Comics and Graphic Novel/Memoir Round-Up

November 9, 2015 |

When I began working in libraries, comics and graphic novels puzzled me to no end. I didn’t know what to get or how to stay on top of things, and even more challenging for me was not understanding why I could or could not acquire certain titles. It wasn’t until I took a continuing education class in comics and graphic novels for the library, offered through the University of Wisconsin’s LIS program, that it all made sense to me. I’d always been a casual reader, but I’d primarily read graphic memoirs; being forced to read beyond that really helped me learn that there’s a lot out there that’s totally up my alley, and it taught me the most basic and most crucial component about comics: there’s a difference between single issues and trades. For comics readers, this is a no brainer. But for those who aren’t, it’s this little clarification that makes the entire process of finding, acquiring, and reading comics so much easier.

I tend to read comics in trade format. This means multiple issues of a comic are bound together into a larger, more study edition. These are the ones you can find in most standard chain bookstores. Not everything ends up in trade, and trades come out after a run of singles are out. Single issues are, as the term suggests, one-off issues. These are released on a schedule, and they’re just one installment of a larger comic story arc. Think of it sort of like a serialized novel in a magazine. Single issues are flimsy and really not great for library purchasing, as they tend to be made of even cheaper, less durable material than a standard magazine is.

Besides wanting to make that distinction for anyone approaching comics without the familiarity, I thought it worthwhile because this post is a round-up of my recent comic reads. Most of what I read, again, are in the trade format; however, a couple weeks ago I picked up a single issue of a brand new comic and loved it to bits and pieces — enough that I’ll keep buying it in single issues to stay with the story as it progresses. It’s kind of fun to have that anticipation.

All of these comics are fine for teens. Some are more graphic/violent than others, but they’ll all have teen appeal in some capacity. More, and the thing that excites me most about my recent comic binge, is that they all feature fantastically drawn female characters (and yes, I mean drawn in all senses of the word there).

Trade

Lady Killer by Joelle Jones and Jamie S. Rich

This one is going to appeal to readers who love noir and who are totally all-in on a story about a woman who murders for hire. It’s completely compelling and engaging and a big reason is because it messes with what we think about when it comes to hitmen.

But more — and the thing that made this particular comic really work for me — was that it’s stylized in a very vintage manner. The cover image is pretty perfectly representative of the comic as a whole. Josie is a housewife and a mother, and her job doing the dirty work for others is unknown to her family. She looks one way but the actions tell a completely different story, and it’s this tension of image and perception against reality that make this unique and a lot of fun.

I have a hard time finding dark comedy in my reading that works for me, but Lady Killer absolutely killed it. Josie is unapologetically violent woman who is “just doing her job” during a time when that was totally unacceptable. And realistically? It’s still totally unacceptable, so the social commentary on gender roles here resonates strong. I’m eagerly awaiting more in this story because there’s so much here to juice. You can check out some of the panels here.

You need no backstory, set-up, or history to jump into this comic. It’s brand new, and this first trade will get you into it right away.

Black Widow #1 by Nathan Edmondson and Phil Noto

I’ve actually got all three of the Black Widow trades on my shelf, but I’ve only had an opportunity to read the first one. It was far from disappointing, and it was absolutely worth the effort it took to find — for some reason, snagging the first trade of this one was a challenge, as it was sold out everywhere for a long time.

Natasha Romanov, aka Black Widow, for those who don’t know, is a member of The Avengers, and more, she’s a former KGB assassin who is out to seek atonement for it. Readers who have zero knowledge of The Avengers, Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., or Black Widow can absolutely jump in on this first trade to get the entire story. You’ll get the arc immediately, and you’ll find out the history and the current space of Black Widow right here.

What’s really great about the first trade is that it’s entirely about Natasha. She’s not sharing the spotlight with any other people at this point. It’s violent, it’s rough, and we’re immediately thrown into her unstable world and learn why it is she lives with her fists raised.

The story is compelling and really a solid superhero to start with for the uninitiated, but what really sings in this is the art. It’s gorgeous — Noto does a spectacular job using the pages, of using color, and of rendering the heroine here on her own strong terms. So many people have trouble with the idea of “strong female character” as a descriptor, but Nato creates that in his art. In a culture that continues to erase or “forget” about the female characters in superheroland, it’s refreshing to see Black Widow standing here on her own and doing so powerfully. I’m excited to see her story continue, which is why I bought the next two trades immediately after finishing this. I never thought I’d be interested in a superhero movie, but when a Black Widow film happens, I will absolutely want to see it because her story is so fascinating.

Single

Paper Girls #1 by Brian K. Vaughan, Cliff Chiang, and Matt Wilson

One issue of this was not enough. I’m chomping at the bit for #2 because this introduction to a new story of rad newspaper delivery girls in the 1980s hooked me immediately and ended in a wonderful cliffhanger.

