The Manga Curmudgeon

Spending too much on comics, then talking too much about them

Top of the T-Pop

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There’s a nice, meaty interview with Tokyopop publisher Mike Kiley over at ICv2 with lots of interesting nuggets on original graphic novels, Tokyopop’s balance between licensed and original material, and cautious speculation on what might be the next big thing. Some of my favorite bits:

“It comes down to whether the books suck or not. I confess to a little anxiety over what the hardcore otaku community might think of books that look a little different, or that told stories slightly different. At the end of the day it’s a very sophisticated readership. If the books are good, if they look good, if the story’s are compelling, if they’re told in a manga-fied way people buy them. Those books have the potential to be extremely successful in terms of raw numbers when measured against some of the more classic licensed books, in my opinion.”

Not sucking is a really excellent baseline goal for any publisher. It was interesting to read that the mid-list for OGNs actually moves higher numbers than the mid-list for licensed stuff. (That might be a function of the licensed stuff forming a much larger pool, and it might also have to do with the vigorous promotion Tokyopop has given its OGNs.)

What is manga, though, Mr. Kiley?

“Defining all of it as having something manga-like about it is sometimes a challenge. And that’s why some of our original books will be easily identifiable as manga and will be directly embraced by the current manga readership. Other books that we publish, people are going to sit on the floor in the manga section and open them up and really be confused, ‘What is this?’ That’s okay. That’s part of the process of all of us trying to figure out what manga really means to the consumers of manga in the United States.”

I must confess that I’ve never seen the legendary gaggle of children sitting on a bookstore floor. I have seen male twenty-somethings reading Marvel and DC trades in the café, then putting the copies back on the shelves before they leave the store.

Back on the subject of Tokyopop’s OGN creators, Svetlana Chmakova, creator of Dramacon, will be taking part in a special event in Toronto called “TRIPLE THREAT: A Manga, Superhero, Videogame extravaganza!”

I saw Dramacon on a recent new releases list, but I haven’t seen a copy of it in a bookstore yet. Has it actually been distributed, or was this another case of a manga publisher front-loading its listings at the beginning of the month, regardless of when the titles actually come out?

From the stack: SPIRAL-BOUND

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It’s summer in Estabrook, and things are looking up for some of its younger residents. Ana, a rabbit, thought she’d be miserable with her best friend off at music camp. But she gets a job at the town’s underground newspaper, the Scoop, and she’ll get to team up with Em, another friend (and bird) who’s working there as a photographer. Shy Turnip, an elephant, figures he won’t do much of anything until he’s befriended by Stucky, a dog from his class. Stucky suggests Turnip sign up for sculpture camp with him.

The activities seem normal enough, but they end up putting the kids’ creativity, compassion, and courage to the test in Aaron Renier’s very entertaining Spiral-Bound (top secret summer) (Top Shelf Productions). Renier balances the comic adventure with some very perceptive and moving moments and does some terrific world building in the process.

Ana’s first assignment, a preview of the sculpture camp, leads her to investigate one of Estabrook’s biggest mysteries, the Pond Monster. Her investigation stirs up the fears of Estabrook’s adults and puts the sculpture teacher, a whale named Ms. Skrimshaw, in a tough position. Turnip enjoys sculpture camp, trying projects with the various different media, but he worries that he’s not really being creative, just appropriating other people’s styles and inspirations. Ana and Turnip’s activities intersect in clever ways, keeping the various subplots connected and moving forward.

The characters, especially the kids, are wonderful. Ana has the spunky reporter thing down. She’s intrepid and curious, but she’s also thorough, doing research in the library and in the town’s bookstore and grilling sources. She also has some hilarious moments of outrage when people tell her to pull back on the Pond Monster project or notice that she repeatedly uses certain words in her writing. (“But sometimes that’s the most fitting word!” she says in defense of her beloved “impeccable.”)

Renier resists the urge to cute up Turnip’s shyness and uncertainty. The little elephant takes things very much to heart, and he’s hard on himself. When a flustered Ms. Skrimshaw snaps at him, it has real sting because she’s inadvertently touched on some of Turnip’s most vulnerable points. Fortunately, Stucky is as thoughtful and persistent as he is inventive, and he does his best to keep Turnip on his creative track. (“Nobody’s an island, Turnip. You’re going to borrow something from everything!”)

