Blackballed

A recent livejournal post by Bryan Lee O’Malley led me to check out the manga series Gantz, by Oku Hiroya, recently. Dark Horse is set to start publishing the series this summer, but the 250+ chapters that have appeared so far in Japan are available as scanlations for the impatient. O’Malley’s description reminded me a little bit of Battle Royale, and it sounded like it was worth checking out.

I spent the next several nights reading multiple chapters per night, intrigued, impressed, horrified, and disappointed at times.

The concept of the series is this: an assortment of people who have just died, suddenly find themselves alive again, sitting in an unfurnished apartment overlooking Tokyo. The only other thing in the room is a mysterious black ball, Gantz, which soon starts issuing forth orders. Their mission? To use weapons and combat suits (provided by the ball) to engage in a hunt for aliens in the city. If they survive, they can return to their lives…until the ball decides to bring them back to do it all over again.

The natural first reaction is confusion and disbelief, but the unwilling participants soon find that this game is deadly serious.

Like Battle Royale, Gantz uses the hyper-violent and fantastic narrative framework as a way to explore the moral and ethical choices of the characters. Do you let the other players in the game die to further your own survival? Do you put your life on the line to ensure the survival of others? Do you act out of altruism, self-interest, sadism, or fear? The hunts also come to represent exaggerated versions of the struggles in the “normal” lives of the protagonists. The central character, Kei Kurono, comes to anticipate the hunts as a way to feel a sense of self-worth, recognition, and accomplishment, in contrast to his undistinguished life as a middle school underacheiver. Masaru Kato, Kei’s former schoolmate, fights to protect those around him, the same way he fights to be a guardian for his younger brother.

Apart from the long, nuanced character arcs and copious gory action, there’s a sense of mystery to Gantz that keeps you hooked, at least for a while. Circumstances arise and the characters are forced to accept them and fight before they can try to rationalize or understand their situation. There are questions right from the start. What is Gantz? Why and how does it gather these people, and why and how does it transport them around Tokyo at it’s whim? Are these aliens real, and do they deserve to be killed? Why are the hunters and aliens invisible to the world at large during the hunt? Is there an end to this sadistic game? Answers come slowly, and each one only leads to more questions.

Despite the interesting subtext, Gantz is seinen manga at it’s heart, characterized by flashy battles, gallons of blood, and gratuitous nudity to appeal to its teenage male audience. The stakes of the game keep climbing, and the body count follows suit, as each chapter tries to top the last for outrageous violence. This is Gantz’s downfall, in my opinion. The central mystery takes a backseat, and becomes simply an excuse for increasingly sociopathic outbursts by the nominal protagonists, outbursts that spill over into the “real” Tokyo between hunts, at one point including a cold-blooded massacre of innocent civilians.

At some point, there’s a sense that Hiroya has stretched himself too thin. New elements are introduced to the story seemingly out of nowhere, and only serve to detract from the human focus of the first few story arcs. Psychic powers and vampires show up with no warning, reducing the contrast between the day to day reality and the supernatural scenes. Every chapter tries harder to push the envelope of violence and depravity. What started out as a way of exploring the human conscience becomes a series of brutal bloodlettings.

There could be something interesting to say about the resignation and acceptance of these circumstances by the characters. Gantz could work as a metaphor for war, for the increasing callousness of modern society, for the inundation of ultraviolent media, but in its race to keep the readers adrenaline levels pushed to the limit, it loses the provocative subtext. The latest chapters are adolescent power fantasy (which has been an element all along), with only lip service paid to the idea of right and responsibility.

It’s worth reading, if you’re the type of reader who can stomach over-the-top gory violence, but it’s also worth stopping at some point. Sadly, it looks like some of the most interesting ideas the series originally explored have fallen by the wayside.

Sounds of Your Name

Nate Powell, Sounds of Your Name

Microcosm Publishing, $18.00

My first exposure to Nate Powell was through my 2006 trek to Olympia Comics Festival, where I picked a few issues of his “Walkie Talkie” series. In true post-festival form, I was too busy coming down from the high of meeting so many cool artists and the low of having aching joints that his issues sat unread and neglected for a period of time.

