I have no idea why, but I find myself gripped with the urge to find a terrible comic book and critically rip it to pieces. Maybe I’ve been too focused on formally reviewing books I like, and my hate muscles are crying out as they approach atrophy.

I realize that I really couldn’t fairly review a terrible comic in this state. First, it would require me to consciously seek out a comic I suspect of being terrible. (While I end up reading a lot of terrible comics, I can honestly say that I’m optimist enough to hope that they won’t be.) The thing that really makes a comic terrible, beyond the actual quality, is that it contradicts my expectations.

Beyond the fairness issue, there’s the expense. As much money as I throw at comics I hope will be good, I can’t quite bring myself to buy something like X-Force.

Maybe I’ll just go through the long boxes in the basement, find something that offended me to my core when I first read it, write it up, and get it out of my system.

Writer Gail Simone has continued her exclusive contract with DC Comics, and it’s easy to see why the publisher would want to hold on to her. Birds of Prey, Simone’s highest-profile comics work to date, is probably the best super-hero book DC produces.

The flexible premise allows for a range of stories. High-tech information broker Oracle (Barbara Gordon, formerly Batgirl) has teamed with adventurers Black Canary and the Huntress to, for lack of a more original description, fight crime and protect the innocent. Though it isn’t underlined, they take a more proactive approach, investigating unusual situations Oracle encounters through her network of sources.

This is an advantage if you tire easily of stories featuring villains acting specifically to aggravate or harm a comic’s protagonists. (Simone doesn’t avoid that kind of story entirely, but she keeps those kinds of events in proportion.) It’s refreshing to see heroes act to protect the public as opposed to the kind of damage control that results from more predictable grudge matches.

It’s one of a number of smart choices Simone has made with the book. Another is the recent distancing from the stable of Batman-related titles. Spinning off the events of the recent Gang War crossover, Oracle and company have left their Gotham City headquarters behind for a mobile base of operations. This ups the level of flexibility and frees the book from obligatory crossovers coming out of the Bat office. Along the same lines, Black Canary has broken off her relationship with unfaithful bastard Green Arrow, freeing the heroine of some baggage and rooting her more securely in Birds.

That said, Simone clearly delights in the vast playground that is the DC Universe. She makes appealing use of guest stars like Vixen, Gypsy, and others, and she’s always cognizant of her characters’ rich backgrounds. Continuity is an opportunity, not a burden, and the book strikes me as very friendly to new readers. (I’ve seen readers who are largely indifferent to DC back story say this about the book, too.)

Part of that accessibility has to be attributed to Simone’s focus on characterization. The cast is composed of experienced, mature adventurers, and they generally respect each other as such. There are conflicts – both Oracle and Black Canary show a worrying tendency to underestimate Huntress, though they’re getting better – but they stem from differences in philosophy. Oracle has a tendency to keep secrets, and Dinah’s peacekeeper nature is leavened by a judgmental streak. Huntress has traditionally (and I think disproportionately) been the black sheep of the vigilante community, but she’s downplaying her defensiveness in favor of a more cooperative approach. Any character combination pings nicely with natural chemistry because each character is strongly defined.

I’m particularly taken with Simone’s work with Huntress, who has been the morally inferior punching bag for Batman and his clique roughly since she first appeared. I’ve never really gotten the distinction Batman seems to see, and I’ve always attributed his disapproval to resentment of the fact that Huntress won’t fall into lockstep. Simone paints a more balanced picture in Birds. She plays Huntress as a more violent breed of vigilante, but Huntress is also committed to making her current situation work. She’s grateful to Black Canary and considers her a friend, and she and Oracle are gradually building a better relationship, despite some uncomfortable shared history. (They’ve both slept with Nightwing, and Huntress had a short, unsuccessful stint as Batgirl.) Huntress is proving her value to her colleagues, earning their respect. It’s a lot more rewarding than seeing her sulk over her daddy fixation with the Bat.

