Sunday, 14 November 2010
Thursday, 14 October 2010
Inspired by the article I posted a link to about comics and architecture, I recently bought a copy of Josh Simmon's wordless graphic novel House. Being wordless you'll read this in about five minutes, but just because its easy to digest doesn't mean it isn't worthwhile. In fact the decision to make this a wordless graphic novel has certainly weighed in Simmons favour. All the tension, the atmosphere, every last nuance is achieved perfectly without having to resort to a single word balloon or caption explaining the situation. House starts off like a slightly more grown up children's adventure/buddy movie (see The Goonies, or even traces of Stand By Me) as three teenage friends meet up to explore an abandoned mansion in the woods. We get subtle hints at a budding romance, and sparks of jealously alongside beautifully rendered structures (that old cliche of beauty: urban decay) that at times seem like fantastic other worlds (for example the scene where they find a lake littered with the sunken corpses of other houses). Soon however the atmosphere changes. I make the cinematic link because House reads like a skillfully rendered storyboard to a very successful horror movie. As a fan of horror films whose occasional inability to empathise with characters makes it difficult for them to feel fear (except of the unknown jumps and starts that litter any film) I know House does a good job because it manages to make me feel the teenager's fear, their claustrophobia, their eventual hopelessness, all without the aid of a tension building soundtrack. That old mantra 'it's what you can't see that scares you' is pretty well suited here.
It is similar in a vein to Spanish horror film REC or a less hyperbolic Saw. It manages to make me wonder how I would cope in the same situation, the ultimate compliment for any horror film/comic. The eventual engulfing of the black panel borders onto the images themselves represents the fading light of life and hope in the situation, the desperation, the claustraphobic element of their surroundings. A partial blur of an unkown figure seen by the boy who has lost is glasses is also a nice touch. The ending comes as a twist, it is a rare thing in a horror movie (especially where a teenage cast is concerned) that no one survives, but this is the shocking power of House, and the fact that they mysterious forces at work in the mansion are never revealed is also another teasing and tantalising touch. A perfectly chilling read!
Wednesday, 13 October 2010
*Slave Labour Graphics are notorious for some pretty cringe worthy goth themed comics
Jin and Jam No 1-Hellen Jo
Comic artist Jordan Crane's website What Things Do is a haven for reading good comics online. He's made available early Yeast Hoist stuff by Ron Rege Jr, a bunch of Sammy Harkham strips, the entirety of his own graphic novel The Clouds Above, and much more besides. He also has a news/blog roll that runs alongside it.
The latest edition to the site is a fantastic hybridisation of manga and American comics and Calafornia culture, Jin and Jam by Hellen Jo. It straddles that line between East and West precisely because Jo was born in America and considers America her home, but is also Asian. Artistically it sits somewhere between Jillian Tamaki's artwork for the graphic novel Skim (especially with the large chins of her characters) and the grotesque surrealism of Taiyo Matsumoto (she quotes Black and White at the beginning of the comic). The addition of a cat fight with con-joined twins is certainly very reminiscent of Matsumoto (as well as Charles Burns and the kind of off the wall characters you'd find in Jim Rugg's Afrodisiac). Traces of oriental folk art and art nouveau burst through in some of the details, such as the twins hair during the fight scene. This comic is violent and stupid, but also warms your heart ever so slightly. It makes us remember that the people worth talking to, the people worth hanging out with, aren't really the popular ones, but the outsiders, the ones who don't really fit in anywhere, and thus bind together, and generally have more fun. Whereas Skim by Jillian and Mariko Tamaki also deals with outsiders, and the superficiality and shallowness of school life, it is a great deal more angst ridden whereas Jin and Jan seems carefree and optimistic, ready to face the new adventure of adult life, but in no rush to leave the current adventure just yet. I liked Jim and Jan so much I bought it, reckoning it would be a nice thing to own in print/hard copy (the cover and end pages are finished with great watercolours).
View Hellen's site here.
