The Future of Comics: Paranatural and A Redtail's Dream

As a art student who was largely introduced to illustration and sequential art through sites like DeviantArt as a 12 year old, of course I've read my share of webcomics. For this week, I revisited a few I was fond of back then and will probably be continuing to read! The first ongoing title (which I'm not caught up in) that I followed in middle school was Paranatural, written by Zach Morrison, who during this comic's start was just a college student doing this in his free time. Paranatural follows a boy in middle school who moves to a peculiar new town and is quickly noticed by the weird kids at his school, eventually beinf wrapped up in a ghost-hunting whirlwhind of a club. The kids have objects possessed by friendly but powerful spirits which they use to protect the status-quo and uncover secrets. Since it is an ongoing comic, Morrison's art has vastly improved in quality over the years; the first chapter or so doesn't use color, but it goes on to become more and more grandiose without ever losing the charming, snarky spirit of the story.

As a kid, I think I latched onto this comic because I related to the protagonist Max, having just moved to a new place and meeting new people. Now, what I find most enjoyable is the range in character design, facial expression, and of course, all the sick monsters. I could easily see Paranatural adapted into a cartoon show; it seems like a predecessor to shows like Gravity Falls in which young kids battle weird, funny-looking cryptids and everything leads up to a much more epic plot.

Another title which I was fond of in middle school/early high school is A Redtail's Dream, which is based off of Finnish folklore/mythology and follows a rather apathetic protagonist and his eager-to-please pet dog, who is transformed into a new animal with each chapter. Trapped in a pocket dimension by the mistake of a young fox deity, they work together to save the residents of their village and get themselves out of a tiring, magical cycle. I loved this work when I was younger, though now when I look back on it, the story isn't all that compelling. There are several chapters, but each one follows the same format and it quickly becomes monotonous. Regardless, its never stopped being beautiful to look at, and the dog character is endearing enough on his own.

The artist, Minna Sundberg, is a Finnish/Swedish woman born in Sweden who moved to Finland early in life and started A Redtail's Dream in late 2011 as a practice comic whilst in university. She planned for it to run for 150 pages, and it wound up being over 550 by the time it ended in 2013. I haven't finished this comic, but over the past week or so I've been rereading it. The artists' pride for her culture and rick folklore is evident in this comic, which is why I keep reading it, because it feels like a love letter for Finland and its fauna. Each illustration of an animal is beautifully and skillfully rendered, as are the pink, orange and blue hues of the snowy landscapes. Reading this makes me want to visit a remote Finnish village!

Comics by Women: Diary of a Dominatrix and This One Summer

This week I read two titles, or at least a large portion of each. I peeked at Diary of a Dominatrix by Molly Kiely first at the very beginning of this course out of pure curiosity and wasn't disappointed; I'm not usually drawn to explicit comics, but this one reads very matter-of-factly, and its more of a how-to guide than anything. The main character is emotionally distant from her work but a sympathetic figure in that she comically struggles with satiating her clients while upholding boundaries. I thought DoD was graciously real in its exploration of Zelda's reasons behind what she does, the mundaneness of it, and the comforting domescity of her home life.

   

The second title I started was one I've read before: This One Summer by Mariko and Jillian Tamaki. Truthfully, I haven't gotten far enough to experience any heavy plot, but the story is familiar to me with its summer camp/vacation-focused setting and themes. I've gone to summer camp in the woods almost every summer since I was 11, so I'm familiar with the strange friendships that blossom over a season and are anually revisited like nothing ever changed. The art style lends itself to the narrative with a refreshing and breezy look to it, which reminds me of Hayao Miyazaki films and Craig Thompson's Blankets. Panel-by-panel the story seems kind of mundane and unimportant, but it is ultimately ramping up to more serious themes. This One Summer easily brought me back to days of tweenhood, questioning my relationships, surroundings, and my own body, longing for the nostalgic feel of when everything felt calm and natural.

Comics as Contemporary Literature: Asterios Polyp, Eightball, and Acme Novelty Library

I read a collection of titles this week, and they ended up being some of my favorites from the whole semester. Asterios Poylp in particular was fascinating, and relatable as an artist who has difficulty communicating with a couple people in my life who aren't so "right-brained". I loved the overall style of the art, but I always paid special attention when Asterios was in a scene with his wife and they were drawn with contrasting shapes to represent their worldviews: Asterios, with angular, geometric shapes and his wife with loose, sketchy and dissipating lines. I always enjoy a nonlinear narrative, as it takes a little extra work from the reader to piece together what the creators hand you, bit-by-bit, and the Mazzuccelli executes this perfectly. The ending shocked me as I think it's supposed to, though maybe I should've recognized the foreshadowing from earlier in the story.

Eightball by Daniel Clowes intrigued me from the start, though not necessarily because of what it contains (though that is mystical in a way that reminds me of Hotel California), but because I learned it was created by the old roommate of one of my current professors, George Pratt. He always talks about his time at Pratt Institute and the sort of underground comic revolution that he and his buddies helped to lead there, but I'd never really taken the time to examine the work that came out of that particular period. Now that I've seen it in Eightball, I can see why the authorities opposed it, but the "Uncanny Valley" vibe this work has is so telling of the times, and the attitudes of the artists who strived to put ther uniqueness out there. I especially enjoyed the "Devil Doll" narrative and the quick turns the girl's worldview keeps taking, comparing her no-worries satanic lifestyle with the evangelical motivational speaker that she ultimately becomes.

