Two New Anthologies From Hic & Hoc

The Hic & Hoc Illustrated Journal of Humor, Volume One: The United States, edited by Lauren Barnett and Nathan Bulmer. In my idle fantasies where I suddenly become a multi-millioniare, I dream of funding and publishing a cutting-edge humor anthology featuring the best of new and old talent. The Illustrated Journal of Humor is remarkably close to my vision of what that anthology would look like. Editors Barnett and Bulmer are funny cartoonists in their own right, and they've assembled a book that has a lot of key veterans as well as younger talent. Their "Note From the Editors On Humor" is one of two expertly-executed fart jokes in this book, and it's rare that scatological humor in general makes me laugh at all.

The book opens with a fantastic Noah Van Sciver piece that positions one of his typical sad-sack characters who is sick and can't get sleep. Suddenly, there's an insistent narrator who questions him and urges him to look at the naked one-eyed monster in his bedroom, rubbing his genitals all over the character's beloved and important stuff. Lines like "It's true. You do indeed have a gun. It's right there being rubbed all over a dick" made me laugh out loud. There's also plenty of anti-humor and meta-humor, like Bort's hacky-punchline busting series of strips, or most especially Martha Keavney's "Buster" strips. Keavney has been a long-time favorite of mine, thanks to her Badly-Drawn Comics and Spelt-Rite Comics, and she's certainly someone I'd be eager to publish. The "Buster" strip is a hilarious take-off on hacky pet comics/sit-coms, only it's from the point of view of aliens with a pet human. Keavney's understanding of the timing needed to make such mimicry work is incredible.

Some of the artists, like Nikki Burch, use an exaggerated visual style to tell a simple joke. Others, like Sam Spina's excellent "Pern", use a simplified style to relentlessly pound the reader with a series of jokes associated with a couple having sex. The jokes are mostly in the dialogue, with the exception of the screwed-up angry face of the woman when they're indulging in "age play" and she slaps him and snarls "Don't you EVER talk back to mama.". It's hilarious because it's so incongruous. Of course, there's also the king of minimalist gag work, Sam Henderson.  He's another obvious choice for such an anthology, and his mix of visual gags and puns always deliver. Then there are strips that are funny because they exaggerate everyday situations, like going shopping for clothes. Madeline Flores' page of simple but exaggerated drawings and screaming things like "This shirt makes my tits look GOOOOOD!" was another stand-out in a book that was incredibly dense with great contributions. The same is true for Jane Mai's outrageous page of designing men's lingerie, slapping packages into "snake" or "elephant" and humiliating her man into getting a "shame boner" before she simply goes to sleep.

Not every strip uses exaggeration in its visuals, nor do they go for strict gags. For example, Grant Snider's comics are contemplative and amusing, where every panel is funny in its own way without building up to something larger. Dustin Harbin's "Lives of the Generals" similarly starts with a simple premise and riffs on it for panel after panel in his crisp and cartoony style. Sam Sharpe's strip about a boy's relationship with a beloved superhero of his youth carrying on into the bigger questions is more bittersweet than laugh out loud, even as the conceit of the strip (the answer to the question asked in every panel is "no"). Julia Wertz's amazing "Life Like This" equates being a "funny" cartoonist to a vaudeville act that's booed off the stage when she tries to discuss something serious. Despite (and really, because of) the gruesome ending, Wertz still manages to throw in a punchline. It really is her entire career boiled down to a single bit of brilliance. There's also solid work by Jeff Lok, Dakota McFadzean, Patt Kelley (pretty much the ultimate fart joke), Nathan Stapley and others. Even the worst strips in here are still solid, as Barnett & Bulmer both did a fine job of balancing the absurd, the grotesque, the whimsical and the flat-out funny. This is a smash-hit success.

