Category: Comics

Jock is awesome, as proven by the cover images for DC’s August books:

Is there a better cover artist working in comics today? His interiors are pretty darn awesome, too. I’m going to have to go home and re-read Losers.

I’d forgotten how good Local could be.

It’s understandable, I suppose. The book has shipped pretty sporadically for a while now. And while I loved the first three issues (the first four? I go back and fourth on #4, but more on that later), the last few issues have been merely good.

But #9 is very good. Very, very good, indeed.

In a way, I’m reminded of Six Feet Under, and not just because this issue is about death and remembrance. Six Feet Under was often a difficult show to like: At any given point in the series, there was probably at least one main character acting like a complete jackass; the show was never afraid to explore the unpleasantness of human beings. And the show hit something of a rough spot in the fourth season, along with That’s My Dog, an episode that is both loved and hated for its divergence from the show’s usual tone.

Local had its own That’s My Dog with the fourth issue, Two Brothers, when a series that seemed to be all about subtle character work was interrupted with violence. (Interestingly, both stories begin with a seemingly innocuous hitchhiker; but then, I suppose a lot of stories do.) Two Brothers was a tonal departure from the series, but not a thematic one: Local has always been about making choices and taking responsibility (or not). And regardless of your feelings on the story itself, Two Brothers – like That’s My Dog – set the stage for the rest of the series. Set things up, knock them down, and then pick up the pieces.

Poor Megan McKeenan, who seemed to be getting her life together after a dubious beginning, had everything shaken. In the fifth issue, she was obviously kind of fucked up, but still likeable. By the end of the sixth issue, though, the reader would be forgiven for thinking Megan a complete bitch. The seventh issue offers a bit of a reprieve of sorts – Megan’s not really in it, but instead we meet her cousin Nicky, who’s even more of a fuckup but without the virtue having made any effort to pull it all together. The eighth issue came back to Megan, who seemed to be getting it all back together.

And so, of course, Brian Wood & Ryan Kelly have to pull the rug out from under her again. (They’re really bastards, you know.) Megan receives the news that her mother has died, takes a trip with her boyfriend, and relives some old memories.

Yes, I realize I just spent three paragraphs summing up the series and then covered the latest issue in two sentences. Suffice it to say that if you were getting annoyed with Megan’s behaviour, all will be forgiven with this issue. It ties up the series so perfectly that this could very easily be the final issue; it helps to explain how Megan got to where she was when the series began. And if you’ve been reading the series from that beginning, it’s entirely possible you may feel the slightest hint of a tear as you read this issue.

Local has been something of a rarity in comics these days: A book deliberately written for the single-issue format. Wood and Kelly have so far created eight stories that stood almost perfectly on their own, though each issue built on the last. In this respect, too, the book reminds me of Six Feet Under: Even when the series hit a lull, even when the characters got annoying and the stories began to drag, it was always going somewhere, always building, always heading to some unspecified release point. For Local, the ninth issue is that release point: This is what it’s all been about so far.

In that way, actually, this ninth issue is something of a failure as far as self-contained stories go. I suppose it’s a perfectly good story if you haven’t been following Local, but if you know Megan’s story so far, this is a great comic. The best issue of the series to date, and quite likely the best single issue of a comic I’ve read this year.

All right, I admit it: Comiquette-gate has far more legs than I’d thought possible.

Yesterday, the New York Post checked in with an article about the Mary Jane and her laundry. It’s not terribly articulate, and I’m not convinced the writer actually knows what the internet is, as he says things like “on the site Livejournal.com”. It reads like someone said “Hey, write an article about this thing. I need it in ten minutes.” But still – Real media!

Today, the Toronto Star checks in with a more comprehensive article that manages to wrangle a perfunctory statement from Marvel:

“The Mary Jane statuette is the latest release in a limited edition collectibles line. The item is aimed at adults that have been long-time fans of the Marvel Universe. It is intended only for mature collectors and sold in specialty, trend, collectible and comic shops – not mass retail.”

I find the use of the words “adult” and “mature” in conjunction with this sort of statue fairly ridiculous. And incidentally, how many of Marvel’s products are sold outside of “specialty, trend, collectible and comic shops”? Not that it particularly matters: It’s pretty much a non-statement, used in conjunction with the strategy generally known as “Ignoring It and Hoping it Goes Away.”

The interesting question, then, is where does it go from here? Is this an “Internet Comic Nerds are Funny” story, or is there more to it? This is, to some, an unusual story, and it’s at least got a high-profile tie-in to a blockbuster film. It’s certainly got more mass appeal than “Bad Artist Turns Power Girl Into Sex Doll.” And will the comic press, such as it is, pick up on at all? Will CBR or Newsarama, with their relatively easy access the higher-ups at Marvel, pursue it any way, or will it be a one-off question to Joe Quesada with no followup?

