Blog: You're All Just Jealous Of My Jetpack

Go to: You're All Just Jealous Of My Jetpack by Tom Gauld

Minicomic: Girl Apocalypse

Go to: Angie Wang, Illustrates (via Tom Spurgeon)

Strong Female Characters 2

Go to: Hark! A Vagrant by Kate Beaton

The King's Revenge

Go to: Tom the Dancing Bug by Ruben Bolling (via Tom Spurgeon)

Supercrooks #1, America’s Got Powers #1, Brilliant #3

I got to read a a few superhero comics with a high concept attached to it this week. On to the reviews.

Supercrooks #1
By Mark Millar, Nacho Vigalondo, Leinil Yu, Gerry Alanguilan, Sunny Gho, Virtual Calligraphy, Dave Gibbons

Mark Millar's and Leinil Yu's new series Supercrooks is another examination of the superhero genre, this time from the POV of the supervillain. Based on reading the inaugural issue, it looks like it's shaping up to be a heist story. The idea sounds interesting, although the playing with genre tropes makes the plot feel kind of obvious. The big eureka moment is when someone figures out that a successful robbery can be carried out by going to a place not patrolled by superheroes. Ya think? The crooks are the usual assortment of losers and lowlifes, while the costumed crime fighters are smug pricks who probably abuse their status. Reaaally? In a Mark Millar comic? Off course, the main protagonist is forced by extenuating circumstances to return to a life of crime.

The art is gritty and attractive, as expected of the mainstream-honed talent working on the comic. The costume designs go for the bold and iconic. If there's a weakness to Leinil Yu's character designs, it's that his people tend to look generic. This caused a bit of confusion when a Las Vegas crime boss and the main protagonist were drawn so alike they might as well be twins separated at birth.

America’s Got Powers #1
Jonathan Ross, Bryan Hitch, Andrew Currie, Paul Neary, Paul Mounts, Chris Eliopoulos, Leinil Yu

America's Got Powers is the superhero genre meets Reality TV. To be more specific, talent-based shows like the wildly popular Idol franchise. But instead of singing and dancing, there are gladiatorial games featuring super powered youths who gained their abilities in utero during a freak event 17 years ago in San Francisco. The TV show was created to channel their energies to less destructive avenues. But it now seems that the show's organizers are beginning to rethink their methods.

AGP isn't particularly subtle with its social satire. The military-industrial complex pulling the strings is obviously a nefarious entity that intends to use the contestants for its own selfish goals. The public that watches the spectacle is bloodthirsty and callous. And the contestants who succeed on the show become self-centered celebrities. There's some commentary on how mass entertainment is a way to distract the populace and a way for the privileged to wage class warfare on them. By contrast, the main protagonist is exceedingly kind to a fault. He also happens to be the one person left inexplicably powerless despite meeting all the conditions that gave the other youths their abilities. The only character who is hard to categorize is the scientist trying to understand the true nature of the super powered generation.

The art pencilled by Bryan Hitch is beautifully detailed in the grandiose, panoramic manner he's become known for. It can also get a bit distracting when he tries to base his characters of real-life celebrities, which is another Hitch affectation.

Brilliant #3
By Brian Michael Bendis, Mark Bagley, Nick Filardi, David Mack, Michael Aoan Oeming

College-age slackers invent superpowers. Nothing about my critique of the first issue has changed. The pacing is slow, and the characters still speak in a kind of shorthand that reveals nothing important, especially about the actual nature of the superpowers in question. The art is still mostly composed of talking heads. Events finally reach a crisis point at the end of the issue, when one of the characters is caught by the authorities using his powers for illegal gain. Three issues in, and the only guy who gets to use superpowers is the story's resident SOB? So no, the perky girl on the cover does not get to shoulder press a sedan. But with an erratic publishing schedule and only two more issues left, this series has pretty much lost any traction for me.

Cosmic

Go to: Zen Pencils by Gavin Aung Than (via Lauren Davis)

He just ripped-off Carl Sagan's star child statements!