Tuesday, 12 October 2010
Sunday, 10 October 2010
That's Novel! Exhibition at London Print Studio. 22nd Oct-18th December
Following the huge success of the Hypercomics exhibition ( which was Time Out's exhibition of the week, and got a pretty rave review from Canadian comics critic Bart Beaty) Paul Gravett is curating what will no doubt be another fantastic exhibition entitled That's Novel! Featuring work from international stars like Ho Che Anderson (artist and author behind the Martin Luther King graphic biography) and Robert Kirkman (The Walking Dead) as well as members of the British small press scene Paul Rainey, Savage Pencil, Darryl Cunningham, Philippa Rice, etc
Also featuring work from the artists of illustration/comics publisher Nobrow and a first chance to see the work of Argentian artist Carlos Nine. Like Hypercomics this exhibition will also be free!
Paul Gravett hosts comics panel at DSC South Asian Literature Festival. Sat Oct 23rd. Q Forum, London. 7pm
Paul Gravett will be hosting a panel discussion called A Visual Renaissance: The Rise of Graphic Novels in South Asia. Joining him on the panel will be Mustashrik who was the artist for Julius Ceaser for SelfMadeHero's Manga Shakesphere line as well as being a very successful commercial artist in his own right, working with Coca Cola, Stella Artois and The Department for Transport.
Also joining him and representing the small press scene will be Kripa Joshi a former graduate of New York's School of Visual Arts from Nepal whose folk art inspired comic adventures of Miss Motti are available for purchase in Gosh Comics and The Cartoon Museum in London. Finally the third panellist will be British talent and author of Rumble Strip Woodrow Phoenix, who visited India last November through The British Council to lead comics workshop, meet graphic novelists, and check out the current comic scene (lucky git!). The panel will be held at Q Forum, and tickets will cost £8 including drinks.
Melinda Gebbe @ Laydeez Do Comics Monday 25th October The Rag Factory, Brick Lane, London. 6.30pm-9.30pm
Having immensely enjoyed the atmosphere of their last meeting, a special talk given by underground comix legend Trina Robbins, I look forward to taking the trip up to London again this month. This months meeting returns to its usual multi-speaker format but is headed by another pioneering figure in the wimmin's comix movement, Melinda Gebbe, who is now based in Nottingham with husband Alan Moore with whom she collaborated on the jaw-dropping three volume ode to Victorian porn and childhood fairy tales, Lost Girls. Also speaking will be Lisa Gornick, a London based filmmaker who keeps a blog of daily drawings about her film making, Sina Shamsavari, an autobiographical comic artist currently doing a PhD about queer alternative comics at Goldsmiths in London, and artist Michael O'Mahony. It costs a measly £1.50 to get in and you get free homemade cookies in the bargain, plus you're welcome to join them for curry in brick lane afterwards.
Spice Arthur 702. Live manga storytelling with instrumental accompaniment. 26th October. Soho Theater, Dean Street, London. 8pm.
A modern take on the traditional Japanese art form of picture storytelling Kamishibai which gave birth to Manga as we know it today. Although this is all in Japanese, an English synopsis will be provided for each tale, and the combination of crazy voices, sound effects, and trumpet and drum accompaniment should make this an exciting and once in a lifetime event. Click here to view a YouTube video of the group in action.
Thought Bubble Leeds & Women In Comics Conference II. 18th November. Leeds Art Gallery, Lecture Theater, Henry Moore Room. 10.30am-5pm.
As part of the annual Thought Bubble sequential art festival in Leeds which takes place between the 18th and the 21st of November, there will be an all day academic conference concerning the role of women in the comics industry, and the representation of women in comics, amongst other things. The guest speaker of the conference will be Suzy Varty who published the first all women comic in the UK (Heroine) in 1977. Email firstname.lastname@example.org for tickets. For more information of the rest of the Thought Bubble events click here.
