a couple of helpful cats, and plenty of fun as the dolls find a permanent home where they can all be themselves. Yes, there’s a message of acceptance of others and yourself, but it’s never heavy-handed. Mostly, it’s just way too much fun.

Denson’s rock and roll sensibility is prevalent in her playful art and the black, white and pink color scheme. I don’t want to cut up my book, but it also comes with paper dolls that allow you to dress up Kitty and Jim in all their fabulous outfits. What’s not to love?

Really, nothing to do with Dolltopia and I’m almost sure I’ve posted it before, but I will use any excuse to share the “Teen Boat” theme song. You will get it stuck in your head for days and not necessarily be unhappy about that.

The Essential Dazzler Vol. 1
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At Baltimore Comic-Con, I picked up The Essential Dazzler Vol. 1 because it was $5 and I like Dazzler.

This isn’t so much a review of that book — honestly, you probably already know if you’re someone who wants to read a lot of Dazzler or not. Nothing I could say could convince you otherwise.

Yes, these comics are fun — the stories are silly and without much consequence but the ridiculousness is spirited. I summarize this volume this way: In one issue, Dazzler goes to jail because she’s charged with “murdering” the villain Klaw (oh, don’t worry, she’s acquitted), but really, it’s just so she can fight the Grapplers. In case that’s not clear — there’s an entire sequence that is a fight in a women’s prison for no real reason other than it probably seemed like an awesome idea at the time.

Most of the title’s silly qualities come from the character of Dazzler herself. She was a character created by committee — a committee that basically gave up on her before the end of the process. Still, Marvel figured “We’ve already spent the money …” so they went ahead with the series. She was a disco singer who debuted at a point when no one cared about disco anymore (although the disco element was pretty quickly dropped). We are constantly told she’s an amazing singer even though we never get a good sense of what kind of music she likes to sing. She’s gorgeous and all the boys — including various superheroes — love her without question. She’s also really smart and was supposed to become a lawyer but she just wanted to sing! (I like how they use “lawyer” as code for “boring adult job that makes a lot of money.” After all, being a doctor is too noble and being a teacher doesn’t pay enough.)

She doesn’t want to be a heroine (I’d suggest a drinking game where you take a drink whenever Dazzler says some variation on “I am not a heroine! I just want to sing!” although I think that would get you very drunk very quickly, so it’s not a good idea) but is constantly saving the world or the universe. Or just a campus full of students. Her power is weak to start out (she can turn sound into light that, uh, confuses and disorients bad guys) before immediately swinging the other way, becoming excessively powerful (she can then store sound energy and release it as laser-like bursts or something. It’s explained constantly but I don’t know if I completely understand it).

Basically, Dazzler comes across like a character created by 14-year-old girls for other 14-year-old girls.

Still, she’s charming and independently-minded. Her dedication to her dream is admirable (she just wants to sing! you see). While her real-life problems — not having money, estrangement from her father — come across as pretty trivial matters (Dazzler needed some problems so she wouldn’t be too perfect), they’re still easy to relate to. I was amused by a lot of Dazzler for unintended reasons because this is a silly comic. Still, after a while, I found myself rooting for her and actually enjoying her adventures in a genuine way.

But I do think she needs to ditch those roller skates that magnetically attach to her shoes.

I know Dazzler is still hanging around the Marvel universe and has been involved with the X-Men recently. So while she’s never really gone away, I think she’s someone who could do with a revival. The idea of a pop star having to balance her career, love life and super powers is remains appealing. I think some out-of-continuity, standalone stories featuring Dazzler would be great fun. With current reference points in flashy pop stars like Lady Gaga and Ke$ha, I’m actually surprised no one has done this yet.

I am happy to see there is an Essential Dazzler Vol. 2. I may even pay more than $5 for it.

Chicagoland Detective
Agency #1:
The Drained Brains Caper
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We first meet 13-year-old Megan when she walks into Raf’s family’s pet supply store looking for a tarantula. Instantly, readers are pretty sure she’s the most delightful kind of trouble — she dresses in Gothic Lolita-lite clothes, reads manga, writes haiku, and got kicked out of her last school for starting a fire.