Velveteen & Mandala

There's a lot in Velveteen & Mandala, which I believe is Jiro Matsumoto's official introduction to English speaking audiences, that's hard to stomach. It's a veritable series of creepy and disturbing episodes involving gratuitous nudity, violence, mutilation, rape, and defecation. It's a kind of otaku-laden phantasmagoria starring two sailor-suited teenage schoolgirls fighting zombies when they're not too busy making each other's lives miserable. All the while, Japanese society crumbles around them. And that's a strangely upbeat feature of the book. When everything and everyone else is dying, these two symbols of fanboy perversity somehow endure, inexplicably resistant to the forces of decay surrounding them. What does that say about humanity if the freaks and geeks are the people who inherit the Earth?

There's not really a great deal to be said about the plot, as it meanders about from chapter to chapter for 300+ pages and ends up explicating very little. Every so often, bombers drop corpses onto the riverside of Suginami Ward, Tokyo. And into this latter-day Sanzu wander two runaways - the violently antisocial Velveteen, and the ditzy Mandala. They both seem mentally unhinged as they take up residence in an abandoned tank and go about foraging for food. But the story takes a dark turn when the two are drafted into what appears to be an organized effort to process the corpses, which have turned into undead hordes that walk and talk like they're still very much alive. Where they originated from is unclear, but it seems that Tokyo's residents are being overwhelmed by war.

This is a visually dense book. After awhile the pop cultural references start to pile up: The vaguely reminiscent WWII setting, Hayao Miyazaki films, video games, RPGs, etc. As the violence and repellant behavior ramps up, Matsumoto gleefully captures all this with a frenetic drawing style that is both scratchy, yet detailed and accurate. Everything is covered in a texture that exudes a layer of dirt and grime. And the man loves portraying many scenes from the distorted perspective of a fish-eye lens. It's hard for me not to admire his virtuosity, even as I balk from some of the more upsetting subject matter.

What's the point of all this? Not much, actually, beyond Matsumoto exercising his artistic prerogative to shock or titillate. This is a work that actually breaks the 4th wall more than once to admit to the creator's lack of taste. And its social critique doesn't run particularly deep. Its nerd-centric focus seems more a twisted joke than embodying anything seriously-minded. But against my own better judgement, I found the final fate of these two unlikeable characters emotionally affecting. It's a strange, little book, though, which many readers will find unpalatable.

Photography: Off the Grid

Go to: Eric Valli (via Robert T. Gonzalez)

Sketchblog: This Nonsense

Merida

Go to: This Nonsense by Faith erin Hicks (via Tom Spurgeon)

Hm. Interesting title....

Generation Gap

Go to: Sam's Infatuations by Sam Hiti (via Michael May)

Happy May Day!

Hicks the Avatard

Go to: Tor, by Faith Erin Hicks (via Brigid Alverson)

Zutara! Zutara! Zutara....

Frank Miller's Holy Terror

"I hope this book really pisses people off... It's a reminder that we are in the midst of a long war. The enemy we are up against is pernicious, deceptive, merciless and wants nothing less than our complete and total destruction." - Frank Miller

I've heard the label "propaganda" attached to Frank Miller's latest graphic novel Holy Terror, his personal response to 9-11. To me, this conjured up old fashioned images of America's overwhelming military might, Captain America socking Adolph Hitler in the jaw, or Chen Zhen kicking the Japanese occupiers in the face to the adulation of Chinese audiences. But Miller's own stylistic predilections don't lend themselves to that kind of obvious flag waving and chest thumping. Anyone familiar with his proficiency with pulp conventions or his libertarian leanings will not be surprised to learn that Holy Terror is a noire revenge fantasy were the resolute anti-hero single-handedly takes down al-Qaeda instead of the usual powerful crime syndicate. There's not a whole lot that's subtle about the premise or in Miller's execution. But one question I had coming to the book is how much of this is meant to be taken seriously as being applicable to the real world?

