Best Comics of 2013, No. 6: The Lost Boy

These entries have dragged out a bit, but I am completing the list today and tomorrow.
A bit of backstory on today's entry.
Last time I attended San Diego Comicon, I picked up a small volume that I chose for reading on the plane ride home: Greg Ruth's Sudden Gravity: A Tale of the Panopticon.
I was so blown away by it, I was sure my reaction would send the plane off course. Ruth's surreal yet oddly comforting nightmare of intentionally distorted reality has a devastating effect on the unsuspecting reader. I elected to use it as a text in my next Graphic Novel course, and Greg was kind enough to join the course for a week of online discussion- very informative, educational and fun, and more to the point, inspiring to comic art students. Many chose it as their favorite book of the semester.
Since then, I've followed his career with great interest. He has illustrated a number of children's books, including the fun Pirate Guide to... series and one based on President Obama's first inaugural address. He's done more comic work, including some Conan illustration and 2012's City of Orphans (still on my reading list). When I saw his new solo book The Lost Boy this year, I jumped at it. As its presence here indicates, I was not disappointed.

Example of Ruth's exquisite control and line work

(note: all illustrations for this entry are courtesy of Greg Ruth)
Themes that appear to be central to Ruth's solo work surface here: childhood isolation and vulnerability, surrealism and magical realism in daily life, and a burning desire to triumph over melancholy.
While Ruth hardly has a monopoly on these themes, he executes them adroitly.
This is the story of Nate, a boy stranded in a particularly unwelcoming country house (which at times felt like suburbia) by the career caprices of his parents. Two things happen in short order. He is befriended by a neighbor of like age and temperament, Tabitha. Together, they explore the mysteries of a tape recorder Nate discovers in his attic. The tapes are a record of the mysteriously lost Walt, who years earlier went in search of missing pets only to find...
But that would be telling. Aided and hampered in their search by talking animals, insects and abandoned toys (many of which have eloquent personalities), the pair set out on their quest for Walt.
Ruth manages to pull the reader into implausible situations with great ease. We all feel our lives to be impossible at times, and Ruth taps directly into that. There's an empathy, coupled with a wry wit, to his writing.The latter is especially apparent in Tabitha's dialogue here, and is sorely missed when he capably illustrates the writing of others.
The child's journey into the world of the lost is a classic theme, the basis for works as far-ranging as Peter Pan and Neil Gaiman's Mirrormask (the fractured world into which the child is propelled, also present here, is another recurring Gaiman theme). Despite these commonalities, Ruth offers a singular voice.

There's another great delight here for me. The presence of talking critters and armies of insects and frogs invokes the heyday of vintage cartoons, a lifelong passion. As I read The Lost Boy, part of me saw it as a really elaborate storyboard for an incomplete Fleischer feature film, a nightmare sequel to Mr. Bug Goes to Town!

Establishing shot two-page spread or animation background?
You be the judge!

It takes great talent and restraint to bring out the magical and the nightmare in the mundanity of the everyday. Ruth uses some subtle visual devices as storytelling aids. The sequences in the present are bordered in black, if they have borders, while those set in Walt's past are bordered in white.

A few critics (mostly Amazon reviewers) found fault with the level of explanation of some plot points- "this or that was not clear enough." I didn't have that trouble. I see nothing wrong with having the reader involved in deciphering the narrative, especially when there's an element of mystery, as there is here. A good reader doesn't need to be spoon fed the story, and a good writer knows that. I have no more respect for lazy readers than I do for sloppy writers. I also respect the fact that the story is not dumbed down for young readers. Kids are a lot smarter than some writers, and many publishers, believe them to be.
As cerebral as this story is, it's action heavy. There's a war on (possibly more than one), with very high stakes.

Ruth often uses simple tools to create his eloquent art (Sudden Gravity was drawn entirely in ballpoint pen!). As discussed when looking at Colleen Doran's A Distant Soil, it's always a delight to read the work of a skilled artist who also really knows how to write.
A member of the Out of Step Arts Collective, Ruth works on new projects at a pace to rival that of David Mack or Matt Wagner- consistent, sometimes frenetic, but never a sacrifice of quality to time. The quality and individualism in Ruth's work clearly rivals those creators. I suspect the primary reason his name is less of a household word in comic circles is that he's done less mainstream work than they have. Like them, he's on my list of creators whose work will always get an eager look from me.
I imagine that writing such emotionally intense work with veracity takes its toll on Ruth, which would explain why he's done relatively few solo books in the two decades he's been a comics and illustration professional. That's certainly understandable, but as satisfying as The Lost Boy is, I'm hungry for more.

