More NonSense: Eddie Berganza vs C.B. Cebulski

Eddie Berganza

Thor: Ragnarok, which was inspired by Marvel's comics adaptations of the Norse apocalypse, and fan favourite story Planet Hulk, is the 16th film from the ongoing Marvel cinematic universe. It's as solid an entry as any of them, with a healthy dose of swashbuckling space adventure more typically associated with Guardians of the Galaxy. But as a continuation of several plot threads going all the way back to 2011, it works very much like the middle chapter to a bigger story. This hasn't hurt its box office performance or dampened enthusiasm for the MCU. If anything, people want to know how it will pan out in the end.

What does set it apart is how it ties together Thor's sordid family history into a pointed commentary on the revisionist nature of imperialism.

Abraham Riesman lists five Thor comics to read before seeing the latest film. He also recommends eight comics for November.

Justice League is the other superhero tent film of November, and has opposite concerns. The news isn't good for those hoping it would build upon the positive reception of Wonder Woman. Much like Zach Snyder's past directorial contributions to DC's cinematic universe, Justice League is overstuffed with references  that are mostly unearned. It's a half-formed world trying hard to fool the audience into believing that it's a fully developed universe. Background information is haphazardly doled out about the new characters to make them more sympathetic. But the only reason why Flash and Aquaman are at all likeable is because of the performances of Ezra Miller and Jason Momoa. Overall, Justice League is notable for the ways it sets the stage for the future cinematic universe than for its own modest merits.

The modern superhero film is today's equivalent to the classic movie musical.

Publisher's Weekly lists its best comics for 2017.

Tony Isabella interviewed about his return to the character her created in 1977, Black Lightning.

These Calvin and Hobbes strips are a nice reminder of how we love to exclude outsiders. Seems particularly relevant today.

A page of Maus is lauded for its' aesthetic qualities.

Eddie Berganza was accused of sexual misconduct in a recent Buzzfeed article. Comics professionals reacted. Then DC first suspended Berganza, only to fire him a few days later. Even more women have since come forward. Rumours about Berganza's terrible conduct are nothing new, and DC was criticized in the past for its tepid response. The difference now is that these allegations are finding new life as part of a wave of similar allegations against other powerful male figures within the larger entertainment industry, and society in general.

What's particularly upsetting is how Berganza was tolerated despite having long developed a reputation within the comics community for being a jerk:

But Berganza’s editorial skills aren’t all he’s known for in the comics industry. At best, he developed a reputation for making offensive jokes or line-crossing comments in the presence of or at the expense of women; one former staffer recalls hearing Berganza tell a female assistant that a writer needed to make a character in a book they were editing "less dykey." Asselin recalled Berganza once telling her that the reason he didn't hit on her was because he had too much respect for her spouse. But at worst, he’s alleged to have forcibly kissed and attempted to grope female coworkers. One woman said when she started at DC, she was warned about Berganza — advised to keep an eye on him, she said, and to not get drinks with him. "People were constantly warning other people away from him," said Asselin, a vocal critic of gender dynamics in the comics industry.

Berganza's reputation spread throughout the comics industry, so much so that Sophie Campbell, an established writer and artist, turned down an opportunity to work on a Supergirl comic two years ago because Berganza was the editor overseeing the project, even though she wouldn't have had to speak directly to him during the job. It would've been a cool gig, Campbell told BuzzFeed News, but it also "felt scuzzy and scary."

"I didn't like the idea of being in professional proximity with him or having his name on something I worked on," she said.

A former DC employee said Berganza’s reputation was "something that I didn't like, but I stomached it. Everybody did. It was a gross open secret."

C.B. Cebulski

Meanwhile, editor C.B. Cebulski replaced Alex Alonso as Marvel's Editor in Chief, in a year the publisher experienced weak print sales while making controversial statements. He then admitted on Bleeding Cool that he once masqueraded as a Japanese writer by naming himself Akira Yoshida. He found himself penning comics such as Thor: Son of Asgard, Elektra: The Hand, Wolverine: Soultaker, and Kitty Pryde: Shadow & Flame. This was done to get around Marvel's policy of not allowing staffers to write or draw any of the publisher's comic books.

I stopped writing under the pseudonym Akira Yoshida after about a year. It wasn’t transparent, but it taught me a lot about writing, communication and pressure. I was young and naïve and had a lot to learn back then. But this is all old news that has been dealt with, and now as Marvel’s new Editor-in-Chief, I’m turning a new page and am excited to start sharing all my Marvel experiences with up and coming talent around the globe.

Rewarding an employee who once lied to the world about being an Asian man. Way to go, Marvel. That the two biggest publishers in American comics can put up with the actions of a known sexual harasser, and a self-admitted fraud who brushes off his past indiscretions as acceptable for a person of his lofty position, indicates something rotten within this industry.

Sana Amanat has responded to Cebulski's confession by actually defending him. The revelations have also inspired a hashtag bringing more attention to Asian comic creators. Cebulski is part of a long line of writers creating orientalist portrayals at Marvel, and within the comics industry. Though I can't think of any industry insider who went so far as to extend the practice to fudging their race and nationality for pure economic advantage.

Jim Shooter, Marvel's legendary former Editor in Chief, interviewed  by Chris Hassan.

Nobuhiro Watsuki, best known as the creator of the manga Rurouni Kenshin, has been arrested for possession of child pornography.

More NonSense: March

TCJ lists their best comics of 2016.

