Illustrated Review: The Butcher's Wife-Li Ang

(originally intended for a zine but the list of contributors was full)

The Butcher’s Wife-Li Ang

This short sharp novel has been reclaimed as a classic piece of feminist literature but its scope goes well beyond showing up the abuses of patriarchy. Based loosely on an actual newspaper report that the author had read, it imagines the truth behind the general assumption that the only thing that would drive a woman to murder he husband in rural Taiwan would be adultery on her part.

However Li Ang is careful not to cast the abusive husband as a complete two dimensional monster and instead examines the root causes of a society that would not only allow something like this to go on unchecked but would also consequently would put all the blame on the woman. Li Ang’s husband even has some, allbiet fleeting, sympathetic moments-whether recounting tales of hardship in his youth, or feeling momentary remorse for the surge of violent energy he all too often does not recognise. Although of course these are not presented as excuses but it does give an interesting insight into a way of life that cripples the vast majority.

The Butcher’s Wife is a tale of the dangers of superstition, and the desperate lenghts to which poverty will drive a person. The fact that the female protagonist’s feelings towards her husband are not always of horror is quite telling(*1). She has been through hard times and is at least grateful for the food being married to a pig-butcher brings, and even the much less frantic lifestyle and home life, and it is because of this that she quickly flicks from fear and upset to feeling self-satisfied and almost carefree.

A brilliantly layered story that paints a pretty vivid picture of rural life and mixes in some surreal and nightmarish horror in the vein of oriental ghost stories. Each of the stories settings are brought to life in all their stark duty, and the smells and tastes richly weave through to your senses. Finally the addition of the gossiping, judgmental, interfering and disingenuous Auntie Ah-Wang is an essential piece of the jigsaw, which shows that there is more than one guilty party in this tale. An essential read!

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(*1) It is only the violence of his sexual demands that she fears at first

The death of a British institution

The legendary British cartoonist/satirist/graphic artist Ronald Searle died peacefully in his sleep at his home in the south of France on december the 30th, aged 91. Only last year Searle gave his first TV interview in 35 years to celebrate his 90 years, an occasion marked by another British institution Steve Bell calling Searle 'our greatest living cartoonist'. Creator of the hell-raising belles of St Trinians (before it was given a god-awful modern makeover) and Molesworth, he has also done countless illustrations for the likes of Punch, The New Yorker, Life, Le Monde, etc.

Searle was simply following in the footsteps of the greats, like Hogarth and Gilray, and indeed produced his own legion of imitators over time, or at least people heavily influenced by him (Ralph Steadman and Gerald Scarfe to name just two). He could turn his hand to any subject, and most styles although there was always a frantic energy in his drawings, even with his most haughty-toighty of creations(*1). But he was also a fantastically skilled artist who continued to evolve, fusing his artistic sensibilities, flitting between playful inventiveness and abstraction to joyously wiry cartooning, to straight (not to mention frightening/moving) reportage using whatever primitive tools he had to hand. For Searle was also a survivor of a POW camp during World War II and worked on the infamous 'Railway of Death' project initiated by the Japanese, an attempt to construct a railway between Thailand and Burma which resulted in the death of 100,000 labourers, including 16,000 Allied Prisoners. All this is powerfully recorded through Searle's drawings which are collected together in the book 'To The Kwai and Back. War Drawings 1939-1945' You can imagine the kind of influence this probably had on Joe Sacco (who has already acknowledged his debt to another British great George Orwell by doing an adaptation of TheRoad To Wigan Pier, which sadly is only available as a bonus when you spend over a certain amount on the Fantagraphics website).

Searle's influence will continue to be felt throughout the world of cartooning, art, design, and animation, for the foreseeable future. He is a man who has truly left a mark.

There are many tributes floating around the web, but I recommend this blog for a fantastic array of of Searle's best artwork.

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(*1) Like Posy Simmonds, Nicolas Bentley, and Osbert Lancaster there was a particular upper-class Britishness to his drawings although Searle did it all with much less restraint and a cheerful sense of anarchy. It's also worth mentioning that Searle was one of those handful of artists who really understands the unusual relationship that British pet owners have with their pets. Searle's dogs and cats are among my favourite cartoon animals (next to B.Kliban's cats).

Comic classics: Blood

Kent William's and JM DeMatteis's Blood is a visual classic even if the plot is never quite fully involved or realised. The characters drift around on a sparse almost invisible plain weaving together fantastical and mythical elements that don't quite match. The plot outline if you ignore all the meandering diversions, is fairly basic, but the structure is slightly jerky in places and feels like it has deliberate gaps, which could add to the overall mystical and ethereal quality of the story.