The night after Halloween, a group of 12-year-old newspaper girls discover what appears to be a machine created in honor of the 50th anniversary of War of the Worlds. This is the cliffhanger, but the big takeaway from the comic isn’t just the fact it’s a compelling hook, but it’s wildly feminist. There are instances of hateful language used, but it’s called out and expressed as inappropriate, and more, the girls are there working side by side in their delivery.

The dialog in this issue works, as the girls all sound like teenagers. We don’t get a terrible amount of development, but that’s because this is still the first issue, so there’s a lot of room for growth. I think that’s what makes this a really promising new series — Vaughan sets up a lot of space for these girls and their arcs to grow and mold, but we know, too, that they’re going to be smart but not too-smart-for-12-year-old-girls, which is a thing I find distracting and inauthentic in stories.

The art is, as the cover shows, a lot of fun. It’s definitely stylized and it’s definitely 80s-tastic, but that’s part of the appeal. And the references and allusions are a blast:

I’m ready for issue #2, which will hit comic stores later this month.

Graphic Memoir

A Year Without Mom by Dasha Tokstikova

Rounding out this round-up of recent comics reads is a graphic memoir that I didn’t necessarily love, but that I see the appeal and interest for.

It’s the early 1990s in Russia, during the Cold War, and Dasha’s mother decides that in order to better herself and her own education, she needs to leave Russia for America for a year. Dasha is living with her grandmother during this time, and we see what a year in this very specific time and place look like for her as a young girl.

There’s friendship squabbles, crushes, tension with family, and then, of course, the Russian politics of the early 90s. It’s very relatable, which I think is the key selling point of this particular memoir — while we know that there’s a lot of historical baggage (which is underexplored here, in part because it’s from the perspective of Dasha’s 12-year-old self and in part because there “grounding” in this book is about a year without mom, not the year without mom while the government is unstable), the take away is that Dasha’s life isn’t dissimilar from any other 12-year-old in the world. She’s on that precipice of being a child and being a teenager, and it’s the absence of her mother that causes her more challenges than normal. I really wish we’d gotten more of the political climate here, though, because I’m not as familiar with this time and place as I’d like to be, and I suspect this will hold even more true for today’s tween readers.

More, though, I found some of the choices in design on this completely frustrating — why would you lay black text on gray coloring? It’s easy to overlook and miss and it’s even more challenging to read. I’m also curious why so many reviews don’t point this out. It’s a flaw, not a feature. I think the lack of color use in this memoir is effective, particularly for capturing place, setting, and mood, but the choices in layout were not reader friendly, especially for anyone who may be less familiar with reading graphic stories. There’s not an immersive experience to be had here.

This slice-of-life graphic memoir is worth a read, though it’s one you don’t have to buy or own because the challenges don’t make it entirely stand out. I do think it’s interesting that it’s another title set during the Cold War in Russia, a trend that’s popped up a few times in recent YA. I think it speaks to the authors more than it might to today’s teen readers, if only because the understanding of what growing up with that climate means might be a bit lost on them.

Little Robot by Ben Hatke

September 10, 2015 |

We’re taking part in the blog tour for Ben Hatke’s brand new graphic novel for kids, Little Robot. You can see the full schedule here and you should visit all of the sites to check out what they have to say about this delightful read.

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Ben Hatke’s Little Robot is a near-wordless graphic novel suitable for upper elementary, middle grade, and older readers — and more than that, it’s a sweet story about friendship, about girls who do and make things, and about how it’s not always a bad thing to be different. It is a feminist graphic novel for even the youngest of readers.

Our main character is a young black girl, and while she’s unnamed, we know a lot about her. She lives in a poor area, in a trailer home, and she often feels left out by her peers and siblings. During the time other kids are at school, she prefers to sneak through the fence to one of the neighborhood backyards and swing on their swing set. This is an activity that seems to be noticed by the homeowner, but it’s not something he shoos her away from.

One day, though, the main character decides to go on an adventure. When she wanders down to the dump to wander around through the broken and abandoned pieces of other people’s lives, she sees a box floating in the nearby creek. Upon further investigation, she discovers it’s not just a box; inside is a robot.

Using her skills, she builds the robot into a complete creature, and they quickly become close friends.

It becomes apparent quickly, though, that something is odd about the robot being discovered. As readers, we’re privy to it because we’ve seen the beginning of the book, but neither the young girl nor the robot know. The robot had fallen off a truck heading to a plant where he’d be shipped elsewhere, and now, machines are out on the hunt to recover the lost robot. When the robot is discovered and his return to the warehouse seems inevitable, can the little girl use her strengths to keep her friend near her? Or will she lose him?

