Visible Links : Andrew Alexander’s “Screened In Exile”

Posted on March 29, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

And so, dear friends, I return — and what a ‘zine to end the my little hiatus with! Brooklyn-based cartoonist Andrew Alexander has been impressing your host/critic with his self-published diary comics for the last couple/few years, but as unlikely-at-first-glance as it may seem, his latest Cram Books-published collection of charcoal drawings depicting scenes from various movies and TV shows on heavy construction-type paper, Screened In Exile, is, if anything, even more personal in nature than his memoir-oriented work. That’s because these aren’t “just” drawings — they’re drawings with a story behind them and a purpose to them.

Which, I suppose, is my cue to elaborate a bit more, but why listen to me blather on when the artist himself explains things far better than I ever could? And so we now, unbeknownst to him, turn the floor over to Mr. Alexander —

What’s equally remarkable to the compelling backstory that informs this collection, though, is the degree to which Alexander captures not only the essential character of, but his own emotive responses to, memorable instances from Jackie Brown, Cool Hand Luke, The Long Goodbye, Mean Streets — hell, even such generally-more-middling fare as Justified and Mad Men. Alexander’s perspective, and the circumstances behind it, result in a truly immersive experience for readers, one informed by factors both within and without the content being delineated and communicating something very much like what it means to watch a film or TV program from someone else’s vantage point. Simply put, you’ll recognize most of what’s in here, but you’ve never seen it like this before.

Which brings us, in a very real sense, to a language barrier of sorts — not that this ‘zine is printed in French or Spanish or something, mind you, no : this barrier is both more subtle and more impenetrable. I guess what’s I’m struggling to say is that Alexander’s drawings don’t evoke feelings that are easily translated into words so much as they just evoke, well, feelings themselves — sensory memories that are sifted through the prism of someone else entirely and reflected back in ways as utterly new as they are utterly familiar. Again, the best method of demonstration is probably for me to just shut up for a second and provide a sample page —

Droll details can’t capture the sheer intent that literally seethes from these pages, as anyone who’s ever spent time looking at strictly photo-referenced illustrations can tell you. I’d be curious, in fact, to know how many of these were drawn from sheer memory alone and how many relied on the aid of a remote control “pause” button, but maybe it doesn’t matter all that much in the final analysis : after all, honesty and exactitude are hardly one and the same thing. Alexander’s representations of media occupy a space all their own, his space, and in that space, artistic methodologies and artistic outcomes are intertwined in ways that transcend the simple equation of “well, I did this in order to produce that.” Am eloquent explication of what those ways are again leads me to a linguistic impasse, but I’m okay with that : after all, a good magician never reveals his or her tricks, and I’d be lying through my teeth if I said there wasn’t something very akin to magic going on in this book.

As a critic, then, am I inadequate to the task of telling you why this is such a special collection — one that I freely admit to having spent several hours poring over? Well, perhaps, but I guess we all meet our match at some point. And while closing this review by paraphrasing Jack Kirby’s famous “Don’t Ask — Just Buy It!” tag line is arguably less than a work this wholly remarkable deserves, it also seems oddly appropriate, because asking too many questions ruins the spell Alexander casts here, and you really do need to buy it.

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Screened In Exile is available for $10.00 from the Cram Books website at https://www.cram-books.com/product/screened-in-exile

Also, this review is “brought to you” by my Patreon site, where I serve up exclusive thrice-weekly rants and ramblings on the worlds of comics, films, television, literature, and politics for as little as a dollar a month. And yes, I always keep it updated, even when I’m taking a break from this site. Subscribing is the best way to support my continuing work, so I’d be very appreciative indeed if you’d take a moment to check it out by directing your kind attention to https://www.patreon.com/fourcolorapocalypse

Great Moments In Comic Book History #22: Alex Ross Captures Spider-Man

Posted on March 25, 2022 by Jedadiah Leland

This is from the 4th issue of 1994’s Marvels, in which Kurt Busiek reimagined the early history of the Marvel Universe through the eyes of photographer, Phil Sheldon. The artwork is by the amazing Alex Ross.