Once I read my way through the stack, I came face-to-face with “Walkie Talkie.” The quality of printing was low, but the talent and writing was high. So impressed was I that I scoured high and low for more of his work. About a year ago I found a copy of Sounds of Your Name and devoured it. In fact, about every three months I find myself in that comic slump where everything feels the same, looks the same, and makes me feel the same. My antidote is reading Nate Powell’s work. And for far too long, I’ve kept this praise to myself.

Sounds of Your Name collects comics dating back to 1992, but unlike some retrospective collections you would not be able to figure that out by flipping through the pages. His art has been very consistent in quality and character, without any missteps showing amateur abilities. The fluidity of his lines set a highly emotional tone to his work, with expert shading and facial expressions rounding out the character of his art. When looking at his panels, it is impossible to only see it in the black and white tones that he is actually restricted to.

But the writing - oh boy - this is the good stuff. His words carry great weight, as he uses dialogue in an economic way. There is a sad quality, colored with angst, but it’s done with such quiet tones that it is barely detectable. He makes you pay attention, and once you do the cadence of the voices mixed with the fluidity of his art create a highly dimensional world where you can get lost in, kick your feet up, and let it wash over you.

This, folks, is the stuff that I live for. And thanks to the folks at Top Shelf, I’ll get another Nate Powell fix in September with his new book “Swallow Me Whole.”

976 sq. ft.

I was pretty excited when I discovered that Tom Kaczynski was going to be one of the new Mome contributors, back in the Spring 2007 issue. I’d picked up a few of his minicomics at APE, and was impressed by his aesthetic, from drawing style to color choices and cover design. Definitely an artist to watch, and his first couple of contributions to that anthology kept me interested. But his most recent piece, 976 sq. ft., really struck a chord with me.

His previous Mome work is steeped in modern anxiety, a theme he’s continued from his work in the free-associative minicomics Transalaska, Transsiberia, and Transatlantis. While those minis featured first person, stream of consciousness ruminations on the nature of modern society and his place in it, specifically through the lens of his upbringing in Communist Poland, his two initial Mome pieces placed those themes into loose narratives that borrow heavily from the psychological thriller genre.

976 sq. ft. is similar, examining the changing face of urban neighborhoods through the obsession of one couple. When I started reading it, I had to flip to the back of the book and check his biography, to see if he was living in Seattle, since it described so well what was happening all over town. Turns out he’s currently in Minneapolis. But his description of the condominium onslaught in a sub-neighborhood of an unnamed city could’ve easily described one of several neighborhoods here in my town. The tiny chunk of non-descript buildings that suddenly becomes a “Neighborhood,” complete with catchy marketing name and accompanying upscale junk mail, the construction site changing the visual and auditory nature of the neighborhood, the growing unease of the current residents. I felt like I was reading about Ballard, Capitol Hill, Fremont. Like the recent mourning over the death of a certain block of E. Pike here in Seattle, 976 sq. ft. uses a single piece of development to underscore the psychological impact of gentrification. It’s a palpable feeling for those of us enduring the rental market in one of the few cities where the housing boom is still going strong, rather than creating foreclosed ghost towns.  It’s a great piece that’s timely, and interesting as a story in its own right.

Webcomic linkdumping because we can

Webcomics can be a real downer. The pace of putting up a comic on a regular schedule can make the most motivated and ambitious of cartoonists weep, and it usually shows in their work. That being said, there are definite exceptions and they give the format an excitement and originality. I have a couple favorites and it is my comic loving duty to spread the word.

Bellen! by Box Brown (M-W-F)

Yes, it’s a love story. And yes, it can be excessively saccharine. But riding the lows and highs of the strip mirrors the changes in a relationship and this makes it feel very geniune. The tears and pain are balanced with tenderness, which makes this a great read.

