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From the stack: The Adventures of Blanche

May 20, 2009 by

blancheI’m not really sure how comics have managed to keep Rick Geary to themselves. It’s not that I expecting him to move away from the medium; I’m just surprised that the admiration for his work hasn’t cracked beyond the comics audience and into wider venues. Where’s the interview on NPR or a spot in a group profile in the Times? I’ve never met him, so I have no idea if those sorts of things interest him in the slightest, but it seems like comics-friendly journalists are missing one of the medium’s best creators.

I’m most familiar with Geary’s non-fiction work, specifically his Treasury of Victorian and XXth Century Murder, published by NBM. They’re terrific, meticulous accounts of gory and intriguing crimes from bygone eras, combining true-crime detail with great art and insightful observations of those eras. I’m less familiar with his fiction works, so Dark Horse’s collection of The Adventures of Blanche was a welcome arrival. Geary always demonstrates a sly sense of humor in his true-crime comics, but he applies it with a freer hand here.

When readers first meet Blanche, she’s a contented grandmother in a small town, but we learn in short order that she wasn’t always so provincial. She left the family farm to study piano in New York, then moved to Hollywood to conduct for the budding motion picture industry, then found herself in Paris, providing musical direction for an avant-garde performance piece at the foot of the Eiffel Tower. Any of those experience would qualify as an adventure, but Geary raises the stakes by folding in secret societies, labor unrest, and international espionage. Curious and compassionate, Blanche is game for just about anything her unexpectedly adventurous life throws at her.

Her story is told through letters home, with Geary illustrating the events. As usual, he revels in the detail of time and place, folding in tidbits of history without derailing the adventurous aspects of the book. Like his heroine, he’s an efficient, engaging storyteller. And Blanche is the perfect kind of heroine for these kinds of stories. She’s modest but not prudish, inquisitive but not foolhardy, and just sure enough of herself to get in trouble (and plucky enough to get herself out).

Maybe Geary’s sterling track record of smart, snappy comics has led to him being taken a bit for granted. He makes it look easy.

Filed under: Dark Horse, From the stack 3 Comments

From the stack: Future Lovers

May 18, 2009 by

futurelovers2Saika Kunieda’s two-volume Future Lovers (Deux) is an unexpected treat. It’s a title in the yaoi category, which is focused on romantic relationships between men but doesn’t customarily concern itself with nuances of sexual orientation. There are some fine examples that do (and some fine works that don’t), but none incorporate the layers of a gay relationship – family, politics, work – as seamlessly as Future Lovers.

As I mentioned in my review of the first volume over at The Comics Reporter, it’s about an unlikely couple. Conservative Kento was a late bloomer in terms of sexual orientation, not even considering the possibility that he was gay until he met cynical, campy Akira, who probably twigged to his gayness in the womb. By the end of the first volume, chemistry teacher Kento and art teacher Akira were reasonably settled in a steady relationship (after some roadblocks, obviously.)

The second is dedicated to solidifying that relationship. Roadblocks persist, but they’re very down-to-earth. Kento’s doting grandparents still don’t like Akira. Akira’s trust issues, the disparity in the couple’s levels of experience and the simple awkwardness of being out as a couple all thread through the chapters of the story. Fortunately, their chemistry is enduring, and Kunieda has done such a fine job of establishing the characters’ individual identities that the relationship never feels like a documentary or case study.

I’m of the opinion that it’s easier to dramatize the build-up to a relationship than the day-to-day realities, so Kunieda’s accomplishment here is particularly impressive. They’re a sexy couple, but they also deal with relatable, everyday issues. And I don’t think I can recall ever reading a comic about a couple talking about being recognized as a couple, not just emotionally by their families and colleagues, but legally.

I’m one of those people who tend to bitch when GLAAD announces its annual Media Award nominees for comics that require you to squint to actually spot the gay content. I’m fairly certain that GLAAD will probably ignore Future Lovers, in spite of the fact that it incorporates as good a portrayal of the value of legal recognition for gay relationships as you’re likely to find. And beyond that, it’s wonderfully entertaining – sexy, funny, dramatic, smart. It’s even triumphant by the end – a little ridiculous, but even that feels intentional, and it supports the moment.