Next: Best Comics of 2013, No. 5, also not for the simple minded.








What the heck, here's one more great Lost Boy page on which to fly away!

Best Comics of 2013, No. 7: 7 Against Chaos

Really, when Harlan Ellison and Paul Chadwick collaborate, how could the result not make the list?
Chadwick's Concrete remains one of my two favorite superheroes (the other, oddly, is Herbie, the Fat Fury, with James Robinson's Starman as runner-up). And Ellison is - well, Ellison. I'm relieved his health appears to be holding, despite reports of his imminent demise a couple years ago.
Concurrent with the Strange Armor storyline, a Concrete short story appeared in which our heroes visited the home of Dwayne Byrd, a not so thinly veiled reference to Ellison's preferred nom de plume, Cordwainer Bird. The story, Byrdland's Secret, used Ellison's life, work and philosophies as a starting point to muse on the role of art and literature in our lives, and the urgent, almost primal need to cling to a spirit of adventure in those lives.

This story appears at first blush to be old-school space opera- some fun ideas and elaborate trappings. However, as is the case with most of Ellison's work, it quickly becomes something larger than the sum of its parts. An aggregate of strange beings, given singular abilities by the perversion of their forms in the names of profit, politics, power and entertainment, is off on a quest to do - well, something. Only one of them knows their mission at its outset. At this point, it feels a bit like a fairly conventional superhero narrative, albeit a smartly written one.
The plot and its implications quickly thicken.
The stakes are no less than the nature of existence, as a reptilian life form is trying to rewrite not only history, but evolution. Unbeknownst to the rest of the universe, this group of rejects is fighting for the existence of everyone, and should they succeed, nobody will know.
There are several Ellison themes that come into play here. Of course, the humanizing of those considered rejects dates back to his civil rights work, and the classic short story The Discarded. And the tragedy of great work going unrecognized has been a recurring theme in Ellison interviews for decades.

Ellison's proprieties: Sugar & Spike rightly rank with Mount Rushmore in the scope of human achievement!

Paul Chadwick's work here is as strong as anything else he's done. While I cherish the populist notions in Concrete, his vivid imagination is seen in other works, including his The World Below mini-series and one issue of the classic Dr. Strange mini-series, The Flight of Bones. In 7 Against Chaos, he's given the opportunity to stretch thematically and offer some beyond cool science fiction illustration, and he rises to both challenges admirably. The work is reminiscent of the best of the 1960s DC science fiction stories in terms of pure imagination and joy, while holding to a contemporary quality. This is not a nostalgia piece, but it does recognize the value of past works, a challenging balancing act, well executed.
And it's cool to see, and a great adventure to read!
7 Against Chaos begins with a fairly direct, albeit elaborate, scenario and sweeps the reader along to ask complex questions about the nature and purpose of life, all while riding an interstellar roller coaster. In addressing the best of 2013, I've talked about works that have value as pure enjoyment, and works that say something deeper and challenge the reader. This is both. I pray that Ellison and Chadwick collaborate again!
Next: Best Comics of 2013, No. 6, gets lost.

Best Comics of 2013, No. 8: RASL Color Edition!

My admiration for the work of Jeff Smith is hardly a state secret. I treasure BONE and its related stories ROSE and Stupid Stupid Rat Tales no end, and was delighted by his interpretation of the SHAZAM! legend. The latter made it seem like Smith was addressing recurring themes in his work- not a bad thing, but one that can lead to predictability in even the most capable hands.
How wrong I was.
When RASL debuted at San Diego a few years ago in an oversized teaser edition, it was unlike any of his previous work. Certainly, there were dire and grim aspects to all the predecessors of RASL. But this was downright gritty.