Simone has earned a reputation for folding comedy into solid super-hero storytelling. Some of her set pieces in Marvel’s Deadpool and Agent X are justly legendary (from Rhino being turned into a key chain to twin Hello Kitty assassins). The comedy here is more character-based, coming from three quick-witted women who often find themselves in extreme and absurd situations. It accentuates the action nicely, giving the adventure set-pieces and fight scenes an added dimension.

There’s a lot of talk about whether visuals by regular artist Ed Benes really serve what Simone is doing with this title. Some find them too reliant on cheesecake, and I have to say I fall into that camp. It’s too bad, because Benes is capable of truly spectacular action sequences that don’t need tits and ass to be impressive. He can also draw extremely sexy characters, both male and female, so it’s disappointing to see him get anatomical about it. Simone has rightly said in interviews that Benes includes wonderful “acting” in his illustrations. His figures and faces are varied and expressive. Still, he has a worrying tendency to cross the line from kinetic and sexy into ineffectively titillating. (It has the odd effect of suggesting a gene-spliced artist, half Cameron Stewart, half Paul Gulacy.) But that complaint is coming up with decreasing frequency, as Benes moves more to the Stewart end of the spectrum and gets better in synch with Simone’s style and tone.

And, ultimately, it’s Simone’s book, which is a very good thing indeed. She really strikes a wonderful balance of action, character, and comedy, even folding in fairly complex moral issues without getting maudlin about it. (Is Oracle right to keep secrets? How far will Huntress go to protect innocents or resolve a crisis? Who’s entitled to redemption?) As a result, Birds of Prey is a wonderfully mature entertainment that doesn’t feel the need to pat itself on the back about it. DC’s very lucky to have Simone locked into its roster for a bit longer, as she’s one of the best storytellers they have.

Christopher Butcher raises a very good point at comics.212.net about genre-centrism, so I’m going to take a break from comics today, and offer my thoughts on another form of entertainment.

Music. Specifically, Christmas music.

I kind of hate it. I hate that it’s everywhere you try and buy so much as a pack of cigarettes. I hate that it comes in so few flavors. I hate that commercials for slapdash Christmas CDs by truly terrible pop stars clutter the television airwaves.

I could go on, but I don’t have to, because Sars at Tomato Nation sums it all up nicely. Her description of the noise pollution of the average mall is particularly vivid:

“…a unique Christmas-music hell in that every store has a different song loop, each one blaring out the open front doors and competing not only with each other but with the mall’s own PA system, and the mall’s mix is extra-heavy on the sleigh bells and psychotically cheery trumpets in order to make itself heard over ringing cash registers, children screaming their heads off in terror because Santa smells like a rum-soaked diaper…”

Okay, so I don’t hate all of it, but what I do like is kind of weird. I guess it’s not so odd that I could confine my holiday-themed musical selections to the soundtrack from A Charlie Brown Christmas, which strikes every nostalgia nerve I have, beyond being just plain great music.

It gets weird when I look at the great mountain of depressing Christmas music that seems to have collected in our house. It’s all very restful on the surface, but ultimately somber and kind of unnerving. Imagine the most depressing holiday movie you’ve ever seen, and put in a wordless montage where the family is gathered in the waiting room at the hospital to see if grandpa is going to survive the drunk driving accident he got into on the way home from mass (because losing grandma would be hard enough), and then imagine the music that would score that scene as, say, Blythe Danner tries to comfort her family. Yeah, that’s the kind of Christmas music we like in our house.

(Sidenote: The most depressing holiday movie I’ve ever seen is The Last Best Year, starring Mary Tyler Moore as a psychologist and Bernadette Peters as her terminally ill patient. They move Christmas forward to allow Bernadette to enjoy the holiday one last time with her small but loyal circle of friends and… damn, it’s sad. Great, but sad. They’ve never aired it again, to my knowledge, not even on Lifetime.)