Seriously, Future Lovers may not have been designed that way, but it ends up being one of the best gay comics I’ve ever read.

Filed under: Deux, From the stack 5 Comments

From the stack: The Lapis Lazuli Crown

May 11, 2009 by

I’ve belatedly realized that I like comics for ‘tweens and teens for the same reasons I like some actual ‘tweens and teens. A good nature, a sense of humor, a reasonable amount ambition, intelligence – these qualities go a long way towards making me enjoy a comic or a kid. (I like the surly ones a lot if they’re sarcastic and perceptive enough to leaven their moodiness.)

llcNatsuna Kawase’s The Lapis Lazuli Crown, which debuts Wednesday from CMX, has enough of the good qualities to make it pleasant company. It’s pretty and outgoing but just insecure enough to spare it cheerleader blandness. And it’s only two volumes long, so how wrong can it go?

It’s about Miel Violette, middle daughter of a family of aristocratic sorcerers who’ve seen better days. Miel’s parents have lost their high-profile positions, but they’re getting by. Miel’s older sister, Sara, is already an accomplished magician, and little sister Renee has started magic school. Miel has inherited the family magic, but she’s awkward in its use, and she’s abnormally physically strong. Her middling magic and brute strength leave her wanting to fly under the radar and be average.

While out shopping one day, she meets a cute, goofy boy who finds her interesting, which is pretty much the last thing Miel wants. Radi encourages her to work on her magic and to not be so self-conscious about her strength. Miel is shocked when she discovers that Radi is actually the prince of the kingdom; he’s modified his appearance to let himself mingle among the people. After some initial irritation at Radi’s deception, Miel starts crushing on the prince and decides to hone her magical powers so that she can work in the palace and be closer to him.

It’s always at least a little gross when a character decides to do something they should be doing anyways to win the approval of a character they like. Kawase doesn’t entirely get around that problem, nor does she really seem to want to, but she comes close by making Radi wonderfully likable. Prince types don’t vary a whole lot, so Radi is a breath of fresh air. In his commoner guise, he’s enthusiastic about everything and genuinely interested in his subjects and their welfare. His in-disguise walkabouts are about having fun, but they’re also about connecting with the people he serves. I wish Miel was more self-motivated, but there are good reasons to crush on Radi, so I won’t carp too much.

The Lapis Lazuli Crown has the added advantage of being really, really pretty. I’m sort of crazy about faux-European, quasi-period settings, and Kawase does a very nice job of conceiving and executing designs for her setting and the looks of her characters. There’s a nice sense of motion to her illustrations, and the magical sequences have an understated quality that’s a nice change from some of the super-sparkly examples in the genre. (She doesn’t demonstrate a tremendous range in terms of character design. The back-up story is an appealing thief caper, but it looks like Miel and Radi are part of a summer stock company playing a one-act on the nights the main production is dark.)

But really, the biggest selling point for the book is Radi, the dream boy who’s actually dreamy and at least as interesting as the girl who loves him. That’s rare enough to make The Lapis Lazuli Crown worth a look.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher.)

Filed under: CMX, From the stack 7 Comments

From the stack: We Were There

May 4, 2009 by

wwt

I love a lot of shôjo for its embrace of emotional ambivalence, but even I can admit that a lot of that ambivalence can come in a fairly narrow flavor profile. How many times can I be asked to care which generically attractive, somewhat condescending boy is the right boy for the heroine? Now, some series execute that conundrum beautifully, and I really care, but books that go a different route always catch my eye.

wwtcoverYuki Obata’s We Were There (Viz) seems to be one of those welcome alternatives to triangular angst. The first volume demonstrates a sharp appreciation for ambivalence of the internal variety.

Like many of the sisterhood, protagonist Nanami is starting high school and hoping to make friends and have fun. She isn’t yet engaged in the boyfriend hunt, which is a nice change of pace. Of course, active engagement isn’t always required for the boyfriend hunt to begin. Nanami finds herself evenly divided between irritation and infatuation when she meets Yano, a cute classmate. Circumstances conspire to bring them closer. Her heart races and she doesn’t know why. And the school festival looks like it’s going to be a disaster! Slide your Scantron sheet into the Shôjomatic 3000X, right? Well, not quite.

