The Other Side of the Kirby Conundrum

Okay, so I eventually did make it out to see The Avengers, despite the misgivings I expressed in this post here. As if anyone REALLY though I was going to completely boycott the most anticipated super-hero move of the past ten years. Apparently, the only person I managed to fool was me. Go figure.

(I'll get the review out of the way quick: The movie was good. There's no reason for the Hulk to be as enjoyable as he was, but that actually happened. I like my entertainment to be a little more thought-provoking, but I still liked all the punching. Also, Thanos is cool.)

My main hang-up with The Avengers (and superhero comics in general) is how the corporations that own the trademarks treat the men and women who CREATE the characters that build their companies. I specifically cited Marvel's treatment of Jack Kirby, but, really, it's been DC comics who have been the worst offenders - at least, if Alan Moore is to be believed.

The tricky part, though, is that DC comics owns one of my favorite characters, Batman. And I love Batman. His original creators told some fun stories about Batman, but, for me, the best Batman stories have come about in the last fifteen to twenty years - between Batman: The Animated Series, The Dark Knight, and Grant Morrison's recent run in the comics, there's been a lot of good Batman stuff to love.

And it's not like Mr. Kirby never intended anyone else to write his characters. The work he produced for Marvel was work-for-hire, so I imagine he MUST have known his work would be used by other writers. And, every now and then, those writers do a pretty bang-up job.

So, on the one hand, we've got creators who are treated unfairly with regards to the creations they worked so hard on. On the other hand, we've got the creators who are paid now to continue to tell stories with those characters. Sometimes, the stories are awesome. Othertimes, you get Halle Berry's Catwoman. Both groups of people are artists, and both deserve support. After all, we don't penalize the actor who plays Hamlet, even though he didn't invent the character.

Still, I get the sense that even other creators understand that there's a problem. To go back to The Avengers, Joss Whedon (Firefly is still overrated) directed a near-perfect superhero film. However, he's gone on-record to say that he may not be involved in Avengers 2, as it's "an enormous amount of work telling what is ultimately somebody else’s story, even though I feel like I did get to put myself into it."

It's that last part I think that's key - we should support work (be it comic-booky or other-wooky) where the artist has something to say with the material. As long as people can continue to bring something new to the table, I have very little problem with a creator playing with someone else's toys.

But I still reserve the right to complain about the ridiculous number of remakes/reboots/sequels every year.

The Kirby Conundrum, or, Why I've Been So Slow to See The Avengers

The Avengers is probably the biggest movie of the year. As most of you know, I'm a bit of a superhero nut, so it'd only be natural to assume that I've already seen the movie three or four times, right?

Well, that's not the case. Not only have I been super busy with plays and other things (only three performances left for Blithe Spirith, by the way!), but I've also had a bit of an emotional reluctance to go see the movie.

You think it'd be a no-brainer. Iron Man was the best superhero movie for about a month before The Dark Knight completely blew it out of the water. Captain America was the best Joe Johnson movie that wasn't The Rocketeer (which probably sounds like damning with faint praise, but I love both of those movies, so there). Heck, even Thor was pretty much okay. Put 'em all together under Joss Whedon's direction, and you've got a surefire hit for nerds of all creeds, right?

I'm still on the fence about seeing The Avengers, and it's not because I think Joss Whedon's overrated (I'm looking at you, Firefly). Rather, it has everything to do with this guy:

Those eyebrows have a name, and that name is Kirby. Jack Kirby worked for Marvel comics throughout the 1960s and 1970s, creating or co-creating most of the characters affiliated with The Avengers. Heck, Kirby's name is so synonymous with some of his creations that typing "Jack Kirby" into Google's image search brings up an issue of Captain America as the first result.

And what a good image that is.

Now, comic book companies are pretty notorious for their unfair treatment of their creators. Most comic book characters created as "work for hire," so the creators have little or no claim on the intellectual property of the characters they create. Finding out, then, that Jack Kirby was treated poorly by Marvel Comics was no great surprise, but the company seems to have gone above and beyond in his case.

You can find out more details here (where you will also notice that DC Comics, owners of Batman and Superman, don't treat their employees any better), but the basic gist is that Marvel forced Kirby to sign increasingly unfair contracts before they would return his original artwork to him, artwork they had no right to keep in the first place. They continue to make money off Kirby's name and creations but refuse to give his estate any sort of compensation.

It's an issue I'm legitimately torn on. On the one hand, Marvel has every legal right to keep the proceeds from Kirby's creations. The courts ruled in the industry's favor. They do nothing illegal. Additionally, I'm not 100% convinced that the Kirby estate is entitled to any sort of compensation, although that's an issue I know next to nothing about. On the other hand, though, just because the courts opted to uphold the contracts Kirby signed doesn't make those contracts any more ethical.

I enjoy reading about these corporate-owned characters, especially when great talent is brought in to further expand on a character's motivations and origins. Kirby may have had Captain America punch out Hitler, but it was writer Steve Englehart who pitted the Captain against a supervillain equivalent of Richard Nixon during the Watergate scandal. When a writer does his or her job with a character, they make the character relevant for a whole new generation of readers.

