I swear I didn’t read A Thousand Crows’ review of Supermarket, before writing my own. I especially didn’t read the comments below the post, where somebody named AngelVision wishes that the series had been six or eight chapters. Honest. Anyway, here’s an excerpt, with which I’m in complete agreement:

The story itself has a anti-consumerism tilt to it, but it’s mostly violence, action, and humor. I really loved the world that everything was set in, with all it’s towering buildings and beautiful toxic sunsets, and I could look at Kristian Donaldson’s depictions of it forever. What didn’t feel as strong to me were the characters inhabiting that world: they didn’t make a huge impression on me. That’s not to say that Supermarket isn’t entertaining – it’s awesome – but there are better examples of Brian Wood’s writing. …more

Chris Arrant, on the other hand, liked the book a lot — enough to place it at number six in his top graphic novels of 2006 list.

Like me, Ian Brill was taken with the book right up until the very end, and has particularly interesting things to say about Wood’s ability to build a character, and then to build a story and a thematic structure around that character’s, um, characteristics:

There’s a scene early on in Supermarket that defines the book’s star, Pella Suzuki, and the book itself. Coming downstairs for breakfast the teenager lectures her mother about the plight of farmers who never see any real money from the billion-dollar coffee industry. After taking that first sip in the morning Pella’s sermon is interrupted so she can ask her mother “Is this Sumatran? S’good.” That uneasy co-existence of two contradictory notions, enjoying the spoils of the industrial world while still knowing the injustices behind those spoils, is at the heart of both Pella’s character and the book. Brian Wood and Kristian Donaldson have created a comic that stars a would-be revolutionary who decries her urban surroundings while reveling in the almost sci-fi aesthetic of today’s cities and their cultures.
…more

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This is a follow-up to my feature review of Planetes Book 1 by Makoto Yukimura

On SF Site, Susan Dunman had this to say:

As author and illustrator, Makoto Yukimura creates a believable near-future that’s filled with the excitement of discovery on both personal and planetary levels. It doesn’t shrink from the many dangers faced by those exploring space, yet the overall tone is upbeat and positive, assuring those with big dreams that the adventure is worth the risks. In true manga style, the book reads from back to front, right to left. Because it’s so easy to get involved with this story, you may forget you’re reading the book backwards. That’s a very good sign. …more

And from the late, lamented Ninth Art comics review blog:

One of the most engaging aspects of PLANETES is how much emphasis is placed on the danger of living and working in space. Between showing how the lower gravity can alter your muscles and bone structure, to the radiation levels that cause cancer, to the just unbearable fear of the vastness of space, Yukimura presents space as a hostile and dangerous place in a way that most science fiction makes a point of avoiding. …more

Khaled Abou Alfa loves the book, but isn’t a fan of its American publisher, TokyoPop, better known, perhaps, for flooding the market with less literate works:

I have no idea how this little gem of a comic got through the Viz and Dark Horse net to be honest, because it is easily one of the best manga series I’ve read, and I’ve read a lot of manga series. …more

The Village Idiot Savant picked up the book on the cheap. Lucky:

You never quite know what you’ll find in the bookstore bargain bin. Most times, it’s really marked down overruns that nobody wants; and on that rare occasion, you get a little gem whose value outshines its full price counterparts. …more

Otaku Champloo finds the book to be deep, indeed:

I may sound like a lunatic to say this, but reading Planetes is like reading Descartes and Marcel. It talks about man’s journey: from his self-centered beginnings, to one that is truly historical. Before this leaps into a philosophical paper (which I myself am evading as my head still hurts from last semester’s reflections), maybe we could place ourself further into the manga by looking at the importance of space. …more

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I read, but couldn’t think of anything much to say about, Jason’s The Living and the Dead (note: this does not mean that I did not enjoy the book). Fortunately, other writers on the web, as usual, are on the job, with thoughts to spare.