Hic & Hoc Presents: Unknown Origins & Untimely Ends, edited by Emi Gennis. The titular subjects are objects of fascination for Gennis, who frequently writes about weird but true deaths in her comics. This anthology is the comics version of shows like In Search Of... or Unsolved Mysteries, further combined with urban or folk legends particular to certain areas. As is generally the case in such instances, I found that the stories that had more of a foot in reality were more interesting than the stories that relied on the potential of ghosts, monsters, UFOs and other some ephemera. For example, Jackie Roche's "The Leatherman" is a very humane look at an enigmatic man who made the rounds on foot in northeast America. Aaron Whitaker's "The Monster With 21 Faces" is one of several stories regarding unsolved crimes; this one was about a group that kidnapped the head of a candy company, let him go, threatened to poison his product and then later taunted the helpless police department. "The Voynich Manuscript", by the always excellent Julia Gfrorer, turns her spooky storytelling style on a mysterious manuscript that has never been decrypted. I also thought "Goo" by Jason Bradshaw and "Meat Shower" by Noah Van Sciver were funny and weird examples of strange stuff falling out of the sky for no discernible reason. Though it crossed over into urban legend territory, Tod C. Parkhill's "Polybius", is an elegant and creepy tale. It's about a legendary arcade game similar to the vector graphics action of Tempest and the nightmarish effect it had on some gamers, and it's done in that same vector line drawing style. Though the story devolves into men-in-black style conspiracy theories, it was stylish and just credible enough to be of interest.

In the "Untimely Ends" section, there are plenty of stories about unsolved murders, people who mysteriously disappeared, death that are totally unexplained, and certain famous people. WIthoutcomingout and saying it, for example, Phillip Sevy links the death of a young would-be actress named Elizabeth Smart to Orson Welles, connecting the dots in such a way as to explain why he left Hollywood, why he became so depressed and why his career never recovered. Lizz Lunney's take on the influence and death of Rasputin is played for laughs thanks to her cartooning style, alleviating the heavy sense of dread and mystery that most of the other stories in the book are burdened with. I appreciated the thoroughness with which Emi Gennis and JT Yost approached their murder-mystery stories, sticking as close to the facts as they were known while acknowledging the crazier theories surrounding their cases. Jenn Woodall and Sam Alden approached their subjects (a haunted forest, a ghost ship) in a more poetic manner, relying heavily on illustrations as a way of juxtaposing rather than simply guiding the text. For the most part, the very specific voice of each cartoonist was turned down a bit in service of their anecdotes, which makes this anthology something to pursue if you're interested in the subject rather than a particular cartoonist. 

Musical Anthologies: As You Were and Henry & Glenn: Forever & Ever

As You Were #1, edited by Mitch Clem. This "punk comix" anthology is at times loose, sloppy, unfocused and self-indulgent. At other times, it's charming, funny, fascinating and visually striking. The astute reader can draw their own conclusions as to how this relates to punk rock itself. The theme of this issue is "house shows", a particularly insular topic that lent itself to self-indulgence. Thankfully, the anthology starts out strong with a typically charming preamble about house shows from Ramsey Beyer. Anthony Sorge's story about a basement haunted by the ghosts of mosh pits past was funny and drawn in a cartoony style that added to the humor. Kim Funk's autobio story about his band following up an obnoxiously sexist group (including the prerequisite rape joke) is full of righteous outrage, as they happened to be in the rare environment where a queer band was supported by the audience and those running the show. The other band and their GG Allin-shirt wearing superfan got kicked out. The raw simplicity of Funk's style was perfect for capturing the events of that night. Clem himself contributes a fantastic autobio story about feeling lonely living in a new city, feeling awkward being around new friends that have known each other for a long time, and feeling uneasy in punk scenes. This led him to skip an acoustic house show, which happened to be the Mountain Goats (aka John Darnielle solo) doing a show in someone's living room. It's an incredibly revealing and sad story that is still entirely wrapped up in music.