I would hate for there to never be another Captain America story, especially when there are almost infinite stories that could be told. However, at no time should the well-being of a fictional character be placed before that of a living person. The lack of respect Marvel showed to its #1 creator, and continues to show him, gives me pause.

I haven't yet decided whether I will see The Avengers or not. I'm actually considering a complete boycott of both major comics publishing houses. Whatever I decide, I can guarantee both Marvel and DC comics will be seeing a lot less of my money.

Not that there's all that much of it to see, but you get my point.

Blog Comments Make Me a Better Man

The usual metrics for popularity don't seem to apply online. In real life, popularity is simply measured by the number of friends you have. Online, sheer volume of friends actually makes no difference, seeing as how most people who "friend" you on Facebook probably wouldn't recognize you if you ran into them in the mall while wearing a T-shirt with your high school yearbook photo on it. No, the REAL measure of online popularity is the number of comments or posts you're able to accrue.

I just got a little more popular on my blog last night. I picked up two new comments, and that makes me the queen of this particular Homecoming parade. I thought I'd share the comments with you.

The first comes from an anonymous commenter on my review of the book Bossypants. The comment came in response to my statement below:

As a young man, a single adult who comes from a family of all boys and has no experience with women outside of watching a few episodes of Jem, I got a kick out of reading that. It matches how I feel about thing - I'm not actually sexist, I'm just ignorant. While that's not exactly an ideal state of being, at least ignorance is treatable.

Here's what my sweet little Anonymous commenter had to say:

Actually...you are just sexist. But how adorable that you think you aren't because you are completely stupid about the opposite sex.

Well, yeah... Anonymous is probably right. I've got a long and well-documented history of being sexist, so I might as well just cop to it. Thanks, Anonymous! I appreciate your candor and honesty.

ADD: So my friend Heather, who's been posting some very insightful thoughts of feminism on her own, has commented on my post here (you can read her response below). I just want to say that I appreciate her opinion and am very glad she chose to express herself to me. If my comments have offended anyone, I do apologize.

The anonymous poster was a bit of a jerk, yeah, but that doesn't mean they were WRONG. I fully admit that I have some backwards attitudes and can say some pretty thoughtless things at times. I appreciate getting called out on stuff. Just, you know, be nice about it.

Okay, all passive-aggressive sarcasm aside, I did get a pretty nifty comment from someone who'd never commented on my blog before. This comment comes from my snarky little post on the Fantagraphics Mickey Mouse comic reprints:

Glad we're converting you to the real Mickey Mouse, S. R. Thanks to some more piecemeal late '70s reprints, Gottfredson's Mickey is the Mickey I cut my teeth on as a kid. It's a labor of love to keep him circulating. While I could never call him a scoundrel (I only count three cartoons where he pushes Minnie too far—and this never happens in the comics), he's quite the adventurous and defiant little squirt, isn't he? Collecting the supplementary material that goes in the books is an adventure itself! (Hope you're following our Facebook page... that's where we put the overflow.) Re: sad racial stuff: Disney Publishing allows us to run the strips unabridged because we're aiming the books at adults, and have extensive text putting that content in context. Luckily, most of what's left is timeless—and that's just how I like it. —David Gerstein (Series Editor)

I'm a little flattered that the guy putting these books together actually took the time to post such an enthusiastic response to what was mainly just a big sarcastic rant. This guy is totally classy.

One thing I forgot to mention in my original post on the Gottfredson comics (probably because I was more interested in posting a pic of Mickey Mouse in blackface than I was at giving a balanced review) is that the books are full of insightful commentary on the period in which the comics were written. I probably love the commentary about as much as the comics themselves - things always make more sense in context. So thanks to Mr. Gerstein for doing such an excellent job on this wonderful collection.

Braddy Reads Set to Sea

Oh, man!  It's been National Poetry Month ALL MONTH and I haven't done anything to commemorate it.

...Wait, it's still April?  Okay, good, then I've got time to do some poetry appreciation.

So I'ma review a comic book, mmmkay?

Drew Weing's Set to Sea is a book I've encountered before.  Earlier this month, I found the book in a catalogue and decided to pick it up again.  And... well... it's really good.

No, like, REALLY good.

Set to Sea is the story of a poet who has fallen on hard financial times... probably because he's a poet.  He's got no money, he's got no credit, and he's... well, kind of a bum.  He's busy working on his next poetry a book full of nautical themed poems, but the writing's not getting him anywhere.  Then he gets pressganged.

The central theme of the book seems to be about how important it is for a poet/writer to experience life.  Ironically, the poet is only successful at writing poetry when he no longer NEEDS the income from poetry.  On the surface, the theme seems an obvious one:  OF COURSE the poet can't write a good poem about the sea until he actually goes out on the ocean.  That just makes sense!

The truth is, though, that's the type of message that most writers/artists need to hear.  Writing, even when it becomes an occupation, can't be the central aspect of a person's life.  If it does, then what else will they write about?