On this page, Spider-Man is climbing up the Daily Bugle. That’s something that happened frequently in Spider-Man’s own comics but Marvels was the first comic to capture what it would be like for the ordinary people inside the building to suddenly look over and see Spider-Man, complete with a wrinkled suit, climbing up the outside windows. Long before any of the movies were released or the PS4 game meticulously recreated New York, this page from Marvels made Spider-Man seem real.

Previous Great Moments In Comic Book History:

Everybody Loves A Happy Ending : Corinne Halbert’s “Acid Nun” #3

Posted on March 3, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

In the immortal (at least by my admittedly inexpert estimation) words of the just-recently-reemerged Roland Orzabal, “Don’t you just love a happy ending? Yeah, well so do I.” And if I may add a caveat of my own to that lyric : I especially love them when they’re earned.

And if there’s anyone who has earned one, it’s our titular Acid Nun herself, Annie, who’s travelled through every level of cosmic hell and then some in her search for reunification with cohorts/lovers Elinore and (yes, that) Baphomet, and in many ways the worst is yet to come in the pages of the newly-self-published Acid Nun #3 — but so, thankfully, is delicious comeuppance and joyous homecoming. I know, I know — sic the spoiler police on me.

Still, in my defense, I’ll say that I’m deliberately treading lightly here in terms of specific plot details, and really the plot’s never been a complex affair in Halbert’s now-concluded trilogy anyway — its themes, however, certainly are, given that they revolve around abuse, alienation, longing, self-acceptance and self-love, and even (to the consternation of some, I’m sure) the “big two” of sex and death. Primarily, though, I think Halbet’s principal concern — one filtered through her own utterly unique view of various pagan and pagan-adjacent magickal traditions (most especially, this time out, the tarot) and genuinely decadent blend of the sexual and the psychedelic — is exploring what it really means to be your own, authentic self, and to make your metaphorical home within that inviolable sphere that you create.

Talking of home — they do say that’s where the heart is, and in Halbert’s case that means it’s right here in these pages. She mentions in her afterword (by the way, the “bonus” material here also includes stunning pin-up artwork by Haleigh Buck, Katie Skelly, and Dead Meat Design) that she put her all into this project, but with all due respect, there was no need to say so : the proof was there in every layout, ever line, every design, and certainly in every color choice. This has been one of the most visually arresting comics in recent memory from the outset, and the degree to which Halbert has seen each sumptuously-rendered page as a challenge to herself to keeping upping the creative ante is equal parts obvious and awe-inspiring. Flipping back through the first two issues in preparation for reading this finale was literally a process of charting and mapping one artist’s growth (both in terms of technique and, more importantly, confidence) right in plain sight.

I know, I know, I’m gushing like a fanboy, but my goodness, just look at the pages included with this review that I lazily (but legally) purloined from Halbert’s own website — is there any reason why I shouldn’t be? The care and craft that went into creating these images, these characters, this universe is really something to behold, as well as something to treasure. Sure, there is plenty on offer both in this issue specifically and in this series as a whole that will challenge and perhaps upset (before ultimately rewarding, I promise) survivors of awful shit and send the prudish and uptight to the medicine cabinet for a suppository, but most worthwhile art prods, protests, and provokes as a matter of course. Halbert has plenty to say about patriarchy, repression, subjugation, intolerance, and other oppressive forces — but in the end, she beats them all with love. For her story, for her characters, for her art, for her readers (yes, that means you) and, above all, for herself.

“And all your love will shine for everyone” seems the apropos thing to say at this juncture, just to bring things back to where we started this review. Halbert’s love is shining for everyone in this comic, so go on and be good to yourself. Buy it, read it, and love it right back.

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Acid Nun #3 is available for $12 directly from Corinne Halbert at https://corinnehalbert.bigcartel.com/product/acid-nun-no-3

Also, this review is “brought to you” by my Patreon site, where I serve up exclusive thrice-weekly rants and ramblings on the worlds of comics, films, television, literature, and politics for as little as a dollar a month. Subscribing is the best way to support my continuing work, so I’d be very appreciative if you’d take a moment to give it a look by directing your kind attention to https://www.patreon.com/fourcolorapocalypse

A “Vessel” For Experimentation, Innovation, Inspiration

Posted on March 1, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

It’s interesting how things work out sometimes. Earlier today, I was having a “conversation” via twitter about the necessity of people who are generally thought of as being “outside” comics coming into our hopefully-happy little medium, making some sort of statement with it via their art for however long a period of time they wish, and then deciding whether or not they want to stick around, or go on to do other things. By my thinking, it’s always good to have a fresh set of eyes approach comics with no preconceived notions of what they “should” or “shouldn’t,” “can” or “can’t” do, if for no other reason than to shake up the sensibilities of those who have very definite ideas in regards to these subjects and others. Words and pictures in juxtaposition can do, be, or express anything, as I think we all know on some level — sometimes it just requires a comics novice, or even a temporary comics tourist, to remind us of that.