From there, things start to break down a bit. Andy Warner's "Whisper" is a highlight that amusingly reveals the kind of sonic blast that can interrupt intimate moments. However, Josh P.M. Frees' "My Parents' House" is an example of the self-indulgence I referenced earlier. Complete with photos and multiple, self-satisfied references to a particular group house, this story meanders even as it tries to be poignant. It still had the potential to really get across meaning and feeling, but Frees repeated the same points on why this place was awesome several times and did more telling than showing. The anthology did finish strong, with Bill Pinkel's "The Frowning Of A Lifetime", which was about a guy playing show "cop" by physically picking up a woman who was drunk and bumping into others without fully understanding what went on or respecting her space. It gave a lot more thought to one's own actions than most of the stories in this book. Finally, Emilya Francis' "69 Gay Street" succeeds in getting across that poignant sense of belonging with a more restrained sense of storytelling and a lovely grey-wash over her delicate line. I'll be curious to see if Clem can keep this anthology going and what subject he chooses next.

Henry & Glenn Forever & Ever #2, edited by Tom Neely. America's favorite couple returns after a first issue that sold a jaw-dropping 71,000 copies. Considering that this is a simple lark in the grand scheme of Tom Neely's career, it must continually amuse and frustrate him that this is the most financially successful comics project of his career. That said, Neely has recruited absolutely stellar work for this series, in addition to doing his own stories. The comic simply looks great from beginning to end, and even the filler (like the pin-ups) all add value to this tight and lean collection of silliness. To reiterate the concept, this series imagines macho rockers Henry Rollins and Glenn Danzig as lovers, living in suburban bliss (more or less). While the stories are totally silly and fictional, there are still sly nods to reality. For example, in the first story done by Neely, it begins with Danzig getting back to doing comics again, this time doing a pitch-perfect pastiche of Jack Kirby's 70s comics. Juxtaposing that against the Dan DeCarlo style he uses for "reality" is especially funny, particularly when Danzig starts having a hissy fit. The central joke of this strip is that Glenn's mother, whom Glenn had kept locked away, is an abomination because she's a very nice Christian, buying them lots of supplies because they won't make it through the Rapture.

Mark Rudolph's heavy-metal fantasy story about Glenn undergoing a very domestic sort of quest is hilarious, thanks to his gift for caricature and spoof. Will Elder style eye-pops (like a framed crochet with an upside-down cross that says "Unbless this Mess") only add to the fun. The real stunner in this issue is Josh Bayer's thunderous "Same Time, Next Year", which captures his unique ability to nail historical events while creating an outrageous and fictive structure. In his trademark swirly, cluttered and yet entirely clear style, Bayer takes us to several key years in the relationship between Rollins and Danzig as they go through career and personal ups and downs. Bayer takes us into the future where they apparently have to fight aliens and then deal with the mutations brought on by a nuclear holocaust. Yet, he ends the comic on a heartfelt and earned moment that's a callback to the beginning of the story. Throw in some pin-ups by Katie Skelly, Tom Scioli and Andy Belanger, along with a funny back-page story by Max Clotfelter, and you have an item that a lot of people will want to get their hands on.

Minicomics: Friedman, Fleener, Gennis, Alden

My Senior Year, by Sarah Friedman. Friedman is a comics newcomer just finishing up college, and this modest but witty minicomic is her first attempt at autobio. I really like her self-caricature: freckles, curvy eyebrows, pointy chin, and a short shock of hair. In this comic, she keeps things short and stays within her limitations without over-rendering her figures. Indeed, she makes nice use of negative space as a way of varying her pages and tries to hit on the highest points of her anecdotes to create a strip with a bit of comedic impact. "Babysitting" is a good example, as the two kids she's taking care of first declare that they're not going to go to college, then express interest because they wonder if one "gets to see people's butts". Friedman's palpable discomfort is nicely captured in the way she draws her mouth screwing up. Other strips see her understanding her future as a cartoonist, like when she turns down a party to finish a drawing. There's nothing revelatory about these strips, but they do indicate someone with a good sense of storytelling and how to get across a gag. Hopefully, she'll keep going and we'll see what else she's capable of.