Set to Sea may very well be on my list of best comics of all time now.  It's a quick read - about ten or fifteen minutes - and it's beautifully illustrated.  Also, Set to Sea is a thought provoking and surprisingly serene book (except for one pretty violent sequence in the middle when our poet's ship gets attacked by pirates).  Well worth the read.

The Secret History of Mickey Mouse

You know, I've never really liked this mouse.

As recognizable as Disney's #1 guy has gotten, Mickey's always struck me as a particularly bland character.  He has almost no defining characteristics of his own beyond those little white-buttoned shorts he always wears.  If I were asked to try to describe his personality, I'd probably come up with a description that falls somewhere between Star Wars' Padme Amidala and a saltine cracker.

Then I checked out this bad boy:

Fantagraphics has been publishing collections of the original Mickey Mouse comic strips that ran in newspapers starting back in the 1930s, around the same time as the earliest Mickey Mouse animated films.  Whereas the films of the day were based mostly on the silly physical gags the characters could pull off, the daily comic strip by Floyd Gottfredson followed more of an adventure strip format, much in the style of Prince Valiant (I assume - I actually don't know anyone who's EVER read Prince Valiant).

I was surprised to discover a Mickey Mouse I had never known existed.  This Mickey was young, impulsive, and adventurous.  Here is a Mickey who isn't afraid to make mistakes.  A Mickey who is capable of throwing a punch, if needed:

 

A Mickey who, um, repeatedly attempts suicide:

A Mickey who is willing to put on blackface and... wait, what?

Clearly, this is NOT your father's Mickey Mouse.  Or your grandfather's.  It's more like your racist great-uncle's Mickey Mouse.

Thing is, unfortunate outdated prejudices aside, I think I like this Mickey much better than the one we've got now. Everything about him - from those goofy pie-eyes to his youthful arrogance - makes him so much more than a bland cardboard mascot. Mickey rose to be the mascot of the world's largest animation studio BECAUSE of his personality, and Gottfredson's comic puts that personality on display.

But, seriously, Disney will publish Blackface Uncle Tom Mickey but not Song of the South? How does THAT make any sense?

Most of the comic images actually come from volume 2 of the Gottfredson collection, Trapped on Treasure Island.  It's a REALLY good read.

Braddy Reads Anya's Ghost

I'd seen this book on a lot of shelves recently, and something about it always caught my interest. Not enough to actually READ it for several months, but I kept going back to it, until, finally, I put it on hold at the library and had it shipped up to me.

Turns out I've actually read some of Anya's Ghost author Vera Brosgol's other comics work in the Flight anthology of comics. She put out a couple of good pieces there (including this one), but I really didn't remember much about her until I read her bio at the end of Anya's Ghost and looked her up again. I love it when that happens.

Anyways, Anya's Ghost tells the story of a high school girl, the daughter of a Russian immigrant, who stumbles across the skeleton of a long-dead girl and suddenly finds herself haunted.

The art style is pretty reminiscent of the Scott Pilgrim - it shares both the large, cartoony shapes and slightly-hipster wannabe tone. That, by the way, is a good thing - the comic pages are easy to look at, easy to read, and expressive without being showy.

The real focus of the story is Anya herself - her insecurities about her family background, her desires to fit in at school, and her body issues. Anya's a great character - one of the most believable teenage girls I've read in a long time. Her story is one I felt was worth reading mainly because it felt so NORMAL.

Except, you know, for the whole ghost thing.

Anyway, it's a quick read (about an hour or so) and a great YA book, in the same vein as American Born Chinese, another great book which, sadly, I've not yet mentioned on my blog. Well worth checking out.

What's the Matter with Kids? Not Too Much.

Here I sit - twenty-ex years old, an aspiring storyteller with a four-year degree in writing to my credit, and working on the second draft of a novel I actually hope to publish someday in the near future - and I'm starting to realize that the best stories I have ever read were cranked out by people with no formal training or "legitimate" experience.

Makes the thousands of dollars I spent on my Bachelor's feel like a waste of money.

I read a lot of comics - everything from superhero works to some more historical material. A lot of it's just for fun, although sometimes I come across something genuinely thought-provoking. It's great when I find something that can be both. Amazingly enough, three of the best comics I've read all year were written by children.

No joke. I seriously love these comics. First up we have a comic I've linked to before: 7-year-old Katie Mignola's "The Magician and the Snake" (drawn by her father, Mike Mignola).


There's not a lot of context here, but the basic story of two friends soon to be separated by death is told with a sincerity most writers have to work REALLY HARD to fake.

Also submitted for your consideration is "Kistapher Cumulus," a story told by the eleven-year-old sister of my friend, Dashbo.



That's a cloud whose job it is to sink boats on the ocean. TELL me that doesn't sound like a Pixar short right there.

The third example is, sadly, not one I have a visible example of - my cousin's son drew a comic adapted from an episode of Spongebob Squarepants, replacing the characters Spongebob and Patrick with Calvin and Hobbes - an alteration I have no problem with. Now, even though the jokes and dialog are ripped almost word-for-word from the episode (or so I hear - I haven't watched the show), I have to tell you that the kid's PACING is brilliant. It's hard to break down fluid actions between static panels, as you have to do in a comic, and my cousin's kid (can I just call him my cousin?) does it in such a way that I was totally drawn in to the story.

