Best Comics of 2012, No. 3: The Moon Moth

Only three to go for this year's countdown.
I was first epxosed to the work of SF writer Jack Vance in the Canadian groundlevel SF title Andromeda #4, edited by Dean Motter.
I must apologize for not having the foresight to scan my copy of the cover for this post. You're denied the lovely wraparound cover!But here's half the image...

The title also featured stories by A.E. van Vogt and James Tiptree, who we came to know as Alice Sheldon before her tragic suicide.
At any rate, Andromeda was one of a handful of ambitious and mostly successful titles in the groundlevel movement of the 1970s and 1980s.
I had no idea what to expect when I picked up this issue; I'd been buying the series and elected to stick with it. What I found- well, here's a synopsis from an Amazon review:
"The Narrow Land" (1967): Ern the crested water baby, having hatched from an egg, must try to find his way in a strange world, consisting of a strip of land and sea bordered by a wall of storm and a wall of night. Unusual for Vance in that the protagonist is not human.
The elaborate world and flowing language blew me away. I resolved to read more Vance but let it slip.
Don't pelt me with rocks and garbage. I'll get there. I just finished Cornell Woolrich's The Bride Wore Black, which has been on my list just as long!
I was both pleased and curious to see this new adaptation of a Vance work on the shelves at The Source in St. Paul. Being a poor woman, I got it from the library.
And I was enthralled with what I read and saw.

A murder mystery set on a world bound by a strict caste system, the story is compelling. Our hero is tasked with solving the murder without violating the complex social taboos of the society into which he is plunged.
The caste is twofold. The status of an individual is set by the mask worn and by the instrument played. Each has a specific meaning and the violation of either or both is an offense of the highest order.
Here are some of the instruments and their meanings:

And some exposition showing the tension of the writing:

Moon Moth is one the masks worn by the offworlder as he tries to solve the mystery and bring the killer to justice.
It's a very clever device. How can you know for whom you search when everyone is masked? Similar to the telepathic device in Alfred Bester's The Demolished Man in some respects....
Illustrator Humayoun Ibrahim brings a wonderful blend of pragmatism and imagination to his storytelling. A BFA graduate of School of Visual Arts, this is his first mainstream professional work. His work shows infulences of classic SF illustration, notably the work of Frank R. Paul. His next book, Decelerate Blue, is due out in September 2013.
While this book demands attention of the reader, if the reader engages, it's more than worth it.

This spread offers more exposition on the structure of the societal structure of the planet Sirene, our setting. There's a nice empathetic device here- the protagonist struggles to learn the elusive system as the readers do.

The publisher, First Second, is the graphic novel imprint of Macmillan, and offers a wide range of stories. Many of their titles are aimed at younger readers, but they also include some Eddie Campbell works in their catalog, along with the collected edition of Sailor Twain, listed in last year's Best of...series.
I hope more Vance adaptations are forthcoming. This is quality work in every way. And the only credited author is  Vance himself. Though 97 years of age(!), Mr. Vance is still with us, and may well be the last surviving Grand Master from the Golden Age of Science Fiction (I consider Harlan Ellison to be a Silver Age or New Wave author, depending on which set of arbitrary terms you choose to use).
But I digress yet again. This is a fulfilling, challenging read, illustrated with panache and great control, well worthwhile.
Tomorrow, No. 2 in the Best of 2012, high adventure from the Old West, finally given its due!

Best Comics of 2012: No. 11: Dial H

Okay, this one needs a bit of background for any neophytes.
In 1966, writer Dave Wood, who also co-created Challengers of the Unknown, co-created a new feature in House of Mystery. It involved a boy named Robby Reed, who used an old school telephone dial (no phone, just the dial). By dialing H-E-R-O,  he transformed into a random superhero.
Here's an example of one of his transformations.

And let us not forget his "cuss word", "sockamagee!"
The original storyline ran through 17 issues of insipred silliness, with a couple of random appearances by the character in the 1970s.
The stories were silly fun, fairly imaginative 1960s superhero fare.
One of Robby's transformations was to the classic version of Plastic Man, who had been neglected in comics for many years at that point.
There was a revival of the character in the 1980s, covering eleven issues of Adventure Comics (a title that never should have been canceled).
A couple more spot appearances, then nothing until 2003.
The 2003 H.E.R.O.  series ran for 22 issues. Here the focus was on the dial itself, and its effect on those who used it, reminiscent of the interaction of the Helmet of Nabu and those who become Dr. Fate by wearing it.
This brings us to the current series, Dial H, written by SF writer China Mieville and illustrated by Mateus Santolucco.
Meiville is a scary talented writer. I loved his dense, poetic novel The City and the City, and I'm embarrassed to say I've yet to read his multiple award winner and nominee Perdido Street Station. Meiville is also so politically active and aware he makes me look like a conservative. Scary, that.
His work here is a bit of a departure in some ways.

