What Collected Editions or Graphic Novels Would You Want With You On a Deserted Island

I just saw this post over on SF Signal tonight and followed up and read Part 1. Which graphic novels I'd want with me on a desert island is a topic I’ve thought about a lot.
The interesting thing about the limitation of not allowing titles like Dark Knight Returns, Watchmen, or Maus, is that none of those titles would make my list regardless.
So what collected editions and graphic novels would I want with me if I were stuck on a deserted island?

Robert’s Deserted Island Collected Editions and Graphic Novel Collection Part 1

Planetary: Absolute Edition by Warren Ellis, John Cassaday, and Laura Martin (nee DePuy)

Planetary is very close to being my all-time favorite series. It's a 27 issue limited series plus three one-shot crossover issues published separately that took about 11 years to complete.
My discovery of Planetary was almost accidental. I bought The Authority #1 because of the gorgeous Bryan Hitch / Paul Neary artwork and widescreen action. I enjoyed the story as much as the art. Someone in the comics shop told me that Planetary and Authority were going to crossover, so on a whim, I picked up the last copy of Planetary #1 and the then new issue #2. I was hooked. Planetary #3 with the Hong Kong ghost cop may very well be my favorite single issue of any superhero comic ever.

Laura Martin is the first comics colorist whose work I followed as I would pencilers, inkers, or writers. She "grew up" in Wildstorm's coloring group and helped computerized coloring progress out of the "gee whiz" era of the early and mid 90's into a mature artform. It was in reading some of what Warren Ellis had written about Laura in the early days of Planetary that led me to pay attention to her work and that of other colorists over the years.
John Cassaday is the other "unknown" talent that came out of Planetary. Cassaday's work on Planetary is another case of watching an artist fully come into his own and have his style develop to insane heights. It was Planetary that led to John getting Astonishing X-Men which is one of the most beautiful X-Men series in a very long time to come out of Marvel, regardless of how I feel about Joss Whedon's writing on the series.

As beautiful as Cassaday's art and Laura Martin's coloring is on the standard comics page; they are phenomenally gorgeous in the enlarged size of the Absolute Editions. If you can't get the Absolute Editions (Vol. 1 & Vol. 2), there is a Complete Authority collection out this January (now) that collects the entire series including the three crossovers.

You can also get The Planetary Omnibus, which contains the entire series in one large, oversized volume. The paper isn't quite as good. It's convenient to have in one volume that you can pack in that large suitcase you will have to check.

The Witching Hour by Jeph Loeb and Chris Bachalo

The Witching Hour is one of those titles that is just offbeat, and you will either like it or you won't. First, I have to say that Chris Bachalo is one of my all-time favorite artists. I didn't become familiar with his work until Generation X and the two Death limited series but once I did, I followed his work like a hawk. Secondly, I have to say that I'm normally not a huge fan of Jeph Loeb's comics writing. Somehow in this series, Loeb managed to impress me.

This quirky book deserves a post of its own. I describe The Witching Hour as Fantasy Island meets Leverage. It's the story of Grey and his compatriots as they try to help people by giving them the opportunity to be better. As in real life, most of the time, those they are seeking to help slip right back into the morass they managed to climb out of but occasionally someone manages to stick it out and fight their way back on top.

It was a four issue square bound series. It's out of print, but I've had no problem finding the issues and graphic novels on eBay for reasonable if not cheap prices.

GI Joe: A Real American Hero by Larry Hama and friends

Like many kids who grew up in the 80s, the first comic book series that I followed faithfully was GI Joe: A Real American Hero, written almost entirely by Larry Hama.

What can I say about Larry Hama? The man is a craftsman. He is a talented artist, drawing the famous "Silent Issue", issue #21, but it is as a writer that Mr. Hama shines.

One of my favorite issues of the series was #34 where Ace and Lady Jaye in the Sky Striker go up against Wild Weasel and Baroness in the Rattler. It was this cool two scene (by scene, I mean the interior of the two planes) story where each set of characters were interacting together and with each other without any real communication happening between the two aircraft.

Other favorites were the issues of Storm Shadow's various transitions, including being somewhat possessed by the ancient warriors that were used to build Serpentor briefly.

