The He-Man Effect: How American Toymakers Sold You Your Childhood

I am a big fan of Brian "Box" Brown, a comics artist who uses a clean, minimalist art style to tell many a nonfiction tale. Here, I expected to get a story about toys and toy companies, but I got so much more. This book touches on many aspects of the social studies, including history, government, and psychology in explaining the arcane and calculated strategies that have shaped modern generations. This book begins with a look at propaganda from World War I and then traces how the strategies used to sell war to a population were turned to selling goods to people, notably toys, comics, and cartoons to children. 

Box Brown goes way-back to the roots of the propaganda.

Along the path of this explanation, Brown touches on many issues, including the work of psychologist (and Sigmund Freud's Nephew) Edward Bernays, a pioneer in the field of public relations; the evolution of public domain; the importance of children engaging in imaginative play; the great toy boom set off by the popularity of Star Wars, and Ronald Reagan-era policies that deregulated the connections between advertising and children's programming. As you can see, if you are interested in tracing a great many social issues about nostalgia, marketing, and public consciousness, this is the book for you. It critiques our modern culture, delving deeply into what shaped it and what we might do differently in terms of being a literate person in the 21st century. What could have been a trifling book about playthings turned out to have much more gravity.

This book's author Box Brown has drawn a number of nonfiction graphic novels. including ones about Andre the Giant, Andy Kaufman, Tetris, and Cannabis. He also published the fictional biography Child Star. Of late he is publishing a web-comic about the state of Cannabis in the USA, Legalization Nation, and is the midst of Kickstarter campaign to fund a print compilation of those strips. He speaks about his work on The He-Man Effect as well as a number of his other works in this article.

All of the reviews I have read of this book have been positive. Kirkus Reviews summed it up as "a boffo cartoon history of the deliberate manipulation of children's minds." April Spisak called it "another clever, sharp, and well-researched graphic novel that explores a pop culture non-fiction topic in close detail." Timothy ONeil wrote, "It can sound hyperbolic to call this book important, but it really is... The way nostalgia and brands have been entrenched in our culture is only growing bigger, and it’s important to understand how we got here."

The He-Man Effect was published by First Second, and they have a preview and much more information here.

Doodleville

In part, Doodleville is a book about creativity and how it relates to people's emotions. Its protagonist is Drew, a young girl who loves to draw. What is more, her doodles literally pop off of the page and alter their surroundings. 

When she brings her notebook to the Art Institute of Chicago, her doodles run wild through the museum's various masterpieces, which especially upsets one curator. Also, one of her doodles steals a hat from a classical painting. 

 

Another problem arises when Drew feels a sense of competition with the cool creations of her friends in the art club, and she tries to remedy the situation by drawing Levi, a leviathan creature she hopes will amaze them. When they don't quite get what she's trying to do with her creation, Levi manifests off the page in a disastrous way. 

The various members of the art club all have their own characters, including superheroes, fantastical creatures, and animals, which unfortunately fall in Levi's path. A large part of the book is them planning ways to deal with the leviathan, which includes attacking it, trying to befriend it, and trapping it. But Levi proves almost impossible to deal with or contain. So in a manner, this book is also about how people learn how to relate to each other, which can be a messy and volatile endeavor.

I know that there are lots of cliches about the mental instability of artists, as it they need some sort of madness to fire their art, but this book does not really perpetuate that myth. Instead, the role of art here is to reflect people's emotional lives, and those of young people trying to find their way in the world can be tumultuous. Experimenting with identities and trying to fit in with friends can be frustrating, and that is part of what manifests in the children's drawings. I think this book is a highly respectful one, that takes children's mental states seriously and communicates just how complex they can be.

I appreciated how the artwork reflects these various struggles in interesting ways, and I also appreciated how these events are not tidily resolved at the end of the book. Also, on a positive note, the lack of resolution means that there will be a sequel set in this same beautifully rendered world.