The story follows the original model: unwitting guy, attempting save his friend from a beating, accidentally dials H-E-R-O, this time in a deserted and ramshackle phone booth, and transforms into a superhero.
This time, the guy is a down on his luck middle-aged slob, jobless, hopelessly obese and depressed, and alone save one friend who's just about had it with him.
Meiville's story is infused with acerbic wit. Now ordinarily I'm not a big fan of snark (unless, of course, it's my snark). But it's to Meiville's credit as a writer that the characters retain their humanity and that we can and do still care about them in the midst of this silliness.
The book maintains genuine excitement and tension in the midst of the silliness. One need only watch the classic Abbot and Costello Meet Frankenstein to see how this is possible. The central plot involves an adversary, Ex Nihilo, who is putting people into comas as part and parcel of an inter-dimensional plot.
Here's a sampling of issue 1's adventure and absurdity.

Captain Lachrymose indeed!

Santolo's art serves the story very well. His imaginative character design is crucial to the story and particularly noteworthy. Part of a wave of talent from Brazil that both Marvel and DC/ Vertigo have used to great effect in recent years (think daytripper, the current Justice League and Green Lantern), this is quite welcome, and reminiscent of the influx of Filipino artists in the 1970s.
This is part of the "second wave" of DC's New 52- a bit disingenuous in my mind. If it's still "new", how can it already have a second wave?
The first issue sold just over 45,000, a little more than half of Batman's current sales averages. Following the current belief that single issue sales are merely loss leaders for TPBs (the first volume of Dial H, titled Into You, is due out in April 2013), the figure is acceptable, and the book seems to be holding its own.
I do have concerns about marketing. After all, there's no central hero costume to sell, and the merchandising? Toy phone dials in the second decade of the 21st century? I don't think so! Can't really use the phone booth itself, it's sort of been done.

So Number 12 was a revisionist  retro book inspired by a 1960s DC trope.
Number 11 was the same.
Tomorrow, we'll look at Number 10, which should sort of end the century. Maybe.

RIP Ray Bradbury: a comic book memory

As most of you have heard, we lost Ray Bradbury yesterday. He was 91. It's a good run.

Anyone versed in science fiction, fantasy and horror knows his work. Many of us (like me) begin with it.
I found a copy of R is for Rocket in my grade school library. Coupled with the short story The Man in a Boy's Life SF anthology I got somewhere, I developed a fascination with his sensitivity and use of language, even if I didn't fully understand it at age 8.
But as I did with Lord of the Rings and The Stars My Destination, I kept coming back to the work(s), finding new treats and possibilities every time.
My favorite works of his remain unchanged over the last ten years or so: his screenplay for John Huston's Moby Dick, the novel Something Wicked This Way Comes, The Martian Chronicles, and some of his SF poetry.

THEY HAVE NOT SEEN THE STARS

They have not seen the stars,
Not one, not one
Of all the creatures on this world
In all the ages since the sands
First touched the wind,
Not one, not one,
No beast of all the beasts has stood
On meadowland or plain or hill
And known the thrill of looking at those fires.
Our soul admires what they,
Oh, they, have never known.
Five billion years have flown
In turnings of the spheres,
But not once in all those years
Has lion, dog, or bird that sweeps the air
Looked there, oh, look. Looked there.
Ah, God, the stars. Oh, look, there!

It is as if all time had never been,
Nor Universe or Sun or Moon
Or simple morning light.
Those beasts, their tragedy was mute and blind,
And so remains. Our sight?
Yes, ours? to know now what we are.

But think of it, then choose. Now, which?
Born to raw Earth, inhabiting a scene,
And all of it no sooner viewed, erased,
As if these miracles had never been?
Vast circlings of sounding fire and frost,
And all when focused, what? as quickly lost?

Or us, in fragile flesh, with God's new eyes
That lift and comprehend and search the skies?
We watch the seasons drifting in the lunar tide
And know the years, remembering what's died. 
 But what I'd really like to talk about is his work in comics.
This is not intended to be exhaustive. It's a retrospective of my experience of the man's work.

