Ryan
Neil Gaiman's Sandman series is held up by a lot of people to be the greatest example of comics as literature ever written. I don't know if that's quite accurate, but it does show a lot of what comics are capable of as literature.
That being said, this book specifically is Gaiman revisiting his Endless series 10 years after it finished, providing defining moments in their own personal history, and many of which provide glimpses of who the Endless are and why they occupy the roles that they do. As such, Delirium's story is kind of confusing, Despair's is difficult to read through in one setting because it's just that sad, and so on. Gaiman's poetic prose really makes the art come to life.
Speaking of the art, there's some amazing work going on here. Manara, Quitely, Sienkowitz, McKean - a veritable treasure trove of art, each one selected for the story that would work best for them. Beautiful, rich - I could go on with many other, more superlative adjectives, but the point is clear.
The best thing about this was that it was short; aside from that, it seemed to be more a collection of manga stereotypes (both in terms of characters and scenes) rather than an actual plot.
Meh. In the right hands, the concept (angels direct a group of WWII soldiers to fight off a fallen angel who, with the help of some Nephilim, wants to steal the sword of heaven) could have been amazing. As it was, it was okay enough to read to pass the time, but I'm really glad I got it out of the library rather than buying it myself.
One thing that really bothered me: what group of soldiers would voluntarily name themselves “The Light Brigade”? I can't see that happening.
Continuing the story of the Trojan War. This volume continues to look at the build-up to the war itself; there are some initial skirmishes and conflicts, and we see how close the war comes to not happening, as the fragile alliance between the different groups of Acheans tries to keep itself together.
What's really interesting here is how Showalter depicts the Greek belief in fate. We're dealing with kings and legendary heroes here - the types of people that you would assume would be strong, commanding people - and they're unable to move, or to come to a consensus, without a sign from the fates that their course of action is right, and without confirmation that the gods will be on their side. Often people writing historical stories write them as a reflection of their own society, but Showalter doesn't do that - he's telling the story from a very classical Greek sensibility, which helps to show how well-thought out and researched this story is.
My reading through Alan Moore's oeuvre comes, ironically enough, with one of his earliest North American works, and one of the ones he's best known for. I'm actually surprised that it took me this long to get to reading it, due to how influential it is compared to a lot of his other work - it's been argued that without Swamp Thing, Vertigo Comics would never have coalesced, which I think would have had a huge impact on how comics are formatted and marketed today (especially regarding the now-routine collection of comics into trade collections) as well as the types of stories being told. Reading this volume it's easy to spot how some of my favourite Vertigo series were influenced by it, like Jamie Delano's Animal Man run (which, criminally, remains uncollected) and Gaiman's Sandman (I had no idea that making Cain and Abel part of The Dreaming predated Gaiman).
One of the things that I've always liked about Moore's work is that it's very personal, and you can often see him using the story he's telling as a vehicle of self-discovery, like he's trying to figure out his attitude towards something by telling a fantasy story with it. I got that feeling with this book – Swamp Thing is a vessel for him to study the mind-body relationship, and what part of a person is truly ‘them'. Because of the nature of this as a series, rather than a single GN, he's not quite finished figuring that out, but it's already being taken in some interesting directions.
In terms of story, we get something that was unique at the time but now seems like standard Vertigo, if such a thing exists; Swamp Thing journeys to Hell to rescue the soul of the woman he loves, after her demented uncle condemned her there, meeting the likes of Etrigan, the Phantom Stranger, and Deadman along the way. After his eventual rescue of her, they explore what exactly their relationship can be, given that he's not technically human but a sentient plant. This exploration includes a fascinating scene involving hallucinogenic yams, and from there we lead into the next GN in the series.
One of the pleasant surprises here is that, given how much Moore is (rightfully) associated with long-form comics, the story I enjoyed most was the standalone “Pog”, which is a blend of Swamp Thing, Walt Kelly, and A Clockwork Orange. It's a 22-page short story, told between two rather heady storylines, that is bizarre, simple, and moving in a beautiful way that serves to sharpen the emotional impact of the stories that surround it.
So a tzaddik, a rabbi, and a vampire walk into a bank ...