Incidentally, Sideshow Toys, the company at the heart (kind of) of the storm has fallen behind in purging political commentary from the statue’s page. (Which, let’s face it, is perfectly understandable: How many companies are going to let people use their website to denigrate their product?) At this point, pretty much everyone posting there seems to have some sort of psychological dysfunction pulling them to one extreme or another: The person who says “This has got to be one of the most sexist statuettes I’ve ever seen” has clearly not seen very many statuettes based on comic book women.

On the other hand, poster after poster maintains that there’s nothing wrong with the statue, it’s not sexist, and that it’s perfectly plausible and in-character. Guys, seriously: The statue is a short walk down the hall from being softcore porn. It’s pure cheesecake, and it’s cheesecake that doesn’t even have most of the charm of the original Adam Hughes drawing. Just admit it: The statue is all about sexual titillation. It makes no sense on any level beyond that. If you’re into that sort of thing, just come clean. You’re still kind of creepy, but at least you don’t seem like you’re in desperate denial about it.

Also, “There are more important things to worry about” may be strictly true, but it’s hardly a defence for anything. If it were, it would be okay for me to beat you into unconciousness with the statue, since there are more important things – like murder, and war – than petty, if enthusiastic, assault.

I really should read more manga.

Oh, I have excuses. I spend far too much money on North American comics as it is. If I keep going at this rate, I’ll be spending even more for a new book case. And it’s all so overwhelming – everything seems to have about 25 volumes, and many of them look alike. I presume this is how the traditional comics market looks to outsiders.

But help is close at hand in the form of a familiar friend. Dark Horse, purveyors of Hellboy and Buffy, among many others, offer an increasingly impressive selection of manga. And while Tokyopop and Viz may corner the market on teenage angst books, Dark Horse is importing some of the more unusual and off-beat books aimed at more mature readers.

I’ve sampled a few of these to varied results, but am pretty happy with my most recent venture into Japanese sequential art: The first volume of The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service, the story of a group of Buddhist university students looking for extra credit and a bit of cash by helping the dead resolve any outstanding problems or mysteries.

It is, as one might guess, rather a morbid book. It’s fairly versatile, once you get past all the corpses, and it alternates between horror and black comedy. A bit of the clinical treatment of death on Six Feet Under mixed with the grotesquery and outrageousness of a Takashi Miike film, if you will.

Mild-mannered Kuro is looking for a job when he’s unwittingly sucked into Ao Sasaki’s scheme to apply Buddhist principles to the real world. It turns out to be a good thing, as Kuro is kind of psychic. His colleagues have equally versatile skills: Numata is a dowser whose pendulum leads him to corpses instead of water; Makino has studied embalming abroad and is an expert in her field; Yata channels a space alien through a puppet.

Kurosagi is fairly episodic. Their first case, in which they discover that helping to align corpse karma offers both spiritual and financial rewards, involves a lovers’ suicide pact with complications. Then it’s off to find the proper resting place for an abandoned grandmother, and from there to a problem that involves a bit of dismemberment. And finally comes the story of an insurance agent who is able to predict, and possibly influence, the deaths of his clients.

While the plots vary in mystery and effectiveness – a serial killer is identified and caught a wee bit too easily, for example – the real appeal of the book lies in its effective blend of suspense, comedy, and horror. This isn’t a book for the faint of heart: One of the first images in this volume is a hanged corpse, bloated and surrounded by a swarm of flies. There are, obviously, quite a few dead people to be found here, and most of them are pretty obviously dead.

Writer Eiji Otsuka keeps things lively with properly timed dashes of humour. Yata’s alien puppet provides the occasional dose of profanity. The comedy value of hauling a deceased senior citizen across town in a cabinet is obvious enough. And thankfully everyone seems to realize the absurdity of traipsing about with corpses. Housui Yamazaki’s art is on the same page, thankfully. He captures death in all its gruesome detail and can crank up the moody-spooky dial to 11, but still keeps the Kurosagi crew themselves in the light.

The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service isn’t particularly revolutionary, but it is one of the more unusual books you’re likely find, nation of origin be damned. It’s certainly for mature readers who aren’t afraid of some disturbing content and situations, but it’s worth the time and money if you’re looking for some morbid entertainment.

Neil Gaiman tells us. And then he shows us.

I am taking notes ont this for any future weddings in which I may be involved.

Last week, I posted a link to this item. Not only is it kind of funny and disturbing, but but I loved the sheer obviousness of the headline: It’s important for an expert to tell us that people who gamble so much they can’t take the time to take a bathroom break have a problem.

I’m reminded of that article by the latest furor over a rather gratuitous Mary Jane statue.

This comes from a company that hires Greg Land and Greg Horn. A company that seems to be pushing Frank Cho further towards soft-core porn with every cover. And yet it’s this statue, which is a fairly limited item aimed at an even smaller niche audience than its books, that betrays the company’s attitude towards women?