The bonds between the "brothers" Storm Shadow and Snake-Eyes were some of the best moments in the series.

One of the big elements that run through the series, again and again, is the constant struggle between vengeance and forgiveness. There is the story arc of Zartan and his time pretending to be the Blind Master and trying to redeem himself only to slide back into being a criminal thanks in no small part to the machinations of Cobra Commander. There is also the scene where Storm Shadow and Snake Eyes reconcile after Storm Shadow breaks into the Pit II.

GI Joe: A Real American Hero had well developed plots with complex characters and very rarely, if ever, completely dropped a subplot, even if it took years to circle back around to resolve it. In many ways, GI Joe did a better job of being the book that Chris Claremont tried to make the X-Men in his 80s stories. Somehow Larry Hama could keep up with the balls he kept throwing in the air better than most other creators.

X-Men Inferno by a whole bunch of people

There is an entire group of X-Book crossovers that happened around this time. Some of them were good, and others weren't.

Inferno was the grandaddy of them all. It touched not only the X-Books but crossed over and affected almost every Marvel title at the time. It is one of the rare crossovers whose effects were felt for years to come. From the transition of Cyclops's wife into the Goblyn Queen and beyond to Hobgoblin's transformation into a real demon/goblin in the Spider-Man books, The Inferno transformed elements of the entire Marvel Universe either directly or indirectly.

Inferno is when the world including their former colleagues who were part of the teams Excalibur, X-Factor, and New Mutants learned that the Uncanny X-Men were still alive having been thought dead for some time.

The artwork by Marc Silvestri was dynamic and kinetic and beautiful.

Mutant Massacre by a very similar bunch of people

In many ways, the Mutant Massacre was felt just as widely as the Inferno, but it was also a much quieter crossover. Much of the action happened offscreen. We mostly heard about what was going on. Also, this was during the (first) time that Magneto had joined the X-Men and was the headmaster of the school. This meant that the New Mutants were Magneto's responsibility, and he didn't know where they were or what was going on with them.

The thing that makes the Mutant Massacre so rereadable is the emotions come through in many of the titles that were involved. It's the subtlety and the overwhelming sadness that affected the entire X-Men corner of the Marvel Universe.

The Immortal Iron Fist by Matt Fraction, David Aja, and friends

I've written about The Immortal Iron Fist before. All I'll add today is that The Complete Immortal Iron Fist Volume 1 was released and I bought it to keep in my truck so that when I was somewhere stuck waiting without didn't have a book with me (yeah right), I'd have something to read.

Hawkeye by Matt Fraction, David Aja, and friends

Hawkeye is by the same core team that gave us Immortal Iron Fist. It's a street level Hawkeye book. It's Fraction's love letter to The Rockford Files.

Fantastic Four Visionaries: John Byrne by John Byrne

John Byrne's run on Fantastic Four, as cliched as it is, is right up there with Jack Kirby and Stan Lee's run. He did more with these characters than anyone else since Jack and Stan and up until I'd dare say Matt Fraction, Mark Bagley, and Mike Allred's recent run.

There was the destruction and replacement of the Baxter Building. You had Doom II / Kristoff coming into power. Thing stayed behind on Beyonder World and the recruitment of She-Hulk, possibly bringing She-Hulk the status she deserves. Sue Storm-Richards coming into her own and her transformation from Invisible Girl into Invisible Woman.

Fantastic Four Visionaries: Walt Simonson by Walt Simonson

This was one of the most fun runs on the Fantastic Four. We had time travel. We had adventures. We had dinosaurs. And of course, the "resurrection" and return of the one true Dr. Doom.
Plus we got the Fantastic Four II team of Hulk, Spider-Man, Wolverine, and Ghost Rider all drawn by Arthur "Don't Call Me Art" Adams for a three issue adventure.
All-Star Superman: Absolute Edition by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely
I think this may be my all-time favorite Superman story in spite of Grant Morrison doing his best to create the ultimate Superman story.

