koffka on comics

In discussing our ability to perceive emotions through the actions of others, Koffka (1935) references Mickey Mouse, alluding most likely to the animated films, but also obliquely perhaps the ability of comic strips to convey emotion:

The best examples for our argument are perhaps certain trick films after the pattern of Michey Mouse, for here there is objectively neither motion nor emotion, but a mere sequence of strange drawings. But this sequence gives rise to objects in the behavioral world of the observers which move, and are agile or clumsy, exuberant or dejected, and so forth. The merit of this example lies in the fact that here all these characters are only in the behavioral objects and entirely absent in the geographical ones. The "meanings" which those forms and motions possess for us are therefore most clearly aspects or results of the psychophysical organizations produced by the stimuli.

~ Kurt Koffka (1935) Principles of Gestalt Psychology

sublime sublimation

We all desire, but civilization requires sacrifice. It controls our most brutal aggressive and sexual instincts. Sublime sublimation. . . . Ads do not interrupt as they fill in the blanks. They fill the emptiness of our souls. Fundamentally we are empty. Nature abhors a vacuum. Civilization satisfies desires by inflating them. It's a trade-off. Society credits you life and security in exchange for repression.

. . .

Suddenly evolution makes sense. Protoplasmic capitalism. Protein currency. Amino acid exchange rates. Molecular surplus. Carnivorous conflict. Reptilian exploitation. Cold-blooded shopping. Paleolithic corporations. Cro-magnon capital. Neanderthal profits. Virile enterpreneurs.

Tom Kaczynski, Beta Testing the Apocalypse

the greatest comics you should be reading, but aren't

We're currently undergoing a bit of a renaissance in self-published / avant garde comics. The combination of the internet and the ease of desktop publishing has allowed small scale innovation to flourish.

We're at the same time at a bit of an all time low in the "mainstream" (i.e. "big 2" direct market) comics. The flow of information the internet allows has made it easy for readers to compare notes on the abundantly clear way in which comic content is driven by editorial rather than aesthetic decisions. This is bizarre actually, because it's made big 2 comics more like Hollywood, in the sense that a) repetition (read: third-rate mimicking) of past success and b) corporate second-guessing of the tastes of a demographic they are manifestly not themselves a part of drive content. This is especially strange because in Hollywood, the motivation for this behavior is the enormous amount of money at risk. Unlike movies, however, comics take very little money and very few participants to produce. So a strategy motivated by the economic structure of one medium seems to have bled into another with a totally different economic structure.

So, mainstream fans, who love i) superheroes, ii) action, and iii) clever exploitation have been left out to dry by their long time suppliers—yet, despite the abundance of other sources for comics, it's hard to tell which might appeal to that mainstream desire for fun exploitation and which will turn out to be too avant garde / weird / inaccessible for the mainstream fan.

So, here's a first pass at a list of comics that might fly under the radar of a mainstream fan, but are worth checking out if they're dissatisfied with the big 2, but want some kind of comic experience to satisfy that itch.

Some criteria I've attempted to satisfy:

1. Series must be ongoing - there must be at least the possibility of new volumes / issues appearing in the relatively near future.

2. Subject matter must be fun exploitation, in the sense of involving action, adventure, superheroes, but not also graphic weird sex and/or violence in too much excess (where we're setting the bar for "too much" here only a little lower than DC seems to find acceptable these days, but still significantly lower than many of the old school "underground comix").

3. Weirdness / "artsiness" must be low enough that one doesn't have to be excited about "use of form" or some other deconstructionist analysis in order to enjoy the comic.

Follow links from the titles if you want to hunt any of these down.

Self-Published:

1. Copra (Michel Fiffe)

A superhero comic modeled after the old Suicide Squad (back when it was good), but filled with non-stop psychedelic invention. This comic does everything the big 2 should be doing but aren't—suck Michel Fiffe's big fat dick, DC and Marvel!

2. Decadence Comics (various)

A "comic collective" with a flagship anthology and a bunch of miniseries and short comic collections. The key here is primary participants Lando and Stathis Tsemberlidis, who share an aesthetic commitment to cool Moebius-inspired, politically interesting, but also fun and compelling sci fi. Island 3 or Olympic Games by Lando are great places to start. Stathis' stuff may be a little too psychedelic to satisfy criterion 3, but if you have a high tolerance for psychedelia, check out MOA-192B. Warning = a lot of it's silent, but the images are great.

Small Publisher:

1. Dungeon Quest (Joe Daly / Fantagraphics)

South African Joe Daly's D&D-tribute / stoner adventure is amazingly drawn and super fun to read. Some of the humor is certainly on the weird side (you can't be down on pot smoking, for example, or tiny men who are horny in a "natural" way?) but none of the violence or sexual(?) imagery is anything like as offensive and mean spirited as what goes on in DC these days. bottom line - fun. Supposedly the next volume may be the last, but given the rate at which the series has been progressing, I find that hard to believe.

2. Cursed Pirate Girl (Jeremy Bastian / Archaia)

Beautiful, elaborate art; a fun Alice in Wonderland (with pirates!) story; clever and complex humor. This is ongoing, just incredibly slow (the first half took years, we'll see how long the second half takes).

European, waiting for translation:

1. Dungeon (Trondheim and Sfar / NBM)

I don't know what it is about this series. It's magical in the best kind of way. Maybe Bone is the closest comparison coming out of the US? Anthropomorphic monsters in a sprawling, multi-generational fantasy universe—there's something disney and cute, something dark and Game of Thrones, and something that's just pure fun about it. Just like Bone, Dungeon shows that excitement can be all ages, that it doesn't need to be "dark", that it doesn't need to involve weird sex and trashy behavior.

2. "Cities of the Fantastic" (Schuiten and Peeters / NBM)

So, this one's a bit of a stretch in several ways. It's a little less exploitation and more arty (although there are consistent stories in each issue, they do focus heavily on architecture as a central plot point). Also, although it's technically ongoing in the sense that new issues may (will?) appear, the current English language ones are all out of print, and there's no definitive promise of future translations (though NBM would be a likely source if there were). But these are beautiful, and very compelling in a "HItchcock presents" meets Salvador Dali kinda way. If you see anything in this series for a reasonable price, by all means pick it up. (Oh yeah, and I put the title in quotes since the translation is terrible—future post on that at some point.)

