Overdue Shameless Wife-Promotion

My wife Veronica has been the on-and-off-again comic artist for the university paper for the last couple of years--and I'm finally getting around to getting digital versions for the world to see! The first one is the very first comic she did for the paper:
This next one features her only two returning characters, the College Slackers:

"Scott Pilgrim" Urges Nerds to Get It Together!

Image by Aaron_M via Flickr

Scott Pilgrim is an awesome series, blah, blah, blah. Bryan Lee O'Malley is a great writer/artist, blah, blah, blah...

I know, I know, I keep going on about this series, but it's become my summer reading of choice for 2009 (not to say I don't love reading teaching books and texts about sociolinguistics!). And fair enough, what could I say that I haven't already written about the series. Well, hear me out, because it just so happens that O'Malley makes a great shift from awesome to...um...awesomer, in the fourth volume, Scott Pilgrim Gets it Together. Now, I know what you're thinking: "How could an already awesome comic about awesome video games, awesome manga, and awesome indie rock be an awesomer?" Well, O'Malley pulls it off.

For starters, what has been a story told, so far, over the course of a few days, the plot suddenly jumps ahead a couple of months and picks up after Scott and his would-be-girlfriend Ramona have spent a wonderful summer together. O'Malley does some amazing storytelling here, recapping their summer with the story of one particular day told in eight coloured pages--a welcomed first for the series. O'Malley perfectly captures the speed but splendour of summer--with a wicked Sonic the Hedgehog title screen reference--and then continues the story.

The story itself, continues Scott Pilgrim's coming of age tale, but unlike the previous three volumes, Scott actually grows as a character. That makes sense, but one could see where O'Malley may have been tempted to keep his main character a lovable man child forever (like so many webcomics with similar themes). For the first time in the series, Scott begins to feel the burden of *bum, bum, bumm!* adult responsibility--the lease on the studio apartment he shares with his gay roommate is up, his band begins trying to record an album, and Ramona begins to get all "where-is-this-going" about her relationship with Scott (right when each of them has yet another ex show up to tempt them). So Scott has one important choice to make: does he continue to act like a teenager forever, or does he finally grow up? Happily, he "gets it together" at the volume's climax, which is quite simply the most epic yet!

And this is the other area in which the story is awesomer (= new favorite word). There are more video game, manga, and rock references/relatable moments. It's crucial to understand this isn't simply a matter of quantity over quality. It's more that O'Malley seems to have become more comfortable/intuitive/aware of how to make use of these references; he seems more confident about how employs them, which shows that while Scott grows as a character, O'Malley grows as a writer. That's good to see.

All in all, this is easily the best entry in the series I've read so far (I'm holding off on Volume 5 with the final installment a good year away). I can't deny I'm excited about the movie. I'm interested to see what Edgar Wright's (of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz fame) take on the series is. And just as I've been thinking that with all of it's old school gaming references the series would make a good 16-bit video game, word comes that one is in development. Oh happy day!

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

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What's in the Little Blue Bag? Week of July 15, 2009

In my efforts to start reviewing semi-current comics on a regular basis, I thought it would be important to start actually reading the comics I buy when I buy them--a novel idea I know. In that vein, I've already read the comics I bought last week! This might not seem like a feat to those who read their new comics as soon as they get them home--if not sooner--but for a teacher who has papers to grade and is usually in the process of actively reading about four books for a mix of business and pleasure, this is pretty speedy for me. So here's what I've been reading in the past week.

Zorro #14 by Matt Wagner:

Regular readers of this feature will know I've been following this series avidly since it's inception. But I had expressed concerns that, after the opening arc, Wagner began flirting too closely with the line between homage and cliché that he had thus far successfully navigated. Well, I'm pleased to find that he's back on the "right" side of that line, telling an old story in a new way. In that previous review, I had complained that Zorro and his love interest were being led into a run-of-the-mill "hero rescues the damsel" scenario. Without giving anything away, that arc has reached a climax here with a great twist. However, what Wagner does with this could make or break a series on the rebound.

Wednesday Comics #1:

I know, I know, I'm a couple issues behind this series already, but really its success was always going to completely hang on the first installment. And so far, I've heard nothing but positive things about this one. That's why, I was a little disappointed to find that I wasn't that impressed with it. But before I'm stoned, let me explain. I love the idea of this series. And I love the presentation even more! Reading my favorite superheroes in a way that's so old school it predates my life? Kudos for doing something really different here, DC.

