League of Extraordinary Gentlemen by Alan Moore

            I was pretty skeptical picking up the first volume of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, mostly due to my dislike for the movie and initial uneasiness of reading through more of Alan Moore’s work after Watchmen.  However, I found the concept of throwing multiple fictional characters into one world interesting, and so had a look.

            To really, truly enjoy work like League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, the reader should really be well versed in a variety of literature and figureheads, from classics like Dracula to more questionable books like those featuring the character of Fu Manchu.  You’ll have characters like the Invisible Man (who is wonderfully depraved in this particular depiction), Mina Harker from Dracula, Professor Moriarty from Sherlock Holmes, and Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde running around, but then minor characters from works by Edgar Allen Poe or even Victorian erotica will pop up; unless the reader is familiar with each subject, then the references could go over their head (as they did mine, unfortunately).  Despite not getting all of the references, however, I still really enjoyed it as a crossover (Although the little, ahem, scene between Harker and Quartermain threw me off a bit.  Blech), but given most of the negative depictions of the characters I found it hard to enjoy as a whole.  Like the concept.  Don't like the execution (especially the design of some of the characters...Hyde, as featured below, frequently looks like a burned gorilla).

            Although this was a DC publication, I couldn’t help but draw comparisons between Marvel’s The Avengers and Marvel 1602 (despite the difference of two, almost three centuries); the idea behind it is basically assembling a superhuman team during a non-modern period.  While not specifically done in Marvel 1602, I can’t help but wonder if the graphic novel was at least partially inspired by League of Extraordinary Gentlemen – and if that is the case, what would have it been like if actual DC characters had been used instead of the featured literary characters.

Hyde, much like the different incarnations of the Hulk, shows how he is simultaneously the most entertaining and most terrifying character featured in League.  As Griffin finds out here.

Watchmen by Alan Moore

            My experience reading some of Alan Moore’s comics has taught me that his work can be a bit tough to swallow when first reading through it; Watchmen has thus far been the most difficult to read through (when the narration starts off describing a dog that’s been run-over, and the murder of another character on the following page, you know you’re in for a dark story).  However, it’s probably the most intricate work I’ve ever read from a story-telling perspective; this is mostly due to the writing, but Gibbons’ careful work on the paneling, and use of multi-media content to weave a highly layered graphic novel make it among the most interesting works to hit the market in decades.

            One of the reasons I enjoy Watchmen is because of the gritty sense of realism, found in both the writing and the art.  Alan Moore’s descriptive voice through characters like Rorschach set and kept the tone throughout Watchmen, and Gibbons’ level of attention to detail really made the world of Watchmen immersive on levels few other graphic novels have been able to accomplish (the layers of foreshadowing between the writing and the art are insane – for instance, a “Missing” poster for one of the writers Veidt hired appeared as early as Chapter 3, when it’s not revealed what direct relevance he or The Black Freighter have to the story until Chapter 8 and 12).  Chapter IV and IX were particular favorites of mine, due to the careful and deliberate consideration Gibbons gave to paneling (not that he didn’t to the rest of the story, but these two chapters stood out in particular).  Moore’s deconstruction of the average “super hero” story in Watchmen, using the characters to analyze and comment upon what kind of person it takes to actually take up masked vigilantism, is interesting in part due to how it affected the comics industry in later years to come (for instance, how comic-based films are approached, how new series are formulated with these ideas in mind, etc.  Kick Ass being a close/current offspring of the same stance initially taken by Watchmen).

           Another thing I find interesting about Watchmen was the fact that it uses more than just the imagery in panels to tell its story.  The Black Freighter, a comic-within-the-comic, alongside content like newspaper clippings, book excerpts, and police reports, aid in further expanding upon the universe Watchmen takes place in, and may be loosely seen as an early ancestor of current, “true” multi-media comics online (for instance, the web-comic Homestuck utilizes videos, music and various levels of interactivity to tell the story, while a small handful of other online comics are either partially animated). 

Deus-ex-Squidmonstera!  What.

Transmetropolitan by Warren Ellis

            If you took Hunter S. Thompson, and flung him into the future, you would have the basic idea behind the series Transmetropolitan.  The protagonist with highly questionable morale, Spider Jerusalem, is a futuristic gonzo journalist living in a world where commercials invade dreams and cannibalism has been turned into a fast-food franchise.  Transmetropolitan was initially a difficult read, if only because of the sheer rawness of the writing.  Warren Ellis pulled no punches when it came to fleshing out Spider’s often-vitriolic personality, nor while exploring the slightly psychotic society he attempts to navigate through.  However, the character of Spider himself is a surprisingly multi-faceted one.  While he is typically abrasive (and often abusive) to those around him, Spider does have his moments of compassion and a display of his true character underneath the angry façade.  As I read through the series, Spider began to grow on me more, and it became easier to see where his personality quips came from (and why).  Looking back, getting the chance to peel back and have a look at the different layers that make up Spider was an interesting experience in character development (a tough experience, but that made his character all the more memorable).