Honorable mention:

Night Business (Ben Marra / self published)

This one's a little too violent / sexually explicit to satisfy 2. On the other hand, it's super fun. Picture the best of the trashy 80s—King of New York meets Taxi Driver by way of Beat It. Marra's at the forefront of the new exploitation movement in self-published comics and Night Business has been his most consistent and wide-ranging title so far . . .though there are some worries about how it will all pan out. Anyway, issues 1 and 2 are supposedly out of print, but Marra showed up with some at a convention recently, so it's unclear how serious to take that. He claimed he was going to finish the story as a graphic novel (?). Bottom line: if you see 'em, grab 'em.

the masked avenger meets his match

moebius, rip

2008

2008

1992





2007

rock 'n roll maniac quiz

from Curio Cabinet #4

dutch book by dutch architect

Finally, a "Dutch book" style argument (against bulk discounts, no less) from an honest-to-God Dutchman, architect and cartoonist Joost Swarte. Finally available in English for the first time.

manga editorial techniques

[This is a response of sorts to musings by The League on the abysmal relationship between creators and editors in the US comic book industry.]

In the summer of 1997, I spent six weeks in Tokyo interning at the publisher Kodansha. For the second half of that period, I worked in the non-fiction translated straight-to-paperback department. In the first half, however, I spent each week interning at a different "Magajin," or manga magazine.

One of the most interesting of these was Weekly Shonen Magazine, or 週刊少年マガジン. "Shonen" here means something like "young men's" (literally = "few years"), and I believe the readership was largely young men ranging in age from 15 to 30 or so. This experience was interesting partly because, at the time, Weekly Shonen Magazine was the best selling manga publication in Japan, selling significantly over 2 million copies every single week. Each issue of the magazine was something like 300 pages long, comprising 20 page episodes in serials by a different creative teams.

That's right, contributors to Weekly Shonen Magazine generated 20 pages of a story every single week.

At the time, the chief editor for Weekly Shonen Magazine was Ishii-sensei (I believe, I hope my memory isn't going out on me here, but if anyone knows differently, please correct me). Ishii-sensei had previously edited Monthly Shonen Magazine, and his particular editorial style had succeed in pulling that magazine out of a long term slump and rocketing it to relative popularity. This success prompted his promotion to editor-in-chief-ship of Weekly Shonen Magazine, and it was under his direction that the magazine moved into the most popular slot, against its long time competitor, Weekly Shonen Jump.

Now, what was Ishii-sensei's strategy for extracting 20 pages of story each from a large number of creative teams such that the combined product would be read by millions of young men every single week? The answer is of interest in the context of the present state of US comics as it involved intrusive and overbearing editorial oversight.

Of course, I didn't see Ishii-sensei himself engage in this process, but I witnessed it multiple times by his underlings in various meetings with manga artists.

First, the basic schedule. My understanding is that scripts were worked out one week in advance, and I assume editorial intervention worked the same way during that stage of the process, although I never witnessed it. The artists received the script at the start of their week. Two days later, they met with the editor assigned to their story. On the basis of these meetings, they'd spend the next couple days finalizing pencils, then perhaps go through a final meeting before spending the rest of the week inking.

(Yes, these artists worked hard! I remember talking to one who worked at home, but still complained he never got to see his kids. Editorial meetings with artists might happen any time of day or night, as needed to meet the deadline.)

OK, so what happened in an initial meeting? The editorial intervention was complete and domineering. Change the shape of the panels on this page; show an event from this angle, not that one; give us more of this kind of feeling (usually: excitement, urgency, passion, whatever). No aspect of what the artist had done was immune to editorial intervention. The 20 pages generated at the end of that 2 week period (one for writing, the other for drawing) was very much a team effort, as much the product of the editors' tastes and vision as of the writer and illustrator.

So, why is this interesting? Well, as The League has pointed out, a similar kind of editorial interventionism has been having a disastrous effect on US comics. Titles have been killed, good ideas shelved, bad ideas promoted—all because the editors put their decisions about comic book writing / illustrating on a higher plane than that of the creators.

OK, so what was different in the Weekly Shonen Magazine case, as opposed to (oh, I don't know, say) the current state of DC comics?

Well, the answer is really very simple. One thing which was patently obvious from observing the editors under Ishii-sensei at Weekly Shonen Magazine is that they were all themselves ultra hardcore manga fans.

I mean, these guys were hardcore. If not ultra-otaku, then some kind of refined badass version of the comic fan, high on his power. Not because it was mere power, but because it was power over comics.

I remember, for example, one afternoon, I was traveling around with an editor, and we had an hour to kill before a meeting with an artist. What did we do? Stop at a nearby toy and model store, so he could browse through large scale robot / godzilla / ultraman models. Here, work and play coincided.

Another incident, an editor (much less otaku, more badass) meeting with an artist at midnight in a cafe, then talking to her for hours about the comic, pushing her to improve the art, layout, the "kanji," or "feeling," conveyed by every single page.

Do you think Dan DiDio spends his spare time buying Giant Robot toys? Does he meet with creators in the middle of the night for as long as it takes?

So, I think the difference here is attitude. Interest. Caring.

The interventionist editors for Weekly Shonen Magazine didn't intervene on the basis of some idea about what would sell, or imagination about what goes on in the mind of a teenager. They intervened on the basis of their own fandom, on the basis of what they wanted to read personally, themselves, for real.

This does not seem to be the case for some of the "Big Two" editorial horror stories we've heard in the US.

Not that I'm entirely in favor of interventionism—I'm in general very much a fan of creator control, and letting the idea man (or woman) follow his (or her) vision.

But I also think editorial oversight can be good. Editors can make a novel—or a comicbook!—better . . . so long as their feedback comes from the right place (genuine knowledge and caring) rather than mere fantasy and greed.