Enter the husband-and-wife team of Lily Thu Fierro and Generoso Fierro and their gorgeous, emotive, formally experimental new self-published ‘zine Vessel, a feast for the eyes and mind that weaves together dream, memory, and medicine into a beautiful but frightening quasi-hallucinatory tapestry that references no particular artistic influences outside of itself and doesn’t so much discard the rulebook as remain blissfully unaware of its existence. This is a comic that exists in a category all its own, which is to say : it really can’t — and shouldn’t — be categorized at all.

The division of labor on this obvious labor of love is in no way clear — I couldn’t tell you who drew it, who wrote it, or if they both did some of each — but in a way that makes a kind of thematic and artistic sense, as the demarcations between the “real” and “unreal” in this work are fluid, transitory, amorphous — a thickening cardiovascular wall is a recurring theme that grounds the work in linear time, but beyond that it’s fair to say all bets are off as past, present, and pure imagination dance around each other via a series of lushly-shaded colored pencil illustrations accompanied by a minimalist, economic interior monologue. There is a sense of our narrator/protagonist, Kim, existing apart from, outside, maybe even above her own body, of being both participant and observer of the vaguely-defined research study she’s participating in, and yet she never feels disconnected from either herself or events — there is intimacy in this alienation, and alienation in this intimacy.

As a result, what we have here is a unique approach to the art of the visual narrative, one that isn’t necessarily mysterious by definition, but plenty open to interpretation regardless — my one word of caution would be against trying to assemble this in start-to-finish order of occurrence on first reading and just letting this work take you where you feel it’s taking you. Trust me when I say you won’t be in the least bit confused by it, even while you have a tricky time describing it. As evidenced, I should think, by this review itself, which I’ve gotta admit is a slow-going thing on my end as I try my level best to communicate not so much the particulars of this work, but the sensations engendered by it.

Hell, I’m halfway tempted to ask “how’m I doing at that so far?,” but that would rather defeat the purpose. This is, you see, a comic that takes you places, and the most exciting thing about it is that they’re largely places you haven’t been before, and therefore lack a proper frame of reference for trying to express in purely verbal terms. Initially, I’d be inclined to say that means I’ve met my match here, but I prefer to think of it as having found a work (okay, been sent a work) that has done what very few others have : left me utterly speechless. I’m not sure if I should be grateful for that — but I can tell you in no uncertain terms that I am.

I don’t know much about these creators, other than what I’ve been able to piece together from their website. I take it they host a weekly radio show largely specializing in old-school ska and that Lily has a passing interest in comics, at least according to one of the posts they have up on there. What I do know for certain is this : even if they never make another comic themselves, they’ve given this medium a gift that can probably never be fully repaid.

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Vessel is available for $18 from Austin English’s Domino Books distro at http://dominobooks.org/vessel.html

Check out Lily and Generoso’s website at https://lilyandgeneroso4ever.com/about/

How ‘Bout Them “Apples”?

Posted on February 24, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

Desmond Reed is a New England cartoonist whose work I’d been borderline fascinated with since first coming across his self-published debut, Those Dark New Hampshire Woods, some years ago, but it was his later ‘zine The Funnies that pushed that fascination over the border — in fact, it’s fair to say the short-form adventures of his eminently-flexible coterie of lovable goofballs positively hooked me, and so I was gratified to see their return in his latest (also self-published) mini, Apples, which builds on the strengths of its predecessor without in any way appreciably upsetting the — errrrmmmm — apple cart. Sorry.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for breaking with formula and tradition, but when you’ve got a good thing going, seriously — what’s the point? And so our fictitious friends Wallace T.J., Mona Gertrude, Ralph Jonathan, Gil Christopher, and Henrietta Susan are back, and doing what they do best, which is to say, serving as lovable comedic ciphers to the shit we all went through at one point in our lives — or may still be going through, if you’re fortunate enough to be a couple of decades younger than your curmudgeonly critic here.