Visually Williams belongs to the 'painterly' school of comic artists who take a fine art approach and spin it violently on its head: Bill Sienkiewicz, Dave McKean, Ashley Wood, Ben Templesmith, and Melinda Gebbie with her magnum opus Lost Girls all spring to mind. The majority of these artists acknowledge a debt to whole range of classic artists (Sienkiewicz evokes Klimt in Stray Toasters and Williams quotes Egon Schiele (both literally and through his brush strokes) in Blood). But they also owe a great deal to master illustrator Barren Storey whose illustrated journal experiments are great insight into the huge potential for the fine arts and comics collision (as well as the extensive use of collage and the endless borrowing/stealing from a whole range of other source materials be they high brow or low brow, you can read more on Storey here).

Blood also has a striking similarity to the look of a comic from the Vertigo line (the indie offshoot of DC) even down to the limited palette of colours (flesh tones, reds, earthy yellows browns and greens) and the lettering bears a striking resemblance to the lettering used in Stray Toasters(*1)

Williams is less about the collage effects and photoshop trickery of McKean, and the schizophrenic switches in style that Sienkiewicz employs so I guess out of all the artist he would be considered the closest to a 'classicist' with his use of ink and wash and controlled but by no means restrictive watercolours, his exploration of the two main characters bodies is at times like a life drawing class/anatomy lesson. There are however moments when his art is more scratchy and free to match the internal violence of the story, splashes of paint, thinner sketchier lines etc.

It's the frequent nudity of the two main character's that help to take this vampire story out of the cliched realm. There is an Adam and Eve, beginning of the world feel to it all, and although they appear much more evolved there is something slightly prehistoric, caveman like about it all (this is probably down to the sparse landscapes and indeed the caves).

Blood is a hybrid of multicultural myth and superstition: witch doctors, Indian gurus, fantastic lands with simplistic descriptive names, an element of Greek myth, a cloud of awe around the female maternal body, a primitive brooding force, a journey, all topped up with the strange floating figure in a space suit that is a typical Sienkiewicz style device(*2). The way in which he draws the imposing force of the other vampires seems like it could have been a big influence on the way Ben Templesmith came to draw his vampires in 30 Days Of Night (particularly in the way he draws their mouths/teeth).

Stray Toasters is very dark and darkly comic at that, whereas Blood (although not without its dark undertones) tries to add love to the vampire myth, love and resistance to the hunger, without all the horrible sparkling skin of Twilight. There is a brief moment too where Blood is jarred into the real world and becomes embroiled with everyday worries including jobs, relationships, and eventually cancer, and these concerns are written and drawn about in such a way that they seem not to be a mirror to the central action of the story but a metaphorical parallel. I guess mentioning Greek myths is fairly appropriate as the whole thing does read both in its visual and written elements like a Greek tragedy about vampires. Classical yet distinctly modern, Blood is a shining example of why an injection of the fine art approach in comics doesn't always mean that comic will be stifled and boring.

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(*1)Thanks to the magic of the internet I searched the letterer Gaspar Saladino and found out that he is a 50 year veteran of comic book lettering and his work for Dave McKean's Arkham Aslyum, Bill Sienkiewicz and Frank Miller's Elektra Assasian, and Sandman Mystery Theatre, has very much helped established the look of slightly off-kilter takes on the superhero genre.

(*2)Both Elektra Assassin and Stray Toasters feature incomplete half human half machine figures although in Blood this figure is not a threatening one but childlike and innocent.

Review: In The Night Kitchen-Maurice Sendak

Sendak gives more than a passing nod to Windsor McCay in this, the second book in his famous Wild Things trilogy. The first image on the opening page of this short but sweet tale is a heartfelt tribute to the familiar starting point of McCay's Little Nemo in Slumberland strip from the early 1900's (see below).

Rather than going with the usual picture book format here he has broken down the story into comic book panels which vary greatly in shape and size (although all are bigger than your average comic book panel). The only image that successfully escapes the rigid confines of the comics panel is a double page spread which perfectly follows on from a stuttered set of panels depicting Mickey's climb in the plane made out of dough, the succession of images occur in such a way, that when we are given the full view of the scene, it seems as if Mickey has literally broken the forth wall of the comics panel and come zooming out into the open.

The book tells the very simple story of Mickey who is rudely awakened in the night by the sound of The Night Kitchen. Falling into this kitchen (a beautifully coloured cityscape of kitchen utensils and condiments) he almost gets baked into a cake by three cheerful looking fat bakers, but escapes. Having ruined their cake he proceeds to help them make a new one before returning to bed. A pretty nonsense affair, but some of the best children's books are. My mum labelled this 'too weird' for my nephew (he is only two) so I staked a claim for it myself.