Friday, 8 October 2010
It is refreshing to see things from a Doctor's eye view rather than from the side of the patient for a change. In medical narrative graphic novels the doctors have often been background figures, simply there to represent the treatment taking place (although notably Pekar's doctor in Our Cancer Year does take an interest in the whole comics process and forms a closer than usual doctor patient bond). But this is slowly changing, there are now a small rash of comics coming out that are telling us that even the health care professional who is supposed to be unbiased, unemotional, and unbreakable, can be vulnerable, judgemental, and shockingly, human. Williams does this perfectly by showing how his alter ego's childhood anxieties follow him into his adult and professional life (it seems weird to think of a doctor who grows faint at the sight of blood, but I'm sure they're out there). Elsewhere we see how Dr Ferrier maintains his sanity when faced with particularly troublesome patients, and how sometimes his desire to care is outweighed by his desire to be left alone. He addresses questionable ethical practices, is honest about some of his less favourable motives for becoming a doctor, and shows us that in order to be doctor you have to appear tough and emotionless on the outside but on the inside this isn't always that case. This comic would probably be a breath air to any medical student or indeed any health care professional right now, it might let them know they are not alone.
Fear of Failure is more like a doctor themed soap opera except it replaces the unlikely story lines and melodrama (save for the reappearance of Lois's mother who looks slightly vampish, like camp goth icon El Vira) with a distinctly British dry sardonic wit and a slightly wishful cool (a female doctor who wears a Sonic Youth t-shirt is a bit of a fantasy/wet dream for certain hipster types out there no doubt). This time around there is even less in depth focus on the patients (except for a patient with some unsettling yet amusing anecdotes about his neighbours cats, apparently inspired by a real life encounter) but at the same time there isn't a huge focus on the life as a doctor side of things either. Instead we get treated to the personal life of Dr Lois Pritchard, her ex-coal miner father, feelings of childhood guilt, and the soul crushing world of office politics that she must contend with in order to maintain a level of professionalism. It is clear also that the job does affect her, from the small snippets we get of her diary, and from the persistence of surreal nightmares. We get more subtle hints of her day to day strain through a secession of small restrictive silent panels inter splicing close ups of various patients ills with her reactions. There is subtle comedy at work too, for example when she leaves her Dictaphone on when interrupted mid dictation and bitches about a work colleague, her secetary finds the message later when she dictates it. Little clues are dotted throughout the comic as to the conclusion of the issue, and similar to a soap opera or a murder mystery program on television we start at the end with the vital facts omitted until the full extent of the facts are revealed again at the end (although of course we are left with a cliff hanger). All these are quite interesting and well executed storytelling techniques to employ in a comic. With Fear Of Failure it took me a couple of re-reads to appreciate the various nuances, although the feeling of it being a bit like a soap opera was still nagging away in the background. The character of Lois Pritchard is essentially cut from the same cloth as William's alter ego Dr.Ferrier: cold, distant, angry, yet anxious and vulnerable, and I'm sure both of them are characters that actual doctors can easily relate to. However, there was something much more real about the stories in Disrepute, maybe because it seemed like thinly veiled autobiography, and autobiography can be a useful, even life-affirming, tool in the right hands.
I see this as a very minor bone of contention and think that Ian Williams has really got his eye on the ball when it comes to the marriage of medicine and comics and I hope that he continues to produce comics, as well run his fantastic site Graphic Medicine, far into the future.
Saturday, 2 October 2010
My previous cat experience was with an understandably disgruntled three legged cat (who was made worse by my little brothers cruel streak) who I was afraid to walk past barefoot down the stairs. As a result of this I've always been more of a dog person until recently, which is probably why I enjoy this book so much.