Nominal personal growth appears to have occurred among our cast since their last go-’round, but it’s kinda hard to tell, and not especially relevant either way — which sounds like a “diss” (or whatever) but isn’t, given that it’s their relatable reactions to exaggerated situations and/or exaggerated reactions to relatable situations that give this comic its charm aplenty, so “character arcs” of any sort are rather surplus to requirements here. Quick-fire vignettes about popular themes like drug use, depression, co-habitation, shit jobs, and everyday life’s little highs and lows are the order of the day, then, and while that may not sound terribly ambitious, few do them better than does Reed, so seriously — check your coolness at the door and just relax and have fun.

Ah, yes — that dread word. Some time back certain quarters of the comics community (those who take it upon themselves to police the medium’s general trajectory for reasons known only to themselves) decided that “fun” was an outmoded concept and that cartoonists should be aiming their sights “higher,” but I’ve never gotten on board with myself that since fun is, ya know, fun. I’m pleased to report Reed appears to have ignored this unspoken dictate as well, and has instead honed his comedic chops and gently acerbic sense of timing to its full potential and is now ready to stand as one of the more unique funnybook-makers in the contemporary scene. The self-appointed “intelligentsia” may consider that to be a truly trivial pursuit, but who the hell cares? Around these parts, we ain’t ashamed to admit that good times are a good thing.

Which isn’t to say this comic doesn’t skirt around the edges of “heavier” material, but it does so in a way that’s still designed, ultimately, to be more reflective of the struggles of its readership (and perhaps even its creator) than it is downright exploratory, to offer sympathy and reassurance via commonality of experience rather than to take deep dives into deep issues and deep problems. This is a comic that knows who you are, or were, and is here to meet you on the home turf you share with it. There’s a time and place for taxing and challenging work, absolutely, but when you need a break from all that but still don’t care to be condescended to? You can’t do a whole lot better than this.

It’s no exaggeration to say I’m flat-out enamored with Reed’s squiggly world and hope to have a chance to visit again soon — until then, though, I’m content to re-read this comic whenever I could use a pick-me-up. Even knowing all the gags, punchlines, and twists of fate, a visit with old friends is still, and always will be, well worth a person’s time.

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Apples is available for $5.00 from J.T. Yost’s Birdcage Bottom Books distro at https://birdcagebottombooks.com/products/apples?variant=41000348811440

Also, this review is “brought to you” by my Patreon site, where I serve up exclusive thrice-weekly rants and ramblings on the worlds of comics, films, television, literature, and politics for as little as a dollar a month. Subscribing is the best way to support my continuing work, so I’d be very appreciative if you took a moment to give it a look by directing your kind attention to : https://www.patreon.com/fourcolorapocalypse

To Boldly Go — : Alexander Laird’s “Oubliette”

Posted on February 23, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

Purely as physical objects, Alexander Laird’s self-published comics are things of exquisite beauty : lovingly riso-printed, uniquely formatted, conceptualized to a degree that’s flat-out exacting, they stand as a testament to both dedication and determination in equal measure, their execution representing an inherently harmonious marriage with the singular creative vision behind them. I honestly don’t know of any cartoonist who works as hard at holistically integrating the creative with the technical, whose inner artist is so “in tune” with their outer artisan. Each of Laird’s books has the look and feel of an object carefully made by hand.

That being said, anything that is presented this well needs, by default, to feature content that lives up to its presentation, and that can be tough when you’re pulling out all the stops as far as production values go. Laird’s latest, Burg Land 1 : Sleemore Gank, certainly earned high marks across the board from me, but his earlier effort, Oubliette, leaves perhaps a bit to be desired on that score — but is still plenty fascinating as a prima facie example of a legit autuer finding their footing as they go along and developing the themes that would come to be regarded as central concerns in their work.

Stated less pretentiously, this feels like a “warm-up exercise” for ideas and approaches that would eventually end up becoming fleshed out more fully later. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that — in fact, it’s crystal clear that Laird’s been in firm possession of a vision for what he wants to achieve in this medium from the outset, it’s simply that this largely-wordless tale of explorer/academic Jest The Scholar venturing through the ruins of a thought-lost civilization and having to survive a monstrous onslaught of, well, monsters is, all told, a less-thoroughly-realized version of what this same cartoonist would do next.

