More NonSense: Jack Kirby Centennial

Image via The Beat

Jack Kirby, the King of American comics, would have been 100 years old this August 28. The Jack Kirby Museum has a number of events celebrating his centennial.

Kyle Pinion recommends 10 must-read single issues from the King.

Jeet Heer on the King.

Walt Simonsson talks about the influence of Kirby.

Comic-Con International has made its Kirby's 100 tribute book available for download.

Marvel has a Kirby tribute page.

Heidi MacDonald has a few images of Kirby.

Kabuki Nagata of the Japan Times reports that digital manga sales might have overtaken its paper counterparts. That's a huge portent from the world's largest comic book market.

Thanks to smartphones, many people have changed how they read manga, with a myriad of e-comics just a few taps away on their handsets without the need to carry print versions. 

The rise of digital manga is also changing the landscape of the traditionally closed manga businesses as well. Seeing growth potential, many firms, not only existing publishing houses that dominated the era of paper comics but also tech and overseas players, have jumped into the market with manga apps. 

In the meantime, people in the industry say the paper market is likely to keep shrinking and its future remains uncertain. Some are seriously concerned about the fate of manga magazines, which have long served as mediums to introduce new titles, as their role is being taken over by smartphones.

Congratulations to the 2017 Hugo Award Winners.

Asher Elbein acknowledges the work of colorists and letterers.

Geoff Johns, Holy F*&!

Cartoon: Contacted in the Desert

Go to: The Nib, by Andrew Greenstone

Solanin

By Inio Asano
Assistants: Yuichi Watanabe, Takashi Kondo
Translation: JN Productions
Touch-up/Letters: Annaliese Christman
Design: Amy Martin

It’s no longer an original observation to point out that the boundaries between adolescence and adulthood have become hopelessly blurred. Stories about contemporary youth working through the disappointment arising from quashed dreams, failed relationships, unsatisfying career trajectories, while wondering when they’ll grow up, are familiar territory, especially to an audience living in developed nations. Nowadays, personal crisis is simply to be anticipated with every major turning point. I blame the economy for our present melancholia. At any rate, when Solanin was first published in english back in 2008 (the year I began this blog), there weren’t any manga around that closely resembled it. Most manga being translated at the time could probably be stereotyped as being focused on the more juvenile end of the emotional spectrum: fantasies featuring rebellious boys showing off their cool fighting moves or doe-eyed girls immersed in maudlin romance. But manga readers were already growing up, and publishers had to keep up by dipping into a greater range of works from Japan. Solanin can be excruciatingly beautiful in its down-to-earth realism. It’s a manga that will most likely resonate with anyone who's ever been accused of being a slacker, a dreamer, a snowflake, or a man-child. At over 400 pages, it’s an extended meditation on youth struggling with the contradictions of a modern society that pays lip service to self-expression while demanding its members tamp down on all that nonsense and grit it out. Making his official english language debut, creator Inio Asano doesn’t attempt to find an answer. He just keeps it intimate and personal with a small cast.

Solanin arrived when Naruto and Fruits Basket were still defining the manga aesthetic to many western fans. Asano’s art (with help from his credited assistants Yuichi Watanabe and Takashi Kondo) could still be recognized as manga in appearance, but certainly less kawaii in execution. His youthful cast often look uncomfortable inhabiting their own bodies. They haven’t yet completely shed their baby fat, or the gangly forms of their teenage years. And there’s the half-assed facial hair found on the male characters serving as a constant reminder of oncoming maturity still delayed. The visuals are not only as detailed as anything found in manga, but realistic to the point that they’re clearly being photo referenced. The overall results are not exactly attractive. Sometimes the cluttered backgrounds can even be a little distracting to the action taking place in the foreground. But the Tokyo of Solanin definitely feels lived-in: an actual city haphazardly composed of narrow and overcrowded streets.