Reading Miller's own public statements, he seems determined to be taken seriously as a provocateur. His over-the-top approach to storytelling has already split reader opinions down the middle. And that's when he was mainly sneering at superhero tropes. When exercised on actual events, the results are no less controversial. It also makes a literal reading of Holy Terror problematic. The narrative is bare bones - Analogs for Batman (Fixer) and Catwoman (Natalie) go after al-Qaeda after someone commits a suicide bombing. They torture a member for information and infiltrate the enemy lair. They kill them. The end. The bad guys are ludicrous evil archetypes: Cobra Command led by a preening James Bond villain. Unlike the real al-Qaeda, they're well-equipped to launch a succession of rapid, coordinated attacks. Heck, one of the good guys has the Star of David tattooed to his face in case no one could figure out where the book's politics lies. These action movie cliches might make unsympathetic readers roll their eyes at the whole thing. But despite this exaggerated portrayal, Miller's reactionary ideology is evident throughout. One that's underlined by the angry, snarling tone permeating the book. At no point does he distinguish between religious extremists, Islam, or Arabic and Middle Eastern culture in general. Unlike Craig Thompson, he isn't here to understand. He isn't here to bridge cultures. Miller's "postmodern diplomacy" just wants to search and destroy.

And the fantasy of Holy Terror is oddly seductive because Miller's art is more kinetic than 99% of the art found in American mainstream comics. Holy Terror is drawn in the panoramic format that made 300 an effective visual showcase. But the sweeping compositions are contrasted with sometimes awkward figures and some of the ugliest caricatures I've ever seen Miller draw. The ugliness affects both good and evil characters alike. And it's something that blunts the black and white morality of much its supposed propaganda. Actually, the curious experiments in color and odd background details more often seem to be virtuoso display for it s own sake. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Miller has often referenced his own works and of his colleagues in the past, but Holy Terror's metatexuality seems designed to avoid constructing a complex narrative. It's kind of a lazy shorthand. The emotional resonance of the main characters comes entirely from readers investment in Miller's interpretations of Batman and Catwoman. These characters grunt unoriginal lines like "my city" or "not in my watch". There's the impact of 9-11 itself, the common stereotypes of Muslims and Arabs. And there's the mute portraits of various public figures being counterposed next to panels depicting miscellaneous acts of violence, as if they were ineffectually reacting to these events. The apparent point of relying on these metatextual devices is to facilitate the revenge fantasy. The reader is exposed to familiar images of terrorists doing bad things, then they see Batman going out and killing them.

And in the end, Holy Terror doesn't necessarily deliver a cogent message. On one hand, there's the grim satisfaction of hurting the bad guys who to tried to hurt us. An eye for an eye and all that. But at the very last page is the portrait of a lone man forever terrified by the prospect of fighting an endless war with an enemy he cannot see and cannot understand. He only knows that they want to annihilate his way of life. There doesn't seem to be much hope in this version of the post 9-11 world with a fantasy that both empowers and tyrannizes.

Yoorp!

Go to: Lipstick and Ligature (via Andrew Wheeler)

Cartoon Diary: Ryan Cecil Smith

Go to: The Comics Journal, by Ryan Cecil Smith

Habibi

Habibi is a work of hefty proportions from Craig Thompson. Part Oriental fantasy, part environmental alarm, part religious discourse, and part love story. The book represents a huge leap in Thompson's own artistic ambitions. It's troubling use of of what has been labelled "Orientalist" imagery needs to be mentioned, and has been discussed in other reviews. Anyone who casually glances at it will surmise that Thompson is working in the idiom inspired by One Thousand and One Nights, which puts him in the same tradition of Western works such as Neil Gaiman's Ramadan, Jordan Mechner's Prince of Persia, or Disney Studio's Aladdin. Anyone who remembers the controversy surrounding that film due to lyrics that characterized Arabia as a land "Where they cut off your ear if they don't like your face" or the caricatures employed for the cast, will understand the problematic nature of Thompson's undertaking. And those concerns are borne out to varying degrees from his unironic use of certain stereotypes: Ornate Islamic designs, luxuriant palaces, slave markets, questionable ethnic portrayals, harems of naked, languorous concubines, a lecherous and vindictive sultan, jinns, sorcerers, and the vast expanse of the desert dominating the landscape. This is undoubtedly an exoticized view of the Middle East.