Obata uses a couple of approaches that make We Were There distinct. The first is what I can only call a kind of flatness of affect. It’s like she’s minimized the stylistic extremes that have become shôjo stereotypes to get back to the emotions that inspired those stereotypes in the first place. Second is the fact that she does the hard work of translating stereotypes into actual characters. Yano actually is half irritating, half admirable.

The core question of the book is whether Nanami really knows Yano at all. His first love has died, and Obata examines the messy emotional fallout of that scenario with intelligence and restraint. What exactly is lurking under Yano’s shôjo-prince façade, and why is he giving Nanami peeks under the veil? Does he actually like her, or is he trying to appear normal? Is he in touch with his own feelings at all, and how can Nanami sort her own feelings out with so many questions?

That’s a really meaty, emotional foundation for a story. We Were There doesn’t wallow in emotional lows or titter through shrill comedic highs, and I think it’s more interesting for that. I like wallowing, and I like tittering, but introspection can be engrossing too.

Filed under: From the stack, Viz 3 Comments

Upon closer inspection

March 19, 2009 by

It’s trite but true that you never get a second chance to make a good first impression, but it’s also true that a second impression can really chip away at the goodwill generated by the first. For example, I liked the first volume of Miwa Ueda’s Papillon (Del Rey), but the second has me scratching my head. I can only liken the reading experience to being at a party, having an interesting chat with a new acquaintance, losing track of them as you mingle, and later overhearing them talk about how they burn their own hair clippings, use the ashes as the base for an under-eye night cream, and swear by it, just swear by it.

Okay, that’s probably overstating it, but the things that intrigued me about the debut volume are downplayed, and the worrying undercurrents are amplified and accelerated. Ueda shifts focus from the sibling rivalry between twins Ageha (country mouse) and Hana (city shrew) to Ageha’s simmering resentment towards her mother. It’s a fair enough shift, but their issues are resolved with a singular lack of subtlety. I don’t want to give away too much, but I have this personal rule that forbids me to pass up an opportunity to type the phrase “feigns a coma.” I’ll say no more.

Because really, why dwell on a manufactured medical crisis as bonding opportunity when I can fixate on my mounting dislike of Ageha’s guidance counselor, Hayato? There’s the strong suggestion that he’s some kind of instinctive genius under his lecherous, perhaps actionably incompetent exterior, and his zany schemes do actually seem to yield positive results, but only a gifted seer could have foreseen any positive outcomes from them. (Again: “feigns a coma.”)

But even his bumbling takes a back seat to his grossness. Unpredictable as many of the second-volume twists may be, you can see Ageha’s attraction to Hayato coming from a mile away, and the anticipation is not pleasant. Because you just know that nothing in his nature resembles clinical distance or therapeutic ethics. The course that covered transference must have been among the many Hayato slept through during his college years.

I admit, though, that the bizarre shift in tone and approach between Papillon’s first and second volumes makes me perversely eager to read the third. Maybe an alien will burst out of Hana’s abdomen and begin eating the rest of the cast. You just don’t know for sure.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher.)

Filed under: Del Rey, From the stack 4 Comments

From the stack: Agents of Atlas

February 5, 2009 by

Not too long ago, writer Dan Slott mused on fun in super-hero comics. I have to give Slott credit for endorsing the concept, and he certainly does try. I found his first issue of Mighty Avengers more queasy-quasi-nostalgic than actually fun, but I appreciated the attempt. (I buy maybe two super-hero floppies a year, mostly out of morbid curiosity. In this case, it was to see if someone would actually write my longtime favorite super-heroine, the Scarlet With, without any post-partum, crazed-with-power drool running down her chin.) The intent for fun is there, though it reads more like an all-star season of a competitive reality show where you spend more time remembering the previous seasons you enjoyed and wondering how the producers defined “all-star.” (The comic did make me realize that I’ve never much cared about Hank Pym one way or the other, from his moments of sanity and competence to his stretches of toxic neurosis.)