Also beloved in our household is Do You Hear What We Hear?, the Christmas album by Kiki and Herb, the profoundly disturbed lounge-act alter-egos of Justin (Kiki) Bond and Kenny (Herb) Mellman. Part cabaret act, part Edward Albee, part primal scream therapy, part deranged musicologists, these two will twist the most horrifying sentiments out of seemingly innocent holiday standards. My favorite track from the CD is probably Whose Child is This?, a medley of What Child is This?, Deep Inside by Mary J. Blige, and Crucify by Tori Amos. They really have to be heard to be believed. Even better, go see them. But sit in the back, if you can.

What monthly comics are worth the investment? Which ones actually seem to be complete entertainments, even if they’re part of an ongoing arc? I’ve been wondering about this as the number of titles that pull this off seems to shrink.

It’s not that I think the quality of corporate comics is drastically on the decline (which isn’t to say that it’s spectacularly high, either). It just seems like “writing for the trade” is having more of a negative impact on the integrity of the individual monthlies. Very often, it’s like a publisher has taken an arc, divided pages by 20, and put out the pamphlets accordingly, whether or not those 20 pages constitute a satisfying product.

This was highlighted for me over the weekend as I read the third collection of DC’s much-loved Starman. Writer James Robinson seemed to master the art of making each issue a satisfying story on its own merits, while still composing multi-issue arcs that would read beautifully in one sitting. I started reading the series about halfway through its run, and I’ve filled in the gaps in my collection with trades. It’s equally strong in either format. (I’m also wondering if it might not be worth it to sit down sometime and read the whole damned thing in sequence, because it seems like it would stand up to that magnificently.)

So who’s accomplishing this now? Because I’m clearly obsessed, She-Hulk comes immediately to mind. Writer Dan Slott leans towards shorter arcs and stand-alone stories, but each issue is still entertaining in its own right. Joss Whedon, one of the “real writers” discussed by Paul O’Brien in the latest Article 10, comes pretty close in Astonishing X-Men. It’s not surprising, as he’s always had a handle on pacing. One could view the individual episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer as single issues in longer story arcs.

Ed Brubaker seems to have a solid handle on this technique as well. I’m getting a bit impatient with Sleeper, but I’ve read parts in both collection and monthlies, and he strikes a nice balance. Better still is his work on Gotham Central, along with co-writer Greg Rucka. Brubaker’s first issue of Captain America passed the value test, too.

The same goes for Andy Diggle, who’s been doing a bang-up job with Adam Strange. Diggle should get extra points for going to this extra effort in a limited series, a breed of books which seem destined for collections from the outset. (As a counter-example, I thought the first issue of Marvel’s Ultimate Nightmare was the most malnourished single comic I’ve ever read and never bothered with the second.) I’m a little unenthusiastic about the current storyline in Losers, but Diggle still makes sure each issue is a satisfying whole.

I’m not wild about many of his choices in terms of storytelling, particularly tone, but comics by Geoff Johns invariably seem like whole comics. Say what you will about JSA, Teen Titans, or Flash, but I don’t think you can criticize them for a shortage of content or for ignoring their monthly format. (Feel free to say whatever you like about the quality of that content. Lord knows I do.) I am wild about most of her choices in terms of storytelling, and I think you can pay the same compliment to Gail Simone of DC’s Birds of Prey. She hasn’t been one hundred percent successful (I thought the bi-weekly cult arc from this summer was padded), but she has an excellent track record overall.

I wish I could come up with more indie or small-press examples, but the pamphlets I like (Street Angel, Amelia Rules!) have a somewhat erratic publishing schedule, so it’s hard to categorize them in the same way. I have to appreciate Oni’s increasing number of original graphic novels; if a story works best in a given format, why use the industry fallback position out of habit? Why publish something in monthly chapters if it doesn’t suit it, if it’s arbitrary and artificial to the story being told?

(Edited to pound myself in the head for forgetting to include Peter David’s Fallen Angel. Johanna Draper Carlson has a terrific review of the latest issue here.)