The Less You Know, The Better You Feel, by Mary Fleener. Fleener is one of my all-time favorite cartoonists, both for her outstanding autobio comics and her occasional forays into filthy fiction. In February of 2012, she started doing a weekly political cartoon for the Encinitas Coast News, in part as a reaction to the rampant greed and opportunism of her city's government. As a native of Miami, I know only too well the ways in which politicians will roll over when given a chance to line their pockets with money from developers. Fleener had never done political cartooning before, and that shows in a number of her early strips. She's overly reliant on labeling her illustrations to represent specific people, ideas or events; while this is a long tradition in political cartooning, it can also be a bit of an easy cop-out. As she went forward, her own natural creativity and style started to take over the page, coming up with narratives like the one above regarding how trees and their owners were suddenly treated. Fleener also goes on tangents regarding the flora and fauna of her beloved small coastal town, giving a reader a true sense of the flavor of Encinitas. The strips also get funnier and meaner as she gets more comfortable with expressing herself in such a compact manner. Visually, they are impeccable, as her character design and visual flourishes add a dimension to the political cartoon that is not usually seen in typical fare If she hasn't already, I hope she joins the American Association of Editorial Cartoonists (AAEC), because she deserves to be recognized by a new group of peers.

Unfortunate Mishaps In Aviation History and The Unusual Death of Gregory Biggs, by Emi Gennis. Gennis is making an interesting side career out of depicting weird ends "from the Wikipedia list of unusual deaths". What's interesting about these exercises is how they've made her a better artist. Simply put, her character design, backgrounds and sheer drawing ability have improved tremendously over the past few years as she's had to draw machines, people in different eras, and weird situations. Of course, this material strikes a chord in Gennis as well, as evidenced by her editing an anthology's worth of stories about "untimely ends" for Hic & Hoc. Unfortunate Mishaps is a cruel but often funny account of two incidents of sheer hubris, wherein dumb inventors and unprepared explorers thought that their sheer intellect and ingenuity were a match for things like gravity and the Arctic winter. The death of Franz Reichelt is about a man trying to perfect a working parachute who decides to use a live model (himself) and jump off the Eiffel Tower on a windy day. The Arctic expedition went awry because the explorers made no attempt to understand the terrain.  

Gregory Biggs is a far more unsettling comic. The title character was slammed into while walking on the side of a highway, and he went flying into the woman's windshield who hit him. She was all kinds of high, which may have led to her spectacular disconnect from reality. She apologized, drove him, had sex with her boyfriend and woke up the next morning to unsurprisingly find him dead. Her boyfriend helped her cover it up, but she got drunk at a party and bizarrely bragged about the incident. Gennis takes an understated approach here, letting the events speak for themselves with an extensive use of cross-hatching and negative space. Gennis is ready for a major project. 

Patron Saint, by Sam Alden. Published by Space Face, this recent Alden mini is another leap forward. Using this kind of crazy, angular drawing style that emphasizes negative space, Alden tells the story of a young production assistant on a film set and interpolates it with the haunted story of Astro Boy. Seeing Astro Boy, whose ghost (according to a sound man) haunts the earth after he plunged himself into the son, is an ill portent, but the PA instead turns all of her frustration toward her asshole boss (centering around batteries) into a single moment of reality-warping and fantasy-fulfilling violence. It's a remarkable set of panels, made possible by the slightly rubbery quality of his line.

NBM Spotlight: Abelard, An Enchantment, The Initiates

Abelard, by Renaud Dillies and Regis Hautierre.  This is a deeply problematic story about the quest of an innocent and the tragedies that pile up along the way. It follows an anthropomorphic chick named Abelard who happens to spy a beautiful girl named Eppily. When he fails to woo her with a flower, a fox sardonically suggests that he try to give her the moon or the stars. From there, the astoundingly naive Abelard goes on a series of adventures in order to go to America and get a flying machine so as to go to the moon. How much one enjoys the story depends on how long one can stay sympathetic toward Abelard, who is really a walking punching bag of a character. Guided by little other than the aphorisms that pop out of his calculatedly cute oversize hat, he makes friends in some quarters (including gypsies straight out of central casting), enemies in others, and eventually a reluctant friend in a bear who was in love with Eppily as a younger man.

