graphic novel

BookBin2012: The Joker

~ LobaBlanca

I’ve accumulated a bit of a BookBin backlog and I’m starting to already forget my thoughts on the books that I’ve finished. That won’t be much of a problem with this entry.

I’m not really sure why I picked up Brian Azzarello’s The Joker. I could tell from the artwork that it was based on the Joker as portrayed by Heath Ledger in the Christopher Nolan Batman universe. I make no secret of the fact that I really dislike Nolan’s take on the Dark Knight. I have no interest in seeing this summer’s final offering. I’ll probably rent it later on. Then again, probably not. I guess it all depends on that day’s level of rental-related sadomasochism.

However, I know that Azzarello’s work with 100 Bullets is considered by many to be a graphic novel masterpiece (I’ve yet to experience it, but am willing to take other opinions into consideration).

The problem, however, is that no amount of creativity on Azzarello’s part is going to eliminate the fact that the foundation of this Joker was laid by Nolan. Did I mention that I really don’t like his translation of the Joker?

Well, I don’t.

Therefore, I didn’t really like this graphic novel.

One of the things that I’ve always liked about other interpretations of the Joker is that he is a dark, damaged, duplicitous criminal mastermind, worthy of being considered one of Batman’s number one opponents. Even in Alan Moore’s The Killing Joke, this darker version of the Joker carried within him a sharpness of wit and humor that were completely lacking in Azzarello’s Joker. Instead, in this story he’s nothing more than a bottom-dollar gangster, taking out petty vengeance on those who “wronged” him while he was away at Arkham Asylum.

Also? I know I come back to this all the time, but the depiction of women in this novel was atrocious. Harley Quinn as a mute stripper? (I’m just assuming she’s supposed to be a mute in this storyline, since I don’t believe I read any lines from her at all…she was just in the background, looking naked and lascivious). And a completely unnecessary act of sexual violence to show what an unhinged badass the Joker really is?

Please stop. Stop now.

I will say this: As with The Killing Joke, what ultimately saved this novel wasn’t the writing but the artwork. The combination of Lee Bermejo’s art with Mick Gray’s ink, Patricia Mulvihill’s colors, and Robert Clark’s letters combine for a delicious panorama of the more sinister sides of Gotham City and its seedier inhabitants. Some of the panels are frame-worthy, they’re so viciously beautiful.

Final Verdict: As much as I love the artwork, this is another case of finding the story itself so repulsive and unimpressive that I’m going to have to pass. Already back at the library, where I should have left it in the first place.

BookBin2012: Locke & Key: Welcome to Lovecraft

~ lobablanca

Okay, I’m just going to wait a moment while all you Cthulhu geeks wear yourselves out from your fannish squee frenzy.

…

All better? Good.

Yes, the subtitle of this first volume of what is currently a five-volume series (the fifth volume has yet to be released, however) is a sly bit of homage to that great proprietor of purple prose himself, H.P. Lovecraft. And, where else would the fair city of Lovecraft be located than in Massachusetts? I’m sure it’s quite close to Arkham and the prestigious Miskatonic University.

For the purposes of this graphic novel, Lovecraft is also the location of Keyhouse, the ancestral home of Rendell Locke, the family patriarch whose brutal murder during a home invasion sends his widow and three children on a cross-country journey from San Francisco back to the East Coast town he once called home.

Of course, any place located in a town named Lovecraft isn’t going to be level in any sense of the word. Keyhouse is vast, twisted, and full of secrets. Believe me when I say that you’ll be dying to learn them all.

Locke & Keye is a collaboration between celebrated genre author Joe Hill and artist Gabriel Rodriguez. I’ve raved about Rodriguez here at the lair already; he’s the artist behind the CSI graphic novels I’ve recently reviewed, the best being Secret Identity. I was so over-the-top happy to see more of Rodriguez’s exceptional art, which is even more impressive when he’s working with original characters rather than ones based on predetermined appearances. His visual translations of Hill’s bleak, unsettling tale spread through the pages of this novel in a rich, haunting diaspora.

I don’t want to go too far into the details of the story itself. Suffice it to say, the crux of the story is discovery…discovery of strength, of secrets, of keys to unlocking all the mysteries hidden within the confines of the Locke family’s new home and new life. Hill is a king among storytellers, and this is a shining example of his royally inherited prowess.