Okay, so lesson time. While one COULD see these stories as proof that talent matters more than anything else - an "either you've got it or you don't" philosophy, I think that the important thing to note is what these children do that makes their stories work.

1. They actually draw a complete story. Just because the art isn't as detailed as *cough* grown up art doesn't detract from the significance that these kids took time from their busy day of school, homework, and whatever else kids do these days (Pokemon?) to work on something they loved.
2. All three kids have familial support. Katie Mignola got her dad to help with the artwork. "Kistapher's" author got her work posted online by her brother. My cousin's parents passed his book around at a family party. Creative types need support from their loved ones, and that encouragement leads to great things. Have you hugged an artist today?
3. There's definitely something to be said for a child's ability to let their imaginations run amok. The simplicity of the emotions on display - not dolled up or couched in hours of exposition - make them a lot more intense and effective than they would be otherwise.

Sorry, CSNY. Maybe the kids should be teaching US.

Wish I Said It First #15

#15

"By the same token, sexy is not exploitative, and exploitation is dishonest. Reverse that chain and you can see that, whoever you are writing, if you are honest about them, fair to them, and allow them their moments of brilliance, you can create that sexiness without it becoming pandering. Sexy is not a visual trait - that's titillation. Cheesecake, beefcake, those are entirely visual matters. What makes someone sexy - what makes anyone sexy, in my opinion - is less how they look than how they do. Competence is sexy. Capability is sexy. Confidence is sexy. Smart is sexy. A character who clearly embodies these traits in some capacity or another is a character who is going to be attractive."

-Greg Rucka, in an interview with Comic Vine

Since I've been bugged so much by the portrayal of women in comics, reading this quote from one of superhero comicdom's top writers really helped.

Power Panels 5

I didn't grow up reading superhero comics; I learned my love of the medium from the Sunday funnies. I grew up reading The Far Side, Bloom County, Peanuts, and, of course, Calvin and Hobbes. I often read within these cartoons the characters complaining about the shrinking space in the newspaper comics page. In fact, Bill Watterson's rebellions against the restraints put on the comics format are part of the reason I admire the man so much. Still, growing up in that age where newspaper comics had already been diminished so much, I don't think I realized what I was missing.

Then, a couple of months ago, I discovered Winsor McCay's Little Nemo in Slumberland.


I'd actually heard of the character as a kid - there was a video game made to correspond with an animated flick I don't think I ever saw, so I knew that something LIKE this existed. Eventually, I learned that Little Nemo was a comic strip from the early twentieth century. Beyond that, though, I never thought to look in to the character much.

I've since read several cartoonists who cite Winsor McCay's work as an inspiration. Eventually, I decided to check a book of the comics out from the library. I feel confident in saying that there's nothing else quite like Winsor McCay that sees print today.

McCay was given a lot of space to tell a brief story, and he USED that space incredibly effectively. He painted larger-than-life pictures of strange landscapes and peculiar creatures, the likes of which are only encountered in dreams. The lettering is less than perfect, sometimes bordering on the illegible, but, in the end, I never really cared what any of the characters were saying. I only wanted to see what dreams Little Nemo had, and I was seldom disappointed.


I've read similar attempts at using broadsheet-sized pages in contemporary comic storytelling (like in DC Comics' recent attempt - which WAS actually pretty good), but none of them come close to using that much space quite as masterfully as Winsor McCay did. Little Nemo is at its most awe-inspiring when its main characters are exploring peculiar dreamscapes. As you can see in the comic above, the panels in the comic aren't simply laid out from left to right, but they fold and warp around the central fantastical image, creating a kind of warped, surreal world.

It makes me wonder what we miss out on in today's comic environment with only tiny, six-panel Sunday strips to look forward to each week.

Comics Aren't Just For Kids Anymore

...although I'm starting to wish that they WERE.

There's been a lot of talk in the comic-book world recently about DC's relaunch, which was meant to draw in new readers to the world of superhero comics. While some of the books have received good reviews, most of the discussion has been on the new DC Comics' treatment of women. Almost everything I've heard about the relaunch has focused on the overt sexuality of the women depicted. Some critics have praised this move as a bold spin on the sexual politics of James Bond, while others decry it as almost pornographic pandering to the predominantly male comics-reading demographic.

Above: Could it be both?

My knee-jerk reaction which I have to clarify by saying that I haven't READ any of these comics - is to side with the latter camp. I've long since abandoned most of the embarassment I felt over reading superhero comics as a mature-ish adult; however, it's difficult for me to forget that a lot of that embarassment springs from the depiction of women IN comics.

For example, I've cited Marvel comics's Civil War miniseries as THE story that got me reading superhero comics again in my twenties. Civil War pitted the superheroes against each other after the Superhero Registration Act required costumed crimefighters to register with the government or face jail time. At the time I read it, I found the story to be an emotionally compelling and timely portrayal of the issues surrounding the Bush administration's war on terror.

(Since that time, I've found Civil War to be more than a little silly, since vigilantism is ALREADY illegal, but whatever.)