All-Star Superman by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely

All-Star Superman crams in almost every trope of the Silver Age Superman stories into 12 issues and makes it work as a cohesive whole. The artwork by Frank Quitely feels like some of his best. It's almost like they almost gave him enough time to do it the way he wanted to do it.
It also fulfills the promise of every Superman story that Grant Morrison has ever told including the DC 1,000,000 mega event of the early 2000s. We get to revisit some of the future Supermen one more time and see where they originated.

All-Star Superman can be read and enjoyed completely on its own. The only exception is the Jimmy Olsen references. If you've never seen the stories where he gained powers and tried to be a superhero, you might not appreciate the jokes. Even with that caveat, if you happen to be aware of any of the other material referenced, it makes the experience all the more full but you can enjoy the title thoroughly without it.

Grendel War Child by Matt Wagner

All of Grendel would qualify but Grendel War Child would be a must. It’s my favorite of all of the Grendel tales. I’m not sure if it’s the whole Paladin protecting the young "prince" or if it’s the fancy lightsaber, but there are elements of this story that resonate with every post-apocalyptic heroic tale I’ve ever read or seen in movies. I can read this one over and over again.

I'd go with The Grendel Omnibus Vol. 4 because it's a highly portable volume and it contains not only War Child but the other parts of the Grendel Prime's story.

Titles That Are Conspicuously Absent From This List

Watchmen

I read it once. I liked it. I can't possibly ever read it again. I've tried. It's too bad too. I like some of the characters, like Rorschach, whom we're not supposed to like too much, and Ozymandias. It could be that I came to Watchmen several (I think 10) years after it was released and I had read so many of the pretenders and copycats that came out after.

Dark Knight Returns

Of the holy trinity, this one could almost make my list. I do reread The Dark Knight Returns. It's hokey and dated and yet at the same time, it's very readable regardless of the era.
Carrie Kelly is the star of this book, not Bruce Wayne or Batman. Superman is a parody of himself and treated as such.

Maus

It's a damn good book but I can't reread it over and over again while stranded on an island. I do revisit it from time-to-time. It's good for a reread but it bums me out too much to have in my Deserted Island Collection.

Tell us what comics or graphic novels you'd want with you if you were stranded on a desert island in the comments.

Air Vol. 1: Letters from Lost Countries

I am taking a few minutes to gather myself after a Dr. Who marathon to comment on Air.

The title and premise were intriguing when I first spotted it on Vertigo Comics. M.K. Perker's cover is neat and suggestive.

Throughout the first five pages, I kept reminding myself that Veritgo's a groundbreaknig imprint (a claim they make in the ad for Air)--convincing myself that I should give it a bit more time. Two pages later, I finally gave up on it and pawned it off on Zimm.

My only regret? Not saving it for Half Price Used Books.

Pass on this one.

Bayard

Hatter M: The Looking Glass Wars

I have just begun the second volume of Frank Beddor's The Looking Glass Wars--Hatter M, Vol. 2: Mad With Wonder. And I am smitten, but I am not sure why.

The storyline is clever and engaging. The battles of Wonderland have begun to flow over into our own past. (Perhaps it is our past.) The Mad Hatter is Hatter Madigan, in this telling, Wonderland's equivalent of a Secret Service,-Navy Seal-Ninja bodyguard to the royal household. We follow the hat and knife wielding defender in his search for the lost Princess Alyss.

So far the narrative's focus on Madigan. Reminiscent of a fantastical Batman, the hatter moves through the moral no mans land of our past in his search for the missing princess. At times, the narrative slows to a halt, as Beddor engages his characters in traditional, well worn and tried, comic book battles and dialogue.

Ben Templesmith's artwork is what captivates, rescuing the graphic novel from the commonplace. The drawings are suggestive, provocative. No, not sexually. They provoke the imagination--forcing the reader to complete the images, the battles--forcing the reader to look closer. In this way, it reminded me of Kevin O'Neill's work in The League of Extraordinary Gentleman. This is what graphic novels bring to the table--what the genre adds to the canon. The images are essential.

It seems The Looking Glass Wars--novels, games, and graphic novels--is Automatic Pictures' sole franchise. I would be curious if anyone knew more about the publishing house and artist.

It's a fun read. If you haven't already, pick this up.

Bayard

Post Weekend Update

Despite my allergies and the fact that someone took my "All Star Batman & Robin", I had a blast this weekend.