In comparison to Where The Wild Things Are Sendak's artwork is bolder and more cartoon like, the shading and colouring is less intense, and there is less of a feel of texture to the characters in this book. In other words the images are less like illustration and more a part of the story. Sendak is obviously a natural when it comes to the conventions of the humble comic book as his panels flow without the slightest hiccup, yet at the same time the wonderful over-sized lettering (especially when Mickey crows from on top of the milk bottle) remind us that this is indeed a children's book. The sing song rhythm of the words also mean that this will be perfect for reading aloud. A must have for children, or for your own inner child.
P.S There is an edition of this on the Internet that you can get which leaves out all of Sendak's colour work in order for your child to colour it in. This is the edition I intended to get for my nephew but because I bought it used, this wasn't the edition I got. D'oh.

P.S.S There is animated version of In The Night Kitchen as one of the DVD extras on the animated version of Where The Wild Things are. On of the animators responsible for this was none other than Gene Deitch, father of underground comix artist Kim Deitch famous for his work on Tom and Jerry amongst other things.

Comic Classics: Its Better With Your Shoes Off-Ann Cleveland

Anne Cleveland was a cartoonist working from the 1930's to the 1960's. She first started out drawing cartoons about college life (as she was at this time enrolled in Vassar College in New York), ESPECIALLY life for female students. She stayed on with the college art department after graduation where she met fellow graduate and future collaborator Jean Anderson. Although there are rumours that her work may have appeared in The New Yorker (her style suited the magazine perfectly at the time) the magazine itself has no records of this. Mainly she published a lot of cartoons about college life, as well as illustrations for The Ladies Home Journal and humorous home life type books (mainly in collaboration with other writers).
Her most famous book however, is one that I can now proudly say I own. Based on her own experiences living in Japan, It's better with your shoes off is a humorous look at the culture clash between East and West through the eyes of Mr and Mrs West (along with their two children). The title itself is a humorous nod to that most Japanese of rituals Rather than pandering to stereotypes, Cleveland spends as much time making fun of the Americans attempt to assimilate into Japanese life as she does making fun of the peculiarities of Japanese ritual and tradition. Her line work is beautiful, smooth, and almost resembles calligraphy in the way it flows. Most of the cartoons spare the details and instead work out a subtle humour for your pleasure, but when Cleveland gives us an expansive drawing the little details are everywhere. A personal favourite image of mine from the book is this double page spread of the traditional viewing of the cherry blossoms.

A lot of the images work in sequence, but not all are confined to the rigid conformity of the standard comics panel. The wordless images adds extra punch to the eventual punchline and the traditional gag cartoon format of caption over speech bubble adds to the sophisticated feel of the thing.
There are also some great dual images contrasting our perceived view of the East with the actual reality (the tourist brochure of the hot spring, and Mr Wests first geisha party).
Of course there is an element of nostalgia to the visual style of this book and also an extent to which the representations in the book have aged slightly. While not exactly showing a Japan of of the Edo period this books prompts the question: how much has the national character of Japan changed? Do they still hold on to their traditions so loyally? One of the few hints of a new Japan in this book is an image entitled 'cultural exchange' which shows the new face of the Japan, the youth. This was a post-war book put together at the beginnings of Japan's race to provide electronics and entertainment equipment to boost their economy, the race which has very much been won now. I wonder what a modern cartoonist would find on a similar cartoon journey of Japan? Certain aspects of this book are essentially timeless though, such as the guide to Japanese food for the uninitiated that she provides, and the 'shake or bow?' conundrum.
Despite the connotations in the title of this collection Cleveland does not lead us to believe that Eastern culture is better than Western culture or vice versa. She shows each to have their own unique pros and cons. Such a balanced view in a time when Japanmania was not yet in full swing (there's nothing more annoying than Gwen Staffani's 'Harajuku Girls'), makes this, along with the fantastic cartoons, an essential thing to own.