There's a particular panel in one of the very first issues that shows Tony Stark (AKA Robert Downey, Jr.) encouraging other heroes to register, as it's the "right thing to do" and "will help restore the public's trust in superheroes." Of course, the artist gives us the most appropriate visual presentation of Stark's impassioned appeal by situating the "camera" right behind She-Hulk's curvy spandexed posterior.

This is dramatically necessary to the plot.

An otherwise relevant (if a bit ham-fisted) message about the conflict between liberty and security is almost completely overshadowed by superheroine badonkadonk, and that's just... well, it misses the point. Sex (and violence) are often treated as mature subject matter, but when the sex and violence are needlessly wedged into a plot, the end result contains about as much maturity as a conversation between Beavis and Butthead.

I don't want to get all "Think of the children!" here, but, really, THAT'S where superhero comics get their fans. I started reading comics pretty much just in the newspaper; however, I watched X-Men and Batman: The Animated Series almost religiously. I started reading the actual comics at a much later age, but mainly to recapture some of the fun and magic of watching Wolverine, The Joker, and all the rest on the TV. Eventually, superhero comics led me to more sophisticated works, and I'm pretty happy with what I've discovered.


Next year, kids'll plop down in front of the TV to watch a new Batman cartoon. From the limited preview information available, they'll be able to see Batman go up against the nefarious Professor Pyg... who is probably most famous for giving Robin a lap-dance in his first appearance. Whether or not it makes for a good story, it's probably NOT appropriate reading material for a kid.

No lie, though - I LOVE this guy!

I have to say that it IS pretty funny that Batman's so heavily marketed towards children: "What do we do with a psychologically tormented man who saw his parents murdered in front of him and spends his time hunting down depraved, violent criminals? Slap his face on a lunchbox!" Seriously, that's like making a Dexter onesie for toddlers.

I love comics as a MEDIUM - I've often said the comic panel enables a uniquely creative approach to storytelling other media don't allow. In order for that medium to grow, it has to have a continually growing fan base - and, whether you think comics IN GENERAL are for kids or not, it's pretty apparent that SUPERHEROES appeal mainly to children. And me.

In my mind, there's no question that superheroes can be used to tell compelling stories for adults - despite what my mom says. Unfortunately, in the world of comics, at least, it seems like they're not doing as good a job hooking children as they could be. And, yeah, even though there are plenty of other good book choices for kids, that makes me a little sad.

Besides, those all-ages kiddie comics are STILL the ones that best suit my uptight Mormon sensibilities, so I would want to read them, too.

Braddy Reads a Trifecta of Kiddie Comics

Although they're often perceived as a kid's medium, comics aren't always suitable for all ages (just look at the recent DC superhero redesigns and you'll see what I mean). Of course, there are still plenty of comics geared specifically towards children. I picked up a few last week (kinda coincidentally) and read them through, and was pretty surprised with what I found.


First up we've got Jason Shiga's Meanwhile, a cross between a comic book and a Choose Your Own Adventure novel. Readers pick between branching paths which start with an innocent trip to the ice cream shop and end with... um... most likely... world annihilation.

It's a bizarre trip.

Comic panels which normally read from right to left are instead connected by a tiny tube (which you can see on the cover), sometimes leading to a completely different page. Panels are nestled within other panels that you're NOT SUPPOSED TO READ YET SHHH!, making for one of the densest, most confusing reading experiences I've ever had - and I've read "The Waste Land" TWICE.

That said, the story itself actually prompts a lot of thought about fate and free will (more than I'd expect from a so-called "children's book"). There's a lot to chew on, but not so much that the book really merits a re-read. Definitely worth experiencing at least once, though.


Next up, we've got Jill Thompson's Scary Godmother, a book I've wanted to read for a while. And, you know... it's all right.

The hardcover linked above contains five different Scary Godmother stories, some of which are DEFINITELY stronger than others. The debut effort is a solid kid's story, and the sequel (a twisted take on How the Grinch Stole Christmas) is even better.

It's when Thompson veers off the beaten path of the traditional kid's stories that her work's the strongest. By far my favorite story of the bunch was "The Mystery Date," in which an innocent note leads two young children off in search of the Scary Godmother's secret admirer, only to find that the entire population of creepy creatures has the hots for her.

I don't know if I'd buy this collection for anything more than the artwork (which is fantastic, by the way). If I had kids, however, it'd be a no-brainer.


By far my favorite of the books I picked up (and the biggest surprise) is a little collection of Andy Runton's Owly, a book I'd only heard reference to once. I found it while browsing for Scary Godmother and figured, "What the heck. I'll pick it up."

I absolutely loved this little story.

Owly's a (seemingly flightless?) bird with a love for the world that the world... doesn't often reciprocate. He's a predator, so other animals tend not to trust him. Still, Owly's out there, putting out seeds for the other birds and helping a little lost worm find his way back home.

The stories are mostly wordless - the characters speak through pictures in word bubbles. Runton's art is... I've used the word "exploitative" to describe it, actually, which may be a bit too much. When Owly's attempts at kindness are rejected, he FREAKIN' CRIES, which is just cheap.

