Showing posts with label 1950s. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 1950s. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 15, 2020

Jack Kirby: The Epic Life of the King of Comics

Captain America. The X-Men. Hulk. Iron Man. The Avengers. The New Gods. Black Panther. These are only a few of the hundreds of characters that Jack Kirby either created or co-created. They are household names and properties that have generated billions (trillions?) of dollars for the corporations that control them. But he received close to none of such profits. In terms of industry folks, most artists and creators revere Kirby as one of the all-time greats, but non-comics people tend to not know who he was and attribute all of his creations to his frequent collaborator Stan Lee. Finally here, he is given a full biography, in graphic novel form.

Jack Kirby: The Epic Life of the King of Comics tells his whole life story, from his early days as a hard-scrabble New Yorker to his becoming an artist and taking part in the formative years of the comic book industry. He was friends/associates with many of the people who shaped American comics, like Bob Kane, Will Eisner, and Joe Simon. He bounced around several companies, enlisted and served in the Army during World War II, co-invented the genre of Romance Comics, co-created the Marvel Universe as we know it, and went on later in life to work in animation. His was an eventful life, and this book captures it in a mostly realistic, painterly style that evokes the spirit of Golden Age comics as well as documentaries. Also, the paper itself is colored to resemble yellowed newsprint, the material used to display Kirby's works.
I have to say that this book moves at breakneck speed, and it is packed full of his accomplishments. There is a part of me that wanted there to be more breaks, perhaps in the form of chapters or parts, but I also feel that the sort of compressed storytelling at play here is more emblematic of Kirby's work. So the medium very well matches its subject, though I also made myself pause at times to catch my breath and take in the story.

I also appreciated the way the book used Kirby as the primary narrator (using various interviews and articles as reference points) with occasional shifts of POV to his wife Roz and collaborator Stan Lee. I'd say it does a good job at capturing the spirit and voice of the man, and I liked how it treated him in very practical terms, with his speaking to the need to be productive and work not only in terms of expressing himself but also to put food on the table and support his growing family. Certainly Kirby was an impressive creator, but this books demystifies some of the origins of his most famous works, showing how he cobbled together his experiences, learning, and media consumption in spinning his fantastic stories and amazing characters. Kirby is impressively human.

This book also touches on the more controversial aspects of Kirby's life, namely how he was cheated out of his due as a creator and spent much of his life battling in vain to retain control of his stories, characters, and artwork. Surely there is lots of blame to assign for his treatment, and I felt this book captured well the conditions that led to it. It also has lots of source material behind it to help flesh out the proceedings well.

In seeing people's responses to this book online, the most glaring aspect people have latched onto is the depiction of Kirby himself, which you can see from the cover image. While everyone else is realistically drawn, Kirby is rendered in a cartoonish way, with a huge head and big eyes. I think this choice does two things: it draws attention to him in every way as an otherworldly presence, and it makes it clear who he is in every instance, making for smoother storytelling. Others have noted how this choice is related to how another comics titan Osamu Tezuka (the "God of Manga") drew himself in his own works, and I feel that there is a similar semiotic move made here, a marker of a similarly legendary figure. In reading the book, I have to say that I did not find the choice jarring in the least, and I was quickly drawn into the narrative flow of the story. Even though I was very familiar with many aspects of his life, I still found this book fresh and vibrant. And I feel it is extremely important now, especially as an introduction to those who are unaware of just how impactful Kirby's life was.

This book was created by long-time Jack Kirby fan Tom Scioli. His own works clearly owe debts to Kirby in terms of style, particularly his series Gødland and American Barbarian, not to mention his recent Fantastic Four: Grand Design limited series. He has also drawn a number of licensed properties, including Transformers Vs. G.I. Joe. Scioli speaks about his work on this book in this interview. For more about his entire career, check out this interview with TCJ.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have sung its praises. In a starred review Publishers Weekly called it "a must-read for Kirby fans, and beyond—it captures the mythos of the of the 20th century comic industry’s golden age."  Kirkus Reviews summed it up as "a fast-paced celebration of an underheralded legend within the comic-book industry." Steven Thompson wrote, "The public deserves to know Kirby’s story and Tom Scioli, the obsessive Kirby fan/writer/artist, tells it here in a way I can’t help but think the King himself would’ve liked, and in the medium Jack Kirby loved."

Jack Kirby: The Epic Life of the King of Comics was published by Ten Speed Press, and they offer a preview and more here.
Kirby's influence extends way beyond comics.

