Showing posts with label death. Show all posts
Showing posts with label death. Show all posts

Saturday, November 30, 2019

A spotlight on Birdcage Bottom Books

Several months back, I backed a Kickstarter campaign for Birdcage Bottom Books, and I am finally getting around to reading and reviewing these books. Today, I will write about three of the ones I received, and I'll save one to write about in my next entry.
Future Corpse is a short collection of comics by Eva Müller,  whose In the Future, We Are Dead was one of my favorite graphic novels published last year. There are a few short tales in this slim book, including an autobiographical look at growing up as a feminist, a look at how Karl Marx would be in contemporary times, and a frightening nightmare about a giant snake and failure.
I think that Müller is one of the best comics artists out there right now, and it's good to see some new work from her.
This book was actually a throw-in, as they like to offer freebies from other publishers they sell through their catalog. I had not actually read any Snakepit comics before, and it's a year's worth of diary comics from (as you might guess from the title) 2009. Each day, Ben Snakepit draws a 3-panel comic about the goings-on in his life. I am not going to say that each day is eventful or overly exciting, but it is strangely compelling to see a consistent record of what people do, even if it is eat, play in a band, watch movies, and hang out.
It is an enjoyable book and, interestingly, now a time capsule from 10 years ago (which is crazy, if you think about it). I cannot help but love a book that explicitly states on the front page that it "ever shall be intended to be read on the toilet."
Rooftop Stew is an acquired taste, I would say. It is a book full of short stories by Max Clotfelter that range from uncomfortably relatable autobiographical tales to gruesome yet funny fictional accounts of way-out characters like a family of drug addicts that sells their baby, FEMA victims who are forced to farm mutant foods, and neanderthal bar patrons. It's a very visceral book, both in terms of the art style and story content, and I found the whole thing utterly compelling. Sure, I winced a few times, but it's a rare book that simultaneously makes you want to put it down while also being so gripping it makes it impossible to actually put down. Also, in a way it's also an educational comic, for instance I learned what happens to a raccoon tail if you leave it under a dresser for six years. It's definitely not a book for young readers or the easily offended, but it is certainly full of eye-popping art, weird situations, and dark humor. If you think this excerpt is funny, it might just be a book for you.
The reviews I have read of this book have been very positive. Warren Elliott called it "lowbrow comix at its finest!" Publishers Weekly concluded, "This is a yawp of a book that highlights Clotfelter’s willingness to confront his demons head-on and turn them into visceral and emotionally affecting art." Robert Kirby opined, "Clotfelter is a natural storyteller, with a worldview and persona peculiarly his own, wrapped up in a visual style that fits it all like a ratty glove."

Rooftop Stew and Future Corpse are available here to purchase. Snakepit 2009 is available here.

Wednesday, January 30, 2019

Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant?

A National Book Award Finalist and New York Times Bestseller, Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant? is a celebrated memoir by long-time New Yorker cartoonist Roz Chast, where she chronicles the final years of her parents' lives and how she came to care for them. Chast is very candid and frank about her relationships with both parents, and she was very eager to get out of their home as soon as she was able (going to college at age 16) and they seemed very much interested in maintaining their bubble. Her parents Elizabeth and George were married while in their 20s and lived in the same apartment for more than 40 years. Both were public school educators, and she was the more vocal and aggressive of the two, a vice-principal, while he was more introverted and docile, a French teacher. They were constant companions, taking care of each other and maintaining routines that masked their eventual aging and individual health declines.
Endearing, funny, and also eventually troubling.
Eventually, when they were in their 90s, life began catching up with them. When Elizabeth had a bad fall Chast realized that they needed assistance. At first, this entailed less invasive practices, like utilizing Meals on Wheels and regular check-ins. But eventually, matters grew more dire, and they had to enter into old age facilities that could offer medical and other services. Not only did Chast have to contend with her parents' aging but also their changing mental states, their growing medical needs, legal/financial concerns, and the costs of providing help without the benefit of insurance. This book is impressive in multiple ways: It is informative about the processes of taking care of older people, personal in how it portrays the Chast family and its dynamics, and darkly funny with Roz Chast's particularly witty and idiosyncratic voice. This book is a powerful read, simultaneously moving, heart-breaking, and eye-opening.

