Here’s some comics I’ve read over the past week.
Marc Torices isn’t a name that I’m familiar with…
… but immediately upon opening this I’m like WHOA.
It’s done in all these different art styles, and he references basically everybody that work in “literary” comics and has a strong style, so you get pastiches of Chris Ware, Olivier Schrauwen and too many to list.
But… reading this is exasperating. I usually don’t moan about plots, but lemme recap a bit: It’s about a really stupid guy, and he has a friend that gets kidnapped. Through being both a pitiful wimp and amazingly dim, he scotches the investigation into her disappearance, so you’re reading this going “gngngngngng!” in frustration.
I originally assumed that this was from an American creator (it being on Drawn & Quarterly and all), but as I was getting more and more fed up with the book, I put it down and googled it, and it turns out to be a translated work, originally published in Spain. And when I learned that, pieces fell into place — it has a particularly Spanish sensibility (think Joan Cornellà, for instance).
Not that that makes it more readable — despite all the amazing artwork, it’s an extremely straightforward narrative, and the narrative sucks.
I guess this was originally published in the early 2000s?
It has all the annoying things you expect in a Grant Morrison comic.
But it’s also kinda sorta sticks the ending? It’s super duper referential, and if you have no relationship with these characters before, it’ll be gobbledegook.
Jae Lee’s artwork is something.
Yes, I read six issues of Spirou magazine! I was behind and had to catch up.
Two of these are special issues…
… which means that almost all the strips are made with the special issue in mind. I wonder what the kids who are reading this think about it all? I mean, Agent 212 is apparently 50 years old, but does a nine year old care? It’s a character totally unfamiliar to me, so I didn’t much, but it’s still fun with a special issue.
The best issue of the batch is the été special: It’s twice the normal size, and it’s all about the Fabrice Festival: Les Fabrice (who are the “editors” of Spirou) have decided to put on a festival, so we get all the strips going to the festival. It works extremely well — it’s very funny.
I’m wondering what happens to strips like this afterwards, though? I mean, it wouldn’t make sense to include a two-pager like the above in a collection, would it? I guess I realise know why French children collect magazines like Spirou into hardback collections — I see them in used book stores in France.
And I’ve learned this issue essential words like “fesse”.
The best bit in the issue are the Fabrice pages — I laughed out loud repeatedly.
But there’s good stuff in all the issues. Nice artwork above.
Les cavaliers de l’apocadispe continues to be the funniest thing, like when they discover that the nefarious headmaster is planning to swap out their delicious school lunches with more healthy stuff made from fibres d’asperge, extraits naturels de chou, épinards, huile de navet, vitamines et protéines d’algue. THE HORROR
Well, this artwork doesn’t do much for me, and I’m not at all sure why. I mean, I love lots of artwork that is adjacent to this, but this just doesn’t do the trick.
You know, these days it feels like the default for comics that look like this is autobiography or biography? But it’s set in 1929, so autobiography is out, and it’s about a nine year old girl who is sent to stay with some rich people at the Riviera, and she meets all these famous people like Charlie Chaplin (above) and more significantly the Fitzgeralds. So then it’s biography?
But nope, it’s fiction. Which just makes you go “but… why? why is Charles Chaplin there? if it’s not an amusing anecdote, then how does that work?”
And the answer is that it doesn’t.
It’s wholly unconvincing, from details like how these girls talk in 1990s speak, to … well, the entire thing.
Such a strange book, so now I’m gonna google it.
Only two reviews on Goodreads.
That’s true:
Ida and Honoria frequently sound older than their years, and the lack of context for historical cultural references will pose a barrier to many teen readers. Characters present white.
Err… There really aren’t that many reviews out there? I guess Fantagraphics hasn’t done a good job of getting it in front of reviewers.
I was starting to feel guilty about dumping on this book here, but now I feel better:
With simple but expressive figures, which whimsically recall schoolgirl drawings, Shapiro builds a world of complicated characters whose attempts to be dazzling mask their grief. It’s a witty and wonderful story of friendship in all its forms.
I’ve loved Ho Che Anderson’s work ever since… what was the first one? I Want To Be Your Dog? That’s like 1991 or something.
This book collects Anderson’s work before that (when he was a teenager) and whoo boy, he was really cooking back then, too.
He goes on in the introduction to these pieces about how embarrassed he is about presenting it all, but there’s absolutely no need. He’s also refreshingly open about his influences (two major ones are Los Bros Hernandez and of course Howard Chaykin).
Sure, some of these drawings aren’t quite there (like the middle one on the left hand page)…
… but there’s so much great stuff here. And the reproduction on this is excellent, which is to be expected — it’s Black Eye publication, after all.
My only caveat here is that there aren’t that many complete comics here, so this is a book more to look at than to read. I’d have loved to actually read these pieces, but I guess pages have been lost over the years.
And my copy came with a lil painting and what I think much be a piece of artwork that he did back as a teenager (the cardboard piece to the left there).
You can buy a copy from Black Eye Books.
I’ve also always liked Mats Jonsson’s books — he used to do autobio books, but he’s now switched to, er, biography.
This one is about a sámi girl who was renowned throughout Europe in the mid 1800s — she was extremely tall (about 220cm, which Google tells me is over 7 foot).
And it’s really good! It’s very touching (I rate it five hankies), but it’s not maudlin. It’s also very edumacational, and you learn so much about stuff, and how evil Swedish people are, of course.
Wow, still going after 22 books…
And it’s still dramatic, but very low stakes — here the shocking drama is that there’s a new supermarket opening.
I think the food preparation sequences are more thorough now than they were at the start? I think you can actually follow these instructions and recreate the dishes now, and you couldn’t necessarily do that before.
These books are very soothing to read. And quite amusing, too.
And that’s it.
)
)
)