And yet there's something genuinely sweet-natured about Habibi. It certainly doesn't cancel out the worrisome aspects of the book, or the fact that Thompson has knowingly participated in an anachronistic storytelling tradition. But Thompson has suffused the graphic novel with emotion and tenderness. His romanticism is the (admittedly controversial) justification for his use of the Orientalist idiom. At the center of the book is the relationship between by Dodola and Zam. They are separated from each other and endure great misery. But the almost insurmountable obstacles they face serves to get the reader to root for their reunion. And the fantastical setting only intensifies the romanticism. The reader is maneuvered into hoping for a certain emotional payoff, which didn't bother me as much as I would have expected. But your mileage may vary.

Thompson continues to explore the same themes found in the sometimes controversial Blankets, particularly when dealing with religion and faith. Whereas that book's autobiographical approach has been criticized for being self-indulgent, Habibi takes on a more an uncharacteristically formalist approach. Blankets was attacked by some for stereotypically portraying religion as buttressing the ignorance of the citizens of small Midwestern towns. This is an understandable reaction, though I myself am sympathetic to Thompson's rejection of this part of his upbringing. Habibi represents a rapprochement with faith through the lens of Islam. Islamic and Arabic culture inspires the narrative structure. And the book is full of digressions ranging from alchemy, mathematics, numerology, medicine, calligraphy, legends, Hadithic teachings, Quranic tales, comparative religion. There's an element of obsessive fascination combined with virtuosic display, and the end result is a sprawling narrative that often threatens to upend the central story. A lot of this tangential material has to be accepted on its own terms if the book is to be enjoyed. Thompson's own formalism isn't exactly subtle, as he often moves from using metaphors to just straight out telling the reader what to think. But this obsessive pedantry results from time to time in some stunning and gorgeous imagery.

The other overarching theme of Blankets and Habibi is the schism between love and sex. A particularly urgent concern for Thompson is how to reconcile physical longing with a deeper spiritual union. The two works betray a certain kind of Christian-based self-loathing, as sex is crucial to much of the misery the main characters experience, whether it's the lust Dodola inspires in men, or the futile sexual abstinence Zam practices. Habibi pulls the reader two ways by fetishizing the decadent imagery of the harem, and particularly Dodola's often uncovered body, while negatively portraying the many depredations she suffers. It's a duality about the treatment of female characters that seems to crop up often in American comics. But the resolution at the end of the book is the kind of mystical communion that doesn't often present itself in mainstream entertainment.

Despite its ambiguous fairy tale setting, the book often comments on more contemporary issues, such as Islamophobia, ecology, and racism. This attempt at relevance isn't itself problematic, but these sections often reveal Thompson's own limitations as an outsider talking about an alien culture. For all the research he's put into the project, the manner in which the book addresses these issues often feels closer to the generic observations most Westerners make about them. There's an omnipresent pessimism about humanity's future. What's lacking is a certain historical specificity and nationally inspired impulse engendered by the intimate knowledge of a true native. And this limitation is only vitiated further by the Orientalist setting Thompson trades in.

This is the paradoxical and flawed nature of Habibi. Behind it is an earnest desire to bridge cultures and civilizations. To find broad human commonalities. And in some ways, it does succeed in its goal. But the image of the East it ultimately settles on is in many ways more quintessential than real. Many will find Habibi too unwieldy or retrograde. I also find that Thompson has written a beautiful and provocative book that I can't help but admire and continue to wrestle with.

Nagraj meets Superman, Spider-Man, and Batman

Go to: io9, by Cyriaque Lamar

Drawing Roulette

Go to: Lucky by Gabrielle Bell

I've lost the love for drawing.