Roz Chast has a long career in cartooning and comics, with multiple collections of her New Yorker work available in book form as well as her latest graphic novel memoir Going Into Town. She speaks about her experiences and work on Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant? in this interview.

This book is much lauded and has been heaped with praise and accolades. In its starred review Kirkus Reviews concluded, "A top-notch graphic memoir that adds a whole new dimension to readers’ appreciation of Chast and her work." In another starred review Publishers Weekly called it "a cartoon memoir to laugh and cry, and heal, with—Roz Chast’s masterpiece." Alex Witchel closed his review with these lines, "No one has perfect parents and no one can write a perfect book about her relationship to them. But Chast has come close."

Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant? was published by Bloomsbury, and they offer a reading guide and more info about it here.

Thursday, December 20, 2018

In the Future, We Are Dead

I got this book as part of backing Birdcage Bottom Books' Kickstarter for 2018. In the Future, We Are Dead is a collection of nine short stories about death. They are rendered in black, white, blue, and red, via color pencils, and I was quite taken with the artwork. It is mostly done in a realistic style, which combined well with the prose to create great effects. In the excerpt below, for example, it punctuates a thoughtful, philosophic moment with a hilarious, if dark, counterpoint.
This book explores a topic that touches all of our lives, and I feel that Müller's comics are at once deeply personal and also surprisingly universal. I felt with her as she described the deep fears she felt as a child about death and the potential afterlife. Not only was she preoccupied by the potential terrible causes of death, including sickness, nuclear war, or grave injury, but she also wondered about what would happen after.

These various stories touch on different periods of her life, and it was fascinating for me to see just how her thinking transformed over the course of the book. She began to imagine the ghosts of her relatives in her grandparents' living room, which had formerly been used a place for viewing the recently deceased.
She pondered the fate of mummified Buddhists while she practiced  yoga and struggled with the corpse pose (Savasana). She thought about her relationship with an elderly neighbor and how personal and distant it was. She also explored her familial relationships, particularly at her father's funeral, and when she attempted to view her own life through the eyes of her brother. I found this book to be profoundly thoughtful, relatable, and personable. It is an impressive North American debut, a graphic novel that explores both life and death in excellent fashion.

You can learn much more about this book's creator Eva Müller and her work by visiting her website. I am looking forward to checking out more of her comics as they become available in the US.

All of the reviews I have read of this book have been glowing. Publishers Weekly concluded, "This reflective graphic novel looks the Grim Reaper in the face—and sees that he isn’t an enemy, after all." John Seven called it "a work of self-scrutiny that finds profundity by finding the commonality in what can seem so personal and singular to us." Robin Enrico called it "a strong North American debut for Müller as it showcases her artistic abilities and the breadth of her storytelling."

In the Future, We Are Dead was published by Birdcage Bottom Books, and they offer a preview and more information about it here. I also found another preview, featuring different pages here.

Sunday, November 25, 2018

The Nib Magazine Issue 1: Death

I read a lot of comics, and some of my favorite webcomics are published by The Nib, which runs political cartoons or nonfiction works. When they ran a Kickstarter campaign recently to start a print magazine, I was all too happy to sign up. This issue is their first, and it's more like a book, 110 pages in length. It offers plenty of content, divided into four sections, and the variety of works contained here is exemplary. 

The first section is Departments, which consists of items like Letters to the Editor (illustrated, naturally), an interview with Barbara Ehrenreich, and the Response feature, which here is four artists responding to the question of what they want to happen to their bodies after they die.
Comic by Emi Gennis

The second section is Dispatches, which consists of sundry strips about how the Day of the Dead compares to Halloween, a history of representations of death, and a few different takes on how funeral services are being practiced.
Excerpt of comic by Josh Neufeld

The third section is Features, which consists of larger comics. Here, there is an exploration of how tech millionaires are funding research into longevity; a fascinating look at the history of lethal injection in the US, and a memoir about losing a baby during birth.
Excerpt of comic by Andy Warner

The final section is a hodgepodge of strips, some funny and others more sober, that comment on death and how people deal with it.