And if you think that last sentence was a little bit leading, you might have something to stand on there. I won’t say any more about it. I’ll just leave this photo of Joe Hill here, for you to ruminate on for yourselves…

Final Verdict: I completely enjoyed the first part of what I’m hoping to discover is a holistically creepy, captivating series. Bottom line is, if the subsequent volumes are even half as amazing as this first part, it’s going to be an awesome ride from here. I’ve already added this volume to my wish list (alas, this was yet another library loaner) and am contemplating whether or not to just dive in and collect them all. I do believe that my graphic novel collection is growing more rapidly than any other part of my library…and, with stories like this one lining up for consideration, I’m very much okay with that.

BookBin2012: All-Star Batman & Robin, The Boy Wonder, Volume 1

~ LobaBlanca

Well, there’s a mouthful of a title, right?

Seems that I went on a bit of a binge the last time I hit the local library, especially when it came to graphic novels. This time, I was surprised to find a couple of selections from Frank Miller’s catalog. I’ve been looking for Miller’s work to show up for a while now; mostly, I’ve been waiting for his Batman work as well as 300. I got part of my wish with this selection.

Even though it wasn’t The Dark Knight Returns, which is what I was hoping would show up, I was more than willing to give All-Star Batman & Robin a go. With this series, we get Miller’s take on how Dick Grayson found himself under the protection and training of Batman after events left them sharing a defining moment involving their respective parents (how’s that for vague?).

Mainly, I was drawn in (ha) by the fact that Jim Lee was the artist for this collection. Lee was an integral force behind the artwork of the X-Men back in the late 80s and 90s. He pretty much helped establish the appearance of that merry band of mutants to which I was first introduced through the Saturday morning cartoon that I still love. Not only that, he helped Chris Claremont create the character of Gambit, who was always one of my favorites on the cartoon. Also? Anyone who gets a vote of confidence from Chris Claremont definitely gets my vote, too.

Obviously, at some point Lee shifted his talents from Marvel to DC, which led to his teaming up with Miller on this retelling of the Boy Wonder’s arrival in the Bat Cave.

Taken in its entirety, this is an amazing collection. Miller’s dark sensibilities work well in conjunction with the world of the Dark Knight. This is not the glowing realm of Metropolis, protected by their alien immortal in bright patriotic splashes of blue and red. This is seedy, gray Gotham, full of characters composed of gritty complexity. There are rarely clear delineations between good and evil, as intent and integrity blur into the deep shadows that Lee so eloquently elicits through his artwork. Kudos should also be given to Scott Williams and Alex Sinclair, who were responsible for inking and coloring, respectively.

Where the weakness of this collection shows is where the weakness of most comics appear: the depiction of female characters. Miller’s women are vapid, vituperative, and vindictive, not to mention extremely objectified through language and artistic renderings. We meet Vicki Vale in her very skimpy lingerie. Later, we see her preening in anticipation of getting close to Bruce Wayne and his huge bank account. The Black Canary is a busty, bawdy barmaid with indecent curves and impossible heels. Wonder Woman…she was the greatest disappointment of all. Apparently, in Miller’s Gotham, a woman of strength and independence by default must be an angry, violent man hater secretly harboring crippling lustful urges toward the primary target of her man-hating ways.

Right.

Miller’s depiction of all the women in this collection was infuriating, but no take was more insulting or offensive than his on the Amazon goddess.

Plus, there’s the added insult of the comic-standard ass angle in which we see nothing but the…butt of whatever woman happens to be in frame at the present moment. What a dull, tedious angle, lacking in any artistic integrity or imagination.

That being said, I did find certain other choices by Miller to be intriguing. I liked that his Batman was just the least bit, shall we say, unhinged. Sure, he’s the Dark Knight. Yes, he’s a crime-fighter. But he’s not a “hero.” He’s surly, unpredictable, uncooperative and just a tad bit…cracked. He refers to himself as “the goddamn Batman,” which made me think of the awesome Twitter feed of the same name every time I read it. I’m assuming this comic is also from where the idea for Christian Bale’s gravelly, growly Batman voice came? Interesting. Works better in print form.

Final Verdict: I’m not really sure I want to add this to my library. As much as I love Lee’s artwork as well as many aspects of Miller’s re-imagining of Gotham and its Dark Knight, I didn’t feel any particular desire to revisit. This might change. If it does, I’ll let you know.

BookBin2012: Deogratias

~ LobaBlanca

After stating in my last review that I find fictional uses of September 11 to be disconcerting, it’s a strange twist for me to then turn to a graphic novel recounting of the 1994 Rwandan genocide.