She would have trouble fitting in just about anywhere, but there’s something odd about her summer school, Stepford Preparatory Academy and Megan’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

In the first volume of this series from Graphic Universe, written by the legendary Trina Robbins with art by Tyler Page, we meet a fun, feisty heroine, a nerdy and capable young man and even a detective-movie-obsessed talking dog. What’s not to like?

Robbins handles Megan with grace — she’s not a completely likable character as she’s a little stubborn and full of herself — but she’s presented as being intelligent and resourceful. I also love that Megan’s vegetarianism is presented as a positive thing and not just another throwaway act of teenage rebellion. The story has a few twists and turns, but at least adult readers are going to know what’s going on pretty quickly (the middle grade audience this is aimed at may not quite catch the “Stepford” reference, though).

Page’s art has an indie-comics-meets-manga vibe that’s lovely and appropriate for this book, and I love that he made Megan actually look Asian. His page and panel layouts are dynamic and keep the book moving quickly. If I have one complaint it’s that it was hard for me to tell how old Raf was initially — we are eventually told he was 13, but I was under the impression he may have been a bit older since he was working in his parents’ store.

These characters are great fun and their adventures through movie (detective and monster, among other things, I’m sure) clichés will no doubt be wonderful. I greatly look forward to the next books in this series.

Advanced reading copy provided by Graphic Universe/Lerner Publishing Group through NetGalley.

A Drunken Dream
and Other Stories
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I didn’t buy that much while I was at Comic-Con. Yes, a good portion of that was because I lost my wallet on Saturday (and it never turned up, by the way. I’m going to assume it’s in a landfill somewhere now) but I really didn’t have that much money to spend in the first place.

But it was a privilege to purchase Moto Hagio’s A Drunken Dream and Other Stories (Fantagraphics, 2010, with translation by Matt Thorn). It should go without saying that if you’re at all interested in women’s comics or manga, you should buy this book. But in all honesty, I think even if you just like comics and beautifully-told stories, this should be a part of your bookshelf.

Most of the stories here revolve around loss. Sometimes the loss is a physical death or departure. Sometimes it is more psychological as characters try to come to grips with who they are or aren’t. Often, it’s quite a bit of both. “Angel Mimic” has a young woman coming to terms with her choices and “The Child Who Comes Home” has a family facing pain they’d rather forget. Hagio treats her characters with affection and sympathy and rarely is anyone ever completely right or completely wrong. Through their anguish, she show tenderness for the human spirit.

Hagio does deal quite a bit with what it’s like to be a girl or woman in a changing world. The earlier “Girl on the Porch with a Puppy” focuses on a little girl who does not behave in the way her family expects, with a disturbing ending. “Hanshin: Half-God” focuses on conjoined sisters. One is beautiful but empty-headed and the other is ugly but intelligent. Told from the perspective of the “ugly” sister, it deals with how she perceives her own worth in the world, especially once she and her sister are separated and she is the one to survive.

The centerpiece of the book is Hagio’s “Iguana Girl” about a girl, Rika, whose mother can only see her as an iguana and subsequently shuns her. As Rika grows up, she has to find her own self-worth (even she believes she’s an iguana) and make peace with who she is and her relationship with her mother. It’s a powerful story — Rika is strong and funny despite her mistreatment and Hagio makes the wise choice of drawing Rika-as-iguana as cute rather than realistic. It gives the story a lightness and humor that balances the thoughtful tone.

Hagio’s art is, of course, constantly gorgeous. This is evident throughout the collection, but very much so in the title story, “A Drunken Dream.” The lush scenes of this romantic tragedy are shaded in white, black, gray and red and transition from space to ancient Rome. Her talent for expressive faces and small, every-day details from the interiors of homes to clothing make all these stories feel like they’re populated by real people.

Thorn’s translation definitely seems to be true to Hagio’s stories. He is obviously a great admirer of her and he does her justice.

Also included is an overview of the manga scene Hagio was a part of, “The Magnificient Forty-Niners,” and an extensive interview with Hagio. Both are by Thorn and originally appeared in the July 2005 issue of The Comics Journal.

This is a beautiful book by an incredible creator. Whether or not you knew of Hagio before or this is going to be your introduction to her, it’s a book you need to have.