Comic Classics: The Passport-Saul Steinberg

Famous mostly for his work for The New Yorker Saul Steinberg is that rare breed of cartoonist who was accepted into the folds of the fine art world (see also George Herriman) due not only to the fact that his dabblings with abstraction were no doubt pleasing to the snobbery of the elite, but due to the fact that his highly individualistic and idiosyncratic line work was something to behold. At times painfully simple but always breathtaking, Steinberg turned a stamp or the act of a signature into something beautiful. He used collage to create busy schizophrenic yet subtlety humerus cityscapes and encounters from the little nuances of his party scenes, to simple optical illusions. It's all here in The Passport, a rare-ish collection of his drawings and collages that I first heard about through the excellent little 'Cartooning books of interest' guide by Seth available in issue 8 of Comic Art magazine. Finally owning a copy myself makes me extremely happy, and I probably get a bit too overexcited about the smell of the yellowing pages. The Passport is like a sketchbook with no dud drawings, a playful stream of consciousness that makes you smile. There is a wonderful childlike quality to some of his drawings while others remain solid and refined in their use of line. You can tell Steinberg is an artist, because he is good enough to make his visual approach primitive yet telling, rhythm and humour oozes from every squiggle. Obviously a big inspiration for the likes of Jules Feiffer, R.O Blechman, French cartoonist Sempe and countless artists of their ilk.
Due to the size and the delicacy of this book I have had to make do with pictures from the Internet rather than try and scan it and risk damage. (There are a few copies on Amazon, including a paperback one, but I am unsure of the price now).

Happy 75th Birthday Penguin!

75 years ago the publisher Allen Lane disappointed at the lack of options for reading material for his train journey decided to set up Penguin a company that have enjoyed a rich history of cutting edge publishing and design from the likes of Alan Aldridge and Peter Blake, as well as illustrations by Quentin Blake, Nicholas Bentley, and Paul Hogarth to name but a few. To celebrate this fact Penguin, in association with their archives at the University of Bristol have just ran a series of illustrated lectures about Penguins rich history of design, which sadly I only heard about on the day and sadly I was working in the evening. However, the university have also just released a load of old penguin books to be sold at the Oxfam Bookshop at the top of Park Street, including a rare original copy of Quartermass and The Pit which I couldn't quite part with £15 quid with in order for own. So as my way of celebrating their birthday I have scanned some my favourite covers from my meager collection(*1). Enjoy! (Click on the images to enlarge)

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(*1) The only book out of these I don't own is the Miles Van der Rohe book which I bought as a present for a friend.

Comic Classics: Cuba for Beginners-Rius

The book that kick started the For Beginners book series is a humorous cartoon history of Cuba by Mexican cartoonist Rius which is fiercely pro-Cuban and anti-American. Born in 1934 Rius (real name Eduardo del Río) is Mexico's most infamous political cartoonist, with a far-left viewpoint and a zest for activism . His two most famous comics Los Supermachos and Los agachados are humorous critiques of the Mexican government. In Cuba For Beginners Ruis uses a minimum of lines to create simple yet iconic imagery and despite their simplicity a cartoon by Ruis always stands out from the crowd. He comes across a bit like a Latin American Jules Feiffer at times with his playful use of stereotypes, rapid line work that somehow still manages to flow clearly and smoothly, and excellent comic timing and writing skills*(1). He also pastes in a rich history of editorial cartooning, art, advertising, and photographs surrounding the subject of Cuba for our viewing pleasure. Once again the power of comics to entertain and at the same time educate and inform is put to great use.



Ruis's work for the For Beginners book series continues with Lenin and Marx for Beginners.

For another classic of educational comics in this line see the 1976 Introduction to Chile (a cartoon history) by Chris Welch

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(*1) Where as nowadays most of the Introducing/For Beginners books are formed by a two person team of writer/researcher and illustrated, Ruis wrote this entire guide himself obviously being passionate and well informed on the subject.

Comic classics: Barefoot Gen-Keiji Nakazawa

If you have certain prejudices towards manga like I used to have this book should turn that all around. OK so a lot of manga is kiddie-fare dominated with big eyes and generic cutesy or ultra violent sleekness, and they do have an uncomfortable fixation with prepubescent girls and giant penis tentacles, but scratch under the surface and you'll find some works that manage to pull off subtlety and moments of almost cinematic brilliance. Barefoot Gen the majority of the times isn't one of those manga, but it still works. It is precisely the juxtaposition of Laurel and Hardyesque slapstick violence and general over the top gestures against the absolute senseless horror that is going on that makes this graphic novel so effecting. In fact I can say this is the only graphic novel that has caused quite a profound emotional response from me. The story is the autobiographical tale of the artists survival of the Hiroshima bombing, the events leading up to it, and the events that followed. Like most mangas this book was serialised into a multitude of volumes (I think ten in total) but it is the first volume concerning events leading up to, just after, and during the bombing which I am looking at here. The start of the book is mostly concerned with Keiji's families struggles to have enough food to survive, a struggle which is constantly made worse by their fellow Japanese. The reason for their families ill treatment is that their father is a pacifist and outspoken in his opposition to the war, which means that the family are marked as traitors and used as scapegoats by the local police force and opportunistic neighbours. The families eldest son goes off to join the navy to distance himself from his 'traitor' father but soon realises firsthand the madness and the base hypocrisies of war, and especially of the behaviour of those in roles of higher command. Throughout the book it is Keiji and his younger brothers good will love for their family and charitable nature (even though they themselves are so often without food) that adds a real warmth and humanity to this unique and compelling story. All of this makes the impact of the books ending all the more intense. After the bombing Keiji comments that the victims 'look like monsters' and is this exactly how they look. With skin dripping from their bodies and hollowed out eyes, they do look like something from early EC horror comics, thus cementing home the unbelievability and horror of this real life event. Keiji Nakazawa wrote this book as a strong and outspoken anti-war, and anti-nuclear weapon statement and in 1976 a group of Japanese and non-Japanese people formed Project Gen in order to translate his work around the world and spread its message. This book remains as powerful and relevant today as it was when it was first published.