Which, I admit, makes this review something of an unfair exercise on its face — after all, if I’d read this first, I might very well have been blown away by it, rather than “merely” being mightily impressed. On the plus side, though, there’s no question that I did still find it mightily impressive, so if Laird happens to read this at some point, trust me when I say : a win is a win. I still found this to be a remarkable work in the truest sense. And while I may not recommend it as highly as Burg Land 1: Sleemore Gank, I think its status as a kind of blueprint for that comic means that it could very well especially be of interest to those who, like myself, read the latter first.

Or am I wrong about that? I mean, if you’re a Laird “newbie,” this is certainly a great place to start and it gives you a flavor for his utterly unique methodologies and sensibilities. By turns frightening and fun, and drawn in a style that both reflects and magnifies the ultimately-optimistic outlook of its insatiably curious protagonist, it’s a comic about learning and exploration that learns and explores the medium’s formalities and, more importantly, its possibilities in unison with its narrative. I invoked the term “holistic” earlier, and there’s absolutely no doubt that this is a breathtaking working example of that principle writ — and drawn — large.

Lest there be any misunderstanding, then : this is not a recommendation tempered by any sort of caution — it’s an enthusiastic and unreserved one. Sure, I liked Burg Land 1 : Sleemore Gank a bit more, but so what? I liked that more than just about anything I’ve read recently, and the list of “stuff I didn’t like quite as much” includes a lot of damn fine comics. This is one of them and, furthermore, one of the better ones at that.

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Oubliette is available for $12.00 from Alexander Laird’s website at https://sensitiveathletes.bigcartel.com/product/oubliette

Also, this review is “brought to you” by my Patreon site, where I serve up exclusive thrice-weekly rants and ramblings on the worlds of comics , films, television, literature, and politics for as little as a dollar a month. Subscribing is the best way to support my continuing work, so I’ve be very appreciative indeed if you’d take a moment to give it a look by directing your kind attention to https://www.patreon.com/fourcolorapocalypse

The Otherside Of Madness : Andrew Zakolodny’s “Deadnauts”

Posted on February 22, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

I’ve seen some wild shit in my time as a comics critic, but for sheer conceptual bravado, few things can match Ukrainian cartoonist Andrew Zakolodny’s new Strangers-published surreal mindfuck Deadnauts, a combustible admixture of high-concept science fiction, drug-addled paranoia, black humor, militaristic uber-violence, and gross-out body horror — among other things. If you’re even remotely squeamish, this is a book you want less than zero to do with. But, hey, if you’re not —

Well, if you’re not, one of the first things you’ll learn is that the curious term “otherside” in this review’s title is no misprint — it’s a place beyond death, or maybe that should be the place beyond death, and serves as the extra-dimensional battlefield which much of Zakolodny’s story takes place in. We’ve all heard of suicide bombers who believe they’ll live eternally after death, but the terrorists in this yarn know it because they actually go there — or part of them does, at any rate. They’re in possession, you see, of some sort of largely-unexplained (probably because it’s flat-out inexplicable) occult technology that allows them to project their consciousness over to this “otherside” in hopes of affecting some kind of takeover of the place, which sounds to me like it’d be a pretty tough thing to organize any kind of opposition or resistance to — unless, ya know, people are willing to die to go over there and stop them. Good luck getting volunteers for that.

Still, this is comics — since when does logic apply? So, yeah — if you’re getting the idea that “death is just the beginning” here, you’re getting the right idea. Because the otherside is so fucked up that it’s actually enough to make a person — or any sort of life form — wish they were alive again. Yes, even the members of the special forces (or whatever) team that goes over to stop the dastardly terrorists — a team full of individuals who are all technically suicidal by definition. I told you this book was effing crazy.

What I’ll also tell you is that it’s crazy in the best possible way — you’ll never know what’s coming next because you can barely figure out what’s going on right now, and even when you do get something resembling a kind of metaphorical footing, you’ll find it’s ripped out from under you pretty quickly. Zakolodny is a master at not just keep you off-balance, but keeping you off your rocker — if he were a prize fighter, his first punch would be a TKO and he’d pummel you repeatedly after the bell just to make good and sure you didn’t get up off the mat. Your job, then, as a reader, is to learn to enjoy the beating.