The Rack by Kevin Church and Benjamin Birdie (M-Tu-W-F)

You’ve heard of it. The marketing machine that is Kevin has made sure you have. And if you aren’t already, you should also be reading it. The Rack is a smart story with likable characters in a comic store that feels very much like the one you visit every Wednesday. Church and Birdie, who have previously worked on Boom! Studios webcomic Nitrogyclerin, have definitely hit their stride with this comic. And you may even find a kinship with the typecast characters. Lydia tickles my fancy, but probably because I would toss back a few drinks with her and talk shit about all the surrounding patrons and collectively swoon over Phonogram backissues - CAUSE THAT’S HOW WE ROLL.

SMILE (A Dental Drama) by Raina Telgemeier (W)

I love Raina. And if you don’t share the same sentiment you are cold, cruel, insensitive creature that barely deserves to breathe. She’s sweet and talented and smart and…dentally impaired? The diary format allows her to tell the tale of prepubescent woe brought on by braces and not feeling like the others. It has lost a bit of luster with consecutive weeks of guest strips, and with The Big News she will most likely leave this one to die a slow, painful death. It is too bad.

Girls with Slingshots by Danielle Corsetto (M-Tu-W-Th-F)

There is a little bit of everything for every reader: romance, sexuality, machismo, drunken louts, mid-twenties angst, and even a talking cactus. The art is good and the humor is better. It’s been nice watching this strip gain momentum, as Danielle has cast off the schlepping of wage earner status and has set up a PayPal donation bucket to assist her readership support the story they love.

Cat and Girl by Dorothy Gambrell (Tu-Th-F)

Everyone loves this webcomic. I’m not even sure why I feel compelled to list it here. It’s a given that everyone reads this, along with Diesel Sweeties and Penny Arcade, right? If not, shoot me an email and I will categorically interrogate you on how you could have survived this long in the world with your overwhelming lameness.

DAR: A Super Girly Top Secret Diary by Erika Moen (Tu)

Not only is she a super awesome Pacific Northwest cartoonist that we’ve been able to make paper stars with at Stumptown, but she’s also a fascinating artist. Her style is thick and lucid and beautiful. Plus she can write a story, which is more elusive than it should be.  I wish she would post more, but I’d take quality over quantity any day.

An open letter to a surprising hero

Dear Scott Pilgrim,

I remember what I was doing when I was 23. There are some parallels, despite our many differences: I too was drinking cheap beer, working some lame job, poorly flirting with cute boys, and trying to milk the last of my carefree days. That is about it, and this is where our stories diverge. I was regularly showering. I wasn’t mooching off a roommate, inadvertently stringing a hapless high school girl along, trying to date someone out of my league, or living my life as if it were a video game.

And thank goodness. When recounting your tale, I am aware by how much cooler you are than I was/am. I mean, afterall, you are noble in fighting your out-of-league girlfriend’s exes, playing much better bass to local crowds in a band, and surrounded by cute girls with fashionable haircuts. And you do this all while being charming enough for your roommate to pay your way. This is pretty damn cool.

And your coolness even elevates higher than the regard I held you in before. In your latest tale (Scott Pilgrim Gets It Together) I get to see some evolution. You got a job! You turned down advances from a former high school crush! You told the pitifull high school girl there was no chance while not crushing her to bits! You saved the day, all while fighting a half-ninja and keeping your cool despite her romantic adventures with your lady (that you weren’t even privy to witness)!

I’m happy to witness your growth, even if its tale was delayed because Amazon is run by fucktards and your scribe wasn’t directly mailing out to his rabid fanbase. All in all, good show Scott P. Let’s hope you pop back up on the radar soon.

Love (without the mush),

Serene

Chelo’s Burden

Remember that gigantic Love and Rockets project that I came up with? You know, the one where I go book by book and break down important points? I didn’t forget about it, but times were hectic with the holidays. Anyway, now I am back on track and ready to bring you the second installment.

CHELO’S BURDEN
Sopa de Gran Pena: Gilbert’s Palomar storyline develops, with the introduction of characters in the setting of this impoverished, complicated town colored by jealousy and insecurities and some of the strongest female characters in comics. Here we see death, pregnancy, sexuality, poverty, and love all rolled into one giant mess with Chelo’s burden being one of titanic proportions: how can one woman keep these people intact while preserving herself?

