Sequart #62: Elfworld

Elfworld was first conceived of by Jeffrey Brown, best known for his autobiographical comics. Fans of Brown will also know that he's fond of doing skewed takes on genre conventions as well. His Bighead is his version of a superhero character (adapted from stuff he used to do as a kid), and his upcoming Incredible Change-Bots does the same for The Transformers. On the Comics Journal message board back in 2004, he solicited entries for an anthology dealing with sword-and-sorcery type fantasy tales from fellow indy artists, to be called Elfworld. For a variety of reasons, he abandoned the project, but it was taken up by San Francisco artist Francois Vigneault, who started his own publishing concern (Family Style) for this and other projects. Most of the entries in this volume came from that original solicitation by Brown, in a nice-looking package edited by Vigneault and designed by Jonas Madden-Connor.

It's clear that the audience for this book is supposed to be indy-comics fans, and there are a few big names in here, like Brown, Martin Cendreda, Souther Salazar and Ron Rege'. It's unfortunate that their contributions are among the weakest in the book--single or two-page strips that don't really go anywhere. The problem with doing this kind of story is that a straight-up parody is going to be as tedious as one that slavishly adheres to the trappings of the genre. Cendreda does a parody of indy comics with his, with an elf character falling into the same kind of "lonely-boy" loser situations as one might see in some typical autobiographical comics. Even at just four pages, it feels like the joke was beaten to death in the first panel or two. The same went for Ansis Purins' "Gnome Gathering", which tried to meld fantasy with Freak Brothers-style humor. While the final joke about eagles was clever, this was another story that beat the same concept into the ground on page after page.

The stories that work best here are the sort that take after Lewis Trondheim's approach in Dungeon. There, the sword-and-sorcery stories are ridiculous but told with a straight face, and the humor comes out of the situations that arise rather than with easy parodic targets. Walking the line between understanding what makes the genre work and how to transcend its limitations isn't easy, and only a few of the artists in Elfworld got it right to my eyes.

The best stories by far were "Adventures In Mead", by Matt Wiegle, "Basilisk" by Kaz Strzepek, and an untitled story by K. Thor Jensen. Wiegle's story is spaced interstially throughout the story, and involves a drunk fighter with an uncanny knack for killing everything in his path. As we learn as the story proceeds, this ability isn't necessarily helpful. Wiegle's art is beautifully scratchy and cartoony, a nice balance between the strip's violence and its goofiness.

Jensen's story is familiar: a group of adventurers in an underground cavern looking for a fabulous lost city. This tale has a lot going for it. First, Jensen's art style resembles classic Elzie (Popeye) Segar here--a perfect model to emulate in terms of melding humor with adventure. Jensen's secret weapon here is his spot-on dialogue, especially with one member of the party whose constant complaining and skepticism about everything winds up saving them. This was one of the few stories in the book where the characters and situation were interesting enough for me to want to see more of them. Jensen takes the adventure seriously, but his funny art lightens up the action. It's a perfect compromise between the two sensibilities seen so often in this book.

"Basilisk" is a fantastic story about a smart-ass researcher trying to find the legendary basilisk near a small town. The creature is supposedly part-bird and has the power to turn anything it gazes upon into stone. The researcher talks a kobold in a bar to take him to the where his party encountered the creature so he could draw it. The basilisk turns out to be both more and less than what was expected, and the story's ending has a delightful twist. This story has it all--humor, a deep vein of D&D/fantasy references (I especially liked the appearance of a beholder), and a liveliness to its line. It's both funny and exciting, with a great final punchline. I don't think it was a coincidence that Strzepek was able to succeed here because of his comfort with stories that deal with fantastic elements. It was clear which artists were in their element and which weren't in this volume.

There are several other stories that pretty much took on a serious approach to the subject that didn't do enough to entertain as pure genre stories, or else tried to inject a "poignant moment" into fantasy settings. The one other story I did want to note was Erik Nebel & Jesse Reklaw's "The Little People", about a sort of blob-couple. The male is always off on some kind of quest, leaving his mate behind, and never gives her any details. Years later, when she and their son finally leave them, the real reason for his vagueness came out and it's not clear if he's a raving paranoid or had good reason for his actions. It's not quite as accomplished or interesting as the best stories in this book, but it's still clever and visually interesting. The story is quite grim, but it's balanced by the fact that the blobs are funny-looking.