However, I had recently picked up some graphic novels and had planned to sit back and enjoy Frank Miller and Jim Lee's All Star Batman and Robin. No, I havn't read it - yet. I was planning on checking it off my list this weekend. Yet, the one I had was taken from me and never seen again. Leaving me with counter 'leftovers' - Neverwhere and Air.

I hate to admit it, but I enjoyed Neverwhere. I wanted more, but I enjoyed how the story ended. I can't wait to read book 2, but is it going to drag out something I already enjoyed? Should I dare take a chance on book 2? Yeah, I guess so. I will probably end up ordering the series.

Unless, Robert can save me the time and money!

Unless, someone can tell me that the store drags on, and the first book is the only one worth reading.

But alas, since I can't seem to spot the All-Star Batman & Robin #1 anywhere in my apartment, I will have to force myself up to the local comic store to look for book 2 of the series....or should I simply read the Neverwhere novel?

The Great Fables Crossover: Fables 13

Clever and engaging. Willingham and Sturges deliver a postmodernist literary criticism graduate course camouflaged as a graphic novel. The characters willfully, gleefully, recognize the audience, the writers, and the editors. (Perhaps most engaging is Blue Ox's discomfort at being the focus of more than a single page.)

Again, Willingham and Sturges reflect on the nature of writing, narrative structure, and the relationship between audience and writer. Even if the narrative suggests that the writer brings the text to the reader, Willingham and Sturges create and rely on a reader who must bring a meaning that is not defined by traditional notions of textuality. Their readers must redefine their relationships with the characters. (The writers have been reading too much Prince and Iser.)

More importantly, their critical agenda never disrupts the tale. Goofy, clever, moving, Fables is a fun read. It's a good story.

As I have said elsewhere, this stuff is ripe for the academic publishing machine. Read it despite that. And the next time you are in the comicbook store, ask the clerk if the latest installment continues to privilege Frye's notion of audience over Iser's. When he answers, hesitate as if it really matters. Then pre-order it. You know the truth.

Bayard

Batman: The Killing Joke

To avoid having to watch some Redbox flick with Zimm, Jamie, and the Wife, I have escaped to comment on the Batman: The Killing Joke.

Alan Moore's story is engaging--although I am enjoying Miller's All Star Batman and Robin a bit more. The gentle compassion of Batman and Jim Gordon's friendship emphasizes their brutality and determination, their raw force--and that is what the narrative is really about.

The characters, the story, and the scenery are beautifully rendered by Brian Bolland. He includes a gentle, almost imperceptible 1940's touch that gives the storyline a depth that moves the story well beyond the written text. But then the Batmobile arrives. Smiple, flat, unimaginative, the car threatens to disrupt. It stands out and distracts--like Scooby Doo prancing into a Miyazaki flick.

As usual and is to be expected, I am behind the times. Either way, read the comic--but not for a history lesson on Joker (yawn).

Read it for an insight into Gordan and Batman's friendship, to learn the true power of a bromance. And once you have follow it up with (in the following order) Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Star Trek, Sherlock Holmes. Finish with T.H. White's The Once and Future King.

Funny our discomfort in acknowledging the intimacy of two males. We can watch a bunch of middle-aged women yodel in a kitchen about the shortage of worthy men--but two men facing the vicissitudes of fate, relying on their strength and love for one another, makes us ponder, hesitate, and draw crappy cars.

Bayard

Hodgson's The House of the Borderland

Looking through Vertigo's website is always a bit of fun. A few weeks back, I went through a spending spree. Planetary and Air both ended up in my mailbox--as did Simon Revelstroke's adaptation of William Hope Hodgson's The House of the Borderland.

Richard Corben's artwork somehow does not fit a late Victorian horror novel. The thick lipped, roughly hewn characters, lack the aristocratic delicacy that would open them to the horrors beneath the house. The author of the manuscript seems better suited to Zulu battles in South Africa or trapping in the Rockies.

Revelstroke. sadly, captures the cumbersome, convoluted prose of Hodgson. The story's premise is an engaging one. But the confusion and ambiguity that leads to the crisis of consciousness, the blurring of realities, has less to do with a deft manipulation of readers than with wordiness.

