Web Comics - the new one-liners

I should be reading web comics. Everyone does these days. It's the new way to read comics, right? To me, they don't feel like comics. They feel like the .gifs and cheezeburger cat images you see on tumblr. Tempory, short, hilarious tidbits about everyday life. Me, I like a story I can get involved with, character I become attached to, scenes that can make me feel something more than a chuckle.

With this attitude I approached Octopus Pie by Meredith Gran. It was O.K. While still broken down into short segments, there was an over-arching storyline at work. It has both elements of 'web comics' and what I consider 'real comics'. There is character development and unusual people keep the story interesting. Unfortunately, I didn't connect with any of the characters myself, although I'm sure other have. I'm not lazy, so watching our poor main character Eve fail at taking control in her own life frustrated me. I've never had junkie friends, and I don't curse much--yeah, I run with a clean crowd--so what can I say about Hanna? She seems like someone I'd keep my distance from, and I don't want to get to know her. She-has-her-circle-I-have-mine kind of vibes. I enjoyed the comic where she went topless in the park, though. I've often wondered why girls have to cover up while guys get to go free (haha). So there was one set of ideals I connected with.

Call me old fashioned, but I prefer comics in book format. I'm not alone, either. Back in middle through high school, friends would ask me for my comic books so they could read them. I told them I'd posted it online, and that they'd have to go there to read (I'm not handing out my only original! It's like my child!). They always looked disappointed. In recent days, however, I think we've ALL gotten more comfortable with digital format. With tablet devices, it's now possible to curl up in bed to read without fumbling with a laptop.

Maybe I'll change my ways.

Superheros [extra long post for final]

Superheros are still a new experience for me. While I've heard of them on and off since I was young, I've never actually read, cover-to-cover, a superhero comic. I consider myself ignorant of the genre. When people start throwing out Marvel and DC characters and stories, it soars right over my head like Superman. For this week, I decided it had to change. At last, Katherine shall enter the world of western comics!

I began with a Hellboy comic off the webshare. The issue I picked up was obviously in the middle of a story already. What? Am I really supposed to believe that's Hitler in a robot? I was stunned. I had no idea what was happening. Monsters were coming out of trains, and bad guys were everywhere plotting things. Hellboy's universe seems quite accustomed to monster-people, which I thought was unusual and refreshing (superheros usually hide their power/appearance, right?). I loved seeing that big Dragon man character having a nice Christmas moment with a normal family. Rather comical.

Realizing that jumping into something wasn't a great idea, I decided I should start at the beginning. Yeah, I'll just read the very first issues of all the big names I'd heard of -- Superman, Spiderman, the Xmen, etc. Good thinking, Katherine. Doin' it right. I began surfing the web to see if I could purchase them used for cheap. Here's Spiderman #1 for $23,000.

I returned, defeated, to the webshare.

Alex Ross's Wonder Woman Spirit of Truth was my second attempt. I loved it! Stunning artwork aside, I followed the daring rescues by Wonder Woman with ease, taking in each painting one at a time. The story--or, moments--flowed like a montage, due to the lack of hard-edged panels and the placement of each scene all over the page. There were no words--not even on (what I assume to be) the cover. Because of this, it was up to me to piece together what I was seeing. It made me think about the order of events, and what Wonder Woman has gone through. While the comic itself was fairly short, it had that timeless aura about it. It felt like I had read it for several hours. At the very end, on a double page spread, there is text that describes her back story. Who knew Wonder Woman had any connection to Greek Mythology? Not I! What a perfect work for me to pick up--It felt like a great introduction to the classic Superhero.

Next I opened up  Y - The Last Man. Right off the bat I'm greeted by a guy in a straight jacket with a monkey. Oh boy. First impressions are not always correct, as I found out. This comic is good. Really good. The story itself if captivating--some unknown disease killed all male creatures on Earth, except one (our protagonist, Yorick). It feels like the authors were playing with "what if-" situations, then decided to fully flesh one out. The feminism is important in this comic, especially in the first chapter. Reading all the statistics at the end were eye opening. Wow, 85% of all government representatives are male. I thought we were essentially equal genders this day in age, but let's face it- women still get paid less. This comic is radical and educational, addressing real problems, while also telling a captivating story.
But wait, aren't I supposed to be reading about superheros? I had to dig deeper, but it's there. Our 'hero' Yorick finds himself in an unforeseen responsibility and is forced to deal with it. He's capable of things that no other person can (now) do. I suppose it equates.