I read the second book in the series as well, which wasn't quite as solid (or maybe it just wasn't as fresh). Honestly - and this just may be the emotional sissy in me - I could probably find a place for this first volume on my bookshelf.

Braddy Takes On the DC Reboot

Yet another post on a subject nobody but me cares about...

DC Comics, the publishers of some of the longest running superhero magazines (including the first superhero, Superman, and my love Batman), plans to reboot their entire line of stories, taking everything back to #1 in September. That means new origins, new stories, and new costumes for their entire lineup. A lot of people are complaining that this completely gets rid of nearly 70 years of stories and worldbuilding, all for the sake of MAYBE attracting some new readers.

Personally, I don't think this is a big deal. See, stories are good regardless of whether they have 50 years of consistent storytelling behind them. Besides, thanks to the reboot, we're going to get that Frankenstein series that would have been such a good idea after the Seven Soldiers series five years ago.


Sorry, but I'm a sucker for a monster with a giant gun and an affinity for Milton.

That said, I'm not thrilled with everything that's going down. For example, they're making some pretty dramatic changes to the character Barbara Gordon, also known as Oracle:


Right now, Oracle's about the only high-profile disabled character in superhero comics. She's a positive role-model in a genre that typically treats women with something... less than respect.

Barbara Gordon was the original Batgirl, though, so walk again she must! Nevermind the fact that she's a full-grown woman now. Let's put her back in the purple suit!


Admittedly, that purple costume is one of the most iconic images in the history of Batman (even if it's iconic for a generation now preparing for retirement), so that return makes some sense.

But then we get to the character Harley Quinn, the Joker's henchgirl, and...


Okay, WHAT the heck?!

Look, I know the character's original look on the right there isn't ENTIRELY tasteful, but GEEZ! The updated Harley Quinn's just all about fanservice now. She may as well just be a stripper.

Now I KNOW that, just because a woman chooses to display some of her... ahem... attributes, that doesn't automatically make her a stripper. However, I strongly doubt that this new costume (designed by Jim Lee, co-publisher of DC Comics) was really meant to empower a woman ALREADY DRESSED UP IN A SKINTIGHT JUMPSUIT.

This is the type of thing that makes me embarrassed to admit I like superhero comics.

Even the non-sexually exploitative costumes look pretty silly. Here are the Teen Titans, a group of characters I don't really care about (except in one form):


Is there ANYONE who can tell me why Superboy has a piece of paper taped to his back?

These character designs look straight out of the 1990s - which shouldn't be surprising, considering that's when Jim Lee got to be so popular with his X-Men character designs (the ones you may recognize from the old X-Men cartoon). The trouble is, though, that the 90s were a pretty crappy time for comic books, with some severely misguided attempts at "extreme" storytelling and many design decisions springing from a desire to make their characters "look cool."


Above: 90s Comics

Getting (finally) to the point: I think the reboot's probably a good idea, from a storytelling perspective. Why not give writers the opportunity to build these characters from a fresh beginning? We could get some good new stories. But, seriously, did they HAVE to saddle so many characters with utterly baffling and unflattering looks?

In the end, I have to say that the DC Reboot isn't really going to change the way I buy comics. I tend to wait until the stories come out in trade paperback, anyway, rather than buying the single issues. I won't be branching out into Teen Titans or Batgirl or Harley Quinn and Her Amazing Wonder Corset, but I don't really buy those NOW, so DC's not really out any of my money.

I may have to check out that Frankenstein series, though.

Caveat Emptor... NERD

I haven't really been a fan of the X-Men comics since I was a kid (and, even then, I really only watched the television show). However, with all the hype surrounding the new X-Men movie, I decided to go out and pick up some comics to see if I could find something to catch my fancy.

I grabbed the storyline written by one of my favorite writers, Grant Morrison (who I love so much for basically filling his stories with pure creative insanity). So I read through the arc, and... well, I got basically what I wanted. The story was full of high-concept villains, perfect twists on the mundane, and Morrison's signature fragmented storytelling.

The story's so fragmented, actually, that I nearly didn't notice that there are 30 pages missing from the book.

Good thing I kept the receipt.

A Few Good Artists

There came a time not too long ago when I decided not to get all embarrassed about the fact that I'm a grown man with a deep and abiding love for something commonly considered to be a child's medium - the comic book. It's a decision I'm glad I've made. I came to comics for the capes, but I've stuck around for some real top-notch visual storytelling.

Recently, I've come to appreciate how much good art really sells and enhances the story (ironically, comic art is one of the reasons I've been embarassed about being a comics fan in the past - but that's a subject for another time). Pardon me, then, while I share a few of my favorite artists with you.


Skottie Young
Website: http://www.skottieyoung.com/
Noteworthy Book: The Wonderful Wizard of Oz


A lot of mainstream comics have recently been shooting for a photo-realistic quality to their artwork, which, you know, is kinda cool. However, I've found that, when I read comics, I want something a little more stylized. That's where Skottie Young delivers.