Ed Cunard is taking a short break from the Low Road, but he’s hired the much-missed John Jakala as a blog-sitter. John, bless him, immediately busts open the liquor cabinet, uses the good china to make microwave nachos, and dances around to Top 40 in his underwear. In other words, he reviews a whole bunch of super-hero comics. Like all right-thinking people, he thinks She-Hulk is swell.

I’d been wondering why Peiratikos has been so quiet lately. Turns out there’s an awfully good reason, and contratulations to Rose and Steven.

Speaking of milestones, Mike Sterling has been experiencing Progressive Ruin for a year now. (I hope the Associated Comics and Pop Culture Webloggers of Ventura County, CA and Outlying Environs take him out for a beer, or something.)

BeaucoupKevin has jumped on to the Comics Weblog Update merry-go-round. I love his summary of New Avengers 1: “It’s, I dunno, The Nu Marvel Champions From Movies Zoo Crew or something.”

And a bloggerly welcome to the Crocodile Caucus, which immediately curries my favor by liking DC’s Manhunter.

As Girl Genius begins, Agatha Clay is having a terrible day. Her locket has been stolen, and she’s late for work at Transylvania Polygnostic University, where the intimidating Baron Wulfenbach has arrived for a surprise inspection. Then, things get worse.

Agatha’s life isn’t all roses to begin with. She works hard, but she seems to lack the inventive spark of her mad-scientist colleagues. She barely remembers her real parents, and her beloved uncle disappeared over a decade ago. She’s also prone to blackouts.

But, under the guidance of creators Phil and Kaja Foglio, Agatha’s luck seems to be changing. Whether it gets better or worse remains to be seen, but the first two collections of Girl Genius make it clear that finding out will be loads of fun.

The Foglios bill Agatha’s story as “a gaslamp fantasy with adventure, romance and mad science,” and that’s as good a description as any. As they put it, “the Industrial Revolution has become an all-out war.” Rival politicians jealously guard their promising “sparks,” or mad scientists, developing constructs to advance their mysterious agendas.

Despite her keen mind and strong work ethic, Agatha’s resigned herself to the conclusion that she isn’t a spark so much as a plodder, destined to assist others in their work rather than pursue her own mad science. It soon becomes clear that she’s laboring at a disadvantage, part of a conspiracy to protect her true identity (even from her). Agatha is actually tied to the legendary Heterodyne clan of scientific adventurers, but why they’ve chosen to obscure this is unclear, and the secret is starting to fall apart.

The first volume, Agatha Heterodyne and the Beetleburg Clank, focuses on Agatha’s last, bad day at Transylvania Polygnostic. The second, Agatha Heterodyne and the Airship City, puts Agatha in custody of the Baron in his floating school for sparks. The Foglios introduce a rich range of wonderful characters, particularly in Airship City. Agatha’s fellow students (who happen to be trapped against their will), the Baron’s various henchpersons (like terrifyingly buxom headmistress Von Pinn and the adorably savage jagermonsters), and the Baron’s surprisingly decent son Gil make for a sweetly bizarre ensemble. Agatha herself is wonderfully sympathetic; she’s smart, enthusiastic, and self-possessed, even in circumstances entirely beyond her control.

Art by Phil Foglio, along with inks by Brian Snoddy (volume one) and colors by Mark McNabb (introduced in volume two) is appealingly cartoony but with a solid, science-fantasy style. It’s perfectly suited to the story, which has comic elements while creating its own believable universe. The Foglios aren’t just borrowing genre tropes so much as using them to forge a playful new mythology.

I loved the almost sepia quality of the first collection’s black-and-white illustrations (with the exception of a short piece showing a glimpse of Agatha’s future, with colors by Laurie E. Smith). Nice as that was, the full, vibrant colors in the second collection serve Girl Genius wonderfully well. (I’ve decided it’s like when Dorothy wakes up in Oz, leaving homey, monochromatic Kansas behind.)

But in black and white or full color, Girl Genius is an engaging, inventive treat. The Foglios are telling a funny, exciting story that values smarts, heart, and an open mind.