 

Lastly, I gave The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen a shot. Right away the scenery reminds me  Edgar Rice Burroughs' A Princess of Mars. Perhaps it's intentional. The artwork got in the way of storytelling every now and then--I couldn't tell what I was seeing and how it connected to the proceeding panel. The artwork is busier than most comics. Like Hellboy, I'm not sure I 'got it'. There was a long article at the end of the comic that might have explained some things, but who wants to slow down and read that when you've been cruising through colorful pictures? 

There are immense quantities of superhero comics in the world. After having a taste of them, I realize that, just like every art form, comics vary greatly from artist to artist, even if those comics are in the same genre. Each one I read felt completely different from the last. I've just scratched the surface, but intend to further my research.

Fables

The idea is a fun one: Familiar fairy tale characters living in our world. Using the known knowledge of fairy tales upon which to draw up a new story line is brilliant. By re-creating pre-existing characters, the reader feels instantly familiar with the comic. It gives the reader clues as to the character's personality and motives, but isn't so obvious to be predictable. Every time we see a new character, it gets us guessing as to which fairy tale character they might be. I believe this is what brings the most joy into reading Fable.

But apart from learning about the characters, the story is captivating and new-aged. From chapter one, we are thrown into the Fables' tough situation. It is set long after their original fairy tales end, and everyone seems to be hard on cash and struggling to get by in the city (It's hilarious, really. I love the side story about the Pig). I couldn't help but think of a more recent take on this same idea--have you watched Once Upon a Time on HBO? Very successful and popular for the exact same reasons. People like seeing 21st century versions of their familiar fairy tale characters. By referencing and stirring all known fables together into one interesting story, Fable is the kind of comic you can't seem to put down. Wanting to know what happens next, as well as discovering more fairy tale characters, makes it a real page-turner.

Brenda Star, what a gal!

As I opened up the Brenda Starr comics on my computer screen, my mother (who was visiting) remarked that she recognized the name! However, my mother was used to the 80's style Brenda and had no idea that she went back to the 40's. Out of curiosity, we googled more about Brenda and were surprised to find that her comic had been published all the way up to 2011. We also learned that when Dale Messick retired, another female artist picked it up.  Brenda Starr has been a strong female character written by females for quite some time.

After sampling a number of the 50's Brenda Starr comics, I must say I'm quite fond of them. She's got everything the strong female lead needs-- guts, athleticism, perseverance, and intelligence. But the real icing on the cake is her clothing. She gets a scoop and follows it through, no matter what, while donning the latest fashion of the time. Even when climbing construction sites or diving off bridges, she looks pristine in her heels and tweed suit, or scarf, or hat, etc. In other words, she's got it all, and looks good doing it. As a 90's kid reading 50's Brenda Starr, the dated aspects of the comic make me smile. Her fashionable bob. That green tweed suit. The very style of the drawings.

Actions scenes in comics have come a long way.  This brings me to an interesting discussion about Brenda's action sequences. While serious stuff is going down (shots fired, people running, cars crashing, chase scenes...) the sense of excitement and involvement in the story isn't quite there. This is due to several things:
1. The panels are roughly the same size, so even an exciting car crash appears small on the comic page.
2. The camera angle is often farther back with little perspective put into the action, so it feels safe and distant.
3. Even when action is happening all over the place, 20-50% of the panel is devoted to a word balloon.

All in all, Brenda, Snapper, and the Chief Editor are all fun characters and have their moments. Brenda Starr was a successful, long running comic with a strong female character. I'm sure her very existence in comics helped pave a new view on females and feminism in stories.

Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli

So much can be said about Asterios Polyp by David Mazzucchelli.
First, there is style. Style alone in this comic conveys large elements of storytelling, primarily character development. When one thinks of 'artistic style' we generally predict that it is constant throughout a work. Mazzucchelli breaks this assumption and uses it to his advantage: Each character is drawn according to their personality (I might say their soul). Asterios: Geometric, logical, straight-edged. Hana: Abstract, Free-formed, emotional. While each character's personality comes across fine in writing, the use of these stylistic differences reinforces it and allows us to see how the characters influence each other.

If I may evaluate the ending. The reader experiences a brief moment of satisfaction and hope as the two main characters are reunited. Suddenly, A huge meteor is seen on the next page plummeting directly for Hana's house. My emotions read as follows: Shock, sadness (especially for Hana), and after sitting back and thinking about it, awe. How tragically fitting it is that Asterios, a man of order and logic, should be vanquished by something so random, something so infinitesimally unpredictable.

After some time, I plan to re-read this book. So much happened and there is so much to understand and digest--I feel I've only touched the surface. There were many layers and philosophies that were woven into the story--I didn't even mention Ignazio in this review--that could lead to further discussion.

Osamu Tezuka, God of Manga

As a tween, I sampled a fair amount of manga. Titles that circulated amongst my friends included Naruto, Bleach, Hana Kimi, Fruits Basket (a "shojou" favorite!). But even before this time, I was influenced by Japan. From my childhood, manga in the form of animated Saturday morning cartoons was very prevalent for my generation: Cardcaptor Sakura, Pokemon, Digimon, Yu-Gi-Oh!... Because of this, I am (and I feel many other in my generation) much more comfortable with Eastern comics and ideals than previous generations may be (things like honor, the nobility of the 'fight', the desire to master your profession).

Looking, then, at Osamu Tezuka's work as the genesis of manga was quite interesting for me. I caught a few cartoon episodes of Astro boy as a kid, but that was it. Seeing the ideas, morals, and storytelling that Tezuka displays through his comics was eye opening. They say he laid down the path for all to follow, and I can see evidence of that. The death of boy who is recreated as a robot by his father (Astro Boy) : Japan's obsession and advanced proficiency in robotics technology, and the popularity of Robot manga and anime. The tragedy of a boy loosing his entire family (Buddha): The now cliché tragic hero character in many shonen manga, and the hardened/stoic reservedness of character often displayed by characters concerning their past. The combination of horror, comedy and romance in a story (Black Jack): many modern mangas exploit violence or horror along with comedy almost passively, it seems.

I could be looking too deep, or it could be the truth. As it is, every new manga I read and every manga I reflect on seems to draw some sort of relationship back to Tezuka's work.

Daytripper - A day in a man's death

Each comic I read for this class seems so vastly different from the last. Each week we group comics together in attempt to find a pattern within genrés, but after sampling several foreign comics such as the Nikopol Trilogy (Enki Bilal), Persepolis (Marjane Satrapi), and Daytripper (Gabriel Bá / Fábio Moon), I'm fairly convinced that any comic, any story, depends on the individual that writes it.

I've made this point due to the uniqueness of storytelling I found in Daytripper. As the reader looks into the life Bras, we get to know him day by day, scene by scene if you will, each which ends tragically in Bras death. His death at the end of each chapter does not affect his life's story: that is to say, each chapter reveals more about his life's story, even though he should already be dead chronologically speaking. The story resets at the start of every chapter, as if he did not die.

What is the point of this odd repeated dying of the main character if it does not actually affect the story? I believe it accomplishes two things. The protagonist's life is not incredibly exciting; it's rather ordinary and relate-able, like reading a biography. His death brings a sudden and odd end to each  section, and the reader can't help but wonder, "How will he die next time?" and continues reading the comic. However, I believe Bá and Moon's main purpose in killing Bras at different stages in his life is to make us think. By having a story so easy to relate too, we can easily compare Bras trials, tribulations, and thoughts to times in our own lives. Having said that, what if we died at 32? 21? 28? Would I be content at that time in my life? Would I be in a bad place? Did I chase my dream--should I be brave and chase my dream before settling into a boring casual existence...?