Let's go over some of the problems I have with the book. The nature of the attraction between Abelard and Eppily is infantile and on the surface. Building a book's worth of agency on that alone was a bit much to swallow, because Abelard had very little presence or agency as a character other than that single desire, which reduced her to a simple objectification. Indeed, several characters talk about her (in a mostly disparaging fashion), but we never really have a clue as to who she is or why she does what she does, which is the fate of all the women in this book. Even though the artist comment on the absence of women in the marsh were Abelard was born and poke fun at the misogyny of the characters there, their representation in the book isn't much better. Dillies is an incredibly talented artist who makes the most of the material here, but even he turns up the cute a bit too much in the face of increasingly-cliched sentimentality that begins to build up as Abelard's quest becomes increasingly doomed. Indeed, the "magic" of the ending depended entirely on how sad one was to see Abelard meet his eventual fate, and the only thing I was sad about was how he couldn't find comfort in the moment (a running theme in the book) and be satisfied with that. He let himself be battered by fate, and his outcome was inevitable. As a result, I found him an entirely unsympathetic character, and worse still, an incredibly dull one to pin a whole narrative around. Hautiere and Dillies were going for a fairy tale and lost all sense of restraint as storytellers, and the ensuing mix of cruelty and sentiment was difficult to swallow.

An Enchantment, by Christian Durieux. Labeled "a graphic poem" by the author, this book is the latest in a series of comics set in Paris' Louvre. The plot, such as it is, is simple. The director of the museum is ill and a party is held in his honor to celebrate his retirement. The cantankerous old man has other plans, slipping out of the party with a couple of bottles of red wine and a secret plan to perhaps kill himself and cause all sorts of mischief in that manner. In the halls of his beloved Louvre, he encounters a beautiful young woman who seems invisible to the guards, and they run off and engage in all sorts of hijinks. At the end of the book, she leads him into her home: a painting by Antoine Watteau, where they will forever embark on a journey to Aphrodite's island. It was not hard to see this coming, as the nameless young woman was clearly either part of a painting or else an angel of death; it may well be that she was both.

The story is not the thing, here, though. This is a love-letter to the Louvre, a dance between a man who loves it more than anyone and the only one who could be a proper partner: a subject from one of the paintings personifying youth. Durieux is an astonishing craftsman, but it's his ability to make his characters come alive that makes this such a deeply affecting book. The reader can't help but feel for the old man, surrounded by beauty but with so little time to go. The presence of the woman is a kind of elixir vitae, a powerful but temporary reprieve from the ravages of age. She's playful and flirty but also enigmatic and unpredictable, all qualities the old man didn't know he needed to experience until the end. As they progress through the museum and trade pithy quotes, the pair celebrates what is great about the Louvre and art in general. The panels where famous poses from paintings are recreated are funny and clever. Indeed, the lightness of this book's mood in the face of potentially maudlin storytelling decisions is to its credit. The book is the best kind of party, celebrated by a man looking to go out his way and the ghosts of a building that treasured him as much as he treasured the works themselves. This is a beautiful and even lyrical tribute to those who go above and beyond the call of duty with regard to art.

The Initiates, by .Etienne Davodeau. This is an extended process project that takes its time delving into its two subjects, attempting to connect the two and expounding upon the philosophy of each subject. In this case, the two subjects are wine-making and comics. Davodeau is a French cartoonist who approached the vintner Richard Leroy with a proposition: he would spend time with him in order to understand everything that went into making wine, and in return Davodeau would teach him about the world of comics. This is an inside baseball kind of book, the sort that only a reader who is fascinated by arcane details and the arguments related to them could love. Davodeau spends a full year with Leroy, a vintner whose philosophy of wine-making gives him a surprising amount in common with the cartoonist.