The pictures in here remind me of the silly voice a friend of mine would put on whenever they saw a cat, of the imagined situations and personalities she would instill them with. The process of anthropomorphism here is a deceptively simple one here, it's all in the eyes: two simple circles with slight variations that symbolise annoyance, surprise, curiosity, and a whole host of other emotions. Kliban's cats aren't idealised either, you can tell he loves them for all their traits, even the less desirable ones. This is defiantly more in depth then the cliched poster of a kitten hanging from a tree branch. Kliban's nonsense cat language is also delightful, with a range of cats sounds you've probably never heard but at the same time don't seem entirely unlikely (wacka wacka and honk honk are among my favourites). If you own or like cats each picture in this collection will make you laugh out loud, and if you don't laugh out loud you probably have a lump of coal where your heart should be. The special bond between an owner and their cat (as well as the obvious question when it comes to cats: who owns who?) is described here with a very subtle and sparing use of words. It is the visual rather than the verbal pun that triumphs here (catchup. pursey cat, cat eyes etc). Dedicated with love to his own cats (who he draws in a more realistic manner throughout the collection), by the end of the book you get a real feel for cats not with a human personality but with something in between human and animal, something unique, something cat. Purrfect (sorry, I couldn't resist).
Friday, 1 October 2010
Keep your eyes peeled on the Sol Pop site here, there will be a launch party in November along with a children's comics workshop in early November. It is also available to pre-order on the site and is limited to a 500 print run.
'John Callahan is no ordinary cartoonist' starts the brief introduction to this book. The idea of any cartoonist being ordinary is quite a laughable one to me. Comics (or at least the type of comics I'm partial to) are usually the venting of the guilty, the repressed, and the downright neurotic. Callahan certainly ticks all the alternative comic artist boxes in this sense, and gets extra brownie points for a difficult and religious upbringing (it seems one of the key ingredients in some of the best comic artists out there-Crumb, Justin Green etc, is Catholic guilt). Not only this but Callahan was an alcoholic at 12 and a quadriplegic at the age of 21. My friend commented that he was one of those people who couldn't t draw but who gets away with it because of the humour inherent in their work. Now whether or not Callahan could draw before his car accident, I can't be sure, I do know that cartooning was something that he came back to almost as part of his recovery process from alcoholism. But it is not entirely a deliberate primitive style on his part but actually because he can't move all his fingers and has to use his left arm to guide his right when drawing, although in my opinion it does add to the overall effect.
Callahan's gag cartoons to me epitomise the phrase 'gallows humour'. Instead of drawing cartoons and attaching words about how hard his life is and was, Callahan doesn't play the victim, and lampoons everyone and everything he can. Even though his cartoons are not about him you can tell he pours himself into them, and you can tell that the humour he adopts is cathartic, his own personal way of dealing with his lot. It is refreshing to see someone with a disability laugh at themselves, reminding us not to be too oversensitive, and indeed that laughter is the best medicines. But he doesn't just laugh at himself. no stones are left unturned: from cocaine addicts ('It doesn't seem like Christmas without snow') to schizophrenics and people in L.A. These cartoons are like the politically incorrect evil twin of the classic New Yorker gag cartoon, or better yet Johnny Ryan with brains. Even the cartoons without captions, even though they are crude, are remarkably easy to decipher and instantly hilarious (see below).
Deceptively simple, twisted, but not without a message, Callahan (who sadly died this year) was an innovative master of his craft and an inspiration for many (as the accolades from Matt Groening, Gary Larson, and Don Martin on the back of the book show). Having read this small collection I feel inspired to go out and get his best selling illustrated autobiography 'Don't worry, He won't get far on foot' which I can imagine will contain as much wit and perseverance as the drawings in this collection.
Woodring himself addressed this pretty well in his acceptance speech, which you can read here.
(*1) I'd like to think this is a view that is on it's way out, the recent spout of good reviews for graphic novels worldwide shows that the world is ready to accept that comics can be literature too.