Asano’s meticulous approach is designed to convey the mundane existence of Meiko Inoue, a twenty something women stuck in a dead end job working as one of Japan’s countless office ladies. She cohabits her riverside apartment with her boyfriend Naruo Taneda, whom she calls Taneda. He’s also ensnared in his own thankless work routine he couldn't care less about. Meiko sees in her colleagues nothing but moral compromise. “Adults are made of ‘who cares?'... As long as I’m not caught, who cares?... They pay well here, so who cares?” When she finally can’t stand being surrounded by their mediocrity, she quits. Meiko’s now free to pursue her passions, only to discover she has no clue as what to do with all her free time. Her unemployed status makes Taneda the primary breadwinner of the household, something he gradually comes to resent. Asano’s careful tracking of the growing fiction in their relationship is one of the highlights of the manga. Taneda says all the right things wanted from a supportive boyfriend when Meiko announces her decision to quit. But the subtle sadness expressed by his face and body tells an entirely different story. Taneda fails to meet Meiko’s eyes whenever they begin to have a heartfelt conversation. Before long, his inability to communicate his true feelings causes Taneda to fall into a funk.

But Taneda finds likeminded company in the form of his friends Rip and Kato. The three had formed a rock band during their time in college, and they continue to maintain it as a hobby of sorts. In the meantime, Rip and Kato have each settled into their own respective rut. Neither of them believe they’ll ever achieve anything of great consequence with the band. However, it’s not long before Meiko begins to prod them into taking it more seriously. This sets up the principal thematic conflict: whether it’s better to reach for your dreams even when they’re obviously unrealistic. Or is it better to coast through life knowing your limitations?

Asano spends the first half of Solanin slowly ramping up the tension between his young quartet. It’s delightful low-key stuff built around elliptical conversations that first seem to be heading somewhere, only to veer off when something new catches their attention. The little arguments that Meiko and Taneda have are the kind of fights which stem when people circle around the main topic they’ve been studiously avoiding. These many interactions work because of the expressiveness of Asano’s character designs. But there’s a huge plot twist that occurs at the very middle of the story which slightly alters the tone of the manga. What began as a quiet slice-of-life narrative suddenly becomes more dependent on noticeable dramatic beats to propel it towards a slightly more conventional destination. The kind expected of any emotional account of the performing artist trying to make it big in the industry. It isn’t an unambiguously happy conclusion for Meiko and company. Far from it. But Solanin sacrifices some of its initial realism to arrive at it.

For all that, the manga’s climactic concert scene is a thing of beauty. Comics as a visual medium can’t reproduce the aural qualities of music. But Asano manages to capture the mood of the concert through a forceful series of wordless panels. Witnessing their kinetic release as the band powers through with their instruments is immensely gratifying since it comes after many pages of rehearsal sessions that seem to go nowhere. It’s the one glorious moment of clarity they've been seeking, knowing that the complications of their lives will inevitably overtake them again.

Cartoon: There's More To "Less Lethal" Weapons

Go to: The Nib, by Ben Hutchings by George Lavender

Cartoon: Wake Up, America! Terrorism is Here

Go to: Splinter, by Cory Thomas

Spy Seal #1

By Rich Tommaso

The anthropomorphic spy thriller Spy Seal is unlike any comic currently being published in this genre. Rich Tommaso sets the story in jolly old London during the Cold War era. Russian spies are afoot and causing mayhem throughout the city. But this isn’t a modern, gritty tale about the moral compromises that have to be made in order to uncover terrorist plots and save innocent lives. There isn’t any wallowing in the “dark side” as Dick Cheney once described it. Tommaso’s comic is a homage to classic high adventures starring a dashing protagonist facing off against an array of dastardly villains speaking with funny foreign accents. Only in this case, the hero happens to be a talking grey seal. Along the way, there’s government intrigue, elaborate assassination plots, beautiful femme fatales, and a macguffin that will presumably send everyone involved in a high stakes hunt to various exotic locales. Tomasso demonstrates an ability to capture the rhythms and plot points that propel this kind of story forward. The result is a fairly entertaining page turner.