A collection of four stories, one featuring each of those characters at a turning point in their lives and a heist story that ties it all together. Each of those stories features concepts that could fall into the ridiculous - for example, a drug-addled immortal warring with an angel, a blood bank that keeps holy water in its sprinkler system as an anti-theft system, and lychanthropic nazis seeking Vlad Dracul to recruit him to their cause.
Tidhar's writing style is like a good whiskey - dark, and with a hard edge to it, but in a way that manages to be self-effacing at the same time. He's good, and he knows that he's good enough that he doesn't need to try to impress you.
On a technical level, Uganda is the most interesting story in the collection - in in Tidhar manages to tell an epistolary story that intertwines an interview transcript and three different yet fully-realized journals of different characters. It would be difficult enough to keep those stories straight and well-developed in a novel, but to do it in the limited space of a short story was very impressive.
I'm always sort of drawn to Boba Fett stories, because I've never quite understood why Star Wars nerds find the character so appealing. I'm not sure that giving him daddy issues and a smartassed brother/nephew* really makes the character any more interesting, but I guess fans of the character might enjoy this. For me, though, the beautifully-painted artwork was the only saving grace.
*family relationships become complex once clones get involved.
This was an incredibly mixed bag, which is probably not helped by the inconsistency in the creative teams throughout the book. There's an interesting core idea here of an alien warrior sent to be an infiltrator and sabateur, who ends up wanting to be a superhero - but it's so trapped in Silver Age tropes about what a superhero book ought to be that it never realizes its potential.
By way of analogy: Lee and Kirby's collaboration in 60s Marvel was the British invasion, and their work on FF was The Beatles, then this period was the White Album. There's a 10-issue run in here that introduces the Inhumans, the Silver Surfer, Galactus, and the Black Panther. Any one of those would have been enough to make this a classic, and it's baffling they were able to create all of them within a single year.
Company tells the story of a man named Jones that starts working for a company named Zephyr that provides training services. He's not there long, however, before he discovers that there's more to Zephyr than meets the eye ...
I thought this was a fantastic book. On one hand, it had the same type of “offices are crazy” comedy that you'd find in Office Space, or an episode of The Office, but at the same time with a more bitter, angry edge to it. Barry's main objective with the novel seems to be a reminder that capitalism can't exist without an underclass - one character muses that there would be no point in being rich if there wasn't an underclass to lord it over.
I'm not usually a fan of pre-modern DC, but this was charmingly endearing. Space police who become superheroes as a cover story, and who randomly can talk to birds? It probably shouldn't work but it absolutely does.
Also, I like the fact that Hawkwoman is presented as being an equal partner to Hawkman. It's not something you usually saw in this area.
As we head into the second half of the Edge of Victory mini-series, the story starts t o focus a lot more on Anakin Solo. Unfortuately, Anakin is possibly my least-favourite character in the entire series, so I figured that this would make this book a real slog through. Keyes does a really good job of developing Anakin's character, though: by the end of the book, I found him somewhat likable, and appreciated that he now has a bit of a character that's unique and separate from his siblings.
The Hopeless Savages series takes an interesting twist in the third and final (?) volume, which finds Twitch and Arsenal taking their respective boyfriends (who happen to be brothers) with them to Hong Kong so that Arsenal can take part in a martial arts tournament. Once there, however, they get involved in a plot straight out of a Jackie Chan movie, with items being surreptitiously placed in people's belongings for safekeeping, leading to action-packed chase scenes and fights between members of MI6, gangsters, and Our Heroes. [return]While not as character-based as the last installment, this one still gets top marks from me. The characters are all still written as well-rounded, 3-dimensional, non-stereotypical individuals. The art was really good, as well - Christine Norrie does a great job of drawing characters that are obviously related to each other, while at the same time retaining individual characteristics.
So, after several books of them being scattered, we once again see all of the primary cast of the NJO get brought back together. This allows for some good character moments, and also allows the action to stay somewhat more focused around the events at hand.
And “action” is definitely the word to keep at hand with this book. It's fast-paced, with a lot more focus on the ship battles and space warfare than a lot of the other books in this series, which is fine for now, but could easily get boring if they steer the series in general in that direction.