Most of his work comes with this scratchy, almost sketch-like linework around the edges. I've seen it in a couple of artists, and I've tried to emulate it myself at times. The finished product has a rough feel to it, but it's calculated and precise - rather than coming off sloppy, Young's artwork feels relaxed, like a cruise liner.

Plus, his character designs are just superb. Who WOULDN'T love that li'l Scarecrow guy?


Mike Mignola
Website: http://www.artofmikemignola.com/
Noteworthy Book: The Hellboy Series

I first stumbled across stories back in my prudish days, when I couldn't even SAY the word "hell" without blushing at the swears. Now that I've given the stories a fair shake, they've wound up surprising me quite a bit.

Mignola's artwork is subtly atmospheric - kind of a big surprise for a guy who writes about a demon from hell punching monsters in the face. He covers his characters in heavy black shadows to give everything that creepy, mysterious sensation. Mignola also enhances the sense of place in his works by occasionally slipping in extra panels showing details from the architecture around where the action's taking place.

The man's best known for Hellboy, but The Amazing Screw-On Head is also worth the read. Also, you should note that the man knows how to draw a mean monkey.


Jill Thompson
Website: http://jillthompson.blogspot.com/
Noteworthy Book: Beasts of Burden

Jill Thompson actually may be most famous for her work on The Sandman, but I'm probably the only comics reader who doesn't care for that series. Rather, I've highlighted her work on Beasts of Burden, an absolutely fantastic story about mystery-solving animals (think Bunnicula, except actually scary). I don't see much watercolor work in comics, but what I've seen is remarkably effective. I seriously don't know how else one would draw ghosts without them.

Like Mignola, Thompson creates some wonderfully atmospheric pieces, taking full advantage of the palette of colors available to her. When the mood darkens, so does the color. She also has a neat trick of swirling in words into the background on occasion - a trick I've always loved.

I've actually not yet checked out her other most famous work, Scary Godmother, but I'll be sure to do so soon.

Power Panels 4

I've made my love for Grant Morrison's superhero work pretty apparent, so it should come as no surprise that I absolutely love the artwork that goes along with his stories. While All Star Superman is a genius piece of fiction, at least half the work is done by powerhouse artist Frank Quitely.

There's a lot of story told in the few panels Quitely's given to draw, and, somehow, he manages to cram a lot of information into just two or three pictures. Take the below sequence, for example:


I completely missed this little moment when I first read All Star Superman. It's pretty simple what happens, actually: Clumsy Clark Kent notices some falling debris, so he "accidentally" trips into a passing man, slowing him up and saving his life. All the while, he's carrying on a conversation with Lois Lane as if nothing is happening. It's a pretty standard move for the Superman character - in fact, there's almost nothing special about this sequence (other than how well it's rendered, of course).

The reason this sequence appeals to me so much is that, for three brief panels, we almost see two separate stories unfolding:

1. The story of Clark and Lois and their conversation.
2. The story of the man walking his dog

So, really, these three panels form an "X," with two different narrative lines meeting up in the middle for one brief exchange, then each story again going off on its own. Of course, we DON'T follow the man any further down the street, because no matter WHO he is, he likely won't be doing anything more interesting than, say, punching a robot sun so hard it explodes with a giant mushroom cloud.


Theoretically, though, this sequence makes me realize that, in the comics format, it is entirely possible to tell two different (though connected) stories AT THE SAME TIME without NEARLY the hassle that the same task would demand in a movie or novel.

And that, to me, is just plain cool.

Things I'll Love Forever: Scott Pilgrim

Bryan Lee O'Malley's Scott Pilgrim series made quite a splash in the comic book community over the past couple of years. Personally, I can see why - while Scott Pilgrim's not my FAVORITE comic of all time, it hits a lot of the right notes with me.

1 - Believe it or not, the story of Scott Pilgrim's battle with Ramona's seven evil exes is a deeply metaphorical account of dealing with the baggage people bring to romantic relationships - albeit a metaphor told from Scott's emotionally-stunted point of view. Just as Scott has to face off with the violent psychopaths Ramona used to date, Ramona meets and comes to terms (or blows) with Scott's own lineup of exes - Kim Pine, Envy Adams, and, of course, Knives Chau.

2 - The Scott Pilgrim series draws on three main influences: indie music, video games, and, of course, comics. Turns out these are three great tastes that go great together. O'Malley blends subjects he's obviously quite passionate about with great ease to give the story a real frantic energy.

3 - The allusions to video games and music aren't required to understand or appreciate the story itself - they're just a bit of extra flavoring.

4 - Wallace Wells, Scott's gay roommate:


Dude's a HOOT.

5 - While 2010's movie adaptation of the series doesn't quite live up to the standard set by the book series, it's pretty faithful to the spirit of the books. Visually impressive, well-cast, and full of some pretty good music, the movie's definitely worth a look.

6 - The thing I love most about Scott Pilgrim, more than the pop culture references, the insane fight sequences, and the fantastic characters, is the heart. Ultimately, Scott Pilgrim's story is one of growing up, learning to accept responsibility, and becoming a man... even if that means putting away childish notions. It's a story for the Nintendo generation, now reaching adulthood. Frankly, I see it as the story of my own life. Not entirely a FLATTERING comparison, but apt.