I1-3DB

New from Eye of Infinity!

. . . . I recommend downloading each page and the combining for ease of reading.

holy terror, batman!

Frank Miller's response to 9/11 was finally released this week. Originally conceived as a Batman tale, but repurposed to involve a generic Batman-like vigilante (the "Fixer") after DC nixed the ultra-violent spree of bigotry, hate, and inappropriate sex, the end result is still unmistakably Batman, albeit the Batman of Frank Miller.

Reviews so far have focused (perhaps unsurprisingly) on the objectionable political content. Muslims are portrayed without subtlety as evil terrorists; the heroes are devoid of character except for their righteous indignation and glee in slaughtering terrorists.

But "content," whether it be plot, character development, or political commentary is not the level of which this book was meant to work. Miller himself has described the project as "propaganda," but there is no pretense here to affect the views of the reader, to manipulate him into any particular view.

Rather, Holy Terror is a passionate rant, an explosion of pure emotion onto the page—in some cases, quite literally.

In the aftermath of the first wave.

The comic works on a purely visceral level; as much a cathartic purge for Miller as anything, the reader nevertheless feels the sweep of Miller's rage, even if he can't quite grasp its target. Of course, Miller's targeting Islamic terrorists, also terrorism in general, also (perhaps) something political? Cultural? Some pages filled with caricatures and random evocative images are clearly not narrative, just splatters of Miller's scattered thoughts.

What exactly is this supposed to mean?

Some reviewers have criticized the lack of characterization of the Fixer. Supposedly, since he isn't Batman, we need backstory, characterization, some reason to sympathize. Despite certain deliberately non-Batman moments (the Fixer uses guns, he explicitly says he suffered no childhood tragedy at the hands of crime), the Fixer is unmistakably Batman—not the Batman of lore and continuity, but Miller's Batman. Miller has earned the right to tell stories with that icon, and he clearly does so here, even after discarding the baggage the historical DC Batman has accumulated over the years as part of his mythos.

Miller's Batman was a Batman pushed to the breaking point, turning his frustration at the world into violence. Unabashedly taking justice into his own hands, a vigilante in the purest, truest sense—however ugly such a thing may be. Targeting fascists, he himself was also a fascist. Just the right fascist. This was the message already in Dark Knight Returns, and the Fixer is in many respects the logical extension of this idea.

"Jihad!" . . . "Gesundheit."

In Holy Terror, the climactic terror event, the proxy for 9/11 (after a sequence of nail bombs explode all over the city), occurs when terrorists fly an airplane into a large statue on the city's waterfront. Reviewers have commented on the obvious similarity with the Statue of Liberty, and one even claimed a simplistic liberty-oriented symbolism: "The terrorists somehow scramble fighter jets (several of them) to blow up a thinly veiled Statue of Liberty (because they hate us for our freedom)."

But this interpretation is bizarre. Although it obviously references the Statue of Liberty, Miller's statue is of Blind Justice. And this is no mistake, for liberty is not a virtue in Miller's world. It is not freedom, but justice which reigns supreme in the world of the vigilante, and it is the destruction of justice for which Miller faults the terrorists, not of liberty. Likewise, it is not even the defense of justice which motivates and explains the actions of the Fixer, but rather the realization of justice. It is just that the terrorists die, the consequences of the Fixer's actions to eliminate them and their collaborators beyond their deaths are simply irrelevant.

Oh, you're surprised / offended by this?

Who are we kidding here? How short is your memory?

Ultimately, Holy Terror suffers from many defects. Criticisms of plot and character are not at all misplaced. But the book works at the level of a rant, and it is a rant of beauty and passion. The art is indeed uneven and schizophrenic, but here again, every style has its moment. More importantly, the unevenness of the art strengthens the feeling of raw power. It's as if Miller is blinded by his own emotions, he can't even see straight while caricaturing Obama, or Michael Moore, or whoever those are supposed to be; he can't even put into words his response because it occurs at gut level. There is no reason, no rationality behind the response, just an intense feeling of injustice and a fantasy to respond and correct.

And in this sense, Holy Terror is more honest and true than many responses to 9/11. There's no pretense here, for better or worse. And let's not forget that Miller is still (at least) a profound talent with images. However chaotic the emotions, facile the story, or uneven the storytelling, Miller can still make the jaw drop with his neo-noir blasts of black and blood and light and shadow.

i mock verbatim

from Zap, no. 10

save batman: odyssey

Neal Adam's Batman: Odyssey is one of the most bizarre, surreal, hilarious, incomprehensible vomit-splatters of excess ever committed to the comic page. After running 6 issues, it disappeared from shelves, after revealing in issue 5 a plot twist that (contra the insanity of surrounding events) illustrated a (I thought) very clever insight into the nature of Batman.

[Spoiler? ~ the idea that Batman is being "distracted" (by "clowns" (Joker, Riddler, etc.) who "escape" (yeah right) on a regular basis from so-called Arkham Asylam) from some real, deeper (implication: non-clown) problem / conspiracy / evil.]

Why did the series disappear? It appears from dropped sales and (more specifically) a lack of solicits. Neal Adams himself put out a plea to fans to encourage their local stores to solicit the rest of the story. Help the cause! Don't you want to see the "neanderthals, evolved dinosaurs, magicians, war, death, gnomes, trolls and tests, the like of which Batman, the modern Ulysses has never faced in his life... all happening in a real underworld" ?

If you doubt, check out this extremely entertaining review / summary / homage.

the other side

Here.

on inception

Lucid dreams can sometimes produce the illusion of reality. A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984), for example, was based on a series of articles about young men who experienced terrifying dreams, refused to go to sleep, and later died in their sleep. For them, the terror of their dreams became so real it killed them.

More recently, Inception (2010) used a similar setup (entering the dreams of others) in order to explore the possibility of an idea being implanted in one's subconsciousness while one was asleep and dreaming (the "inception" of the title). In this more focused investigation, it is argued that dreams within dreams ("deeper levels" of dreaming) provide access to deeper levels of the subconscious, and thus facilitate the planting of a new idea.