Of course, I may be alone in this--the thing was nominated Best Graphic Novel of 2003 by The International Horror Guild. Go figure.

For me, the graphic novel is a neutral; the original novel would be a definite pass. If you are looking for obscure late Victorian gothic/fantasy writers, go with Algernon Blackwood's The Wendigo first.

Bayard

Carey and Fabry's take on Neverwhere

I have always distrusted comic adaptations of literature. (When I was much much younger, we had comic book versions of Treasure Island and Last of the Mohicans—not that anyone can do much damage to Cooper’s writing.) Classics Illustrated seemed somehow subversive. Egalitarian.

Despite my misgivings, I ordered Mike Carey and Glenn Fabry’s Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. Even the title warned me of my folly. Is it a graphic novel about a novel that belonged to Gaiman? Or is it simply a marketing ploy—two guys riding on Gaiman’s coattails? Either way, the title is terrible.

Reading the introduction only confirmed my fears. Carey begins with a two page apologetic convincing us that Gaiman is a deity (up there with Matsou Basho) and the graphic novel is, well, it is a tribute, celebration, a psalm. Disappointed and forewarned, I started. What choice did I have?

Actually, I didn’t start it; I was swallowed. Like Mayhew, I disappeared into London Below. Into Carey’s world, Fabry’s world. Door did not look like I had expected. I didn’t care. The narrative twisted aside; I followed. It is one of those reads that you finish hours later, a little dizzy, a little disoriented, and frustrated—I wanted more.

One of the glories I have discovered in this geeky world of comics, graphic novels, statues, and ghost hunters is its unwillingness, refusal to bow to convention, authority—to a canon. More and more, though, as I read the introductions, I see a pecking order, a hierarchy, or oligarchy that would put the stuffiest, most hidebound of English Departments to shame. That, though, is a different rant.

If—like me—you are four years late, buy Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere. Scratch out Gaiman’s name on the cover, tear out the introduction, and settle back for a hell of a run through the world of London Below—which is too big for any one author’s narrative. And if you read it back in the day, stop again to notice what everyone else overlooks.

Bayard

Batman: The Book of Shadows

Okay, this is an older one-1999. After Batman Under the Hood, I needed another fix, so I pulled Batman: The Book of Shadows out of a pile of freebies I had been given--charity case that I am.

The coloring gives all of the characters a plastic texture--like new action figures fresh from the shrink wrap. And the demonic beasts all look to be distant relatives of the star of Alien. (A much more original representation of demons is in the episode of Millennium with four old men in a donut shop discussing their diabolic successes.)

The story line is as plastic and forced--a demon possessing people to to---well to do something that Batman just cannot allow.

DC looks to have poured some bucks into this one, but in the end, it is--despite the flashy packaging--unimaginative and almost boring. Stick with The Hood.

On a far different track, I just ordered Air and The House on the Borderland. Hopefully, both will fare better. I am curious if the Wildstorm badge differs markedly from Vertigo.

Note from Robert: Didn't Millennium steal that bit with the four old men as aliens from The Twilight Zone? Also the late 90s / early 2000s were not the best time to be a Batman fan.

Hard-Boiled Detectives

I have spent the weekend jumping between Joe Gores's Spade and Archer: The Prequel to The Maltese Falcon and Judd Winick's Batman: Under the Hood.

Sam Spade and Old School Detectives
Spade and Archer is less of a novel than a collection of short stories, recounting a series of cases filling the time between Sam leaving Continental Detective Agency and the arrival of Brigid, bringing news of the falcon.

Gores's is an interesting literary exercise. A Hammett scholar and an accomplished short story writer, Gores knows enough of Sam Spade's world to be able to recreate it. The novel, though, lacks the sharp hard edges of Hammett's narrative.

Reading it, I keep thinking back to Dark Horse's Star Wars series--Knights of the Old Republic and Legacies. All seem to lack the freshness, vividness of the originals--they are more of the same.

Batman and Epic Heroes

The same cannot be said, though, of Judd Winick's return to a different detective from the same time period. I have started volume two of Batman: Under the Hood, and I am captivated. Winick's writing is a wonderful mix of comic book violence and epic storytelling. (And the artistry keeps pace.)