The story of an inter-dimensional art thief, RASL also touches on near-Promethean scientific concerns as it plays with concepts from the work of Nicola Tesla. There's also mythic trappings from native American faiths, and a seemingly autistic girl who may or may not be God. As the story unfolds, we learn that our thief is a scientist on the run, trying to hold onto his discovery.
It's also a story of love, loss and betrayal.
While these themes are clearly present in the earlier works, they take center stage here. This is a much harder edged, much more adult story than the BONE or SHAZAM! material.
In addition to the thematic concerns, this work is noteworthy for its coloring. While past color versions of Smith's work have always been worthwhile (note that SHAZAM! has only been printed in color- I'd be curious to see it in B & W: an artist's edition, perhaps?), the color really stands out here. Tightly controlled palettes, low key color (even in the brightest scenes), and use of color for mood and atmosphere, beyond the obvious and blatant uses of color (skin should be this color, etc.) make this a remarkable achievement.
Smith has offered a singular work here. His current online book TUKI, which I am woefully behind on reading, is every bit as good and every bit as singular as its precursors.

Sample of RASL page in B & W and in color

Again measuring up to standards set in past works, RASL is offered in a very affordable hardcover single volume, along with separate volumes of each chapter and a deluxe and super spiffy slipcased hardcover edition (sold out, but there is a deluxe HC at Smith's website for $10 over the base price of the HC).

I'm not a shill for Jeff Smith, really I'm not. But good work deserves both attention and commerce!

Over the years, I read and re-read Jeff Smith's works. The themes are solid and challenging, the art is consistently high quality and moves the story along with deliberation and precision (Smith's background in animation has clearly honed his narrative timing), and the books are exciting every time I open them. As I've lamented ad nauseum of late, my finances are precarious, but I'm mulling what I can sell to secure funds for the deluxe edition of RASL. Reading the public library copy again just won't cut it on this one!

The sold-out slipcased edition

Next: Best Comics of 2013, No. 7: two masters working at the peak of their game.

Best Comics of 2013, No. 9: On the Ropes

In 1989, Denis Kitchen began publishing the first major work of a relatively unknown writer, James Vance. Working with artist Dan Burr, he created a miniseries later collected under its title, Kings in Disguise. The story of a lad in search of his father during the Depression and the ragtag cadre of hoboes (the term is an abbreviation of "homeward bound") who help 12-year-old Freddie Bloch survive, Kings in Disguise touched on every aspect of the human condition in 1930s America.
24 years later, the creative team reunited for a sequel, On the Ropes. A reinterpretation of Vance's stage play (as was Kings), On the Ropes picks up some years down the line in Freddie's life.

At this point, Freddie is an assistant in a rather macabre act, part of a WPA funded touring sideshow. His boss's act is nothing more than putting a noose around his neck, pulling the trap on the gallows and surviving.

The grim humor of mocking death is not lost on Freddie, who has lost his leg to a train in between stories. After surviving union busting, near starvation and encounters with a crazy coot who MIGHT be Jesse James in the first book, he just slips and loses his leg. Life's a funny old dog sometimes.

As Freddie tries to understand his boss Gordon Corey, he's drawn back into the world of unions. Union busters are hunting Corey as Freddie is elsewhere, being swept up in picketing, pamphleteering and bittersweet one-way romance.

The anti-union thugs pursuing Corey, the mysteries of his past, and Freddie's divided loyalties all collide, as they must.

The art is a bit disproportionate in spots, but that's my only quibble, and it has matured considerably since the first series. Burr's work has just the right amount of detail and is accurate to the period (as far as I know- my Mother was born in 1930, so I have second-hand knowledge of the era). More importantly, the emotions are all spot on in the art and in the writing. The integration of story and image is virtually seamless in both volumes.
More than place or art, this is a story of people. That may seem like a "well, duh!" statement. But the hardest and first duty of fiction is to tell the truth. As we routinely indulge in fantasy, science fiction, horror, Westerns and other diversions, it's important to remember that people drive the ideas. The ideas here are old but vital: we have to take care of one another. We are all full of pain and joy, whether we see it in one another or not. And as H.L. Mencken bitterly noted, it is precisely when people are at their worst that they are the most interesting.This story, about people pretending to die to make a living, people fighting for right to work and others fighting to stop them, shows us at our worst, and at our best.
I hold out hope that either or both of these books will be successfully filmed someday. While we're wishing, it would be great to see James Vance and John Garcia's early 1900s Western Owlhoots completely published some day.
Until then, we have Kings in Disguise and 2013's On the Ropes to remind us of who we are, and who we could be.
Next: Best Comics of 2013 No. 8, an intersection of art, science and larceny.