I've experienced dreams within dreams on several occasions, and there are two features of the phenomenon which Inception certainly got right: 1. the dream within a dream tends to be more surreal / bizarre / "unrealistic"; 2. after waking from it, there is a feeling of reality, one has just woken up, which may then be subverted by further dream weirdness. This is a feature which has been exploited to great effect in a variety of places in popular culture—not just the aforementioned movies, but also genre pieces such as Neil Gaiman's Sandman (e.g. the character trapped in an eternal sequence of nightmare wakings at the end of issue #1).

But there is a weakness with the dream within dream approach to inception—if one does succeed in convincing oneself that one is awake, then whatever is remembered of the levels of dreaming that had occurred is judged a part of dream land.

Compare this with another phenomenon: dreaming about dreams. Suppose for example, one experiences a rather vivid and lucid dream, which closely adheres to an actual event, changing it in relatively small respects. Then suppose, as sometime happens, after brief awakening, one dreams a more surreal and bizarre dream, a subconscious response to the incidents of the earlier one. When one awakes from the second dream, the certainty that one is in fact awake, and that the preceding events were in fact dreamed, is not evidence against the reality of the previous dream (in the way it is when dreams are embedded). In fact, if the second dream was sufficiently vivid, one can become uncertain about whether the incidents which inspired it were produced by reality or a previous dream . . .

Of course, the effect depends crucially on the plausibility of the first dream. The essential point here is just that arbitrarily plausible embedded dreams receive an evidential refutation which arbitrarily plausible dream-inspiring dreams do not. Suggestion for a future inception technique?

bilal's evolving revolutionary

Finale to The Hunting Party (1983)

Enki Bilal is a comic book illustrator/writer and movie writer/director who was born in Yugoslavia in 1951 and emigrated to France at the age of nine.

Bilal's art and vision are magnificent, both on the page, and on celluloid, but a theme which runs throughout all his major works (including those he only illustrated) is the role of the revolutionary. It's natural to assume that the atmosphere in post WWII Belgrade influenced this trend, plus perhaps, and more personally, his own family's history (apparently, his father was once a tailer to Tito; more importantly, his father was Bosnian, while his mother was Czechoslovakian).

For whatever reason, the revolutionary, the anti-establishment anti-hero, has featured as a leading character in all of Bilal's significant works. The role of this character, however, has evolved over the course of Bilal's career: from hopeful successes, to temporary victories, to pessimistic post-heroes, doomed to relive the consequences of their revolution(ary act), without even the recollection of its motivation.

Anti-gravity town making trouble for authority figures in The Cruise of Lost Souls (1975)

The initial phase is clearly visible in Bilal's work with Pierre Christin, who wrote a trilogy of fanciful political commentaries for him, eventually collected as Townscapes. In each of these three stories, a mysterious stranger interferes in some bizarre way to bring about a surreal political statement, heartily endorsed by local disaffected townspeople. In the first two, Cruise of Lost Souls (1975) and The Ship of Stone (1976), there's a strong sense that change is achieved, if only on the local level.

With the third book in the trilogy, however, The Town that Didn't Exist (1977), a strange foreboding appears. The local factory has been shut down, and the workers protest for better wages and benefits. When the old man who owns the corporation dies, his crippled daughter inherits his wealth and his business. She employs her financial resources and political influence to construct a utopian dream city for the inhabitants of the old town—here they may do as they please without worries about finances or security.

Here, the progressive social goals of the trilogy's enigmatic protagonist appear to have been achieved, yet when he leaves the new city, he is joined by several of the former factory workers, one of whom proclaims "that town doesn't really exist." Interpretations abound here—is utopian success a dream? Is philanthropic behavior such as that of the daughter in principle impossible in capitalist society? Or is it the workers who are blind to what they can achieve, who doubt the validity of the Marxist utopia that could await them if only they found the right resources? The text is silent on interpretation, but the darkness and ambiguity of the ending casts a long shadow over the earlier stories.

Horus chats with Nikopol about godly matters.

Perhaps the most optimistic of Bilal's revolutionary stories can be found in the first volume of the Nikopol trilogy, his most famous work. The titular character, Alcide Nikopol, unlike almost any other Bilal hero, is not actually a full-fledged revolutionary, but a mere deserter, sentenced to life-long hibernation. When incompetence awakes him on a corrupt future earth, he is partnered with Horus, a "revolutionary" figure in the pantheon of Egyptian gods. Horus wields his supernatural powers to place Nikopol in political power over the Paris of 2023. A fascist dictatorship is overthrown, Nikopol is free to implement the progressive policies of his choice, and Horus abandons control of him for more godly matters.

Yet, despite La Foire aux immortels (1980) evincing the first instance of widespread political control and change achieved by a revolutionary (albeit a reluctant one), the atmosphere at end is far from optimistic. Nikopol goes mad and his son (who looks like his twin due to Nikopol's period of government mandated suspended animation) is placed in control in his stead. By volume 3, Froid Équateur (1982), just a few years later, we learn that Nikopol's son's progressive government has been overthrown by the fascists: revolution is short lived. And Horus himself, the revolutionary deity, is on the run throughout the entire trilogy, defeated multiple times by his peers. (Though in the final scenes of volume 3, after the Egyptian gods' pyramid-shaped space ship is accidentally destroyed, Horus' leadership is finally welcomed.)

Horus takes control.

During the decade+ it took to complete the Nikopol trilogy, Bilal collaborated again with Pierre Christin on The Black Order Brigade (1979) and The Hunting Party (1983) (collected as The Chaos Effect). Both books paint a much bleaker picture of the revolutionary than Bilal's earlier work with Christin. The Black Order Brigade, in particular, features the first introduction of a common theme in Bilal: the ex-revolutionary. Here, a group of passionate progressives who had fought in the Spanish civil war, reconvene in their old age to combat the titular "black order brigade," a fascist death squad with whom they had had many skirmishes during their glory days.

The "Black Order Brigade" assassinate a leftist politician before the eyes of our "heroes."