The general theme of the book here was kind of Neitzschean, especially his warning of “he who hunts monsters must ensure that, in the process, he does not become a monster.” The core of the former Rebel Alliance decides to take the battle to the Yuzhaan Vong in this volume, employing a variety of tactics that can only be described as Imperial and Dark Side in their nature. It's all done for the greater good, naturally, but we can definitely see the path to the Sith being paved with those good intentions.
If you're a fan of the series, this volume is a must-read, but if you haven't read any of the other Walking Dead books, I wouldn't recommend it, as a lot of the emotional punch of the events would be lost.
The last volume of WD ended with the main characters establishing themselves within a prison, which you would assume is the safest possible place to be when the undead have taken over. The problem with ‘safety', however, is that it's not good for conflict, and therefore for drama. This results in Glen, Rick, and Michonne leaving the prison to attempt to rescue the crew of a downed helicopter. In doing so, though, they encounter a sadistic town and their lives become endangered.
I was very torn on this book - on one hand, I'm always a fan of writers who work on ongoing series, and are willing to put their characters through hell, and make permanent changes to them, and we see a lot of that here, between Rick's loss of body parts and Michonne's extremely brutal, horrific rape. It's definitely clear that these characters will be affected by the evil done to them in this volume for a long time. It's also an exploration of a common theme in horror fiction - that, as bad as the monsters might be, it is humanity that is the real monster - but given how close we have grown to the characters, it is one that's extra effective.
On the other hand, however, there were some things that I definitely didn't like about this book. The character of the Governor, I thought, became kind of over-the-top in his evil - he seems to be someone without any sense of morality or goodness in him. While I don't have anything against psychopathic villians in general, it seems odd that he would become a leader of the community that he has, and that they would all go along with the brutality that he encourages. I also didn't like the cliffhanger nature of the ending, but I suppose that can't be helped.
One of the things I find extremely interesting about this series in general (and this volume of it in specific) is that, while the characters repeatedly state that they're in a new world, which requires them to take on a new morality and new social outlook, they repeatedly cling to their old lives - whether it's Lori's repudiation of polyamory, or Rick's insistence on playing the ‘hero' role. I'm not sure if Kirkman's trying to create a parallel between the humans and zombies by doing so, or if he's trying to create a larger commentary on the inertia of human nature and morality, but it's interesting to see how it will develop further in future volumes.
I bought this from a table at an Ill Scarlett show benefiting World Vision. Overall, it was a very interesting look at the history of punk, as well as its place both in the larger culture, as well as in history. While there are some parts of what O'Hara discusses that I disagree with (anarchism, for example), it's an undoubtedly important part of punk history and culture.
I'm usually quite fond of books like this one - ones that take an element of pop culture and put an intellectual spin on them. Usually, part of why I like these sorts of books is that they present intellectual stuff in a relaxed, easily-approachable way. Neptune Noir, unfortunately, doesn't do that.
Instead, it has a collection of articles analyzing elements of the show itself, but for the most part bereft of any larger context. While they do offer some insight into the show, and make you rethink a few things, it doesn't attempt to accomplish anything larger than that, which I think is a bit of a missed opportunity.
Like most anthologies, this one is a bit of a mixed bag. Some of the stories were really good, some were not so good, one was called “night of the tar baby”, and I couldn't even bring myself to read it. A surprisingly high number of the stories seemed to have some connection to food and eating. I suppose that connection makes sense: after all, good horror is about striking at our most primitive sense of reality, right? So many recent stories have already centred around sex, so I suppose that it's only natural that the other basic instinct gets looked at as well.
Usually I'm not a big fan of “for Dummies” books. I find them too simplistic, and a little condescending in a backhanded manner. This one was good, though. Full of photos and diagrams to show me (at least partially) what I've been doing wrong out on the court. Haven't had too much of a chance to get out and play any tennis since reading it, but did a few solo practice sessions and found I had improved by leaps and bounds since reading this.
