Bhanu Pratap | Through the Shattered Lens

And so it begins : with the end of the year breathing down our necks, it’s time to take stock of the best (by my estimation, at any rate) comics of 2021, broken down, as usual, into six different categories so as to avoid the goofy shit you find elsewhere — like, say, a 12-page mini having to “compete” against a 400-page graphic novel, or a book of reprinted material being judged by the same standard as all-new stuff. My goal is to get three lists done this week, then do three more next week, beginning with the TOP TEN SINGLE-ISSUE COMICS, which means stand-alone “floppy” comics or minis, or single issues of ongoing series which were one-offs — any series (limited or ongoing) which saw two or more issues released in 2021 will be eligible in the TOP TEN COMICS SERIES category. Sound good? Let’s do this :

10. God Bless The Machine By Connor McCann (Strangers Fanzine) – An acid-trip science fiction conceptual free-for-all that takes dead aim at vapid celebrity worship and global media consolidation while never forgetting to be a ton of fun along the way, McCann’s comic is equal parts timely as hell and decades ahead of its time. If you miss the days when comics were insane, fun and insanely fun, I’ve got good news : they’re back.

9. Birth Of The Bat By Josh Simmons (The Mansion Press) – Simmons’ latest “Bootleg Batman” comic continues his trend of de facto deconstruction by taking the character of the Caped Crusader to its logical extremes — which is to say, well past the point of disturbing absurdity. Where some are content to merely mine the so-called “Bat mythos” for all its worth, Simmons strip mines it — and yet always seems to have more to say on the subject.

8. Epoxy #6 By John Pham (Self-Published) – Another sumptuous riso-printed feast for the eyes from the modern master of hand-printed comics. Who can say no to more “J+K” hijinks, another installment of “Deep Space,” and fold-outs and inserts galore? I know I sure can’t. Long may this series continue.

7. BUM : Unsmooth #2 By E.S. Glenn (Floating World Comics) – Glenn blows the doors wide open with this formally experimental, genre-hopping tour de force that plays with convention in the best way possible : by utilizing it for the artists’ own ends. Shifting styles as frequently as it shifts tone and perspective, this is one of those comics that leaves you with more questions than answers while all the time making its own kind of highly-specialized “sense” along the way. Ambitious, multi-layered, and metatextual, this is auteur work of the highest order.

6. The Future Is An Open Mouth By Dustin Holland (Self-Published) – Speaking of auteur comics, Holland produces nothing but, and this represents probably the most successful synthesis of his idiosyncratic creative vision with the always-nebulous concept of reader “accessibility.” Which is to say, it’s fucking ecstatically weird, but you’re never lost within its hermetic “universe.” Like all the best art, its borderline-impossible to define what makes Holland’s work so special, you just know that it is.

5. Dear Mother & Other Stories By Bhanu Pratap (Strangers Fanzine) – Arguably the year’s most disturbing work both conceptually and visually, Pratap’s full-length debut challenges notions of identity, bodily autonomy, and intrinsic need on levels both macro and micro. If you don’t think there can be beauty in nihilism, think again, but be warned : the more you do think about this comic, the more sleep you’ll lose.

**4. *Burg Land 1 – Sleemore Gank* By Alexander Laird (Self-Published) –** The most imaginative sci-fi comic to come down the pike in a hell of a long time, Laird’s loosely-paced but tightly-plotted opening salvo of what promises to be a sprawling sci-fi opus is breathtaking on *every* level, creatively and technically, rivaling the riso production values of even the esteemed (and aforementioned) Mr. Pham. Sure, this comic is a clinic on the art of so-called “world building,” but it’s got more than enough heart to match its brains, and *that* makes all the difference.

3. Speshal Comics, Edited By Floyd Tangeman (Dead Crow) – Essentially a “bonus issue” of Tangeman’s groundbreaking Tinfoil Comix, and showcasing the work of many of the same cartoonists who have appeared in that anthology, the strips in this one all honor the late Bay Area artist/tagger Evan “Spesh” Larsen, and while I admit I never knew the guy, this comic sure makes me wish that I had. This is no mere “tribute” publication, however — rather it’s a celebration and examination of an artist, his ethos, and his body of work as seen from multiple points of view, and well and truly runs the stylistic and tonal gamut. “Spesh” himself may be gone, but this comic is a monumental legacy in and of itself.

2. Scat Hog Volume One By Cooper Whittlesey (Self-Published) – Every year it seems a comic comes from out of left field and knocks me for a wallop. This year, that dubious “honor” belonged to this collection of Whittlesey’s straight-from-the-id strips, scrawled with all the energy and urgency of self-exorcism and not so much released into the world as it was thrust upon it. Still, in my defense, nothing can really prepare anybody for this torrential onslaught of unleashed artistic imperative. Shock and awe, baby — emphasis on the latter.