2017 marks the 25th anniversary of the Pulitzer Prize awarded to landmark comix Maus. Women Write About Comics holds a roundtable about the work. Last year's article by Michael Cavna quotes several comics creators who were influenced by Maus, including Gene Yang, Chris Ware, and Jeff Smith.

March is the best selling book on Amazon, just in time for Martin Luther King Day.

Isaac Butler compares the story of John Lewis in March and the presidency of Barack Obama.

Who would have thought Superman's red shorts would have become a hot political issue? Comics, folks.

Barack Obama on the power of fiction and storytelling.

Chris Ware, Cosey and Larcenet are three finalists for Angoulême’s Grand Prix, while Alan Moore steps aside again.

The Winter Issue of the Martial Arts Studies is available for download.

Ben Judkins on the limits of authenticity in martial arts. Who would have thought these kinds of discussions would eventually include lightsaber combat?

In the Shadow of No Towers

In the Shadow of No Towers was always going to be a somewhat disappointing comic book. For many Americans, 9-11 was an event that defied comprehension. And for those reasons, Art Spiegelman was percieved by some as the go-to guy to write about it, due to his reputation as the creator of Maus. He's even a native New Yorker who was around during the attacks. So when "No Towers" proved to be a far less notable achievement than Maus, it only added fuel to critics who already believed that Spiegelman was a one-trick pony who had no compelling narratives to tell, beyond recounting his father's suffering during the Holocaust. In contrast, Spiegelman's own experiences during 2001 were never going to be as overpowering.

The format probably didn't help either. "No Towers" is a series of ten Sunday-style comic strips, designed to fit a broadsheet. They were initially published from 2002-2003 in the German newspaper Die Zeit, then collected into a hardcover in 2004. The presentation in itself is an object worthy of attention. The cover design is beautifully minimal. Each page is printed on thick, glossy, cardboard stock. Spiegelman's strips only comprise half the book. The rest is devoted to supplementary material, including reprints of the cartoons Spiegelman mined for reference and inspiration. At the time, I thought everything about the book felt padded in order to justify the printing of such a slim series.

And looking at the content of the strips themselves, there's not a lot going on. The first three deal directly with the events of 9-11 from Spiegelman's perspective. The remaining material chronicles his descent into paranoia and depression. To anyone looking for greater insight into the events that day, Spiegelman has none. He develops a Cassandra Complex early on, but doesn't present any research to back up his opinions. His complaints becoming increasingly shrill over time. He often resorts to visual and verbal cliches (“waiting for the other shoe to drop”, “sticking your head in the sand”, children wearing gas masks) to get his point across. This gets tiresome after awhile. Spiegelman becomes enamored with the imagery of the glowing steel skeleton of the World Trade Center as it collapses. It forms the backdrop for all his strips. But whatever poetry he finds in it doesn't translate onto the printed page. Why is that? Is it due to Spiegelman's own limitations as an artist? The whole thing ends up looking like a giant, glowing, neon sign.

But the truly distinctive part of "No Towers" is Spiegelman's use of cartoon imagery. I've already mentioned his implementation of the broadsheet format, which he divides into roughly three separate tiers, each reinforcing one another. In addition to autobiographical bits, Spiegelman often repurposes classic comic strips. For example: the Katzenjammer Kids are drawn as the burning twin towers of the WTC. They run around helplessly until "Uncle Screwloose" intercedes by poring a drum of oil on them. Or Spiegelman visualizes himself as Little Nemo falling out of bed, after dreaming of John Ashcroft shoving him out the window. It's far from subtle, and often not very funny. Certainly not funny enough to counter the gloomy atmosphere pervading the book. Spiegelman makes the remarkable claim "The only cultural artifacts that could get past my defenses to flood my eyes and brain with something other than images of burning towers were old comic strips; vital, unpretentious ephemera from the optimistic dawn of the 20th century... they were just right for an end-of-the-world moment." Putting aside my own doubts (or personal ignorance) about the spiritual power of these strips, I don't feel that Spiegelman effectively makes the case for them. I suppose an argument can be made for their broad humor about the foibles of Americans, and its relevance to understanding the behavior of Americans during 9-11. But Spiegelman's use of them is too heavy handed, and he doesn't demonstrate that he possesses the necessary chops to capture the stylings of these strips.

In the end, "No Towers" lacks the universal appeal of Maus. Rather than trying to express something about the human condition, Spiegelman is content to let loose his own anger and pessimism about the post 9-11 political landscape. The comic is strongly tied to a very specific context. And for those who do not share the assumptions that Spiegelman makes, they will have a harder time getting through this book.

Having said that, I have become more appreciative of the urgency of the comic's message after all these years. Re-reading it for this review helped me recall that as a foreign resident at the time, I was developing a milder form of paranoia, and feelings of helplessness, from listening to all the post 9-11 rhetoric. I kept my head down, became sensitive to anything vaguely xenophobic hurled in my general direction, hoped that Ashcroft would never notice me, and secretly cringed at all the speeches calculated to make everyone conform to some collective filled with sorrow and unreflective resolve. The superhero comics of the day only served to deepen my disconnect:

Even the supervillains must join in the collective breast beating.
From Amazing Spider-Man #36, written by J. Michael Straczynski.
Art by John Romita Jr. and Scott Hanna

So yeah, I've become far less disgruntled over the slightness of "No Towers", more forgiving of its obvious self-indulgence, and far more sympathetic to the sentiments that buttress it, including the impertinence needed to express them to the largely hostile audience of the period.