But that child-like giddiness sort of ended when I opened the issue and started reading the one page stories. And I use that term loosely. The writing here is really flimsy, even for one page stories. Almost all of them try desperately to introduce their characters, a conflict, and end with a cliffhanger, and it makes the stories feel cramped. It's like the writers here are trying to do in one page what they would usually do in a thirty page issue. There are exceptions, of course. "The Flash" along side "Iris West" attempts to tell two sides of the same story--impressive considering they use the combined space of only one comic. And the "Hawkman" comic (narrated by a flock of birds desperately trying to answer the hero's call to aid) is the only story here that functions entirely as a stand-alone story; it's my favorite.

And the art here--whether it's old school, cartoon-y, realistic, etc.--is almost all good. The bat-signal's reflection in Commissioner Gordon's eyes? Very haunting. The sketch-book composition of Princess Diana's dream? Appropriately innocent and, well, dream-like.

I suppose I can sum up my critique here by making an admittedly controversial point. The writers and artists at DC need to study up on web comics. These, by and large, amateurs have mastered (or are at least closer to mastering) the ability to tell a cohesive narrative in only a few panels at a time, let alone with a full page.

B.P.R.D.: 1947 #1 by Mike Mignola and Co.:

It's been almost two months since I've read anything by Mignola, and I'm reminded of one, very important thing about comics: Mike Mignola is awesome. I'm sorry, but I'm going to be a fanboy about this--no one tells a story, both in his text and with his visual execution, like Mike Mignola.

This latest arc in the B.P.R.D. series centers around young Hellboy's adoptive father investigating the supernatural deaths of Nazi war-criminals. His investigative team includes World War II veterans whose "special circumstances" have them assigned to the B.P.R.D. The story here is only beginning to unveil, but it draws you in regardless. Mignola effortlessly weaves together the inciting incident of the murdered Nazis, the agents' backstories, and the unraveling mystery that surrounds them. No, there's not a lot of action, but this story doesn't need it.

Sir Edward Grey, Witchfinder: In the Service of Angels #1 also by Mike Mignola:

I just said this in my above review of the latest B.P.R.D., but it bares repeating: Mike Mignola is awesome. And what we have here is an entirely new series in the Hellboy universe telling a story about the oft mentioned, occasionally seen, but never explored character of Edward Grey, an 1870's paranormal detective in Her Majesty's service. Yup, in the vain of Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, Sir H. Rider Haggard's King Solomon's Mines, and Mignola's own one-shot, The Ectoplasmic Man, it's a piece of Victorian Gothic!

The story here follows Sir Grey investigating the recent deaths of a team of British archeologists having discovered the ruins of a lost, and indeed non-human, civilization. All of the victims have been quickly and completely drained of all bodily fluids, one while Grey's back was turned by a mysteries, ape-like creature that appeared and tried to kill Grey and before he picked up a crude sword found amongst the ruins, causing the creature to flee. The only clues are a name and address scrawled on a scrap of paper delivered to Grey by a frightened young boy.

This stuff is classic, by Mignola, along with artists Ben Stenbeck and Dave Stewart, breathes new life into it.

The Unwritten #2 by Mike Carey and Peter Gross:

In my review of the first issue in this series, I didn't have the nicest things to say about these two guys. Their toting "the story behind all stories" left a bad taste in my mouth concerning what was, otherwise, a good story. But I've decided to go the modern literary analysis route, and decide that the authors' intent doesn't mean anything. It doesn't matter that they've included another pretentious blurb about "what they're trying to do" at the end of this issue. They've continued to write a good story, so let's look at that.

What follows here is the continued journey of Tom Taylor, a young man whose father wrote, but never finished, a beloved series of children's fantasy books about his son but in the vein of Harry Potter. Soon Taylor finds out that his past is far more mysterious than he can remember: some say his father wasn't really a father at all, but a writer who "bought" Tom from an immigrant family as publicity for his upcoming series; radical fans believe Tom is really the character from his father's stories, brought to life by the magic in them. Regardless, Tom ventures out to search for "the truth," but quickly learns that truth, like all things, can be created and changed by story.

Again, this is the running theme of the series, and it's a good one. The author's play with it not just in the line between fantasy (Tom's father's books) and reality, but also different realities (is the mother Tom remembers his real mother?) and the instant reality of the internet (if a million people write the same thing on-line, which can then be viewed by another million people, does that make it true?). It's a fun motif to play with, but a difficult one to manage. I hate to say it, but I almost expect this series to end with some kind of gimmick that breaks the fourth wall of the medium and tries to attach the comic to the reader's reality. Still, done well, this could end up being one of the best written comics in recent memory.

