Comicsgirl

Blink: So Far Buy on Amazon.com

There is that period of time in life just after college but before adulthood has completely set in. It’s the time where the world feels fresh and exciting. Even if not everything is possible, it does feel like there are more options than not.

There has been plenty of art created about this time — from literature to movies — and most end up with a kind of navel-gazing, what-does-it-all-mean perspective. Refreshingly, Max Ink‘s Blink: So Far (ONWARDStudio/self-published, 2011) focuses more on the freedom of this time. Focusing on two friends — Blink, a cartoonist who’s a bit a dreamer; and Sam, a realist who is maybe hiding a sensitive heart. They drift in and out of coffee shops and bookstores, take walks outside, sit around bonfires, all the while chatting and trying to figure out their lives.

It may not sound particularly thrilling — it is a book of comics that is mostly two women having conversations, after all — but Ink handles these characters gracefully. Blink and Sam tease and reassure each other as only two best friends can. Sam playfully harasses Blink for crossword puzzle answers in “Time and Few Words” but then kindly comforts her through self-doubt in “A Brief, Hopeless Case.” Ink includes details such as that Sam likes blues and Blink likes Beat poetry, giving his characters a certain realism they wouldn’t have had otherwise.

Ink’s art is airy and light. He enjoys drawing outdoor scenes and includes plenty of white space around his characters. His panels and pages never feel cluttered. He also has a remarkably joyful sense of body language and posture. Sam carries herself with a defensive strength and Blink is more open and carefree. His ability to express these characters personalities not only through their facial expressions and dialogue but also their presence on the page adds depth. Blink and Sam end up feeling less like characters and people you could easily know.

Blink: So Far is quiet and thoughtful and I’d hate for it to get overlooked just because of that. I was amazed at how quickly I became attached to these people and their stories. I can’t wait to find out more about Blink and Sam and their lives. But I’ll enjoy hanging out with them in this book until then.

Review copy provided by Max Ink.

I love Ask MetaFilter. I really do. It’s an incredibly useful site and while sometimes fights do erupt, it’s smartly moderated. There is an awesome wealth of information to be had there.

But there are some things it does not do well. A user asks “Which graphic novels should I read?” and explains what she’s read recently — for example, she really liked How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less by Sarah Glidden and thought Julia Wertz’s Drinking at the Movies was really funny for the most part. She liked Persepolis OK.

She wants to know what she should read next, specifying she’d prefer strong female characters and more funny than serious.

The first two recommendations she gets are The Sandman and Strangers in Paradise. I was actually surprised at how long it took someone to bring up Y: The Last Man.

Certainly, taken as a whole, there are some good recommendations in there for her mixed in with things like The Dark Knight Returns (and I’m biased, sure, but thank you kind user who pointed her to the Ignatz winners and nominees because that is a good starting point).

And no, The Sandman and Strangers in Paradise are not bad comics. They are, for the most part, good comics. They are comics I like. But they’re not the first comics I’d recommend, especially under circumstances like this. They aren’t specific to what this woman was asking for, to begin with, but mostly, they are incredibly lazy recommendations and basically say to me “I stopped paying attention to what comics women may like about 10 years ago because we only need those two.” (When I started Comicsgirl way back in the dawn of time in 1998, do you know what were some of the first comics I wrote about? Oh, that’s right: The Sandman and Strangers in Paradise.)

There are so many great comics out there right now for and/or by women. I don’t think you have to look very hard to find them (at least, I don’t — I have shelves full of them). I personally feel like the asker of the question already has a pretty good handle on some interesting comics in terms of that. I’m sure if the typical “comics for women” were of interest to her, she would’ve found them already. After all, that she’s picked up both Julia Wertz and Sarah Glidden makes me think she knows what she’s doing more than she thinks she does.

I just think if the usual answers is all someone has, not answering the question is always a valid option, too.

Strangers in Paradise image taken from Terry Moore’s site.

Should we? These are honest questions.

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 Buy on Amazon.com

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.

Graphic Women Buy at Amazon.com

Hilary Chute’s Graphic Women (2010, Columbia University Press) isn’t necessarily the sort of book you read for fun (unless you are the sort who reads these sorts of books for fun) It’s dense and academic and intended for that audience.

But it’s amazingly in-depth, smart, engaging and important. It’s not light reading but it’s far from boring.

Chute devotes a chapter each to Aline Kominsky-Crumb, Phoebe Gloeckner, Lynda Barry, Marjane Satrapi and Alison Bechdel. These five creators cover a fairly broad range in terms of style, certainly, but Chute’s focus is more what they have in common — all tend to interpret the trauma of their lives in a graphic narrative format (not that I’d expect anything less, but I do applaud Chute for not referring to these books as “graphic novels” because they’re not).

While Satrapi and Bechdel are fairly well-known, even outside of comics, I think Gloeckner and Barry are two important creators and I love their inclusion here. Kominsky-Crumb’s work isn’t exactly to my tastes, but her influence is obvious.

If you’re familiar with these creators’ works, much of this book may be obvious to you, but Chute’s insights and interpretations are always smart. She never over-explains her subject matter and mostly she lets the work speak for itself (many images from these creator’s comics are included) and just adds context.

Still, if you’re picking it up for a pleasure read like I did, it can be slow going. The more interesting chapters for me where on the creators I was less familiar with because I felt like I got more out of them. I already felt like I knew about Satrapi and Persepolis so I admit to skimming portions of that chapter. I don’t think that’s a reflection on Chute’s writing or research — both of which are excellent — but more that the nature of this book not quite being suited to leisure-time reading.

I guess my feelings about this book comes down to these things: Is Graphic Women a great book to read on a Sunday afternoon? Maybe not, but that depends on what you do on your Sunday afternoons. Is it incredibly cool that this book exists? Yes. Am I happy that I read it? Absolutely. I hope it makes its way onto all kinds of bookshelves — even if it’s more suited ones in a university library rather than at home.

Review copy provided through NetGalley.