 The third title I read for this week was Chris Ware's Acme Novelty Library: The Smartest Kid on Earth. Honestly, I hate to bring it up, and I know I'm not the first, but the main character of this comic, Jimmy, just looks a whole lot like Stewie Griffin. I'm not sure which one came first, but the similarities, physical and mental, are uncanny. Moving on. I thought this work was really interesting, because it played off of traditional comic strips like Peanuts and their heartwarming moral values, but turned all that on its head. Jimmy is an asshole who thinks his mother is an idiot and schemes against her throughout childhood, but in adulthood he continues to live with her while silently loathing her the entire time. He's a little too real to be comfortable, since he never really does what he wants and lives his life having little fantasies of acting out maliciously or harming himself. Acme is another title which isn't really a fun read, but it is intriguing in the way it is done, especially considering the masterful panel work. Ware's style is similar to that of an airplane safety pamphlet: simple, bold lines, flat colors, and sometimes arrows showing you where to look next. He uses lots of "windows" and zoom-ins to transition to the next scene, which comes off seamlessly and keeps your eyes moving across the pages.

Ranma

For this week I read a classic which everybody else seemed to have already read but me. And I found it pretty entertaining! I'm not usually one for reading manga like Ranma; the titles I have read were usually tied to action-based anime I had already watched and was therefore interested in the original take on the plot. This was the first time in awhile I'd delved into something completely new! Ranma quickly became appealing to me for reasons I can't quite pin down, but I know I like the whimsicality of the plot; Ranma's master turns into a panda, his childhood friend and rival becomes a pig... your everyday anime struggles. Manga and anime have always been toying with the topic of gender-flipping and harem-type plots, but this one wins points for being one of the originals. I enjoyed the testy dynamic between Ranma and Akane, and their efforts to keep other suitors away with increasingly fantsastic means whilst they shove away their feelings for each other at the same time.  I also appreciated that Akane is no stranger to martial arts herself, and is quite adept in taking down her opponents.

Ranma is playful in nature and doesn't take itself too seriously, though Takahashi knows that her characters have a chemistry which is hard to ignore and plays into that. If I can find more volumes, I can't promise that I'll be holding myself back from reading more!

The World of Comics: Daytripper: Issues #1-3

For this week, I read a handful of issues drom Daytripper, which I thought was a really fascinating exploration of what evryday moments can mean to us, beginnings and ends of stories, and how you have to take your chances in life. The main character is a man who makes a living writing about others' demises, wanting to experience life for himself, but always getting cut short. His constant yearning for something beyond what he is living sends him down a series of paths which always lead to his death, but as the reader, we get to see (perhaps another version of) Brás live another day in the next issue. As a reader, I felt compelled by the story and kept wanting to read more because I wanted to see him accomplish his goals, which could just be my natural desire for happy endings.

 

I also really enjoyed the characters, limited though they are. Jorge is ever supporting and faithful to Brás, so he becomes a useful optimist in the midst of a rather sad narrative. Brás' conflicted feelings about his parents and his disdain for the fact that he's adopted their habits is intriguing, especially when the bar owner is killed by his nephew and Brás' own "you can't choose your family" philosophy is thrown back at him as he dies. I'll probably be reading more of Daytripper, if for nothing else but my growing curiousity about the nonlinear story and characters' fates.

March: Book One by John Lewis

I loved reading this piece. I went to a very small, conservative homeschool Co-op in high school, and I always felt like they glossed over the Civil Rights movement. When it was mentioned, I never really got a grasp for what was going on behind the scenes and there were never any comparisons drawn between then and the modern BLM movement or other social justice protests. John Lewis's story told in the form of a graphic novel made history seem all the more real to me, and I was able to better appreciate what he had done for the movement. Personal notes like how he would preach to the chickens and protect them gave insight to the core of his character that flourished when he was in a leadership position. The quiet fear Lewis and his father felt when traveling south was beautifully illustrated and allowed for me, as a nonblack person, to see through their eyes.

I think this should be required reading in schools for those less inclined to read large amounts of text and are better visual-learners, as it easily engages the reader and pinpoints an important era in history. When we understand the past, we can recognize the warning signs happening in the present and equip ourselves to deal with the situation, as John Lewis did.

MAUS

     This was a heavy week. I've been aware of Maus for awhile before taking this class, but never quite got around to doing it. Sometimes, despite knowing better, I put off learning about unpleasant things and thinking about what I can do to understand, as I did with Maus until this class. That was my mistake, but I'm very glad to have finally read it. Art Spiegelman's biographical telling of his father's experiences during the Holocauast was simultaneously mundane and heartwrenching, especially as he repeatedly reflected on how this atrocity affected his relationship with his father years later. Personally, I am glad that he did not omit the personal side of his story, as it gave a glimpse into the psychological effects on Vladek and the strain put on his family.

     I could say that I enjoyed Maus, but that wouldn't be entirely true. It is undoubtedly a prolific and deeply important work, but it is not a fun read. However, I did appreciate elements such as the representation of the Nazis as cats, the Poles as pigs, the Jews as mice, and so on. While the art style is simple, it is not unskilled and it perfectly mirrored the energy of the stories.