Doodleville is the creation of Chad Sell, the artist who collaborated with a number of authors on one of my favorite graphic novels of recent years, The Cardboard Kingdom. This book continues in its vein of respectfully representing the diverse, complicated lives of children. Sell provides lots of insight into his work on Doodleville in this interview.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been positive. Kirkus Reviews summed up that this book "will draw readers in and inspire doodles galore." Publishers Weekly wrote, "Sell’s caricatured illustrations provide strong action, and single-hue overlays (purples, greens) highlight emotionally charged moments for the friend group, which includes kids of various ethnicities and gender identities." Charles Hartford wrote that it has "the perfect balance of seriousness and fun."

Doodleville was published by Random House Graphic, and they offer a preview and more here.

Hot Comb

Like Fights, Hot Comb is a book that explores childhood, race, and growing through an unique lens, in this case hair care. It is a collection of eight short stories set in different times and places where young African-American women navigate their families, relationships, and worlds.

The title story is a great example of what this book entails. It is a tale of Ebony, as a fifth grade girl who wants to have her hair permed because she thinks it will stop her classmates from teasing her. She finally convinces her mother to let her do it, and what follows is a complex web of emotions. Her mother is ambivalent, against her daughter messing with her natural hair but also capitulating, and also saddened by her growing up and becoming more independent. Ebony gets her world broadened with her experiences at the beauty shop, learning more about how to take care of her hair and also about how people talk to each other there. She is excited but also surprised by how painful and laborious the process is. Also, she just can't keep from touching her newly transformed hair.

It seems that both Ebony and her mom pay some price from the perm, and what becomes painful for Ebony is that all her efforts do not pan out as she expected at school. This story works in multiple ways, as a coming of age tale, as a family relationship story, and even as a contemporary fable. It is packed with emotion, humor, and humanity, and it introduces the reader to a great many themes that crop up in the following stories.

Other stories in this volume include "Big Ma," "My Lil Sister Lena," and the generational tensions of "Sisters and Daughters." They are all noteworthy for how many emotional and cultural issues they touch upon. The "Lena" story in particular, about how her sister was the only black girl on her swim team and was dramatically changed by her teammates' attention to how her hair changed when it got wet. They all invaded her privacy and space and were compelled to touch it, which created a sense of anxiety that manifested in self-harm.

As you can see from the excerpts, the art here is packed with all sorts of energy. This book has an emotional wallop, and I love how it plays with line work that is sometime simple and strong and other times tangled and complex (like hair!). Also there are framing images, parody ads for various hair care products that act as interstitials that inform the identity politics of the stories. They show how central and varied the seemingly mundane matter of hair care is for these characters. And how much pressure there is to alter themselves to conform to constructed ideals of beauty.

This book's creator Ebony Flowers is a cartoonist, ethnographer, and teacher. One of her mentors along the way was Lynda Barry, one of the greatest comics creators in my opinion, and I feel that her work packs as much a punch as Barry's, in spirit and not in any derivative way. She has won a Rona Jaffe Foundation Writers' Award, and she speaks about her work on Hot Comb in this interview as well as this one.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been full of acclaim. In a starred review Publishers Weekly called is a book "rich with both sorrow and celebration." John Seven wrote, "What makes it so special is the way she wraps these elements around larger themes of race without ever making you feel like you are reading A Very Important Work With A Heavy Purpose." In a starred review from School Library Journal, Desiree Thomas summed it up, "Ideal for most public and school libraries." Paul Lai also has lots of great insights in this podcast episode.

Hot Comb was published by Drawn & Quarterly, and they offer a preview and more info about it here.

The Cardboard Kingdom

This is the final book I am writing about this month that I reviewed for the Excellence in Graphic Literature Awards presented at the Denver Pop Culture Con earlier in June. It really took me by surprise just how moving and heartfelt this book was. It is about a neighborhood that is full of imaginative children who like to engage in pretend-play. They build lots of structures and costumes from cardboard, with each chapter being focused on an individual child. At first, I thought this was just going to be a light look at a bunch of kids playing together, and I have to admit that, art aside, I thought it was going to be pretty forgettable. But after a couple of tales, I was struck by a few things.

