A bit over four years ago, I wrote this review of How To Make Money Like A Porn Star, a book that I was not kind to. In fact, the sole exception to my fairly nasty screed was a brief portion in which I talked about Bernard Chang’s art, which I said reminded me of a more varied Phil Noto. I also said that I wanted to see him draw comics that weren’t so aggressively stupid. To be frank, Neil Strauss’s misogynistic, mean-spirited script deserved worse than I gave, and Chang’s work deserved more praise than I could muster.
Yesterday, I approached Chang’s table in Artist Alley at the New York Comic-Con and said that I liked what I’d seen from him lately. Chang told me that he wanted to kick my ass and that “if I were you, I’d leave right now.”
Despite the best efforts of those who went back for another day of crowd-dodging and slow, grinding terror, I opted to spend this Sunday in New York fairly quietly, spending time with some of my favorite human beings: Deb Aoki and the Horns: Paul and Darlene. Brunch at The Spotted Pig (note-perfect, across the board) and leisurely consumerism that grew to a fever pitch once Paul and Darlene went off to the convention and Deb and myself were left to our own devices with a fantastic chocolatier and Jack Spade store within easy walking distance. I’m pretty sure that my banker will give me a look with no small amount of askance once the charges roll in.
Yesterday was, despite the overbearing crush of humanity, a very nice time at the convention and afterwards. Pal Robin (who ably takes on the role of Filthy Assistant in a bit I’m swiping wholesale from Saint Ellis of Blighty and no I don’t care if he sends Suicide Girls to trim my bits,) and myself made our way onto the floor and got to spend a decent amount of time with a nice swath of friends, collaborators and creators whose work we enjoy. If I try to name them all, I’ll leave someone out and I’ll hear no end to it, but there were several Agreeable Comics types, a Korean rapper, more than a few writers, a teenager that should know better than to hang out with us, and Chris Sims involved in the shenanigans and I had an absolute blast.
The best part of these shows is spending time with people I genuinely like. Without a table or product to sell, there’s only so much for me to do. I attended the (very funny and smart) Comics Alliance panel because it really is the best comics site out there, but I can’t imagine sitting in a room full of people who think that Stephanie Brown is real and hearing them complain about how Grant Morrison changed Jason Todd’s hair color and not wanting to look into a way to make an aerosol version of Chinese Syphilis to unleash on the populace.
Another vodka tonic (Grey Goose because mother raised me right) and a cab ride to the train to Boston and then back to real world. I had a terrific time, New York City, and my only wish is that I could have spent additional time with more of you.
I’m not much of a t-shirt person anymore, and even if I were, I look about as good in red as I do any other color that works hard to maximize my alabaster complexion’s fishiness, but this design by Sean Mort is keen as all get out.
1.
No, there is no Rack today. It’s another week of Tuesday-Friday goodness and we’ve freed up fifteen to forty seconds of your day for better tasks. We’ll be back on schedule next week, I’d like to think. Historically, Mondays are our best days because most of the readers are looking for a way to escape the ennui of work as early as possible, and we value that relationship.
2.
On Sunday, I read the copy of Jason Shiga’s Bookhunter I’d picked up at MoCCA and Dirk Deppey and Pal Renee were correct in their assessments. It’s a deadly earnest (and thus hilarious) Michael Bay-meets-Serpico tale of stolen books, deadly enemies, and one library special agent who’s willing to go the distance, projected through a Megaman-style lens. Order it from Sparkplug; you won’t regret it.
3.
The Bug’s new album London Zoo has a preview mixed by Kode 9 that makes it sound like it may be my album of the year.
4.
Yes, I am at San Diego this year and will generally be around the BOOM! Studios booth. No, I will not be announcing anything. Yes, I will be at Thursday Night’s Drink-Up. No, I will not being giving Ian Brill much crap, because he’s a very nice young man.
Pondering the idea of a group of Marvel creators facing off, a gamer and comic fan has to wonder: How best to deal with them? How do you take down Ed Brubaker if you found yourself in a horrific online conflict? “Ed is really disorientated spatially,” says Fraction. “He has a degree of motion sensitivity. Before my time, he was driven to vomit by a particularly brutal game of Call of Duty 2. If you’re looking for an advantage on Ed, turn around a lot, make him constantly re-orientate to find you. That’s the way to do it.”
100 Bullets #92 At this point, I should be well and truly immune to Brian Azzarello’s dialogue-from-one-scene-paralleling-another trick, but this issue has him making a virtuoso performance of that very thing. At this point, I’m enjoying this more for the on-page techniques being employed than any of the story elements. It’s almost like pulling out a four-or-five minute section of a really good jazz improv and going “Yeah, that’s the stuff.” Doktor Sleepless #7 There’s a fairly clever riff on the film adaptation of V For Vendetta that serves as a metaphor for the series as a whole very nicely: yes, we’ve done this all before, but sometimes things are worth doing again, differently. The old ways don’t work like they should; the new ways may not work, but we’re trying. Sleepless may owe a lot to its predecessor Transmetropolitan, but it’s poking at different concerns that are more relevant to the moment. I don’t know if it’s just because I’m getting used to it or Ivan Rodriguez’s art is improving, but I’m starting to enjoy his slightly-stiff, documentarian way to laying out and telling Ellis’s script. Jack Staff #17 With The Butler, Paul Grist may have finally gotten his stab at the Eisner award for Most British Character Ever. I love how deceptively slight single issues of Jack Staff can be with; little perfectly-formed slices of pop entertainment that are at first glance a bit of candyfloss until you get a look at the larger picture being formed. Grist is creating a complete British comics universe from whole cloth and while he certainly owes a bit to Jack Kirby and Frank Hampson, there’s a lot to be said for the man’s ability to synthesize and recombine the past into something that’s very individual.
Local#12 Brian Wood and Ryan Kelly’s series about one woman’s self-discovery shouldn’t be the sort of comic I like. It’s frequently self-indulgent and a bit too self-aware for my tastes; very little is resolved within an individual installment; and, let’s face it, off-schedule comics piss me off an awful lot, particularly when it’s a limited series. That said, Wood and Kelly manage to zero in with the final issue, creating a thematic and narrative finale that hits every point it needs to while giving things just enough room to breathe. This is going to be a satisfying read when it’s all collected and another example in my ever-expanding “Let’s just get rid of the Graphic Novel section and shelve these books in the appropriate prose section” argument.
Madman Atomic Comics#9 Hey, kids! Beautiful visuals marred by sophomoric psychobabble! Check it out! (Do not check it out. This was my last issue for a reason.)
Young Liars #4 Where 100 Bullets takes the dark, studious approach to telling a crime story, Lapham’s story is so over the top, so cartoonish, that it’s occasionally hard to believe he’s getting by with it, especially at Vertigo, home of DMZ and Very Serious Sandman-Related Crossovers. Then one remembers that Army of Love is out there, doing to the war what this title does to Tarantino and his ilk, and it all makes a bit more sense. Lapham’s dense, funny scripting and ability to cram eight panels onto a page effortlessly makes this one of the more rewarding monthly reads out there and serves as an example of serial comics storytelling that rewards on both an individual and collective basis.