It’s an odd bit of timing, as it seems to suggest Johanna was right: This statute (along with several similar items DC recently previewed) pretty definitively shows who they’re publishing their superhero comics for.

Comic Books: A medium. Everything from Spider-Man to Peanuts to Jimmy Corrigan to Battle Royale. Even “Comic Books” is probably overly precise, but it’s catchier than “Sequential Graphic Art.”

Superheroes: A genre. Well, kind of. Probably a sub-cross-genre of action/sci-fi/fantasy/adventure. But we’re calling it a genre for now. Generally speaking, people with extraordinary powers and/or abilities fighting similarly enhanced villains. Often, though not necessarily, with costumes. You can obviously nitpick all you want – in fact, Marvel and DC technically co-own the trademark to “superhero” – but practically speaking it can be anything from The Shadow and Superman to Heroes and Madman.

Superhero Comics: A genre within the medium. Hellboy and Amazing Spider-Man are both superhero comics. So are Nextwave and Sailor Moon and Swamp Thing and Seaguy.

Marvel & DC Superhero Comics: Superhero comics owned and published by two specific companies and aimed at a specific audience. Their marketing policy, at least as far as their superhero books are concerned, can be summed up allegorically by the president of the Southern Cracker Factory:

Crackers are a family food. Happy families. Maybe single people eat crackers, we don’t know. Frankly, we don’t want to know.

Why, he’s so cool that this interview about 52 is a great read even though I gave up on the book after six issues.

Particularly interesting highlights:

• “The demands of the weekly format meant that 52 always had to be prioritized – above everything else – and the Wildstorm stuff I was working on really suffered for that.”
• ” I wound up with the space team because Animal Man was in there and the only way Vertigo would allow us to use Animal Man prominently was if I wrote the character”
• “It’s a bit like having sex with a jellyfish: once might an interesting experiment, twice would be perversion!”

The first three issues of Scalped were good, but not great. Writer Jason Aaron has a great feel for mood, setting, character, and dialogue, but the actual story seemed underwhelming. R.M. Guera’s pencils suited the dirty and gritty feel of the book, but weren’t always effective at straightforward storytelling. All told, it was a book with plenty of potential that nonetheless balanced on the edge of my reading list.

Thankfully, Aaron and Guera have taken a big step forward with issues 4 & 5. Aaron slows the action down considerably and focuses on both character work and background information. Protagonist Dash Bad Horse is set aside largely in favour of his mother, Gina, and her past with Chief Red Crow. The character dynamics that were introduced in the first three issues receive a great deal of explanation here: Gina and Red Crow, Dash and Gina, Dash and the FBI, and why exactly the FBI is so keen to have an agent, and Dash in particular, on the rez. The emphasis on the supporting cast is also a big boost, as it changes the dynamic for the better: Instead of a book about one angry young man, it’s becoming more of an ensemble piece.

Aaron also explores Dash’s relationship with Carol, Red Crow’s daughter. Well, “explore” and “relationship” are probably a tad too high concept: mostly, Dash just goes around beating the crap out of Carol’s one-afternoon-stands. It’s not exactly Romeo and Juliet, but Aaron conveys the love-hate dynamic quite nicely, with ample help from Guera.

Indeed, Guera gets much more an opportunity to strut his stuff in these issues, as Aaron seems to have trusted him with telling more of the story. Dash’s observation/stalking sequences are largely narrative-free, and Guera’s also given free reign to illustrate the aftermath of some of Dash’s not-quite-by-the-books busts. It’s an impressive bit of visual storytelling, and Guera really gets to define the world of the reservation. And of course, he also pulls off the final reveal of the story, which is obviously going to be the event that defines the series for the foreseeable future. While I admit to having my doubts about Guera after the first few issues, he’s turned things around quickly and won himself at least one fan.

As a matter of fact, issues five and six of Scalped are so good that it gives me something to complain about: What were they waiting for? While these issues nominally constitute a two-issue story arc, there’s no real reason to separate it from the opening three-issue arc. (Crossing Midnight did the same thing.) The flashbacks in these two issues would have been more effective spread over five issues; instead, Aaron gave us three issues of setup and a bit of introduction, but didn’t really move the story forward; all I really remember about issues two and three is the Burn Victims, and they turned out to be far more disposable than I’d thought. Only with the fourth and fifth issues does he really show us what Scalped is all about, and that seems a bit too long of a wait.

I’d actually suggest that if you haven’t sampled Scalped yet, you’re better off starting here than with the first issue. This is the kind of book I was hoping for from Aaron after The Other Side, the book that was poking its head out in the first three issues but never really showing itself. I’m not sure why Aaron was keeping his best cards hidden for so long, but now that they’re on the table it’s clear he has a pretty good hand. The book has very quickly leapt from “promising” to “dammit, I want the next issue!”

Aaron’s got some momentum now, and Guera is definitely hitting his stride. Let’s see if they can keep it up.