The contents of this magazine are first rate, well drawn, thoughtfully composed, and diverse in terms of scope and tone. This magazine offers much food for thought as well as entertainment, and I hope that it runs for a long, long time.

I had a hard time finding reviews of this magazine, but the one I did read was very positive. Matt Keeley called it "a triumph." 

The Nib publishes multiple comics pretty much everyday, and the web version is available here. Future print issues of the magazine can be purchased here by becoming a member of the Inkwell Society. They plan to publish on a quarterly schedule.

Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Cast No Shadow

The protagonist of Cast No Shadow is a slight high school student named Greg, and he has a few very relatable circumstances. He is dealing with the loss of his mother, who died a few years ago. He is uncomfortable with his dad's girlfriend moving in with them. His best friend Layla has always had his back, but lately has a crush on Jake, a really popular kid who used to torment Greg when they were younger. Jake keeps wanting to hang out with Greg, calling him "little buddy," which annoys him to no end. And they all live in a small town full of tourist traps, the latest of which is the largest hairball in the world.

All of these features are pretty normal for adolescents to deal with, but Greg is not exactly normal. He was born without a shadow, which might not seem like the most ground-shaking condition, but it does mean that something is different about him. What it seems to be is that he is somehow able to see ghosts, especially the one of Eleanor. She is a poltergeist who scares people away from her abandoned house, but she and Greg hit it off, becoming romantic. So Greg and she spend a lot of time together, which sets off something sinister within Greg that ends up threatening the entire town.
I am not going to spoil much more, because I most of the fun of this book lay in its gradual reveals along the way. I will say though that I felt this story was very engaging and interesting. There was a lot more showing and not telling at the onset of the book, which made making sense of the dual narrators a real mystery. However, as the plot got toward the end, there was a lot of information dropped in quick fashion that made for a bumpy ride. Still, I loved the artwork and characters. They were portrayed in a cartoonish manner, but still are very realistic and nuanced. In the end I was enchanted by the internal logic of this storyworld, with its unique take on ghosts and the afterlife. The ending may seem cheesy to some, but I liked this cheese very much.


Cast No Shadow was a collaboration between writer Nick Tapalansky and artist Anissa Espinosa. Tapalansky has a few other graphic novels under his belt, including A Radical Shift of Gravity, Samantha Loring and the Impossible World, and Awakening. This book is Espinosa's first graphic novel, though her work has appeared in a number of comics anthologies.

The reviews I have read about this book point to its strengths but also its hiccups. Dustin Cabeal summed up, "The story and art stumble in places, but ultimately find its way and presents a story that I enjoyed reading as an adult, but one I would have loved to have read as a child." Publishers Weekly concluded that "although Greg’s lingering pain over his mother’s death is keenly felt, the mysteries surrounding Nick’s shadow and Eleanor’s past are inelegantly and confusingly addressed in rapidly deployed info dumps, leaving the conclusion rushed and unsatisfying." Kirkus Reviews tersely summarized it as "Engaging but not without flaw."

Cast No Shadow was published by First Second, and they offer a preview and more info about it here.

A preview copy was provided by the publisher.

