Come Again

In my last post I noted the death of Tom Spurgeon, a huge figure in contemporary comics. Today I start a series of remembrances about my friend and collaborator Derek Royal. Derek's death was too soon, as he was only 55. I met him several years back through our mutual friend Andy Kunka, and it was a couple of years ago now that he asked me to be the regular co-host of the Comics Alternative Podcast. Derek was a great ambassador of all comics. Our podcast focused on alternative comics, those not published by the big 2 comics companies. In that purview were works by independent presses, self-publishers, manga, European comics, webcomics, and comics for younger readers. I did a bunch of shows with him, got to interview some great creators, and also read a lot of comics that I might not have otherwise.

Derek, as rendered by Andy Hirsch

Derek was a voracious reader who read all sorts of work from all sorts of creators and publishers, big and small, local and international. He really pushed the boundaries of how I look at comics, and what is more he pushed me to examine my own thinking about comics. Most of all, he was a good friend and conversationalist. I really miss talking to him, not just about comics but also mundane stuff. We had lots of ideas for different directions to take the podcast, and I am sad not to get to realize those with him. In the spirit of revisiting my time with Derek and also revisiting some of the books we might have reviewed together, I plan to spend the rest of this month reviewing works pertaining to him. It is one small way I have to share his legacy of spreading the joy of reading a great variety of comics.

There are a good number of other tributes and memorials to Derek out there. The Philip Roth Society, which he founded, has a lovely write-up here. Comics for Fun and Profit has a good podcast about him here. I just listened to that one, and it was weird hearing him again. He sounds so vital and enthusiastic, as per usual, and I could not help but be struck by how I used to listen to him make our own episodes, how he would read the copy for our sponsor every time, and how I would also jump in at opportune moments to bolster what he was pitching. Derek did pretty much all the work on The Comics Alternative, and I felt most of what I had to do was read, be prepared with some talking points, and just be a good conversationalist. He did all the editing, posting, and everything else technical, which I find amazing.

My favorite tribute about Derek was from Paul Lai, who was co-hosted the podcast before I did. He and I had similar experiences with Derek, and I think he is much more eloquent in crystallizing just how special a guy Derek was. Go give it listen.

In one of the last podcasts we did together, Derek chose this book as one of his honorable mentions for favorite books of 2018. At the time, I thought I have it but have not gotten to it yet; I should put it on the top of my to-read pile. Then, after our hiatus and Derek's death, I did not really want to read it, almost as if I did another part of him would be gone. So, it has been on my shelf a long time, and I feel like now is the time for me to start addressing my feelings.

Come Again is by Nate Powell, a veteran and expert creator with a long list of praised works, including the Eisner and National Book Award winning March trilogy. He has also drawn a number of other graphic novels, such as The Silence of Our Friends, Swallow Me Whole, and Any Empire. He is one of the most accomplished graphic novelists of his generation. Powell spoke with Derek and Paul about his work on this book in this podcast interview.

This book is a unique one that defies easy categorization. It is a period piece, set in the 1970s at a commune in the Ozark mountains. The protagonists are a young boy named Jake and his mother Halushka (Hal, for short). They are pretty close to another family who has a young boy named Shane, but there are some secrets that are buried in that relationship. In a touch of magic realism, that secret is embodied by a cave where some illicit activities take place and where a mysterious creature lurks. I will try not to spoil so much, but one day Jake and Shane find and play in that cave, and one of the boys does not come out, touching off a frantic series of events.

 

The interplay between narrative and illustrations here is deftly woven. The characters are well portrayed with clear expressions and relatable emotions. This book is pretty dark, especially communicated via the artwork, which is very atmospheric. There are drastic contrasts between what transpires at night versus in the light of day, and I think the visuals definitely convey the idea of a tainted past impeding on the present.  Hal has a lot of baggage with her ex and others, and those feelings of dread creep into her relationship with Jake. In the end, she has to decide what to let go of in order to resolve matters. I won't way that I found the ending completely satisfying, but I this book sat with me a while and I have found myself flipping though its pages and revisiting what transpired. In terms of story and art, it sets a definite tone, and I feel that its exploration of personal relationships is thoughtful and haunting.

The reviews I have read about this book have been mixed. Etelka Lehoczky wrote, "Few creators could envision a story as unique as Come Again, and even fewer could have as much fun with it." Oliver Sava called it "striking but flawed." Tegan O'Neil was also ambivalent about the book, noting "I don’t know if the happy ending is necessarily earned because there’s something less than satisfactory" about how things resolve (If you want the spoilers, go read that review).

Come Again was published by Top Shelf, and they have more information about the book available here. This book features some profanity and adult situations, so it is suggested for more mature readers.

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.