Love and Rockets: A film noir colored hero dream sequence courtesy of Penny Century and Jaime’s art. Beautiful, beautiful stuff.

Maggie vs. Manniak: Maggie has the heart of a super heroine - she wants to right the wrongs of the world, she’s adorably naive in her belief that things do change, she has the pride and courage to carry her through battle, and she even looks good in spandex. Here we are reminded that despite the human tragedy and sensitivity of our beloved Locas characters, this is still a comic. Thank goodness, cause it was starting to get heavy in here….

Music for Monsters III: Another sci-fi story by Gilberto nudges it’s way into the collection. Armed with a beautiful thin lined style, this smart adventure piece shows some of Los Bros Hernandez’s influences.

Hey Hopey: At long last, Hopey’s lesbianism is addressed, even if it is in a jested accusation from her brother. I’ll take what I can get. While I’m glad her sexual preference isn’t made into a huge political debate because it would detract from the universality of the dramas Jaime’s characters, I think it’s an important element to her character.

Untitled: Gilbert shows off a real talent for the short story comic in this book, with a strange but endearing one-page story featuring a very sad fellow being forced to do something he does not want to do.

100 Rooms: Arguably one of the most interesting exploration of Locas‘ characters taking place in the mansion of Penny Century’s boyfriend/lover/sinister power-hungry billionaire H.R. Costigan. Featuring a kidnapping, topless sunbathing, a costume ball, clashing of egos, and a mental breakdown, there is certainly something to entice all readers.

Twitch City: Showing more artisitic versatility than he is ever given credit for, Gilbert presents a futuristic society fraught with sinister characters, cruelty, and paranoia. Another great short story.

Toyo’s Request: Revisiting some characters from the Mechanics storyline, Rena Titañon fulfills a dying request. Ever the protector, she lets people presume what they need to while fighting off enemies in a way only a female wrestling champion could.

Locas Tambien: Functioning as a quick check-in with Hopey and Maggie, we find that there is a food and work shortage that is compounded by love confusion and ambiguity. You know, the usual.

Somewhere in California: Mario’s contribution is a wonderfully drawn story of a pornographer, terrorists, and kidnapping. How I feel about this story summarizes how I feel about Mario’s work in general: all kinds of good stuff wrapped up in a questionably constructed way. Maybe Mario is over my head, but it’s frustrating to not understand where the story is going until the end, then having to go and re-read it so you can enjoy the story.

Out O’ Space: Rocky and Fumble play stick-the-flag-in-the-unclaimed-planet until a menacing, lonely rock beast stops them. Wonderfully drawn with a “cute” sensibility makes this a nice conclusion to this book.

Back in the Loop

Unemployment is actually sort of good for some things, but one thing it definitely is not good for is keeping up a comic collecting habit. I’ve found myself on the receiving end of the downsizing stick recently, and have had to rein in my buying habits of late. Not having any disposable income really makes you think twice about what you absolutely need to pick up. And besides, it’s not like I don’t have a stack of unread stuff sitting here still.

This week’s new installment of Love and Rockets was certainly a solid investment, mostly due to Jaime’s contribution. His story this issue focuses on Ray and Vivian, two characters who don’t seem to know what they want out of each other, yet find themselves practically attached at the hip. There’s a scene early on, while Ray accompanies Vivian and her friend on some auditions, where Jaime’s skill at depicting body language is at its understated best, with a lineup of hopeful ingenues revealing their attitudes with nothing but posture. He lets their attitudes shift and change, telling a separate little story behind Ray’s introspective musings. There are so many great light comedic moments in this story, that the harrowing end to the installment hits a little harder through contrast. The quiet epilogue sheds a little more light on both of these characters, especially Vivian, who we get to see in sort of a new light. Quality from beginning to end, and yet another in the long list of reasons why he’s a master of his craft.