Truth is, the deeper down the graphic novel rabbit hole that I dive, the more blown away I am by the creativity and introspection shown by the amazing artists I’m discovering. When I saw Jean-Philippe Stassen’s Deogratias: A Tale of Rwanda, I didn’t think twice about grabbing it from the library shelf. David Beauchard and Craig Thompson have more than convinced me that this medium is not only capable of respectfully dealing with tough topics, but it is also in many ways more appropriate when dealing with things that escape the limits of language itself.

I should have been clued in by the expurgated length of this novel that it wasn’t going to be terribly provocative; however, the topic alone more than fulfills that expectation. Even nearly 20 years later, I still can’t wrap my brain around how the world sat by as so many lives were brutally snuffed from existence. Then again, most of the things that humanity does to itself elude my understanding. The one thing that humans will probably never truly understand is human nature.

Stassen tells a very carefully controlled story, centering on the titular character Deogratias (a Latin liturgy meaning “thanks be to God”). We experience the outbreak of violence through this teenaged boy’s view as he watches his Hutu kinsmen rise up against the local Tutsi. Interspersed are moments embedded 5 years after the fact, in which we see how the events have irrevocably altered him…alterations that Stassen conveys in a rather interesting visual choice.

In some ways, it feels almost disrespectful to have condensed the events of this genocide into such a short novel. Then again, I don’t necessarily think I would have been able to absorb a visual account any longer than this, considering how bleakly explicit Stassen’s artwork became at times. There are some things you simply don’t need to see to comprehend how awful they were.

An obvious comparison at this time would, of course, be Art Spiegelman’s Maus, not only for the graphic treatment of a graphic historical event, but also for shared allegorical elements. Spiegelman’s groundbreaking novels, however, are far more complicated than Stassen’s tale. Still, I believe that Stassen pays subtle but deserved obeisance to Spiegelman’s novels through certain choices in his storytelling.

Final Verdict: As an interlude to something more probing and holistic, this is worth the time to read; however, as a stand-alone, it falls short of the greatness to which it could have transpired.

BookBin2012: Epileptic

~ LobaBlanca

Not wanting the “Public Library” portion of my BookBin2012 widget to go unloved, and because I simply cannot stay out of a library as gorgeous as our neighborhood library, I bring you my latest discovery from the graphic novel section: Epileptic by David B. (or David Beauchard).

Originally released as a six-volume series under its French title, L’Ascension du Haut Mal (which translates as “The Rise of the High Evil”; also, “haut mal” is the French equivalent of the English term “grand mal” in reference to epileptic seizures), Epileptic is Beauchard’s retelling of his family’s journey through the sudden onset of his older brother’s epilepsy when his brother was 11.

Beauchard’s choice to approach his family’s story from his younger version’s perspective brings the narrative to a less convoluted, more accessible level. A story dealing with such a serious medical condition runs the risk of becoming overburdened by medical jargon; telling the tale from the perspective of the little brother who must process all these changes and ordeals as they are happening gave Beauchard permission to simplify his narrative without watering it down.

He balances the various family dynamics and reactions to his brother’s worsening condition, demonstrating not only the extraordinary measures to which family is willing to go in order to save their own, but also the disconnectedness and solitary confinement each member experiences, even in the face of familial cohesion in pursuit of a cure. Though they are together in family experimental journeys into alternative medicinal treatments and alternative religions, Beauchard explores well the varied and separate emotional responses he and his family experience.

Beauchard is not an overly sentimental writer, which I believe serves his story well. He is, however, a phenomenal artist. Just as I praised Craig Thompson for the artistry of his novel, Blankets, I believe that Beauchard is another whose artistic prowess has raised my opinion of graphic novels to an even higher plateau of respect. The inky intricacy of his oftentimes nightmarish tableaux roll over you in swells of beauty, horror, desperation, promise, resentment, and resignation. His artwork is unsettling, reflecting at times the disturbing aesthetic of a Grand Guignol influence.

[Or perhaps I merely think this because they’re both French. This is sometimes how my brain works.]

Admittedly, the artwork is bold and distinct enough that it was a bit overwhelming at first. I pressed through my initial discomfort and soon found myself enraptured by the dark details of Beauchard’s beautiful black and white panels. His view of the world, both the real one and that of his exquisite imagination, is rich and complex and full of the fury and impotence with which so many families are familiar when faced with an intractable disease. At times I found myself lingering over a page long after finishing the text, simply trying to take in the layers hidden beneath the words…layers that provided a deeper narrative unhindered by the boundaries of letters.

