Tim
Sometimes a book feels disconnected, or “lost in translation” if it is a translated work, while I am reading it. But then the end comes and re-frames my entire experience of the book. A Girl on the Shore by Inio Asano kept me lost throughout but by the time I get to its conclusion, it finally connects. The story centers on a 14 or 15 year old girl in Japan and her struggle to find connection in the midst of sexual escapades with a classmate. There are explicitly drawn scenes, which typically I would find off putting but here I found them to be in service of Asano's themes of trying to find connection with others in any way possible. The struggle is how does one navigate discovering who they themselves are, while also wanting to explore others, in a way that doesn't leave casualties? How do you grow up but not hurt others in the process? Asano illuminated my sense that as I have grown, I too have left a turbulent wake. What is the way forward and how can we do things differently? Asano's insights show more than they tell and in that way they are a powerful.
Trashed by Derf Backderf is a fictional expose of East Coast garbagemen with a non-fiction overlay of relevant facts about trash and landfills in the US. The book is mostly filled with comical scenes of garbagemen antics with fun characters and an interesting busy art style. In between these scenes Derf elaborates on his message of reducing how much trash we create. I enjoyed my time reading it and I think I learned some good tips along the way.
Wow, I'm stunned by Emily Carroll. I have never read anything quite like Through the Woods, a collection of short horror comics. I shy away from horror in most mediums because I'm not a fan of extreme violence or sex crimes. Through the Woods tells a few creepy stories that are genuinely frightening and fascinating to read; they bring me back to my childhood evenings entranced by reading Goosebumps late at night, steeping myself in that “innocent” fear. Carroll's work combines that experience with excellent storyboarding, using stylized drawings to tell her frightening stories in way different from a horror novel or film. All I can say is, what a gem!
Twentieth Century Eightball is a collection of gag strips from the 1990s written by Daniel Clowes' earlier self. The things I funny in Wilson or interesting in Ice Haven or endearing in Mister Wonderful are altogether absent in this collection. The strips are crass, boring, and mostly not that funny. There are a few gems, especially “Art School Confidential” and “Ugly Girls” where you see maturity peeking out. Beyond that, not much else grabbed me. Maybe it is a symptom of the 1990s you-had-to-of-been-there. Whatever the case, I'm glad the younger Clowes built upon Eightball to make is recent great works.
Duncan the Wonder Dog by Adam Hines burrows into your brain and implants itself, getting us to question our place in the world seen from the perspective of all creatures. Loosely, Hines is telling us a story of several characters in a world where all animals can speak but are still treated as they are now: cows are still slaughtered for food and humans still keep pets. Besides the premise, the most interesting aspect of Hines' work is how he lays a rich groundwork of different scenes in the world from landscapes, to cityscapes, to wild areas, to journal entries, and then places his narrative bits between it all. It seems Hines is telling us there's a wide world out there, and these stories are only one side of the picture. Hines' beautiful black and white art matches the tone of the stories perfectly. The going is slow; it won't be until a few hundred pages in that everything clicks. This is not an uplifting story, but at the end I felt more wonder than discouragement.
I know this book is not perfect, but it is one of the best examples of storytelling in comics. The main characters are a bit unrealistic, but still stay oddly relatable; you can't help but care for them and feel their pain by the end of it all. The story itself is a bit textbook (probably the biggest knock against the book) but it is incredibly immersive. Everything about it draws the reader in and makes them care. This quality is the book's selling point. Sure the art is gorgeous with both clean lines and a slight cartoony feel, and an impressive amount of detail in each frame. But the reason this is a great book is because it grabs and doesn't let go until the end. However cliche and trite, this book tells us that life itself is beautiful.
Foundation and Empire is the second book of the original trilogy. Most of what made the first book interesting applies here, which means it is therefore the less interesting second go around. The appeal of Isaac Asimov's Foundation series is the scope of the narrative. The story is really tracing the growth and changes of a whole universe populated with trillions of people and countless planets. Asimov takes time to zoom in on specific events and planets to push his galactic empire narrative forward. Basically I find it fun and enjoyable to read but only because of the scope of the narrative; I don't find the writing very powerful or the characters that interesting. For me this book is all about scope, but that seems to be enough to make it worth my time.
American Splendor: Another Day is one of many books by Harvey Pekar in his long-running American Splendor series. This volume is a collection of short independent graphic stories each illustrated by someone different. I appreciated how the stories were always about something seemingly mundane: worrying about his daughter, fixing his toilet, talking with his new neighbor, etc. The illustrations, however, always felt messy and cluttered despite being drawn by so many different artists. It is hard to knock Pekar's work since he has a firm place in the graphic canon, but I can confidently say his work is not my style.
I can not tell whether Red Handed: The Fine Art of Strange has several nuanced narrative levels with complex characters that all, unfortunately, went over my head, or if this book is just a bit of fun entertainment. Matt Kindt's graphic novel tells the story of a classic wiz detective who solves a few strange crimes that may or may not be connected together. Each chapter tells a new story about a different crime: a person who only steals chairs, a seducer who cuts up Picassos, etc. I found myself really interested in the criminals and the descriptions of their crimes. Then towards the end Kindt trys to connect them all together using a thread that was weaved throughout all along that is now made visible. It sort of blows the top off the book and made me second guess. However I was not interested enough for a second reading so I will never know if the characters really are nuanced and complex or just a fun read. Sometimes it doesn't much matter.
Sailor Twain by Mark Siegel is a story about love, obsession, and lust involving a river boat captain, the boat's owner, and a mysterious mermaid on the Hudson River in 19th century New York. Siegel's story deals with powerful tropes but my lack of interest in any character keep it from being truly powerful. I appreciate how the characters wrestle between love and obsession, but I won't remember their struggle after the story ends.
The charcoal artwork is fantastic and captures the grittiness of the setting, except when its more comic depictions overshadow the story's serious tone. The story is a page turner that kept my attention throughout, but the foundations and explanations of the universe Siegel sets up (or, perhaps, its river-verse...) don't make much sense. Thankfully those foundations are only revealed at the very end of the story, when I was in too deep to turn away.
All in all, Sailor Twain was worth my time and maybe a second reading but not worth a place in my library. I enjoyed it, but I won't linger on it.
Craig Carey's overview of Santa Barbara and Ventura's backcountry hiking trails and camps seems to be the only work of its kind. If you have any interest in backcountry hiking or backpacking this book is a great resource to get a description of how to find trailheads, trail recommendations, and info about campsites.
Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms is another one of those books that gave me a glimpse of their greatness, but then proceeded to confuse me and go right over my head. These few stories of the survivors of the Hiroshima bombings are heartfelt, touching, and beautifully drawn. Kouno wants these stories told and I wanted to listen, but I had a hard time following along. The narrative can seem a bit disjointed with awkward transitions, which made me feel like something was lost in the translation (or the right-to-life style was too much for my brain). Despite that, I sensed a power in the characters and the stories that they told and felt a bit of grief at how their lives were changed forever.