Renier has also given his characters subtly individual voices. Ana is outspoken and declarative, and her conversations with Em have a funky, friendly rhythm. Turnip flusters easily; it’s like he isn’t that used to talking to people, at least about things that matter, and he can’t always articulate the complex things that are going on in his head. It’s a big cast, with camp students, newspaper employees, parents and various other townspeople, and each makes a distinct impression.

The story itself is less consistently successful. The solution to the over-arching mystery is less satisfying than the investigation. That might partly be because Renier has tried to concoct a solution where nobody’s really at fault for the misunderstandings that have preceded it. That’s tough to pull off, and Renier has sprinkled some almost ugly moments of tension into the story. Estabrook’s adults are alarmingly (and a little unconvincingly) prone to mob mentality. They’re driven by protectiveness, but some of their behavior leaves an unexpectedly bad aftertaste. (The illustrations don’t hold up as well in the tenser action sequences, too.)

But the overall feel of the book more than compensates for the rougher edges of the story. Estabrook is a wonderfully rendered fictional environment, and its Noah’s Ark citizens make for charming visuals. Crowd scenes are filled with funny Easter Eggs. I particularly love Renier’s conception of how the Scoop operates, half newspaper and half spy organization. With such a great landscape in place, it will be a shame if Renier doesn’t follow up with a sequel.

Best of all is the fact that the kids end up stronger than they start. Ana proves herself as a reporter through resourcefulness and hard work. Turnip inches out of his shell, making friends and finding a creative outlet. They’re active and inquisitive, learning by doing and having a positive influence on their town in the process. Watching this unfold is very satisfying and a lot of fun.

(This review is based on a complimentary copy of Spiral-Bound provided by Top Shelf.)

From the SPX stack: MOPED ARMY

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(The following contains spoilers for Moped Army.)

Given how much I’ve complained about the recent trend of ethical failure in mainstream super-hero comics, it seems weird that I’d find fault with an excess of moral clarity in a graphic novel, especially one as fine as Paul Sizer’s Moped Army (Café Digital Comics). It nags, though, because it limits the story’s suspense and impact.

Moped Army tells the story of Simone, a privileged young woman who lives in Upper Bolt Harbor. She lives in comfort and security, mingling with other rich teens in a rarefied environment. Upper Bolt Harbor is literally named, as it looms high and aloof over Lower Bolt Harbor, crumbling home of the lower class.

As the story begins, Simone is uncomfortable with certain elements of her life and society. She rebels in small ways, refusing to indulge in the kind of body modification and obsession with appearance that’s standard with her peers. She’s also having doubts about her boyfriend, wealthy, obnoxious Chéz, who belittles her for seemingly trivial shortcomings (Simone’s glasses, her apparent indifference to status).

Her doubts crystallize when Chéz and a group of his lackeys take their aircars down to the lower city for cheap thrills. They encounter a group of moped-riding kids and make sport of trying to knock them off the road. Things spiral out of control, and one of the moped riders is killed. Chéz and company flee back to their penthouses, ordering Simone to keep her mouth shut.

But she’s badly shaken by the experience and travels to Lower Bolt Harbor to find out more about the people her friends have callously harmed. She meets the Moped Army, a resourceful group of free spirits who have formed a loyal, surrogate family based on their shared passion for the old-fashioned means of transportation. The kids in the Moped Army are the polar opposites of Simone’s Upper crowd. The Lower kids scrabble by with limited resources, keeping their antique rides going through toil and creativity. While the Uppers seem bound by greed and intimidation, the Moped Army is a family of choice, protective of each other and appreciative of individual contributions.

Moped Army follows Simone’s shifting loyalties, but the distinctions between her two choices are so clear and so extreme that there isn’t very much suspense. The Upper crowd is uniformly loathsome – greedy, craven, abusive, and driven by self-interest. Even Simone’s parents have been corrupted by the culture. The Moped Army has all the spirit and decency, even as they bend and break laws to pursue their passion. (Gasoline is illegal in the futuristic setting, and it’s more than a little strange to be rooting for the group that actively wants to use fossil fuels.) Except for comfort and security, Simone’s status quo has no intrinsic attractions, and her new world is evidently more honorable and rewarding.