I'm Leaving You

Go to: The Perry Bible Fellowship by Nicholas Gurewitch

Poster Design: Philographics

Go to: Society6, by Genis Carreras (via Robert T. Gonzalez)

School Run #2-4 and Dekada

Yay, more komiks reviewed.

School Run #2-4
by Macoy Tang

Go to my review of #1

Macoy's story of cute munchkins meeting flesh eating zombies escalates the gore and violence, and adds more twists and near-escapes. After having their school bus overrun by an unexpectedly large zombie horde, a handful of students race against time while navigating the treacherous urban terrain in order to make it to safe ground. Along the way they bear witness the best and worse of human nature. And more is revealed about the zombie plague.

The story moves at an economically fast clip, with plenty of emphasis on nonstop action and the zombie fighting. If I have one complaint, it's that the individual minis are so slight that there's not enough time to connect with the main characters or the world they inhabit. Hopefully the pace slows down a bit, but so far this is been an amusing, if at this point an all too quick ride.

Dekada
by Lyndon Gregorio

The popular Beerkada comic strip has been running in the Philippine Star since 1998, and this particular book compilation marked its tenth anniversary when it first came out. The cartoon's target demographic is mirrored by its young adult cast, and is meant to identify with their travails as they confront the usual growing-up experiences of college, dating, relationships, finding a job, or finding a life mate. And it's rendered in a streamlined, blocky style that many newspaper cartoons are drawn in these days.

The strip's main weakness is that the cast is often reduced to hooks used to hang its topical humor on, which contrary to the politically-charged cover, primarily addresses pop culture trends affecting Filipino youth that happen to interest creator Lyndon Gregorio.* They're mostly structured as three panel gags, with some extra material is thrown in to attract collectors. The gags themselves vary from occasionally insightful to plain forgettable (the majority of them leaning towards the latter), with a large number already becoming dated after only a few years removed from their original context. When read in large chunks instead of its original format of daily installments, they appear more chaotic than informative. And the usually oblivious behavior of its characters makes them come across less as distinct individuals than as a collection of annoying quirks.
____
* It also contrasts with a well-known novel with a very similar title.

Fickle Scientists

Go to: Cul de Sac by Richard Thompson

Petey's been reading some pretty old books or watching Ray Harryhausen movies, because he should be too young to remember that era.

Update: Dinosaurs just got insufferably cuter. Deal with it!

Come to think of it, Petey reminds me of Michael Crichton complaining about those weak-minded, liberal scientists through his mouthpiece Ian Malcolm in The Lost World:

"Dinosaurs were now seen as caring creatures, living in groups, raising their little babies. They were good animals, even cute animals... And that new sappy view produced people ... who were reluctant to look at the other side of the coin, the other face of life."

Webcomic: Little League

Go to: Little League by Yale Stewart (via Lauren Davis)

Webcomic: q v i e t

Go to: q v i e t by Andy Burkholder (via Sean T. Collins)

John Carter

· The advanced word of mouth on Disney Studio's John Carter was that it was a flop. No one was willing to give a film based on Edgar Rice Burroughs' classic character half a chance. That's a shame, for while it won't win any major awards for acting or screenwriting, this is as good way to waste two hours as any. And frankly, I was interested to see how the movie would be able to update Burroughs' work.

· I should mention that I've never read the Barsoom book series. But I grew up when luminaries like Carl Sagan were promising that manned missions to Mars were just around the corner. So I'm a sucker for anything that recaptures that spirit of wonder. And the sword-fighting action doesn't hurt.

· Given that John Carter established the template for fictional works from Flash Gordon to Avatar, the plot is already well-worn. An Earthling, preferably a white male, goes to alien planet and becomes a hero to the natives. The racial overtones must have stood out even more in the original books. John is a former Confederate soldier who encounters green-skinned aliens and "Red Men". The movie naturally tames much of that. John is played as a disillusioned man who is sick of war rather than as a belligerent imperialist. But the movie also reinforces the subtext in it's own unoriginal way. The more "civilized" human characters of Mars (all of them of aristocratic lineage) talk with British accents while the more tribal nonhuman Thark speak with non-Anglicized accents.