Unlike in the war itself, however, when the young progressives had been suffused with idealism and optimism, they find their new quest quickly sours. The pains of old age, the indifference of the general public, and the futility of correctly conveying their message (in the media, they are treated as terrorists, no different from their fascist counterparts) drag down their spirits and motivation. By the end, they succeed in eradicating the black order brigade, but at the cost of all lives but that of the original organizer and narrator. In the final panels, as he relates the conclusion to their saga, he mournfully proclaims "I . . . got all my friends killed for a reason I can't even really remember anymore."

Ironically, the mysterious traveling revolutionary of the earlier Bilal / Christin collaborations makes a brief appearance as an accomplice—sympathetic to the cause, but largely outside the specific plans and woes of our heroes. This war is not for him, and its Pyrrhic "victory" hints at the impossibility of radical social change. Idealists cannot succeed, and, more importantly, they cannot even maintain their idealism should they try.

Bilal appears to be obsessed with cobalt blue . . .

In The Black Brigade, ex-revolutionaries choose to resume their activities, with ambiguous, arguably disastrous, consequences. In Bilal's films, e.g. Tykho Moon (1996) and Immortal (2004), the lead characters are ex-revolutionaries forced back into revolutionary action. In the case of Tykho Moon, the title character is a former revolutionary suffering from complete amnesia. He recalls neither his revolutionary acts, nor why he engaged in them.

Nevertheless, Tykho is forced into transgressive acts anew by the bizarre lunar dictatorship of the Mac Bee family, whose degenerative disease demands organ transplants, and with whose genetic code Tykho is uniquely compatible. Although Tykho eventually succeeds in executing the last of the Mac Bees and escapes the moon with his love interest (herself a hired killer and former employee of the dictatorship), the motive is never revolutionary change, but mere survival. An actual revolutionary (from earth) who assists him is spurned on the the topic of political idealism and dies in the violence of the finale.

Another Bilal obsession: the Eiffel Tower, not only appearing here on the Mac Bee's moon (alongside some other faux monuments and the rocket launching pad), but also in Immortal's NYC!

In Tykho Moon, we see the personal details of life (survival, love, the chance to dance with a beautiful woman) overwhelm revolutionary priorities. One who simply lusts for a life to himself is forced into revolutionary action, and consequently, his actions are drained of idealism, and suffused instead with necessity. Obligation, unavoidable and personal. At the end, although the dictators are overthrown, we are given no promises about the future political situation on the moon. Our heroes do not aim at reform, merely survival.

Similar themes can be found in Immortal, Bilal's screen adaptation of his own Nikopol trilogy. Unlike the Nikopol of the comics (and much like Tykho Moon), the Nikopol of Immortal is an ex-revolutionary. He has been sentenced to 30 years imprisonment in suspended animation on a floating prison. A freak accident sets him free prematurely. The fascist NYC in which he finds himself is ruled by a "medical dictatorship," but his name survives as a rallying cry (the "spirit of Nikopol") amongst those who oppose the regime.

Jill learns about humans (since she's quickly becoming one) in the "Human Museum."

Just as in the books, a large chunk of plot is devoted to Horus' attempt to impregnate Jill via Nikopol. Just as in Tykho Moon, the very personal goals of love and survival motivate Nikopol's actions, and the execution of fascist dictators and general social upheaval which take place along the way are largely incidental. In Immortal, not only the whims of the fascist elite, but also those of the gods force Nikopol and Jill into a sequence of bizarre situations. No longer is the blame for the revolutionary's actions foisted solely upon the state—here fate, or at least its proxy, are equally, if not greater to blame.

Horus and Nikopol's first meeting—Nikopol's reciting Baudelaire (as usual), but how does Horus know the words?

So, while Bilal has continued to focus on the revolutionary as character throughout his career, we see a gradual evolution from the revolutionary as active instigator of social change to the revolutionary as accidental instigator of social change. The reluctant revolutionary is at first forced into this position by the very authority figures he eventually destabilizes, though later, it is fate, or forces beyond his control generally rather than merely political forces which motivate his actions.

Amir's lover tries to turn him on to their next mercenary assignment.

The most recent chapter in Bilal's evolving depiction of revolutionaries is the so-called "Hatzfeld tetralogy." Unfortunately, only the first two volumes are available in English (as The Beast Trilogy: Chapters 1&2), so the overall trajectory of the work is as yet unclear to those of us who are linguistically limited. So far, many similarities emerge with Bilal's earlier works. Just as in the Nikopol trilogy, the backstory is elaborate, involving various layers of authoritarianism and fascism. Religious dictatorships, terrorist NGOs, evil policemen, bizarre alien intrusions, all make an appearance, buffeting the world our characters inhabit.

Unlike in the works discussed above, the protagonists are not (yet) explicitly terrorists themselves, but rather mercenaries, scientists, and prodigies for hire to the various competing forces which shape their world. No longer is there an "evil" authoritarian power force, and a "progressive" outsider revolutionary, but rather a sequence of authoritarian forces with various religious and political motivations. There is no "right" side for the would be mercenary to choose, and given the trajectory of alienation from idealism we've seen in Bilal's previous works, it's perhaps unsurprising that the protagonists here do not begin with an ideology, but rather a skill set of interest to ideologues.

The Hatzfeld tetralogy draws more explicitly on Bilal's Yugoslavian heritage than any of his previous works. The story centers around a trio of "Yugoslavians" of different ethnic and religious backgrounds. Their origin is retold by the protagonist Nike Hatzfeld, who's gift is a complete photographic memory (contrast with Tykho's amnesia!) which dates back to his very first days of life, when he and Amir and Leyla (the other two Yugoslavian orphans) lie next to each other in a Sarajevo hospital as it is ripped apart by violence.

Shades of Nazi death camps (and the terror camps of the Yugoslav wars are mentioned explicitly in Nike's recollections).

The chaos of the future world inhabited by Nike, Amir, and Leyla somehow mirrors the violence of the dissolution of Yugoslavia. Bilal focuses on individuals buffeted by larger political and religious forces beyond their control. The revolutionary becomes an employee when there is no right or wrong, but only conflict.