Little Robot, being as light on text as it is, relies on story telling through its pictures, and those pictures are, without question, the stars of the book. Each little detail is carefully drawn, and emotions and thoughts are depicted clearly through slight changes in character faces, stances, and actions. This is true of both the girl and the robot, and seeing how they interact with one another is sweet without being saccharine or cloying:

But what really makes this graphic novel resonate is the way that the main character is a girl who loves science and technology. She’s clever and she’s industrious, with no fear of trying new things, even if they don’t always work out the way she hopes. There’s curiosity and interest in trying and in making, and seeing that played out in such a fearless manner is memorable. More, that it’s a black girl who isn’t from the best of circumstances makes it even more powerful — STEM is for anyone who wants to explore science and tech, and Hatke does a major service in showing this through his story. Girls will see someone like them tinkering and toying and having fun with it. The gleeful expression in the very last panel above says it all.

Graphic novels like this are so enjoyable to read, and Little Robot is no exception. In many ways, this reminded me of Sara Varon’s work, particularly Robot Dreams. It’s smart, charming, funny, and full of heart without shying away from tackling some big complex issues on a level that young readers just “get.” This is a must-purchase for libraries and school classrooms, though because it’s by Ben Hatke, I probably don’t even need to say that.

Long Weekend Reading Part 2: Princeless

September 9, 2015 |

After finishing up Lumberjanes this weekend (and being very sad I didn’t have more to read immediately), I started on Princeless by Jeremy Whitley and M. Goodwin. This comic ticks so many of my boxes: fairy tale re-telling, a smart girl who can fight, a little big of magic, plenty of snark.

The protagonist of Princeless is Adrienne, a princess whose parents (the king and queen) have imprisoned her in a tower guarded by a dragon. It’s a tradition in their kingdom; the idea is that only the bravest, best (male) warrior will be able to defeat the dragon and rescue the princess, thereby earning the right to be the next king (women and girls cannot rule in their own right, of course). Adrienne learns of this tradition in a very Disney-fied way when she’s a little girl, and there’s some awesome snark where she just rails against this terrible story, begging her mother not to lock her up like that. But of course, that’s how it goes for her. At least at first.

Adrienne doesn’t put up with it for long. She’s formed a bond with her dragon, who has eaten many would-be dragon-slayers over the months (years?) she’s been in the tower. And when Adrienne decides enough is enough, the dragon – Sparky – helps her stage her own death so she can go rescue her sisters, who are similarly locked up in towers.

I love how Princeless plays with fairy tale tropes, mocking them in a loving sort of way. There’s one awesome scene where Adrienne decides to stop by a shop to get some armor that fits her (she had previously cobbled a set together from the dead knights’ leftovers). The female armor offered has names like the Diana, and it’s as impractical as the name would suggest. Of course, Adrienne is able to convince the smith (another girl who becomes her friend and adventures with her) that armor for women and girls doesn’t have to differ that much from armor for men and boys. It’s a perfect scene, great for the comic’s intended age group of middle grade readers.

One of the most important aspects of Princeless is that Adrienne is black. It’s really, really rare to find a black princess in a fairy tale story, particularly one so uber-white as Rapunzel. Whitley and Goodwin call attention to this, too, in an early part of the story, when one of Adrienne’s would-be rescuers refers to her as “fair,” as many fairy-tale knights do in other tales. “Be you a moron?” she says to him. “Do you know what fair means? You’re so anxious to take a wife! Why don’t you take a book first?”

I was reminded strongly of Shannon Hale and Dean Hale’s Rapunzel’s Revenge while reading this, as both focus on a re-telling of Rapunzel where the princess uses her own ingenuity to rescue herself. They’re natural readalikes for each other, though they’re not quite the same in tone, and the story post-escape plays out much differently. There’s also a strong Dealing With Dragons feel to it. I’m not sure how much today’s kids are still reading that series, but the relationship between Adrienne and Sparky is similar to that between Cimorene and her dragon. I have a feeling Cimorene and Adrienne would be great friends.

The art is great, perfectly friendly for a middle grade audience with character expressions full of personality. I’ve only read the first volume, which collects issues 1-4, but there’s a second one out that collects 5-8, plus a handful of other stories. Highly recommended.

Long weekend reading part 1: Lumberjanes

September 8, 2015 |

Long weekends are for reading comics about girls who go on adventures. Or at least, that’s how my Labor Day weekend shaped up. First up was Lumberjanes, which I’d actually tried to purchase from two different comic book stores on two separate occasions and failed both times, as they had run out. Luckily, my library has all of the digital singles.

I’m a little late to the party on the Lumberjanes love, but if you’re like me and haven’t read it yet, here’s the gist: a group of five girls (they all seem to be around 12) are rooming in the same cabin at a camp similar to a Girl Scout camp. It’s a camp for “hard-core lady-types,” aka the Lumberjanes. They get caught up in a series of adventures involving a woman who turns into a bear, foxes who disappear, a secret underground cave, and lots of other fun magic. They also do the normal camp stuff like play capture the flag and make friendship bracelets.