Original Art Sundays No. 174: Surrealist Cowgirls, pages 24 and 25

As promised, a double header this week. Only one page to go to wrap up this story.
The first of these pages is a bit adventurous in layout, and the second is much more straightforward. I had a great confidence and positive energy when creating the second page, and I hope it shows.
Not mad for the solution I've found for scanning, but it works. I will have to rescan every page before going to press anyway, and may decide to rework a couple.
When we left our party, they were trapped at the base of the Obsidian Crystal Ziggurat. Tolcanan's familiar Chiss had just been enlarged by an energy circle, from Tolcanan to Chiss to Kay Seurat-Suerat's wand and back to Chiss. He was about to engulf Master Pah.
Now read on.

Next: The Surrealist Cowgirls in It Does This When I Hurt, conclusion.

Best Comics of 2013, No. 10: Omaha the Cat Dancer, Vol. 8

This one should come as a complete surprise to nobody. I've made no secret of my admiration for Omaha the Cat Dancer, or of my past associations with its creative team, over the years. While there's the usual talk of narratives and techniques, this one also get a bit mushy, so feel free to skip it if you're not into that.
There will be a few spoilers in this entry, but hey, the work's been out for months, and my few words will not detract from any pleasure you might take in the reading of this work.
This year saw the publication of the final pages of the Omaha saga, first in Sizzle magazine, then as a collection (which I've yet to pick up, though I was able to keep up with the story through the magazine, the rest of which is silly at best).
While not all storylines are fully resolved, those whose denouement is not directly discussed are alluded to pretty directly, like Rob and his boyfriend attending the wedding. I would have liked to see some follow-up on Shelley's personal trainer Dave Allen, whose character was intriguing but sort of faded away quite a while ago, but most everyone else gets a long-overdue resolution, if not an ending.
Endings are overrated. Resolutions give chances at new beginnings.

Reed's color sense, seen on this cover and not seen in print since the 2004 cover that launched the conclusion in Sizzle, remains strong and at least rivals that of the late Kate Worley, who colored the covers on the old Kitchen Sink and Fantagraphics runs. His placement and shaping of shadows occasionally troubles me, but that's just a question of taste, not of accuracy - his way works just fine, I'd just handle it differently, that's all.
Reed's art took several turns in these final chapters, spread over almost ten years (!). Working with Kate as a writer, his backgrounds were precise, to the point of architectural accuracy. In contrast, with James Vance taking over as writer, Reed's backgrounds got looser, and the art became even more about the characters. Neither approach is wrong, but it was fascinating to watch Reed again deeply embrace some of the "takes" and other expressive elements of the funny animal stuff that got him started.
I'm walking on eggshells a bit here. Even though it's been more than twenty years since Reed let me apprentice under his tutelage (and there's an awkward phrase for you!), I still tend to see him as the Master, and the Student does not speak ill of the Master. Yeah, I know, get over it. No, I don't think so. I learned a great deal from Reed, about art and about life, and while I may and do disagree with him on some things, I will not disrespect him or his work.

First page of this volume,
with Kate Worley writing

The aforementioned Sizzle cover showed Omaha reaching for an alarm clock that was chiming 2005, a charming recognition of time slipping away.
Some of the things that were revolutionary about Omaha in its heyday are now commonplace. Funny animal work comes and goes in comics. The furry community slogs on, arguably supplanted (or enhanced?) by Bronies- a tentative relationship, but an interesting idea! The rights of GLBT people are now discussed in the Supreme Court, and there are sixteen or seventeen states where the rights of GLBT people to marry are recognized (we'll have to see what happens in Utah). We have mechanisms in place for legal protections of comic creators working in volatile areas (again with no small thanks to Reed and Kate), though the fight continues (note to self- renew CBLDF membership!). Disability rights and depictions of the disabled are more common, and more realistic, in comics now. So in light of all that, how does the new work stand up?
Quite well, thank you. As is the case with many of the titles we've discussed so far in this year's countdown, it's a bit like getting back together with old friends. They will say and do things that annoy and frustrate you, but you still care a great deal what happens to them.
Again, yeah, I know. Fictional characters. So what? They may not matter as much as the three-dimensional carbon based life forms in the long run, but they still matter. And it's a note of respect for the creators that they matter to us as much as they do.

Panel from the later chapters written by James Vance.
Note the level of background detail.