The latest installment of The Series Of Unfortunate Events picks up right where the last one left off - with Sunny Beaudelaire in the villianous clutches of Count Olaf and Esme Squalour, and Sunny's siblings, Violet and Klaus, about to be dropped off a cliff. [return][return]In this volume, new characters are met up with, much more is learned about the mysterious VFD, and we get to see the characters of the Beaudelaires explored some more. Oddly enough, I used to enjoy this series because of how repetitive and formulaic it was - and yet, with the last few volumes, it's perfectly eschewed the conventions it set up in the first six parts, and I'm still enjoying it greatly.
I went with an audiobook for this one. It may have been abridged - there was a storyline involving the Solo children, but that was about it. If it wasn't abridged, that's a bold storytelling choice - leaving out the old, recognizable characters in favour of the ‘next generation' of Jedi. Basically, the Solos and a bunch of other young Jedi go on a raid to attack the Yuhzong Vong on their own turf. Everything seems to go farly well, until they are attacked by dark Jedi and Anakin dies! Right after he became a (somewhat) interesting character, as well. Anakin's death, ironically, becomes thematically similar to Chewbacca's earlier in teh series - it's a reminder to the readers that no characters are ‘safe', and that death can strike at any time. That's a very necessary atmosphere to have in war novels, I think, and it's something that the NJO novels have been kind of lacking up to this point. I must say, though, that I'm not really looking forward to the next few novels being nothing more than another Han pity party (even though I know that might seem somewhat callous to say)
This was an amazingly fun, and bizarre, book, collecting the two years' worth of Godzilla comics that Marvel published in the 1970s. The series starts with Godzilla arriving in Alaska and tearing his usual swath of destruction down the Pacific coast before being halted by SHIELD (the Strategic Hazard Intervention and Enforcement Law Division) and a pre-teen boy piloting a giant robot. After that it seems like they weren't too sure of what to do with the character, but the series contiued for another fourteen issues, and featured Godzilla battling everything from superheroes to cattle rustlers, as well as changing in size and travelling through time. I think it reached its zenith (although some may regard it as a nadir) in one scene where a four-foot tall, trenchcoat-clad Godzilla fights off muggers on the mean streets of New York.
Another amazing thing about this book is something I've seen in other Marvel books of the same era, which is a blending of different levels of fiction. As a result, when Godzilla strikes, people say they know it's Godzilla because they've seen Godzilla movies (which are not mentioned as documentaries). Similarly, when The Thing (a rival of the Hulk) shows up, he mentions watching the Hulk TV show. So we have fictional characters talking about the real presentations of other fictional characters, who are to them real. It's a neat trick: I'll have to make sure to to steal it sometime :o)
Fairly basic, bare-boned piece of work. For someone who wrote a book on swearing, the author seemed rather hesitant to actually use the words under discussion.
I absolutely love the idea of Green Lantern - a super-powerful corps of police officers who patrol the universe to keep it safe from harm. Part of what makes it so interesting as a result, for me, is that there is no one Green Lantern, but rather thousands, each with their own individual personality and abilities. It's a very rich storytelling milieu.
What makes reading Green Lantern difficult for me, though, is that one Green Lantern, Hal Jordan, seems to loom large in the minds of most readers. It's kind of understandable, as he was the “classic”, Silver Age version of the character, but as someone who started reading Green Lantern comics during the tenure of a different lantern (Kyle Raynor), I've never really been able to understand the appeal of Jordan as a character. So, as a result, I decided to pick up this collection of his first adventures in order to see what some of the fuss was about.
I still don't see it. The stories haven't aged well (a lot more poorly than Marvel's output of the same era), Jordan isn't that great of a character, and he doesn't really do much within this volume to justify his position as “the greatest of the Green Lanterns”.
This was a fascinating volume of Maxx's story to read, because, well, everything seems to get summed up nicely. Normally, this would be what you'd expect, only this is the third volume in a five-volume series, and it's a series that has used mystery and misdirection as one of the primary modes of storytelling throughout the series. While doing this, it's also managed to keep its trademark mix of Carl June, Camille Paglia, Calvin & Hobbes, and the Incredible Hulk just right. It'll be interesting to see what happens next in the series.
On top of that, this volume showcases some of the best art I've ever seen from Sam Keith. He's got one of those art styles that people tend to either love or hate, but here it blends absolutely perfectly with the story that's being told, and adds to it immeasurably. If you're a fan of his, definitely check this out if you haven't already.