One theorist holds that epics are too large, expansive, to fall into the tragic. If so, Winick has captured the voice of the epic bard, scop, and rawi. The Batman of Winick's world is surrounded by the potentially tragic; he is harried by hamartia; the cosmos has it out for him. But Batman's story, his world, and his character are all too too...to be taken down into the abyss of a catastrophe.

Winick's Batman follows in the footsteps of Ferdowsi's Rostam. Both are fathers who falter ever so briefly as they inadvertently destroy what they cherish. Neither is pulled down by their uncertainties; if anything, they are galvanized by the job that awaits. They have resolve.

Like San Jara, Odysseus, and Arthur, Batman is only fictional in the most trivial of ways. All of these champions are reflections of an ideal that the culture can hold out before itself--promising and threatening, "This is what awaits those who trifle."

Recommendation (for the few of you who may not have read Under the Hood)

Set aside time for the Bat--and you will be able to brag about having spent the weekend polishing off an epic.

Bayard

Red 5 Comics

Yesterday, I got a hold of some small press comics from Red Five Comics. (Independents?) Neozoic. Atomic Robo. Abyss. Drone. A friendly and enthusiastic rep was handing out freebies from some past wingding. I have only read two, but they did spur some initial thoughts.

Neozoic has an interesting premise: dinosaurs have survived and medieval-ish humans must battle with them for coexistence. The other, Atomic Robo, recounts the adventures of a 1920s atomic robot with artificial intelligence—not quite as exciting. Neozoic is reminiscent of Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard. The artwork reinvigorates the early nineteenth century, giving them a fresh, bold feel. Robo’s colors infused the sparse utilitarianism of 1940s industrialism with elegance. (Robo’s blue parka is a study of simplicity and texture. Not surprisingly, he has made it onto an iPhone ad.)

The storylines in both are rough, leaving passages and events unclear. Although Clevinger’s Atomic Robo is better executed than Ens’s Neozoic, both narratives fail to live up to the artwork—especially to the colors of Wegner in Robo and the art of Korim in Neozoic.
Perhaps I am easily dazzled by pretty pictures and impatient with rough hewn storytelling. Not sure. I am still a novice in this world. Either way, I reached the end of both stories without fully understanding how I arrived there.

A Question
With that rambling discourse in mind, would someone fill me in on the role and place of these small presses? Are the best and brightest snatched up by the corporate giants? Or do these indies provide new artists with a place to grow and polish skills?



No doubt, though. He is cool.

Recommendations?
I may fork out the $19 for Neozoic. (I have been a sucker for Tarzan and his cronies since I was twelve. Plus I like Lilli’s bellybutton much better than Robo’s dull sheen.) Then again, I may not. Hard choices have to be made, and the wife watches the AmEx bills closely. I may just download it on my PSP.

Bayard

The Umbrella Academy

The Umbrella Academy stumps me. It trots along with a straight-faced, unapologetic adventure all the while daring me to reject the visual and narrative hyperbole. Unlike Kick-Ass, which moves into and out of and back into a meditation on our relationship with comic books and their heroes, Umbrella Academy sticks to the story line—as strange and cryptic as it is.

I liked it—The Academy that is. Despite myself. Despite the strangely incomplete narrative. Despite its subversive challenge not to be taken seriously.

Someone said that watching The Maltese Falcon (or perhaps it was The Big Sleep) is like going down a staircase in the dark. Wish I had come up with that one for The Umbrella Academy. The characterizations overtake the storyline. But isn’t that the case with the all of the others? Batman, Spiderman, the Fables. Sam Spade. We read them not to see what happens; we read them to hang out with the crew.

And Kick-Ass? I am going to blaspheme. Hold off for the movie. The graphic novel vacillates between violent and sexual sensationalism—delivering plenty of both obscuring all else. (A round of CoD or Gears would have been a lot more satisfying.)

Bayard

Star Wars Legacy

Knights of the Old Republic put me off of Dark Horse's Star Wars series (especially after Robert's comments). I was determined not to return—until a free copy showed up in my mail. And even then, Legacy went to the bottom of the pile.

I finally gave into my curiosity. The draw was too strong.