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

What's in the Little Blue Bag?--Found a New Comic Book Store! Edition

A couple weeks back I was in Albuquerque taking a CPR class so I could lifeguard this summer. And as I was looking for the Red Cross branch, I happened to spy a wall with a huge mural of superheroes! After the class, I headed back, parked, and walked into one of the coolest comic book stores I've ever seen: Astro-Zombies. The place isn't very big, but they use the space well. I was a little disappointed with their selection of current comics, but their graphic novel, back-issue, and toy collection is huge! I'm not big on the toys, but even I had stood in awe at the mint condition, original Ninja Turtle toys! They had a couple of things I'd been looking for, and I'm always one to support comic shops, so I bought a couple of things that I finally got around to reading.

Scott Pilgrim & The Infinite Sadness by Bryan Lee O'Malley:
In my review of the second book in the Scott Pilgrim series I wrote that the book suffered from what most second works in planned but uncertain series suffer: introducing characters and slowing the story to establish a more complex plot. But I had hoped that by the third work, O'Malley would have gotten his wind back and continued writing his nerd epic. It's good to be right.

I can't say enough good things about O'Malley--and I'm not alone. Aside from his story (about wannabe player Scott trying to leave behind the baggage of his multiple ex-girlfriends while pursuing his new love by defeating her seven evil ex-boyfriends), the manga style--which I've never quite managed to get used to--works great here. But it's the nerd-culture influences that really give this work it's charm (I'm not a big fan of the main character, actually). Imagine combining the greatest old school video games (Street Fighter, Final Fantasy, Super Mario Bros. series, etc.), the funniest action manga series (Dragon Ball, Sailor Moon, etc.), and indie rock and roll (I don't know any "known" indie rock bands to use as examples here), and you have the most base understanding of the elements at work here. It's great, humorous, action comics at it's best.

The Wonderful Wizard of Oz # 6-7 by Eric Shanower and Skottie Young:
Our intrepid witch slayers return to the Emerald City to collect their rewards (a brain, a heart, courage, and plane tickets back to Kansas) from the Wizard, only to find he won't see them. They demand an audience, threatening to unleash the winged monkeys Dorothy now controls. He begrudgingly allows them entrance, hidden from view. Angered by the Wizard's seeming attempts at rescinding on their deal, the Lion unleashes a ferocious roar that shakes the very walls, destroying the Wizard's throne, and revealing his hiding space. But what they find behind it is still more shocking...The X-Men!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you're confused, imagine how I felt reading the issue--to have the story suddenly interrupted by an X-Men advertisement. And I was reminded how much I hate ads in the middle of comic books; DC and Marvel are the worst. Okay, so maybe during my review of Shanower and Young's work is not the best time to bring this up...On second thought, this is the perfect time to bring this up, as I truly believe it subtracts from the work. The Wizard of Oz has eleven pages of ads in its thirty-four pages of story and costs around $4. Meanwhile, take an indie comic, like Dark Horse Comics' Sir Edward Grey: Witchfinder, which has four pages of ads in its thirty page story but only costs $3. And at least Dark Horse put their ads at the end of the comic. So I'm paying a $1 more for a shorter story? And at least the typical Dark Horse I read (B.P.R.D., Hellboy, The Umbrella Academy) has well-written stories. I'm sorry to say, this isn't necessarily the case with Marvel's adaptation of L. Frank Baum's children's novel.

I've continually complained about the pacing of this series, and I'm afraid that flaw becomes even more apparent in this couple of issues. There's a couple of instances of "story within a story" here. Both are short tales to develop some of the important characters of the story (the flying monkeys and the Wizard). Both stories are not only short but don't really include a lot of details or develop more than one or two characters; they can't otherwise they'd overpower the main plot. That's fine. What's not fine is that the pacing of these shorter stories is the same as that of the main one--no details, no development, and the promise of another arc in the series...At least the art is good.

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

"The Five Clocks"--My First Dive into Linguitics

In my new position as Assistant Coordinator of Freshman Year Programs, one of my chief responsibilities is the curriculum design of College Discourse. This course, the sections of which will be coupled with remedial English courses, is designed to help prepare incoming freshman for the types of communication undergraduates need in college. As such, the Coordinator of FYP, and my boss, turned to her field of linguistics for inspiration and tossed Martin Joos' The Five Clocks: A Linguistic Excursion into the Five Styles of English Usage at me during our first meeting.

"This is the kind of stuff they need to learn," she enthused.

"I'll give it a look, I answered thumbing through the 100 or so pages confidently (it's a booklet really). That was a month ago.