First, all of the characters are memorable and nuanced. They come from different family configurations and backgrounds. They are racially diverse. Some may seem like types initially, but getting to see them and their lives quickly disabused me of the notion that they were simple caricatures. They have different interests and distinct personalities. Some want to play out fantasies, while others want to be business people. Some want to be superheroes to help others; some want to be monsters or villains to exercise their power. By the end of the book, I felt like I had known some of these children during my own life.

Second, the issues that they have to deal with are realistic and contemporary. Some come from multi-parent homes, others from same-sex families, or single-parent households. Some deal with abusive or harsh relationships. Some are trying on different gender identities. I feel that the cast of characters is aptly diverse and reflective of modern life in the US. Although it comes from the viewpoints of children, this book grapples with issues of identity, family, and finding one's place in the world.

Third, this book is deceptively complex and engrossing. Later in the story when there are some older kids who come in as bullies and wreck a lot of their work, I was genuinely concerned for the young kids and horrified by what I was reading. This book is gripping, and it sheds an intimate light into the inner lives that children have to life, warts and all. Not all of the stories here resolve well, but they all show what can happen when you have genuinely good friends. I found myself in love with these characters, and it's a book I will read again and again.

The book cover says that the author is Chad Sell, who illustrated the whole thing, but there are different writers (including Jay Fuller, David Derek, Katie Schenkel, Kris Moore, Manuel Betancourt, Molly Muldoon, Vid Alliger, Cloud Jacobs, Michael Cole, Barbara Perez Marquez, Vid Alliger, David Demeo, and Chad Sell) penning individual chapters. In a helpful move, all contributors have a short bio in the end papers. Sell has a very strong, colorful art style that I found very attractive and inviting. I very much liked his technique where he switched back and forth visually from the reality of what the kids made and the fantasy play they were engaged in.

Sell speaks about his life and work in comics in this interview. Or if you prefer to listen to a podcast interview, here is a good one at Comics Syllabus (Hi, Paul!). This interview with many of the book's creators offers multiple insights about the stories. This interview touches on the logistics of tackling this project with so many contributors.

This book has been met with much praise and award nominations. It has received multiple starred reviews, such as the one from Publishers Weekly that concluded, "Imagination, these kids prove, can erase what seem like unbridgeable differences." In their starred review, Kirkus Reviews called it "a breath of fresh air," and added that " this tender and dynamic collection is a must-have for any graphic-novel collection." Esther Keller called it "a lovely book with bold artwork." Elizabeth Bird raved, "Chad Sell and his cadre of clever writers are here and they might just be the wave of the future we’ve been waiting for."

The Cardboard Kingdom was published by Random House Graphic, and they offer a preview and more here.

The publisher provided a review copy.

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.

Hey, Kiddo: How I Lost My Mother, Found My Father, and Dealt with Family Addiction

I am not going to lie, Hey, Kiddo made me cry. This book is a memoir about a young man who grows up to learn that his mother is a heroin addict and goes to live with his maternal grandparents, Joe and Shirl. They are brusque and caring, though they have their own issues with alcohol. Still, they take care of Jarrett in their way and instill in him a great many positive characteristics, chief among them a strong work ethic. They also support him in terms of him following his interests, and they are instrumental in making sure he had venues to create art, which was cathartic to him in many ways. Also, it led to opportunities down the road that resulted in a career in making comics (luckily for us all!).

His father is a mystery to him, and for much of his childhood he refuses to even acknowledge the man exists, not that he was present for Jarrett in any way. When he reaches later adolescence, Jarrett finally does make a gesture to meet him, and he learns about his half-siblings, with whom he builds relationships. There is so much about this book that speaks to what families are and how people try to find love and acceptance in this world, but none of it is sugar-coated. This book is powerful both in terms of its story and artwork. Both are subtle and nuanced. Hey, Kiddo is a slow burn with lots of emotional punch, and even though I was raised in very different circumstances, I found much to relate to and empathize with.