It is not Fables or Dark Knight. And although the narrative moves quicker, more smoothly than League, it lacks some of the complexity. May be.

Some of the costumes are outlandish, and the characterizations unoriginal (the shapely females, the hulking men, the bizarre super villains reminiscent of death and demons). Nevertheless, the drawings are rich, almost thick on the page.

Thing is, the narrative catches me even as it echoes the original Star Wars trilogy. (Did they have to include R2 and a Wookie? Show some discipline guys.) In the same vein, I overlooked and continue to overlook the shortcomings of Hamill’s wooden performance in the original trilogy.

Lucas’s original coming of age story is intriguing, complex. And the same appears to be true with Legacy.

A young Jedi’s epiphany leads to a denial culminating in a bold new direction. At least, that seems to be the direction the graphic novel is headed. Based on Joseph Campbell’s theory of the monomyth, Luke operates as a mythic hero. Luke’s battle with the dark side and his reconciliation with his father dovetail with Campbell’s description of father atonement, one of the supreme ordeals a hero must undergo in the process of his quest. The hero comes to terms with his past, reinvigorating it even as he does so.

The work is a myth. (Nothing new here.)

So where does this leave Cade and Legacy? I am not sure. It is still too early. I am in the midst of his battle with the Sith and emperor (volume 3). Will he go through a similar supreme ordeal? No way to tell.

My fear is, though, that the graphic novel will bog down in a drawn out series that refuses to reach or recognize its conclusion. The quest must end—with success or failure. The hero can only remain on the journey for so long before he is lost in the other world, the world of adventure. Even if he capitulates, Parzival-like, the hero must either find the grail or oblivion.

Yes, I know the series has been out for a while, and some of you know the answer to all of this. For me, though, it is intriguing. Will this work transcend pulp fiction in the same ways Lucas was able to transcend his genre? Will it capture the mythic?

Or will it just keep rambling on like an Oscar recipient?

Bayard

League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Okay. So I bailed on Ghost Hunters for League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Having seen the movie too many times on AMC, I assumed I had a feel for the graphic novel.

Not so. The movie was a comic book version of a strange, uncomfortable text.

Surprisingly, the League is neither headed up nor staffed by gentlemen. Miss Murray, who has had a troublesome year prior to the start of the narrative is a miss, a woman. She runs herd on an opium addict (Quatermain), a pirate (Captain Nemo), a sex offender (The Invisible Man), and a schizoid (Dr. Jekyll and Edward). No gentlemen.

The narrative emerges slowly—like a Kurosawa movie. You have to give this one some time for the story to get underway. (Thankfully not as much time as The Seven Samurai or Rashomon.)

Deciphering the graphics held my interest until the narrative hook set. The men all vaguely resemble zombies, except for Nemo, who seems an extension of his complex industrial sub. The structures dwarf and dehumanize the humans, reducing them to small incomplete sketches. The people of the novel are simply another detail in the gigantic landscape of an industrialized, polluted empire. Like gods glancing down from the heavens, we have to squint to see what these creatures are up to. The tiny figures are often engaged in violent, erotic, ominous acts. Watching, we become voyeurs in their diseased world.

And that decadence seems to be the point. The empire is corrupt. The men short-sighted and fallen. The graphic novel is most engaging when the point is made subtly—as Quatermain and Edward enter the opium den. In the same vein, the story becomes tired and sophomoric when the authors and artists feel it necessary to emphasize the dehumanization (the guestroom in the girl’s boarding school).

With its drawings, fliers, games, and posters, the work can be a busy, sometimes tiring affair. And poking holes in imperialism or deconstructing machismo in this day and age is like shooting dead fish in an empty bucket.

With all of that said, the adventure is there. And I will continue. I want to know what has happened with the cavorite, and I am curious to see what other familiar characters I run into in this unfamiliar world.

Bayard

Jack of Fables Volume 3

The saga of my addiction continues and deepens.


After the punishment of Knights, I needed something, so I picked Jack of Fables back up. The contrast was immediate. Willingham and his crew have a grasp of the narrative; they know how to tell a story. And they play with it—challenging the boundaries of conventional narratives.