That's because he favors biodynamic farming, an approach based on the anthroposophy of Rudolf Steiner. The philosopher and educator's theory informs Waldorf school education today, and its heart lies in the idea that in order to thrive, develop and learn, we must be as close to the earth and its processes as possible. For Leroy, this means pruning his grape vines by hand over a period of three months. It means spraying with very light manure and silica sprays instead of using chemical sprays. It means using almost no sulfur in fermenting his wines. Above all else, it means that his communion with the soil, the plants and the wine-making process gives his wines his own personal signature: the wines are his expression. It's a level of individual craftsmanship not unlike a cartoonist going to a drawing board and spending long, lonely months and deven years drawing stories. The results in both cases are enjoyed by a relatively select few, but the devotees are truly devoted.

For the most part, I thought the sections of the book that focused on wine-making to be far superior to the sections where Davodeau takes Leroy to meet a cartoonist or attend a comics festival. The fact is that, especially in the beginning, Leroy is not an especially adventurous or bold reader. Some of Davodeau's choices seemed a bit odd as well (giving Watchmen to someone with no experience of reading superhero comics was ill-advised). I did enjoy little touches like Leroy wondering why Lewis Trondheim drew himself as a bird with a beak rather than as a person, only to have Davodeau have Trondheim draw a one-page comic answering that very question! What was clear was that Leroy respected the passion and dedication of the cartoonist, especially since he came to wine-making late in life. Like making comics, it's less a profession than a calling; one realizes that it's what one must do. Davodeau's drawing is conventional and realistic with the slightly cartoony quality of most French cartoonists. The grey wash gives it a neutral quality that places the emphasis of the book on the content rather than the drawings themselves, which almost entirely eschew any sense of decorative quality. It's an interesting book that draws some intriguing connections, but it stops short of really delving into any of these ideas at length. Instead, the focus is on what the two men do, how they do it, and some thoughts on why they do it. It's up to the reader to draw any further conclusions.

Excellent Kickstarters:Steve Lafler and Dennis Eichorn

There are a couple of Kickstarter fundraisers that I really want to heartily recommend. First up is a collection of Steve Lafler's underground comics series Dog Boy, titled Doggie Style. The fundraiser is designed to build up some stock to sell ahead of print-on-demand. This is free-flowing, stream-of-consciousness weirdness with all sorts of crazy gags and scenarios.

The second is a Kickstarter by Tom Van Deusen, who will be publishing two issues of Real Good Stuff. This is all-new material written by Dennis Eichorn, whose 90s series Real Stuff was one of the premier venues for excellent and outrageous autobio stories with art by the cream of the alt-comics set. The art for the new comics will be done by a mix of new and old artists, including Jim Blanchard, Max Clotfelter, Mary Fleener, Sean Hurley, Aaron Lange, Pat Moriarity, Tom Van Deusen, and Noah Van Sciver. This has made its goal, but its stretch goals are still in play, with some interesting new rewards.

Most Excellent: Carl's Large Story!!

Marcos Perez is a long-time mainstay of shows like SPX, cutting his teeth on a realistic comic series about relationships called Tear-Stained Makeup. Thanks to a successful Kickstarter campaign, he was able to collect his long-running web series, Carl Is The Awesome as Carl's Large Story!! This is a gloriously silly and ridiculous comic about a little dinosaur man with a beaver tail and his many adventures. Perez seems to be channeling Evan Dorkin's underlooked Bill and Ted's Excellent Comic from the 90s, a wonderfully overstuffed bit of nonsense that was all-kitchen sink, all the time. How much you'll enjoy this book depends on one's appetite for pure silliness stretched over 172 pages. Perez really makes all of this work because the heart of the book is the relationship between the titular Carl, a small dinosaur creature with a beaver tail, and Bill$ Murray, a warthog. Anthropomorphic characters and regular humans mix and match with no comment whatsoever in Perez's world, but the framing device of the importance of family and friendship ties the book together.