The book also benefits from a variety of media, such as letters, coasters, artwork, and various other artifacts used as chapter breaks. These really brought home the reality of these events and situations, making them have just that more of an emotional impact. I loved reading this book. It was sad, sweet, and incredibly moving. I am very glad that it exists in the world to be something that various aged readers, not just the YA set it is marketed toward, can engage with and learn from.

Krosoczka is best known for his series of Lunch Lady graphic novels for younger readers, and he has also contributed multiple volumes to the Star Wars Jedi Academy series. I met him a few years ago at Knoxville's Children's Festival of Reading, and he was a swell guy. Go check out his website for multiple versions of his biography as well as some random facts about him. It's worth the visit!

This book has garnered Krosoczka a lot of positive attention and praise. He has been profiled by both NPR and The New York Times. Most impressively, Hey, Kiddo was named a finalist for a National Book Award. The NYT's Patricia McCormick called it "brave" and "inspiring." In a starred review, Publishers Weekly summed up, "This nuanced graphic memoir portrays a whole family and tells a story of finding identity among a life’s complications."

Hey, Kiddo was published by Scholastic, and they offer more information about it here. This book features some profanity, but nothing beyond what a typical YA book might contain.

One Dirty Tree

One Dirty Tree is a graphic memoir written by Noah Van Sciver, the Ignatz Award winning author of the graphic novels The Hypo: The Melancholic Young Lincoln, Saint Cole, and Fante Bukowski. It explores a good number of uncomfortable situations. For the most part it looks backward to his childhood in New Jersey where the Mormon family of ten lived in a dilapidated house. The house is a sort of a metaphor for familial difficulty with its crumbling walls, splintery floors, and bathtub full of dirty dishes. Dealing with poverty and his father's unstable mental state are two major obstacles for the family, and NVS also delves pretty deeply into sibling dynamics as well as how he tried to build social connections with friends. These sections of the book also often left me emotionally raw and troubled, even though they feature elements of humor. I think my point is illustrated by this excerpt showing an unconventional bath time routine.

It's horrible and funny!

In addition to the (often dark) humor, there is also a wonderful sort of nostalgia about the early 1990s throughout, which I enjoyed reading (velociraptors and Ralph Snart!). A good portion of the book also shows contemporary Noah, who is trying to deal with his past and also his present realities. He is striving to make and publish comics, which involves him taking service jobs in order to pay the bills. Also, he is dating a woman who does not seem to fully understand or support what he is trying to accomplish with his career. Thus, he is frequently frustrated by his current plight and comes off as a latter-day, grown-up version of Charlie Brown. He just cannot catch a break, it seems.

If you have not caught on from reading this blog yet, I am a big fan of Noah Van Sciver, and I have read lots of his work. I feel that One Dirty Tree is one of his best books, as it is very personal, revelatory, funny, and relatable in the most embarrassing ways. Each page could almost be a self-contained tale, as they are individually packed with poignant, pointed observations. Thematically, I find it similar to a memoir like The Glass Castle, although I should note that the voice and circumstances here are uniquely his. Overall, I tend to think of NVS's works as beautiful, slow-motion train wrecks, and this one is especially compelling.

In addition to his numerous graphic novels, Van Sciver is also known for his many mini-comics (some collected here) and the series Blammo. He has a Tumblr page where posts many of his works in progress. He speaks about his career and work on One Dirty Tree in this interview with Caitlin McGurk at The Comics Journal.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been positive. Robin Enrico wrote that with it Van Sciver "further cements his status as one of the foremost cartoonists working today." Publishers Weekly called it "moving" and elaborated, "While affectionate in many memories, Van Sciver also powerfully illustrates the scars raked across an adult life by a chaotic upbringing."

One Dirty Tree was published by uncivilized books, and they offer a preview and more information about it here.

A review copy was provided by the publisher.