But it did trigger a bit more desire to see if there was any actual fun to be found in Marvel Comics. After weighing the preponderance of critical evidence, I settled on a comic written by Jeff Parker as a likely vein of this rare and mysterious substance.

Agents of Atlas (Marvel) has a good beat and you could conceivably dance to it. It’s about a group of 1950s super-heroes reunited in the current day to help their former secret-agent leader. Writer Jeff Parker declines the premise’s invitation to ruefully ponder How Things Have Changed, and Not for the Better. (One character even tactfully neglects to tell another about her former protégé’s gruesome demise, not wanting to spoil the genial mood.)

Parker decides to let the cast bring their period’s offbeat sense of play with it. He tells a lightweight, fast-paced story about likeable characters doing reasonably interesting things, letting lots of throw-away fun compensate for an only serviceable plot.

The book strongly resembles The Umbrella Academy (Dark Horse), but The Umbrella Academy (which I liked a lot) resembles a lot of things. There’s less baggage in Agents of Atlas; there was no gruesome catalyst for the cast’s original separation, and they all view their reunion as fortuitous. Their lives didn’t stop when they were apart, but they fondly remember their brief time together, and their easy, amiable camaraderie clicks back into place without much fuss. Even their old arch-nemesis seems delighted at the turn of events.

If Parker doesn’t do a whole lot to move the characters past archetypes (the lug trapped in a monster’s body, the space orphan, the love goddess, etc.), he certainly knows how to orchestrate their familiar voices in endearing ways. Even the Marilyn Munster character, Wakandan S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Derek Kanata, is a pleasant, contributing presence, though the role of “the normal one” is almost always thankless.

Art by Leonard Kirk (inked by Kris Justice with Terry Pallot, colors by Michelle Madsen) is very much to my tastes. Staging is generally clear, there are some nifty page compositions, and there’s nothing egregiously cheesy. (Venus, the love goddess, is actually beautiful instead of tawdry, even when she’s walking around topless.) Kirk’s pencils remind me of those of Stuart Immonen, and Immonen was one of my favorite contemporary super-hero artists when I still read them regularly.

Marvel adds a fair amount of value to the collection, which comes in at a seems-high price tag of $24.99. In addition to the six issues of the original mini-series, there are lots of text pieces and some classic reprints of the character’s first appearances. (There’s also the deeply awful issue of What If that provided the inspiration for Agents of Atlas, which is oddly about a thousand times more meta-textual than the contemporary mini-series.)

I think the advantage here is that, instead of cherry-picking from any actual continuity, or at least any continuity that anyone knows offhand, Parker is inventing it as he goes along. He can control the tone and maintain a level of coherence with the narrative. Since nothing’s really happened with these characters in five decades, Parker can re-imagine them in a few contemporary ways while sticking with their original weirdness and charm. And he can do it without sneering at any of his neighbors. Instead of reading as a retaliatory measure or a satire, it’s just a pleasant, stand-alone alternative.

Filed under: From the stack, Marvel 4 Comments

From the stack: Cross X Break 1 and 2

December 28, 2008 by

Is there a name for the manga category that can be described as shônen-y shôjo done by boys’-love creators who don’t entirely abandon their primary category? Because that’s a mouthful, and there seems to be more and more of it on the shelves. And that’s fine, because a lot of it is reasonably good fun.

Case in point is Duo Brand’s Cross X Break (Go! Comi), which juggles its various influences with a fair amount of skill and still delivers a pretty compelling story. It’s got a sturdy but not-too complicated set-up, largely complex characters, attractive art, and a sampler platter of hunky eye candy.

Young Akito is the studious son of the President of a futuristic version Japan. His louche, scantily-clad older brother, Shinkai, announces between beers that Akito is to study abroad, and the younger sibling finds himself transported to a hostile fantasy landscape. His dishrag friend Yaya is dragged along, and they must navigate a bizarre world with an unforgiving caste system and brutal Warlock enforcers.