[If we're lucky, the re-emergence of Humanoids as a North American publishing force will result in new editions of the Nikopol trilogy (now, sadly out of print and exorbitantly priced) and the Hatzfeld tetralogy.]

soulbook

Here.

rowlf

Richard Corben's Rowlf kicks some demon soldier ass to save his mistress

semantic "rhyming" slang

Cockney rhyming slang uses a phrase, or more cryptically the first word of a phrase, the last word of which rhymes with a target word, to stand in for that word. For example, "trouble and strife" for "wife" or, more tricky, "have a butcher's" for "have a look", since "butcher's hook" rhymes with "look."



Of course, understanding the intended referent depends crucially upon viewing the phrase as salient. If one doesn't think "hook" upon hearing "butcher's ___," it will be awfully difficult to conclude the intended meaning is "look." As such, cockney rhyming slang has inspired some awfully amusing parodies. For example, 1 min. in or so, Reginald Perrin's son begins using completely obscure and ridiculous rhyming slang:



including, for example "chitty chitty" for "rhyming slang" (since "chitty chitty bang bang" rhymes with "slang").

More recently, Stephen Fry has had his bourgeoise way with rhyming slang:



using, for example, "bulletproofs" for "guests" (from "bulletproof vest") and "Barney" for "double" (via "Barney Rubble").

Now, the difficult trick with rhyming slang is that the sound of the unspoken word is relevant for determining the meaning. But we can see a similar effect, when it is the meaning of an omitted word which gives a compound meaning. For example, consider the sequence "cyberpunk," "steampunk," and "icepunk." The foremost was coined by Bruce Bethke in 1983, and combines the terms "cybernetics" and "punk." The basic idea, of course, was a mixture of the information-flow, artificial intelligence, computer programming nerd priorities associated with the computer age (for some early sci-fi writers, cybernetics was synonymous with AI (e.g. Stanislaw Lem)) with the hip anarchic attitude of 80s punk rock.

But once the term caught the public imagination, "steampunk" was coined. Steampunk still assumes a technological acumen, but now focuses on counterfactual developments, including in particular the possibility that sophisticated technology might be developed with an alternate power source, such as steam. The funny thing here, of course, is that there's more of the "cyber" at issue than the "punk," even though the latter half of the term was preserved while the former dropped. "Cyberpunk" as a whole came to stand for hipster technology, and the "technology" part could be replaced with the word "steam," and yet the new compound could retain the technological connotation. As such, "steampunk" is a kind of semantic rhyming slang, depending upon the missing morpheme (cyber) to imbue it with the appropriate meaning.

But then we reach the back jacket of the recent (first English language) reprint of Jacques Tardi's The Arctic Marauder, which describes it as: "a vintage 'icepunk' graphic novel."

No, not "ice," nor even "steam," but electricity!

First, what might "icepunk" mean? And why the scare quotes? Certainly not because a preexisting word is being quoted; though it's almost as if Fantagraphics wishes to imply they're merely picking up the lingo of the "hip" kids. Except they aren't. And the meaning? Well, there's nothing "punk" in the sense of "hip" or "anarchic" about the story, at least not in an 80s kinda way. In fact, it's a deliberate homage to the sci-fi style of yesteryear, esp. Jules Verne. The story is set in 1899, and ostensibly features technology which barely supersedes that in theory possible during the late 19th century.

But, whereas "cyber" (the style of information flow idea) had previously been replaced with "steam" (power source for the technological device), now it is replaced with "ice" (merely stuff that's around for most of the story). The whole thing makes no literal sense; nor does it make strict analogical sense.

Instead, the sense depends upon semantic rhyming slang. Only someone familiar with the previous terms cyberpunk and steampunk could piece together then intended meaning (anarchic (in the 19th, not 20th cent., style) sci-fi (in the Verne, not Gibson, style)).


Of course, if you're into Verne, and beautiful art, and the 19th century style of anarchy, the story is awesome and highly recommended.

el gaucho

J. H. Williams III's El Gaucho

Morrison's run at DC has focussed on permuting the features of iconic characters through a sequence of confrontations with their doubles of various stripes. His All-Star Superman, for example, faces other strong men, bizarro Superman, a "Super" Louis Lane, Supermen from the future, from alternate universes, and even Lex Luthor as Superman. In his run on Batman, we saw Batman confront secret vigilante Batman replacements, Batman in the future, Batman junior, and, eventually, Batman 2: Robin. One of the most amusing sequences (667-9) features an international group of Batman variants, which Jog helpfully points out are distinguished by J. H. Williams III's imitation of various artistic styles. In particular, the Argentinian mirror of Batman, El Gaucho, is drawn in the style of Howard Chaykin.

Of course, he's not a direct copy of any particular Chaykin character, but his disguise does closely mirror that of the (very briefly mentioned in Midnight Men (1993)) El Sombra.

Howard Chaykin's El Sombra

More important than the costume, however, is the square jaw and Chaykin personality (i.e. kick ass and don't take shit from no one). Jog wonders if Yanick Paquette's art for Batman, Inc. could perform the same imitation. Although the style is not matched, the square jaw and epic attitude are certainly still there. Not the least of which reason being that El Gaucho (who's already saved Batman's life more than once) (i) immediately identifies Bruce Wayne as Batman (amusingly believing Batman to be impersonating Bruce Wayne) and (ii) turns down Batman's offer to join his international team (well, upon initial request, we'll see what happens next issue).

Yanick Paquette's El Gaucho—still badass

Of course, Chaykin's prone to strong Jewish heroes, frequently busting Nazi / fascist butt in one shape or another. But he's no stranger to the swarthy mustache / machismo of El Gaucho, that's for sure. For example, his recent run on Rawhide Kid: The Sensational Seven left ample opportunity for mustachioed macho, in both a variety of villains, and also "heroes" such as Wyatt and Morgan Earp:

Howard Chaykin's Earp brothers

[This frame appears after Morgan has violently induced Wyatt to vomit when told by their cellmate that Wyatt has been eating more than his fare share of the scorpions. In the previous frame, Morgan has counted the scorpion corpses in his brother's vomit, only to discover the accusations are true.]

