Excitement mounts when new issues come out, but I must admit I’m definitely partial to the second one. Peep the cover Nate Beaty did:

>sigh<

Goddamn if that is not the most beautiful thing ever. Follow the link to fawn over more sketches and exceptional photography as well.

And this completes your daily dosage of fangirling.

While I mentally compile and organize my unread books (starting with The Hot Breath of War by fellow NorCal rad guy Trevor Alixopulos that has been staring at me since Stumptown),  I wanted to do a quick linkdump to direct you to some cool interweb things that have delighted me…

Etsy.com interviews Jessica Abel

Tatiana Gill and her adorable illustrations

BeaucoupKevin takes beautiful photos at MoCCA, which reminds me how much I suck for missing this event every year.

How to separate feminist and psuedo-feminist comic fans and maintain moral superiority

Hope Larson debuts Chiggers at MoCCA, which gets me like a sucker punch as I was able to fawn over her preview copy at Emerald City.

Did you know that the secret to Gurewitch’s success is a robot manufactured with the help of an engineer? This robot does all the hard work - coming up with the art style of the strip, the biting humor, and the beautiful lettering? Yeah, neither did I.

The dial below the slot is key to balancing the distinctive comedy/tragedy tone to his comics. The phone is what he picks up to relay three key ideas he wants in his comic (like pigs, chicken, sex). To illustrate the danger in mis-calibrating this balance, he set the tragedy dial to high and out popped Watchmen.

And finally, one last piece of advice from a brilliant cartoonist:

There you have it ladies and gentlemen - the tale of worldwide success, of how to become syndicated print darling, and how to piss off Hasbro (who sent a cease and desist letter because of the likeness of the cover to Candyland) .

Content to follow. After feet are rested.

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.

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.”

I can’t wait to go to my neighborhood station and see one of our favorite artists. If you are getting weepy with jealousy (as you should), ask nicely and I’ll take you on an Ellen Forney tour of my neighborhood. Unfortunately some of the spots here her art was featured are gone (R.I.P. The Globe), but fear not as there are many more haunts to visit.

A few things of note:

Tatiana Gill has a blog! We heart her, and look forward to reading her witticisms and peeking at lovely art. Her blog already has some gems, so go and take a look. As a bonus, she makes cool sculpted art that people should buy. Bug her about it.

Our annual trek to San Francisco to attend APE has been thwarted by evil schedule changes. The sizable and aching hole has been filled by two spectacular cons - Stumptown and Emerald City.

Why you should go to Stumptown:

• Pre-registration already sold out. This means no empty tables and sad faces.
• It’s not just indie faces this year; big names like Gail Simone and Pia Guerra will rubbing elbows with some of the greatest cartoonists in the industry.
• Don’t let the fabled rain dissuade you - Portland is lovely in the spring.
• We will be there. Duh.

Why you should go to Emerald City:

• As lovely as Portland is in April, it has nothing on Seattle in May.
• We hinted at our displeasure with the con last year in our wrap-ups. Someone obviously cared about our opinion, as this year there is a nice indie representation, including the recently announced Bryan Lee O’Malley and Hope Larson appearances.
• Jordan Crane exhibit at Fantagraphics
• We will be there. Duh. I might even buy you a beer at my favorite pub if you are nice to me.

Real reviews to follow soon. No, really.

Steve Gaynor, a video game level designer according to his masthead, posted this thoughtful piece recently about the relative cultural significance of video games. Why is that interesting to readers of a comics blog (assuming there are any left visiting this poor site)? Because he draws some pretty astute comparisons between the two mediums.

I went into this article a little skeptical, imagining the worst sort of mouth-breathing dismissal. Comics are for kids!!! Superheroes are the be-all, end-all of the medium!!!! I was pleasantly surprised to find a knowledgeable and sensitive look at the similarities, one that encompassed the boundary pushing and forward thinking work taking place in comics and video games, but not shying away from examining their failures to gain broad cultural relevance.

Do yourself a favor and read the article. Even if you disagree, there’s a lot of interest to be found there.

But look out. There’s a new challenger in town.

John Campbell (stereotypist on livejournal) is currently creating hourly comics, consisting of 2 panels drawn for every hour he is awake in the month of January.  He’s done this a few times in previous years, and the results are all available on the Hourly Comics website, sorted by day. The end result is similar to American Elf or Snakepit, but at a much more granular level. Like those daily comics, some installments feature almost no notable action, while others veer into the unexpected and absurd. You develop a sense of intimacy, despite the relatively crude drawing style. Like XKCD, the subject matter transcends any limitations the art might create.

If you enjoy the hourly comics, you’ll probably also enjoy his 50 Answers project, absurdist comic strips drawn as responses to reader-submitted questions. There’s plenty of other material on his Livejournal page to indulge in as well.