It took me a while to pick an excerpt from One of the Jones Boys’ excellent discursive review, which delves into the history and anthropological implications of the zombie genre, as well as its recent resurgence in comics of all kinds, before getting down to the specific book in hand, but I finally settled on this one:

[...] Jason’s characters are uniquely well-placed to survive the apocalypse. The devil himself could appear on the page, rape a thousand schoolchildren and destroy the universe. At most, Jason’s characters might show a few flying sweat beads in alarm; the final panel would matter-of-factly show the earth exploding, seen from outer space. Dealing with a horde of zombies out for their flesh? Child’s play. …more

Jones writes the kind of criticism I’d like to be able to provide, here, at GNR — connecting the contextual dots around the endeavor in an unpretentious, meaningful way, while, at the same time, doing the simpler work of a thumbs-up thumbs-down analysis, too. He is, in other words, one of the best critics on the scene, making my own efforts look weak and drab by comparison. I must unpleasantly destroy this man at some point, if man he truly be.

Over at the Daily Cross Hatch, Brian Heater complains a bit about how quickly the book can be read, at a flimsy fifty mostly-wordless pages, though his final judgment falls onto the “positive” side of the scale:

Prostitutes, shitty jobs, blood thirsty zombies—by the end, all of the pieces fit neatly in place, an achievement that has as much to do with Jason’s skill as a storyteller, as it does with the ultimate dose of earnest humanity that he is able to bestow upon his undead subjects. …more

On the other hand, Dylan Kurlansky, writing for the collaborative pop culture review site Undress Me Robot, enjoys the silence:

It is a nearly silent book (there are only seven lines of dialogue total), which in and of itself can be dangerous. However, Jason’s minimalist artwork shoulders the burden and soars. …more

And, in what is becoming an “Elsewhere on the Web” tradition, the indefatigable Tom Spurgeon has posted an insightful but brief interview with everybody’s favorite deadpan Norwegian cartoonist, which includes several full-page scans from the book.

SPURGEON: What effect did you hope to achieve through the silent movie-style panels of dialog, as opposed to, say, going with an all-silent approach? Why is that effect dropped after a certain point?

JASON: I’ve already done completely wordless strips, like “Shhh!”, so that was no longer a challenge. I wanted some dialog in the beginning, mostly to say something about the characters. After that introduction though that was no longer necessary. When the zombies show up it’s pretty much all action, one big chase sequence, that worked better with no words. …more

I said I couldn’t think of much to say about the book. I did think of one thing. I love the casual, distracted way the zombies eat human flesh — like they’re munching on popcorn while staring at a movie screen. I think you’ll agree that that’s not enough to hang a review on. But that’s all I got! Woe!

(The image in this post is a detail from The Living and the Dead, copyright (c) 2007 Jason)

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Following up on yesterday’s feature review of Popeye Vol. 1: “I Yam What I Yam”:

Unlike me, Robert Dayton of the Discorder blog likes the bigness and deluxe packaging:

Designed by Jacob Covey, the hardcover package features a cut-out word balloon title—it’s literally cut out of the hardbound cover. Fantagraphics has made excellent use of digital technology to render these strips in crisp glory; the full page colour newspaper strips are lush, soft washes. As such an integral part of comics history, these strips should always be in print. Before this book, one had to desperately seek out Fantagraphics’ previous re-printings from the early 90s, unassuming volumes that, even in soft cover, were less economical and not as advanced in design and layout. This book is a steal at approximately thirty dollars, an investment of joy. … more

Bill Sherman likes the packaging, too, and declares it “book of the year“:

There’s a lotta reading in this volume of strips. Unlike today’s newspaper funnies, Segar had the room to tell each day in five to six panel offerings, which he crammed with colorful dialog. The pacing is subsequently much more leisurely than most modern comics readers are accustomed to, but it pays off in the strip’s delightfully quirky characterization. … more

Writing for City Pages, Zak Sally admires the badassedness and chaotic amorality of it all:

[F]ar from quaint and staid, these strips are badass. People insult each other, beat on each other, love each other, and screw each other over in a way that’s a little shocking in this day and age. There’s a scene—one among many, really—of a typical bad guy throttling the living hell out of Olive (note to modern cartoonists: Do not show women being beaten), threatening to “shake her teeth out.” Meanwhile, Castor sneaks up behind him preparing to unload a gunful into his head at point-blank range. Yeowch. Still—funny stuff. …more