I don’t know if I’d put it on the same masterful level, but Nextwave: Agents of Hate has established its own high standard to live up to each month. It takes a true fuck-it-all attitude to take a concept that’s already been run into the ground, and just keep pushing it until it breaks and splinters and becomes a parody of a parody, before taking on a life of its own and one-upping the original targets of its satire. I’m about as surprised as I could possibly be that Marvel is publishing one of my favorite regular series at the moment. The only thing that even comes close to this book is the late X-Statix, and possibly its recent spin-off, Dead Girl. They all share an irreverence in tone, but also, and more importantly, the understanding that satire is not an excuse to forget about actual drama. You can be as post-modern, self-referential and gimmicky as you want, but if you don’t ultimately take your story seriously on its own terms, you’ll probably fail. Nextwave succeeds not by undermining the tropes of superhero adventure, but by reveling in them shamelessly and unapologetically, with full awareness of their absurdity. It doesn’t try to dress itself up as relevant, redeeming, or realistic, and there’s something refreshing about that.

It’s the end of the year, and lots of people are making lists to mark the occasion. We probably won’t. But we may post some sort of wrap-up overview thing, in an informal, unranked, off-the-cuff sort of way. You have been warned.

Music for Mechanics

A LONG-WINDED BUT IMPORTANT INTRODUCTION
We all know how important Love and Rockets has been to the medium. As a relatively young comic reader, it’s the body of work that has been the most consistently revered during my lifetime. Ranging from literary to masturbatory, each of us have our own personal reasons for loving the creations of Los Bros Hernandez. As a Mexican-American female, my bias is obvious: strong female characters, smashing Chicano stereotypes, stunning artwork, and impressive writing. In short, these were my comics. I was proud and touched and empowered and inspired from the first reading. I immediately went and procured the gigantic, muscle-building collections Palomar and Locas. But I felt like I was missing something. So I’m going back and reading the individual collected books. If I had a resource that would’ve broken down each volume into bite-sized morsels, I may have read these first, rather than jump feet first into the giant collected versions. So my project is a chronicling of what I feel is important in each book, some pivotal panels, and a quick rundown of what may have been omitted in the collected version.

MUSIC FOR MECHANICS
Mechanics: aka Mechan-x, Mechanicos. What is most important in this story is the maturation of Maggie from a star-struck mechanic assistant of Rand Race’s to a traveled, tough woman who survives a near-death illness, family drama, political upheaval, homesickness, and romantic frustration. Maggie becomes one of the fiercest females in the Hernandez Bros universe: she’s hot-headed, she’s insecure, she’s lustful, she’s vulnerable, she is impulsive, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone.

Locas: Here we see more of the ever-dynamic and complicated relationship between Hopey and Maggie, as well as how pivotal Izzy is to their friendship. Paramour undertones aside, Hopey and Maggie have the most realistic, adult relationships in comics: they fight, they love, they protect, they doubt, and they change.
How to Kill a: In my opinion, this is one of the most beautiful stories Jaime has drawn. The story, credited to Isabel Ruebens, is a glimpse into the strange and dark world that she inhabits. It’s insular, it’s weird, and it’s destructive. We learn later why.

BEM: A sci-fi story Gilbert abandons after this collection. An important character we are introduced to is the larger-than-life Luba. She is that character that you cannot keep your eyes off of: she possesses a natural ability to lead and direct, she’s brave to the point of danger, and she sacrifices many things to be held in high regard. She will later become a central character in Palomar.

Barrio Huerta: A single paged introduction to Hoppers (aka Huerta), where Locas takes place.
Penny Century, You’re Fired: The quintessential fantasy woman comes to life and reveals more about herself than her perfect figure: insecurities, stubbornness, insatiable desire for adventure.
Radio Zero, Music for Monsters, and
Somewhere in California: A few collaborative sci-fi stories between Mario and Gilbert (though Somewhere… is mostly a Mario piece). I don’t think any of these stories are particularly notable, except for Mario’s involvement. Maybe that makes me a jerk.
A Little Story: The first glimpse of Palomar and the introduction of Pipo. As a child, Pipo is unaware of how strange it is for the traditional town of Palomar to see a little girl to play rough, not care what others think, and throw caution to the wind. In her innocence Pipo is not aware of how her defiance of gender constraints as a child will change the landscape of Palomar forever.