Questions like these begin to circulate in the reader's head. I believe the point of Daytripper is to give the reader appreciation for every day they are alive, and to live doing things we love.

Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis and stereotypes

Stereotypes: To do or not to do

For the most part, the word 'stereotype' has picked up negative connotations in recent years. However, when we focus on characters in comics, games, or animations, the context shifts. That's because there are certain undeniable truths that accompany stereotypes: It allows the viewer to generate preconceived ideas about the appearance, personality, and cultural baggage for that character. It's like a nice little package that we are already familiar with. Because the viewer automatically has expectations about a stereotype, the artists or writer can use this mindset to their advantage. The artist may chose to uphold a stereotype, making her/him a predictable or easy character, or on the flip side, the artist may chose to break the stereotype completely after setting it up, knowing that the viewer will be surprised by the unexpected change.

Marjane Satrapi's autobiographical graphic novel, Persepolis, deals with the stereotypes put upon an Iranian woman (as well as a great deal of Iranian Politics-but we'll focus on the stereotyping). As I read on, I gained a great deal of both familiarity and respect for Satrapi. She gives us a clear view into her life specifically. She humanises the American sterotype of an 'Iranian' and brings to light a subject that is little known or discussed here in the USA. Every topic is approached as we grow up with this girl - A child robbed of her childhood thanks to war. A young woman forced to grow up too quickly. The loss of innocence and embarrassment about race. Finding strength in one's family and looking past what other impose on you. Looking beyond the laws and government and standing up for what's right (the list goes on). Satrapi's strong will keeps the reader burning with the feeling of justice for Iranian people as we personally see her grow and develop as a strong female character. Satrapi addresses stereotypes head on, and proves that they may not be true!

So, should stereotypes be used?After reading Persepolis, I must settle on "no". The one who is stereotyped never appreciates it and probably finds it insulting. I can't think of anyone who enjoys being stereotyped (I certainly can't stand it!). Unexpected characters that break the norm tend to be more popular and fresh anyway.

The amazing woman herself: Marjane Satrapi

MAUS

Through Vladek's Eyes

One can say that MAUS is a book about the Holocaust, yet, it is so much more than that. Like Art mentions himself within the first few chapter of the comic, a closer look into the life of a specific person humanizes the whole experience. Ironically, this very humanized story is portrayed with animals for people. This notion of the graphic novel has been widely discussed. I believe Art chose to do so for two reasons: 1) giving each 'race' an animal dumbs down the inferred relationships between these races to their most basic element [ex. Jews are mice, Germans are cats, cats hunt mice], and 2) by simplifying these characters so much and giving them mouse heads, we are able to relate to them better. This concept of cartoons being easier to empathize with compared to more realistic images is thoroughly discussed in chapter two of Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics. By using such simple lines, it is the reader's mind that fills in the rest. In this way, the reader feels more like they are the character rather than just watching the character. What better way to have someone truly understand the experience of the Holocaust than by having them become a part of it?

The story is broken up by the 'return to reality' with Art and Vladek. This was a good decision in terms of story telling. As the tale gets more and more heavy as truths about the Holocaust are revealed, the reader needs the break back into 'present time'. This also helps the reader remember that it's not just a comic about the holocaust they are reading, but the recounted tale of a man who actually lived through it. We are there with Vladek in those scenes, in the room, listening to his accented English as he pedals on his exercise bike.

This, too, humanizes the experience. I believe the reason MAUS is so acclaimed is that it gives the reader an approachable, personal experience of the Holocaust, not just a dry documentary about horrible events.

Underground Comics

Comics that push the envelope.

In a world where comic artists are free to draw what they want, how they want, and when they want, Underground Comics are born. They are an interesting species; an apple that fell far from the tree. Still a comic, yes. Still the familiar colorful cover, size, and general format. It is the content that sets these animals apart.

Because underground movements are outside of the commercial system, censorship and restrictions don't apply. There is no paperwork or bureaucracy to wade through. Because of this, Underground Comics are raw, personal, violent, sexual, political, anti-law, drug related, and sometimes autobiographical. They take on subjects and approaches never before seen in comics thanks to the liberty, blowing the top off storytelling in comics. They had a profound effect on the development of comics after them, paving possibilities no one considered in comics before.