Despite the simplicity of the driving narrative, though, Moped Army has a number of strengths. Sizer has created a very dramatic future society, even if it lacks shadings. The have-and-have-not distinctions are depressingly credible. He does nice work with the Army, too, defining its shared passion and the individual personalities of its members. (They’re all decent and plucky, but they’re decent and plucky in distinct, personal ways.)

His illustrations are wonderfully detailed, and he gives Lower Bolt City a gritty, almost archeological allure. Character designs are appealing and stylish, and Sizer is adept at portraying the charged emotions his cast experiences. Action sequences rely on a very smart juxtaposition of words and images, supplying useful (but not expository) information to support visual clarity and impact. It’s a great-looking book.

I just wish there had been a few more grey areas between Simone’s old life and her potential new one. I’d love to see a sequel where Simone tries to reconcile Upper and Lower cultures, as there’s not really room for that here. She’s got all of the foundations to fulfill that kind of role, and she’s positioned well to be an ambassador of sorts. I think it would make for a great follow-up to a very good graphic novel.

Reading, writing, and routing

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Did anyone else who uses Blogger experience a flurry of comment spam over the weekend? I wonder if it has anything to do with the new blog search functions. Hopefully, the word recognition feature will clear away some of the junk. It’s more a nuisance than anything, as most of them appear on entries from as long as a year ago.

I’m convinced this bug is never going to go away, but it did let me plow through a lot of the reading stack, both SPX stuff and the week’s ridiculously large manga haul.

The highlight of the SPX reading was the rest of Jessica Abel’s La Perdida (Fantagraphics). I’m glad I didn’t wait for the Pantheon collection. I also really enjoyed Josh Neufeld’s A Few Perfect Hours (and Other Stories from Southeast Asia and Central Europe) (Alternative). While La Perdida isn’t a travel comic, it relies so strongly on sense of place that it filled that function for me. Beyond their armchair traveler value, both focused on a kind of immersive, seat-of-your-pants brand of travel that I never practice, so there was an extra level of escapism. (I’m very big on set itineraries, confirmation numbers, and guaranteed comfort and safety when I hit the road.)

It seems like I’ve been waiting forever for another book by John Berendt, whose Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil: A Savannah Story is one of my favorites. (It spent forever on the best-seller list, and it was made into a truly appalling movie by Clint Eastwood.) His follow-up is finally out, The City of Falling Angels. This time, Berendt looks at culture, class, and crime in Venice. I’d forgotten that I’d pre-ordered it, so its arrival was a pleasant surprise.

I read a lot of the same manga volumes as Johanna Draper Carlson (what a surprise!). She updates several entries at Comics Worth Reading. But, here are some of my quick reactions:

  • Othello Vol. 5: It’s nice to see Yaya starting to question the lapses in her memory, even as she seems to gain some confidence. The story is moving along nicely.
  • Hikaru No Go Vol. 5: It surprised me to notice how much Hikaru has grown as a character over the course of this series. I can’t imagine the Hikaru from the first volume having the kind of emotional conflict he faces here (having to choose between ambition and loyalty).
  • Yotsuba&! Vol. 3: Still delightful, and excellent bathtub reading, just in case anyone out there partakes of that particular pleasure. And plenty of Jumbo!

A new Flipped is up today, where I yammer about novels, graphic and otherwise, and the increasing intersection between the two. As case studies go, I probably could have done better than Socrates in Love.

Cold remedies

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Oh, Comic Book Resources, you’re almost as comforting as all of the over-the-counter medications I’ve been consuming.

The preview of Scott Pilgrim & the Infinite Sadness makes me feel better. Envy Adams looks delightfully awful. And yes, everybody in the world has already linked to it. I don’t care.

I haven’t seen much mention of another preview further down, but it does just as much to alleviate congestion and chills. It’s five pages of She-Hulk 2 #1, and it comes out Oct. 19. And I love Dan Slott soundbytes:

“Buy this monthly comic, and we’ll give you a month’s worth of entertainment!”

Enthusiastic, yet tastefully understated.

From the SPX stack: ELK'S RUN 1-3

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Elk’s Run is a creepy B-movie of a comic. I mean that as a compliment. If it’s a bit crude in its manipulations, it’s pretty effective all the same.