Monster Parade

I ran across this book at the Fantagraphics table back at Stumptown in October. I’d never seen it or heard about it before, but creator Ben Catmull happened to be there signing at the time. The little image here doesn’t really do justice to the cover, which is a subtly textured combination of various paints and ink linework. It’s intricate and moody, and sets the stage perfectly for the contents.

Monster Parade is an odd, non-linear collection of stories that flow into and out of one another, their only connection being that they feature strange creatues of some sort. The first section, “Winter Storm,” brings a series of giants and gargantuan beasts that personify the titular weather as the artwork gradually darkens, becoming more rich and ominous. The black and white brushwork and washes abruptly segue into warm burgundy tones for the tale “Monster Express,” a shift in color that mimics the sudden shift in narrative style. In this story, we find one Professor Williams sequestered to a train compartment with a fellow traveler, whose conversational topics and personal habits grow increasingly disagreeable during the journey. He’d leave is unpleasant companion if he could, of course, were it not for the monster loose on the train…

This lighthearted episode is followed by a return engagement of “Winter Storm,” featuring a new batch of storm creatures, brought forth by the rain and dark clouds, clouds which match the smoke rising above the setting of the final story. “Civilization Studies Illustrated: An Overview of the Industrial Civilization of [unpronounceable]” reads like the Lonely Planet guide to a city dreamt up by Dr. Seuss and Edward Gorey. A handy list of sea creatures, both edible and inedible, tourist attractions including “haunted cellars where no living person should tread,” and an extended detour into the history of a war between Louse Land and Mite Ville, on the underside of a local dock.

There’s a whimsical yet morbid feel to this collection, an imaginative surrealist spirit. Apart from “Monster Express,” there’s really no narrative to speak of, just a series of images and ideas that are as inventive and charming as they are sombre and eerie. Catmull’s illustrative style is clear, despite purposefully murky tones. Even with his relatively simple figures and cartoonish faces, he manages to convey a dark sensibility.

Project: Romantic

The way I think about comic anthologies is the way that Freaks and Geeks character Daniel Desario explained being pigeon-holded into the ‘dumb’ category as a kid: you’ve got the A group (the smart kids), the B group (the normal kids), and the C group (the dumb kids). As I read anthologies, I subconsciously put each story I read into one of those categories: awesome, okay, and bleh.

The only anthologies I haven’t done this with are Project: Superior and Project: Telstar. Either Chris Pitzer is the super-god when it comes to editing and directing an anthology or Adhouse has some special goggles that it uses to filter out the mediocre, boring cartoonists.

That being said, I wasn’t sold on the idea of an anthology dedicated to “love and love stuff.” Call me a cynic, but the sacchrine sweet nature of pulp romance stories has turned me off of the romance genre in general and, to be honest, it makes my blood run cold. But I figured that some of my favorite cartoonists, including Hope Larson, Kaz Strzepek, Aaron Renier, Liz Prince, and Randall Christopher, wouldn’t butcher the subject as I fearfully imagined.

Thankfully I was right.

Kaz’s story about randy, love-struck boys wanting some action from sewer girls was well drawn and fun to read. Hope Larson’s “When I was a Slut” was beautifully drawn and colored and the story dialogue device of an instant message conversation was a nice departure from the norm. Liz Prince’s story of a love lost was touching and genuine - two of her strong suits.

The most exciting story for me to read was Maris Wicks’ twist on a “choose your own adventure” story, using simple art and reader interaction to develop the outcome. The clean lines and lack of background action really focused the attention of the reader to the story they can construct. It was a unique twist on something familiar, which should be applauded.

My favorite panel in the book came from Evan Larson. The story is of Cupid going on a vacation and leaving his gear in the hands of an assistant. Pained by the all the hate and sadness in the world, she began to shoot everyone who was in distress. The story was good, but the art was better. His art is exciting to look at and it helps move the action along. And really, who can resist Batman having relations with a roll of toilet paper?

All in all, Project: Romantic is fantastic anthology to close out Adhouse’s trilogy, which will most likely be lauded in the future as the best anthology works around.

*apologies to all artists for defacing your beautiful work with the shitty scans

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