**1. *Crashpad* By Gary Panter (Fantagraphics) –** A bit of a cheat here in that this is an oversized hardcover book *as well as* a “floppy” single issue, but if anything is worth bending the rules for it’s this, Panter’s love letter to the underground. And while it holds true to many of the precepts of its artistic progenitors, it never takes the easy way out by wallowing in nostalgia — instead, Panter takes inspiration from the past to do what he does best : show us a way *forward*. Far out? Sure. But don’t be surprised if this one takes you on a journey *inside*, as well.

Okay, that’s one down, five to go — next up we’ll be looking at the TOP TEN COMICS SERIES. Until then, a reminder that my Patreon is updated three times a week with whatever is on my mind on the subjects of comics, films, television, literature, and politics. Depending on who you are, your support either is or would be greatly appreciated. https://www.patreon.com/fourcolorapocalypse

“As only the unreal is not ignoble and empty,” wrote J-K. Huysmans, “existence must be admitted to be abominable.” And while most of us enjoy the pleasures of the flesh to one degree or another, every once in awhile something comes along that makes you think Huysmans was probably on to something with that thought. So let’s talk Bhanu Pratap’s full-length debut (as far as I’m aware, at any rate) Dear Mother & Other Stories (Strangers Fanzine, 2021), shall we?

There’s a fair amount of “buzz” circulating about this comic in the corners of the internet I’m assuming most readers here pay attention to, and it’s not hard to see why : Pratap fucks with so many conventions and formalities those of us who rightly or wrongly consider ourselves to be possessed of a certain degree of “comics erudition,” if you will, like to see fucked with, from chronology to physicality to perspective to proportion, that it’s almost like an aesthete’s wish list on paper — but (and you saw this coming), I think much of the discussion misses something vital. This is no collection of “body horror” stories — it’s a collection of psychosexual horror stories that have bodily consequences.

First order of business with this comic, though, is getting one’s bearings within it, and sometimes that’s no easy task, both in terms of deciphering what Pratap is showing us, and when what we’re seeing takes places in relation to other events. More or less all of the more interpretive imagery is overtly sexual in nature, but hell — the same is true of the shit that’s easy to figure out. There’s sublimation galore to be found in these strips, but nothing particularly subliminal about its portrayal. And while the transformations and transmutations and transfigurations of bodies (or, sometimes, what used to be bodies) that Pratap delineates with such a Garo-informed eye toward the disturbingly lyrical are certain to grab your attention, by my reading almost all of them come about as a result of unmitigated (if not always unrequited) need. Indeed, to the extent we can be said to get to know the characters in these stories at all, we get to know them though the sheer force of their desperation — as well as the equally-desperate lengths to which they’ll go in order to try to sate it.

The “title track” story is the most obvious example of this, as a sex worker is literally sucked dry (though not of blood) by one of her customers who may or may not be an older iteration of the son who she’s breast feeding well past any sort of socially acceptable “cut-off point” in the first place, but if there’s one thing that’s perfectly clear throughout it’s that whatever she provides is never gonna be enough for either giver or receiver here, so bottomless is the hole they’re each trying to fill. Over at TCJ, Jog pointed out in his review (which, in fairness, is also where I poached these scans from, not finding sample pages online anywhere and not trusting my own shitty phone to do the art justice given this comic’s generous, magazine-sized dimensions) that the women in Pratap’s stories don’t fare too well, and that conclusion is certainly inescapable : just as the women in much of David Lynch’s work suffer for the redemption of others, Pratap’s are called upon to be instruments of psychological and biological sacrifice, only nobody’s coming out ahead in the deal. The men take all and still want more, the women offer all and still wish they had more to give. I told you Huysmans had it right — this whole corporeal existence thing is a goddamn abomination.

Pratap himself seems to acknowledge as much in “An interrogation Of A Man’s Body,” wherein a hapless asshole meets his end *courtesy* of his asshole — yup, you read that right, fatal flatulence — but even this wretched creature had a woman who loved him and can’t bear to let him go. I’m not in a position to psychoanalyze any cartoonist based on their work — after all, it could very well be that Pratap’s simply playing us all for suckers, and I’d actually congratulate him if that turned out to be the case — but the degree to which the very same themes pop up in these strips again and again can certainly lead a reasonable person to conclude that he’s working through a very particular set of issues, and ultimately finding no more resolution than his characters do. In that respect, there is a core of existential bleakness here that’s pretty difficult to deny, but equally undeniable is the “command to look” power with which the cartoonist imbues his work, both visually *and* conceptually. It’s one thing to ask whether or not our desires can ever truly be fulfilled, but Pratap takes it a step further by asking if we even *deserve* for them to be.

This, then, is some pretty weighty stuff any way you slice it — and trust me when I say things get sliced a *lot* of ways here, many of which you had likely never considered before. Whether or not it’s the year’s best work, as some seem to be inching toward proclaiming it, I couldn’t say, but in all likelihood it’s 2021’s most *challenging* comic, so don’t be surprised if your view of it is as fluid as the forms it depicts. Existence sucks and all, sure — but hey, at least it offers us plenty to think about.

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Dear Mother & Other Stories is available for $12.00 from Strangers Fanzine at https://strangersfanzine.bigcartel.com/product/dear-mother-other-stories-by-bhanu-pratap-strangers-fanzine-presents

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