The premise on its own sounds fun (and it is), but what makes this comic special is the humor, most of which is derived from the really great friendships between the girls. This is the first comic I’ve read where it feels like making the reader laugh is one of the main goals, not just a secondary one. And it succeeds really well – I was chuckling aloud to myself the entire time. This is actually a swear-free comic, so the girls say things like “What the junk!” and “What the Phillis Wheatley were you thinking?” instead. They earn badges like “naval gauging” and “everything under the sum” (a math-related badge). And the girls are awesome friends. One of their catchphrases is “Friendship to the max!” which serves as a sort of battle cry as they head into their next adventure. Their friendship is important to each other and it’s clear they care deeply for each other. I feel like they could be the pre-teen versions of the Rat Queens in some ways. And each girl is distinct in personality as well as look (including skin tone).

As a girl who went to Girl Scout summer camp a few times growing up, I appreciate the clever ways Noelle Stevenson, Grace Ellis, and Brooke Allen work with the tropes of such a camp. I can say that I probably would have had a much better time if we fought raptors and solved anagrams in underground caves guarded by animated statues, but then it probably also would have been shut down pretty quickly. (One of the main points of humor in the story is the girls’ hapless counselor who can’t keep her wayward campers from getting into scrapes or make the boss lady understand there are really weird things going on). There’s an overarching storyline – what exactly is going on at the camp? – which provides the impetus to keep reading, but really, I’d read it even if each issue were a totally different story. This is definitely a winner (literally, too, since it’s won two Eisners). One of those Eisners was for best publication for teens, but I’d say this is totally appropriate for and appealing to middle grade readers as well. Highly recommended.

Prison Island by Colleen Frakes

September 1, 2015 |

One of my favorite kinds of nonfiction is the graphic memoir. Absorbing the author’s art alongside the text gives me insight into the author’s experiences that I wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. I get to see how they picture themselves and the world around them, and how they interpret their own experiences in a visual way. I’m not a hugely visual person, but I really like this format – it’s great for the nonfiction reluctant reader in me.

In Prison Island, Colleen Frakes writes about her experience growing up on McNeil Island, located off the coast of Washington state. It was the United States’ last prison island, accessible only by sea or air. Her memoir is told in two different times: one during her family’s time there when she was a middle schooler, and the other when they all return as adults to say goodbye to the island as it is officially shut down. The scenes from the past, therefore, become reflections, musings on her unusual childhood, and the tone is best suited for adults or older teens (though there’s nothing objectionable about it for a middle school audience).

The premise was really interesting to me, not the least because I lived and worked for four years in a prison town in Texas (though I could drive in and out whenever I pleased). There were a lot of similarities. The adults who lived on the island were all employed by the prison; in my case, the prisons were the biggest employer and the main driver of the economy. You also just got used to having prisoners around, as did Frakes and her family. They didn’t always stay in the prison – and I don’t mean escapes (though Frakes does relate one story about an escape). One of my favorite stories to tell people about living in Huntsville was that the city got trustee prisoners to help us move boxes into a new wing of the public library. Each of us had a couple of prisoners we supervised, and the city got cheap (or free, as far as I know) labor. This concept was new to me and it’s new to almost everyone I share it with who isn’t acquainted with the prison system. As the name indicates, these trustee prisoners were the more trustworthy of the inmates – but they were also the ones who had the easiest time escaping if they tried.

Of course, the fact that Frakes lived on a prison island made her situation much different from mine in important ways. Just the fact that it was an island made it a tricky thing to get certain supplies we take for granted on the mainland – like a fresh pizza. Everyone on McNeil Island was associated with the prison in some way, and it was pretty sparsely populated as a result. The kids had to go off-island for school. There would be a telephone call made to everyone when it was suspected a prisoner was escaping or a riot occurring, and everyone was forced to stay inside, which happened frequently (false alarms, many of them). Such things never happened while I was in Huntsville (and as far as I know, there isn’t a system in place for warning anyone anyway, aside from the news).

I wish a bit more time had been spent on the past than on the reminiscing from the present. Frakes and her family take a tour of the island, hitting all spots they remember, and these aren’t the most riveting sections. Overall, the memoir feels a bit slight. Perhaps I was imprinting some of my own expectations onto the book – that it would be a little weirder, or a little more exciting (though I’m sure to Frakes it was weird enough). Still, it’s an interesting look into a pretty unique childhood, and it’s definitely worth a read for fans of graphic memoirs. The orange cover is a nice touch, too – though in Huntsville, all the prisoners wore white.

Finished copy provided by the publisher. Prison Island is available today.