Wednesday, 29 September 2010
The first thing that strikes me about Edward Ross's and Jamie Hall's lusciously produced mini comic Parasites is the cover. Drawn by Rachel Morris (along with the back cover scientific diagram) the cover is slightly psychedelic and evokes old B-movies and sci-fi, with the outline of a parasite lurking menacingly in the background like some alien creature ready to strike. But the whole point of this comic is that parasites and parasitic diseases are not things of fiction and bad 50's B-movies, but are very much real especially to the large numbers of our population living in underdeveloped countries and tropical climates. This comic then manages to be both an educational aide (I can easily imagine it being used in GCSE science classrooms) and a humanitarian effort. It isn't preachy, it doesn't ask us for our money, but it does cause us to think and highlights a simple injustice in the world (the business drive behind creating and distributing medicine). This very short comic was written by a friend of the artist Jamie Hall who wanted to raise awareness of the research that was being done by Wellcome Trust Centre for Molecular Parasitology in Glasgow. It was promoted during the Glasgow West End Festival using a giant trypanosome float in the festival parade (which would have been an arousing sight for all scientific types out there). The comic itself avoids a lot of the usual educational cartoon cliches such as parasites with evil faces and superhero doctors in favour of the actual voices and faces of those working for the Welcome Trust. There are of course comic style visual devices to make the comic visually appealing but these are kept to a minimum so not to distract us totally from the importance of the words. A rain of parasites over an African skyline and a parasite playing a game of jenga against a researcher are enough to symbolise certain struggles trying to fight these diseases. The language itself is too overcomplicated, of course it will certainly pass over young children's heads, but as I mentioned earlier, a GCSE class should have little problem with this comic, and it does them a favour by not trying to patronise them either. I did notice however that a lot of the important words and phrases are highlighted in bold perhaps for impact or maybe to make them easier to read. As for the artwork, I'm sad to say that in this instance the artwork takes a backseat, not because it is bad (I have been looking at Edward Ross's preview for the next issue of Solipsistic Pop and it looks great) but perhaps because it is here to serve a purpose. In medical comics that are more about personal experience rather than reciting facts and trying to gain support, the artwork becomes more a part of the experience itself, reflecting it, distorting it, symbolising it (two obvious examples of this would be David B's Epileptic and Frank Stack's art for Harvey Pekar's Our Cancer Year). Of course I am not saying that reciting facts is a bad thing, I do feel that the more personal approach can be superior because it encourages empathy from the reader but in this instance I think the ultimate achievement is perhaps the subtle humanitarian aspect that I discussed later. One of the researchers voices the fact the work they do is 'interesting and important even if it's not financially profitable' we get the whole point neatly summed up. Medicines shouldn't be about profit, it should be about saving people's lives. This comic is free because it is funded by the Welcome Trust. They want this information to be free, they don't expect anything in return (I better be careful or I'll get all Karl Marx/hippy commune).
To summarise: I've always thought that comics have great educational potential and it's great to see (especially with the rise of Graphic Medicine) that the world of health care is really catching on. As this is one the first (to my knowledge) comic books of non-fiction produced by a medical professional and an artist I can only hope for more like this in the future.
If you would like a copy you can email Edward Ross at email@example.com and for more information on the project got to Edward Ross's blog here or the Wellcome Trust here.
Tuesday, 28 September 2010
I picked this up from Orbital Comics in London for a measly £2.50. Illustrated by Jim Smith, this is a comic book off shoot of the fantastically twisted animated series Ren and Stimpy. Named after Ren and Stimpy creator John Kricfalusi's own animation house, the comic mimics Kricfalusi's iconic style to the tee and features two of his lesser known (but equally hilarious) charecters George Liquor and Jimmy the Idiot Boy. The comic is short but sweet, big, colourful, and offensive, all of which make it appealing for children and adults alike. Kricfalusi with his Ren and Stimpy cartoons managed to combine his fanboy love and admiration for the classic animation of the Fleischer Brothers, Chuck Avery, and Disney(*1), with more than a hint of the grotesque and the out and out creepy. This resulted in many of the episodes of the show being banned (although thankfully these banned episodes are available on the DVD boxsets). I have to admit that I didn't get Ren and Stimpy when I was younger, I found it crude, and thought it was simply toilet humour and violence. It seems strange that my appreciation for it would be rekindled as an adult precisely when I'm not supposed to find those kind of things funny. But that is because I understand there is actually more to Ren and Stimpy than that: the hints at satire, and the mix match of 50's values and kitsch with a psychotic, unnerving, and surrealist edge made it unlike any other children's cartoon out there, and the shocking fact was that this cartoon was aimed at children. But children want violence and children want weirdness, and the very fact that the children were being given what they want back then must have been refreshing. But now that we live in an age where all our children's programmes are done in CG, and are all too glossy, shiny, happy, with annoying songs and voices, and overtly PC (*2), I know what kind of programme I'd rather my (imaginary) children were watching.