Overall, this book falls prey to some of the traps that indy books tackling genre subjects fall into, but there are several stories that transcend these difficulties. When dealing with the same topic, story after story, there's a certain numbing effect that can take over for the reader. At the same time, the stories that manage to capture the theme in a unique manner are all the more memorable. Writing genre fiction creates a certain set of limitations and expectations for an artist, and it's a testament to an artist's skill if they can create something truly memorable given a reduced palette of storytelling options. There will be a second volume of Elfworld in 2008, and it'll be interesting to see which artists return and what new voices Vigneault brings in. While I appreciate Vigneault's attempt to bring a variety of approaches (serious and otherwise), the next volume may work better as a whole if every artist successfully walks the line between genre fantasy and playfulness. The book was solicited through Diamond and is also available at Family Style's website at http://www.family-style.com

Sequart Reprints: Project Romantic

This article was originally published at sequart.com in 2007.
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Design is growing to become increasingly important for comics as they continue to move into the bookstore market. In addition to having great stories, comics have to come in an attractive package. My favorite designer in comics is Chris Pitzer, the publisher behind AdHouse Books. The comics he publishes and edits are, without exception, absolutely gorgeous. I hesitate to call them “art objects” because while attractive, the covers and layouts are in service to the work. What I like best about Pitzer's eye is his understanding of simplicity in design. He has the spare eye of someone like an engineer, trying to build something that brings out the most in the form and function of a work. That lack of fussiness and business allows the reader to relax into the work and gives each artist a chance to have their work read on their terms.

Nowhere is that made clearer than in the three anthologies that Pitzer edited for AdHouse. The first, Project: Telstar, was printed in a sort of metallic blue ink and had science-fiction themes. The second, Project: Superior, was about superheroes. Project: Romantic takes on the romance genre with a number of different twists. In general, much of the work that Pitzer publishes falls into the category of “new mainstream.” Narrative takes precedence over thematic concerns, and that narrative is fairly straightforward. A lot of the comics that Pitzer has published have been “indy” takes on genre subjects, meaning that the usual narrative concerns have been subverted for other goals. That was especially true in the first two “project” anthologies, both of which were quite pleasant to look at and read but didn't linger for very long in one's memory. Part of that I think was due to the limitations of the sci-fi and superhero genres. I don't think either genre is elastic enough to work when stretched too far from their original constraints, especially when the nuts and bolts of superheroes or sci-fi are ignored in favor of other concerns.

This is why Project: Romantic is such a success, because of the elasticity of the romance genre. In fact, the artists in the book take the somewhat vague notion of what a “romance” story is and many of them attach genre trappings to them. My favorite submission by far was that of Joel Priddy's. He's published far too few comics since his stunningly beautiful debut Pulpatoon Pilgrimage a few years ago, but he does contribute a series of stories called “Sweetie 'n Me”. He takes standard romance tropes like couples talking alike, jealousy over past lovers and special birthday dinners and attaches them to a couple who happen to be mad scientists. Priddy makes great use of color for these little 3-4 page vignettes, which are perfectly designed and executed. I could read a book full of these strips and not tire of them.

Another reason why this book is so successful is that Pitzer took great pains to use artists with as many different styles as possible. From Scott Morse's animation-inspired expressionism to Austin English's primitivism, from Junko Mizuno's manga stylings to the Ditko-inspired strip by Adam McGovern & Paolo Leandri , there's something in here to appeal to every taste. As a result, not every strip will be equally effective for every reader, but I found them all to at least be pleasant. One of the more clever stories is “When I Was A Slut”, by emerging talent Hope Larson. It's an intricately constructed story about a young woman hoping that one of her online contacts will truly desire her, and the unusual twists and turns that occur as a result. T Edward Bak's “Trouble” is another slice-of-life story, this time about a pair of teenage girls. One is clearly in love with the other, who is thinking of leaving town with a sleazy guy. The dialogue is pitch-perfect and the garishness of the colors is a nice match for the melodrama of the situation.