It’s also a very pretty comic story inspired by the visuals of Hergé. Tomasso tempers the absurdity of his anthropomorphic cast by drawing them in the ligne claire style. There’s an attractive minimalism being demonstrated which unites what turns out to be a surprisingly wide variety of mammals, birds, and reptiles walking about the streets of London. The clean, geometric shapes and flat, pop aesthetic of his color palette gives the bustling metropolis a certain period glamour. And of course, the comic’s retro style instantly recollects The Adventures of Tintin to anyone who has ever read them. This is especially true during a bizarre rooftop chase, as these types of action scenes are a staple of every Tintin comic.

If there’s one glaring weakness, it’s that none of the characters have come into focus yet. They mainly fit into broad archetypes without any sharply defined individual traits to set them apart. This is particularly true of the titular protagonist Malcolm Warner, who already enters the comic with a set of useful skills as an ex-military man and jiu-jitsu exponent. While those make him handy in a fight, he doesn’t exhibit any curiosity or independent initiative. This unfortunately draws attention to the largely accidental nature of his involvement with the main plotline. If Malcolm wasn’t in the right place at the right time, and if he didn’t catch the attention of a certain undercover operative, he would have carried on oblivious to the events around him. Needless to say, there's some clunky exposition exchanged between the characters before the actual adventure can begin.

But there’s also a tiny hint of sardonic humor that keeps it from being just a nostalgic retread. The comic’s first act takes place in an art gallery where several of the works on display are vaguely reminiscent of Damien Hirst installations of preserved dead animals. Naturally, the remains of real world creatures have no noticeable effect on the gallery’s patrons. Why should they? It’s just Art.

Webcomic: Little Red and Big Bad

Go to: The Paris Review: Pt 1, 2, by Gabrielle Bell

Mister Miracle #1

Story: Tom King
Art: Mitch Gerads
Letters: Clayton Cowles
Cover: Nick Derington

Mister Miracle/Scott Free created by Jack Kirby.

Jack Kirby’s Fourth World is a major milestone of the medium. But his densely packed cosmos told through an interconnected web of comic book titles has never been sustained in any meaningful way past the original vision of its creator. And if we ignore the occasional appearances of main antagonist Darkseid, and the Forever People, the Fourth World has largely receded from the New 52 DC Universe. In short, most new comic book readers are probably unfamiliar with its continuity. But in their attempt to revive the adventures of Darkseid’s wayward son Mister Miracle, Tom King and Mitch Gerads make no concessions for them. In fact they double down on the titular character’s tangled history with his evil father with a rather abstruse, nonlinear tale that updates him for a less heroic age. Gone is the swashbuckling hero of the 1970s who defied Darkseid’s totalitarianism with a string of impossible feats of escape. What we have instead is the weary veteran who acts like he can no longer stem the rising tide of evil. Sort of like the gloomy Luke Skywalker as seen in The Force Awakens, but only more depressing.

Just to impress how bad things have become, King quotes the introductory text from the original Mister Miracle #1, dated from April 1971:

Is he a master of spectacular trickery or is he something more? You will have to decide when you confront the strangest, most incredible superhero to appear in comics! You will see what he does! You will wonder how he does it! But always waiting in the wings are his two greatest enemies: the men who challenge him—and death himself!

That final part leads to the comic's opening scene: A two page spread of Scott Free bleeding out on a bathroom floor after he has slit his wrists, apparently in an attempt to commit suicide. He’s rushed to the hospital by his wife Big Barda. The rest of the story becomes more fragmented: Scott recuperates while experiencing flashbacks, visions, hallucinations. Or is he being manipulated by unseen forces? Is he actually still dying on that bathroom floor or a hospital ward?