Friday, November 25, 2016

Rosalie Lightning

In my life exactly three graphic novels have made me cry, this being the third. Rosalie Lightning is about a couple dealing with the death of their almost-2-year-old-daughter, and as a father of a just-past-1-year-old there is certainly a lot of empathy I could have to this tale. But just saying that this book tells an emotionally charged story sells it far short. The subject matter is raw and very human, but how it is presented is what makes this book exceptional.
Its author, Tom Hart, is a long-time comics artist and also a teacher. He has drawn comics about Hutch Owen for decades now, and he also runs the Sequential Arts Workshop in Gainesville, Florida. He puts all of his experience and expertise in display in fine fashion throughout the book. He varies his style from a cartoony, big-fingered style to portray the past and a much more scratchy, dark style to convey his present. He borrows styles, excerpts, and quotations from classic works by EC Comics, Tezuka, and Miyazaki (among others) to create a common visual language and a set of symbols that appear throughout the book, striking very specific notes at opportune times. Not only is this a masterful comic, it is also a master class on how to use comics to their full effect.
All of the reviews of this book I have read have been glowing. Publishers Weekly gave it a starred review and called it "a masterpiece—and a luminous tribute to a brief, beautiful life." Kirkus Reviews summed up, "A bracing, deeply saddening journey into death and loss whose wryly affirmative resolution, “joy breaking through the storm clouds,” is nothing but hard won." Rob Clough wrote, "The book can be described as any number of things: a prayer, a diary, an extended ritual, the act of creation used as as a way to face tragedy, a howl of anger and despair, and an emphatic display of gratitude both to those who helped him and Leela and the art that helped comfort him."

Rosalie Lightning was published by St. Martin's Press, and they have a preview and more info about it here.

Monday, November 30, 2015

Russian Olive to Red King

The last book I read by these creators, Moving Pictures, was a very mature and serious look at art, life, and the lengths that people will go to preserve both. Russian Olive to Red King takes on a different set of themes, those of love and loss, but it does so in a similarly complex and nuanced manner. This is not really a book for younger readers, not because it is full of sex or violence but because it tackles legitimately mature themes about major life events.

The story follows a couple, Olive and Red. Olive leaves for a business trip to a remote spot in the Russian wilderness when there is an accident. From there, we see how she tries to deal with it as a survival tale. But we simultaneously see how Red is dealing with it at home. As he struggles to get out of bed, do any work, or even walk their dog Pasha, dribs and drabs about him and their life start to emerge and give a larger picture of their relationship.
In an interesting twist, there are also some major indications that at least one of the main storylines is not as it seems. It is that conundrum that really sells the book for me, making for excellent drama and also commentary about the power of will and hope. I do not want to spoil things, so I won't get much more into the plot but will say that the final chapter is an emotional roller coaster ride that is revelatory in multiple senses of the word. Not only is it an essay about life and eventually hope, but it sheds a new light on the entire enterprise.

I was especially taken with the artwork in this book, and how it shifts between minimalist panels and more detailed splash pages. It contains a great range of emotion as well some beautiful wilderness vistas as the story shifts back and forth between locales. This deft combination of images helps to drive the story and create a strong atmosphere, a feature that comes to the foreground even when the time comes in the final chapter when words dominate its pages.

ROtRK is a beautiful and heart-breaking book that is one of the best I have read all year. It is the latest creation of Kathryn and Stuart Immonen, a wife and husband who have worked on many comics over the years. Kathryn has also written multiple series for Marvel Comics, most notably Patsy Walker: Hellcat and Journey into Mystery. The Joe Shuster Award winning Stuart has drawn multiple series for both major comics companies and is the artist for the latest batch of Star Wars comic books. The Immonens speak more about their collaboration on ROtRK in this interview. and also this interview.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been full of praise. Jason Wilkins extolled its virtues, "Evocative and enthralling, this is easily one of the best, most accomplished books I’ve read this or any year." Seth T. Hahne had some great points about its  experimental storytelling, and he expected the book to be "divisive" but still admitted that it "makes for a peach book club discussion." Johanna Draper Carlson wrote, "It’s beautifully illustrated, which makes the harsh story all the more powerful, particularly with the contrast with the warm, often orange coloring." Caitlin Rosberg called it "an excellent read."

Russian Olive to Red King was published by Adhouse Books, and they provided a preview and much more here.

Thursday, July 30, 2015

Sshhhh!