The Greatest of Marlys!

In the annals of comic strips, Peanuts is often lauded as perhaps the best overall but also the best at depicting the complex relationships and emotions of children. I have much respect for that comic and its creator Charles Schulz, but I feel that the comic strip that populates this collection, Ernie Pook's Comeek, packs just as powerful an emotional wallop. That strip was more of an underground/independent newspaper publication, and it is certainly less well known to the general public, but I am glad for this recent re-issued collection as it brings back into currency one of the best comics I have ever read.

Each four-panel comic is packed with text and drawings, casting a light on mundane yet monumental moments in the life of Marlys, a smart but unpopular pre-teen. She has to deal with capricious parenting, casual ugliness from peers, and friction with her siblings, pretty typical stuff really. But the ways that Lynda Barry portrays and communicates them make them instantly relatable and also wrenching. Also, although much of this book trucks in reality and some tough situations, it also does so with a lot of heart and a great sense of wit and humor.

This book is full of hundreds of tiny masterpieces, all of which add to one grand tapestry of a young girl's life. And what's more, the large format of the book and pages feature the strips beautifully. It is a masterful collection, and I urge you to pick it up and read it. This book is simply fantastic.

The aforementioned author of this book, Lynda Barry, has had a long and varied career in the arts. Besides being an accomplished cartoonist and comics artist, she has written novels, created books on art and imagination that defy genre definitions, and taught on the collegiate level. For those interested in her work, there are a couple of interviews that shed light on her career and work, this one from 1989 in The Comics Journal and this one from 2016 in The Guardian.

All the reviews I have read have lauded this book. Annie Mok called it "A great introduction for new fans, an excellent choice for young readers, and a gift to Barry’s devotees, The Greatest of Marlys comes as a reminder of Lynda Barry’s stunning, evocative, hysterically funny, haunting cartooning." In a starred review Publishers Weekly promises, "This book will bring groovy love into your life." Jeff Provine called it "a fun and inspiring romp through the complex days of the first turn of young lives." Mey Valdivia Rude rightly called Barry "one of the greatest American cartoonists of all time."

The Greatest of Marlys! was published by Drawn & Quarterly, and they have a preview and more about it here.

Animus

Animus is an enjoyably creepy book. The story revolves around a playground that is somehow involved with the disappearance of multiple children in Kyoto, Japan. We gain entrance into this world via the actions of two youngsters, Hisao and Sayuri, who meet a fox-masked ghost named Toothless. This weird being tells them all about some of the features of the playground, which include mystical slides, monkey bars, statues, and sandbox. I won't spoil things by revealing their specific properties, but playing on and in those places leads the children on some pretty eerie, fantastic episodes. Along the way they get more clues about why the various children are disappearing. Things take a sinister, personal turn when one of their friends vanishes, and they gain a real sense of urgency to solve the origins of Toothless and the playground in order to save him. 

I must say, I really did not see the ending coming. This book is both a homage to manga and inventive and entertaining in its own right. Additionally, it is complex and holds up well to rereading, and I highly recommend it.

This book's creator Antoine Revoy is an instructor at the Rhode Island School of Design, and this book is his graphic novel debut. He has worked as an illustrator and animator, and has led an interesting life. He was born in France, raised in Japan, and now is located in the US, and all of these various influences crop up in his gorgeously composed, darkly atmospheric artwork and intricately crafted narrative. He speaks about his work on Animus in this interview.

All of the reviews I have read of this book have been positive. Kirkus Reviews summed it up, "An eerie graphic novel mystery that is bewildering and unnerving in the best way possible." Todd Young wrote, "I appreciate the author’s ability to keep me thinking about the story long after I finished it." Publishers Weekly added, "Revoy’s otherworldly adventure moves quickly, but his succinct storytelling keeps readers on track with essential details."

Animus was published by First Second, and they offer a preview and more here. There is also an official website for the book here.

A review copy was provided by the publisher.