In it, an experiment in utopia is falling apart, as they always seem to do. A group of people have isolated themselves in Elk’s Ridge, a West Virginia mining town, shielded from what they see as pernicious cultural influences like television, alcohol, and police. It’s not that they have a specific era in mind that they’re trying to recapture; they simply know what they don’t like about contemporary life, and they’ve been fortunate enough to find a benefactor who will sustain the town according to its own standards.

Things start to fall apart when the next generation reaches adolescence. They’re old enough to be bored by the confines of Elk’s Ridge and to dismally wonder what the future holds for them. They mouth off and sneak out in the dead of night. During one of these nocturnal excursions, one of the kids is killed by a drunk driver. The man, Arnold Huld, is drunk and distraught after being abandoned by his wife and children, and he faces the lethal retribution of his fellow citizens (all according to the town’s charter).

One of the kids sees his elders in action, and state troopers come in response to a call from Huld’s wife, reporting his disappearance. From there, it’s all about the citizens of Elk’s Ridge rising to defend the sanctity of their community. The tension builds progressively, and cracks start to form between generations and neighbors.

Each issue is told from a different perspective. The first issue follows John Jr., one of the teens. The second gets inside the head of his father, blurring together scenes of his war service with his response to the crisis in Elk’s Ridge. He sees himself as a pragmatist and a patriot, unconvincingly denying that he’s taking any pleasure in violence or retribution. Issue three is perhaps the most creepily effective, focusing on John Jr.’s mom, Sara. She’s a real monster, demonstrating none of her husband’s apparent uncertainty, relishing her authority in the community, and taking unsettling pleasure in doing what needs to be done. Things really click into place when Sara’s in the spotlight.

I think Joshua Fialkov’s overall story works a bit better than individual moments. For example, the teens’ fondness for obscenity seems a little unlikely, given their restrictive environment. And the war-and-home contrast reads as somewhat heavy-handed, though it does get its point across. But there’s definite momentum and tension in each chapter, and it grows nicely from one issue to the next. Falkov’s choice of a West Virginia mining town for his setting is a thematically inspired one, given the sad history of outside influence on those communities.

Noel Tuazon does nice work with the visuals. There’s a firm sense of place, essential for this kind of story. His character designs serve things well. The people of Elk’s Ridge look like the crowd at a county fair. Tuazon uses a nice variety of line weights, too, heavier on the more explosive moments, more delicate in subtler sequences. Coloring by Scott Keating contributes tremendously to the shifting, unsettling moods.

If Elk’s Run isn’t perfect from page to page, it’s got enough control of tone and plenty of pulpy energy to carry it through. It’s also got a very solid premise and some intriguing ideas at its foundation. I’m looking forward to future issues.

(Initially published by Hoarse and Buggy Productions, the mini-series been picked up by Speakeasy for the remainder of its eight-issue run. Speakeasy is just about to release a bumper edition collecting the first three issues and some bonus material, but I picked up the singles at a ridiculously low price at SPX.)

From the stack: POLLY AND THE PIRATES 1

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(Possibly unnecessary spoiler warning: The central plot development in Polly and the Pirates was revealed in some of the book’s promotional coverage, but I’m going to restate it here. Just be forewarned.)

I have a well-documented weakness for characters I would call “blurters,” people whose natural honesty leads them to rattle off uncomfortable, impolitic observations in less-than-ideal circumstances. I’m happy to see that the protagonist of Ted Naifeh’s Polly and the Pirates (Oni Press) carves her own funny niche in this category.

Polly-Ann Pringle is a proper young girl attending boarding school in St. Helvetia, an exotic, seaside city. Faultlessly honest and dutiful, she’s trying to emulate her late mother, described by her father as “the most graceful and proper lady that ever was.” Her more adventuresome schoolmates (they read “novels”!) view her with varying degrees of fondness and frustration.

She seems almost eager to live a predictable, appropriate life. Unfortunately, her mother wasn’t always the pillar of propriety that’s been described. One night, Polly is kidnapped from her dormitory by pirates who are looking for the heir of their former captain, Meg Malloy. They need a new leader, and they’ve settled on Polly, Meg’s daughter.