Which, believe it or not, isn’t actually all that tough a task. The art in this comic is arresting and addictive, all inky blacks and squiggly lines and imaginative forms and even more imaginative locations — it looks and feels like your worst-ever acid trip committed to paper, only cool. There’s a lot to decipher — both narratively and, especially, visually — but doing so doesn’t feel like work by any stretch, even if it is exceptionally goddamn challenging. I know my readers, though (at least, I like to think I do), and so I know that if you’re not up for a challenge, chances are you’re not paying any attention to this blog in the first place. I mean, who are we kidding? Getting through one of my reviews can sometimes be challenging enough in and of itself.

Is this a qualified recommendation, then? You bet it is. Most are. There are a lot of perfectly rational, nice, fair-minded people who will take one look at Zakolodny’s ‘zine and give it a hard pass. But for those who revel in the refined pleasures of the heretical, the extreme, the foreboding and forbidden — for those who consider “beyond the pale” to be the starting line rather than the off-ramp — this isn’t just memorable, visceral, mind-bending stuff : it’s the kind of comic you live for. Or should that be the kind of comic you die for?

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Deadnauts is available for $7.00 from Strangers at https://strangerspublishing.com/products/deadnauts-by-andrew-zakolodny

Also, this review is “brought to you” by my Patreon site, where I serve up exclusive thrice-weekly rants and ramblings on the worlds of comics, films, television, literature, and politics for as little as a dollar a month. Subscribing is the best way to support my continuing work, so I’d be very appreciative indeed if you’d take a moment to give it a look by directing your kind attention to https://www.patreon.com/fourcolorapocalypse

Great Moments In Comic Book History #21: Captain America For President

Posted on February 21, 2022 by Jedadiah Leland

In 1980, John Anderson was briefly a viable third party presidential candidate so it made sense that Marvel would come up with a storyline in which a group of activists attempt to convince Captain America to make a third party bid of his own. When The Daily Globe broke the news that Captain America was being courted by the New Populist Party, both the Democrats and the Republicans offered to nominate him. The Beast offered to be his campaign manager. (Imagine that!) The Wasp said that Captain America was the people’s choice. Iron Man warned that the red tape would get frustrating while the always logical Vision argued that, other than having a patriotic spirit, Captain America knew nothing about politics and international relations.

As a patriot, Captain America was tempted though, in typical Marvel fashion, his actual positions were kept vague. Ultimately, Cap turned down their offer because he felt that it was important that he remain above the pettiness of partisan politics. Captain America was meant to protect all the people of America, regardless of whether they voted for Ronald Reagan, Jimmy Carter, John Anderson, Ed Clark, Barry Commoner, or even Gus Hall!

(In the end, the activists approached the wrong Avenger. Despite what he told Cap, Iron Man would have done it in a heartbeat.)

A later issue of What If… revealed that, if Captain America had run, he would have easily been elected President. Then, he would have been assassinated because almost every issue of What If… ended with everyone dead. It’s a good thing he didn’t run. By not running, he not only saved his own life but he also set a precedent that has kept a countless number of super powered individual from taking the plunge into electoral politics. It didn’t stop J. Jonah Jameson from running for mayor of New York but I doubt anything could have.

Could Captain America win the election if he ran today? As a fictional character who has a history of making questionable decisions and who is now over a hundred years old, it’s doubtful. Despite what happened in What If, it was probably just as much of a lost cause in 1980. If Howard the Duck couldn’t beat Carter and Ford in 1976, it’s doubtful Captain America could have beaten both Reagan and Ed Clark in 1980. Still, who better to rebuild America than America himself?