We finally learn who's behind the A Block scandals, and of course, Bonner's murder (I should note that I was wrong about this every step of the way). Chuck is given the opportunity to come to terms with his family, and as the cover of Volume 8 implies, resolves his relationship with Omaha. Again, it would have been nice to see Rob and Geoff marry, but there just wasn't time, I guess. Also, gay marriage wasn't legally recognized in MN until after the story was concluded.
Conclusion and resolution are words that recur in this piece. That's the nature of this story, and that's me. I am such a sentimentalist slob, I am reluctant to let go of any of the good things in my life. And my association with Reed Waller, Kate Worley, James Vance, and Omaha the Cat Dancer and her associates, despite troubles and distances, remains A Good Thing. Naturally, my perception of the work is influenced by that, but that doesn't effect the intrinsic quality of the work. I'd like to paraphrase one of the last lines of Somerset Maugham's The Razor's Edge: and in the end, they all got exactly what they wanted. This applies to the characters in Omaha and to the people involved, I hope.
Thanks to the Omaha team for more than 30 years of a great comic. It wasn't always easy, but what that's worthwhile is?
Next: Best Comics of 2013, No. 9, courtesy of the WPA.

Afterthought: when Reed and Kate returned from Disneyland (it might have been Disney World), they had picked up some of those giant cartoon mouse hands. As I left my internship duties at their place one afternoon, Reed held out a hand encased by a four-fingered glove. We shook paws, grinning from ear to ear.
Now that's a nice goodbye.

Best Comics of 2013, no. 11: Mars Attacks Popeye

This one-shot really grabbed me. Part of a series expanding the Mars Attacks card line from the early 1960s, Mars Attacks Popeye was the first chapter of this crazy opus. Subsequent entries featured Kiss, the Real Ghostbusters, Transformers and Zombies vs. Robots. But the Popeye issue was the only one that interested me!

Page One of my copy, with signatures of Martin Powell and Terry Beatty sketch!

There just seemed such a charm to this idea when applied to Popeye. I've spoken previously of my respect for Roger Landridge's work on IDW's Popeye, but here IDW turns the writing chores over to The Goon creator Martin Powell (annotation: I was reminded by Terry Beatty that Martin Powell was not the creator of The Goon. That was Eric Powell. Sloppy research on my part, sorry!), who captures the spirit of the character admirably. While many see Segar in this issue, and there's plenty of that to see, I interpret it as more of an homage to the Bud Sagendorf stories- a bit longer and more wildly colored, with the limited palette and (in this case, simulated) sloppy production techniques associated with pre-1970s comics.

Terry Beatty's art delights throughout. The poses and layouts are classic Sagendorf. Much as I revere the work of Segar, his layouts were pretty straightforward, and mostly intended for daily or Sunday papers. While this does adhere to a fairly conventional grid, it's more akin to a comic book page than to a strip page, and Segar worked almost exclusively on the strips.

The 2 x 3 grid is a classic for humorous adventure strips. As Reed Waller once pointed out to me, the 2 x 4 grid is somehow more effective for humor books, but this works. 

It's great to see the Thimble Theater cast working through their paces in this, although I was disappointed by the slight use of the Jeep. Then again, if he were used to full potential, the Jeep would make Popeye's presence unnecessary. 

The use of Sea Hag as collaborator with the Martians is reminiscent of the Plunder island story. Another irritant: I would have liked to see a bit more of her pet vulture, Bernard.

But these are minot quibbles. The story is there. The excitement is there. And the energy is certainly there!

Yeah, I left this page crooked. Somehow it seemed right.

The front covers of these books simulated cards from the series, and the back covers were the backs of the cards- a very fun touch!

A few years ago, there was a Starman/Congorilla team-up from DC- a fun book that touched on something larger. Mars Attacks Popeye is right in the ballpark with that. 

It needs to be noted that every issue of the Mars Attacks crossover series had alternate covers featuring other characters and titles. The alternates for the Popeye volume were a mediocre cover featuring the unnecessarily revived Miss Fury and a very fun Mars Attacks Opus by Berke Breathed. Other alternative covers of note included Mars Attacks Chew and Mars Attacks Strangers in Paradise!
Next: a Best of 2013 entry that will make you purr with joy.