J. H. Williams III's El Gaucho has a different attitude toward scorpions

Of course, badass as a Chaykin tribute in the pages of Batman is, we shouldn't forget that Chaykin is alive and well, even penciling his own occasional Batman outing (square jaw and attitude and all). Personal wet dream: Morrison scripted, Chaykin penciled, Batman / El Gaucho team up—now when will we get to see that?

johnny 23 ~ full "translation"

Charles Burns' has "remixed" his excellent recent book, X'ed Out, into a new story, Johnny 23. Johnny 23 is written in a monoalphabetic cipher of English, i.e. a single "alien" character has been used to replace each letter / number in the traditional English alphabet. Since we are given a crib (in the form of the title), deciphering the text is not too difficult, although there are a large number of "typos" which can slow the process a little.

The text is surreal and filled with non sequiturs. In X'ed Out, the main character Doug performs in a Tintin mask under the name "Johnny 23." His performance involves reading abstract surrealist poetry generated using William S. Burroughs' "cut-up" technique. Visually, Johnny 23 implements this technique with images, and many segments of the text seem to be similarly generated. There are however several moments where distinct pieces of a story connected closely to the visuals emerge.

Some of the apparent "misspellings" and "errors" are surely due to whatever mash up technique was used to generate the text. Many, however, are clearly typos of the form generated by quick typing (e.g. "teh" or "adn"). In the following "translation," I have chosen to correct as many of these as possible, and to add appropriate punctuation where obvious. In some cases, however, where apparent ungrammaticalities due to cut ups allow multiple interesting interpretations of the text, I have omitted punctuation.

Reading the text of Johnny 23 is a strangely disorienting experience. Deciphering as you go along, typos take on interesting new meanings, and it is difficult to tell how much of this was intentional. Take "Dally forth . . . " on p. 32, surely a typo, yet allowing for an interesting double reading given the sexual content of previous pages . . . or p. 24, is "word" in "from a word away" a misspelling of "world," or a pun on the Burroughs theme of the word virus which pervades the book? Anyone interested in the text at that level of detail should simply decipher it themselves.

For those who are impatient, however, here is the full deciphering of Johnny 23. Text is given by page number. Each line denotes a text box or speech balloon. Ordering is the obvious left to right, top to bottom. There were only a couple characters which I was unable to decipher, which I presume to be numerals. These are indicated with a _ when they appear.

2.
Nothing good will come of this.

There will be tears.

Nothing can become of nothing.

All hearts will grow cold and weary.

3.
The residue of a sad dream.

zzzzz

23 OK

4.
zzzzz

5.
Tan wane her.

One more try at the bing a 23 swollen.

Even in the end, 23.

6.
Let me find the new shivering sac a hard version of this.

The center won't hold, and nothing comes down from on high. Nada.

Blurred muttering and a soft white hiss; early spring with the wind blowing hard.

Don't try white.

Fall into a hard an bent end.

zzzzz

7.
bzzzzzzzzzzz

bzzzzzzzzzzz

How could you even think about coming up here and shtupping Eliza?

You can't go thinking in hard manner!

Pink blankets keep turning up in this story, don't they now?

8.
Shooting these in normal daylight is the only way this is going to work out.

You can run, but I don't think you will heal.

Find it in the back of another sadness.

23 it's going _ _ 3 1

Always with the photos, it seems to be the vital 23.

10.
I saw my baby get in. Get lost.

Why is it the only 23?

23 or another number.

By now I know them all. They smother me too.

11.
zzzzzzzzz xj 333333333

. . . llers with fift . . . ab follow your . . . the corner of a . . . leaking blood.

3333mmmmmmmmyyyyyyyyy

looking at ant . . . zipper you have . . . that the only way . . . venerable in t...

uuuuuuuuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

. . . f in the only . . . the normal way . . . ual in vintage . . . ournt in a loc

Come on inside and see the usual shit unfold in the most saddening way imaginable. Come see 23!

12.
Jesus fucking Christ, does this really have to be the end of it?

If you read this and are sick of heart, there's nothing I can help you with.

Cause the night is long and I'm still waiting for you. Think 1.

13.
We found ourselves sitting in banks of squeeling monitors hissing head with swollen fingers.

Thanks for checking me out and all.

Try as i may i could not find my way out of the torrent of shit flowing out of me.

zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Blaring petal . . . hive in a deep . . . gaping wound . . . most hallow . . .

I come up with new petal effects split into three parts . . .

Your lame hippy shit is so don't get [it]. Fucker.

I wouldn't mind him spitting down my throat today.

14.
She looked down at me from . . . sad my raging brain as it really is.

They call this guy Nitnit and I have no idea who he thinks he is.

Doug.

Keeping it to myself, finding another mark on the back of my hand.

Do [what] you like; your time is up. It's over.

23 as in the word virus in everyone.

15.
[ ......... ]

On the back of angels hot on the heels.

[ ........ ]

16.
Call me 23.

It's not hard.

[ ....... ]

17.
[ ....... ]

Hey you big dumb, move it!

Don't listen to the slug, he don't [know] shit all!

[ ....... ]

18.
Twixt 12 and twenty, you'll see another way to fill your heart.

[ ....... ]

Seems like I'm there.

It all shakes out the same in the end. You just need the guts to know when to quit.

Not that I know too much about that kind of stuff, you savvy?

There he is again!

Oy!

19.
Found out at last, you little runt!

Full load.

Yeah, she's a looker and then some.

20.
Forced into the open broken arrows coming out of the flesh.

Trying to bring back a feeling of random sex.

And again.

Nearly extinct blunt sex vision.

21.
Coming up from below in a hurry.

Focus.

Weepy gash torn up with endless tears.

Broken, bent out of shape like a song from in the air. Massive.

22.
The odors rising slick and slippery in the dark space between her thighs.

Her heart swollen. _3_ _ 2

My guess is you're trying to inject meaning into it.