Every issue ends with Jack throwing out a teaser, commenting on the direction of the narrative. The small yellow boxes, though, mark this as a dialogue outside of the narrative; the boxes could be Jack’s comments to himself as he tells the story or some such clever two step.


But then Gary—the Pathetic Fallacy—warns Jack and John. He tells them that a disrupted and disjointed exposition is undermining the narrative; he goes on to explain that readers will be lost and that the issues will not have a neat conclusion.


The character is aware of the story in which he lives. The storyteller is aware of his narrator’s audience.

In both Fables and Jack, Willingham and friends are telling a story about storybook characters living outside of the storybook. Like Unwritten (review upcoming), these works can be labeled metafiction—fiction about writing fiction. A tedious, lengthy literary discourse could follow dissecting the significance of this sort of self-reflection—mirror held to a mirror. And perhaps, it should. Narrativity.


Perhaps. (If you are interested, I will send you files—no links for the literary elite. You could consider writing a paper and sending it to the Pop Culture Conference in Albuquerque.)


Strikingly, the narrative is not broken by the character’s refusal to abide by the dictates of the convention. Willingham, though, plows on. The plot continues. The conflict builds. Readers maintain their willing suspension of disbelief—despite the character’s audacious attacks on that disbelief.


The boundaries between fiction and reality are thin. Any sort of extended analysis of the break would be a foolhardy construct meant to bolster what has already been ruptured, to reassure ourselves that that is fiction and this is reality. We would be whistling against the dark—something Jack consistently does.


And as if to highlight the point—the illustrator puts Satan in a devil’s costume. Even Satan assumes his role, dresses the part, challenging the reader to notice that in the end he is just wearing a red suit.


Half-nude women, severed body parts, and dirty words are all much more titillating—for some of us. But this kind of manipulation of narrative threads is reminiscent of American Modernist and Indian epics.



Bayard Sartoris

Knights of the Old Republic

Sinking farther into my graphic novel addiction, I gave in this afternoon and spent my latest Border’s coupon on Dark Horse Comic’s Knights of the Old Republic: Commencement—passing over the newest installment of Fables.

Knights’ premise is what sold me. Set thousands of years before Star Wars: A New Hope the series chronicles the struggles of a young, falsely accused padawan. The graphic novel offered me the opportunity to delve farther into the Empire, the Republic. I was intrigued. At least for the first page.

The writing flounders—“Hang on a moment. My robe’s stuck.” What? “Hang on a moment”? The guy’s not putting his shoes on for a run to Mickey D’s. He’s a padawan surrounded by war, corruption, Sith, and other bad stuff. Flat and incongruous, the dialogue feels like one liners pulled from a bad Syfy movie. Climbing aboard a ship, a Jedi tells the foolish padawan, “Well, the war awaits. See you around, Zayne.” Uh, yeah. The exchanges stumble back and forth between awkward slang and misplaced formality.

Ching and Foreman’s artwork is beautiful; Atiyeh’s coloring is lush and vibrant. Their work combines to create an unimaginative knock-off of Lucas’s films. The same characters with the same robots occupy the same positions. Supposedly, the events are set millennia before A New Hope—not the weekend before. Has the galaxy’s technology been at a standstill for 4,000 years? How did the senator of this ancient world get a hold of Luke’s landspeeder?

Knights was a boring, tedious disappoint. I finished the thing, though. (I owed it to my coupon. I owed it to Fables.) The long list of titles in the back of Knights tempts me, calling to me with promises of past Sith machinations—not the least of which, I suspect, is pawning off poorly executed graphic novels to unsuspecting geeks.

Dreadstar: The Beginning HC

As a kid, this was one of the first non-standard superhero series that I read, and I LOVED it. I didn't know all about Jim Starlin. I didn't realize that he was the writer and artist. I didn't really care. This, in my opinion, was an incredible space adventure. Period. Besides, he had a really cool sword. I haven't read the book in years, but I think the memories of rereading the stories will be more enjoyable then the actual story.

Writer and Artist: Jim Starlin
List Price: $29.99
Sale Prices I've Seen: $23.99

As soon as I see it on Amazon, I will be ordering the book. This gets a solid, "Wahoo".