Final Verdict: I hope that this novel has already found its way into another’s book basket at our library. Definitely another one for the Amazon wish list.

BookBin2012: Secret Identity

~ LobaBlanca

I promise, this will be the last book review for a while. It will also be much shorter than my last two reviews. I don’t want to overload you.

I’m now finished with the stack of CSI graphic novels that I purchased last year, with the fifth in the series, Secret Identity. I thought this was the last one illustrated by Gabriel Rodriguez, but it looks like there might be one more, although it doesn’t seem to be part of the longer serial novels. I think it might be a one-shot novella done back when Ashley Wood was still doing the abstract artwork. More investigating is required.

For Secret Identity, Rodriguez again paired with Steven Perkins on the abstract art. Steven Grant took over from Kris Oprisko as the writer of this story. It’s a shame that this was the last novel Rodriguez and Perkins worked on together, because I believe this is the best of the bunch. Not only did these two artists’ divergent styles merge beautifully for this novel, Rodriguez really came into his own for the main artwork. He invests a great deal of care and creativity into exploring the space of each page, each panel, bringing a sense of grace and artistry to what is also the darkest, and in my opinion, best written story from this batch of five novels.

Steven Grant did a tremendous job writing this story, giving readers something that not only can compete with a television script, but might in some ways surpass what we’ve seen from the show (especially in recent years). It’s refreshing to see such a cumulatively extraordinary effort put toward a medium that, when done in such a mass market style as comic book tie-ins to television series, typically tends to suffer from mediocrity and apathy from all involved. Case in point? Go flip through a stack of hastily written/drawn/published Trek comics and tell me what you think…you know, after you finish peroxide-washing your brain and eyes.

The coloring is again superb, drawing from a palette of soothing to passion-infused, and enhancing the almost cinematic-quality angles of Rodriguez’s cleverly drawn panels. Also, IDW Publishing returned to the standard size for this graphic novel (although it looks like they also offered it in the smaller “New Format” size; avoid this one at all cost), which means larger space for artwork that truly deserves every inch and more.

Final Verdict: Definitely a keeper. I’d vote this the best of the first five CSI graphic novels, hands down. If you’re at all interested in seeing what the comics can offer you, this would be my top recommendation.

BookBin2011: CSI Graphic Novels

~ lobablanca

No, that isn’t a mistake, denizens. This will be the final book entry for my 2011 reading endeavors. Even though I was in the process of reading several other books (my attention span seemed to shrink significantly toward the end of last year), I decided I wanted to end the year on a fluffy note. Therefore, the stack of CSI graphic novels that I picked up from Amazon Marketplace a while ago seemed like a great place to go. Besides, as I mentioned in my last post, there was road-tripping to be done this past weekend, and since I wasn’t driving, I chose to entertain myself with reading.

Okay, so here’s the deal: After reading the first CSI graphic novel, Serial, I decided that

BookBin2011: Blankets

~ LobaBlanca

I suppose it would be a bit naive of me to think that I can have an objective opinion of Craig Thompson’s illustrated novel (his rather concise term) Blankets. Even though I knew nothing about the novel when I hefted it from the library shelf and added it to my pile, it ended up being one of the most surprisingly accessible books I’ve picked up in a very long time.

Thompson, born one year before me, is a contemporary not only in age and pop culture references (his affinity for the grunge music scene is particularly well defined through mostly wordless background references that might slip past you if you’re not paying attention), but also in religious experiences. His autobiographical protagonist goes through many of the same ordeals that I went through as a student at a Christian high school. His questions, fears, conundrums, and ultimately, his deliverance from these spiritual quandaries are more often than not identical to my own experiences.

And there I’ve gone and given away the ending. But only if you know me well…

Thompson’s journey through his religious and familial morasses is much darker, much more complex than mine ever was, which adds a newness to a slightly recognizable story and provides greater opportunity to develop a sense of empathy for our hero. His experiences with the ostracizing impact of adolescence and fumbling attempts at first love ultimately make him more fallible and more endearing with each page. Also, Thompson’s artistic skills are enviable. Blankets is a perfect example of why the graphic medium is such a powerful contributor to the literary world. In fluid lines and simple shadowing, Thompson is able to convey the complexities of emotion and beauty that often defy description. His artwork is elegant, observational, reverent, and beguiling.