I'm not try[ing] to inject shit, you dumb fuck!

I try to touch the photo cause I just know there is skin stuck in there way down in the core.

23.
Maybe the cat is the main clue, I just can't solve it.

Dirty sweet and falling off of the page in heat.

24.
Again with the random shit from a world away!

Nothing will be safe for you ever again.

Mace yourself at home, because I'm heading out to the void.

So when I look at you my breath gets sucked away, my eyes roll up in my head, and I know my time is almost up.

You'll never realize the lengths I had to go, the endless spilling of my guts and rending of my garments, you dig?

bzzzzz

25.
You can try to capture my image.

When the long day is done thats not what I'm really interested in, alright? Get it?

Did you read that in some sort of a comic book? I guess it sounds like something.

26.
Looking for the end but nothing present itself.

The word virus replicates and shifts into another vessel 23.

23 slides into into another 23.

Last prayers, last look.

My heart opens wider to . . .

. . . find the missing puzzle.

27.
Come on baby, you can light my fire, okay?

Fuck that noise! In this world we have to grab for all the gusto we can, and you're a little slack!

Furthermore, you need to work out your whole look a little better, you know what I mean?

I'm afraid the sad big-eyed look can't cut it anymore.

28.
Run that by [me again]. I don't get it.

Who the hell am I to tell you what to do with your sad little life? The last time I saw you, you were in way over your head.

Keep you sour mouth shut for just one second!

A typical patter like objects left in a hotel drawer, bits of a puzzle to try to fit into an impossible form.

Here's where it all falls apart. Nothing holds.

29.
We're doomed. The fat is in the fire now.

Basta! Basta!

31.
He faded in cigar smoke. There was a knock inside.

The penis rose out of the jock and dissolved in pink light back wearing a clitoris in white hot.

Hanging gimmick death in orgasm gills no nerves left no impressions of secondhand daylight _ _ _.

Dead young flesh in stale underwear. I have the impression of vending iron repetition. Ass and genitals broken.

Orgasm addicts stacked in the attic like muttering burlap woke up other flesh hooded dead gibber thrown off.

32.
Sally forth into a bold new world as it all flips.

And I repeat: Fuck that and the wagon you rode in on alright? Lit form within holding out.

You see it in the prize.

Distant muttering; a world in white heat.

Entry gimmick of the spawning death dwarfs seething in lust.

Distant star in another galaxy spins in another pattern.

All alone. I say unto thee, hide it deep inside. Dig the hole and slide it in up to the hilt.

33.
The sign reads: Last stop, last chance for falling hanging gimmick inside.

Part of the problem and the solution is linked to the safety of orgone.

34.
Another abortive attempt.

Eyes rolled up into the dark of my head.

Looking for the worthy vessel.

Radium pain an iron box covered in human skin.

36.
"Smile and shake it off," that's what he told me.

You think it's going to last for ever, but you're so wrong. I mean it.

Don't bring your sad shit around here.

I mean the end comes sooner or later, but you're never ready. unn.

If you think you're going to get out alive, good luck.

We got enough of our own to to hold us for a while.

37.
why doe he have to show up? All I want is some time to myself.

Every word out of his mouth is empty.

Chill the fuck out dude! Just let it go.

Does it really mean all . . .

I'll never find my way.

Remember the kingdom of heaven is within you! Right 23?

38.
What's to become of you now that you see what's on the end of your spoon, your dull dirty naked lunch?

A green river filled with refuse. The dark. A river running to the sea; a clogged vein; a tributary of silt. . .

I guess you don't give two fucks!

Why would you? This has no end.

Truth is stranger than all the lies I've told.

Save that bullshit for the marks who no longer know their ass from their elbow!

Why do you have to make this so hard? Give it up!

39.
It's coming again . . . I can feel it!

Why does it always have to be this way?

40.
Piggy pants.

It's open again, but I can't let you go.

Always crashing in the same car.

41.
Come back, Piggy!

42.
Down the hole.

Slipping in and out of sodden sloppy skin.

44.
Check it out, dude!

She's built like a brick shitter and does it all!

Does what all?

Oy vey!

45.
Slipping into the last set of shoes . . .

Hey, don't try messing with my head, okay? Don't try.

Fevers and high hard red.

It's time to turn a blind eye to the realities of the day. Dig it?

46.
Evaporate and leave a ring on the counter. Find your true heart in the void.

Another lifeless head attached to a feeble body waiting for the end, it seems.

But can the heart grow out of it?

Not too much chance of that.

Never?

Not never, but pretty fucking close! Eat your egg and turn an eye inward, 23.

47.
Finally we get to the abortion story, 23.

You can keep your crappy plate of eggs.

Tough guy, huh? So don't look too closely, and you'll find yourself in Gods gray earth.

The abortion . . . I was told this was supposed to be funny.

48.
There are times when you need to relax. Slip into the muddy water. You get it?

Eat it all up, come on!

All too soon the world will grow dark; the day will be done. Do eat up now!

Eat up indeed . . . read 'em and weep.

52.
unn.

Aw shit! Aw shit!

No more.

53.
In the shadow luster of shiny stumps. Why should I stay? What's keeping me? Daybreak. The face of a lousy kid and a cold white flesh home.

55.
Three ampoules of morphine. Blue eyes in the dark.

56.
Wait for me at the river filigree of trade winds.

Photos weather worn boys by the polluted water.

57.
City night fences dead fingers erect boys.

Girdling the pepper trees, the film is finished at last.

58.
Ice skates on a wall.

No more.

Luster of stumps washes his lavender sleep.

59.
The dogs are quiet.

Someone vague faded in a mirror.

60.
humm.

61.
If i could hold off for just a little longer and stay with my dose, I'll be . . .

62.
Christ! What's inside of screams?

The doctor's shabby sky rose tornado lost boy.

Smudge and whine of lost polluted water under the bridge, shadow of doubt.

63.
I was the smudge and face shabby table black hair.

Silver paper moving in the street lavender boy.

64.
FIN