The story of his bemused chiding of EC publisher Max Gaines and editor Al Feldstein is pretty common knowledge. My first exposure to these stories, given the lack of reprints in the late 1960s and early 1970s, was in the form of a couple Ballantine paperback collections of the EC stories, Tomorrow Midnight and The Autumn People. Both had Frazetta covers. 
In 1978,  when Russ Cochran's EC Reprint series of slip-cased hardcover editions began to come out, I had a subscription. In devouring the supporting material, I learned of the infamous letter to EC, politely chiding them for neglecting to pay his royalties on a story of his that they'd actually lifted!
The upshot, of course, was that he agreed to further adaptations. One of these, The Flying Man, contains eloquent art by one of my personal favorites, Bernard Krigstein.
I'm sure I read other Bradbury adaptations in comics over the years, but the next one that triggers in my memory is a poem on Viking Lander I that was included in Mike Frederich's "ground level" comic experiment, Star Reach, issue 6. The idea behind the "ground level" movement was that comics could take the energy and freedom of the undergrounds and temper it with more, ahem, lucid storytelling of overground, or mainstream comics. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not. The issue containing the Bradbury poem was particularly strong overall, incorporating a delightfully aggressive and melancholy Elric story by old Madison acquaintance Steven Grant and illustrator Bob Gould. The Bradbury poem in that issue was framed by an Alex Nino illustration, enhancing my burgeoning fascination with Fillipino comic artists.
Bradbury slipped in and out of my radar over the ensuing years. I was fascinated by the film adaptation of Something Wicked This Way Comes, despite the depiction of  rolling hills in Illinois!

The next comic book work involving Bradbury that I remember reading was the 1985 adaptation of Frost and Fire, part of a series of ambitious graphic novel SF adaptations of classic SF(and some noteworthy newer works, like Arthur Byron Cover's Space Clusters, again illustrated by Alex Nino!). Frost and Fire was illustrated by veteran inker Klaus Janson, most celebrated at the time for his  work with Frank Miller on Miller's initial Daredevil run. It's a successful collaboration, seamless in most places. The Bill Sienkiewicz cover art is well suited to the tone of the story.
Following that, there were the Topps adaptations of Bradbury's work. Topps was a short-lived but ambitious 1990s comic book publisher, an extension of  the Topps bubblegum card company. As you might expect from that, most of their line consisted of licensed properties, including The Lone Ranger, The X-Files and Xena. I recall two series, Ray Bradbury Comics (collected as multiple volumes of The Ray Bradbury Chronicles), a serialized version of The Martian Chronicles, and a one-shot of The Illustrated Man. As an anthology, the latter was uneven but usually worthwhile. I recall a particularly sensitive collaboration with P. Craig Russell on the story The Visitor. I've gushed over Russell's work in the past. Suffice to say that despite some printing issues, the work is worth searching out.
Those are my memories of Ray Bradbury's work in comics. I know it's far from a comprehensive list of comic book work , if such a thing exists.
 And it's not intended to be complete.There must be a Bradbury comic book bibliography, but I've not found one. I note with some sadness that there's no Bradbury entry at Lambiek, a site I've come to regard as a source of record on comic matters.
I did have one last comic book related Bradbury encounter. My colleague Dana Andrews and I were haunting the dealer's floor, down by Artist's Alley at SDCC a few years ago.  We heard a loud shout behind us- "Make way, make way! Make way for Ray Bradbury!" His honor guard forming a snowplow wedge, Ray Bradbury was wheeled by us, generating spontaneous applause as he passed. I gave him a smile, which I remember him returning. No way of knowing if that smile came from his head or my wishful thinking, but he did have a reputation as having a bit of an eye for the ladies.
Sad to think there will never be another Ray Bradbury story, barring printings of works already scheduled, if such there be. But like his peers, the other humanists of SF (Sturgeon, Simak, and Kress come to mind in this context), I think the line the fictional version of Twain uttered in an episode of ST: TNG comes to mind: "All I am is in my books."
His eloquence shows in this classic scene. Goodbye, Grand Master of Science Fiction.

And then the son saves him, and then he saves his son, and they live to the happy ending.

To Boldly Go where no split infinitive has gone prior...

In yesterday's Newsarama, Jill Pantozzi offers an intriguing op-ed about the future of LGBT characters in the Star Trek franchise.
She correctly recalls the TNG episode about the androgynous species that is punished for choosing a gender, but bypasses the episode involving Dr. Crusher having a romantic entanglement with a joined Trill who is subsequently transferred to a female host, or the Trill love affair in DS9 with a similar plot thread that resulted in the first onscreen kiss between two women in the Star Trek world.
Likewise, Data's casual remark during the toast in Star Trek: Nemesis, "Ladies, gentlemen and any transgendered species..." was not played for laughs, but taken as a matter of course. I refer you to 7:19 in this clip.
However, the price to pay is Brent Spiner's singing (he's actually OK).




A script by Troubles with Tribbles writer David Gerrold, Blood and Iron, was filmed independently, and features a prominent gay relationship. Thanks to Jill for alerting me to this in her article! This is cool in so many ways- a lovely dedication, a great space battle, and the inclusion of the "Pride colored" NBC peacock.


Here's Part II.



This Phase II stuff is pretty smart. I haven't had time to keep up, but if you want more, go to this site.
Meanwhile, real GLBT characterization in SF remains largely the province of the printed word.