Captain America Vol. 1 No. 250 (October, 1980)

“Cap President”

Writer(s) Roger Stern, Don Perlin, Roger McKenzie, Jim Shooter
Penciler(s) John Byrne, Ed Hannigan
Inker(s) Josef Rubinstein
Colorist(s) George Roussos
Letterer(s) Jim Novak
Editor(s) Jim Salicrup, Bob Budiansky

Previous Great Moments In Comic Book History:

Comics As Unresolved Labyrinth : Bruce Zeines’ “Life Out Of Sequence”

Posted on February 17, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

Confession time : the title of this review isn’t mine. But it sure is good, so I appropriated it — fortunately, from the very book we’re here to take a look at, so I needn’t feel too terribly guilty. And, in truth, the notion of graphic sequential storytelling as an “unresolved labyrinth” is only one of many that stuck with me long after I closed the covers of cartoonist Bruce Zeines’ 2021 self-published opus on the nature of very medium he’s utilizing, Life Out Of Sequence. Time, spatiality, the unique properties and possibilities that a blank page to be populated by juxtaposed words and images offers — Zeines is equally haunted and fascinated by all these things, and so the subtitle of this, the second volume in his “Musings” series, is very apropos indeed : “A Personal Exploration Of Sequential Art.”

I’m tempted to be glib here and say that Zeines accomplishes more in a standard-format (and standard-length) comic book than Scott McCloud did in a “doorstop” graphic novel, but in truth this is no “primer” on the medium a la Understanding Comics, nor is it a de facto “how-to” guide for aspiring cartoonists to take their cues from. The word “Personal” in that subtitle looms large here, as this is Zeines feeling his own way forward through his creative process, and commenting upon it as he does so — not so much a lecture, then, as it is a mapping out of territory that is ever fresh, ever new, ever confounding, ever expansive. Did I just say it was a map? Maybe more like an atlas — but a decidedly theoretical one.

What’s not at all theoretical but is, rather, concrete reality is the power of Zeines’ intensely-rendered and almost obsessively-detailed illustration : he fills every scintilla of space with imaginatively-conveyed visual information that somehow establishes, and subsequently sustains, an incredible naturalistic fluidity in spite of its admittedly crowded-at-first-glance appearance : it’s a lot to take in, sure, but the act of doing so is thrilling, immersive, and never less than consequential. Zeines doesn’t waste a line or a brush stroke any more than he wastes a conceptual thread or a thematic beat — this is story and art both with a purpose and related for a purpose, and while those may seem like they should always be one and the same thing, a masterfully-articulated work such as this makes you realize how often one or the other is either serving a subservient role or, even worse, absent altogether. Not so here — this is a cartoonist at the absolute height of his powers grappling with how to most effectively use them. And, for the record, succeeding marvelously at doing so.

What’s perhaps most remarkable about all of this, though, is the welcoming, accessible, and downright conversational tone that Zeines maintains throughout — these are some heavy issues he’s tackling for those of us with a personal investment in the comics medium, and he’s approaching them with the near-reverential respect they deserve, without ever crossing the line into pretentious gibberish or faux-erudition. Somebody who’s never picked up a comic could enjoy this quite easily, then, but for those of us who pick up hundreds, if not thousands, of them per year? Well, this is the kind of thing that sends us over the damn moon — a dissertation on the form we love, communicated through the form we love, that deepens our admiration of the form we love.

I realize I’m preaching to the choir here, but there’s nothing a person can’t do with words and pictures — as Zeines himself knows full well. Given that, then, the next thing to figure out is how to use words and pictures to their utmost as a storytelling tool. I think it’s something all comics creators and readers grapple with — sometimes consciously, more often unconsciously — and to see it dealt with from a fresh perspective many actually haven’t considered at all is an unexpected joy. I hope I’m not giving away too much here, but Zines’ central thesis is that life itself — and certainly memory — doesn’t actually have a sequential flow, so arranging a visual story in a way that does? Well, it’s a bigger challenge than it would at first appear.

I’ll tell you what, though : this is an artist who’s more than up to that challenge, and probably any other that you can throw his way. And so I’ll close this review with a challenge to you, the reader : find me a flaw in this comic. Anywhere. Because I sure as hell can’t.

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Life Out Of Sequence is available for $15.00 from Austin English’s Domino Books distro at http://dominobooks.org/lifesequence.html

Also, be sure to check out Bruce Zeines’ website at https://www.theartofbrucezeines.com/

A Rough Kind Of Magic : Frances Cordelia Beaver’s “On A Cute One”

Posted on February 16, 2022 by Ryan C. (fourcolorapocalypse)

Can earnestness and heart alone carry a 600-plus-page graphic novel?