For a great little article about how to get over your Mangaphobia click here.

Ahead of his time: The Big Yum Yum Book by R.Crumb

SPOILER ALERT


Written and drawn when Crumb was 19 and still a virgin, this early graphic novel shows something about Crumb which I feel is often overlooked about him in favour of his more controversial and sexual material, that is, his own disillusion with and critical distance from the very counterculture that embraced him. In the R.Crumb handbook Crumb talks about Janis Joplin advising him to grow his hair long and wear bell bottoms in order to get more women but Crumb stuck to his suit and fedora, his old records, and even his first encounter with LSD (although inspiring some of his most memorable and strange comics and characters) left him feeling slightly uncomfortable(*). And it is the amazing perception, cynicism and wit that he displays towards the counterculture (in the case of The Big Yum Yum Book the 50's beat generation) academia, religion, and the world of big money that surprises me here. For Crumb to display such an individual opinion at the age of 19 shows an amazing level of maturity.

Stripped down to its basic elements The Big Yum Yum Book is a modern take on the Jack and the beanstalk fairytale with a down on his luck toad cast as Jack and a plump rosy-cheeked Guntra as the giant. Crumb met his first love and first wife Dana during the book's completion and therefore she saw it as their love story, and was given the rights to it as part of their divorce settlement. It is sweeter and gentler than his later work and you can tell the young Crumb put a lot of himself into his protagonist. Lonely, frustrated, trying to find his place in the world, the only difference between Crumb and Oggie the toad is intellect.

He is sent to university by his father in the hope that he will one day join the management of his Mud Works. In order to try and fit in at university, Oggie tries to get in with the intellectual crowd, listening as they pour out bad Allen Ginsberg type poetry in coffee houses, attending political rallies with them, listening to their stories of worldly experience, attempting to create art, enhance his intellect, and make love to women, all in order to carve an identity for himself. However none of this works, and in this sense Oggie could be seen as being naive, but to me he possesses a kind of wisdom (a wisdom he himself is unaware of) that is more real, more pure than the pontificating of pretentious intellectuals and artists. The fact that Oggie doesn't fit in does nothing to discredit Oggie and in fact shows up the other charecters and the flags they fly as being superficial, meaningless facades-just a fashion like the 60's love generation would eventually become. In the end, after Oggie turning to drink in frustration kills the ladybug crones that inhabit his room, a giant beanstalk grows from their buried remains, taking Oggie with it to a paradise in the sky. And here he is finally happy, no one to tell him who to be or how to think, he enjoys good food, nature, beauty and solitude, and meets his love/his obsession
Guntra (who continually tries to eat him). In the end he returns to the city to find it cut off by the beanstalk and he is dragged to court where they sentence him for the city's fate. His friend Lampe the cat (the token pipe smoking intellectual) comes to the prison to offer his advice and in a brilliant summery of everything that is pointless about academia tells Oggie of his plans to write a study of the beanstalks effects on the morals of the city, speaking as if this one book, and the actions of the artists and the intellectuals, will be enough to save the city, and keep culture alive. In the end Guntra climbs down the beanstalk, throws it into the city and eats the entire cities population save for Oggie who she kisses, turning him human, and they both live a happy blissful 50's suburbia life.

Although the artwork is charming and cute (it is coloured with pencils and the publishers have been true to the original deciding not to patch up any areas where the colour has faded with age) it is the simple yet poignant message of the book that really does it for me.

The Big Yum Yum Book is Crumb at his best, and if you have ever been to university, are at university now, or met any self-proclaimed 'artists' it's probably a book to which you can relate.