It’s a charmingly absurd set-up, not just because of the generic notion of a pre-teen pirate queen. Polly seems a particularly bad choice for buccaneer because of her conservative approach to life. Her first exchange with the pirates illustrates this nicely, as she bluntly assesses their morals and personal hygiene.

The first issue is given over to setting up the premise, and if pre-release publicity has taken away some of the element of surprise, it hasn’t done anything to undermine the book’s charm. Polly is a very promising protagonist (alliteration alert!), because she has somewhere to go. Her disposition isn’t suited to a life of adventure on the high seas, but her legacy might not leave her any choice. It should be great fun to watch her adjustment unfold.

I love Naifeh’s art. He’s given Polly an open, serious face that’s alternately childlike and a little forbidding. In fact, the whole visual sense could be described that way, from character design to sense of place. The illustrations are precise and engaging, and they’re layered with a wonderful use of shading. (Keith Wood collaborated with Naifeh on the design; I’m not sure how his contributions break down, but I wouldn’t want to exclude him, because the book looks great.)

Polly and the Pirates gets off to a fine start. It has a fun, solid premise, appealing characters, and terrific illustrations.

Ridiculous

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There’s an absolutely ludicrous quantity of manga coming out this week. Worse still, much of it is manga I either really like or am curious about. (It would be absurd even if I hadn’t barely made a dent in my SPX haul.)

ADV rushes out with the third volume of Yotsuba&! They can’t come fast enough, in my opinion. I’ll never understand why ADV still hasn’t uploaded any information on the book to its web site, though.

Del Rey provides the fifth volume of Othello (and please go over to Scoffing at Gravity to read Mely’s thoughts on that and a number of other titles, because they’re fascinating).

Tokyopop debuts both Dramacon and Steady Beat. Gump has an early review of SB over at Keromaru. Some sample pages of Dramacon were included in Bizenghast, and it looks very promising.

Viz has the fifth volume of Hikaru No Go, the second volume of Tokyo Boys and Girls, and something called Socrates in Love, a manga adaptation of a best-selling novel that has me morbidly curious. It seems like a long time since a new volume of HNG came out.

And that’s just the manga. DC has… well… pretty much nothing for me, but Evil Twin has Action Philosophers: Self Help for Ugly Losers, Marvel has Defenders 3 and Young Avengers 7, and Oni has the first issue of Polly and the Pirates.

From the SPX stack: THE COMPLETE CHIP DANGER: DAREDEVIL SQUIRREL

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Potential bias alert: My college of choice had a ridiculously pretty campus nestled (no, seriously, it was nestled within an inch of its life) in rural, western Ohio. It was all Georgian red-brick buildings and mature trees shading winding paths. I was always fascinated by the campus squirrels, because they seemed so well groomed and purposeful. They were like a rodent version of Disneyland employees. And I always thought they were up to something, that they had a really organized union and a break room, maybe in the attic of the art and architecture library.

So early-adulthood nostalgia might leave me predisposed in favor of The Complete Chip Danger: Daredevil Squirrel, a mini-comic by Bill Burg. I don’t think so, though, because this is an entertaining, well-crafted adventure.

It was originally published in 25 installments (24 chapters with an autobiographical intermission) in the Guilford College student newspaper during Burg’s time as an undergraduate. Each page is a chapter (except for the two-page conclusion), and Burg does fine work making the installment stand alone while contributing to the overall narrative.

It’s told from the perspective of Arthur, an average campus squirrel whose life is changed by friendship with the title character. Initially put off by Chip’s seemingly pointless recklessness and low standing with the rest of the squirrel community, Arthur comes to admire the daredevil outcast, especially after Chip helps Arthur through a low point.

Their relationship has ups and downs, though, as Arthur always has some ambivalence about Chip’s behavior. Arthur loves the thrill of leaping from roof to tree, but he’s haunted by thoughts of his own mortality, and he doesn’t understand how Chip can be so heedless. But there’s more to Chip than Arthur suspects, and it’s surprisingly moving to watch Arthur come to understand his friend. Like most animal stories, there’s real sadness here, but it’s balanced with plenty of comedy and adventure.

It’s densely written, but it never feels over-written. There’s plenty of narration and charming dialogue, but it never overwhelms the accompanying visuals. It’s a fine balance of words and pictures. (At $2 a pop, it feels like a ridiculous bargain for the amount of material you get.)