It’s a question I’d never thought to ask myself before, but was forced to upon completion of Philadelphia-based cartoonist Frances Cordelia Beaver’s new self-published tome On A Cute One, both because of where and how the book shines and where and how it comes up short. To be clear : what it does well, it does really well, and the ways in which it misses the mark aren’t “deal-breakers” by any stretch, so maybe I’ve answered my own introductory question here already, but nevertheless, let’s dig a bit deeper. After all, this is an ambitious work and has earned the right to be examined closely —

It’s clear right from the copyright indicia here that Beaver is straddling a fine line between memoir and fantasy, in a manner referred to in the literary world as “auto-fiction,” so it’s a given that many of protagonist Cordie’s thoughts, feelings, and experiences are rooted firmly in the artist’s own — but then there’s the whole Gorgon thing she’s got going on so, ya know, expect a fair degree of creative license, as well. Essentially, this is a travelogue relating a cross-country-and-back-again journey Cordie takes on a “Superliner” train (I guess a kind of Amtrak on steroids?), but it’s peppered with flashbacks and reminiscences generally related to her coming out and subsequent process of transition, so in that respect it has some thematic resonances and commonalities with celebrated recent works such as Maia Kobabe’s Gender Queer and L. Nichols’ Flocks — but to Beaver’s credit, she largely eschews delivering a “primer” of sorts on issues relating to the non-binary community in favor of speaking to audiences who may or may not be trans themselves, but at least have a degree of social familiarity with trans individuals. Her narrative starting point, then, is not with early-days gender dysphoria but rather is considerably, for lack of a more readily available term, further down the road. That’s refreshing, as are Beaver’s emotively-articulated points of view on various issues trans folks face, particularly her detailed examination of trans women’s quest for acceptance among cis women, which is a recurring theme here that she deals with in an admirably open, honest, and candid fashion.

In fact, candor in general is something this book certainly doesn’t lack — Beaver’s authorial tone is remarkably frank and has no time for pretense, which is something I think we can all appreciate. What I will say, however, is that she probably could have used the services of an editor here. The pacing of the marrative is generally relaxed and fluid, but every once in awhile she’ll insert a jarring page loaded down with far too much exposition for its own good that puts the breaks on the rhythm of her storytelling, and I also found some of her flashback scenes to be handled a bit — -well, perhaps not so much clumsily as confusedly. There are instances where it’s not really clear at first when something is occurring and again, it seems to me that a pair of editorial eyes could have helped with that.

A couple things worth mentioning vis a vis the always-nebulous “style points” category : a LOT of this book is composed of double-page spreads, and they break right in the middle, as you can see above. Beaver is putting this out via the auspices of Lulu, so there’s probably nothing much that can be done about that, but it’s a shame, because her cartooning is well-thought-out, expressive, quite often imaginative and, when she’s drawing landscapes, flat-out gorgeous. It’s a travesty to see it bisected. One thing more firmly within Beaver’s control that I think lets the side down, though, is her decision to use computer-font lettering. I get it, this is a well and truly homemade project and one only has so much time, but Beaver’s hand lettering (utilized primarily, ironically, when she’s showing Cordie’s phone screen) is superb, and mechanical lettering can’t help but feel sterile and cold, which means in this case that it’s working directly against the otherwise-entirely-heartfelt aesthetics of the book as a whole.

All that being said, perhaps because this is so obviously a labor of love, in some ways I can’t help but find its technical and production “flaws,” as well as some of the overall amateurism on display (there are any number of questionable grammar choices, the monster metaphor at the heart of the narrative is sometimes too oblique for its own good, other times too obvious) to be more than a bit endearing in their own way. I do believe in granting “points for trying,” so while it’s never in doubt that Beaver is clearly “learning on the job,” so to speak, in my estimation that almost always makes for an interesting and exciting ride, even if it’s necessarily a bumpy one. There’s a world of difference between putting it all on the page and pouring your all into a page, and given the choice, I’ll opt for the latter every time — on that most crucial score, this is a book that I can say in all honesty absolutely never fails to deliver.

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On A Cute One is available for $45.50 at https://www.lulu.com/en/us/shop/frances-beaver/on-a-cute-one/paperback/product-685m56.html?page=1&pageSize=4

Check out Frances Cordelia Beaver’s website at https://www.francescordeliabeaver.com/