Best Comics of 2013, No. 12: A Distant Soil

Still trying to catch up from a couple days' illness. Only two behind, so three tomorrow would do it if I can manage it.
My lists tend to be dominated by older works and revivals. This is not to slight new work. I'll add any work that I think makes the cut, regardless of age. But there are so many great newer works by established creators, it would be wrong to neglect them. I've toyed with the idea of doing a separate list of older and newer creators, but drawing the line becomes arbitrary.
Today's offering is a delight.
I've written in the past of my admiration for the art, writing and professionalism of Colleen Doran. Like many, I was first exposed to her work on A Distant Soil as a backup feature in Elfquest, before the Pinis gave the story its own title. I thought it quite good even then, though those issues hardly stand up to the standard she's since set.
As a case in point, this is from the first issue of the current run.

After seeing a self-published run from Aria Press, followed by a run at Image Comics, the title went on hiatus for some years, mostly due to Doran's other commitments. This year, it resurfaced, promising to complete its SF/fantasy storyline at long last.

Cover of the digital edition of No. 42

The book retains its strongest elements: tight if often labyrinthine plotting (that's good, in case you're unsure), consistently strong and empathetic characters (even the villains, of which there are plenty), precise and ornate drawing, and tons of action.

All appears lost for our heroes and the rebel forces they lead. But all is never as it seems. My favorite character, Dmer, has proven to be much more complex than I had originally seen.
I'm deliberately talking in generalities to avoid spoilers. This is one story you really must fully appreciate on your own.
And luckily, you can. Doran has undertaken the dual projects of completing the story and creating a series of remastered collections of the work. As her blog is linked here, it's easy enough to keep up with her progress by the old click of a button.
And it's worthwhile to do so. Doran's insights on the process and the business of comics are a master class in themselves. She spends at least as much effort on marketing as she does on the work, or so it seems from the outside. I've purchased art from her in the past, and circumstances permitting, will again.
And she does both admirably, thank you very much. With canny success, she's cross-marketed to the digital market, and used original art sales and auctions quite successfully to continue promotion of her work. I can well imagine her last words being the same as those of Tezuka: "for the love of God, let me keep working!"
While I'm a couple issues behind on this as well (again, pesky finances), I have noted that the plot has reached the point at which all hell breaks loose. Lots of action with dire consequences for all concerned. Doran's characterization is a perfect embodiment of Robert McKee's three levels of conflict: inner, personal (based in relationships) and social (the character's conflicts with society as a whole, including the larger implications of the character's actions). Every move made by every character incorporates all three of these levels. I don't think this is a deliberate construction on Doran's part, so much as it is a reflection of her understanding of the things that make people tick.

All that aside, this meets my primary criteria for a great comic. It's a very engaging read. There's a genuine excitement to opening every issue!
A Distant Soil always has been and it's only improved through the years. Now, as it winds towards its denouement, Doran is at the top of her craft.
Next: Best Comics No. 11, offering more space adventures, but with sea hags.

Original Art Sundays No. 173: Q. Gordyn Babcock, Freelance Shaman

Well, the next page of Surrealist Cowgirls is done. And scanned. But the scan didn't save, for some bizarre reason.
I reiterate: grr.
Since we're so close to the end of the story, and I have two more stories (and a recipe page!) plotted, I'll try to do a double header next week to make it up to my faithful readers.
Meanwhile, this is a related page. Some years back, I was working on an entry for Dark Horse's online comic competition, building a story out of one of the other characters in the Cowgirls world, Q. Gordyn Babcock, Freelance Shaman. The story later served as the core of one of my 24 hour projects.
But I was always happy with that first page. I chose the format based on being proportional to the dimensions given for the web page, and it worked out to be a very nice Sunday strip format. Despite my happiness with it, I never returned to the format or the story.
Here it is for your enjoyment. I don't know if I'll include it in the Cowgirls comic or not. It's a good page, but kind of a one-off.

Next: Surrealist Cowgirls, at last!

Best Comics of 2013, No. 13: The Black Beetle!

A couple days behind on these, due to illness. I will catch up today and tomorrow.
Some things I keep returning to, and have all my life: superheroes, film noir, 1940s motifs. I'm especially keen on the non-powered vigilante superhero. I've made no secret of my admiration for Doc Savage, the Shadow and the Rocketeer (my constantly back-burner superheroine The Kiss is in large part a response to the sexism in stories from those eras and genres).
I was tickled by Francesco Francavilla's The Black Beetle, from Dark Horse.