            What I enjoyed the most about Transmetropolitan was its treatment and exploration of a post-human society from multiple perspectives.  In a world where people can download their brains into clouds of nanomachines or change their very species, there are characters the reader can still identify with and learn through, despite said characters living in a world revolving around information overload: Spider’s assistant, Channon, worked as a dancer in a district full of humans converting their DNA into that of an alien race’s, and yet was still shocked at the idea of her boyfriend essentially dumping his brain into a fleet of nanomachines and burning his body; Spider covers a story about the plight of people who had themselves cryogenically frozen for several decades and were unceremoniously dumped into the city streets after being resuscitated (not to mention the culture shock endured from time hopping).  At one point, Spider even visits several cultural reservations outside of the city, from people who had their minds wiped and were left to live in as if from ancient Meso-American tribes, to those wishing to live in an experimental, pseudo-futuristic society so abstract I find difficulty properly describing it using only words.  

            Characters like Spider and his assistants are always finding surprises and new experiences in a world where the rest of the characters seem almost burnt out or oblivious to what surrounds them, and makes for an interesting examination and critique of how far society’s views of what is the “norm” or acceptable will stretch.  Transmetropolitan is definitely not for those with a light constitution or easily offended, but for people like me who enjoy simultaneously mocking and examining the human condition, it’s definitely a treat (albeit one frequently covered in innards, bodily fluids, and all sorts of other offensive materials).

Spider in his rare moments.

Spider as most of the world remembers him.

Stinz: Charger by Donna Barr

            When I initially picked up Stinz: Charger, I was completely in the dark about what to expect; what I wound up stumbling into was a story about an isolated community of centaur people living alongside humans, and one of their sons who inadvertently signed up for the draft.  What follows is an interesting study in fantastic racism and character development.  The protagonist, Steinheld Lowhard – a.k.a. Stinz – starts off the story as a bit of a naïve greenhorn as he ventures outside of his centaur community for the first time (and apparently the first among his people to become a part of the military); from there, it gets comically worse for a time as both he and the military adopt to one another (For instance, Stinz has a very particular diet due to having a horse’s stomach, and can’t wear pants or boots due to…well, his lower-half being a horse; the military personnel he has to deal with don’t know what to make of Stinz’s particular quandaries).  Despite initial problems, however, eight years of military service and one war later, he comes home a hero with the rank of Major (unfortunately, however, I didn’t get a chance to read that far).

            Barr creates an interesting world reminiscent of pre-WWI era Germany, and the decision to include un-translated, particular slang terms made the experience reminiscent of reading through some Japanese manga (due to some translator’s tendencies to keep particular Japanese terms intact).  Sometimes it made the flow a little difficult, especially when dealing with the somewhat difficult-to-read font (I believe it’s hand-lettered, but am not 100% sure), but it certainly added to the atmosphere.

Okay, so it's fan-art by Rufftoon, but it was too cute to pass up.  Stinz has a very distinctive character design and a surprisingly memorable personality.  I'll be having a read through the entirety of the series when I have the time.

Skim by Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki

            Reading through Skim was like reliving the awkwardness of being a teenager in high school.  Take some of the content and diary-style of Blankets and throw in the type of cynicism you’d find in Daria or Johnny the Homicidal Maniac, and you have a basic feel for the style and tone of Skim, with gorgeous ink work by Jillian Tamaki.

            The story follows a young teenage girl attending Catholic high school, and dealing with the aftermath of a recent student’s suicide.  Being an outsider and something of a Goth, Kimberly, or “Skim,” is particularly targeted by schoolmates and faculty due to her slightly acrid personality and mannerisms; sometimes this is for the better, sometimes it’s for the worse.  Skim is essentially a coming of age story that, personally, felt like a smaller part of a greater whole – while the way the story ends is relatively satisfactory, I have to wonder if it could have been elaborated on, much like Blankets was.  It felt like there wasn’t quite closure due to not seeing how Skim’s life turned out years later (alongside the supporting characters that played a large role, like Katie, Lisa, and Ms. Archer), but despite these feelings I believe as a whole it was definitely worth the read due to its authentic feel in the narration (I felt like this was something myself, or certainly a friend could have written, which brings a certain kind of nice familiarity to the comic).  

            Aside from the sense of familiarity, I really enjoyed the comic due to the artwork.  I absolutely adore Jillian Tamaki's ink-work and wound up immediately looking her up.  Why the artwork can get very complicated (there are a number of gorgeous two-page splash images), it's still clean and simplistic enough to get the point across.

            Since this week was meant to focus on female comic authors, I will mention that I feel anyone can enjoy this particular comic, be they male, female, or somewhere in between (or even other).  The issues covered in Skim, I feel are applicable to most any teenager who grew up in the suburbs, as it deals with themes like discovering and coming to terms with sexuality (Skim finds herself attracted to her older female teacher, while at least two other, minor male characters are implied to possibly be gay) as well as dealing with issues like death or suicide.  A female audience may be able to connect and identify with Skim easier due to shared gender, but for anyone who's ever faced similar issues, I think they may be able to find themselves relating to Skim more than expected. 

The narrative voice unintentionally took on Daria's (and I never even watched it growing up).  Seems to fit though.