Sshhhh! is a peculiar and fascinating look at love and life. It is a wordless graphic novel starring an anthropomorphic crow in ten different chapters that might be a continuous story or just random episodes that happen to be compiled here. These stories range from romantic interludes that can be rather mundane but also fantastic, as the couples are beset by villainous vultures, space aliens, and other interlopers.
Other episodes are more metaphysical, with the main character encountering personifications of death, the devil, and, in one instance, himself. The symbolic characteristics of these stories, which feature emotionless faces and characters devoid of affect, leave them widely open for interpretation. They are surreal, strange, and often disturbing, but they also sometimes resemble parables. Some of them are more substantive than others, but I think overall this book took me on a worthwhile roller-coaster ride of situations and emotions.
The prolific Jason is a Norwegian cartoonist who has won a number of awards, including the Inkpot, Harvey, Ignatz, and multiple Eisners. Among his many books are I Killed Hitler, Athos in America, Low Moon, Werewolves of Montpellier, and The Left Bank Gang. He speaks more about his various works in this interview.

The reviews I have read about this book have praised its craft if not always its content. Parabasis called it "a delightful examination of love and loneliness." Jason Michelitch wrote that "Jason’s formal inventiveness is clever and at times breathtakingly elegant, but the...stories presented here don’t have the substance that his style seems to demand." Christian Perring took a more philosophical view of the book and concluded, "As an unusual illustration of core existentialist themes – hell is other people, we live and die alone, the contemplation of suicide – SSHHHH! works remarkably well."

Sshhhh! was published in the US by Fantagraphics, and they have a preview and much more here. Because of its adult themes, some sexual scenes, and some violence, I suggest it for more mature readers.

Sshhhh! has also been adapted into a short film, which you can watch here.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

Revival, Volume One: You're Among Friends


This book collects the first five issues of the hit comic book series. Its premise is a familiar one: the dead have come back to life. But this book is not so much a zombie story as it is a detective yarn. The plot and characters are a fresh take on noir stories, with elements of family relationships, media sensationalism, suspense, religious fanaticism, utter confusion, and horror all set in a sleepy, rural Wisconsin town. The main narrative follows police officer Dana Cypress as she tries to get to the bottom of the situation and also solve a murder mystery. Because of this isolated "the dead are rising" situation, she can speak to the victim, who can't remember what happened, which is pretty horrible. Dana is a single mom whose boss is her father, which creates not a little tension. She also protects a few family secrets (I don't want to give anything away), which creates more tension. I very much enjoyed this aspect of realistic personal relationships in the plot.

But this is not just a crime/mystery/family book. It is also chock full of horrific and creepy images. This ghoulish gallery gets established from the very first scene, where we see a local reporter doing a fluff piece on people with strange jobs. As she is interviewing and recording a junior mortician at work in the crematorium, the unthinkable and unexpected happens:
In time, we also get to see a mysterious, ethereal form haunt the woods in search of a baby:
And not least of all, we get to see that not all of the "revivers" are coherent or in control of themselves, especially not this older woman who is dealing with some major dental issues:
It might go without saying, but this book is for more mature readers who can deal with blood, guts, swearing, and adult themes.

The two driving forces behind this book are writer Tim Seeley and artist Mike Norton (I love the name of his website). In terms of comics, Seeley is probably best known as the co-creator of Hack/Slash, but he has done a bunch of work with various companies, including a long run on G.I. Joe. He loves horror stories and is excellent at setting tones and spinning compelling tales with interesting characters. Norton is a comics veteran probably best known for his Eisner Award-winning webcomic Battlepug, but he also has drawn a great many comics for numerous publishers. He is a masterful visual storyteller. Both creators talk about their work on Revival in this interview.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been glowing. CBR's Doug Zawisza called the series "an unexpected windfall that evokes an uncomfortable feeling, piques interest and taunts curiosity. It's a good read with great art and a weird, wild diversion from anything else on the stands this week." Alex Lupp gushed, "if you are a fan of character dramas with a tinge of horror and supernatural then this comic-book is a must read!" Drew Bradley summed this book up as "an unsurprisingly great debut to what will hopefully be a long series."

You're Among Friends was published by Image Comics. Here is a preview from Comic Book Resources.

The series is on-going and is currently on issue #18. There are also two additional trade paperback collections available now.