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

The Be-Bop Barbarians: A Graphic Novel

The Be-Bop Barbarians is a fascinating, gripping look at life in the 1950s for three African-American artists living in New York City. They are fictional figures, though they are based on real people, according to the book's introduction. The protagonists are Cliff, a light-skinned handsome man who passes for white in certain circles and who draws comic books (based on Matt Baker), Stef, who moonlights as a maid and domestic servant while drawing a romance comic strip for a black newspaper (based on Jackie Ormes), and Ollie, a veteran of the Korean War who publishes political cartoons under a pseudonym (based on Oliver Harrington).
The three friends and colleagues are involved in civil rights issues that affect their daily lives. Cliff struggles to maintain various identities (and romances) as he works and travels about town. Also, he is on the losing end of a legal struggle with a publisher who is trying to steal the rights to a character he created. Stef struggles to make ends meet and also is conflicted by some of the racist attitudes she faces from those she works for. Ollie is married to a Korean woman, and while they await the birth of a child, they face harassment on numerous fronts. All three chronicle the disturbances, slights, and inequities they experience through their art, transforming them into something politic and motivational. Their bravery and creativity wins the day even though they face numerous obstacles and prejudices.

A book like this, woven from masked historical figures, runs a danger of reading like straight propaganda or being related in ham-fisted manner, but The Be-Bop Barbarians is a vivid and vital account of the hardships and unjust social realities of the day. The various plots are compelling, the characters strong and nuanced, and overall the book is an excellent piece of historical fiction. It made me care about the characters and also learn about the times the story was set. I was also impressed by how they wove together the three different tales into a cohesive, moving whole. Also on the positive side, I appreciated how this book introduces a new generation of readers to some important, often forgotten, comics artists from the past.

This book was a collaboration between writer Gary Phillips and artist Dale Berry. Phillips has penned several novels and has multiple and diverse credits in comics, including editing the conspiracy/noir collection The Obama Inheritance and co-writing the neo-noir/punk series Peepland, which was set in the 1980s. There is a six-page sequence in this book that features his prose without the illustrations, and I felt it was an effective narrative device. Berry has been drawing and creating comics since the 1980s, and he created the first graphic short story published in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine's 60 year history. I very much liked his storytelling and how he altered his art style to (re)create the look and feel of the disparate art styles of the three fictional creators.

I was not able to locate many reviews of this book, but Molly Odintz called it "beautiful and moody, channelling the quiet desperation, simmering anger, and creative intensity of 1950s noir."

The Be-Bop Barbarians was published by Pegasus Books, and they offer more info about it here.

A review copy was provided by the publisher.

Friday, December 25, 2015

Invisible Ink: My Mother's Secret Love Affair with a Famous Cartoonist

Bill Griffith has been making comics since 1969, and he was involved in producing a good number of underground comix. But he is best known for his long-running syndicated comic strip Zippy the Pinhead, with its serial title character and catchphrase, "Are we having fun yet?" I used to read Zippy all the time, and I loved its obscure references, attention to nostalgia, and biting social commentary. A million years ago when I was in high school, I even drew a number of comic strips about a local pharmacist (Hi Nunzio!) using Zippy as my template. So, when I saw that Griffith had finally created a graphic novel, and one with such a salacious title I was eager to check it out. I am glad to say that it is a very worthwhile read. The comics are well drawn and composed, and the story is very compelling and substantial.

Invisible Ink is one of the most intimate books I have read. It is an exploration by the author of his parents' lives mostly via the artifacts that they have left behind. Much of the book is composed like the following excerpt, with a lot of Griffith's inner dialogue interspersed with images that propel and illuminate the narrative:
I was worried as I read the book that I might get bogged down by so much of the verbal exposition, but there is a good mix of sections that are more word-dense and ones where the imagery dominates the pages, like the following:
In the end, I was struck by just how much of a mystery this book was, with Griffith struggling to learn just who his parents were. His mother seemed to be striving for a bohemian, scholarly life but was trapped by her social situations and took respite in a long affair with a cartoonist, Lawrence Lariar, whose fame was fleeting and today is all but forgotten. More troubling and less spoken of, Griffith also sought to know more about his terse, gruff, and turbulent father, though in the end he is still left with a lot of conjecture about both. Certainly, I can see some people not really caring about one person's family history, as idiosyncratic as it is, but still I feel this book gets at many important themes about life, love, and family, not to mention a close look at mid-20th century romantic relationships.

This is a cerebral and deeply personal book, perhaps most typified by a sequence of pages toward the end with small, wordless tableaus accompany large text tracts of Griffith's mother's letters. I know that I was worried about the words taking over the imagery, but perhaps the best part of the book was seeing those spare images along with the deeply felt, well composed letters where she spills most of her guts. Here, virtuoso images juxtapose with artful, accomplished prose with heart-rending results.

For those wanting to know more about the book's origins, Griffith speaks more about his inspirations and intentions in this interview.

All of the reviews I have read about this book show positive responses to a complex narrative. Etelka Lehoczky wrote, "Griffith's wonderful art and charmingly bemused perspicacity would make Invisible Ink a treat even if it stuck to the narrow topic of the affair and its effect on his childhood. But he goes far beyond that." Hillary Brown commented that the book "is at its best when Griffith meanders into tangents, not when he sticks to the main narrative, which isn’t a particularly long or complex story." Publishers Weekly called it "an evocative portrait of postwar America." Henry Chamberlain wrote that what is best about the book is that Griffith "is just like any of us trying to deal with the past and that is an excellent hook for readers."