Anyway, I've noticed I've made a major digression there. The comic itself will make you laugh. The existence of the Idiot Boy in cartoons doesn't seem as possible in this day and age but the staggered punchline concerning him evading potential trouble at every turn simply because he's a 'cute little moron' is pleasant enough. The star of the strip however has to be George Liquor. His strip is written in classic Ren and Stimpy style with great back and forth dialouge between George and the Dirty Mouth Bass and a great tounge in cheek pay off at the end. Every panel is animated, you can hear the sound effects and the music, even sense the comic pauses, it reads just like the Ren and Stimpy show in your head. This neat little package is wrapped up with a great advertisement for Spumco toys in which 'the great nations' (of the USA and China) 'have temporarily buried their differences for the good of Spumco'. Check out Spumco.
(*1) Which you can see if you look at John K's Blog here.
(*2) There is obviously good 'safe' children's TV out there. Sesame Street is an obvious example of multi-culturalism that doesn't seem like it's trying to hard and benefits from Jim Henson and cool animation.
Friday, 17 September 2010
Unfortunately it's in Santa Carlita in California, but it's a nice idea.
Check out his art blog here.
Thursday, 16 September 2010
The connection between France and Japan is that France's love of comics meant that they embraced Manga with open arms meaning that France itself has a quite successful and extremely diverse Manga market. Perhaps because of the French's belief in comics as an art form, more niche forms of Manga such as adult/dramatic Manga, and avant-garde Manga are much more popular there. The French editor of this anthology, Frederic Boilet, fell in love with Japan so much that he moved there in 1993 and has been there ever since.
The first great thing about this anthology is that it gives you the chance to read a lot of work by artists (particularly the French ones) who it is usually very difficult, or very expensive, to get any of their work in English. I'm thinking of Fabrice Neaud who I've wanted to read ever since I glimpsed a snippet of his work in Ann Miller's Reading Bande Dessinee, Nicolas de Crecy, Francois Shuiten & Benoit Peeters, and Joann Sfar's journal comics.
Each artist is sent to a different host city (chosen at random by the French Institute in Japan) and asked to write a story about the area. This story can be fact or fiction and although a lot of the artists tend to stick to a personal travelogue approach we are also treated to history, myth, fantasy, and science-fiction along the way. As with the best anthologies there is a huge array of visual styles here. Perhaps the most traditionally 'Manga-like' artist (despite his adult themes) is Jiro Taniguchi, although elsewhere we do get to see manga's influence on the French artists, as in Aurelia Aurita's use of Manga style emotive iconography. Nicolas de Cercy's story is drawn in a style which manages to be frantic and scribbled yet at the same time clear, playfully explores the outlandish graphic design of Japanese products and presents us with a pretty satisfying twist to the story which will make you smile. Another highlight from the French quarter is Shuiten and Peeter's story-come-tourist brochure which showcases futuristic architecture, dizzying perspective, and a loving nod to the Japanese love of giant B movie insects. Out of the Japanese artists my favourite stories would have to be by Daisuke Igarashi who manages to combine fast paced action (being careful not to make his motion likes OTT like a lot of mainstream Manga artists) with unsettling surrealism, and alternative Manga golden boy Taiyo Matsumoto's(*1) traditional style folktale which evokes very early Manga and Eastern art while style maintaining his own idiosyncratic style. The use of single page panels also gives it the feel of a very Zen children's picture book.