Hyperbole and a Half: unfortunate situations, flawed coping mechanisms, mayhem, and other things that happened

Hyperbole and a Half is a collection of stories, half published and half original, that combine elements of comics and blogging in a unique manner. The drawings are pretty raw but very expressive, and they only intensify these stories of childhood events, mental health struggles, and relationship issues. It is a very direct and powerful work, but also highly infused with humor. Probably the funniest bits have to do with a pair of dysfunctional and simple dogs. Here, for instance is "Simple Dog:"

But much of these tales, despite often uncomfortable and uproarious sections, deal with very real problems, most notably dealing with depression. These are some very candid and confessional comics, and they are brutally honest, more self-reporting than self-pitying. I felt that they gave great insight into personal struggles and helped me learn about what many people have to contend with.

Allie Brosh publishes her comics/essays on a blog where half of these (and more!) stories were originally published. It is a playful site full of links to more drawings and jokes not found in the book and well worth checking out.She talks more about her life and art in this interview.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been positive. Jeff Provine called it "an excellent exploration of humanity, and added, "Brosh is hilarious, witty, and all around enjoyable." Publishers Weekly wrote that "Brosh is an evocative writer who bares her foibles and shortcomings, from childhood to her present life, with a lack of vanity and a sense of catharsis that is palpable." Kirkus Reviews summed it up as "Part graphic novel, part confessional, overall delightful."

This book version of Hyperbole and a Half was a #1 New York Times Bestseller published by Simon & Schuster, who has more info about it here. And in case it has not become clear, this is not a book for young children.

Sisters

"Be careful what you wish for" is a widespread idiom that plays out in Sisters, a memoir by Raina Telgemeier that is a "companion" to her wildly success Smile. The book details a family road trip that is full of annoyances, wonder, and travails. It also contains lots of flashback scenes marked by the sepia toned backgrounds, like pages from a yellowed book. From those, we see that Raina really, really, really wanted a sister.

Well, after she gets one she finds that things are not all that swell. Her little sister Amara likes throwing her toys. They bicker over art supplies and space to draw and play. They have to share a bedroom, which creates more tension, and their personalities just don't seem to mesh all that much. Just take a look at this scene from the road to see what I am talking about.

What I really enjoyed about this book is how well it captures a whole bunch of small but very relatable moments. As an older sibling myself, I can remember many similar situations and scuffles with my sisters. Also, the characters are nuanced in ways that they are all realistic and very human, not completely good or bad. I liked that there were many shades of grey. The artwork is clean, well paced, bright, and it conveys much emotion and energy. Sisters is an all around enjoyable and well-made graphic novel.

Raina Telgemeier has been nominated for Eisner and Ignatz Awards, and she won an Eisner for Smile. She has also created the YA graphic novel Drama and drawn four adaptations of The Babysitter's Club books, which have garnered accolades from the Young Adult Library Services Association and the American Library Association.  Telgemeier talks about her inspiration behind Sisters in this interview. Or if you would rather read an interview with her about the book, you can go here.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have been very positive. Brigid Alverson commented that the author "wraps some larger truths in the minutiae of everyday life, creating a story that many readers will be able to relate to, in its bitter moments as well as its warmer ones." Maya Van Wagenen wrote, "Telgemeier uses her expressive, cartoon-style drawings to bring context and emotion to the minimal text, which is almost entirely dialogue. I love her work, not because it is exotic or unusual, but because she writes stories we have all lived, and tells them in a way that feels uncomfortable yet transcendent." Kirkus Reviews gave it a starred review and summed it up as "A wonderfully charming tale of family and sisters that anyone can bond with."

Sisters was published by Scholastic, and they have information about the book here. They have posted a video preview of the book here.

Skyscrapers of the Midwest

I read a lot about comics and comic books, and one blog I consistently read is Comics Should Be Good, which features a lot of different viewpoints about many types of comics. I recall the head blogger there, Brian Cronin, writing about this series with a curious title a bunch of years back now, and I am finally getting to read it for myself. If you want to see what he has written in addition to what I am going to say, you can see him extolling the virtues of it here, here, here, here, and here.