Tight, moody writing. Art that is both innovative and in service to the story, with layout elements at times echoing period pieces. An urgent yet detached hero with a backstory that's integral to the plot. Way cool weapons. And so much more!
While I wasn't paying a lot of attention, I've been admiring Francavilla's art for years, first in the neglected revolutionary war superhero/spy story The Black Coat, then on Matt Wagner's Zorro and a fill-in issue of Jason Asala's Scalped. His work has a confidence and an urgency that serve it well, and he seems most at home working on period material.
I'm pleasantly surprised that he writes as well as he draws. Though there are a reasonable number who do both well, it's still less common than excelling in one or the other.
Based on a napkin sketch from some years earlier, The Black Beetle was begun as a blog project in 2006, and picked up by Dark Horse for publication in Dark Horse Presents in 2009, followed by a 2013 minieseries. A handsome hardcover collected edition appeared in October 2013. With a new miniseries scheduled for early this year, we can eagerly anticipate yet another hardcover edition, and - dare we hope?- a beautiful Omnibus edition down the road!
This is the stuff of pulps, cliffhanger dramas full of lush color and over-the-top action, coupled with the story of a hunt for a great Maguffin, a scarab, and a delightful if underused villain, Labyrntino (great name!), the story engages on every level.
I mentioned the coloring. Francavilla does his own coloring, and he's every bit as subtle as the best. He controls his color schemes tightly, usually working in a very subdued range that makes the warm tones really pop, much as the Pander Brothers did on their early Grendel run.
I read this through our friends at the Public Library, as I did with many books this year. But I will be adding it to my personal library as soon as I'm able. Ideally that Ominbus edition will be out by then!

Cover for first issue of next series!

Next: Best of 2013, No. 12 returns from the distance...

Best Comics of 2013, No. 14: Bad Houses

I turn 60 in just under seven weeks. More and more, I find that my views of adolescent narratives shift. Yes, I fully accept that people in their teens and early twenties are people, and that their skills and insights are a constant surprise.  But sometimes, especially when I read some of a seemingly infinite number of graphic novels pandering to them, I suspect that Sue Ann Nivens may have been right in that old episode of the Mary Tyler Moore Show: at that age,their interests are shallow and their lives are boring.
Unfair, yes, but it's a judgment on the work about the kids, not about the kids.
Now, there are always strong works within this difficult subgenre. I almost picked Blue is the Warmest Color for this spot on the list. But there was just one cliche too many, the worst offender being the doomed lover angle and its subtext that if you dare to love someone of the same sex, you will die. I thought that was a bad idea when I was first exposed to it in queer porn in the late 70s, and it has NOT improved with age.
I had given up on finding a good book about that age group this year, when along came Bad Houses.

The work of Sara Ryan and Carla Speed McNiel, Bad Houses touches on many themes that resonate with my own adolescence and my subsequent life: rural living, broken homes, missing fathers, dysfunctional parenting, and collecting and hoarding.
More than anything, Bad Houses is about what we take with us and who those choices make us. I'm very familiar with Carla Speed McNeil's work through her enthralling and ongoing  SF magnum opus FINDER (and kudos to Dark Horse for the Ominbus editions!) and with her brief stint on Queen & Country, and quite frankly, her working on this book was my first attraction to it. Having seen the approach she uses to make the mythic plausible, I was curious as to how she'd approach more conventional subject matter.
I didn't expect to get so swept up in the story.
As I've noted, sometimes my bias regarding work aimed at this market leads me to overlook things, though I read Joanna Draper Carlson's blog religiously in an ongoing attempt to not miss anything truly worthwhile. She's turned me on to several fine works, one of which will be discussed later in this year's list.  In any case, this bias has caused me to miss much of Sara Ryan's work, though I do cherish my first printing of her early work Me and Edith Head.

As such, I enjoyed the emotional whirlwind of the no longer a boy but not quite a man Lewis as his life intersects with that of Anne, still young but forced to be the parent to her obsessive hoarder mother. Lewis helps his mother run her business, Cat's Matchless Estate Sales. During a sale, Anne takes shelter in a room marked "private" to pore over an old photo album, fascinated.
Trying to clear the place at the end of the day's business, Lewis walks in.

Inevitably, they become one another's anchors, revealing pieces of their shame and isolation based puzzles to each other and to themselves in the process. There's also a subplot dealing with the fear of aging, one dealing with loss and resentment, the story of Lewis' long-gone father.
And stuff. This book talks about people and their use/abuse of stuff.