Several examples are Mr.Natural, Dopin Dan, Tits and Clitz, and my favorite, Zap comics. Now, I can't say that I enjoyed what happened between the pages of Zap comics. The first one I cracked open was filled with dirty, gross looking characters, performing completely uncensored acts of violence. It was very graphic and brutal, hiding nothing. From there I was introduced to unusual sexual situations and highly anti-law tidbits from the artists. But through all this, I can appreciate what they've done. I can understand that this is a huge leap in a direction that frees comics from all content restrictions; that the ridiculous content liberates its readers and paves the path for anything and everything in the future of comics.

Craig Thompson's "Blankets"

From the get go, the reader is launched into a very personal view of the world by a specific boy named Craig. The story is obviously autobiographical--something somewhat new and different to the comic world. While I cannot relate to a sad and dark childhood like this author, I can recognize it and appreciate my own luck in the matter (I had an awesome childhood, happy family, great sister, nice places-- quite the opposite in many ways). But even for someone like me, there are elements of the story I might identify with. The scene in Sunday school, the good times during childhood spent being silly with my sibling, and certainly the joy of drawing, the sneaking around with your first love, the fear and ignorance about sex caused by a christian upbringing.

This realistic approach to comics proposes that comics can be more that simple entertainment. They can have ethical, literary, and nostalgic value. Blankets regards subject matter that is generally thought of as "too serious for comics", a notion Will Eisner often takes into account with his comics. This seriousness and required involvement of the reader begged for a new name, a new face. Thus, the term "Graphic Novel" was born. Quite appropriate-- a "novel' sounds much more grown up, and with the already-in-place connotations of the word "comic", "graphic novels" give artists a fresh start of sorts.

Content aside, the stylizing says a lot for the story. Authoritative figures are comparatively huge and 'scary'. The gestures of the figure along with the ink feel correct and fluid. The paneling and variety of angles and compositions in spot on and rewarding. An excellent work -- something I would recommend in an instant.

Overall, the book is a masterpiece. It's a sincere, personal, page-turning experience in which we re-live our own growing experiences.

Continued look at the "Comic Strip"

In a variety of works by different artists at the birth of the comic strip, there are similarities and differences to be compared in both styles and stories. The works I will be discussing today are Herriman's Krazy Kat, Watterson's Calvin and Hobbes, and Schulz's Peanuts.

All three share an obvious element--humor. This is the comic strip after all, known to many as the "funnies". The delivery is also similar, in ways. There is a simple story that often ends in in a punchline, or a humorous action at least.  However, difference occurs in the length of the strip itself to achieve this. Krazy Kat is a full page, averaging at around twenty panels. I've seen Calvin and Hobbes strips go anywhere around half page to a couple of panels. Lastly, Peanuts keeps fairly steady at four panels, delivering a quick, satisfying little story. I enjoyed each of these comics. They feel very different from each other but share a humorous and child-like innocence.

Concerning the evolution of the comic strip itself, we must look at their outside factors. Strips were published weekly in the newspaper, so the viewers would become familiar and emotionally attached to these characters and stories. Much like I look forward to my favorite TV show once a week, funnies fanatics of the 30's anticipated their comic strips, devouring one just to "switch channels" to another. In this way characters could become endearing, Peanuts being a prime example. Even today--long after the artist has passed-- the fan base of Peanuts is a strong enough force to continue publishing for. Right along with Pikachu and Spongebob floats Charlie Brown in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade after all. Proof that early comic strips gave birth to some of the most memorable and iconic characters of all time.

George Herriman's "Krazy Kat"

Impressions of this early comic strip.

There are several comics to observe when looking at the birth of the comic strip, I focused on Krazy Kat by George Herriman. Why? Because I have heard rumors of its controversy. From my history of illustration class, I remember being told that during the time of it's production, people either 'got it' or didn't; loved it, or hated it. It didn't make sense to some people, but had a reputation for appealing to higher-class readers. 