Final Verdict: Alas, I must return this copy to our library where, hopefully, many others will discover its subtle beauty and depth. I would love to have a copy of this book in my library. Dear Amazon.com Marketplace, make me an offer I can’t refuse…

BookBin2011: La Perdida

~ LobaBlanca

This was a last-minute impulse grab from the graphic novel section as I was trying to leave the library during my last visit. I’d already pulled a stack of books from this section (most of which I’ve already finished and written up here), but there was something so very…forsaken about this novel. It sat, separate from the other novels, missing its dust jacket, its hardback cover showing its title and author only on the spine. I don’t know why, but I have a bit of a soft spot for hardback books that have lost their jackets.

And thus I ended up adding Jessica Abel’s La Perdida to my stack of selections. Translated as “The Lost,” La Perdida leads us through a year-long look at life in Mexico City, as experienced by the novel’s protagonist, Carla Olivares. Born to an American mother and Mexican father, Carla spends most of her early life trying to distance herself from the Mexican half of her heritage. However, as she grows more disillusioned with her urbanal existence as a 20-something Chicagoan, she decides to leave everything behind to drop in on her ex-boyfriend Harry, a rather stereotypical “wealthy WASP” who has chosen to live in Mexico City because his literary hero, William S. Burroughs, lived there for a brief time (he fled to Mexico City to escape possible jail time in Louisiana only to end up in a Mexican jail after killing his wife during a drunken game of William Tell.)

[Loba Tangent: There is a part of me that was greatly amused by the serendipity of discovering so many references to Burroughs throughout this novel, considering my recent discovery and appreciation of Beat Generation literature.]

Harry soon tires of Carla’s presence and kicks her out. However, rather than return home, Carla chooses to remain in the country illegally, an expatriate desperate to not only experience “true Mexico” but to be accepted by a collection of locals with whom she has become friends since her arrival. These include Oscar, a winsome if somewhat witless drug dealer who dreams of one day touring the United States as a renowned DJ and with whom she falls into a rather indeterminate relationship; and Memo, a false prophet of

BookBin2011: Escape from “Special”

~ lobablanca

I feel as though I am already turning against a newly acquired friend before our relationship has even had a chance to take root.

Oh well.

I very much wanted to like Miss Lasko-Gross’s graphic novel Escape from “Special.” I was instantly convinced to check it out from the library after reading the following line from the description:

Subjected to the whims of her bemused parents and, as the years pass, rejected by her peers, the opinionated Melissa copes by watching horror movies, psychosomatically vomiting to get out of temple, and making comics.

This is a girl to whom I can relate (minus the psychosomatic vomitting part…that’s kind of…no). Lasko-Gross offers readers a semi-autobiographical telling of protagonist Melissa’s development from off-center child to ostracized-and-unconcerned-about-it adolescent. She presents Melissa’s story through surrealistically drawn vignettes that lack any form of “prettification.” The artwork is rough and the writing is coarse. Then again, so is the subject matter. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: There isn’t enough money in the world to convince me to relive my adolescence. It was awkward and uncomfortable and strange and, while I wouldn’t change any of it since it turned me into the Wonder Geek I am today, I definitely wouldn’t want to go through it again.

That’s kind of what it felt like at times when reading this graphic novel, which left me feeling decidedly displeased. At other times, it felt like I was witnessing something completely removed from anything my brain could properly process. Melissa’s attempt to create a protective second skin out of her own snot is one of the more outlandish moments. It was also one of the moments that left me rolling my eyes in such a cartoonish way that I’m sure they made clickety noises that others could hear.

The bottom line is that I think I’m well beyond the target age for this particular graphic novel. I think it’s something that someone closer to the age of the protagonist could better relate to; I’m old and clickety in places other than my rolling eyes. Would I recommend this as reading for a high schooler? I think it definitely has redeeming qualities for someone in that age bracket who was feeling marginalized by their peers and looking for someone to whom they could relate. So, yes. Yes, I would.

Would I recommend it for someone beyond the high school wasteland? Probably not. As I mentioned in my last review, there is definitely not a dearth of graphic novel memoirs out there to be enjoyed, so spending time on one like this when there are several other better ones to experience? No, I’d not choose this one over those others. Right off the top of my head, I’d name Alison Bechdel’s Fun House as a holistically superior coming-of-age tale.

Final Verdict: Add another graphic novel to the return pile.