Marc at Howling Curmudgeons perfectly summarizes what I don’t like about Ultimates:

“Mark Millar has always exhibited a tendency to build his self-promotion into his narratives, writing stories that incessantly remind us how awesome or transgressive they are. That tendency has become even more pronounced in his recent Ellis- and Bendis-chameleon mode, and understandably so: Millar aping those two is self-aggrandizement squared.”

Speaking of awesome, Dan Slott has a question for readers over at Comic Book Resources:

“I’ve seriously been toying with the idea of pitching a four issue ‘Awesome Andy’ mini to the guys at ‘Marvel Age.’ Four done-in-one stories for all ages about what Awesome Andy does on his weekends and days off. Kind of like Curious George stories. Like, ‘Awesome Andy Goes to the Zoo’ or ‘Awesome Andy and the Treasure Map.’ What do you guys think?”

I love this idea so much that I choose to believe it’s already in production. It’s always a treat to read interviews with Slott, and this one is no exception. Here’s his system for striking the right tone (which he does without fail) in his delightful She-Hulk:

“Step One: taking the comics-must-be-dark-and-gritty-stick out of my ass. Step Two: not caring if some readers roll their eyes. And Step Three: not caring that there’s no Step Three.”

Many thanks to CBR staffer Arune Singh for this fun read. Now I’m off to come up with a twee, pro-Awesome Andy acronym.

So I bought New Avengers 1, and it’s not bad. It’s got about a third of the content I think a reader can reasonably expect in a single issue, but it’s a pretty good third of an issue.

As I’d hoped, Brian Bendis does a whole lot better with his own cast than he did with the traditional line-up and steers clear of any significant references to Disassembled beyond “the team broke up” level. (There’s a “previously” page at the front, but it’s easily ignored and it isn’t really needed.)

That said, there just isn’t enough material here to justify a monthly expenditure. I think I’m going to drop it from my reserve list and wait for the trade, provided the first arc gets decent word of mouth. If this issue is any indication, this story won’t be a satisfying read for me in an episodic format.

I had planned to throw in some “who the hell is Sentry?” Usenet links, but Google Groups has apparently decided that cluttered and baffling is better than orderly and accessible, so check here for more information. (Can anyone recommend a good newsgroup reader, because Google’s beta set-up is awful.)

“I’ve gotten tired of people calling Christopher Reeve a hero. A really terrible thing happened to him and our society can’t deal with it when terrible things happened so we try to make out that it isn’t a terrible thing – ‘It’s an uplifting thing. He’s a hero.’ He’s not a hero, he’s in hell.”

Three guesses who said that, and the first two don’t count! It’s part of Newsarama’s coverage of a Q&A at the Mid-Ohio Con, and it’s followed up with the explanation that Byrne wasn’t criticizing Reeve. He was just defending the English language from misuse.

Wait until The V hears about this.

I tricked the Pickytarian into trying DC’s Manhunter. He’s not quite as keen on it as I am, but he’s interested enough to give it a few more issues. (Plus, his reviews are always a pleasure to read, even if our opinions don’t always match up.)

Being a total packrat, I’m fascinated by the concept of disposable comics, particularly in the context of manga. After a quick web search, I found this really interesting interview at the Slush Factory. It’s a couple of years old, but it has some great material in it. My favorite quote was from artist Tony Leonard Tamai, who taught me that manga aren’t just fun to read, they’re environmentally sound:

“And, if you recycle the pulp paper, you get more manga post consumer printed pulp. Also, I do know that the Japanese print industry has also been using Soy ink, so less chemicals end up seeping into the ground, and, more importantly, into your body. You’d be surprised if you knew how toxic some printing inks and varnishes were involved in printing a spiffy 4-color deal.”

Desperate Housewives fans (me included) at the Grotesque Rampage Forum are trying to figure out where they’ve seen Wisteria Lane before. The houses have a rather grand and glorious tube history, but, like Johanna, I’d still swear I’ve heard that street name on another television program. It’s making me crazy, so if any couch spuds out there can ease my mind, I’ll be mighty appreciative.