In this world, everyone has a place they’re supposed to be and a function they’re supposed to fulfill. Deviate from that and the Warlocks will come down on you with lethal force. Your former caste won’t think very much of you either. Fortunately for Akito and Yaya, they meet a subterranean renegade named Neon who offers to serve as their guide and protector. Akito, demonstrating a high level of smarts for this kind of manga protagonist, is appropriately suspicious of Neon’s intentions and furious at his exile at the hands of his brother.

The two-person team of Duo Brand gives Akito multiple objectives. He’s got to figure out a way home, protect Yaya, decide who to trust, and help the people he meets as they suffer under the brutal control of the Warlocks. They juggle and blend Akito’s agendas well, and they don’t hold back on the nasty when it comes to outlining the social structures of Akito’s new world. There’s some shocking violence and even more shocking cruelty in this fantasy landscape, but it’s balanced nicely by their protagonist’s decency and intelligence, some nice bits of invention, and a lively pace for the story’s underlying mysteries.

The series is easy on the eye, too. Duo Brand has a good design sense that helps to make their fantasy world convincing. Character design is generally strong, and if their costuming choices run to what I’d call “alt-rock Renaissance-fair boutique,” at least they let their characters joke about it. (They do have a weird tendency to obscure character faces with shadows that make them look like they’re wearing giant eye patches, which isn’t entirely helpful.)

My only real quibble would be the lack of women characters of any substance or consequence. Yaya is blandly sweet and kind, but she spends an awful lot of time in victim mode to motivate Akito. It’s not her story, obviously, and she does get a couple of moments when she isn’t completely passive, but she still seemed more like luggage than a character on par with all of the guys.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publishers.)

Filed under: From the stack, Go! Comi 5 Comments

From the stack: Salt Water Taffy: A Climb up Mt. Barnabas

December 11, 2008 by

If I was a sufficiently good person, I would donate my copy of Matthew Loux’s Salt Water Taffy: A Climb up Mt. Barnabas (Oni Press) to the local library so that area schoolchildren could take in its many charms and borrow it to the point of decay, as I know they would. I’m not that good a person, so I’m keeping it for myself.

The first volume of this series was easily one of the most delightful comics discoveries of the year. The second is just a bit better in that Loux’s storytelling is a bit more confident, and his absurd sense of humor has a bit freer reign. Having established that weird things happen in the seaside hamlet of Chowder Bay, Loux can dive into new weirdness faster and take it a little farther.

This time around, Jack and Benny Putnam have put their father on the defensive with their hero-worship of Angus an old, Chowder Bay salt with his finger on the pulse of local lore (because he was there for most of it). Dad tells a whopper, and the kids are duly impressed. They’re so impressed that they decide to reenact Dad’s adventure.

What follows involves a perilous climb up the titular peak, a sneaky wolf, improbable headwear, and lots of other engaging stuff. It also involves snappy dialogue, nifty characterization, charmingly loopy art, brisk pacing… pretty much everything you could ask for in a funny adventure comic. There really isn’t a panel wasted.

So no, I’m not going to share my Taffy. Maybe I’ll change my mind if Oni publishes a handsome, hardcover omnibus like they did with Scott Chantler’s Northwest Passage, but until that day comes, the local youngsters are on their own.

(Here’s a preview at Comic Book Resources, along with a review by Greg McElhatton and an interview with Loux.)

Filed under: From the stack, Oni 4 Comments

From the stack: Crogan's Vengeance

November 25, 2008 by

It’s never easy to blend instruction or a morality play into an adventure narrative (or any kind of narrative), but someone at Oni Press has a knack for finding properties that do that well. James Vining’s First in Space and Scott Chantler’s Northwest Passage both managed to be simultaneously entertaining and educational, and now Chris Schweizer’s Crogan’s Vengeance pulls off the same trick.

When Eric Crogan gets into some minor, modern-day mischief, his father plucks a story from the family tree to reinforce the importance of making good choices in bad situations. Dad starts with “Catfoot” Crogan, a young sailor who found himself mixed up in piracy and politics in the very early 1700s.

Catfoot isn’t particularly ambitious, but he has a good skill set for seafaring. Too bad his unstable, sadistic captain takes an immediate loathing to the lad. When pirates set upon the ship, the crew is forced to choose between defending themselves (and almost certainly dying) or throwing in with their attackers. They choose the latter in the first of several junctions where Schweizer pits pragmatism against morality.