This book contains a collection of mini-comics and comic books about an adolescent drawn as an  anthropomorphized cat, his younger brother, and the imaginative adventures they find themselves in. Now, I know this sounds all kinds of light and cheery, but this scene is not an imaginary magical dreamworld, though it does have some fantasy elements, like giant robots that sort of look like ROM. Although this book is clearly some form of memoir it is not really all that nostalgic either. It is evocative and powerful, bringing back many of the strong emotions of youth in brutal, yet empathic ways. Reading this book, it was difficult for me not to recall similar situations I found myself in when I was a kid, some painful and some humorous. For example, these three pages are from the sequence early on in the book, a birthday with a wonderful and horrible gift.

Although he loves the gift, the reality of his age and his social standing end up crushing any enjoyment, which is highlighted by juxtaposed sequences where we see his little brother having a great time just playing with the box the backpack came in. This entire opening narrative is available in the preview link below, and I suggest you go read it. What I admire most about this opening, and the book as a whole is how it is clearly realistic and truthful about the realities of growing up. Lots of people struggle with their families, loss, love, religion, and fitting in when they are younger. Not everyone grows up popular and accepted, and the pain and nuances of emotion in this book are both palpable and powerful. Not to say I found this book depressing, but it does what Marianne Moore wrote the best poetry does, namely depicting "imaginary gardens with real toads in them."

This was Joshua W. Cotter's debut comic, and the artwork certainly reflects his growth in that area over the course of the book. I admired the rawness and sketchiness of his lines as well as how he deftly tells stories and creates emotional impacts. He also created Driven By Lemons, a book containing an interesting mix of comics, sketches, and prose. He speaks more about his life, art, and work on Skyscrapers in this interview.

Reviews I have read of this book have been glowing. Comic Book Resources' Timothy Callahan remarked that "Cotter has created something true and meaningful about the experience of growing up, and it's a powerful story." Brian Heater called it "that rare critical mass of dynamic art and storytelling" and went on that "Cotter manages to capture the wonders and horrors of childhood, which are perhaps far more entwined than we’d wish to remember." Andrew Wheeler simply called it "a hidden gem of modern comics."

A preview and more about Skyscrapers of the Midwest can be found here from Adhouse Books.

This review wraps up Adhouse Month for me. I hope that you enjoyed my look at a publisher of diverse and wonderful books from a wide range of creators. Go check out their catalog, because I only scratched the surface of their output.

Marble Season

Marble Season is a coming of age story in the vein of works like Our Gang, Peanuts, or the Cosby Kids, where children's personalities, rich fantasy lives, senses of play, imaginations, and mercurial social relationships are highlighted. In this sort-of-autobiography Gilbert Hernandez threads together the monumental and routine into a tapestry that reflects childhood experiences and sensibilities with a sense of whimsy, nostalgia, and also poignancy.

The book mostly follows Huey, the middle brother in a family. He roams the neighborhood, usually with his kid brother Chavo in tow. He gets annoyed by having him trail along all the time, but he also has a similar relationship with his older brother Junior, who is a teenager trying to act cool and hit on girls. The boys' lives revolve around comic books, professional wrestling, and television shows, and they play lots of games outside modeled on those media.

They also have lots of interesting neighbors, like the girl who compulsively eats marbles

or the new kids who are oblivious, volatile, and very physical.

In all, this is a thoughtful and moving look at childhood and its many intricacies.

All of the reviews I have read about this book have deemed it praiseworthy. In a starred review Publishers Weekly called it "a masterful, involving, funny, and real portrait of kids and their wide world, unlimited by reality—until, at least, it’s time to go home for dinner." The Comics Journal's Rob Clough summed up his review, "Hernandez’s understanding and recollection of the formative moments of childhood is surpassed only by his ability to depict it on the page with a style that is both naturalistic and cartoony." Rachel Cooke called it "a treat: beady, nostalgic and sometimes unexpectedly piercing."