It's not that it's a hard read. It's just that it's a linguist's book And linguists are generally, by their own admission, a bit off. To begin with, linguistics is practically a fringe branch of psychology. And most of it is over my head. So a book trying to explain the five registers of spoken English through fictional conversations the author is having with Mrs. Fidditch (who is meant to represent "proper" grammar) is a little tough to digest.

So of course my boss, a jokester to the end (intentionally or otherwise), gave handouts explaining these five registers (in about five pages, no less!) to me and the graduate students commissioned to help us about two weeks into my struggle to make sense of this book. Not one to be defeated, however, I finished the book, and armed with that nifty handout, actually enjoyed it.

The basic idea is that English is kind of like five clocks all close to the same time but still off a few minutes from each other: there's the frozen, formal, consultative, casual, and intimate. Joos argues that these are the five registers of English, and we shouldn't be expected to all synchronize to one of them all of the time (which is basically the classic teaching of proper grammar). Proper/Formal English has it's place, to be sure, but so do the other four registers. How awkward would it be speaking to a loved one formally?

"I wish you a good morning, Mother. I find your attire most agreeable today." That's not how English (or indeed any language) works, so we shouldn't try to force it on our students.

Ideally, by teaching our students this, we won't have students too shy to participate in class discussions just because they can't fully articulate their ideas. Hopefully, it'll also helps us teach them that e-mailing their professors isn't the same as texting their friends. Of course, we'll teach it much simpler than this book does.

That's where the biggest problem of comprehension comes in here. Joos write as if he's having a conversation, first with the reader (with occasional interjections by a stuffy Mrs. Fidditch appalled at the ideas that "improper" English usage is "okay") but then with Mrs. Fidditch directly. This later part comes in the second half of the book and is formatted as letters between the two. As one reads, Mrs. Fidditch is gradually won over, and this is demonstrated as her letters gradually pass through each of the five registers. It's actually a pretty brilliant way to make one's point, but as the letters generally range over a two or three topics, it gets kind of confusing. Similarly, as Mrs. Fidditch "mellows out," she writes increasingly like Joos, making it difficult to keep straight who's saying what when. I'm not sure whether or not this is intentional, but regardless, it's confusing.

All in all, this is an interesting book that, I believe, is no longer in print (though, of course, you can find tons of used copies online). And I'm actually glad I took the time to wade through it--even if I had to read a few parts two or three times before feeling like I at least partially understood it. Most importantly, however, it helped me understand exactly what my boss wants us to teach the students of our College Discourse classes. And that's a big help.

Questions? Quibbles? Controversies?

What's in the Little Blue Bag?--Wading Through the Back-Log

I started this feature way back when I would regularly visit my local comic book store (about an hour away), voraciously devour the $30 or so worth of comics I purchased in between lesson plans and freak moments of spare time that I didn't have my DS handy. See, my comic book store puts whatever I purchase in these awesome, blue plastic bags. And since I was usually too busy to sit down and read my bi-monthly collection in one sit, I'd carry that little bag in my pack, pull it out at the coffee shop or in my office when I had nothing to do, and read an issue--usually prompting the question that titles this feature. But with the arrival of summer and loads more free time, I actually have time to read "real" books (some, of course, of the comic variety). The result being a bag of comics I sort of forgot about and finally got around to reading this week. I've got another one lying around somewhere too...

Grimm Fairy Tales: Beyond Wonderland #1-2:
These books were actually my wife's picks after reading Issue #0 on Free Comic Book Day. When I found this blue bag again, her comics were still in there. I'm almost ashamed to say that I had to peek inside when I glanced at the covers. But what I found inside was the not the hyper-sexual version of the story I expected. Instead, I got a dark re-imagining of Lewis Carrol's tale. That's not to say that what's inside isn't sexual (there's a gratuitous shower scene thrown in for...actually, I don't why it's there) or that Carrol's story wasn't already really creepy (I saw the Disney version as a kid, and it creeped me right the hell out). But this is definitely a different take altogether. The back story goes, Cassie (our heroine) is being stalked by the Mad Hatter, who is also her brother. When Wonderland needed a new Alice (Cassie's grandmother was supposed to have been the original), they went after Cassie but she tricked her clearly insane brother into going in her stead. Not one to take that with his tea and toast, he's returned to the "real" world to either lure or drag Cassie into Wonderland. What follows is an incredibly good horror comic--complete with monster-like incarnations of all your favorite characters eating those closest to Cassie. Seriously, I "jumped" and cringed (about as much as you can when reading) at a couple of the really scary parts...but maybe that's just because these characters always scared me to begin with...