It’s both fortunate and unfortunate that Catfoot is a natural strategist. His plans put him in good stead with his new captain, but they inspire lethal jealousy from other superiors. And while Captain Cane would rather intimidate a ship into surrendering its cargo, he won’t scruple to murder an entire crew if they don’t play along. Cane has his own moral code about piracy, and while Catfoot isn’t persuaded by it, he knows it’s better than the bloodthirsty approach of Cane’s second-in-command, D’Or.

So what’s a basically decent quasi-pirate to do when Schweizer presents him with an even higher-stakes impasse? The fun is in finding out, and I won’t spoil it, but I will say that Schweizer has a real feel for the tone of morally murky subjects. His assessment of pirate life is frank (though not graphic) but not preachy or overstated. He never romanticizes the pirates’ criminality, but he acknowledges that degrees of depravity that can exist within a criminal subculture. And he argues persuasively that decency can survive in that subculture and emerge as something unique and purposeful.

It’s a great-looking book. Schweizer’s engaging, energetic cartoons keep the story moving along very nicely. There’s a lot of chatter, which is necessary if Schweizer is to describe the pirate milieu in a useful way, but varied page layouts and good pacing keep the talky bits from stalling the action. In fact, they’re an essential part of the action. Keith Wood’s design for the hard-cover presentation is very handsome, giving off a classic vibe that isn’t stodgy.

I suspect that it’s the kind of book librarians will love, sturdy, smart and snappy. Better still, Schweizer promises fifteen more looks into the sprawling Crogan clan, from explorers to escape artists to secret agents. (It would be nice if the Crogans had some noteworthy women on the family tree, but you can’t have everything.)

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher.)

Filed under: From the stack, GGN4T, Oni 5 Comments

Lord help the sister

October 29, 2008 by

In the process of creating Papillon (Del Rey), Miwa Ueda consulted with counselors to explore the psychology of the twin-sister rivals at the center of her story. Okay, so the experts, as described, kind of sound like Tokyo’s answer to Dr. Phil, but there’s an observant undercurrent to the book all the same.

Ueda introduces withdrawn Ageha and popular Hana, sisters who were raised separately for the first seven or eight years of their lives. Ueda never really explains why the separation occurs, which nags at me. (I always thought the twins in The Parent Trap should have focused their energies on scorched-earth vengeance for their parents’ hideously selfish neglect rather than on trying to reunite them, but maybe that’s just me.) But Ueda is more interested in portraying the sisters’ prickly dynamic than explaining how they arrived at it.

Since Ueda portrays the relationship with feeling and detail, I can mostly overlook the omitted exposition. Ageha is discontent in Hana’s shadow, and she’s been nurturing a crush on a classmate who spent summers in the country near her grandmother’s house. A trainee school counselor (hunky and irresponsible, but amusing all the same) encourages her to pursue the boy and come out of her cocoon in the process. Instead of concocting wacky, demeaning schemes, Ageha begins generally standing up for herself. Her displays of confidence have positive results, earning her new friends.

Hana hates that, of course. She’s used to being the sleek, sparkling city girl in comparison to Ageha’s country mouse bit, partly since Ageha generally played along. It helps Hana maintain her identity by having a drabber mirror image for contrast. So she takes steps to maintain the status quo. But Ueda is generous enough to refrain from making Hana completely horrible, acknowledging that Hana might actually have some feelings for the boy she stole from her sister.

It’s possible that I’m being too generous to Hana based on my distaste for her parents’ past behavior, but I find her and Ageha fairly evenly matched. That balance makes for a more interesting story than a pure underdog portrayal for Ageha. I’m looking forward to future twists and turns, as Ueda has set up a believable dynamic that should be able to generate them without stretching things too far. I admit that I’ll be bitterly disappointed if the sisters don’t go off on Mom and Dad at some point, but for now, I’m content to enjoy the soapy, slightly nasty sister act.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy provided by the publisher.)

Filed under: Del Rey, From the stack 2 Comments
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