For mixing in just the right amount of heartfelt sincerity with my big, stupid, fun, Scott Pilgrim has really caught my attention, and I'll love it forever.

Power Panels 3

Every comics fan out there should pick up the Flight anthology. Each volume contains a massive collection of short stories in comic form. Admittedly, not every story works, but the level of experimentation and creative energy that goes into these stories is admirable.

The second volume is probably my favorite of the bunch, and Sonny Liew's "Dead Soul's Day Out" seems to have made the biggest impression on me.

I've only read the Malinky Robot stories that appear in Flight. As near as I can tell, the stories center on two orphan boys, Atari and Oliver, who spend their days begging and scrounging up enough money to go watch their favorite science fiction giant robot movies.

Gripping, right?

Actually, these stories usually contain some surprisingly poignant moments. For a medium that allegedly doesn't do music well, "Dead Soul's Day Out" finds an effective use for musical lyrics. The story begins with Atari on the street, singing a song for coin:


Later, after finding some money on the ground and catching a giant robot flick, the boys find out their friend Misha is moving. Atari watches her leave just as the rain starts to come down:


In case you can't see it, the words to the apple song are hidden in the rain. The effect is surprisingly haunting - the music enhances the bittersweet atmosphere of parting with a dear friend. It's the closest I've ever seen a comics panel come to incorporating real background music, and it's surprisingly effective.

Why I'm Still Single 25

Special thanks to Heather Pope, who inspired this post.

Braddy Reads Megillat Esther

My continuing search for comics that MEAN something has taken a few depressing turns of late. I've been reading almost voraciously nearly every comic I find on these "Best Graphic Novel" lists, and I'm finding that... well... a lot of these writer/artists really like to show off what they learned in their figure drawing classes. Which, okay, doesn't make these stories BAD. When I read comics (or books in general), I'm not looking for a lot of graphic nudity and violence. I'm looking for a good, solid story with compelling visuals and (hopefully) some thought-provoking material.

So I figured what better way to avoid violence and immorality than by reading a story from the Bible.

Ah-Ba-Dum-Tish!

I found Megillat Esther by J. T. Waldman on a list of great comics for Hannukah. It's a graphic novel adaptation of the story of Esther, complete with rabbinical commentary.

I have to say that I enjoyed the experience of reading this book... but I wonder if maybe I'm not... JEWISH... enough to understand it.


That said, even I can appreciate artistically what's going on in this book. As you can see, the art is incredibly stylized. It's not quite my taste, but I still thought it fit. What's most impressive, though, is how the artist uses the comics space to tell the story.

About halfway through the book, about the point where the king rewards Mordechai after Haman's unintentional encouragement, the reader has to turn the book upside down to continue reading, forcing the reader to start reading the panels from right to left. It's a bit difficult to get the hang of (at least it was for me), but I found the effect fitting. Flipping the book creates a more "authentic" experience, as the original text would have been written from right to left. There's also a thematic connection, as the certain destruction of the Jews turns into a miraculous military victory, effectively turning predicted events on their heads.

Additionally, there are several nods throughout the text towards earlier Jewish history. There are quite a few of these references, so I won't mention them all. The most noteworthy to me appears towards the end of the text, as Esther draws nearer to her ultimate victory. Rachel and Leah, the mothers of the kingdom of Israel, appear in the margins and begin to argue over whose lineage is more successful. Again, I'm not sure I grasp the full significance of this moment, but the effect is pretty fantastic - and, really, it could only be done in graphic novel form.

I don't know that I LOVED the book, but I'm almost certainly not the target audience. Still, Megillat Esther was a fascinating read from a scholarly standpoint and well worth the time spent.

A Field Trip to the Derkins Library

About the same time that I started thinking about my favorite comic characters, Comics Alliance ran an article that led me to The Derkins Library - a website dedicated to collecting every scrap of writing or artwork Calvin and Hobbes creator Bill Watterson. Boy, is it fascinating.


I admire Bill Watterson quite a bit for his personal integrity and his dedication to the art of comics. He didn't see the comic strip as "low art," but rather he used his comics as a means of sincere, creative expression rarely seen in the medium (and almost never seen in newspapers anymore).


As much as I respect the man for stopping the Calvin and Hobbes strip when he did, I often wish we had more from Watterson, who to this day remains stubbornly reclusiv. Thankfully, The Derkins Library has a collection of some rare Watterson artwork, including some comics he drew before Calvin and Hobbes.


Easily, though, the most rewarding part of my trip to The Derkins Library was the transcript of a speech Bill Watterson gave called "The Cheapening of Comics" - a tirade against the space constraints that were being put on newspaper comics back in the 90s. Amazingly, a lot of what Watterson says still applies to comics at large - not just in the newspapers - and the way he encourages newspapers, syndicates, and comics artists to pursue new, creative means of making comics available to readers rings equally true in this day of the internet and digital distribution.


Here I've posted some of my favorite pieces from the rare art section, but the whole site is worth at least a browse.