The best adventure-related story is “Sewer Girls”, by Kaz Strzepek. Strzepek's stuff reminds me a bit of Brian Ralph's in terms of its content, feel, and non-ironic treatment of its subject matter. This story is about a post-apocalyptic world where all of the woman have turned into mutants and the remaining men are slowly going insane. When one boy finds one normal girl and they go on a date, it seems like a happy ending for everyone. It wound up being a grisly ending instead, in a grimly hilarious fashion. Another entertaining story about love gone wrong is “Hello, Eddie” by Roger Petersen. It's about a young woman who becomes obsessed with the Chicago Cubs' first baseman who becomes heartbroken when he's traded to the Phillies. She winds up shooting him in his hotel room when the Phillies come to down, but not for the reason you might think. Petersen's clear-line character design is enormously appealing, and his use of color was quite clever: it was Cubs' blue when the player was in Chicago, and Phillies' red when he was traded. It didn't hurt that the bright red perfectly matched the anger of the woman, the blood on the player's chest when he's shot, etc. It's a perfect little confection of a story, precisely the sort of story that's such a pleasure to discover in an anthology.

 There are four humorous stories worth mentioning. MK Reed's “Mrs Jeremy Dellorso” is a ridiculous story about a woman whose boyfriend literally turns into a bear one day. After he mauls everyone the night he meets her parents, she absurdly declares “Oh Jeremy, I can't stay mad at you.” What I love about this strip is that it takes the cliches of wedding stories and changes just one element to make it hilarious. Evan Larson's “Cupid's Day Off” is exactly what it sounds like. Except that it's not really about Cupid (he mostly gets drunk off-panel), but rather his assistant, who goes crazy with his bow and arrow. Suddenly, all sorts of crazy matchups are made: a dog & a cat, a man and a tree, another man and his sandwich, an alien & a football, and a mummy & a leprechaun are all immediately seized by lust. Best of all was Batman and a roll of toilet paper. When Cupid catches up with her and is about to fire her, she fires on him and the inevitable happens—they wind up married in the next panel, with all of the couples she helped get together in attendance. “Even Monkeys Know About Love After A Hundred Years”, by Randall Christopher, is essentially an illustrated stand-up routine about love that's a series of funny non-sequiturs. A typical line is “And when you're in love does not the sun shine brighter? Does not music sound so much sweeter? Does not Pantera start to sound like John Mayer? And John Mayer like Burt Bacharach? And if you're stupid enough to put on Burt Bacharach will you not find yourself wearing a silk robe, lying prostrate, and weeping before a gilded altar of Cupid?” Finally, Josh Cotter's comic timing was superb in four one-page strips about dating in the animal kingdom. The best is a hare and a tortoise. The hare talks about what a great time she had on their date and wondered if they could do it again sometime. After three silent panels, the tortoise finally says “I feel like maybe we're moving too fast.”

Project: Romantic doesn't push the envelope of comics and isn't in any way cutting edge. There's not much profundity to be found in these stories, and in fact many of the stories that go in that direction fall flat. The anthology is just pure entertainment, coming at the reader in a dizzying variety of styles & approaches, and edited by a designer with a great eye. Most of the entries leave the reader wanting more instead of saying “Is that it?”, which to me is the mark of a good anthology. For a book that's so much fun, there was a lot of substance here instead of mere style, which is my difficulty with anthologies like Flight. I attribute this to Pitzer, who seemed to work hard to have a lot of stories that had the strong hand of a writer rather than just a lot of visual pyrotechnics.

Inner Lives: The Mourning Star, volume 2

Rob reviews the second volume of Kazimir Strzepek's post-apocalyptic sci-fi epic, THE MOURNING STAR (Bodega Distribution).

Kaz Strzepek's MOURNING STAR series provides a number of visceral thrills and and an opportunity for readers to explore a carefully designed world. However, there are any number of genre comics that do much the same thing that aren't nearly as compelling. Speaking to him at SPX and trying to get a sense of his influences, he revealed that Megan Kelso's ARTICHOKE TALES (first seen years ago in the legendary NON #5 and soon to be published in its complete form by Fantagraphics) was the single biggest influence on this story. In particular, he was impressed that Kelso's clear line and cute character design could be used to tell a story that was in turns grim, romantic and thrilling. While he indeed took up those cues from Kelso for his story, he also picked up another element: creating a compelling inner life for every single character, be they hero or villain.