Gerads is key to creating this sense of unreality. His lo-fi art is the antithesis of today’s slick, digital production values. Or more accurately, it’s just as slick as anything in mainstream comics. But crafted to appear more analog. Colors are washed out. Lines are blurry, as if the printing plates might have been improperly registered on the offset press. There are printing artifacts such as halftone and moiré patterns. Some of the pages looked taped together.

And there’s certainly nothing heroic about how the characters are drawn. Gerads’ down-to-earth representations make Scott and Barda look about as ordinary and vulnerable as anyone in reality. The couple spend most of the comic shuffling about in their cramped home. The only parts which betrays their otherworldly origins are visits from Highfather and Scott's sort-of brother Orion. That and the ever present threat of Darkseid. Almost every page is organized into the nine panel grid. Its primary effect here is to make the setting very claustrophobic. But with every grid, one panel is blacked out and populated with the words “Darkseid is.” As the comic reaches its end, more panels are randomly blacked out, until the story arrives at an entire black page occupied with nothing but those words.

This will probably resonate with many anxious Americans experiencing the creeping sense of authoritarian rule undoing years, even decades, of progress. Witnessing epressions of hate and intolerance becoming more common. Or even just the vague sense of existential dread permeating modern life. If things seem desperate enough, might death seem less like an enemy, but more a relief from suffering? What happens when your own mind becomes the trap? How do you punch away depression and paranoia? But King and Gerads do show two crucial scenes where Darkseid’s message is absent. It’s the readers’ and Mister Miracle’s lone slither of hope.

Webcomic: Sledgehammer

Go to: Hazlitt Pt 1, 2, by Sam Alden

Unbeatable Squirrel Girl #22

Story: Ryan North
Art: Erica Henderson
Colors: Rico Renzi
Letters: Travis Lanham
Logo: Michael Allred

Squirrel Girl created by Will Murray & Steve Ditko.

One of the pleasures of reading The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl is how the series has made no concessions to alter its offbeat tone to better fit into Marvel’s regular churn of crossover events. The Squirrel Girl comic is better characterised as Marvel Universe adjacent. And that’s fine as long as Ryan North and Erica Henderson can get to keep producing one of the best, not to mention the funniest, comics being released by the beleaguered publisher. So while every other series feels like it’s getting sucked into the dark vortex that is Secret Empire, our titular character is vacationing in the Savage Land and hanging out with dinosaurs, because dinosaurs are the best!

The reason Doreen Green and her roommate/fellow computer science major Nancy Whitehead get to hang out with dinosaurs is because they entered an online programming contest which claimed to award its winners “unspecified fabulous prizes.” Well, that doesn’t sound suspicious at all. No siree. For the reader expecting some kind of twist, it’s delivered at the very last page. But North and Henderson spend half the book carefully ratcheting up the anticipation of their arrival at the Savage Land, so the real emotional payoff is watching Doreen and Nancy geek out and identify every species they set their sights on, all the while dropping knowledge about the Mesozoic era. See, comics are educational.

The comic is naturally a playful subversion of the Lost World trope. It turns out that the Savage Land is now accessible via commercial airlines (even to airlines arriving from Latveria). The Land itself (or at least part of it) is being run as a wildlife preserve, complete with the usual tourist amenities such as hotels and tacky gift shops (which Doreen just loves). More importantly, everything seems to be running smoothly with nary a rogue dinosaur in sight eating any of the staff or guests. Suck it, you incompetents who run Jurassic Park!

So the mayhem promised by the comic’s Frank Frazetta-inspired cover has yet to be delivered here. But we do learn two significant things. Nancy likes cute boys who know their dinosaurs (even if they hail from Latveria). And Squirrel Girl will definitely get to ride a pterosaur (I'm envisioning the mighty Skybax rider) at some point, because it’s what she now wants out of life.

Video: Bashoiri

Go to: Nowness, by Mari Shibata (via Aeon)