· John Carter isn't self-consciously campy, but it doesn't take itself too seriously either. The Jokes emerging from the material don't feel forced. The cast in general is pretty competent. And there's just enough world-building to impart a sense of a longstanding struggle involving nations possessing different technological levels, and varied complex cultures. It's by no means perfectly paced or wholly cohesive, probably a byproduct of adopting the source material to the filmic structure. But it went by quickly enough. Even the disorientating parts were fun.

· Dejah Thoris is easily the best-written character in the movie. It's obvious that she's cut from the classic "damsel in distress" mold, and that her falling in love with the hero is inevitable. But whatever was done to update her doesn't fall into the "strong female character" cliche either. She's fully capable - strong, fierce, intelligent, and cunning. But she's understandably driven by desperation, as she's the only person in the story who comprehends just how bad things will get if she's forced to marry the power-hungry Sab Than. She lies to the non-committal John because this is the only way to convince him to take up her cause.

· I watched the 3D screening, and found that it didn't add anything to the movie. If anything, it made the Depth-of-Field framing shots look noticeably worse.

· This isn't a particularly violent movie. But making the blood blue was an effective way to portray some of the gorier scenes.

· Woola is cute.

· The Barsoom series marks the general public's early fascination with the planet Mars. Unfortunately for the movie, this fascination is at a low point right now. And while the movie isn't bad, its story would feel familiar to fanboys, because it it is.

WIP #1 and Trese: Last Seen After Midnight

Hey, I finally read some komiks this year! Good for me. Now on to the reviews.

WIP (Work in Progress) #1
by Hub Pacheco and Teddy Pavon

WIP first began as a webcomic before seeing print as a mini. Its first ten pages introduce the reader to the main protagonist Eli, a twenty-something slacker and principal narrator who often addresses the reader directly. In the beginning, he's rendezvousing with an attractive girl in front of a comic book store. This opening is the best part of the comic. But the story suddenly breaks away in order for Eli to talk more about his background.

While I wanted to to sympathize with his plight, Eli comes across as more ingratiating than interesting. This is because he's a fairly generic character. His constant patter of fanish in-jokes gets tiresome after awhile. And much of the comic's content can be described as him and his circle of friends rambling on about various geeky topics with little in the way of a strong connecting thread. One moment they're reminiscing about their failed comic book from their college days, next they're praising the Philippine comic industry while mocking mainstream crossover events. Did I mention that in addition to being an underemployed man-child, Eli complains a lot about his inability to hook a girlfriend?

The loose, gag-filled structure isn't compensated for by the anime-inspired art though. It isn't adroit enough to make the gags more compelling, or versatile enough with the characters' expressions to make them more varied and charming. And the story never quite returns to address the opening scene of the comic. Some judicious editing could have helped a lot to tighten the narrative.

Trese: Last Seen After Midnight
by Budjette Tan and KaJo Baldisimo

I believe it's been two years since the last volume featuring Alexandra Trese, Manila's renowned supernatural crime-fighter. Given how that book contained a story arc which engaged in some serious world-building, it's slightly disappointing that the series creators have gone back to the "corpse of the week" format. But the riffs on popular culture are entertaining in their own right. Their preferred mode is to blend well-known Manila landmarks with various local folklore and superstitions. The first story "Cadena de Amor" about elemental spirits haunting the darker recesses of Luneta Park is the most typical entry. "A Private Collection" is jarring in that the main antagonist is patterned after the stereotypical big game hunter who hunts more unusual creatures just for the thrill of it. This makes it feel more like a conventional superhero story. The more hip "Wanted: Bedspacer" in which a rash of student deaths taking place close to several college campuses is connected with another kind of spirit, seems derived from contemporary Asian horror cinema. This is the book's best-paced story and is the only one in which Alexandra doesn't come up with the right answer on her first guess, or resolve the problem with violence. That's countered with "The Fight of the Year", a rousing patriotic tale in which an analog of the famous boxer and local hero Manny Pacquiao battles the underworld on behalf of the nation. For once, Alexandra is a spectator and supporting character.