Batman and Robin #1:
I have to get something off my chest. I don't like Grant Morrison's work. I'm sorry, but his writing just doesn't "do it" for me, and I've never seen what the fuss was about. I read three issues of All-Star Superman before I gave up on it as stupid (granted, a friend of mine who loves the guy's work said I didn't even get to the good parts yet, but three issues is already a long time to go without pulling me in). I didn't even bother with any of the Batman R.I.P. series because, seriously, "killing" a superhero is, also, I'm sorry to say, stupid (it's almost always a stunt to increase sales). But I picked up this issue because I expected critics would hail it as an important work in the Batman canon, and I wanted to have a fair say. And? Meh...I've actually come around to Frank Quitely's style (which was another thing I felt didn't work in All-Star Superman). But the writing? The exclusion of an "adult" Batman (the mantle having been taken up by the original Robin) and a new Robin whose dad was Batman has pretty much made this a contest over who has more teen angst. "I wish I'd been a better Robin..." versus "Why don't I get to be Batman?!" If I want teen angst I'll reread Harry Potter--seriously, nobody whines better than that kid...'cept maybe Luke Skywalker...

The Unwritten #1:
This was my risk-pick (I always try to pick up at least one comic I know nothing about, as long as it looks interesting). And this one's pretty good. It tells the story of a man whose dad wrote a Harry Potter-esque series of books, in which his son is the main character. Riding on the coat tales of his now-missing father's success, accusations arise that this man is not the beloved author's son, but a proxy illegally adopted by the father. But radical fans interpret the last book in the incomplete series to mean that the main character of the books wasn't just based on the author's son, but that he is the character from those books. Confusing, but like I said, pretty good--especially if you were that kid who always wanted to believe that his favorite stories were real.

But then I got the end, where the authors included a little "editorial" about the series. Let this be a lesson to Vertigo and all other comic publishers--one issue into your series is way too early to be promising "the story behind all stories." In fact, it's way too early to be promising anything other than another issue to complete the story. Then we can talk about the ramifications of the work, and maybe we'll take into consideration the authors' intentions--though current academic critique of literature tells us authorial intent doesn't matter. We can interpret the work however we want. And this is a case where revelation of that intent actually hurts the work. There's a running theme in the issue that everything is created and destroyed by story--places are made important by story, deeds are thought great through story, and stories (real or not) can destroy people. And all new stories are just retellings of old stories. That's fine; I used the same basic theories in my Master's Thesis (Goku is just Superman who's just Jesus, etc.). What's bothersome is that the authors explain this as if it's their idea, ignoring that Bruno Bettelheim, Carl Jung, and Joseph Campbell all had the same idea years ago. For me, it badly colours their work (claiming to tell the story that created Bettelheim's formula for fairy tales, Jung's archetypes, and Campbell's hero cycle), especially since the plot here is so far almost identical to that of the 2005 film Neverwas starring Sir Ian McKellen.

"My Freshman Year"

My boss is the new Coordinator of Freshman Year Programs at our university, and she ordered a copy of Rebekah Nathan's My Freshman Year: What a Professor Learning by Becoming a Student for everyone even remotely involved in the program (faculty, advisers, etc.). It's the account of an anthropology professor who spent her sabbatical pretending to be an incoming freshman (participating in orientation, taking classes, and living in the dorm) to better understand college student culture. It's an interesting endeavor and yielded some interesting results.

However, as the book was only just published in 2005, readers who were undergraduates around that time will likely read about Nathan's "revelations" and think, "Well, duh!" Example--her shock that "good students" who ask relevant questions about the material or homework "are not cool" in the eyes of her peers. Of course! No one likes the kid who reminds the professor they had homework due! The differences between student life "now" and when she was in college are generational, which she does actually address--a wider range of kids these days go to college for a wide range of reasons versus those who studied in the '70s.

That's not to say that if you were school at the time Nathan "re-attended" you'll get nothing out of the book. For example, I learned that I was obviously a bigger "goodie-two-shoes" than I ever realized. According to all the statistics, surveys, and interviews she found or conducted, I'm the only person in America who never cheated in college!

But it's one thing that Nathan brings up time and again. All teachers, regardless of age, need to realize that students come to college for different reasons with different expectations. Getting over that should definitely ease some frustration over students who just don't seem to care. And I think the prof who can understand that is halfway to figuring out how to make those students care. It could be as simple as learning not to lecture all the time to as complex as restructuring the way you run class to maximize attendance. Students change. Shouldn't profs?