With this intriguing notion, I took it upon myself to read a number of Krazy Kat comics and make an assessment myself.

Surface observations: While not necessary, Herriman numbers the panels in the direction it's intended to be read. The artwork is very simple pen-work. There are a set of characters for the strip, though not all are used every time, and their personalities and relationships ride off of which animal they are. There is a strong southern/African American dialect written in to the character's dialogue. The stories of the strip all have a beginning, middle, and end, though there is an unusual feeling to them. Perhaps it is that (sometimes) there is not moral; and is always whimsical and playful. At times, I had to backtrack and look closely at the drawings to make sense of them--often I find difficulty in following the action because of confusing ink work.

Overall, I enjoy Krazy Kat comics. It think it's that whimsical and often cute quality of the stories. I'm also interested in the characters, particularly Krazy and Ignatz, whose relationship seems to ride on love/hate. I also find them strangely addicting -- I must read another!

Scott McCloud's "Understading Comics"

Simplicity at its finest

Chapter two, the vocabulary of comics, focuses on the use of the icon in comics and dissects how icons are registered and processed in our brains. Why is it that our brain can identify with a circle, two dots, and a line? Something so incredible simple is universally recognized. For a long while, I assumed this was so due to my exposure to such icons at a young age. Everyone in my generation watched simplified cartoons and knew about Walmart's smiley-face logo. But is it just because we grew up with these icons, or does it go deeper? It must--such cartoonery predates Walmart and Nickelodeon.

Scott McCloud addresses the matter from every angle. What happens in human's brains when they see it, Why we identify with it, how that identification of one's self can change as we similarly identify with others and objects, and why this simplification works so well with comics. The chapter was fascinating. His mention of how a realistic face, when viewed, is simply seen "as the face of another," the simplified cartoon can personally identify with the reader. An interesting phenomenon that comes naturally with the simplification of a face. The face can be stripped down to its bare essentials in a cartoon--The head shape with eyes and a mouth--and it is all we need.

A second interesting notion comes from the idea that we extend ourselves, that is, we extend our consciousness into objects around us. McCloud's example of us driving a car is a great example. "The vehicle becomes an extension of our body. it absorbs our sense of identity. We become the car." Everyone knows this, but to stop and think about it, to read it in a book, brings it to light. We identify with things quite easily. And our minds simplify these things quite easily. Ideas are cut down to the essentials, and a comic artist can use this to their full potential.

Shuan Tan's "The Arrival"

A Story Without Words

The use of pictures to tell a story is the oldest form of storytelling only second to oral tradition. For Shuan Tan's "The Arrival", the lack of words does not hinder the story. In fact, in enhances it. The Protagonist finds himself, through the majority of the story, in a foreign land where he cannot speak the native tongue. Just as foggy about his whereabouts as he is, the reader sympathizes with his struggle to communicate using only hand gestures and body language.

The way Tan keeps the story flowing through his choice of images is also noteworthy. The square format in which Tan often uses is reminiscent of storyboards, or a filmstrip (hmm, those two things can also meant to tell a wordless story!). The transitions can be thorough and slow, such as describing the monotonous work the protagonist goes through when he gets a job at the factory, in which each illustration is only slightly different from the last. Tan also likes to zoom out of a scene in order to make a transition, and the effect is grand. The reader feels like he/she is getting physically pulled back until they see the grand, fantastic city in which the protagonist is only a tiny part of.

While many short stories are quickly introduced and concluded through flashbacks of characters, the reader does not get lost. With the slight change in color, layout, and "texture" of the pages, the reader can easily follow these interesting interludes of these acquaintances of the protagonist. With something so complicated, Tan's clever transitions back out of these flashbacks are well executed and keep the story comprehensible.

The ending was unexpected. Judging solely on the style and grayscale aspect of the comic, one may assume that the ending will be one of a tragedy. I, for one, expected the man to come a cropper, or find his family had passed away in his absence. I was pleasantly surprised and relieved when the ending revealed itself to be upbeat and happy. I might even describe the ending as 'cute' due to it's cyclical nature. Quite a charming and fantastical piece of work.