It is Fabrice Neaud's entry to this anthology however that gives us the most scathing critique of Japanese culture. I read somewhere that Neud's journals are very clever because they manage to channel his personal experiences into a kind of mirror to society, his journal's although personal, are somehow political. In this entry it is Neaud's identity as a gay man that brings him to question the attitude towards homosexuality in the East. In his quest, the homosexual Asians are an invisible people, and although prejudice is not spoken of but it is clearly there. The topic of homosexuality comes up again briefly in Sfarr's journal entry when he sees what he thinks is an advert for a gay magazine in the Tokyo subway, only to find that it is in fact advertising porn manga for girls (apparently the gay male is a big female fantasy over there).
All in all this anthology is not just a reflection of the weird and wonderful Japan we hold up as alien to our own culture (love hotels, Harajuko girls, girl's underwear in vending machines) but of a very personal Japan to each artist. Do the artists in this anthology suffer from their own bouts of Orientalism or are they cynical and aware? I think capturing the excitement of being in a new culture and a new environment is an important thing and if an artist is successful in their storytelling we can feel this with them, and then later on their disappointments, their laughter, is also ours.
When I went to Tokyo three years ago I bought into the stereotype that Japanese people will often feign ignorance because they don't want to be asked questions by Westerners(*2), in this anthologies last story we meet a Japanese man who proves me wrong, warmly welcoming the French artist and showing him the sights, yet having a strange spirituality, an affinity with nature that gives this anthology a poignant and punchy end.
(*1) Author/artist of Go Go Monster, No 5, Blue Springs, and most famously Tekkon Kinkreet: Black and White
(*2) I since felt stupid, realising that most people on the tube in London don't exactly talk to one another.
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
In other Sfar related news, an animated adaptation of his graphic novel The Rabbi's Cat(*1) directed by him, is currently in post production, due for release in 2011.
And for some Serge/Bardot 'Comic Strip' action, click here.
One final link: the fantastic blog Draw Serge.
(*1) In which a Rabbi's cat swallows the family parrot and can suddenly talk as a result, insisting with his new found voice to be converted to Judaism.
I've never been a huge fan of William S Burroughs, finding his cut-up technique of writing a little irritating and overrated, however with the impending release of a once abandoned graphic novel collaboration between himself ,and the artist Malcolm McNeil, I may be forced to reevaluate.
Started in the 70's and originally appearing as a comic strip under the title The Unspeakable Mr Hart in English magazine Cyclops, Ah Pook Is Here, and after seven years of struggles(*1) they finally got the book published in 1979. The idea of a book lenght comic strip, predating Eisner's invention of the term 'graphic novel' (with what is argued(*2) is the first graphic novel, A Contract With God) was a daring move.
It is Fantagraphics Books that will be releasing a restored edition in the summer of 2011. It will be released as a two part book the second part being the artist's own memoir of his working relationship with Burroughs.
Whether or not the text will make me see Burroughs in a different light remains to be seen(*2). However one thing can be said for him is that he certainly has an eye for artistic talent, his only other comics based project that never came to fruition was a science-fiction strip for the dream anthology that never was, Someday funnies(*3)
I can only image how much of a visual delight the full colour reprint of this is going to be just from the samples available on McNeil's website. Luscious horizontal panels of landscapes, stretching out and evolving into surreal masterpieces, reminiscent of Dali, classical religious artwork, William Blake, and Escher. Other sections of the book , which resemble more closely the comic book format, are sketched out in pencil and are atmospheric and brooding and taking a leaf from Will Eisner's book, make great use of negative spaces and well thought out panel composition.
If the samples presented to you here are not enough to keep you satisfied until the books release, then you always check out McNeil's site here and also a creepy slightly Tim Burtonesque(*4) short animation based on the Burrough's text (and voiced by the man himself) directed by Philip Hunt
(*1) Their original publisher closed
(*2) Although there are other contenders for that crown, Milt Gross's He Done Her Wrong and the early woodcut novels of Lynd Ward and Frans Masereel (although all these are wordless).
(*2) Judging by the plot (the usual paranoid conspiracy theory about the media/government with some sci-fi elements) I doubt it.
(*3) Which was to feature legends of the comics world as well as the non-comics world, including Steadman, Fellini, Dali, Tom Wolfe, and even Germaine Greer.