A preview is available here from Drawn & Quarterly.

Monkey Food

Monkey Food is a treasure trove of 1970s memories. Fads such as CB radio, reading self-help books like You're OK, I'm OK, feathered hair, and waterbeds are all touched upon. The impact of the free-wheeling 1960's is also felt: Ellen and her family are a bit liberal to say the least. They belong to the Unitarian Society, vacation at a nudist camp, keep marijuana in the house, and host some pretty wild parties. Holding all of these references together are the very human portraits of the Forney family. Whether they are suffering through road trips, visiting mosquito-plagued campsites, or saving each other from flaming microwave ovens, their personalities really show through.

I Was Seven in '75 was created by Ellen Forney, an experienced artist and graphic novelist who has published a more adult collection titled I Love Led Zeppelin. She also worked with author Sherman Alexie, providing the illustrations for his well-received YA novel, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian.

Reviews of this book have been very positive, particularly focusing on the vibrant and expressive artwork. Johanna Draper Carlson admires the loving and non-judgmental portrayals of the family members and who also appreciates the ability to browse this book because of its anthology format. Bob's Comic Reviews loves how Forney captures the feelings of childhood and called the book "just about perfect."

A preview for this and Forney's other works is available here.

Missouri Boy

Missouri Boy is a book that brings up the big debate over why these books are called graphic novels in the first place. More a graphic poem than a graphic novel, it captures a number of moments from a 1960s American childhood: the sounds, sights, and smells of shooting off fireworks on the 4th of July, the feel of getting buried in fall leaves, and the sensations and silliness that come along with first crushes. The vignettes here are snapshots from a life, arranged chronologically, but they contribute to a larger picture of growing up, learning to deal with difficult situations and unkind friends, and setting off on one's own.

The author/writer is Leland Myrick, an accomplished illustrator who was nominated for the Ignatz Award and Harvey Award for Promising New Talent. His work has been published in many places, and he received a 2004 Xeric Grant to complete his book Bright Elegy.

Missouri Boy has received good reviews, but as we look at a sampling from sources such as Publisher's Weekly, Kirkus Reviews, and Booklist , there is also a reservation. These reviews all point to the great artfulness, poetry, and emotional timbre of the book, but they also note how it may be more well received by adults looking back on their own childhoods rather than younger readers.

A preview is available here from the book's publisher First Second.

Fist Stick Knife Gun: A Personal History of Violence

This story begins in 1958 when Geoffrey was 4 years old and starts to learn about violence. One of his brothers' jackets gets stolen, and his mother sends the boys out to retrieve it themselves. She wants them to learn to take up for themselves and not live as victims. From this beginning, Geoffrey has to deal with escalating situations that come with living in a single-parent home in a rough neighborhood in the South Bronx. What follows is a series of lessons in survival. As he grows up and he comes into contact with more people, Geoffrey learns to navigate among the neighborhood kids, tough guys, schoolmates, and various shady characters.

Geoffrey Canada first told this story in novel form. He has been associated with the Harlem Children's Zone and played a prominent role in the education documentary Waiting for Superman. He presents his autobiography as a model to address social issues, and here he is aided by Jamar Nicholas, an artist and educator who is also very involved with social justice. He is perhaps best known for his work with author Annie Auerbach on the Grosse Adventures series.

The good will that follows Canada's novel mostly extends to this version as well. The Library Journal's Martha Cornog highly recommended the book for tweens to adults and also added that Nicholas "has judiciously focused on the personal end, and his semirealistic black-to-grayscale art has just the right lived-in-yet-edgy feel." The San Francisco Book Review's Jamais Jochim remarked how well the flow of the story worked and also commented on the need for such personal narratives addressing gang violence. Reviewer Sean Kleefeld liked the book well enough but felt underwhelmed by an abrupt, hollow ending.

Chapter 1 is available here as a preview from the book's publisher, Beacon Press.