On the other hand, Elgin Carver at RackRaids sees moral truth and epic scope:

If the animated version of Popeye the Sailor Man is the sum total of your knowledge about this misanthropic hero, then you know him not. Epic in scope, deep in moral truths, as imaginative as any character ever invented, Popeye moves through these strips with a grace that movie stars of that era could only envy. If you have never read any of these strips, or if you are so immersed in them that you can recite dialogue from memory, you owe it to yourself and posterity to stop reading this review immediately and either go on-line or to the nearest brick and mortar bookstore and buy this book. Remember, Fantagraphics has striven to bring us other works in their complete grandeur, Little Orphan Annie comes quickly to mind, only to fall into financial trouble due to slow sales. They deserve better. Popeye deserves better. This is as good as it gets. Do your duty. …more

Finally, Tom Spurgeon conducted a long and insightful interview with the book’s designer, Jacob Covey, who, it must be said, did a great job creating a beautiful and entirely appropriate object, given the apparent goals of this project — and my complaints were not meant to disparage his high level of craftsmanship and artistry in the least. I’d just have preferred a cheap little pocket-sized paperback.

But that’s apparently just, you know, my problem.

And I’m cool with that.

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The posts where I link to other reviews of books I’ve reviewed myself have turned out to be the most popular things on this blog (I don’t know what that says about my own writing skills … hurm). Since I can’t possibly write a good, solid, in-depth review of every notable book that comes out, and since there are actually some fantastic graphic novels that I won’t be reviewing as a matter of policy (more on that in a minute), I’ve decided to expand the link-blogging to reviews of books that haven’t actually appeared on GNR. I still hope and plan to post at least one in-depth review of my own every week, too. Plus more. Um. Maybe.

Yesterday, Don McPherson posted a decidedly mixed review of K. Thor Jensen’s Red Eye, Black Eye on his Eye On Comics blog:

Red Eye, Black Eye is a surprisingly engaging read, but it’s also a surprisingly quick one. I powered through the entire volume rather quickly as I killed some time waiting for the girlfriend to arrive home for supper one evening. With a price tag of almost 20 bucks US, readers will likely expect something a little meatier, something that will occupy a little more of their time. [...] Mind you, while it may not occupy time, it does occupy the mind. … more

Last Tuesday, Brian Heater did the comparative review thing over at Daily Cross Hatch: Nick Bertozzi’s The Salon vs. Jason’s The Left Bank Gang. Bertozzi wins this round:

Nick Bertozzi’s The Salon has a lot with The Left Bank Gang, centering around a fictionalized account of a group of avant-garde painters (art patrons Gertrude and Leo Stein also play pivotal roles, the former of whom, incidentally has a minor part in Jason’s book), living in Paris in 1907. Where Jason’s book abruptly transitions into a noirish robbery caper, the action in Bertozzi’s is more akin to a supernatural murder mystery. The Salon is also more successful in framing its own plotline—unlike Jason, Bertozzi feels fairly confident in the direction that his story is going to go in, from the outset. … more

I won’t be reviewing Red Eye, Black Eye or The Salon here at GNR, because both of these graphic novels were originally serialized on a website that I happen to own, and I try to avoid the appearance of conflict of interest when that happens. At some point I will probably get over myself and break that rule. But not yet.

I also won’t be reviewing Leland Myrick’s Missouri Boy, but not for the same reason. I read it; I liked it okay, I guess; I just couldn’t think of anything interesting to say about it.

Fortunately, Elizabeth Chou, also writing for Daily Cross Hatch, comes through with a lengthy review:

Leland Myrick’s autobiographical Missouri Boy is like a shoebox of snapshots, chronologically organized and punctuated subtly by various coming-of-age moments in his life. Each story is awash in the subdued tones of nostalgia and set at a distance by dreamy, poetic narration and sparse dialogue. … more

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