While the book doesn't break new ground, the level of skill and artistry on display shows significant improvement from earlier efforts. The stories themselves aren't particularly terrifying, although they can be creepy and oppressive at times. There are a few references made to past events to keep readers guessing about continuity. So it's a no-brainer for fans of Trese. But the stories are also self-contained enough that new readers could probably use them as a jumping on point, which might be the reason for the return to this format.

Laziness

Go to: Lucky by Gabrielle Bell

Unintentional

Go to: SuperMutant Magic Academy by Jillian Tamaki

No teenage boy wants to be compared to Georgia O'Keeffe! Amiright?

And you thought your job sucked

Go to: Tor.com, by Faith Erin Hicks

That Old Thing

Go to: Hark! A Vagrant by Kate Beaton

Avatar The Last Airbender: The Promise Part 1

Writer: Gene Luen Yang
Art: Gurihiru

Avatar: The Last Airbender created by Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko

This latest comic adaptation of the popular animated series Avatar The Last Airbender functions as a bridge between the original and its upcoming sequel Legend of Korra. Writer Gene Luen Yang is a huge fan of the series, and was a highly vocal critic of its controversial film adaptation. The Promise could be described as almost a mini fourth season, with the narrative picking up right were the TV series left off. While this best serves the interests of its already established fanbase, Yang does try his best to get new readers up to speed with a short recap, as well as employing dialogue that keeps them informed about character backstories without becoming too obnoxious.

But fans will be pleased to know that the comic hews fairly close to the tone of the cartoon, which is to say that it feels like a natural progression of what came before. The art supplied by Gurihiru studios ages the characters slightly, but otherwise it looks like it could have been lifted from the series itself (minus the sound and motion off course).  Yang also gets the comic banter between them just right.

The Earth King: master statesman

Where Yang has to inject some original content is in the maturation of the cast. At a certain point the story jumps forward a year as they try to deal with the fallout from the century-long war they've managed to end. The protagonists are well into puberty and now have established certain romantic pairings. But this is still a children's book. So a conversation between one couple implies that they are not having sex, while another couple's PDA gets the "icky" reaction from the rest of the cast. Yeesh!

Yang seems to read into ATLA parallels to real-world history. His approach here mirrors the Star Trek method of using the fantasy setting to deliver political commentary. In this case he tackles a favorite topic of his - race and postcolonial identity. Having won the war, the heroes set about dismantling the Fire Nation colonies in the Earth Kingdom. They even come up with the euphemistic label "Harmony Restoration Movement" to describe the undertaking. It's ironic that the intentions behind this policy are truly sincere. And it goes about as well as any forced relocation of communities that have lived in one place for a long time. This starts to muddy the Avatar's original M.O. of maintaining peace between the nations by keeping them separate. Multi-cultural heterogeneity is suddenly inserted into the ATLA universe. Even one of the main characters is on the receiving end of a racial slur from an angry anti-foreigner mob. This jives with Yang's own concerns, but also works as a lead-up to Korra. Either way it's a "darkening" of the original concept.*

Sokka: minister of propaganda

Unsurprisingly, this ambiguity personally affects the cartoon's resident anti-hero Zuko the most. While now allied to the good guys, he's still prone to making extremely poor off-the-cuff decisions, which in turn, drives the narrative conflict. So his groupies will at least be delighted to hear that their favorite troubled teenager still hasn't shed certain bad habits. Some people just never learn.

Toph: chief of public safety

Update: Go to my review of Part 2
___
* Speaking of darkening, the book's title partially refers to a grim oath Zuko secures from Aang near the beginning. But given how Aang was able to successfully resolve the TV series' central conflict while avoiding extreme measures, this seems like an unnecessarily idiotic move. Emo bastard!

"A Wrinkle in Time" in one page

Go to: Tor.com, by Faith Erin Hicks