It’s also wonderfully drawn. Burg manages to make each of his characters distinct without going overboard. (As other species of squirrel blend into the campus community, the task gets easier.) He also does a nice balancing act between capturing realistic moments – squirrels scurrying up and down tress, foraging, making wild leaps – and some charming anthropomorphizing, which I won’t describe in any detail because it’s fun and surprising to watch it unfold.

The Complete Chip Danger is just a really impressive comic. It’s a simple, engaging story told with real craft and imagination. And it provides a satisfying answer to just what those squirrels were up to on the quad.

Diary of a dork

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I went to Small Press Expo and had a wonderful time, in spite of the fact that I think I have really poor comics convention skills. I’m generally bad at initiating conversation with people I don’t know, and I came to the realization that saying the name of my blog aloud is kind of mortifying. I’m not quite sure why, but it is, and I can’t seem to do it without stumbling over the words. (It didn’t come up very often, but every now and then someone would recognize my name, ask me where they’d seen it before, and embarrassment would ensue.)

So if I ran into you at the show and your impression was, “Wow, he’s a big dork,” don’t feel badly. You’re correct.

I did have great fun volunteering at the registration table and got to meet lots of interesting people and see how hard the SPX organizers work. By the end of my shift on Saturday morning, I knew the giddy thrill of being able to pretend I knew what I was talking about. If you’ve never put in a shift at SPX, I’d really recommend it.

In spite of the fact that I went in with no organized list of what I was looking for, I think I came away with lots of great stuff. I bought tons of mini-comics, some graphic novels and single issues, and, best of all, one of the awesome Owly t-shirts. I haven’t had time to read through a lot of my haul yet, but I think Raina Telgemeier’s mini-comics are really delightful, and while I’m not the target audience for The Baby-Sitters Club, I’ll probably have to pick it up to enjoy her illustrations.

Joanna Estep had some unlettered preview pages of her upcoming book for Tokyopop, Roadsong, and they looked really terrific. She was sharing a booth with Eric Adams, so I could pick up the third issue of Lackluster World. (Issue one, Pittsburgh. Issue two, Las Vegas. Issue three, Bethesda. Where will I buy issue four? Where?!)

Travel comics were a recurring theme in my purchases. I briefly considered waiting for the trade on La Perdida by Jessica Abel, but she was there, and the covers were beautiful, and if I hadn’t bought the singles, I wouldn’t have gotten the cool sketch she drew when she signed them. I got a couple of mini-comics from Justin Hall, who witnessed my con-related disabilities first hand when I left what I’d bought at his table. Yes, I’m just that addled, but he was very nice about it.

It’s not exactly an exotic locale (for me), but I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read so far of Elk’s Run, a series set in a mysterious mining town in West Virginia. And the creators were offering a great deal on the first three issues. I don’t know if Joshua Neufeld was there, so I didn’t get the chance to embarrass myself when I purchased his A Few Perfect Hours at the Alternative table.

I should note at this point that one of my Bad Idea Bears from a previous con was unable to attend SPX, which was disappointing for all concerned. He shouldn’t worry that no one was there urging me to spend, spend, spend, because Johanna Draper Carlson had an uncanny ability to appear at my shoulder and encourage me to buy things. Admittedly, most of them were things I was on the verge of buying to begin with.

Speaking of Johanna, she’s a great con buddy. She also was an excellent tour guide to the world of sushi, one of those culinary experiences I’d been avoiding but ended up really enjoying. (That almost always happens, and then I wonder why I waited so long.) She was also very tolerant with my almost complete lack of con survival skills.

I would certainly go again, if only for the shopping, though the show certainly had a lot more in its favor. Everyone seemed to be happy to be there, which is unusual in my admittedly limited con-going experience. In spite of the odd micro-climates of the venue (one could go from rain forest to tundra simply by turning a corner), there was plenty of enthusiasm and an enjoyably relaxed vibe to the whole weekend.

I heard that they’ll probably have to change venues for next year’s show. I certainly hope they’ll factor in the availability of good gelato when they pick a new site, because nothing gets you over the 4 p.m. crash like a scoop of espresso gelato, let me tell you.