For example, volume 2 of the series of books opens up with what turns out to be an extended reverie by a character who was seriously injured in a fight with a bizarre assassin. The character is part of the Rule (the brutal, thuggish villains of the story), yet is treated as just another kind of protagonist by Strzepek. What was remarkable about this sequence (which was a callback to a tossed-off line in the first volume) was that it not only provided thrills and key plot information, it made the reader genuinely feel for the maimed guard. The sequence also took us on a tour of the daily lives of a group of thugs: they see themselves as the bold protagonists of a new world where force is the only currency. They're still capable of tenderness (the relationship between the chief lieutenant and his pregnant wife stood out), but crossing the line of murder and pillaging forces them into a permanent state of dissociation. It pushes them to create a rigidly-defined set of us-and-them, one where the Other is an object fit only for subjugation or murder. The sequence doesn't exactly make us sympathize with the Rule characters, but certainly makes the reader understand their point of view. It's life in theHobbesian state of nature: nasty, brutish and short.

The rest of the book finds Strzepek slowly tightening the varied character threads, getting the disparate protagonists in deeper trouble while pulling them toward the same place. The way that Strzepek creates not just scenes, but densely-packed environments, invites comparison to two other key influences: Brian Ralph and Mat Brinkman. Ralph has always preferred to let his environment dominate his narratives, engulfing the one or two protagonists who have to confront it. Brinkman goes even further with the way his characters and their environment don't have much of a sense of separation between them, with only constant movement differentiating the two. We never get a sense of the inner lives or motivations of their characters beyond simple survival and/or curiosity. With Strzepek, the characters drive everything with a complex set of motivations. Throughout the story, Strzepek creates lulls that allow for exploration of those desires, often in surprising ways.

For example, the dream-eating ghost-like character that has a symbiotic relationship with one of the heroes gets separated from his friends and winds up having his own set of adventures with others of his kind. Stzepek whisks the reader along on this diversion, having long imparted to the reader that he was in no hurry to get from point a to point b plotwise. These side adventures add a richness to the overall story that fits in well with Strzepek's sense of humor. In the style of Lewis Trondheim & Joann Sfar's DUNGEON series, Strzepek keeps things light with his dialogue even when the world he created is a grim one. That balance is perfectly struck with the character of the nameless Snipper-sniper, a deadly mercenary assassin who's almost impossible to kill. This particular character has amnesia, so he spends much of his time bumbling around until something challenges him to a fight, which he inevitably wins with a mix of brutality and comic timing.

There are quests in THE MOURNING STAR, but not a Quest, per se. The reader slowly starts to learn a bit more about what really happened to their decimated world, a plot point that is deliberately shrouded in mystery. The quests introduced are small: finding a lost loved one, finding a new place to live, recovering one's memory, climbing a brutal social order. We get hints of an overarching plot in this issue when we meet a group of rebels seeking to assassinate the mysterious leader of the Rule, but Strzepek never lets that interfere with having the reader concentrate on a succession of moments.

Visually, Strzepek creates a set of characters with cute features: simply designed faces, pointy ears and stumpy bodies. Like Trondheim, it makes the violence they engage in simultaneously shocking and hilarious. Strzepek adds a layer of dust and grime to his characters and their world befitting its status as wreaked by war and chaos. He alternates all-black background bleeds with all-white ones, sometimes doing so as to establish time of day and sometimes doing so as to establish mood. He favors a lot of small panels with close-up shots, creating a world that feels a bit claustrophobic. He never overloads panels with unnecessary detail, instead allowing the eye to fly across the page with his breezy dialogue or frenetic (but clearly-presented) fight scenes. That's due in part to the clever simplicity of his character design and disciplined use of spotting blacks. THE MOURNING STAR may owe a debt of inspiration to a number of sources, but Strzepek has succeeded in creating something that feels like an exemplar of a new, intelligent sort of genre comic instead of a simple knock-off.