How we see our stuff says a great deal about how we see ourselves. 

The nightmare scenario of any hoarder, a fire, happens in this story. While its outcome is surprising and saddening, it's also inevitable and very true to many such characters I've known.

I have some hoarder in me. I suspect every collector does. My mother had a lot more in her. Seeing Anne's mother wrestle to hold on to every slip of paper going back decades "in case there's a problem" reminds me of her so much. I wonder what it says about this country that there are enough people who resonate with that experience to make this #95 on Amazon's Graphic Novels bestseller list. There's so much to recommend here. The down on his luck rural badass character avoids being a cliche´; there's an odd vulnerability to the extreme assholiness of the character AJ, not so much that you want him to succeed in his half-brained, selfish, pointless and destructive schemes, but enough that you want him to turn himself around, even when you know it's an evolutionary unlikelihood.

Carla Speed McNeil's art shines here. She uses her characteristic loose yet confident blacks and just enough background detail to bring the scene, and the town, to life. And her character design, a clear strength in her SF work, is noteworthy here. One of the things about working in the realm of the fantastic is that since you're dealing entirely with the imaginary, there are a great many places where nobody can tell you that you got it wrong. Some artists (not Ms. McNeil) use that as a crutch. If anyone was fool enough to include her in that number, however, she's acquitted herself admirably here. It's much more challenging to create something real plausibly than it is to do so with something unreal. Carla Speed McNeil sets a higher standard here.

As I drove up North for Christmas with my family, my thoughts turned inevitably to the past. But this year they were also on this book, which some will be getting as a present next year.

Small towns, dysfunctional families, stuff. You know. Life.

Next: Best of 2013, Number 13: something old, something new, something black.

Best Comics of 2013 No. 15: The Mysterious Strangers

Well, here we go with another year-end countdown. I prefer to do these day by day rather than all at once, as most folks do.
First up, a book I was initially exposed to during Free Comic Book Day. Oni Press' The Mysterious Strangers is an era- specific pastiche: early 1960s superheroes, spies and rock & roll, in a nonstop action package.

Within the first three issues, we've had Mayan intrigue reminiscent of the pulps (early Doc Savage comes to mind here), a superpowered spy team (our title heroes), a not-so-thinly veiled Beatles  homage, and a very cool riff on my beloved Doctor Strange! There are hints of X-Files (and by extension, the X-Files' inspiration, Kolchak, the Night Stalker), coloring and art reminiscent of Ditko and Mike Allred courtesy of Scott Kowalchuk, and some terse if dated writing by Chris Roberson.
Yes, the whole thing is incredibly silly. And it isn't really about anything.
I don't care.
It's become fashionable for all (ahem) serious comics to be crawling with profundities and deep insights on the meaning of (fill in you pet message here). And  (cough) SERIOUS comic readers are expected to follow suit. But I see nothing wrong with well-crafted escapist fiction.
If that's not your cuppa, so be it. But life is plenty hard enough. While art and literature and cinema and comics and films (and on and on) do help to direct and inform our lives, there are plenty of times when you just need to take a break and take some comfort in a really wild, well-told story.You can parse anything for its deeper meanings and usually find some, but give it a break once in a while. The Mysterious Strangers is a really smart book that's a great getaway.
The sentiment is best summed up in this sequence from Scott McCloud's ZOT!

Tomorrow: Number 14, safe as houses!

Original Art Sundays No.172: traditional airbrush: The Addams Family poster

Next Cowgirls page is written and penciled, will get to the inks and the scans directly now that the holidays are over. It's a very fun but very strange page.
Here's a very old piece. Done as a teaser poster for the first Universal Addams Family film, circa 1991 or so, this was pre-Photoshop. The illustration is traditional airbrush, and the text and logo are white stats (for those who remember stat cameras!) dry transferred to a mylar overlay.
I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm glad I know Photoshop, but I'm just as glad I know something about traditional methods.

Very simple technique: large matte with soft edges, a few lines using a handheld mask a la burn and dodge, and some soft lines for the backlight, then the overlay and a soft gray matte.
Of course, in the film it was Christopher Lloyd, not Jackie Cooper, but I worked with the images I had, pulling a photo from a book on science fiction TV as a reference.
Next week: Surrealist Cowgirls!