Invisible Ink was published by Fantagraphics, who has an excerpt and more information available here.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

The Beats: A Graphic History


The Beats covers a lot of ground in terms of a historical movement and its constituents. The Beat Generation monicker is applied to a group of writers whose works appeared post-World War Two and were a precursor to the hippie counterculture of the 1960s. Most of this book covers a triumvirate of Beat writers, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs. It is unflinching in its portrayals of their drug use, sexual activities, and various other activities, though it only documents profane activities and does not depict them. It also chronicles their major works, career achievements, and the arcs of their lifetimes. It is at once highly informative
as well as entertaining enough, full of interesting tidbits and good stories.
After attending to the "big three" Beats, the rest of the book contains many shorter pieces about less well known poets and writers, like Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Kenneth Rexroth. I found these succinct pieces more desirable and informative.They certainly cast a larger view of the movement and these authors that went beyond the hard-drinking, hard-living, and largely misogynistic portraits of Kerouac, Burroughs, and, to a lesser extent, Ginsberg.

Although I am a big fan of much of Harvey Pekar's comics work, overall this set of stories is a little stiff, perhaps too journalistic, and overly celebratory for me. Additionally, I am a big fan of Ed Piskor's work, but this effort is more a story with graphics than it is a graphic narrative. I think he has grown exponentially as a comics creator, and his more recent efforts on Wizzywig and Hip Hop Family Tree are more fleshed out, vibrant, and exciting. More to my liking among the Beat poets stories were some of the shorter stories in the back of the book, especially the ones about Gary Snyder drawn by Peter Kuper and Diane di Prima illustrated by Mary Fleener. I was also enthralled by Trina Robbins and Anne Timmons' tale of painter Joy DeFeo creating The Rose, and the final piece in the book by Jeffrey Lewis on poet/anarchist/pacifist Tuli Kupferberg and his band The Fugs, which excellently portrays the transition from Beats to hippies.

Perhaps the best part of this book was a piece written by Joyce Brabner and drawn by Summer McClinton about beatnik women. This visual essay provides a strong counterpoint to the rest of the book, acknowledging and transcending the sexism and cruder parts of the beatnik movement. It is a smartly written and well flowing look at a largely overlooked set of writers and thinkers who deserve more credit for their accomplishments.

The reviews I have read have taken this history to task for various matters. The New York Times' John Leland called the book "plainly celebratory" and added that it glosses over some history and is somewhat self-promoting. Pádraig Ó Méalóid, a fan of Pekar's earlier work, did not enjoy this book, stating "that the writing and art often seemed terribly static and undynamic." Gerald Nicosia felt that the beginning of the book was a "disaster" and fraught with errors, but that the latter parts focusing on beatnik women and more minor poets saved it. He summed up that it was "notable for the completeness of its portrait of that magical era - an achievement that, whether in comics or literary biographies, is as impressive as it is rare."

The Beats: A Graphic History was published by Hill and Wang.


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Cruisin' with the Hound: The Life and Times of Fred Toote'


Spain Rodriguez was an underground comix artist who created one of the first undergrounds, Zodiac Mindwarp, and also contributed many works to other anthologies like Zap and Weirdo. He was a prolific artist, known for his strong lines as well as his radical political views that came through in works like the ultra-violent Trashman and an illustrated biography of Che Guevara. He died late last year.

Cruisin' with the Hound contains a series of autobiographical comics that appeared in various publications over the years. These stories follow the "North Fillmore Intelligentsia" as they gallivanted in Buffalo, NY, getting into fights, trying to get laid, buying old EC comic books, and rolling with motorcycle gangs. These stories are an excellent time capsule that reveals many details about life and a growing counterculture movement in the 1950s, but there is also a timelessness to them. These are people striving to find their ways in the world, and it is very easy to empathize with them as they posture, philosophize, and carouse. This book does not sanitize events or get overly nostalgic either; it shows us a gritty and physical version of American life.

A central figure in all of this is Fred Toote', one of Spain's friends whose dark demise is mentioned but not shown here. Fred is a character, driving a car without breaks and without regard to traffic laws, showing off to impress girls, and often making a spectacle of himself. There is something tragic and amazing about him that very much impresses me every time I read these stories. I should mention these tales are frequently hilarious as well.

A collection of a lifetime's worth of stories executed by a comics virtuoso, this book has been well reviewed. The Comic Journal's Jeet Heer called it "a splendid book." The reviewer at Publishers Weekly wrote that it "has energy and rot and sex and fury to spare." Paul Gravett proclaimed that it "comes highly recommended" and provided a link to a podcast of a panel review of the book.

Cruisin' with the Hound contains some of my favorite comics ever, and it is capped off by a substantive interview with Spain. It also contains adult situations, nudity, coarse language, sex, and is definitely not meant for children.

Its publisher Fantagraphics provides previews and much more here.