The plot follows Carl trying to piece his life together after he's ousted from the mayorship of Atlantic City but a corrupt villain of a businessman. Meanwhile, Bill$ is trying to find his birth parents. All of the action in the book follows that duo on their quest and the parade of thugs thrown in their path as well as the people they meet on the way. There is lots and lots of silly shouting in this book from characters like Elbow Bruce (who's looking to sell elbow jewelry), L'rac (Carl's French-Canadian private detective cousin), Shout Trout (a rapping fish), Vampire Tom Jones and a couple of dozen more. The plot of the book is less important than the jokes which are grounded in character interaction and genuine emotion. When Carl is confronted on his bullshit by Bill$, it leads to their friendship fracturing before Carl realizes that he's right. Above all else, Carl's non-stop shouting about himself and others, declaring things to be super-sick, awesome, etc manages to be funny for an entire book. Perez's real accomplishment in this book is creating a dumb character who says silly things and making the reader care about him and his friends. Because the reader cares, they are invested in what happens to them in their adventures as well as what happens to their relationships. Perez pulls this off because he lays enough character development down that's not just a punchline to give the characters a bit of heft, absurd though it may be. He also fills up each page with eye pops and frantic detail the way that Dorkin does, varying his character design while managing to keep his pages clear and easy to navigate. The eye wants to soak in the silliness on the page precisely because Marcos does a nice job leading the eye from panel to panel and page to page.

On a completely different note, Perez also sent along the first minicomic issue of Sovereign State, which takes yet another different turn in styles. Perez here is using a naturalistic, spare line heavy on grey-scaling and atmosphere. The story is a mix of post-apocalyptic survival and futuristic procedure, with a lot of info-dump dominating the first issue. I'll be curious to see what Perez winds up doing with this idea.

New Comics From Colleen Frakes

Let's take a look at some recent work from Colleen Frakes, one of the first graduates of CCS.

Tragic Relief #14: Washaway. Raised on an island herself, Frakes has a special talent for writing stories about the sea and the frequently sad and lonely people who depend on it. Washaway begins with a woman living in a beach house, going about her daily routine with her dog and seeming generally content. That's until an old friend of hers arrives for a visit, but her hopes are dashed when she learns that he's there to play a gig. The comic alternates between her hermitage in the house, her desperately trying to get the man to stay (and the crushing weight of his rejection -- worse, thinking of her as a mother figure) and the dog attempting to get a similar level of attention. It all ends badly for everyone, as the theme of nothing lasting forever taking on a literal meaning. Frakes is quite adept at depicting desperate characters, and the female protagonist of this story is a powerful and sad story. As always, her spare & simple line is impeccably beautiful and expressive, as she's becoming better and better at depicting body language.

Tragic Relief #15: I Should Have Dumped You... Frakes very rarely dips into autobio stories, and she's the rare cartoonist I'd like to see do more of this kind of story. She's quite good at it, especially when she's going for laughs. The only problem with this very funny mini is that it's way too short. The intro page, where her friends say, "That's hilarious, but you can never publish it" then sees Frakes (whose self-caricature continues to be one of the best in comics) wickedly declare "No...I can totally publish it". Her solution was to take the stories of herself and her friends and transform them into a series of one-panel vignettes featuring a completely different couple. The horrible things that boyfriend says ("You know I'd break up with you if you ever got fat") and does (steals a checkbook only to lose it) are very funny and cleverly portrayed, with a strong emphasis on the relationship in space between the two characters. The only problem with this comic is that it's too short; I could have read a comic three times as long and never gotten tired of it.

Finally, Frakes has a short strip in the Doctor Who fanzine allons-y. I could have done without the long essays on Doctor Who fandom, though I suppose such things were inevitable in this sort of zine. Frakes' "You Never Forget Your First Doctor" was typically clever and unabashedly fannish, touching on the ways in which memory can make something seem better than it actually was. The only things really worth reading in the zine were personal takes on the show. I enjoyed GP Bonesteel's imagining Toy Story's Buzz Lightyear as a former companion of the Doctor turned into a toy as well as Jared Rosello's poignant then grimly funny take on facing one's fears.